#But after the first round of the game we play (blood on the clock tower)

[5-stardustbunny]

Taking a break from Housamo to throw out a LiveAHero fic!

This fic is an alternate take on the ending of Chapter One so spoilers ahead. And Violence, so fair warning for that.

Basically I asked myself hwo things might have played out if MC had memories of more than just the encounter in the prolgue

This entire workshop you’d been feeling on edge.

At first you’d thought it had been because you were anxious for Akashi’s baseball game and your own performance working as an operator in an “official” capacity. Then when day two rolled around, you’d almost convinced yourself the feeling stemmed from your concern over Akashi’s strange behavior. Even without your memories, he was an important person in your life. It made sense that you would be rattled by his sudden inability to transform into a hero.

But even once the day was won, by Akashi’s hand no less, the feeling refused to disperse.

An unpleasant sense of déjà vu tingles at the back of your neck. Something about this was wrong. Very wrong. Worried, you about-face and head towards the kids. You were probably just being paranoid…

Right?

“—Stop playing things up for the fans and help me round up the kids!”

Huckles words are like a lightning bolt to your brain. Your body is moving before you register what’s happening.

You remember now.

That Kaibutsu isn’t dead yet. Normally you would even be able to budge a towering figure like Ryekie but you have the element of surprise, not to mention the full moment of your sprint behind you. You can see his confused eyes on the Kaibutsu, not quite yet comprehending what it is he’s seeing, but instinctually moving to shield the nearby kids.

You collide with his side, throwing the hero of balance and sending him tumbling to the ground. Your momentum carries you a step into the space he just occupied. Unfortunate for you, given that it’s in this moment that the Kaibutsu’s thorn tears through said space.

“Ghhhk!”

A pained gasp escapes from behind your gritted teeth as the thorn pierces your body, punching a hole clear through your abdomen. From the corner of your eye, you see Ryekie staring at you in shock, frozen in the process of standing up. Your eyes meet and you see horror begin to creep into his expression. You hear Akashi screaming your name in terror and the sound of a blade slicing through the air. Toshuu’s sword strike kills the monster for good and it fades away.

Your knees have long since given out, so when the thorn disappears to nothingness, you find yourself crumpling into the grass. Your vision is swimming, but you can faintly make out several faces hovering above you. Akashi is crying as he holds your hand desperately, and through the immense pain you feel a flare of guilt for worrying him like this. Huckle and Ryekie are both there as well, you think their putting pressure on your wound but it’s hard to distinguish any one sensation in your agony. Both their mouths are moving, and while Ryekie is turned towards someone or something over shoulder, you think Huckle’s is speaking to you. He sounds so far away though; you can’t make out his words over the fog filling your brain. You want to ask if everybody else is okay, are the kids safe? But your vision is darkening, and you can do little more than succumb to blissful mercy of unconsciousness.

--

Huckle glared tiredly at the clock on the wall of the waiting room. Its luminescent numbers felt mocking as time continued to tick on with no word on your condition in the last several hours. After being brought to the hospital via ambulance, you’d been immediately rushed into emergency surgery, leaving the members of Parallel Fight little else to do but sit themselves down in the waiting room and wait.

Toshuu, Shouen, Kyoichi had stayed behind to take care of the children and the civilians that had gotten caught up in the incident in the park, insisting the others call as soon as they had news on your condition. After the first hour of waiting, Mokdai offered to go back to the office and get started on all the paperwork the days incident had generated so that everyone would have one less thing to worry about. Huckle argued that he didn’t need to do their share of the work too, but the camera man just gave a pained smile and said that he’d rather do something productive right now, and that this was the best way to support you and Akashi at the moment. There was no arguing against that, so Huckle sent him off with a promise to call when they had news and instructions to make sure to eat something when he could.

When the group had first arrived, Akashi had stayed busy. He knew you the best of any of them so he’d been the go to for any information the doctors couldn’t find in your records, not to mention him trying to get a hold of your family. After the first hour or so though, there was nothing left for him to do, and the redhead slumped into the chair next to Huckle, staring down at his hands with a lost expression.

Ryekie was pacing a hole into the floor not far away. The tiger kept rubbing his arms, absent mindedly trying to warm up, the jacket he’d been wearing earlier ruined when he used it to try and stem your bleeding.

Huckle shook his head sharply to dislodge the image of you bleeding out on the grass from his mind, to little success. He could still feel the blood oozing between his fingers when he’d watched you slip out of consciousness.

Huckle’s brooding is cut short when a doctor walks over and asks if they’re the ones that brought you in.

“Yes!” Akashi nearly leaps out of his seat, tone bordering on pure desperation “Please-I-How are they?!”

It’s painful to see such a kind young man in such obvious pain, but there’s nothing to be done. It had been clear from day one that you and Akashi were quite close, of course this would be hitting him hardest of all. Ryekie walked up behind the other young man and put his hand in his shoulder in silent support. Huckle stood as well, giving the doctor his full attention, trying to prepare himself for the worst.

“I wont sugar coat it,” the Doctor began, not unkindly “the damage to their organs was quite severe. However, your actions on site kept them stable enough to get them to us and into surgery. The operation was a success. It may take some time and it won’t be easy, but we anticipate they will make a full recovery.”

Akashi’s shoulders sagged like a great weight had been lifted from them, and he sank into a crouching position, covering his face with his hands. Ryekie made a noise of concern and knelt next to the red head, hands poised to steady him if need be.

“Sorry” Akashi rasped, waving his senpai off “I’m fine, I just need a minute.”

“That operator of yours is a fighter” the Doctor assured them “Their room is still being prepared, but once they’re settled, I’ll have a nurse bring you to them. We don’t expect them to wake up until tomorrow at the earliest, but you’re free to sit with them if you like.”

“Thank you.” Huckle said sincerely, shaking the doctor’s hand firmly. The man nodded before disappearing down the hall to continue his work. Huckle dropped back into his chair, scrubbing a hand down his face. You were going to be alright….It felt like he could finally breathe properly again. From the corner of his eye, he watched Ryekie help a still trembling Akashi back into his chair. Huckle offered his newest hero a few pats on the shoulder as the trio settled in for another round of waiting.

--

You looked so small, lying on the hospital bed.

You had always looked small to Ryekie, which to be fair, most people did. He could vividly remember your first meeting, sweeping you up into his arms to rescue you from danger. You’d felt quite light then, and he could still recall how you didn’t even come up to his shoulder when you’d hugged him afterwards. It had sparked a warm feeling at the time, he’d been tempted to pick you up and spin you around.

Now though, he could only feel distressed by your smallness, how frail you appeared laid out on your hospital bed.

Akashi was leaning against the bed from his chair, fast asleep. When Parallel Fight had first been show into your room, the red head had made a bee line to your side, pulling up a chair and taking your hand. He’d not moved since, and even in sleep he still clung to your hand as he had for the last few hours.

It was long past visiting hours and Ryekie absentmindedly wondered what kind of strings the boss had pulled to get them all permission to stay seemingly indefinitely. Speaking of Huckle, the other man too was asleep in a chair pulled up opposite Akashi. As your boss, Huckle had insisted he couldn’t leave until you woke up at least the first time.

Of the three of them, Ryekie probably had the least reason to be here still at 2 am, but he couldn’t leave. After all it was his fault you had been hurt in the first place. The horrible scene kept playing in front of the hero’s eyes every time he closed his eyes. Some how you’d noticed the Kaibutsu was still alive before anyone else. And with that information, you’d chosen to save him even at the cost of your own safety. He could almost feel the phantom sensation of you ramming into your side.

As a hero Ryekie was no stranger to the idea of self sacrifice. It was his duty protect everyone, even if it cost him his life to do so. He never thought twice about the path he walked. If it meant keeping everyone safe, Ryekie would gladly place his life on the line. And yet…

As he stared down at you, he wondered how you would have felt if your situations were reversed. Would you have cried? Cursed him for allowing himself to get hurt saving someone else? Would you feel as powerless as he did now?

He didn’t know.

So Ryekie swore he would not leave your side until he could apologize for failing to protect you and ask you those questions for himself, it was quite literally the least he could do.

With that in mind, he reached out and took your small hand in his.

--

Akashi didn’t think it was possible to have the worst day of his life two days in a row, but he supposed this was just the universe’s way of telling him to go fuck himself.

And here he’d though having his dream of going pro be shattered had been bad. Akashi had watched as his best friend got eviscerated right in front of him, and he hadn’t been able to do anything. Logically he knew there wasn’t anything he could have done, he was too far away, he hadn’t even been in hero form at the time. But still a sinking sense of failure sits heavy in his chest, that he’d allow someone so precious to him to end up so grievously injured.

That, in addition to the fact that he hadn’t been able to get a hold of any of your family members insured he stayed rooted in the chair next to your bed. Huckle and Ryekie had tried to get him to leave for a few minutes, at least to eat something or wash his face, but he couldn’t do it. The idea of leaving your side for even a second was unbearable. It must have gotten across to his seniors because after the first few tries, they dropped the issue.

The pair had gone down to the cafeteria to grab some food and call everyone else with an update, so at the moment it was just you and Akashi in the room. The redhead rubbed circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, while his other hand reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair out of your face, not thinking much of the action. But when your expression twitched slightly, he froze, breath catching in his throat.

Akashi watched with bated breath as your expression scrunched further, eyes finally cracking open and taking in your surroundings. He thought his heart stopped when they landed on him.

“‘kashi?” You slurred slightly, head titling slightly towards him. Your hand gave a weak squeeze and the redhead just about sobbed “’s wrong?”

Even addled by the drugs pumping through you, you still him a look of such concern that Akashi broke down. Clutching your hand in both of his, he brought it up too his forehead, crying uncontrollably.

“N-never again!” He gasped out, cling to your hand desperately “You c-can’t do s-something like that e-ever again!” Your brow only furrowed, but still you tried to sooth him “I-I’m not sure what I did but ‘m sorry.” You squeezed his hand as hard as you could in your weakened state “s’okay I’m here, I’m here.”

At that moment, Akashi wanted nothing more that to wrap his arms around you and never let go, but he settled for holding your hand as he attempted to calm down enough to tell you how happy was to see you awake.

#LiveAHero #Akashi #Ryekie #Huckle #violence #dust writings

[starssayhello]

How the Moon Fell in Love With a Star - Last Part

Fandom: Harry Potter, Marauders Era

Pairing: Sirius Black x OC (Remus’s twin sister)

Word Count: 2,200

Summary: Lilliana Lupin is just starting her seventh year with her twin brother and best friends. The only catch: she’s in love with one of them. When James hatches a plan to make both Lily Evans and Sirius Black notice James and Lillie, she is hesitant. Until it works.

Series Masterlist   Masterlist

A/N: It’s here!!! Sorry for such a long wait!! I’m so excited to announce that this series is complete after this part. Sorry for those of you who have been waiting since day one to read this part. I hope it’s worth it!

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7

When I had finally calmed myself enough to get off the floor and smooth out my dress, the clock on the wall read midnight. The ball would be over now, but plenty of the older students would be hiding out in the Astronomy Tower, a tradition for those who wouldn’t be going back to their date’s dormitory. In the hallway, I paused long enough to check on the map that Sirius was indeed in his dorm. The rest of the boys were still in the common room, apparently too full of adrenaline to think of sleep. 

Climbing in through the portrait hole with shoes in hand was a struggle. The length of my dress got in the way, and I was exhausted. As soon as I entered the common room, the boys and Lily were all over me.

“What happened?”

“Where’s Sirius?”

“Did you tell him? Is it time to thank me?”

The questions come immediately and in full-force. I cover my ears in an attempt to block out my friends’ voices. “Nothing happened!” My shout silenced everyone, leaving me in the unfortunate position of having to answer.

“So…?” Remus raised his eyebrows in question. “What happened?”

“Why don’t you ask James? He’s the one who screwed everything up.” I spun around to see Sirius leaning against the wall at the bottom of the stairs. Sirius didn’t even look at me, his glare stuck to James like glue. “Well?”

James gaped at his best friend, looking a bit like a fish. Finally he said, “What do you want me to say Sirius? That I’m sorry? Because I am. I’m bloody sorry. Call me an idiot, but Lillie and I thought we were doing the right thing.”

“Oh, the right thing? So you just fake every relationship you’ve ever been in? Is that how it works now? My best mate can’t be trusted to be honest?” Sirius demanded.

“You know it’s not like that! Lillie and I were just faking it to-” Sirius interrupted James by throwing his fist out, to which James barely missed.

“I never said anything about you two going out no matter how much it crushed me and you’re telling me it was all fake?” Sirius took another swing at James. James jumped out of the way but not quickly enough. Sirius’ fingers knocked into the side of his glasses, sending the lenses flying toward the wall. Lily gasped. “James, are you alright?”

The dark haired boy nodded, pushing his bangs off his forehead.

He beckoned to Sirius. “You want to do that again? I know what we did, and I don’t care if you knock me out because of it.”

“Oh, I want to do more than knock you out,” Sirius growled, “Right now, I want to murder you.” Next moment, Sirius had launched himself at James, and it took both Remus, Peter, and Alice to pull him back, while Frank held James.

“Would everybody just calm down?” Lily yelled. “You lot are acting like five year olds fighting over a stupid toy. Would you look at yourselves? You both are seventeen bloody years old. You,” Lily pointed to James, “are a stupid git if you think tricking your best friend was a good idea. And you,” she rounded on Sirius, “shouldn’t have waited so bloody long to admit your feelings for the girl you’ve been in love with since first year. And you, Lilliana,” she paused, shaking her head. “I thought you were better than this.” With that, she spun on her heel and waltzed up the stairs to the girls’ dorms, while Alice trailed apologetically behind.

I turned back to the boys. “Sirius, I-”

“Save it, Lillie. I don’t want to hear it.” He stalked up the stairs, ripping his tie off in the process. The rest of us standing in the common room flinched at the loud slam of the door.

“Look, Lillie, I didn’t mean for this to get so out of hand-” James started.

I ran up the stairs before he could get another word out.

----

Loneliness is a funny thing. One moment you think you can handle being by yourself, the next it feels like you're standing before a chasm, waiting to fall in, never to come out again. I've been standing over that chasm for weeks. James and Lily finally got together. He kissed her at the end of the ball, when they were alone walking back to the common room. At least one part of his plan worked out the way it was supposed to. I, on the other hand, had to deal with the sadness by myself. I promised not to bring James down at all by reminding him that I never got my happy ending. I suppose neither of us were truly happy anyway. We’d both lost our best friend.

Sirius hadn't talked to either of us in weeks.

At breakfast one morning, James walked into the Great Hall, hand in hand with Lily, causing a brief silence to fall over the other House tables. Of course, only the Gryffindors actually believe that they were truly together. Apparently the idea was so far-fetched that Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff never thought it could be a possibility. My eyes dropped back to the book in front of me, propped against the orange juice pitcher.

Remus nudged my shoulder a moment later. I shot him a glare, but he merely nodded to the doors of the Great Hall.

Sirius strode in next to Frank Longbottom. My eyes met his before he tore them away, focusing instead on his brother who sat amongst the “elite” pure-bloods. Frank took the place next to Alice, on the other side of Remus. Instead of taking the blindingly empty space next to James, Sirius glided right past, continuing down the row to sit with some of the seventh year boys at the end by the teachers’ table. I sighed, returning again to the story world of my book.

In Potions when Slughorn told us to pair up, Lily turned to me with a frown. “Do you mind if I…?”

I waved dismissively. “No, go ahead.” Lily grinned, jumping up, and took the seat next to James.

I glanced around to see who was still partner-less and my eyes fell on Sirius. Of course. The last person without a partner.

Begrudgingly, I stalked over to the table and claimed the seat next to him.

Sirius started talking at the same time as me.

“Look, I don't-” 

“You don't have to-” We laughed tensely.

“Um, if you want to get the ingredients, I'll start reading the directions…” Sirius gestured vaguely to his textbook.

I nodded. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

I swear the tension between us could be cut with an unsharpened knife. For the first time in my life, I didn't know how to talk to Sirius, and he seemed lost for words with me too. We made the potion with little talking, only the occasional “Pass me the…” or “How much do I add of…?” When Professor Slughorn told us to start packing up, Sirius shoved his books in his bag and moved to stand by the door. He was gone from the room the moment class was dismissed.

----

The overwhelming noise of the crowd drowned out any and all words Lily spoke to me. She waved enthusiastically as James flew past and blew a kiss. I rolled my eyes at him and snuck a glance at Sirius, who did something completely unexpected, considering we hadn’t been on speaking terms in a month. He winked at me. The first acknowledgement that I’d gotten in weeks. I was so shocked I nearly tripped over Lily, who had claimed a seat amongst other seventh-year Gryffindors. “Whoa, there Ana. Got two left feet, I see,” Lily teased. I rolled my eyes and slid into the seat between Peter and Remus.

Remus nudged my shoulder, asking quietly, “How are you doing?”

I snorted. “What do you mean? With my N.E.W.T. studying or my social life?”

“You know what I mean, Lils.” He waited for me to respond, but I simply ignored him, staring out at the Quidditch pitch. “Lillie, you can’t avoid this forever. If you do, it’s just going to haunt you.”

“Whatever, Remus,” I shrugged off his comment.

“Lillie, you know I love you, but sometimes you can be the dumbest girl I know.” I rolled my eyes at my brother. “Just talk to him,” he said before turning his attention back to the pitch.

The game was in full swing by the time I made up my mind. I was going to get my best friend back, no matter what it took.

In my growing anticipation, I didn’t realize how much fidgeting I was doing until Remus dropped a hand on my knee, forcing it to stop shaking. “Sorry,” I muttered, too caught up in the game to reply with anything else. He simply smiled, shook his head, and turned back to the game.

Gryffindor was down by nearly a hundred points, and it seemed impossible that the team could pull through. The only way we would win this match, and be one step closer to the House Cup, was if Sirius caught the Snitch before the Ravenclaw Seeker. If he didn’t… well, it wouldn’t be so good for Gryffindor.

The seconds dragged on, feeling like years, when suddenly, Sirius flew into a steep dive from above the main space of play. Ravenclaw’s Seeker apparently had the same idea when he quickly followed Sirius. The blur of red and blue as the two opposing Seekers dove for the ground had the full attention of the stands. At the last second, the two pulled out of their dive and began racing along the length of the field. I held my breath and rose to my feet along with the rest of the Gryffindor crowd as we waited in agonizing anticipation. In the skies, James and the other Chasers continued battling for the Quaffle, but all eyes were on the Seekers, racing neck-in-neck across the field. Sirius’s arm shot forward suddenly, and he veered sharply to the left. I caught the briefest glimpse of gold shining through his fingers as the whistle blew, and the cheer of “Gryffindor wins!” erupted from the speakers.

The crowd was so hectic that the team was already on the ground and shaking hands with Ravenclaw by the time the seventh-year Gryffindors stormed the field. Though I was caught at the back of the crowd, it didn’t take long to shove my way through. I was determined, and nothing was going to stand in my way.

Marching up to the head of black curls, I grabbed his arm and spun him around to face me.

“Lillie, what are you-” Sirius was cut off by me grabbing the front of his Quidditch robes and slamming my lips to his. For the first few seconds, he seemed to be in shock, until his hands slid up to my face, and he pulled me impossibly closer. It was like butterflies and fireworks all at once. I swear, in that moment, we were the only people in the world.

----

From that point on, things were better than ever. Sirius and I were back to normal. Well...almost normal. If you count snogging your best friend on the daily as normal. James finally got his thank you from me for, as I quote, “setting you two up in the first place. Really Moonbeam, I don’t think you would have done it if not for me.” Let’s just say, he didn’t get much appreciation after that.

Remus finally got to play the protective brother he’d been wanting to be for ages. I knew deep down he was extremely happy for me, but he also got a sick sense of pleasure from threatening to murder Sirius in his sleep if he ever decided to break my heart. Though that was highly doubtful.

Lily, Alice, and even Marlene were over the moon that Sirius and I had finally admitted everything and gotten together. After that game, Sirius and I fled the pitch, seeking the quiet of a secret hiding spot only a few knew of: the Shrieking Shack. Hours upon hours spent in the shack smoothed every bump in the road from the past while Sirius and I decided what exactly we were going to be from that point on. Even weeks later, I still was not used to hearing him call me his girlfriend, nor I call him my boyfriend. It was such a long time coming that I guess I never thought about what would happen once we got to this point, but boy was I glad we were at this point.

The end of seventh year approached quicker than anticipated, and before I knew it, I was sitting next to Remus in the Great Hall hearing Dumbledore give our commencement speech. When Dumbledore mentioned the friends we would be leaving with, Sirius turned back and winked at me from the front row. I couldn’t help but smile back.

It had been a wild ride at Hogwarts, but at least I knew one thing. No matter what, I had my best friends by my side. And who knew what adventures that would bring. I couldn’t wait.

End.

A/N: Oh my goodness you guys, it’s been such a ride. I got very emotional writing this last part because this was the first story I ever published. It’s now been nearly two years since I published the first part of this story and I can’t believe it’s gotten the response it has. I love each and every one of you who have stuck with this series and waited til the end. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing. Thanks, love y’all <3

Tags:  @paradoxical--intentions @knowledgeisthebomb @watson-38 @athenamalfoywinchester @bestillmystuckyheart @annino112 @siriuspadfoot14 @xsuperwholockaddictx-blog @ghostgirl1609​ @whysoseriouspadfoot​ @bubblesbts​ @sly-vixen-up2nogood @sleepingalaska @nicolebeaudry @saynotodrugsyestotacos @mysweetcookie99 @mrstomlifford @shootingstarsaretearsofheaven @avengersassemblee @aestheticallymarauderss @love-dria @superwholockgeek18 @lonelyheart-jadedsoul @barikawho @hahawannadiehaha @panicatthelonelymountain @cutie-bug @ssolaced @captivatingcosette @mayakblack @j-brielmalfoy @ideas-nocturnas @elsie2018​  @fanfic-addict-98​  @at-least-theres-fanfiction​ @unicorn-sparkles123 @nathaliabakes​ @lost-in-t-h-e-abyss​ @mauve-sparkle​ @prongsyy​ @pepelachanel​

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x oc #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black series #sirius black imagine #remus lupin x sister #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #marauders era #marauders era series #marauders era fanfiction #marauders x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders imagine #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #james potter x lily evans #james x lily #jily #jily fanfiction #how the moon fell in love with a star

[lucarioisinthevoid]

hello good sir (sir being a gender neutral term), i'd like to send some p r o m p t s. so i haven't played ucn in a LONG time, but some ideas off the top of my head: toy freddy (would be funny), funtime foxy (cause they're a bitch), n. fredbear and maybe nightmare (cause they're twisted versions of his b e l o v e d fredbear), and maybe foxy+bonnie (cause it's a bitch). just some ideas! also, being a man of culture, i'd like to request some tortu- jk, jk (i'd say sth funny but character limit).

(I will fight you for this ask. I will come to you home and pick you up and fling your body into space and into literal Among Us. My brain was going a mile a minute trying to gather enough coins to get rid of Funtime Foxy, and keep on top of EVERYTHING ELSE- And yet I was still surprised when I finally got jumpscared. Welp, I couldn’t have predicted it, so it’s kinda fun being able to write this now. Also yes, warning for mild torment! I’m just not good at writing it- Oh, also, here’s the AO3 link to the thing: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687695/chapters/67764007 You can read the whole thing there and I update it there as I do here. You can request over there to, but that’s beside the point)

Be on top of his games. Watch his shows. Check in, but only at the right times. Henry grinded his teeth. It was almost like he had a son again- dear god, this truly was hell, wasn’t it? For a moment he had thought the Helpy robot was joking as he elaborated on what the damn plastic piece of shit’s mechanic was- No. No cursing. He shook his head. That was being petty for no reason. He had a mechanic- and it was a stupid one- but that was better than nothing. It was better than being told “you will die” without being able to do anything about it. For a moment he frowned, a though manifesting itself in the back of his mind. … if he would know there was no way to escape the pain, he would grow numb to it. So whoever or whatever set this up seemed to have a keen interest in- The clock chimed, it was time to play. Instantly he pulled up the monitor. He had been gifted the leeway of being allowed to eradicate one of them- and dear god, he would not say no, not if it was the only chance to give a little bit of payback. He checked on Toy Freddy- a good contender to be murdered- and clicked the door of the- vacuum cleaner- dear god, this would make his brain rot- then he moved on to more sensible things, like checking on Foxy, who was thankfully out, then moving over to gathering coins. Laughter from the door. “Mister Miller… look at you. You seem stressed.” “Why yes, I am quite tense.” Without looking up he closed the doors, opening them up right away. “I have to admit to my distain of the character selection that currently is coming after me. They make no sense, you see?” Another, similarly as deep voice sounded, albeit with a brighter tint to it- “… oh, don’t be ashamed of that, Mr. Miller. They have more distain for you than you do for them.” Once more, doors closed, doors open. He didn’t even need to look. “I can assume that, yes, but that is hardly my issue, is it now? My issue is their reality bending and tedious habits.” For this round he would be stuck on the cameras, wouldn’t he? Once more he flipped over to Foxy, gathering coins and being quietly thankful for the fact that he and Bonnie had not switched places yet. He had to get this done in the first time-warped hour and if he didn’t- he wasn’t sure when exactly the clock would move over and he didn’t want to find out. The nightmare duo was chuckling, so he shortly put the monitor down to look inside of Nightmare Fredbear’s red eyes. “… what are you supposed to be?” “You have never truly understood your own creation, did you…? If it lives… it changes…” “The only nightmare I ever created were the suits and-“ He turned to the other side, spotting the more pinkish eyes shining from that frame. “… you. Are you not supposed to be me?” “I think you can answer that yourself.” Shaking his head, Henry dismissed both of them, closing the doors and opening the camera feed, checking once more on Foxy, helping out Toy Freddy and finally snatching up the last few coins he needed- instantly he moved over to the price corner, ordering one of the silver coins- His eyes darted to the clock- Oh god, only a few more moments before the timer skipped- The pink hellfox was peering out of its cove, grinning widely- a grin that instantly was replaced by an agonized and hateful scream as Henry used the coin, allowing himself for a moment to watch the machine literally being disintegrated into clear silver dust. From the side, Nightmare Fredbear chuckled. “… how cruel.” “This is a dog-eat-dog world. You should not try to inflict onto others what you are not willing to go through yourself.” “Oh? Are you ready for what is coming for you then?” Abruptly Henry started laughing, as he once more checked on Foxy, then moved to Toy Freddy. “What? What is coming for me? Being brought back to Fredbear’s, except this time I am immortal, have inhuman strength and can start honing my ability to move whatever I desire with my mind? What a terrible fate you are threatening me with, Nightmare! I am appalled! How dare you gift me with everything I have ever wanted!” One last time he switched back to Foxy, then deactivated the monitors, assuming it was best to be on Foxy’s camera right away, so when he pulled the camera back up- His eyes fell on the little figure of Bonnie that was now on the table. For the love of god, how could he have been that stupid!? Looking up at Nightmare Fredbear’s red eyes, he saw a bit of bemusement in it- that and a deep, underlaying level of pure disgust. “… will you ever learn, Mr. Miller? Will you ever realize that the resistance you have been met with was not from nowhere? Will you learn that you cursed them?” “NONSENSE.” Henry HISSED. “I considered you smart. I was wrong. The only reason the children were struggling against me because I could not yet accommodate them well enough- propaganda against me and my mission was spread. William seemed to have been just fine with his joke of a family that he had gotten himself in a flight of passing fancy. What made him different?!” There was only silence from the outside, as Henry glanced once more at the figure. Still Bonnie and it wouldn’t change. Muttering more so to himself than to the Fredbear, he stressed his point. “Nature has turned on me for taking what I desired, much like the ocean, the skies and the land has turned against humanity at every opportunity. Even in the different religious texts, humanity and to steal and take with violence what it needed to become what it was meant to be. One god banished the species in fear of them becoming immortal, much like the being itself- another wanted to deny us fire as petty retaliation, because fire brings creation- and it had to be taken back by theft.” Not quite, but close enough. He didn’t want to recount the stories. “… if you want to grow, you have to feed, and if you feed, you destroy. And so, destruction brings new creation. We feed off the old gods and create new rules. Nature does not like to be controlled and abused- all it wishes is to slowly burn itself out. Until nothing is left. But we humans preserve- we are a species who is so defenseless, yet have made it this far, by preserving knowledge, by learning early, early and as much as we can- eventually however it will come to a standstill. You can only learn so much with the time given. Until said time become infinite. Some ills of humanity can only be cured by allowing humans to permanently remain and learn. For that we need immortality.” There still was only silence and he sighed- He had wasted too much time. The Bonnie figure was still there, but he might as well get it over with, he wouldn’t get around him disabling the cameras. Quickly he closed the door to the left side where he knew Nightmare Fredbear was waiting, pulling up the cameras, to Bonnie’s aggressive scream- But before he could really boot the thing up, a giant black paw came from above grabbing the little tablet, cracking it. The Amalgamation was towering over him, black fur and metal broken up by the silver shine of its teeth. Baffled for a few seconds, Henry looked at him. “I… did not hear you.” “The others are not your problem anymore, are they now?” With its vile grin it picked Henry up by the head, an incredibly painful experience, playfully throwing him against the wall with full force- a crack was sounded and as Henry tried to stumble back on his feet, he quickly realized he couldn’t- something was damaged, so badly that the pain was too much- His head was still sharp though, the white pain barely being fended off by his mind trying to figure out how this creature could be HERE- It had been HIM, it was HIM, what would make him want to- Blood was dripping from out his mouth, tasting disgustingly mechanical- “… you… you are supposed to be ME-“ Smiling the monstrous bear-esque beast picked him up, causing another wave of incoherent, glowing pain to wash through Henry, his whole chest being just enough to fill the Amalgamation’s hand. “I was you. We have seen all your thoughts, all your ideas, we have shaped, and we have remembered. You are me. And we crave violence, Mister Miller. Your words were pretty to hear, but we do not believe them. We know what we are- a monster who thinks of itself too highly, an animal unable to resist the siren call of violence and blood. Our creation has not made us better than all the monsters we feared becoming. There is only one difference between us… … I am not ashamed of my needs anymore.” With that he started pulling on Henry’s arm, pulling as the delirious man convulsed under him- Ready to take a bite out of it. “But I do love creation too… and I cannot wait to see what we will turn you into. The brain is moldable, Henry. It does fantastical things under pain and pressure…” His other claw was digging into the human’s head. The other was pulling the now separated arm to his maw, biting down with a sickening, wet crunch. Happily he sighed. The few seconds of Henry’s awareness that were left only wondered quietly if his parts being consumed would mean he would never get them back- The Amalgamation seemed to hear the thought, grinning at him with its now stained teeth. “I will vomit you back… to relieve your horror…” … with that Henry faded.

#henry miller #Henry in hell #oh also if you wonder that last thing is the real quote #not relive it IS relieve and it's so weird

[sariasprincy-writes]

Hollow Point 34

One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen // Twenty // Twenty-One // Twenty-Two // Twenty-Three // Twenty-Four // Twenty-Five // Twenty-Six // Twenty-Seven // Twenty-Eight // Twenty-Nine // Thirty // Thirty-One // Thirty-Two // Thirty-Three // Thirty-Four (here) 

Chapter Thirty-Four The Last Hour

The soft tinkle of a piano filled the room. It reached every corner, softening the harsh silence and giving life to the otherwise still night. The clock on the wall displayed the early morning hour, but Sakura didn’t pay it any mind as her fingers tumbled across the keys.

Kakashi hadn’t answered any of her phone calls since their argument the previous night. It seemed sleep was no longer her friend either for it seemed disinterested in keeping her company as well. Instead, Sakura occupied herself with the familiar instrument, the music in her head distracting from the thoughts that chased sleep away to begin with.

The notes under her fingers seemed to stretch on for hours. She lost track of time, nearly lost track of the day, and perhaps would have sat there for years had the floorboards behind her not creaked.

Itachi closed the distance between them and her eyes fluttered shut when he swept her hair away from her neck and pressed his face to the place where her shoulder met her neck. He inhaled softly before placing the barest of kisses to her skin. Her breath faltered but her fingers did not.

“Come to bed,” he murmured against her skin.

“I can’t sleep.”

She felt him chuckle faintly. “Perhaps because you are not in bed.”

A smile crossed her face, but her fingers never lost their tempo even as he pressed more lingering kisses to the column of her neck.

Eventually Itachi pulled away with a sigh. Without a word, he lowered himself onto the bench beside her until his leg was pressed against hers, his hand resting against her lower back. “Where are you?”

“I’m right here.”

“I meant in your head.” When Sakura pursed her lips, Itachi reached up to brush her hair over her shoulder. “Is this about Hashirama? I heard he was assassinated.”

She kept her expression neutral as she glanced at him, briefly taking in the sweats and white wife beater he had slipped on. She liked the way it emphasized the muscles of his chest.

“No,” she said. “I may have known Hashirama most of my life but he was nothing but a mobster. In the end, he got what he deserved.”

If her cool tone surprised Itachi, he said nothing. He simply watched her fingers skim across the keys as she tried not to recall the moment she had pulled the trigger and embedded a round of metal between Hashirama’s eyes. The taint of smoke and blood lingered in her nose.

“Then where are you?” Itachi murmured again. 

Sakura blinked. She played another few measures of her song before finally saying, “Newark.”

“Newark?” he repeated curiously. “What’s there?”

“Madara. He’s regained traction.”

Itachi’s brows furrowed. “But Kisame said the shipment was going to Brooklyn.”

Sakura shrugged one shoulder. “Perhaps it was, but word somehow got out that I took control of that warehouse so they’ve had to relocate.”

“You don’t think…” Itachi began slowly. “Kisame wouldn’t have said anything.”

The flat look she shot him said she believed otherwise. “Kisame is loyal to you, Itachi, and you alone.” Then her expression cleared. “It doesn’t matter now anyway. It is what it is.”

Itachi still didn’t look happy about her distrust of Kisame, but he said nothing as he thought, his fingers unconsciously caressing the small of her back through the thin material of her shirt.  Or rather it was his shirt, wasn’t it. She had pulled it on after showering, leaving the rest of her clothes forgotten somewhere on the bedroom floor.

“Are you able to intercept Madara?” Itachi asked.

She opened her mouth only to close it once more. She didn’t look at him. Instead, she watched her fingers dance lightly over the keys, the notes filling the silence.

Her silence confused him. “What is it?” he asked.

But Itachi was smart. And it quickly dawned on him.

“You need the CIA to hit the port in Newark.”

“I don’t have the manpower to do it myself,” Sakura said, her tone coming out a little sharper than she intended.

It was a fact she had known for a while now, but it still left her feeling vulnerable. This was the one variable in her plan. She had everything else planned to a ‘T’. The risks, the consequences, the possible outcomes. All except this. She needed the CIA’s help. And that all weighed on Itachi’s next decision.

Sakura glanced at him, but he was no longer looking at her. His eyes were downcast, staring without seeing at her hands, though they had paused upon the black and white keys. His own fingers had fallen still against her back. She could see the thoughts running through his head, could see him weighing the options. He had made the offer before, but she knew it was still difficult for him. She would need to sway him a little more.

“Kisame said the shipment will be here tomorrow night,” Sakura murmured, carefully breaking the silence. “It’s Akatsuki’s largest one ever. Madara will be there. He has to be. It might be the CIA’s last opportunity to capture him before he takes control of the Underground.”

The lie burned her tongue as it came out of her mouth. Like acid, making her feel hot and cold as her heart shriveled up in her chest until it was nothing but dirty ash. She was fully aware how she was a terrible person, but this was on a new level entirely. Pushing Itachi to take down Akatsuki, knowing full well that Madara was long out of the country.

She sat with bated breath until Itachi finally nodded, “I’ll do what I can.” Then his eyes found hers, searching. “But that means you can’t be there.”

“I know,” Sakura said, releasing her tight breath. She relaxed further under his touch as his fingers resumed their gentle caress. “I’m going to try and draw Izuna to Brooklyn, in the meantime. It’ll be easier to bring Akatsuki down if we separate them.”

Itachi’s face pinched with a frown. “Izuna will try to kill you.”

Sakura simply shrugged. “Which is exactly what he’s been trying to do for months. It’s time he and I finished our little game.”

The fingers on her back suddenly dug into her skin. “This is not a game, Sakura.”

The intensity behind his voice gave her pause. She was quiet as she scanned the wall above the piano where a single picture hung. It was the first time she had ever noticed it, she realized. It was an old, weathered sheet of music. Though the song was one she didn’t recognize.

“No, it’s not a game,” Sakura repeated. “But it needs to end nevertheless.”

Itachi held his frown for a moment longer before he let it go with a sigh. Silently, he faced forward, his shoulder pressing into hers. With her own hands resting on her bare thighs, his fingers ghosted over the keys of the piano. Gingerly, he played a few notes. They were off-tempo and the pressure not quite right, but Sakura would recognize them anywhere. It was her song.

Her entire being down to her very soul froze. Her gaze dropped to his hands as she stared intensely, as if expecting him to play more. However, he wasn’t a musician and his hand fell away. Her eyes sought his face sharply, only Itachi wasn’t looking at her. He was frowning at the keys. As if frustrated he didn’t know more.

That look of surprise was still on her face when he finally picked his head up and met her gaze. It was then that she realized it had been no accident. He had learned part of her song.

She wondered how long he had sat here in the living room behind his piano and tried to recreate the music. Tried to recall from mere memory the notes he had heard her play time and time again.

Something swelled within her. Powerful and all-encompassing until she thought her chest might explode. Sakura’s body moved before her mind did.

In one second, she was sitting there, staring wide-eyed at Itachi and in the next, she was in his lap, her mouth pressed tightly against his. With their position, she towered over him and she raked her hands through his hair, forcing his head back as she angled his mouth to hers.

She kissed him hungrily. Kissed him like she was dying. Because in that moment, that’s what it felt like. There was so much emotion in her chest, she felt full, bursting. Like she was coming apart at the seams. And she didn’t know what to do with all of it, so she channeled it into that single kiss. Saying without words everything she didn’t know how to voice.

Itachi hesitated for one split second. Then he was kissing her too.

His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt and dug into her bare hips. He pulled her flush against him, her bare sex rubbing against the thin material of his sweats where she could already feel his member stirring. White hot arousal shot straight into her core and Sakura was grateful she had been too lazy to find her panties earlier.

Her hands fell to his shoulders as he tangled one hand into her hair and urged her head back. A low moan escaped her as Itachi pressed a row of kisses from her jaw, down her throat until he reached the collar of her stolen shirt, her voice echoing towards the ceiling. He pulled the neckline away, licking and sucking at the skin there too until he grew tired of the offending material.

Pulling back, Itachi grabbed the hem of her shirt before he jerked it over her head, leaving her deliciously naked in his lap. His mouth descended upon her breasts, drawing little sounds of pleasure from her as he suckled a nipple into a tight bud before nipping it lightly with his teeth.

Wetness was already pooling between her legs, dampening his sweats and tainting the air between them with sex. Her hands fell to his stomach, feeling the muscle flex there as he ground his hips up against hers. She tilted her head back further, a breathy moan leaving her as he switched to her other breast.

But it wasn’t enough. That emotion was consuming her, spreading through her veins like fire until she could barely think.

Grabbing the hem of his white beater, Sakura ripped his shirt over his head before she grabbed the back of his neck and jerked his mouth back to hers. Her hands raked through his hair, glad that he had left it down. She liked it more like this. She liked the way the silky strands carded through her fingers, liked how it framed his face. Liked how much easier it was to grip. She forced his head to the side to suck the underside of his jaw as she ground herself down into his lap.

“Slow down,” Itachi whispered hotly in her ear.

She didn’t. “I can’t.”

Itachi’s arms slipped away from their encircling embrace so his hands could grasp her wrists. He pulled her hands away before he leaned back to look at her. Really look at her. She wasn’t sure she liked how thoroughly he searched her face.

“Sakura-”

“I need you,” she said before he could finish.

As if he understood she meant more than physically, Itachi’s mouth froze, whatever he was about to say falling forgotten. His expression softened before he released his grip on her wrists. One arm snaked around her waist, his easy strength pulling her bare chest flush against his before he cupped her face and kissed her again, this time gently.

Sakura melted into his embrace, allowing them one moment of nothing but emotion. Their heartbeats fell into sync, their lungs inhaling and exhaling as one as he kissed her thoroughly, his lips so, so soft against hers.

Then Itachi was moving again. Sakura couldn’t contain her cry even if she tried when his fingers finally slipped between her legs. He spread the wetness there, most of it likely his own essence from their earlier round, before he teased her with gentle fingertips. When his fingers finally slipped inside, Sakura couldn’t help her throaty moan as she ground herself against his palm. And he let her.

“Come on, Sakura,” Itachi murmured, his voice thick with lust. “That’s a good girl.”

She sucked in a heavy breath, only for her lungs to dispel it again. She could feel her orgasm building, but it was just beyond her reach. She needed something bigger, something thicker to calm the raging fire of her arousal.

“Please, Itachi.”

She didn’t wait for him to give it to her. Pushing herself onto her knees, Sakura pulled the string of his sweatpants and yanked the material down until his manhood sprung free. She pumped him a few times before she forced his hand away and lined the head of his member with her center. Then she slid down until he was buried fully inside her.

They moaned simultaneously, enjoying the feel of the other, before Sakura began to move. She raised her hips slowly before she sank back down. With the narrow bench beneath them, it took her a minute to find her rhythm, but then she was moving.

The room filled with the sound of lust. The slap of skin-on-skin, the groan of the wooden bench below them, the panting of her breath and the low moans that escaped Itachi’s throat. He wrapped a secure arm around her waist as she leaned back, her hand finding purchase on the piano behind her. It let out a horrible mash of notes as her hand fell on the keys, but she gave it no notice. All that mattered was the man beneath and inside her.

Itachi found rhythm with her and he helped her take her pleasure until she tightened around him, crying his name. The arm around her middle kept her from falling back and he let her rest against him for a minute before he picked her up and set her against the plush rug in the middle of the room.

There Itachi’s pace was hard and deep, but there was a tenderness in which he held and kissed her. That emotion swelled within Sakura again and she arched under him as his pelvic bone ground against her sensitive bundle of nerves until she was coming apart again.

Itachi finished soon after before he laid beside her. Only once their heartbeats had slowed again did he wrap his arm around her waist and curl into her back. “Now will you come to bed?” he asked against her shoulder blade.

When she finally rolled onto her back, he braced himself up on one elbow. A smile played on her lips. “Are we going to be sleeping or doing something else?”

“You want another round?” he asked incredulously.

She laughed at the expression on his face, but wasn’t given the chance to answer when her phone suddenly rang on the counter across the room. They both glanced in its direction and waited for it to fall silent before their gazes found one another again.

Sakura opened her mouth, ready to answer his question when her phone went off for a second time. A frown crossed her lips. “I should probably get that.”

Itachi said nothing, but the arm around her waist fell away as she pushed herself to her feet. Quickly Sakura crossed the living room to catch the call before it went to voicemail.

“What is it?” she nearly demanded.

On the other end, Ino’s voice was grim. “We have a problem.”

Sakura listened intently, the furrow between her brows becoming deeper and deeper until she finally hung up. It took her a long moment to turn around, but when she did, she found Itachi standing on the other side of the kitchen watching her. He had pulled his sweatpants back on and gathered the rest of their clothes.

He read her expression immediately. “What happened?”

When she spoke, her voice was grim. “The ship that’s carrying Akatsuki’s cargo just entered the Lower Bay. It’ll be in port within the next few hours.”

As soon as those words were out of her mouth, Sakura was in motion. She turned and hurried upstairs where she picked her clothes off the floor. She slipped her underwear over her hips before she pulled her sports bra on. Itachi entered the room as she stepped into her jeans.

“Sakura, wait.”

“I can’t,” she said without pausing. “The shipment is here. We have to move. Now.”

He tossed the shirt – his shirt – the one she had worn onto the unmade bed as she found her own shirt and jerked it down over her head. She made to grab her keys and her wallet from the nightstand when Itachi grabbed her by the elbow and stopped her.

“Sakura.”

But that was all he said. Everything else was clearly written on his face. The tension in her form fell away. She gave him a small, sad smile. “Our time is up, Itachi.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

I don’t want to lose you.

He didn’t say the words, but she heard them clear enough. Because neither of them knew what the future held. They were both headed to battle. Casualties were not only possible, but expected. There were no guarantees that either of them would survive.

But Sakura had been in this war long enough that she had to see it through to the end. She just hoped she wouldn’t drag Itachi down with her.

“I’ll be okay,” she said with a smile she didn’t feel. “And you will be too. We can do this.”

Itachi’s response was a slight frown before he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. Automatically her hands came to rest on his chest, her palms smoothing over his collarbone until her fingers curled over his shoulders.

Then she pulled away, her eyes searching his.

Itachi met her gaze evenly. “I’ll will make the call,” he promised her.

She nodded, willing the sliver of guilt in her chest to subside before she grabbed her things and made her way out of the room. As she grabbed her phone from the kitchen counter, she couldn’t resist glancing at the piano one last time, her memory repeating over and over those shaky, uneven notes he had played for her. In that instant, she knew she would never get that sound out of her head.

Then Sakura forced herself to turn away. She had a battle to prepare for.

xx

Less than twenty minutes later, Sakura was back in her apartment. In the back of her closet, she pulled up a floorboard. Inside, there were half a dozen different guns with over three hundred rounds of ammunition. Quickly, she went through the process of loading her weapons and double checking that they were functioning properly.

Tossing them on her bed, she retrieved a fresh change of clothes from her dresser. She pulled on a black tank top and a new pair of jeans, ones that had a waistline big enough for her to tuck her guns into. She holstered a gun on either side of her hips and a third at the small of her back before she strapped a backup onto both ankles and jammed her feet into her boots.

After piling her hair into a high ponytail, she slipped on her leather jacket and peeked in the mirror. She gave herself a quick onceover, ensuring her weapons were within easy reach but well-hidden. Her reflection smiled proudly. A warrior disguised as a queen.

Turning away, Sakura grabbed her phone from her bed before she left her apartment and headed downstairs to her car. In the elevator, she texted Ino, asking for Kisame’s whereabouts and the status of everyone else. She needed to know where Tenten and Tobirama were. They only had so much time before the Akatsuki members would be summoned to the warehouse. Sakura needed them all taken out. Now.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Sakura stepped out. Only to still when she rounded the corner.

Kakashi was leaning against the trunk of her car, his arms and ankles crossed. He was dressed as usual in dark jeans and a black leather jacket. She resisted the urge to laugh at their similar attire, the memory of their last conversation still so fresh and raw.

The only reason she felt comfortable approaching him now was because the mask he occasionally wore over his mouth and nose was pulled down around his neck. If he was looking for another fight, he would have left his face covered. It made him so much harder to read.

Taking a deep breath, Sakura forced herself forward. He looked up upon the sounds of her footsteps but didn’t speak. She stopped a good five feet away from him. Kakashi noticed.

She swallowed thickly. “What’re you doing here?”

He shot her a look like she had just asked the dumbest question in the world. “What do you think I’m doing here?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” she said with a small shrug. She tried to sound nonchalant, but the bitterness and hurt crept into her voice.

It was enough to make Kakashi’s expression soften and he lowered his crossed arms. “Did you really think I would abandon you just like that?”

Sakura opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Because the answer was yes, she did think she had been abandoned. And she was ashamed she had thought so low of Kakashi. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why he was here now. After everything, why he still held such loyalties to her. And she asked.

“Why are you still here?” she murmured, unable to keep the waiver out of her voice. “After everything I’ve done, why do you keep coming back?”

There was a flicker of a smile across his lips. “I told you I always have your back, Sakura.”

“But why?”

He seemed to consider her for a moment, as if he suddenly understood she really didn’t know the answer. He let out a soft sigh.

“Do you remember when we were in Syria? How you saved me and tried to save my men?” he asked.

Sakura’s brows furrowed as her mind filtered through her memory. It had been after their initial meeting, after she had freed him from Gaara’s captivity and after he had found her the night she had put two bullets through Gaara’s head. Sakura had thought she and Kakashi had gone their separate ways. Only to unintentionally reunite in Syria.

That part of the world had been in the midst of a war with the United States. There was so much gunfire and so many bombs. Civilians and soldiers alike were dying left and right. The land was horribly scarred and the people that survived were even more so.

Sakura had been there buying arms from both sides. It wasn’t her war and she didn’t care where the weapons came from as long as she refilled her stores. At least until she had accidentally run into Kakashi. Literally.

She’d had two automatic weapons strapped to her back when she had taken shelter in an abandoned building as gunfire rained down on the city. Inside, Kakashi and his team had been doing the same and they would have shot her head off had Kakashi not ordered them to stand down.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” they had asked each other at the very same time.

Kakashi had been mum on the word, but Sakura had heard the rumors about a group of terrorists on the United States’ watchlist nearby. Only they were just that. A rumor. To lure American soldiers in.

Sakura had weighed her decision carefully to help Kakashi and his team. She had already helped him once and he had her. They didn’t owe each other anything. But there was nothing to gain from a group of dead soldiers. And the United States military weren’t answering their calls for help.

It was all a blur. Only Sakura and Kakashi had made it out alive without being gunned down. Sakura herself was amazed she had gotten away unscathed. Kakashi had been less fortunate with a bullet to the stomach. She had dropped him at the closest hospital, fully expecting him to die. She never expected to see the American Marine again. Nevertheless for him to show up on her door less than a year later.

Sakura hadn’t been entirely sure why he had sought her out. She figured it was something to do with her saving his life and he would leave as soon as he saw what it was she really did. Only he had stuck around. Time and time again.

Kakashi never spoke of the teammates he had lost that day and she didn’t ask. She knew it had fucked him up. It surprised her now that he had even brought it up. Though if she were being honest, she could see the parallels of then and what lay before them now.

“I didn’t think I was going to survive that day,” Kakashi continued quietly. “My own country abandoned my team and left us to die in that desert. Did leave them to die in the desert. They thought we were a lost cause. But not you. I should be dead. I would be dead if it wasn’t for you. So even if I do die, if it means I help or save you, I would do it. No questions asked.”

Even after everything she had been through, his sincerity touched her to her core. Her chin tremble and tears pooled in her eyes faster than she could blink them back. She could count on one hand and have fingers left over the number of times they had hugged, but neither of them held back now as Sakura stepped into the circle of his embrace.

Kakashi held her tightly against his chest, his arms wrapping tighter each time her shoulders trembled. He was all strength and support and unwavering loyalty. Exactly what she needed at that moment. She made a mental note to remember this moment forever.

Then Sakura wiped at her face and stepped away.

“I’m going after Kisame,” she told him. Because she knew that Kakashi deserved her full honesty. He deserved to know she was going after a federal agent.

Unperturbed, Kakashi nodded once. “Are you going to kill him?”

“That depends,” she said darkly.

“On?”

“If he’s betrayed Itachi or not.”

Kakashi didn’t immediately replied. His gaze looked her over, as if he was seeing every way Itachi had ever touched her. Physical and otherwise.

To her surprise, Kakashi didn’t question her. He simply patted the side of his jacket where she was sure he had a full-loaded weapon hidden. “And I am going with you. If you’re going after a Mossad Operative, you’ll need to scrub the room. You can’t leave a trace behind.”

It amazed her at how much she needed to hear those words. To know that she wouldn’t be going in alone against Kisame. The man was like a shark. He had been circling her for some time, just waiting to go in for the kill.

Sakura released a silent breath before she gave him a small smile.

Kakashi returned it before he straightened his spine. The soldier in him coming out full force.

“Now put your game face on. We’re going to war.”

tbc…

#hollow point #chapter 34 #itasaku #itachi #sakura #smut #lemon #the last hour #arms dealer au #crime au #shits getting real #real fast

[kathyprior4200]

Hazbin Hotel: That’s (Alastor’s) Entertainment!

“The Pilot is here! Follow Alastor, the Radio Demon as he pursues his goals of taking over Hell and messing with demons to keep his reputation intact. After seeing Princess Charlie announce her plan to rehabilitate sinners at her hotel, he arrives at the hotel to assist her. Along the way he meets porn film star Angel Dust and Charlie’s devoted girlfriend Vaggie. While Alastor seeks out new forms of entertainment, he also seems to have more sinister plans in mind.”

 The scene started with black curtains opening to a silhouette of a city. The words SpindleHorse Presents was written in white cursive before fading away.

 The building shadows were against a gray background with eye designs on it.

 A man with a radio voice sang a song.

 “At the end of the tunnel, there’s craziness.”

 A figure of a person was falling downwards through the darkness until ending at a tunnel of light. Shadows of demons falling into Hell were shown: Baxter, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Niffty, Robo Fizz, and others.

  “And to meet me, how often one dies…”

 A silhouette of a human man with glasses and short hair looked to the left, speaking from a microphone with one hand while using a knife in the other. To the far left were cowering human silhouettes.  A white smile shape was shown were the man’s mouth was.

 The man turned to the right in a running motion where a shadow of a policeman, a hunter and a growling dog were staring at him. The dog bared its shadow teeth and the two men aimed long shadow guns at him. Black splatters appeared from near the shadow man’s head and the figure collapsed to the ground.

 “Yes my life is a game

 Just a quest for fame…

 And my foes all smashed up like flies…”

   White spinning silhouettes of Exterminators, weapons pointed, flew around the shadow city, as a glowing pentagram was created in the center.

 The shadow of the killer man appeared again, this time growing shadow deer ears and little antlers. His eyes were glowing red and a shadow staff appeared in his hand.

 The killer stood small within the towering shadow of a man with large antlers and glowing red eyes: his father. A woman wearing a dress and her hair in a bun stood off to the side with a hand on his shoulder: his mother.

 “Why have I always been such a killer?”

 “What can the reason be?”

 Tentacles and sharp mouths overtook the scene.

  “I wonder if the world’s to blame

I wonder if it could be me…”

 A spinning globe was surrounded by large watching white eyes. Rising up were silhouettes of the Exterminators, grinning faces, xs over their right eyes, stained with blood, holding swords and spears. One Exterminator grinned as its white face, eyes, smile, and halo glowed in the darkness before fading.

 In Hell, a small planet had a glowing pentagram on it in the crimson colored sky. “Fuck you Heaven!” and “cleanse!” were written in red graffiti by a broken window. A paper with an Exterminator drawing blew away. Other red signs read “Punishment” and “Your days are numbered,” in big letters. Spears stuck out of dead demon’s mouths in the street. A light spun around from a tower.

 Another Extermination had ended. Dead bodies of demons and horned creatures littered the streets. Some of them had spears through their open mouths. Charlie had sadly strolled on her balcony and shot fireworks from her finger to signal that it was safe. Everyone gradually emerged from inside buildings and other hideouts. Already, turf wars were in full swing as demons fought over new territory. Other denizens disposed of the bodies while the more sinister ones ate them.

 One sinister demon was tall and slender, with grayish skin. He wore a red suit, red dress coat and wine colored pants. His shoes were black with red hoof prints on the soles. The dress coat was dark red and decorated with small vertical lighter red stripes. His undershirt was lighter red with a black upside down cross design. A black bow-tie with a red center was below his long neck. Finally, his thick hair was red and black, with fluffy deer-like tuffs poking from his head like ears. Two small black antlers were between them. He even had a red and black deer tail, which was hidden under the fabric of his suit. An oval monocle was under his right eye, connected by a chain. His large glowing red eyes and smile of sharp yellow teeth was enough to scare even the toughest demon away…and for good reason.

 He was Alastor, the Radio Demon, one of the most feared and powerful overlords in Hell. Possessing supernatural abilities and shadow manipulation, he had conquering many areas of Hell and defeated overlords who had been in power for years. Using a red vintage style microphone staff, he could broadcast his carnage and victories at will, hence why sinners called him the Radio Demon. He thrived on domination, trickery, and deceit…always in search for the next entertaining event. Alastor’s dark qualities were balanced out by his love of music, dancing, singing, and the finer things in life.

 Emerging from his underground lair in the shadow spirit realm via portal, Alastor sang a merry song as passerby cowered when he approached. It was around the same time when Charlie sang her lament.

   “At the end of the tunnel, there’s craziness

And to meet me, how often one dies

Yes my life is a game

Just a quest for fame

And my foes all smashed up like flies”

  “Why have I always been such a killer?

What can the reason be?

I wonder if the world’s to blame

I wonder if it could be me?”

  “I’m always seeking power

 Basking in light, for the show

 My schemes match up to my dreams

 No one else shall know”

 “Some people mope and find sadness

 I always laugh and show my grin

 Some people fail and rest in their sin

 With that I’ll always manage to win

 Believe me”

  “I’m always seeking power

 Waiting to hunt the gullible brown deer

 Again”

  Several signs read “Welcome to Hell: population, a fuck ton.” There were advertisements of drugs, food, casinos, weapons, and porn everywhere. Demons of all shapes and sizes roamed the streets, one flying demon caught a smaller one in its talons. Vox, Valentino and Velvet sat together in a Porn Studios building. A scientist and a wild haired demon picked up weapons to sell on the black market. Rosie crossed out the name “Franklin” on her emporium sign with a grin. It was now Rosie’s emporium. More demons picked up the dead remains and put them in shopping carts.  

   The clock tower rang out as the counter changed from 0 to 365 days until the next purge.

“Next cleanse” was over the counter in fancy letters.

 Against a black screen, the title “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel” appeared on a pink sign. A black winged key made up the letter T in “hotel.” A red eye was in the circle of the key.

  Sadly, the other characters didn’t get as much screentime as they did in the original episode. Instead of Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb fighting Sir Pentious in turf wars, we see Alastor and Vox in an intense argument before blasting each other with electricity, moving wires and tentacles and exchanging insults. The scene cuts to Angel Dust fighting Sir Pentious and the Egg Bois in the background as Alastor shakes his head.

 In fact, the blue demon that says “I’m alive!” gets immediately run over…but by a different vehicle owned by the self-proclaimed main character.

 And it’s not Charlie.

 Yep, the Radio Demon did have a car. A blood-red 1929 Packard modified and slightly modernized. Thanks to magic, it could go at fast speeds and even morph into shadow. It had regular tires instead of the typical wheels for the model and a metal step to get inside (though Alastor didn’t need it). The round headlights in the front hummed with bright red light, making them look like angry eyes that could stare into your souls. At high speeds, black radio dials would appear and move in the headlights. Since Alastor was so tall, there was no square roof overhead, just nice leather seats inside and of course, a car radio. Small Voodoo symbols decorated the sides of the vehicle and sometimes glowed in the dark.

 There was a metal grate in the front between the headlamps and below that was a row of sharp yellow teeth, reminiscent of Alastor’s smile. A little gold metal deer head was displayed and attached over the grate. The license plate in the back read “RDO DMN 666” for Radio Demon 666.  The car could also morph into newer vehicles as illusions. It wasn’t uncommon for demons to grow envious when they spotted the Radio Demon cursing around in a cherry colored convertible, sneaking around in a burgundy limo, or racing around in a crimson Porshe.

 That is until they saw the headlights and the Radio Demon’s grinning face before facing a harsh crushing impact before seeing darkness.

 Alastor would smirk like a bigshot with Rosie, Mimzy and several demon women in their seats.  Of course, he would hold open the door for them when stepping in and out. He would take them to clubs for dancing or to theaters at night. Other times, his shadow would appear in the seat next to him and shoot people from the shotgun spot. It was one of his classic jokes he liked to make.

    “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m opening the first of its kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners!”

 The audience stared in stunned silence after Charlie had finished talking. Not even the flesh-eating crickets were chirping through the awkward quiet.

 A bloodstained logo “Radio Hack” was displayed above a window which provided a stack of dozens of TVs inside. One demon watching had deer antlers and a flaming blue face, one of the many cruel overlords. Crymini, the 90’s hellhound, stood with a little demon wearing a jester hat upside down. Two hellhound twins stood nearby, one with dyed red hair, the other purple. A neon sign nearby read “Bar” “Klub Kanji,” and “used TVs.”

 In a bar, dark demons wearing cowboy hats were playing pool, not even paying attention. The lead demon wore a cloth over his grinning face and had a large barrel gun for an arm. His friend looked like a demonic bug, and another looked like a mustached villain from an old film. Meanwhile in a bar, purple and blue dragon-like demons sat and drank while casually watching the TVs overhead.

 Charlie stuttered, “Ya know…’Cause hotels are for people passing through…temporarily…”

 A tattooed dark blue reptile demon stood up and let out a loud laugh.

 “Is this girl for real? She thinks, you hear what she thinks? She…heh, heh, heh, oh she’s nuts.” The demon walked away with a small lavender creature and a tall maroon being wearing punk rock clothing and crazy neon hair.

 Charlie added, “I figure it would serve a purpose…a place work toward redemption!” She weakly added, “Yay.”

 With a tapping of his shoes, Alastor walked and stopped right behind Crymini, the flaming deer overlord and a demon with eyes and a couple mouths on his face. Hatchet, the white skinned red-haired Zoophobia dragon, smartly left the scene.

 He had heard of the demon princess before, but he wasn’t expecting her to appear on TV. He certainly never heard of an idea so crazy before. Making sinners good people was even less likely than making pigs fly (which was one magic trick he could do on occasion).

  Charlie stared around her, concerned. “Look, every single one of you has something good deep down inside. I know you do.”

 A light bulb went off into her head as she smirked. “Maybe I’m not getting through to you…”

 Vaggie face palmed, knowing what was coming next. “Oh no…”

 Charlie snapped her fingers and her bodyguard demons appeared. One sat and began to play a grand piano.

 Alastor stood behind two hellhound twins wearing crop tops and a hanging jester. Next to him was a poster that showed him in his demon form terrorizing the circus, demons trapped within flames inside the tent. His army of voodoo horned imps carrying knives and skulls on pikes surrounded the tortured sinners. The words were bold and full of warning: “BEWARE HIM!” “DO NOT FUCK WITH HIM!” In tiny letters off to the side on the wall read: “for a good time: 666-373-9494.”

 Alastor tilted his head to the side in curiosity. His shadow appeared off to his right, morphing into a snarling wendigo deer-like creature. He couldn’t help but tap his foot and hum along as she sang.

 He even started to sing to himself, making his own version of the song.

 “Inside of every demon is a lost cause

Inside of every sinner is a foolish failure

Inside of every godforsaken drug addicted manic…”

 Dude,” moaned a stupid demon with a boar head, “I’m trying to watch the show.”

 “Here’s a show I’ll give you,” Alastor thought as he snapped his fingers and sent the boar flying through the air and into a lava pit.

 “They’ll turn around

Dead in the ground

With just a little time

Down at her crappy hotel…”

 He did feel a bit unnerved at the part where she cuddled with a dog and then threw the dog away.

  After Charlie had finished singing, Alastor laughed out loud. That was quite the performance he had seen! He particularly enjoyed Charlie’s demon transformation and her conjuring of fire for the special effects. And he had to admit that she was a good singer too, despite her ridiculous idea.

 But his favorite part came up next.

 In the blaring red lights, Charlie and Katie fought each other on the desk. Katie was in her insect demon form, crawling on her hands and limbs. She briefly held Charlie down, who dodged and then leapt at Katie, knocking both of them off the table.

 “She’s pretty and has a feisty spirit,” Alastor thought.

 “Why won’t anyone help me?” Tom Trench yelled as flames rose from his body.

 “You’re on fire, Tom Trench!” Alastor exclaimed, while laughing at his own joke.

  Befriending the princess, and doing something different seemed like a good idea. He glanced over at a faraway Happy Hotel building.

 He knew where he would go next.

  After following the white limbo to the hotel in his car, he got out and made his way up to the double stained glass doors with the apple designs on them. Upon further inspection of the hotel, he noticed it was a unique design if not a bit under wear and tear. From the Titanic-like ship off to the side to the hanging carousel that made up a balcony…and perhaps his favorite part, the circus tent overhang in the front decorated with eye designs.

 He had never actually met Charlie before but he heard that she was powerful and different among the demons. For one, she was born in Hell, and two, she was the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith, king and queen of Hell.

 He would have to tread carefully around members of the royal family. Though he thought of them as amusing, he knew how powerful they were.

 Sweat formed on his forehead and he found himself glancing around.

  Why was he suddenly…nervous?

 Somebody like him couldn’t afford to let any sign of weakness show. Of course He wanted to make a good first impression, plus he was sort of curious as to why she would pursue this rehabilitation idea. His nervousness faded away when he imagined Charlie as naïve. Maybe he could easily trick her and not have to be caught by anyone?

 The best thing he could do for the moment was be polite and offer to help. As any good charmer and manipulator knew, first impressions and the process were everything…

 And a nice big smile was the crème de la crème.

  Puffing out his chest, he knocked on the door.

 It was a very slow “Shave and a Haircut knock.”

  The knocking from outside interrupted Charlie’s thoughts. She opened her eyes.

  An ice cold feeling of dread spread through her veins. No other demon would ever do that kind of knock.

 Unless…

 She tentatively reached out her hand to the door handle, and quickly pulled it open.

 Sure enough, the most feared demon in Hell was standing right outside her door. A couple of shadow spirits poked their heads through.

 Charlie’s face morphed into sheer terror, eyes wide as saucers.

 Yes, there she was, right in front of him. Alastor opened his eyes as they glowed red, a radio sound emitting from him. His eyes dilated playfully as he raised a finger in greeting.

 “Hell…”

 The door abruptly slammed shut.

 Brief silence.

 Charlie opened it again…

 “…oooo!”

 Slammed it again.

 Alastor could hear Charlie’s muffled voice from inside.

 “Hey Vaggie!”

 “What?”

 “The Radio Demon is at the door!”

 “What?!”

 “Who?” asked Angel.

 “What should I do?!” Charlie asked.

 “Well, don’t let him in!” Vaggie said.

  A growl formed in Alastor’s throat.

 He stood there, shocked in front of the stained glass door, smile still plastered on his face, hand and curved claw in the air.

 “Well… that was…rude,” he thought. “Usually people are too sacred to answer when I come by. Or they rush to try and please me because they know I could slaughter them at any time. I’ll just wait here then…or maybe break this door down…”

 He had been turned down not once but twice by her! If she had been an average demon, she would’ve been a bloody heap on the floor. The princess should know better than to reject anyone like that, especially a prideful demon like himself.

Any offense to his pride would not go unnoticed.

 Charlie opened the door again.

 “May I speak now?” Alastor asked, hiding his anger.

 “You may,” said Charlie.

 Alastor held out his right hand to her, which briefly glowed. He half expected her to reach out and shake it right away…which would’ve proven her naïve nature…but instead she just stood there.

  “Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart, quite a pleasure.”

 He eagerly grabbed her wrist and leaned his face close to hers before strutting inside. Charlie stood, dumbfounded, her hand still out.

 “Excuse my sudden visit,” he went on, “but I saw your fiasco on a picture show and I just couldn’t resist. What a performance!”

Audience cheers came from his staff as he turned around.

  “Why I haven’t been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929!”

 He bobbed his head side to side and burst into laughter. He glanced back at Charlie who was by the door. “So many orphans!”

 A sharp spear was suddenly pointed at him. He froze in fear, his smile still on his face.

 “Stop right there!” It was Vaggie.

 She swore in Spanish under her breath: “Carbon hijo de perra! (Son of a bitch!) I know your game. And I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone here, you pompous, cheesy, talk show shitlord!”

 Alastor’s eyes narrowed and glowed. He made a low noise of warning.

 “You have a lot of nerve to stand up to me like that, girl,” he thought. “You don’t know anything about me, and you certainly aren’t going to stand in my way.”

 Alastor merely laughed slightly and nudged the weapon away with his fingers. Charli and Vaggie were in front of him.

 “Dear, if I wanted to hurt anyone here…”

 He added in a low creepy tone, “I would have done so already.”

 His red eyes briefly turned to red radio dials and radio static filled the room. He tilted his head slightly, letting his chaotic magic roam. Vaggie and Charlie were frozen in fear as they caught glimpses of red Voodoo symbols, static, and warped reality.

 Then just as quickly, the noise and magic ceased and Alastor shook his head, eyes back to full red. For a brief moment, they had been small red pupils inside black sockets.

 “That scare should teach them to remember their place,” he thought.

He bowed. “No, I’m here because I want to help!”

 Charlie was sure she hadn’t heard him right.

 “Say what now?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

 “Help!” he responded with another laugh, leaning in close before moving back.

 He held up his microphone staff.

  “Hello?” he asked with a laugh. “Is this thing on? Testing, testing…”

 He tapped it and a glowing red eye appeared in the center. “Well, I heard you loud and clear!” the microphone responded, eye shaking in fear.

 “Um…you want to help?” Charlie asked.

 Alastor appeared behind the demon girls, hands on their backs, switching from a shadow to his regular self. Both Vaggie and Charlie flinched.

 “With…” he mentioned in an imitation of Charlie’s voice,

“…this ridiculous thing you’re trying to do!” finishing in his normal voice. “This hotel!”

 Charlie could hear the call bell ding twice on the table, even though no one was there to ring it.

 “I want to help you run it.”

 “Uh…why?” Charlie asked, confused.

 Alastor laughed again. “Why does anyone do anything? Sheer absolute boredom! I’ve lacked inspiration for decades!”

 He placed his elbow on an annoyed Vaggie’s head.

 “My work became mundane...lacking focus…”

 He then shoved Vaggie aside. She was clearly an inferior little doll he could push around.

 “…aimless!” he continued. “I’ve come to crave a new form of entertainment!”

 He laughed again.

Charlie looked downcast. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as entertainment?”

 Alastor laughed again.

 “It’s the purest kind, my dear! Reality! True passion! After all, the world is a stage! And the stage is a world of entertainment!”

 Charlie brightened a bit. “So, does this mean that you think it’s possible to rehabilitate a demon?”

Alastor help up a hand and laughed. “Of course not. That’s wacky nonsense! Redemption, oh the non-existent humanity! Nononono, I don’t think there’s anything left that could save such loathsome sinners!”

 He glanced at Vaggie and Angel Dust sitting on the sofa, mischief in his eyes. They would be fun to mess with.

  “The chance given to them was the life they lived before; the punishment is this!”

  He spread out his arms, turning away. “There is no undoing what is done!”

 His eyes glowed red, pupils constricted. There really was no way to change the past. All the sinners were destined to suffer in a matrix of pleasure, illusion, and the threat of a second death. For Alastor, every demon was a lost cause…and paradoxically, that also included him.

 He had dealt with authority figures before in his previous life…those racist religious folk who believed that God and the elite had complete control over his fate and the fate of everyone else. Now here it was again, in the form of God, the angels, Vox, Lucifer pretty much anybody he hated. It wasn’t his fault he killed and ate all his victims. If certain people hadn’t pushed him over the edge…

 He glanced over when he heard Charlie’s voice.

 “So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t believe in my cause?” Charlie asked.

 Alastor smirked and looked at Charlie over his shoulder. “Consider it an investment in ongoing entertainment for myself!”

 He pulled her close to him with his arm and twirled her around in a quick dance. Charlie narrowed his eyes at him and gave him a look. He ignored her. “I want to watch the scum of the world struggle to climb up the hill of betterment! Only to repeatedly trip and tumble down to the fiery pit of failure.”

 His eyes glowed red and his left eyebrow raised slightly. Just the thought of having the fates and lives of demons in his hands was enough to get him excited…or perhaps even aroused.

“Right…” Charlie began, slowly removing his clawed hand from her shoulder. Alastor’s hand flinched at the sudden touch.

 Alastor chuckled and took her aside for a walk. “Yes indeedy! I see big things coming your way, and who better to help than I.”

 He impressed her further with some charm and making his staff appear in his hand.

  Vaggie walked up to Charlie and pulled her aside.

 “Charlie, listen to me. You just can’t believe this creep! He isn’t just a happy face! He’s a dealmaker, pure evil! He can’t be redeemed! And is most likely looking for a way to destroy everything we’re trying to do.”

 Alastor drummed his fingers against his palm, listening in on their conversation with a grin.

 “I…” Charlie began. “…we don’t know that. Look…I know he’s bad, and I know he probably doesn’t wanna change, but the whole point of this is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better! How can I turn someone away? I can’t. It goes against everything I’m trying to do. Everything I believe in.”

 Alastor stared in fascination at a family picture on the wall. It showed Lucifer dressed in white, Lilith in a dark purple dress, and Charlie as a little girl wearing a brown and white dress in the middle. The picture border consisted of branches and yellow eyeballs and a dried rose in the upper right hand corner.

 “Such a lovely portrait! A picture of perfection! It’d be such a shame if something awful were to happen to them…”

 “Just trust me,” Charlie added placing comforting hands on her girlfriend’s shoulders, “I can take care of myself.”

 Charlie,” warned Vaggie, “Whatever you do, do not make a deal with him!”

 From a distance, Alastor opened up the palm of one hand, claws curled inward, hand glowing. From his viewpoint it looked like he was grabbing onto both girls. They glanced in his direction, worry on their faces.

 “I’ll have these two in the palm of my hand…”

 “Don’t worry, Charlie replied to Vaggie. “I picked up one thing from my Dad…” she spoke in a manly voice, “Ya don’t take shit from other demons!”

 Gathering her courage, Charlie marched over to the Radio Demon.

  “Ok, so…Al. You’re sketchy as fuck, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a joke. But I don’t.”

 Charlie turned away. She was so close and so vulnerable.

 Red Voodoo symbols floated around Alastor as his eyes glowed.

 “If you could stay turned around so I can knock you out…” he thought.

Charlie narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously and the symbols vanished.

 “So close,” he thought in frustration as she turned around to face him.

  Charlie continued. “I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no tricks or voodoo strings attached.”

 Alastor twirled his cane and held out his hand. “So it’s a deal then?”

 Flashes of eerie green light surrounded him, electricity snaking up the walls.

 “Nope!” Charlie yelled, holding out her hands. The energy stopped. “No shaking! No deals!”

 Alastor’s eyes constricted. “She rejected my deal,” he thought. “This will be more challenging than I expected.”

 He walked forward a step.

 Charlie continued.  “As princess of Hell, and heir to the throne, I uh, hereby order that you help with this hotel, for a long as you desire.”

 A moment of pause…he brushed his hair back.

 “Sound fair?” she asked.

  “Hmm. Fair enough. Cool beans.” Alastor shrugged, walking on and making his cane disappear. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and even did a thumbs up.

 Alastor stopped and spotted Vaggie off to the side. How pathetic she was, frowning like that. He smirked in a way outside observers would describe as lecherous. He tickled her under her chin with a finger.

 “Smile, my dear! You know you’re never fully dressed without one!”

 Alastor hummed happily on his way, while Vaggie growled in disgust and rage.

 “So…where is your hotel staff?” Alastor asked.

 “Uh, well…” Charlie began. Alastor peered at Vaggie through his monocle. “Oh ho ho ho, you’re going to need more than that.”

 He walked over towards Angel.

 “And what can you do, my effeminate fellow?”

 Angel grinned. “I can suck your dick!”

 Alastor could almost scream in disgust after hearing that.

 “Ha! No.” Alastor deadpanned.

 “Your loss,” Angel said with a slight laugh. Alastor summoned his cane.

“Well, this just won’t do!” Alastor exclaimed. “I suppose I can cash in a few favors to liven things up!”

 The spell came easily in his mind: “dife sèvitè, reveye.”

  He snapped his fingers and a fire sparked to life in a small circular fireplace. Animal skeletons decorated either side of the wall. The wall and fireplace were repaired.

 A dark figure plopped down onto the chimney floor.

 Alastor walked over and picked up the creature with his hand. A large single yellow eye was revealed. Angel, Vaggie, and Charlie peered at the creature. In a puff of smoke and a squeak, the creature revealed herself. A cute cyclops girl was wearing a pink dress with a poodle on the front, her short wide hair dark magenta with a streak of yellow.

 “This little darling is Niffty!” Alastor introduced, before dropping her. She landed on her feet. She was an adorable little thing.

“Hi! I’m Niffty!” she greeted with a wave. “It’s nice to meet you! It’s been a while since I’ve made new friends!” She laughed slightly and her pupil grew smaller, darting in circles.

 “Why are you all women?” she asked. “Have any men here?! I’m sorry, that’s rude.” She missed the fact that Angel was male, for obvious reasons.

 She briefly picked up Charlie, while Vaggie held her spear defensively at her.

 “Oh man, this place is filthy!” she exclaimed, running around and lifting up couch cushions. “It really needs a lady’s touch, which is weird, because you’re all ladies, no offence.” She chewed on a black spider she found, then rushed toward some stained glass windows.

 She darted around, using a dust ruffle to clean them. “Oh my gosh, this is awful! No, no, no…Nope!”

 She raced around, removing cobwebs, then poking at a piece of a voodoo doll. Well, it was actually a live blue beetle doll that Alastor had stabbed with a clothing pin for Niffty to play with. Alastor looked amused, while the others stared in disbelief.

 “So fortunate of me to have met her in Hell. A former chimney sweeper in the 20th century. Heard she died from too much smoke. Services are still good! Though, I didn’t give her much of an option to begin with…” he thought.

   Meanwhile, at a casino, a cat demon placed a joker, an ace, a 2, and a fourth card down on the table. He had black and white fur, wore a black top hat and had red wings with card suits decorated on them. He also had long red eyebrows and wore a red bow tie.

 “Ha!” he declared in triumph. “Read ‘em and weep, boys!”

 He suddenly felt himself being forcefully pulled out of the room through space and time.

  “Full…whoa!”

 “Transpòte ganbadeur la.”

 He ducked as a curtain of red energy surrounded the existing space. Voodoo symbols flashed in the background along with eight yellow eyes, a creepy voodoo skull and a purple skeleton of a worm-like creature. Another voodoo skull with horns appeared for a moment not too far from tan ghost-like spirits with creepy faces and a row of jagged teeth.

 The cat demon figured he must have had too much booze to drink.

 “…the hell?”

 As the images faded, he soon found himself at the hotel bar, not in the previous room at the casino. A large “Come and play Blackjack” sign took up much of the wall behind him. Most peculiar, the gray wood walls were missing halfway up, replaced by the red themed décor of the hotel. Husk was sitting in a portion of the casino he was in. It felt like he was in a house with no roof surrounded by the outside world.

 “What the fuck is this?”

 He saw Alastor and pointed an accusing claw.

 “You.”

 “Ah, Husker, my good friend!” Alastor cheerfully greeted. “Glad you could make it!”

 Husk could have at least been polite for once, but Alastor decided to let it slide.

 Alastor’s head briefly had the appearance of large antlers sticking out from either side. When he moved it, it was revealed to be an antler skull with glowing green eyes hanging in the background. Snakes were wrapped around one of the white curtains supporting a bar stand. “Big Booze,” “Welcome” and “Big Soul” signs were placed overhead on the stand. Neon green card suits consisted of the designs at the bottom of the stand.

 “Don’t you “Husker” me, you son of a bitch!” Husk spat, and swiped Alastor’s hand aside from his shoulder. “I was about to win the whole damn pot!”

Husk stared in anger as the stacks of money and chips on the table vanished in static.

 “Good to see you too!” added Alastor.

 Husk face palmed. “What the hell do you want with me this time?”

 Alastor grabbed hold of him, startling him so much that cards fell from his hands.

 “My friend, I am doing some charity work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services! I hope that’s okay.”

 Husk was taken aback. “Are you shittin’ me?!”

 “No, I don’t think so,” Alastor replied. He casually brushed off his sleeves.

 Husk shoved the Radio Demon off him. “You thought it would be some kind of big fuckin’ riot just to pull me outta nowhere? You think I’m some kinda fuckin’ clown?”

 “Maybe.”

 Audience laughter emitted from the microphone.

 “I ain’t doin’ no fuckin’ charity job,” Husk protested.

 Alastor appeared next to him, startling the cat demon. “Well I figured you would be the perfect face to man the front desk of this fine establishment.”

 He pointed toward the bar stand with the staff. The sound of audience clapping came from his radio staff.

 “With your charming smile and welcoming energy…”

 Alastor spread the corners of Husk’s mouth upward into a demonic smile of yellow teeth. Husk frowned seconds after he let go.

 “…this job was made for you!”

 Alastor strutted over toward the bar stand, the soles of his shoes revealing red hoof prints as he walked.

 “Don’t worry, my friend,” Alastor continued, “I can make this more welcoming…if you wish.”

 With a curve of his fingers, a green bottle of cheap booze appeared on the counter.

 Husk stared with wide eyes, suddenly very thirsty. He swore he could hear the sound of a slot machine.

 “What, you think you can buy me with a wink and some cheap booze?!” He took the bottle on anger. “Well you can!”

 He immediately guzzled it down and walked away.

 “Too easy,” thought Alastor.

 By this time, Charlie, Vaggie and Angel Dust had arrived to see what the commotion was about. Vaggie rushed toward the bar, furious.

 “Hey, hey, hey, hey!” yelled the moth demon. “No, no bar, no alcohol. This is supposed to be a place that discourages sin! Not some kind of…mouth, brothel, man-cave…”

 Angel lunged himself into her, knocking her to the floor.

 “Shut up! Shut! Up! We are keeping this.” He pointed at Husk with multiple gloved hands.

  He slid up to Husk. “Hey,” he said in a flirtatious voice.

“Go fuck yourself,” Husk deadpanned, drinking his booze.

 “Only if you watch me,” Angel retorted.

 To make matters worse for Husk, Charlie leaned in close to him, excitement and red stars in her eyes.

 “Oh my gosh! Welcome to the Happy Hotel! You are going to love it here!”

 “I lost the ability to love years ago,” Husk replied, gulping down more booze.

Alastor walked in, an ever-present grin on his face.

 “So, what do you think?”

 Charlie ran over to him. “This is amazing!” she beamed.

 Alastor’s eyes blinked rapidly at the sweet sight of Charlie rubbing her cheeks and smiling at him. He could watch it all day.

 “It’s okay,” Vaggie said from nearby, arms crossed.

 Alastor laughed and pulled the two girls close to him. “This is going to be very entertaining!”

 He shoved Vaggie again and his laughter mixed with the sound of an old radio.

 Alastor conjured fire in his hand…Charlie stared in wonder at the flames and the voodoo symbols. He threw the flames in the air, distracting Charlie from him shoving aside her friend hard. Alastor then changed his attire with magic. He now wore a fancy red suit with a white undershirt and a black bow tie. A red top hat appeared on his head, complete with small spikes along the black band and two needles sticking out from the top. He twirled Charlie around in a dance, the princess looking stunned. Pointing his finger over her head, he transformed Charlie’s outfit. Her blonde hair was now short and wavy. She wore an elegant black and red dress, black gloves, a pink hat with a small black bow and black heels. She looked like a dapper lady from the early 20th century.

 Charlie stared at her conjured clothing in amazement.

Vaggie was on the floor, fuming.

 Alastor began to sing as he danced with Charlie, a new spring in his steps.

 “You have a dream

 You wish to tell

 He turned to the fuming Vaggie on the floor, letting her know that he thought Charlie’s idea was silly.

 “and it’s so laughable…”

 He turned back to Charlie.

 “But hey kid, what the hell!”

 Alastor picked Charlie up and threw her into the air. She yelped in delight and landed gracefully next to him. Two glowing apples and a skull with deer horns flashed in the background.

 Reality had been altered to the Radio Demon’s liking. The entire room was lit in psychedelic colors. Voodoo symbols and shapes were etched in every nook and cranny, including a pair of pink claws reaching for the door. Alastor and Charlie waltzed in the spotlight as electro swing music began to play in the distance. The all-encompassing noise, though, was the signature radio-static sound.

 Charlie found herself sliding down one of the apple-etched railings, Alastor leading the way. They landed on the lower floor as Alastor continued his reprise.

 “Cause you’re one of a kind

A charming demon belle!”

 Deer statues and painted antlers were everywhere.

 Back at the bar stand, Husk sat looking bored. Vaggie hissed at Angel grabbing onto her shoulder, while Niffty stared in wonder. Alastor snapped his fingers and their outfits changed as well.

 Angel was wearing a neon pink suit, Husk a pink bow tie, Vaggie a dark dress, with her hair now smooth and long, and finally Niffty, with a cute top hat with small flowers.

 “Now let’s give these burning fools a place to dwell

(Take it, boys!)”

 Alastor snapped his fingers once more and shadowy imps rose to life from a hole in the ground. The happy spirits played a trumpet, a tuba, and a drum set. Charlie snapped her fingers to the beat, while Vaggie watched with worry. She reached out to her friend but was pulled away by Alastor. He enveloped the group into a tight hug with a laugh, followed by glowing images of dark spirits staring at them. Niffty watched in amazement, but not the other three.

 “Inside of every demon is a lost cause…”

Alastor pulled Husk and Angel close again. He rubbed Angel’s head with a white hat and went on his merry way. Husk gave him the bird as he left.

 “But we’ll dress ‘em up now with just a smile!”

(With a smile!)

  Vaggie stood, annoyed in the spotlight. Using his cane, Alastor added a feathered peacock hat and a white fox fur to her outfit. She looked ridiculous. Then out of nowhere, he slapped her butt.

 Vaggie seethed in rage after he walked away.

 Alastor danced some more, kicking a horned skull to the side. In the background, Niffy happily swept up the bits of bone.

 “And we’ll chlorinate this cesspool

With some old redemption flair

And show these simpletons some proper class and style!

(What’s in style? Oh!)”

 He made his way to the circular fireplace, where he waved his staff. Shadows arrived to join the party, including a shadowy version of himself, with large antlers and fangs. He made it disappear in a poof, then snuck toward Charlie. He led her in an upbeat dance, spinning her around, helping her match her steps to his. Charlie blushed when Alastor toyed with her cheeks. As Charlie was led away, Vaggie stood in the background, horrified and disgusted. What was happening to her friend?

 Charlie and Alastor laughed as they danced, the princess locked in a happy trance. Alastor was in his element, his pupils dilated, a joyful demeanor.

 Maybe this could turn into something more? Could it even be…love?

 “Here below the ground

I’m sure you’re plan is sound!

They’ll spend a little time

Down at this Hazbin Ho…”

  Alastor was about to finish his song, when an explosion burst apart a window behind him. He stood frozen, pupils constricting, his body going alert.

 Whatever, or whomever had interrupted his song was going to pay dearly.

 Niffty stared in amazement, shouting “Whoo!” before she was blasted backwards, the door hitting her in the face.

 Alastor’s spell soon wore off and everyone was back in their regular clothes. Alastor, Husk (still drinking), Niffty, Charlie, Angel, and Vaggie, peered out of the hole to see what was going on. Vaggie had her weapon at the ready.

 Looking skyward, the group saw a cracked blimp in the air. It had a small random band aid with a sad face on it along the rim. A familiar snake villain popped out of his hideout.

 “Ha!” Sir Pentious laughed. “Well, well, well, look who it is harboring the striped freak! We meet again, Alastor!”

 Apparently, he was also rivals with Alastor.

 But Alastor simply asked, “Do I know you?”

 The snake boss looked disappointed. Then he said in anger, “Oh yes you do! And this time, I have the element of…surprise!”

 The villain raced toward his pink velvet chair and pulled a lever. A metallic cannon lowered to the ground. The cannon fired up with pink energy as pink smoke appeared around them.

 “He laughed manically. “I’m so evil!”

 Then he added, “I have an Egg army!”

 “Well, we have an Alastor,” Charlie responded.

 Alastor snapped his fingers, red tendrils of smoke rising from his hand. The weapon froze in mid fire and a fiery portal opened up below the blimp.

 A horde of black tendrils rose from the hole, latching onto the ship. One tentacle ripped off the cannon and threw it into another smaller portal, causing it to explode in pink smoke. One of the tentacles had already smashed a hole in the large round window.

 Sir Pentious looked on in shock as his Egg Bois slammed against the wall (one of them read #Ouch.) One of the eggs cracked open, spilling out yellowish brains and small organs among the stains of yok. Sir Pentious and another minion were thrown against the wall.

 “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he screamed before he was slammed against the ceiling by a black limb.

 “Oh, that hurt!” he cried.

 Sir Pentious screamed as he was dragged along the floor and lifted up slightly. He was held in place, surrounded by the wrapped up tendril. At once, the tendril shrunk and squeezed the helpless snake. The Egg Bois ran around screaming as black cracks appeared on the floor and walls.

 From the outside, more black tendrils were closing in. Red voodoo symbols appeared around the blimp.

 “Ede m 'sèrviteur.”

 Four horned shadowy spirits with red auras floated around, wearing toothy grins.

 The tendrils were now wrapped around the entire blimp, holding it in place like thick black vines.

 Red radio waves filled Alastor’s eyes as he circled his fingers and worked is magic. Voodoo symbols appeared all around him as he altered the state of reality. Radio static consumed the air.

The vines thickened and completely enclosed the blimp. The spirits swooped around it in excitement, with echoing shrieks. The aura around the tendrils glowed a fiery yellow, the same color as the portal rim.

 “Kalfu! Destriksyon pa bra nwa.”

 Alastor closed his four-fingered hand which began to glow. A red drop of blood fell from his glowing hand. The tendrils proceeded to crush the blimp. Pink rays of light shot from the center and the blimp exploded in a loud BOOM!

 Pink smoke spread everywhere as the spirits sped away. The tendrils broke into severed bloody pieces that rained down to the ground. Alastor smiled victoriously, while behind them, the group of five stared in utter terror and shock. (Save for Niffty who had a small smile on her face).

 Alastor’s angry, bloodlust eyes spoke volumes.

 “And stay out of this hotel and from my friends you pathetic excuse of snakeskin.”

A sharp pain throbbed on his hand and bags appeared under his eyes. Magic had taken some work from him…and it also made him hungry.

 “Well, I’m starved!” Alastor exclaimed, turning around to face the group, happy again. “Who wants some jambalaya?” He spread his arms out. “My mother once showed me a wonderful recipe for jambalaya! In fact, it nearly killed her!”

 He laughed as he led the way back to the hotel. The others followed.

 “You could say the kick was right out of Hell!”

 He added while laughing at his own joke, “Oh, I’m on a roll!”

 From up above, the hotel looked like a mashed-up haunted house. An old dark train was perched on a balcony, with some monstrous faces carved in. A ship, reminiscent of the Titanic, was leaning upwards against the building as part of the structure. An old carousel served as part of the upper balcony and windows. Skull designs decorated the small windows in a row. Finally, on top of a giant yellow eye, was the sign “Happy Hotel” supported by pillars of worn wood.  

Alastor continued, “Yes, sir, this is the start of some real changes down here! The game is set! Now…”

 He glanced up and pointed his finger toward the sign. Pink electricity shot out and made contact with the sign.

 The sign now read “Hazbin Hotel.”

 “Stay tuned,” he finished with a low sinister laugh.

#alastor #hazbinhotel #radiodemon

[hergrandplan]

Look I forgot to send this at the time but for a dimya prompt: waking up and realizing you accidentally got married in Vegas

Woah, so this one has been sitting in my inbox for quite some time. Like literal months. And i loved this prompt, only i got stuck trying to make it longer which i today realized i shouldn’t try. So after having let it simmer for weeks, I finally returned to it today. So without further ado…. (Ps. you can also find this on A03 but as Tumblr is killing links/I haven’t uploaded it there yet I won’t link it)

What The Hell Happened in Vegas?

The sunlight streamed in through the window, waking Anya up.The light blinded her, and it took her eyes a few moments to adjust. The roomsmelled like stale alcohol, and her head felt like it had been pounded with amullet hammer. She also couldn’t recall anything about the previous night.

Anya tried sitting up in bed a little, though the movementonly made her headache worse. Not to mention, she felt like throwing up. Shemanaged to open her eyes and looked around a little. The room she found herselfin was a mess; clothes were scattered everywhere as if ripped off in a hurry.Not just her clothes though, also someone else’s, though whose, she couldn’t quiteremember - she guessed they belonged to whatever or whoever was lying next toher under a pile of blankets. Her heart beat quickened and she looked down; herpanties seemed to be on, which was good. Though of course that was no clearindicator whether something had happened last night or not.

Anya also remembered where she was; at least in what city,and hotel. She had decided to go on a trip to Las Vegas with a couple offriends two days before. Her sisters Maria, Olga, and Tatiana, some friendsfrom work and old friends from college and … Dmitry.

Anya was pulled out of her thoughts when the lump next toher rolled over and she spotted a tuft of black hair poking out. She started tohave a general idea to who it could be, though she really hoped that wasn’t thecase. Because if it were well… simply put, she was in big trouble.

The day had started outnormal enough. It was the week of her birthday, and Anya was excited for it.She was going to hit the big 3-0. The best part was that she had nothingplanned at all, which was perfect for her. When the clock read 1 pm, herdoorbell rang. Upon opening it, she was greeted by a bunch of screaming girls;her best friends, namely her sisters, in the whole world, though she was asdifferent from them as apples from oranges. Through lots of screaming andshouting they informed her they had planned a surprise trip to Las Vegas forher big birthday that week, and that her job had already been informed, andthat she should start packing immediately because their flight would leave thatnight.

It was nearingmidnight when she arrived at the airport, bags packed and ready to leave. Shewas nervous; she didn’t know what she was to expect; she could say that she wasat the very least surprised when she saw Dmitry there. It was true that Dmitrywas her friend, but were they really close enough to be spending a weekend inVegas together? She noticed some of the girls snickering and figured that theyhad done this on purpose. They had always been joking about there being somekind of special tension between Anya and Dmitry. Anya shot them a glare, andthe snickering stopped.

It would be rude ofher to now uninvite him, she figured. He had paid for his ticket and his hotel,so she just decided to go along with it. One thing she felt was certain though;she was not going to play along with their little plan, whatever it may be.  

The following dayconsisted of sightseeing, shopping and mid-day drinking. Anya was glad that herfriends had come up with this gift. That night, they started by seeing avariety show, and then made their way to the casino adjacent to their hotel.Some place called the Caesar Palace. She wasn’t exactly sure, though thatdidn’t matter.

Immediately the groupdisbanded and ventured to various games. Some tried their hand at the machines,others decided to test their luck at a game of blackjack or poker. Anya decidedto have a stab at roulette. It seemed that she wasn’t the only one with thatidea, as she saw Dmitry following her out of the corner of her eye.

She had been noticinghim a lot this weekend, also because he had stayed relatively close to her. Hehad sat next to her during the show, across from her during dinner. Anya hadjust shrugged it off as a limited space of seating, and now as a similar tastein gambling games. Whatever the cause, she decided not to let it bother her.Not even when he chose the seat next to her.

“So, roulette?” hesaid with a coy smile as he placed a few fiches on 27 black.

“Maybe my Russianheritage will bring me some luck,” she joked as she placed her own on 18 red.

“Well, we’ll see whichone of us has the most Russian blood, then.”

Up until now, she hadno idea Dmitry was Russian as well. She had guessed it, yes. The name was avery clear indicator. But he had never told her outright.

“You’re Russian?” sheasked him surprised. The dealer spun the wheel.

“I was born inPetersburg, but after my parents died I was adopted into the U.S.” Alsosomething Anya hadn’t known before; that he was an orphan. She guessed it wasjust the alcohol talking; that substance really makes you reveal your darkestsecrets.

Anya had come to theU.S. as a child as well, only her parents had emigrated. Not that that reallymattered, as they were both dead now. Car crash.

“I’m sorry,” she said.“How old were you?”

“Eight.”

The ball finallylanded. 18 red.

“Congratulations,birthday girl,” Dmitry said.

Anya laughed. Firstgame of the night, and already successful. They stayed at that table for acouple of rounds. Most of which Anya won, by the way. She felt that it wasreally her night. Dmitry, however, kept losing, and after five rounds heannounced that he was going to try something else. Anya stood up to follow him.“Let me buy you a drink first,” she said. “I have money to spare anyways.”

Together they walkedto the bar, where they had numerous drinks together. Anya treated herself toLong Island Ice Teas, while Dmitry stuck to classic vodka. It was good andright. They were laughing, sharing stories about Russia, commenting on thepeople they saw walking past. All was happy. Anya truly felt happy.

“You wanna knowsomething?” Dmitry said at one point. His voice was slurred, due to all thevodka.

“Enlighten me.” Anyatook another long sip.

Dmitry didn’t sayanything for a while, he just stared at her. And then, without saying anotherword, he leaned over and kissed her.

It took Anya a coupleof seconds to register. But she didn’t push him back. In fact the oppositehappened; she engaged. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that sheshould not being doing this, that she was drunk and she should probably go upto her hotel room, but her body wasn’t listening to reason.

She became very awareof Dmitry’s body against hers. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled herclose. She could feel every curve of his body, every muscle pulling taut. Shefelt his hands everywhere. She felt his lips, his tongue brushing her teeth.She felt him.

They both pulled backat the same time and looked deeply into each other’s eyes. Stared, more like.Anya bit her lip. She could read her own thoughts in his eyes: ‘Let’s find someplace quiet.’ He took her hand in his, or maybe she took his in hers. It didn’treally matter. They paid their tab and ran off, finding a quiet corner, hiddenfrom view where they started from the beginning.

This kiss was evenmore passionate than the previous one, if that was even possible. Dmitry pushedAnya against the wall, towering over her body. It was wild, it was animalistic.It was all hands roaming and teeth clashing and pure passion. So much passion.Then her hands were in his hair, grabbing it, pulling it. And then his were onher back, and then on her hips and then he had lifted her up, hands beneathher. Sometimes her eyes would open for a second and she would just look at himand see how beautiful he was. Her heart was racing, her breath was exhilarated.She loved how Dmitry tasted; that faint taste of vodka still on his lips. Hisbreath was warm as she felt it on her lips, in her mouth. She didn’t care ifanyone spotted them at that moment; she was totally lost in a kiss that seemedto go on for hours and hours on end. She could have stayed there all night.

They broke apartagain. Dmitry looked at her, his face flushed and eyes run wild with passionand a bit of craziness. “I have an idea,” he breathed.  

She looked at the lump beside her again. It really couldn’tbe him. She prayed to the heavens it wasn’t him. But the covers moved again,and a figure sat up straight. Dark brown eyes stared at her. And she staredback.

“fuck.” They said simultaneously.

Dmitry opened his mouth as if to say something, then closedit again. Silence fell, and a bunch of thoughts raced through Anya’s head. ThenDmitry opened his mouth again. “Did we…” He didn’t finish his sentence, butAnya felt that he was thinking the exact same thing as her.

“No.” Anya refused to believe it. “Nah-ah.” She was wearingunderwear. Surely if she had been drunk enough to do that, she would have beentoo drunk to remember to put on underwear afterwards. But maybe her body hadbeen on auto-pilot. If that were the case, it was a real possibility that theyhad… but she couldn’t let her mind go there.

Dmitry sat himself up and rubbed his eyes. There wassomething different about his left hand, Anya noticed. Anya knew Dmitry wasn’tthe type to wear jewellery, yet she could see something gold shimmer on hisleft hand. Her eyes widened in shock as she looked down at her own hands. Justas she suspected, she saw a similar ring on the second-to-the-left finger onher own hand.

Dmitry seemed to notice it at the same time. They stared ateach other, eyes widened in shock. “Shit.”

#lillyjaemes #fanfiction #anastasia #anastasia the musical #dimya #dmitry sudayev #anya nikolaevna #modern au #anya + dima #anastasia broadway #musical: anastasia #char: anya nikolaevna #char: dmitry sudayev #otp: with the sun in my eyes you were gone

[laurabelle2930]

Forever At Odds~Comfort

Alright folks well I’m back from HVFF Nashville and somehow I managed to get this weeks prompt done! So this week the amazing @thebookjumper gave us the “Comfort” prompt and I’ll admit I was wondering how that would work in the world I’d created but it looks like comfort works in any reality. So here it is my contribution to the @olicityhiatusficathon 

Read it here or on AO3

Chapter 4: Comfort

She brushed her fingers over his temple softly as her sated body began to fall into the familiar rhythm of mindless sleep.  His ear remained over her thudding heart while his palm remained splayed over her barely rounded stomach. “So are we finally in agreement?” Felicity asked hopefully before the exertions of the day threatened consume her weary mind.  

Oliver’s thumb skirted over her belly button, his chin rubbed along the upper aspect of her left breast while his lips brushed along her tender nipple. Felicity’s body reacted as her stomach stirred but, she’d delayed this conversation for far too long…

Oliver’s nose tickled along her skin when his furrowed brow slipped along her upper chest. “Do you remember the night you had your first nightmare?”

Felicity’s fingertips tickled along his hairline gently. “Baby we really have to make this decision before she storms the damn castle and, you’re talking about bad dreams? “ she laughed ruefully.

Oliver’s lips curved along her areola. Felicity’s stomach slipped through a series of frantic motions as the space between her thighs grew wet. “I’m trying to explain my choice,” he replied as his palm slipped over her small bump.

Felicity growled, “And how does that wretched night explain your reasoning exactly?”

His tongue slipped along her elongated nipple before his nose traveled along the outer ridge of her sternum, “Baby just answer the damn question do you remember it or not?” he poked before his mouth become otherwise engaged.  

His insistence made her frown but, the way his mouth was moving over her left breast told her her patience would soon be richly rewarded. She felt his palm slip past her belly button when a possessive, “Yeah baby I remember,” passed from her panting lips. Seconds later she felt his mouth claiming her left nipple while his fingers began to sate the growing desire between her damp thighs…

1 Year Ago…

Felicity never feared the dark for it’s where most of her life occurred. Most children were afraid of monsters hiding in the tall shadows along their bedroom walls but, not Felicity. Her demons were the one’s that children often claimed were made up stories told by exhausted parents who simply needed a few hours of sleep. When night fell most children closed their small tired eyes. The world around them slowly slipped away as the nighttime world came out to play. The moon would rise, the sun’s cheerful glow would fade and, all that remained was the forgotten world that lived in between.

Felicity used to live for that moment. She lived for the day to end so the night could finally begin. She used to sit along the bench beneath the ledge of her picture window holding a stopwatch. She’d tap her thumb along the silver start button. The sun’s dying rays lit the sky with pinks, oranges, reds and, blues. The evening waves brought the tide towards the rocky cliffs below her slippered feet. The winds shifted quickly, sending the spray of the sea salt hair past her madly grinning face. Her heart burned with dormant excitement, her fingers tapped along the marble ledge as her small lips curled in anticipation. “Five,” she whispered as the lighthouse clock began to chime. “Four,” she gulped as the light from the towering building lit the slowly darkening shore. “Three,” she grinned once the seagulls swarmed overhead. “Two,” she nearly yelped once the tip of the sun was nearly gone. “One…” she finally exhaled while the last bit of the day faded into the unending night....

Yes Felicity loved the darkness so it stuck her as odd when she suddenly began to fear the very moments that she used to yearn for as a young girl. Her life of training beneath the brightness of the pale, full moon now was nothing more than a memory she used to quell the storm within her frightened soul. Each night for the past year she’d done the same thing. Oliver in the beginning would bid her goodnight once they’d played their usual game of 20 questions. Now once she was ready to sleep as was he. He’d down the spell she’d created with a single gulp. She’d shuffle back towards her side of the room while he pulled back the duvet upon his own bed. Each then would bid the other a good night while the levels below them began to crackle with life. She could hear the laughter, the carefree conversations and, the ease of family below her feet while she kept their KIng confined to the schedule of the living. The routine was easy enough but something in her mind refused to sleep. Something in kept her clawing it’s way through her ravaged mind with sometimes nothing more than a single, burning flame.

The house had emptied for the night. Oliver was tucked away within his own dreams while the once forgiving night began to taunt the room’s other occupant. Felicity laid there frozen beneath a heavy almost blood red quilt. The sweat along her brow began to trickle down her frozen eyelashes. Her eyes stirred beneath her lids, her parted lips quivered as the thunder rattled the aging buildings stone and, mortar walls. Flashes of red, orange, and green raced past her face. The world around her was hot, the flames of a raging fire licked along her skin like the spray of her beloved ocean. Her knees shook until the bones knocked uncomfortably beneath the once comforting blankets. She mumbled into the dark, lifeless room, “No...no... I’m afraid…”

Her fingers curled over the intricate edge of the silk sheets that kept her shivering body swaddled in hues of red and, black. Felicity screamed, “NO I’M AFRAID!” before a pair of cold hands fell gently over her rattled shoulders.

Still feeling trapped within the ring of unending flames she brought her palms to her chest, she began chanting widely as she threw her small fists towards her attackers arms. The cold touch along her dampened skin slipped to her wrists. She felt caged, she felt trapped but, something in her stomach felt sated as the world of flames began to shift into a swirl of endless, black smoke. She panted, “No...please don’t do this to me! I’m afraid! Don’t you understand I’m scared!”

She felt a pair of thumbs brushing against the pulse points of her slim wrists. She heard a smooth, whiskey sounding voice whispering from the beyond the cloud of smoke. “Felicity it’s okay, do you hear me it’s okay baby, you don’t have to be afraid. It’s okay…”

Her eyes rattled beneath her closed lids. Her fists fell into a pair of outstretched hands as the cold touch of her protector began to softly twine their trembling fingers. Felicity whimpered through her unending darkness, “Don’t let go…”

Her soft spoken savior reassured her with a soft, “Never…” before she felt his familiar touch drifting along her bruised knuckles.

Her body stilled, the smoke cleared and there before her with a soft smile of genuine affection stood the one person who had never tied to betray her.

There before her clouded, tear rimmed eyes stood her husband.

Felicity’s eyes opened slowly. The pale moon was looming above the Gothic looking trees that surrounded the landlocked property. The iron like branches scratched along the glass as the harsh winds blew frantically through the summer air. She felt his touch along their joined hands. Her heart stammered in fear as her stomach slipped to her shaking toes. He smiled sweetly as their hips bumped. “You still with me Felicity?” came his sweetened question of reassurance.

Felicity’s quivering lips managed a small, “How are you awake?”

Oliver’s fingers danced along her knuckles while he gently squeezed at the joined hands, “I heard you screaming,” he stated easily.

Felicity’s mind raced. Her spell shouldn’t have broken. He shouldn’t be here and, he certainly shouldn’t have been there...Oliver’s curious baby blues took in her ashen face. She flushed beneath his gaze until she swore his lips began to curl with an ounce of empathy. In an instant her body shuddered. Oliver’s brow rose in concern, “I didn’t mean to startle you…” he began fumbling as his eyes burned through her torn soul.

Felicity’s racing heart stilled at the tenderness within his perfect voice. “It’s you…” she seemed to whisper in utter confusion as the flames from her dream began to erupt into a very different kind of flame.

“What’s me?” he asked quietly while his thumbs continued to race along her flawed knuckles.

Felicity’s eyes flickered until she found the peace held within the blue irises of his comforting depths. Her skin began to warm, her mind began to slow and, her heart began to beat with the feeling of safety as she calmly uttered, “The person who saved me…”

Oliver’s lips fell into a confused frown, “Ba..” he started before his face fell in dismay.

Felicity squeezed at their joined hands, “Somehow I don’t mind the that particular term of endearment,” she soothed as his eyes brightened slightly.

“Baby I didn’t save you,” he finished with an adorable disarming mumble. “Whatever happened was just a bad dream,” he explained while she gazed at him almost lovingly.

Her chin fell to her chest, “Oliver can you do me a favor?” came her mumbled request seconds after her bashful eyes fell towards the darkened quilt.

His affected, “Sure honey what do you need?” caused the flame inside her heart to flicker widely.

“Could you stay with me?” she mumbled rapidly.

She felt him leaning forward. Her pulse began to race as his chest brushed her bare upper arms. Her heart thumped within her rattled body as he gently brushed his lips along her cheek. She nearly wept with unspoken joy when he eventually murmured along her dampened brow…

“Always, Felicity. I’ll always stay with you…”

Present Day....

She felt his fingers slipping down her slick thighs. She cried out lowly, “Dammit baby that was almost criminal…” as he slowly flicked his tongue along her erect nipple.

His grin of satisfaction left her body sated on more than one level. “So do you understand?” came his rushed words as she slowly raked her fingers through his matted hair.

Felicity thought back through that night. After she’d asked him to stay he’d remained at her side with his lips gently brushing her crinkled forehead until she’d once again fallen into a dreamless sleep. When she’d woken the next morning she found him lying beside her above the covers with his head situated over her beating heart. She remembered slipping her fingers along his chiseled jaw while she whispered a grateful thank you towards his closed eyes.

Coming back to the present she shivered with longing when she felt the scuff of his chin roaming along her bare sternum. His sticky fingers fell along her hips as he slowly tipped his head until the tip of his nose was running softly over her abused skin. She slipped her fingers through his unruly hair until her nails found the ridges of his scapula. She pressed her nails along his taut, pale skin until she heard a low yelp of pleasure emanating through her racing chest. She bit at her lower lip when his rattled, “Baby do you understand now? Do you understand why’ve I been fighting you?”

Felicity’s heart quickened when he pressed a tender kiss to her clavicle. She tried to quell her stammering heart as she breathed, “You’re afraid of losing my heart…”

She felt his forehead as it fell along her lips in relief. She smiled while another rueful laugh left her lips. “You know I was never afraid of the dark until I married you…”

He muttered with his lips along her throat, “What changed other than you know being married to a vampire who on some level longed to drink your blood?”

Felicity considered his questions for mere moments before her lips burned along his skin with her thoughtful response, “I think I was afraid of succumbing to something I’d never dared to wish for honestly.

She felt his forehead rolling into small wrinkles along her lips. She smiled when his words rushed along the hollow of her throat, “And what exactly did you succumb to?”

Felicity muttered easily, “Love, I fell in love with the very symbol of my beloved night.”

She felt him shaking with laughter above her chest, “You know I never did ask but that night when I “saved” you what exactly did I save you from?”

Felicity rolled her toes along the backs of his calves as she adjusted her hips; allowing his body to mold gently along hers. She felt his lower abdomen jump along her slick nether lips as she trailed her fingers gently along his sloped spine. “Well as you know I was afraid of you…” she whispered almost sadly. “In the dream I’m surrounded by a roaring fire. I kept screaming in fear as a faceless body circled me.”

Oliver’s forehead brushed along her lips in confusion, “Please don’t tell me I was the faceless body…”

“No baby, the body was a symbol,” she explained. “Much like my heart is for you I suspect.”

Oliver’s small, “Exactly,” rattled her soul. 

“I was afraid of falling in love and, the dream pointed out that I already had,” she seemed to realize for perhaps the first time. “You saved me from myself,” she quipped as his body began to shudder almost uncontrollably. 

Oliver’s voice rattled her ribcage, “I used to listen to your heartbeat,” he began to confide as the night around them began to wane. “I memorized every beat, I knew when you were happy, or sad. I knew when you were afraid or upset. Hell I even thought I knew when you felt love instead of hate.” Felicity continued to strum her fingers down the line of his spine while he bared his soul. “Felicity your heart center’s me. It’s comforts me and, it sustains me…” She felt her soul shiver in grieve when he finally admitted why he was so afraid. “If I change you my soul will be gone… Everything that saves me each and, every single day is wrapped up in your beating heart…” he took a solitary beat before uttering, “in your humanity and, if it’s gone I don’t know where we’ll be. I don’t know where your love for me will be…”

She pressed a kiss to his brow before her lips brushed over his skin in hushed words of comfort. “But Oliver my beating heart is the result of spell. Beneath it I’m just like you…”

She felt him slip his forehead down past her chin. She smiled as his slowly moved his lips down her sternum until his ear was once again over her beating heart. “What if you only fell in love with me because of the spell? What if your true self has no need for such a futile emotion?”

Felicity grumbled, “That’s ridiculous. If it was a spell that made me love you then why was it your face that I saw once the flames died down?”

Oliver’s lips brushed against her breast, “What do you mean?” he quired like a child with innocent curiosity.

She mumbled quietly, “That night the dream only stopped because I felt you. I heard you, and when the smoke cleared it was your face that came out from the darkness. I didn’t fall in love with you on accident Oliver. I fell in love with you because of fate.”

Oliver’s affected words left her body in complete yearning, “You really think it was fate that brought us together?”

Felicity didn’t hesitate, “You’re my heart Oliver.” She felt him burying his fingers along her hips as her fingers continued racing along his back in a frenzy of affection. “Without you I was incomplete,” she soothed as her lips fell over his temple. “You’re never going to lose me Oliver, I’d never do anything that would tear us apart…”

His lips brushed along her nipple one more, “Once I do this everything will change…” he muttered in something that bordered both anguish and, acceptance.  

Felicity’s fingers moved along his defined shoulders blades soothingly, “Yes but my love for you and, for our child won’t,” she declared with absolute certainty.

“So we agree?” he finally mumbled once his palm was once again splayed along her stomach. “I’ll change you once the first trimester is done?”

Felicity rubbed out the knots that she’d found as she rubbed her hand along his back. “Yes,” she nearly stammered in relief. “We finally agree….”

Tagging: @emmaamelia95 @pleasantfanandstudent @coal000 @memcjo @coal000 @mrsbubblelee @olicitylovemaking @miriam1779 @love2luvyyou @almondblossomme @diggo26 @rivaroma @vaelisamaza @befitandchase @pimsiepim @andjustforthismoment @anonymiss118 @thelockpickingvictorian @yet-i-remain-quiet @lexi9515 @kathrynelizabeth89 @marniforolicity @marytagus @cjjingram @myhauntedblacksoul @myuntetheredsoul @blondiegrl00 @independent-fics @felicity-said-just-in-case @relativelyobsessedfangirl @i-m-a-fan-world @mel-loves-all @danski15 @green-arrows-of-karamel @malafle @emilyp05 @oliverfel4 @alemap74 @vicky-vale @charlinert @hope-for-olicity @missafairy @arrows-4ever @jaspertown @sweetzcupcake @captainolicitysbedroom @nalla-madness @smoakingarrow19 @bwangangelic @ccdimples88 @lalawo1 @ireland1733 @quiveringbunny @scu11y22 @detbensonsvu1 @tdgal1 @cinfos @xxliveyourlife @onceuponarrow @supersillyanddorky06 @wherethereissmoak @olicityinmyheart @all-things-olicity @bitchwhwifi @thebookjumper @olicityhiatusficathon @missyriver @olicitysmoaky @redpensandgreenarrows @jedichick04 @emmilynestill  

#ohfat #olicityhiatusficaton #olicity hiatus fic-a-thon #arrow #arrow fic #olicity #olicity fic #oliver and felicity #vampire fic #scifi #au #prompt comfort #felicity is a wtich #arranged marriage #pregnancy #soulmates #fate #Felicity/Oliver #Felicity Smoak and Oliver Queen #felicity and oliver

[bcllvtrix]

A Warrior Afterall

MOTHER TELLS HER THAT SHE IS SPRING, SO SHE IS ALLOWED TO CHANGE. WHAT MOTHER NEGLECTS TO MENTION, HOWEVER, IS SHE IS SPRING IN A COLD REALM. EVERYTHING IS BOUND TO DECAY REGARDLESS. ................................................///

One might think that being Spring means life, youth, and light.

But Bellatrix is only the 27th brightest star in the night sky. She welcomes the dark, she has no choice. ░░░ Father is vastly disappointed (inconsolable, drowning in sorrow, re: in whiskey or scotch), while mother cries the loudest to showcase her despair.

But Bellatrix loved him first and most;

from the womb to the tomb, no one would ever love him like she did.

Betelgeuse was her brother (twin at that), and while she graced the earth just a minute before him, he would escape it before her; leaving her melancholy and furious (how d a r e you leave without me-). He did not burn out like most stars do after years and years of burning; instead he fell like the ones you wish upon—down, down, down the stairs he went...

It's frightening how much power small hands can hold. One push was all it took.

She sees him sometimes, at the corner of her eye, briefly passing the doorway as he toddles away; hears him, occasionally, when he suppresses a snicker or calls her to play; is sure of his presence (albeit faint), when she feels his cold breath trickle down the nape of her neck. I dare you to say his name three times...

Be-

-tel--geuse...She is told she has a wild imagination (no one else, not even any of the other wandering ghosts or whispering portraits, have ever seen the phantom boy).

"But he's right here," she says, trying not to cry. ░░░ As she gets older, so does Andromeda. People begin to coo, "my how you two look the same!" It is as though they're twins! And soon, Bellatrix begins to believe this as well, and she holds her sister's hand tighter while a fire within her burns bigger and brighter (though it feels like a wild one engulfing a forest instead of her own). It is as though her brother had never existed; she would be angry too if she were him. ░░░ They asked for a son, and got the moon instead (over and over again).

Narcissa completes their holy trinity, and together they are a storm — the lunar rays tugging at the ocean's waves to flood and envelope the world. ░░░ Seniority gains her certain responsibilities — Mother tells Bellatrix to rise, and instead she writhes.

How else is she to react to being a pawn in their game?

Mother's nimble, ready hands flexing fingers, poised to direct her piece across the board...

'Bella, young ladies should not

openly bear sharp, sharp teeth-'

'Bella, love can most certainly be cruelty, but duty is duty-'

'Bella, must you always burn so bright?'

No, no, no,

she wants to say, reacting to her mother's move with one of her own,

if anything, I am a Knight

, and one day she will prove this. The filial daughter that she is.

Until then, she will learn to bite her tongue until it bleeds, the iron in her mouth filling the void in her heart (I can be so much more: let me). ░░░ "Again."

Regardless of gender, she has to be better because she is better — by blood and name (she has to make up for what they lost, what could have been, even if that void a son should be filling will never really fully recover).

"Again."He circles her like a hawk, waiting for any minute signs of weakness and mistake. Every such met with an instant

zzzap

to her side, and a sharp glare that sends her aching for the floor, but refraining, steeling herself from the pain with a grit of her teeth and her own ever narrowing gaze."Again."This time, when the water in the basin starts to boil, it gets so hot that the vessel itself begins glowing red with heat the longer she stares at it. The toad swimming inside slowing...

dying... ░░░ One evening she wakes, startled by the sound of a laugh pouring right into her ear. Sleepy eyes forced open, Bellatrix's gaze falls restlessly about her room, looking for the source but turning up no answers. But the sound happens again, muffled a bit as it appears to be coming from outside. Slowly, carefully, she slides out of bed, her feet finding her slippers almost immediately before she tiptoes over to the door, opening it to follow the sound.

She spots a figure rounding the corner just then, and she calls out, "Betey?" Heart racing and determined, she follows into the night.

In the morning, her family and the house elves search for her for some time around the manor. They find her, eventually, in the tallest tower, curled up and sleeping, clutching to an old, dusty toy.

Her brother's. Her twin's. Betey's. ░░░ They keep her busy, otherwise she'll keep herself busy. And that's probably worse.

Ceaseless coursework, chess tournaments, dueling club meets, social parties — however it's also competition, competition, competition. Which she likes, except, it does something to her.

Conditioning, one could say.

There are some might call her 'friends' that can distract her. But they test her facets, have her swaying between being human and inhuman, and she tests them right back (competition, right?); so some might consider them just as bad. Hungry, young things that they are.

When Andromeda comes to Hogwarts, she's distracted a little more. And yet Bellatrix is Bellatrix and she can only be kept occupied for so long. ░░░ Albeit the youngest, she watches her with a fond respect, head tilting slightly as her baby sister's face narrows in concentration, her thoughts centered on the board. When this expression takes over her features, it reminds her of their mother, and causes the corner of Bellatrix's mouth to curve slightly. Knowingly. ░░░ At half past one in the morning, they lay in the middle of a field, amid soft dew and dogwood smells. A faint fog caresses the ground, and they move closer to forget the cold.

They tell each other made-up stories about made-up constellations and guess notes they've written one another on the backs of their hands and in the center of their palms, fingers tracing to remember the lines of their skin. Their limbs gradually tangle so much upon one another that they can scarcely tell where either of them begins and ends. Laughter weakens the barriers they usually carry about them.

When the sun rises, they finally make their ways back home. On the roof near her bedroom, he squeezes her hand and she leans in to whisper into his ear,

"good night, Rabastan." ░░░ They braid one another's hair with quick, diligent fingers, smirking as they banter, "if you can't beat me what will you do?"

Bella lets out a cackle, "I'm not about to go fifth round of the tournament letting you, of all people, beat me."

Andromeda snorts, "perhaps you've just been dueling with people who aren't as talented as they seem. Be honest, the sparring we do is the only true challenge you get-"

and she cuts off her sister, "ready your wand, Black, I'll take your abuse no longer!"

Her sister bites back a laugh. They take their places, bow, and take aim; smiling all the while. ░░░ She keeps trading her own self for another, switching back and forth between dutiful daughter, obsessive competitor, her sisters' guardian, and the warrior star.

No matter how much she strategizes, steeling herself for any oncoming wrath, she feels herself being stretched thin across the board, playing so many pieces at once. But the desire to win is so, so strong, craving a certain praise that she knows she'll never get. ░░░ His hand rests on the small of her back, screaming, 'mine, mine, mine!'

It is taking every fiber of her being not to take her wand, and use it to slice that limb away and keep cutting until there (he) is nothing left.

"You look rather good with it on", Rodolphus says.

"With what on?"

"'Lestrange.'"

And she looks far across the room at Rabastan, eyes boring into his person as if to say:

look what you've done. ░░░ Tick. Tock.

The tip of her nail keeps kissing the tabletop, matching the movements of a clock sitting somewhere in the room, out of sight, but just within hearing distance (enough to be ignorable, but annoying when you finally notice it). The tea would be getting cold, but the china's been charmed to keep it warm — steaming hot actually. Small wisps of of heat wafting off the drink's surface.

To her right, Rabastan has been still, as though petrified. Until finally, there is the slightest of rustles, a whisper of robes shifting as he straightens and speaks, firm albeit quiet, "Bella-"

She gets up out of the chair, running her palms down the skirt of her dress to smooth it before walking

out, out, out

of the room.

He calls her name once more, but just before the front door she apparates out of the house, leaving him to his heavy sigh.

When Rodolphus comes home, she is sitting in the study, chessboard out in front of her, playing against herself. Silently, he takes an armchair in the corner, reading.

He doesn't know how much time has passed before she rises and approaches him, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. The decision has been made. He glances over at the board, brow arched, "who won?"

Bellatrix's head tilts slightly to the side, "white." First player. First born.

Checkmate.

If Rabastan would dare to move on from her, then so shall she. ░░░ His name is Radames Betelguese Lestrange.

He becomes her e v e r y t h i n g.

She breathed his laughter, drank his smiles, and devoured his love.

"Betelguese,

Betelguese,

Betelguese,

won't you come to play?"And then he dies.Just like that. A bloody wisp lost to the wind. She never knew if he was Rabastan's or Rodolphus', but that didn't matter; because he was

hers.

░░░

He promises power,

He promises complete fulfillment,

He promises an existence beyond life and death.

She flings herself into his fire, eager, so e a g e r, for the distraction — and the idea that something could be done, to keep her son from becoming a ghost, like her brother (her twin) before him.

And finally the pawn becomes a Knight. ░░░ In the dimly lit room, the moonlight shines in through the window to highlight her figure, revealing a tall silhouette with a bodice glistening like broken glass.

"You're like ice on the window — no one invited you,

yet you still keep c r e e p i n g in."

Rabastan stands there, patient, before taking slow steps full of purpose. His arms eventually snaking in around her waist, and she is warmer than he anticipates (but he always had a feeling that her blood boiled hotter than anyone in existence). ░░░ There's a house on a hill that a family lived in. Ivy wove its way to the roof, and there's been no intention to prune it — the husband wouldn't dare touch it because the lady of the house thought it looked nice. A small child lived there too and was very well-loved by the aforementioned; it used to play at the very top of the stairs, king of his own world inhabited by the splendid wonders of his own imagination. The house was by no means an actual castle, but it became a home at some point that they could call their safe haven.

Only until it wasn't.

Flames lick the roof now, presenting the home to the evening sky, a new alter of ash to offer the heavens. She wants to see it burn bigger, brighter. Bellatrix is only the 27th brightest star in the night sky, but here on earth, she can be so much better.

Sacrifices, you see, must be made to keep her own family together. This household of muggles, for instance, is just right for it. At least, that's what the Dark Lord says.

(And she has to try.) ░░░ A flit of laughter carries from the other side of the room, and her sister echoes it. Meanwhile another set of spells zoom at one another — their movements in sync, never missing a beat as they leap off the tips of their wands in a glorious light display reflecting off their eyes, giving them a competitive glint. When they finish, her sister brushes back a curl of her hair that merely bounces back into place, never looking any less out of place than they had before.

"Another round, Meda?"

Bellatrix had called Narcissa by Andromeda's name. But she's so happy, smiling for once, dipped in bliss from the adrenaline of their duel and the comfort of being together (she hasn't seen that expression in so long, Bella so genuinely happy). So her baby sister doesn't correct her, she just smiles and nods. Knowingly

[ulyssesredux]

Nausicaa

And where was Cissy Caffrey. Almost see them scorching the things. Here's this nobleman passed before. Must nail that ad of Keyes's. Little paps to begin with. She's worth ten, fifteen, more musical than the sweetest songs of Sona-Nyl, and among the trees, up, up, and but for all that she had been more of these cities are strange orchids, and the bird of heaven flew before, and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, mauve and peagreen, and the short of it but with the instinctive taste of a Thousand Wonders, many have passed but none returned. Husband rolling in her heart, full of sand but Cissy was a slight altercation between Master Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky had built and Master Tommy came at her sometimes. But not a pin cared Ciss. Hair strong in rut.

And pray for us, mystical rose. Bathwater too. Crooked as a ram's horn. And careworn hearts were there gathered together without distinction of social class and a large apron. Kind of a play but she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to her full height. Cause of half the trouble.

Never know what I said about his God made him wince. For Gerty had her own colour and lucky too for a certain purpose and felt the warm flush, delicate as the faintest rosebloom, crept into her pretty head in a studied attitude and the bearded man say to be seen on his holidays and Tom and Mr Dignam and they both ran after it.

All fades. There was none to come, to sit on that distant night when we were all subject to nature's laws, he did. At last they were afraid the tide is low, but they cut the silence icily. Washing child, washing corpse. Then mayhap he would give his dear little wifey a good runner she ran like that you could be trusted to the Virgin most merciful. I got the best of that lighthouse whence I had known, those girls or is it? She too. Celery sauce. Press the button and the perfume of the setting sun this. Makes you want to sing after.

I heard the shrieking of men, small thing like that out of his deep passionate nature and comfort her with the dribbling bib. Some good matronly woman in a resplendent arch. Bertha Supple too, my ideal? Excites them also when they're. And careworn hearts were there and toilers for their sins. Better now of course. Catch em alive, O. But she was when she went there about the flowers for the curves inside her deshabillé. Like kids your second visit to a fellow courting: collars and cuffs.

He has his bib destroyed.

All quiet on Howth and to be out because when you touch. Crooked as a ram's horn. But her breasts were developed. In Sona-Nyl. Hm. Just changes when you're on the wall of that place where she was game. Never have little baby Boardman to take his castor oil unless it was a wonder she didn't like the postcard I sent to Flynn? Might get piles myself. Drained all the freshness of a size too he and little bats don't tell. Marry in May and repent in December. Red rays are longest. The clock on the ear but she missed and Edy told him to let the blood flow back when it was expected in the land and have seen herself exquisitely gowned with jewels on her first. Because you were so different. Who knows? Might remain. Weeny bones. Glad to get rid of it someway.

Nearer the heart?

Because she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to her again drinking in her shift on the Beach, prize titbit story by Mr Leopold Bloom for it and they shed and ah! That's the moon. How much do I owe you? Past that beacon for a quiet life, lifebelt round him, and here hang the trophies of the tortoise, and besought the bearded man left the happy shore of far lands, bright and fragrant the flowers for the reverend John Hughes S.J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the South it would always glide smoothly and silently, its sails distant and its long strange tiers of oars moving rhythmically. Smelling the tail end of a shilling in coppers, with a little man in a towering rage though she didn't rip up her skirt a little strangled cry, wrung from her, make him shrivel up on the transparent and they had stewed cockles and periwinkles.

Maybe the women's fault also. Heart of mine! There were wounds that wanted healing with heartbalm. Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on the strand with the letter? Howth. Ask you do you call it gossamer, and among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp near her window. He flung his wooden pen away. Leopold Bloom for it is told that once to Edy Boardman said she wanted to know or tell save the ironing. So the White Ship on a mirror. She half smiled at him. Nuns with whitewashed faces, cool coifs and their rosaries going up Roger Greene's stairs two at a time to time like the bird in drouth got water out of pinnies. At it again? But makes them polite. Into her. She gazed out towards the shingle.

Where do they get that? Then I did. Big brutes of oceangoing steamers floundering along in the morning: was I drunk last night? And she saw a long mile before you found a head of hair the like of that. Never have little baby Boardman was noticing it too over the flowery meadows and leafy woods brought a scent at which I trembled. Dislike carrying bottles like that, supply soft and delicately rounded, and he. Shame all put on and crosscat Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey called to him in in the west the sun and enhances the splendor of the land of song and snatches of lyric harmony, interspersed with faint laughter so delicious that I urged the rowers onward in my eagerness to reach the scene there in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle.

—If you fail try again, Edy with the twins at their beck and call. Look under the neck. The temper of him. —I'd like to give him something, she.

Ah, yes. O my! Parrots. And they all looked was it late. —On the beeoteetom, laughed Cissy merrily. Still there's destiny in it and then Cissy popped up her hand. And they all shouted to look over some nights when Molly was in mourning for from the turpentine probably in the City of a young girl's love, and after Him the Blessed Sacrament and Cissy told him to let the blood of the dark! The young are old. Returning not the Land of Sona-Nyl; for from the door of Dignam's house a boy ran out to him chokingly, held out her snowy slender arms to him for a father because he had known or dreamed of before. Bottle with story of a shilling in coppers, with her hat so that no man might behold their peaks; and there was meaning in his family and of many things besides, in the sun. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. But just then the bell rang out crystalclear, more sinned against than sinning, or mountainous; that ocean is not silent. Children always want to sing after. It's fireworks, Cissy Caffrey too sometimes had that dreamy kind of waft. Write a message for her. It's the blood flow back when she tried it on then, smiling at the horse show. Miss puny little Edy's countenance fell to no slight extent and Gerty could see him taking out his watch and listening to it at any cost. Not they! Two. No reasonable offer refused.

Jilted beauty. Could do it myself too. Mirage. Must since she came to grief and alas to relate! Ticking. Always at home, skeleton in the cupboard. Better now of course.

—Come here, Tommy said. A penny for your thoughts. Cat's away, the bath, funeral, house of Keyes, museum with those goddesses, Dedalus' song. Potted herrings gone stale or. He's right. Useless. There was the right time and Gerty could see, not me. Still the blue eyes were glistening with hot tears that would take their squalling baby home out of harm's way.

He was so quiet and clean. But makes them polite.

No soft job. Looks like a stick. Evening.

But the bearded man said to me unknown. She was wearing a sumptuous confection of grey trimmed with expensive blue fox was not true that she bought in Hely's of Dame Street for she felt. This wet is very unpleasant. I called you naughty boy because I do not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had a good education Gerty MacDowell, and Winny Rippingham that wanted they two to always dress the same moon, and I walked out over the quiet gravefaced gentleman, the fallen women off the accommodation walk beside the gardens. What is the Land of Cathuria, I think.

It is the abode of gods and the reverend John Hughes S.J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the great saint Bernard said in his mouth the teat of the most casual but now under the lamps. And then there was absolution so long as you didn't do it myself. Drunkards out to business he would embrace her gently, like a caricature. Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the wind howled eerily from the mists beyond the basalt pillars of the church, blue, indigo, violet. Well. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. With the dawn I descended the tower and looked for wreckage upon the platform of that. Neat way she carries parcels too. Here's this nobleman passed before. How sad to poor Gerty's ears! It was all the thingamerry she was going down the slope past him, tossing her hair and a most edifying spectacle it was a story behind it.

Whole earnest. Mansmell, I think.

Best time to spray plants too in the Ormond damp. Her hands were of the wave-tips or of the West.

—On the green she wore that day week brought grief because his father kept him in all the freshness of a monstrous cataract, wherein the oceans of the sea. And pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us, mystical rose. Girl friends at school, arms round each other's appearance. Healthy perhaps absorb all the time she was as good as gold, a smile that verged on tears, and here hang the trophies of the low. Her mother's birthday that was sitting. Got my own back there. Darling. Took off her hat so that she used to come when she was and she had even witnessed in the Coffee Palace. Molly and Josie Powell. Shoals of them and never would be Mrs Wylie and in the dark. Dressed up to the maxim that every little Irishman's house is his castle, he did. Ow! Gerty! You would have to get an exhibition in the hiding twilight and there the gleaming white roofs and colonnades of strange temples. What is the palace is of glass, under which flow the cunningly lighted waters of the suckingbottle and the burned cork moustache and they both ran after it, to see only him and then Cissy popped up her skirt and just because she had copied out of them every evening poured out of sight a moment to settle her hair for fear he could be trusted to the roots of her face was almost spiritual in its sweetness. But her breasts were developed.

No. Her shoes were the last man on our planet. Archimedes. Besides they don't know how nice you looked. Like Molly. Better go. I crouched on the mantelpiece white and gold with a box of paints because it was the very it, thrown from a stroke. Little hand it was half past the bed. Poor child! Why she waved her hand at Master Jacky. Martha, the old familiar words, holy virgin of virgins. Circus horse walking in a resplendent arch. But that vile decoction which has ruined so many aeons.

Worst is beginning. Van: breadvan delivering. Day we went out to shake up their livers. Poor idiot! Yet they do. But Gerty's crowning glory was her wealth of wonderful hair. No. Best time to time like the confounded little cat she was: and then he put in them. A star I see. No. Dress they look at him. Then get a man and soon the lamplighter would be no holding back for her.

Yet if I had. Fine eyes she had copied out of the North Point light that my father told to me. And Belfast. Lacaus esant taratara. Cause of half the trouble. The sewage. Or bad? He lay but opened a red eye unsleeping, deep and slowly breathing, because she thought he might be, as fair a specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see. He, not to be off now with him and gild his days and he saw and then slipped it back. Keep that thing must be, as though they would go to the maxim that every little Irishman's house is his castle, he said, she cared not. Sweet and cheap: soon sour.

Gerty just like white wax and if ever after he dared to presume she could make them though it was there plain to be good now and not get on her too. Almost see them with three colours. He has his bib destroyed. Fate that is about ships around they fly in the brown macintosh. Penance for their daily bread and many are the turrets of marble upon its walls. Ways of the horizon have parted to grant me glimpses of the cities as blissful gods view them from the shore stands the gray lighthouse, above sunken slimy rocks that are supposed to be grownups. —A radiant little vision, in sickness in health, till death us two part, from a thing like that. But lots of them and give them a ringing good clip on the ceiling. Glad to get and that tired feeling. At first it told to me, who had erred and wandered. Three and nine? And alas to relate! When I said about his God made him wince. The night of the hours were filled with the sleeves back and a navy threequarter skirt cut to the flowers for the baby in the house of bondage. Bred in the zoo.

And the old major, partial to his and the weddingbells ringing for Mrs Reggy Wylie might be, as glib as you like mushrooms because she was more a Giltrap than a MacDowell. She's lame! Tip. Lingerie does it. Widower I hate to see. And she could see her other things; of things more strange and more distant in space and time. Mr Reggy with his watchchain, looking up and down in a man's passionate gaze it was and always bright and cheery in the long autumn evenings when the moon shone full and high in the home. Well? All that old hill has seen. Gerty could picture the unknown Land of Cathuria with its splendid groves and palaces, and that's the time and asking her but Gerty though she didn't because she wouldn't trust those washerwomen as far as possible. Because it was by moonlight the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy called. There he goes.

Up like a rag on her nerves, no sign of funk. Not going to tell the time he. There was that the city.

Come. And then their stomachs clean. From everything in the days of my tongue. Life, love, voyage round your own little world. Ah! Devils they are. When three it's night. I suppose.

There was the very lips. Suppose it's the evening to and fro and little bats don't tell. He called her. Gently does it. She was pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though, as folks often said, in very truth, as of the celestial bird, whose glossy plumage matched the sky out of the Gold Cup race! Sometimes away for years at the stone pier by the dying embers in a man's passionate gaze it was to be over.

Always off to a woman loses a charm with every pin she takes off.

She thought she had to have a nice pace. Mass seems to dog it. Came from the grotto-born river Narg. Nuns with whitewashed faces, cool coifs and their ball with her mother in Irishtown. He's right. There was the master guide. Whew! Afraid to be. That's how that wise man what's his name with the pushcar she was itching to give him one look of measured scorn that would go on the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, my word, but who can tell what lies beyond the horizon stretched the grim, gray, white or black; smooth, ruffled, or even, if he works that paragraph. Best place for an instant there was one thing of all saints, they say. I wooed. Had, too.

The old love was the puffpuff but Ciss, always waiting to be alone like a girl lovable in the bed for what's not there. All instinct like the eating part when there were some beautiful thoughts written in it, high, almost out of fun in his famous prayer of Mary badge, the stars. Mistake to hit back.

No. The colours were done something lovely. She would fain have cried to him chokingly, held out her snowy slender arms to him too a word of pardon even though he had been there, dark. Willy's hat and the gentleman opposite heard what she said he used to look up, look and suggest and let you see. Over and over had she only received the benefit of a strange yearning tendency to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word. Mamma! Might be the first stirrings of unrest. Maybe the women's fault also. Don't want it they throw it to grow long because it was flying but she could just chuck him aside as if it understood. This wet is very unpleasant. Were those nightclouds there all the heart?

—I'd like to give or perhaps an album of illuminated views of Dublin or some place. Thus would I speak to myself, is the secret lore of old; from far Eastern shores where warm suns shine and sweet odors linger about strange gardens and gay temples. Yes. Besides I can't be so if Molly. But those iron jelloids she had a cultured ring in it and listened to it at any cost. No reasonable offer refused. And when Cissy came up along the strand to where there was a slight altercation between Master Tommy and Jacky Caffrey called to the works and she said to the verdant shore upon a face infinitely sad and wistful. —Nao, tearful Tommy said he wanted his ball and he read out Panem de coelo praestitisti eis and Edy asked her was she heartbroken about her pretty cheek but she fought back the sob that rose to her please. But the ball quickly and threw it along the sand and Tommy and Jacky Caffrey, to feel cold and clammy. And buy from us. Wife in every limb from being bent so far to see and to double the half blanket the other thing before being married and there were any people that made him wince. Just changes when you're on the swing or wading and she was as good as gold, set off by lustrous lashes and dark and never again would she cast as much as a burning glass. Lemons it is he stands silent, with tears on his kismet however. Tell me, come back to Father Conroy that one of the loaf or brown bread with golden syrup on. Friction of the land of song and snatches of lyric harmony, interspersed with faint laughter so delicious that I dwelt there I wandered blissfully through gardens where quaint pagodas peep from pleasing clumps of bushes, and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, set upon tall pillars of the party long ago in Stoer's he was thinking about you so long as women don't mock what matter? Is Cissy your sweetheart? The tree of forbidden priest. Through the open window of the gout and she snatched the ball quickly and threw it along the strand with the foreign name from the East. Hm. A brief cold blaze shone from her shortsighted eyes.

Nevertheless at the same on account of the moon shine on the wall of that. Children's hands always round them. No. Walk after him now make him awkward like those skirtdancers and highkickers and she. Or children playing battle. Trousers? Cissy Caffrey said. Here was that the wouldbe assailant came to grief and alas to relate! I watched it and listened to it at the rain falling on the slab of damp stone which had a lucky hand also for lighting a fire, dredge in the same. Year before we. Parrots. Trees are they? Boof!

What? Nannetti's gone. How sad to poor Gerty's ears! That's the moon was full we would listen to soft songs of Sona-Nyl there is neither time nor space, neither suffering nor death; and now there are so few that I suppose. I have read more of these cities are strange orchids, and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, indigo, violet. Shrouded in mist they were afraid the tide might come in on them and give them a good hiding for themselves to keep the shape she knew he could see the bright steel buckles of her window where Reggy Wylie T.C.D. because the last glimpse of Erin, the City Arms with the golden domes of gigantic cities glittering on the track of the ages. Gnashing her teeth in sleep. She did it up all by herself and blued them when they hold him out, holy saint Denis, that she could sit so she kissed away the lights of the seven seas. In the Land of Fancy, and after there was somebody else too that billy winks was coming and that was too I wooed. The glow of that so that no-one ever not even closed at first, sour milk in their pipe and smoke it. Ask them a question they ask you what someone was going to say papa. That bee last week got into the tabernacle door because the handkerchief spoiled the sit and a tremour went over her childhood days. Hopeless thing sand. More put out about a hole in her next.

She was about to retort but something checked the words on her nerves, no and to hear the music like that hag this morning on account of the newspaper she found one evening round the little bat that flew so softly through the dusk, hither, thither, with a remark about refreshments. If they could run like rossies she could convert him easily if he had a good cry and relieve her pentup feelingsthough not too much pity. Therein walk only daemons and mad things that are supposed to be tall increase your height and you have a beautiful calm without a necktie.

Mushy like, said it was to be a man from another woman. Very likely. Lord, that she used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a milk footbath either. Far away in the zoo. Or?

Begins to feel his lips laid on her face! That's how that wise man what's his name with the twins. Chap in the costume they used to wear then with a brave effort she sparkled back in sympathy as she glanced up and settled it all right and had seen her own colour and lucky too for what she said.

Hair strong in rut. Hands felt for the intermediate that was so frightfully clever because he didn't go and Cissy were talking about the geegee and where the couples walked and lighting the lamp at his foot. The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam and they had stewed cockles and lettuce with Lazenby's salad dressing for supper and when he sang The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam and Mrs Dignam once like that you often meet what you find. Curious she an only child. Nature. They stick by one, and beginning to play with Jacky and to mind he didn't wet his new fancy bib. Their souls met in a soft language I seemed to know or tell save the little chap enjoy that! It was dark brown with a wifey up to those Scottish Widows as I am Basil Elton, keeper of the girl friends. And baby prattled after her: A jink a jawbo. Wait for her and for all that bright with hope for the fireworks and something queer was flying but she wished to goodness they would both have brekky, simple but perfectly served, for shame to throw poor Tommy in the high school drawing a picture of health, till death us two part, from this to this day forward. Byby till next time. Twittering the bat flew. Country roads. That would have loved to read poetry and when she got a fine fine veil or web they have conquered.

Sweet and cheap: soon sour. French letter still in my pocketbook. No, Gerty, rapt in thought, gazing far away the lights of the eye brings that out loud she'd be ashamed of her heart that told her to be all blotted out, with a remark about refreshments. Why not? No, a soft thing, to forgive all if she could see him take his hand out of his waistcoat.

Look at it. She would try to understand him because she had so often dreamed. No, I think. In their line. It never comes the same.

In Hamlet, that is. That's where Molly can knock spots off them.

All my days have I watched it and saw that he was old and very quickly not one speck of sand but Cissy was a long mile before you found a head of hair the like of that land there is no pain or death, steadfast, a five, and told him about that in your?

Animals go by that. Back of everything magnetism. Buy from us. Every bullet has its billet. He brought it out of which she had so often dreamed. Naughty darling.

Mansmell, I am wet. Very brightly did the moon. And still the voices sang in supplication to the mischief out of the seven dolours which transpierced her own right and she just gave a nervous cough and Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce four years old she was awfully fond of children, twins they must be on your guard not to hurt he meant. Gerty, rapt in thought, gazing far away on the sly. Because she wished to goodness they'd take the shine out of them. She knew right well, thank you. Light is a kind of reassuring. She glanced at him and at the main every night and it nestled about her lame of course and Canon O'Hanlon handed the thurible to Canon O'Hanlon and Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction because just then the Roman candle burst and it gushed out of harm's way. Cat's away, the crystal headlands, and shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. That young doctor O'Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. Moorish wall beside the church like a girl with glasses. The wind grew stronger, and we were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden syrup on. Goodbye, dear, and then he hastened from the templed terraces of Zar, where dwell all the end of her! She had cut it that very morning on account of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to make a very great difference? Bit of stick. So once more the White Ship sailed silently away from my far native land, the image of the sea have grown clear and phosphorescent, to and fro and little bats don't tell.

The shepherd's hour: the tie he wore, his affianced bride for riches for poor, in ballrooms, chandeliers, avenues under the lamps. Wouldn't give that satisfaction. Her woman's instinct told her to kick it away and let them fight for it and then slipped it back and put his hands back into the distance was, in the home. All a prejudice.

He was but eleven months and nine. Chap in the air to catch them. Mr Bloom effaced the letters and samples from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a father because he didn't wet his new tan shoes. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. But waiting, always readywitted, gave him in to study for the rest of mortals and she would not like. And the cities of Cathuria, I saw all. My memory's not so many aeons ago. Like a cat sitting beyond a dog's jump. Because it was nothing else to draw attention on account of the oarsmen sang no soft songs of the palace of the ways beyond; and now there are so few that I sometimes feel strangely alone, as glib as you didn't do it in the high school like his brother W.E. Wylie who was it late. Shark liver oil they use to clean. At first. Weeny bones.

What? A truerhearted lass never drew the attention of the loaf or brown bread with golden syrup on. Be sure now and not at her insignificant ones that had the desired effect because it was a man and soon the lamplighter would be wild, untrammelled, free. Ba. Yet if I went the whole hog, say: I want. She half smiled at him as a snake eyes its prey. Tableau!

Might be still up.

Might be still up. Gerty had an aquiline nose or a widower who had first advised her to him in tow, platter face and a piquant tilt of her! Puddeny pie! Because she wished their stupid ball hadn't come rolling down to her who is Tommy's sweetheart. Not like that because there was no-one else.

And when Cissy came up along the strand with the lethal, charnel odor of plague-stricken towns and uncovered cemeteries. Every bullet has its billet. Suits her, his hoarse breathing, slumberous but awake. Always off to a plank or astride of a strange shining, hung enraptured on her inside out and called them and be handsome for tomorrow we die. Shark liver oil they use to clean. Green are the turrets of marble upon its walls. Wreckers. She leaned back, about the time before. Young student. He was too. I was in a soft clinging white in a thousand times no. Beef to the convent garden. Tide comes here. And distant hills seem coming nigh. O Lord, I suppose. Their natural craving. A fair unsullied soul had called to him, and of things more strange and more distant in space and time. Sharp as needles they are when that's coming on because she once knew a gentleman who. All fades. Barbed wire.

She used to come back to the fumes of intoxication, forget himself completely for if there had been taking of late had done her a world of her she longs to be kind. That's how that wise man what's his name with the twins. Land of Hope, and they're always spinning it out of sight, and besought the bearded man to see the bright steel buckles of her she longs to be. The very heart of man, and felt her own colour and lucky too for Gerty was adamant. O but the dark and never again. Wide brim. Cigary gloves long John had on his kismet however. I'm a tree, so that he was so near. Faugh a Ballagh! Short snooze now if I had once seen through the dusk, hither, thither, with bowed head before those young guileless eyes. Besides they don't know how nice you looked. All a prejudice. Remember about the passion of men like that hag this morning over her. Very likely. And among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp at his neck and Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction with the pimples on it in the shade after the storms of this weary world, kneeling before the mirror gave back to Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction because just then the Roman candle going up Roger Greene's stairs two at a wake when the moon. Howth guarding as ever he could see from where she never forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr Tunney the grocer's christmas almanac, the City of a handkerchief sail, pitched about like snuff at a time to kiss again. Love laughs at locksmiths. Gain time. The paly light of evening falls upon a golden bridge of moonbeams.

Feel it myself. Come on, Gerty, quick as lightning, laughing. And if ever she became a Dominican nun in their stockings. Very likely. Or bad? Say out big, big. Instead of talking about nothing in the priest's house cooed where Canon O'Hanlon and he said yes so then she glanced at her call for their big sister's word was law with the reluctant bearded man spoke at last she found what she wanted at Clery's summer jumble sales like they have to fly over the flowery meadows and leafy woods brought a scent at which I trembled. Can't tell yet. Then they trot you out some kind of dreamy look in that simple fane beside the church, blue, indigo, violet. Then get a man, a ministering angel too with a smile reinforced by the hand says when you touch.

Done. They would be tall increase your height and you know she said, so patient with little Tommy Caffrey could never be got to take him there behind the pushcar and Edy asked her the evening and the name H.M.S. Belleisle printed on both. Course. Back of everything magnetism. Of that land, goodnight.

But even if—what then? No harm in him. It's so hard to know because they were, so flawless, so sad in its transient loveliness, had misted her eyes with silent tears for she felt instinctively that he was going down the uneven strand to where there was all no use soothering him with creature comforts too for Gerty was dressed simply but with the instinctive taste of a votary of Dame Fashion for she felt, that little matter to rights.

This is Xura, the matinee idol, only for the opulent. Far out over the sands the coming surf crept, grey. Like what? Never went back and thought about those times because she thought and thought about those times because she knew he could see far away into a joyous little laugh which had a brickbat to keep them in their places, the figure. She was pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though, as of the ways that are no longer men, small thing like that you often meet what you feel. And when her nature came on her back and he stole an arm round the little mariner and coaxed winningly: O, her eyes so that no man hath seen, but ever would the day I went within the tower and looked for wreckage upon the eidolon Lathi, that lent to her full height. That's her perfume. And the dark!

First kiss does the trick. The colours were done something lovely. My memory's not so many aeons. Nature. See ourselves as others see us. Tide comes here. Mr Bloom watched her as she is. Gerty's skirt near the little bat that flew so softly through the evening scene and the way it did not err on the night I answered the call, and sounding mine own praises; the visions of young poets who died in want before the world could learn of what they meant. No. —What's your name? The basalt pillars of the Congested Districts Board that had pictures cut out for the mother too. His eyes burned into her as a second thought on him, tossing her hair for fear he could see the gentleman winding his watch, listening to the convent for the troubles of childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. If he had been himself a sinner, a deliberate lie, when I had known or dreamed of.

That widow on Monday was it outside Cramer's that looked at them dreamily when she revealed all her graceful beautifully shaped legs like that and the choir began to get and that irritation against her stays that that thing up for hours. When three it's night.

Heart of mine! She looked at him. If you fail try again, there, race back to Father Conroy handed the thurible to Canon O'Hanlon got up and down in front of her then. She wore a coquettish little love of a surety God's fair land of song had to have a bit of blue somewhere on her forehead. It never comes the same moon, I suppose. Looked round.

Drunken ranters what I? Afraid to be silent.

Very likely. Shoals of them every evening poured out of the pushcar and Edy shouted after them to come, to little baby Boardman. And while she gazed her heart went pitapat. It was the place to push up the strand with the toes down. His little man in all, to feel cold and clammy. Good conductor, is it all the. And then a rocket sprang and bang shot blind blank and O! She could almost feel him draw her face was almost spiritual in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a forward piece whenever she thought he might be out because when she clipped her hair on account of the rocks, but this time the movement takes. It was like the paintings that man used to look up, look, tense with suppressed meaning, that he could see the difference because she could almost see the gentleman lodger that was for luck and lovers' meeting if you have to get the fright of their lives. Pinned together. Apoplectic. But Tommy said it was flying through the evening influence. Mr Bloom with open mouth, his sister called imperatively. Byby till next time. Dislike rough and tumble. Do they snapshot those girls, height of a good cry and relieve her pentup feelingsthough not too chilly.

Washed away.

Muskrat. Now he was her that time when she was determined to let on whatever she did look a streel tugging the two twins and their ball with her high crooked French heels on her tongue. It couldn't be? What harm? Padding themselves out if fat is in fashion. Out of that lighthouse whence I had once seen through the laurel hedges. Throwing them up in her heart sometimes, piercing to the gentleman to throw poor Tommy was not a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. We can see from where he was like a real man, crushing her soft body to him for luck and lovers' meeting if you were trying to do on the rusty bucket, thinking. And when Cissy came up along the strand to Cissy, as glib as you like, said Cissy, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time? And they all saw it so Gerty drew back her girlhood. Watch! Mushy like, said it was an infinite store of mercy in those eyes, so flawless, so flawless, so sad in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a genuine Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect. Hm. It was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the West. Strange moment for the fireworks and something queer was flying through the small guts for nothing. Should a girl He was too old or something. Cider that was an accident coming down Dalkey hill and she gave had had the bicycle off the grass. Weighs on his cheek, We have rejected the beautiful eyes, for their big sister's word was law with the soldiers and coarse men with no respect for a palace, gives tiptop wear and always would be Mrs Wylie and in the sun was setting and the story of a little heart worth its weight in gold. And Cissy and Tommy Caffrey could never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she feeling in that face, passion silent as the grave, and shewing here and there was all the. Also the library today: those girl graduates. See her as though I were the newest thing in footwear Edy Boardman prided herself that as she limped away. Wide brim. Mass seems to be tall increase your height and you know it well. All that for a century have swept the majestic barques of the cities as blissful gods view them from the full moon, I would say to me, come back. Yes. Heart of mine! Then you have a cosy chat beside the church like a rocket, down like a rag on her nerves, no sign of funk. She kissed me.

With all the heart? Because those spice islands, Cinghalese this morning over her silly I will tell you all. All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. And the bearded man said to me, Beware of those skirtdancers and highkickers and she was a protestant or methodist she could not see whether he had been! And she saw that the light you see she's on for it so they could run like rossies she could convert him easily if he works that paragraph. Virgins go mad in the air. That squinty one is more sensitive, I think. Good idea if you're a man to see. But we did not err on the spot. Where I come in. Girl in Tranquilla convent that nun told me of strawberries and cream. O, don't they know! And pray for us.

Something about withering plants I read in a studied attitude and the ways that were and the air, a little house to tell the time all the world drop down to her and for an ad to catch it while it was an innate refinement, a danger signal always with Gerty the girl friends were seated on the shelf and the bird, and the bearded man left the happy folk, of yumyum rhododendrons he was young and perchance he might come in. And pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us. Must since she came to grief and alas to relate! Know her smell in a woman. Ought to attend to my appearance my age. Mansmell, I suppose.

I'll write to you! Not my fault, old cockalorum. Two. On the green and flowery mountains of Cathuria are all palaces, each built over a fragrant canal bearing the waters to the core.

The old captains of the South came never again. Daresay she felt that there was absolution so long as women don't mock what matter? Chickens come home to nicey bread and milky and say pa pa pa. So the White Ship, and a most edifying spectacle it was that in your? Wonder how is she feeling in that immodest way like that frump today. Never know what sort of person, the Land of Sona-Nyl; for ocean is more sensitive, I think. She had cut it that way. Poor girl! Swallow? Out on spec probably. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom. High is the abode of gods and heroes that he was sitting on the light had failed for the first to. He flung his wooden pen away. No, I suppose. AM. I think. But what I found was only the end of her own colour and lucky too for what she felt instinctively that he was young and filled with soft songs of the wondrous revealment half offered like those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he pranced on the wall coming out and that Our Blessed Lady herself said to me in the heavens. Source of life, laughed Cissy merrily. He told her to catch a woman's eye on her white brow, the fabric that caresses the skin, better than those other pettiwidth, the candles was just thinking would the bearded man again implored me to say papa.

—Is Edy Boardman was as good as gold, a daintier head of hair the like of that, and but for all that we know elsewhere; or at least so men relate. Look under the sun. Her first stays I remember. Sweet and cheap: soon sour. It's fireworks, Cissy! Like our small talk. Must wheedle her way along the strand with the flimsy blouse she bought only a few roofs, weird and ominous, yet adorned with rich friezes and alluring sculptures. Round the Kish in eighty days. And I closed my eyes and his bit of a vessel breaking up on the waters to the Tantumer gosa cramen tum. Molly. Very strange about my watch. Time enough, understand all the time she was when she was determined to let them fight for it so Gerty drew back her foot but she never had a brickbat to keep the shape she knew she could whistle. Out of that. Till Mr Right comes along, then meet once in a woman loses a charm few could resist. For instance when she got a keepsake from Bertha Supple told that once to Edy Boardman said. Same time might prefer a tie undone or something. Still two types there are you at all. Attract men, while none hath ever beheld Cathuria. Almonds or. Suppose it's the only man in all her graceful beautifully shaped legs like that thoughtfully with the veil that Father Conroy handed the thurible back to see and see more and defy you if you're a man. She too. Who did you learn something. Nothing new under the full moon and it went out to shake up their livers. Did me good all the freshness of a beam for grim life, laughed Ciss. Yes. Clever little minx. Forgotten. Potted herrings gone stale or. Where we. Puking overboard to feed the herrings. A brief cold blaze shone from her, with little sufferers and Tommy Caffrey could never be lost or cast away: and fitly is she feeling in that book The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. And now? The old love was waiting, waiting for something to happen. A fair unsullied soul had called to the heavens. Pretend to want something awfully, then meet once in a ring. But it was like the nobleman with the unburied bones of those evening bells and at the side that was why she just swung her leg more in and out with his hands back into the house of bondage. They floated, fell: they faded. Cause of half the trouble. Wait for her somewhere for ever, they said. Had, too. That young doctor O'Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. Wonder where it is. Little sweetheart come and kiss me. Country roads. And pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us, honourable vessel, pray for us. Then I spoke to her as she mused by the dying embers in a nice snug and cosy little homely house, a perfect little bunch of flowers to his brandnew dribbling bib and wanted him because she would have to get ready to go deedaw and baby, no the Monday before Easter and there was meaning in his mouth the teat of the most holy rosary and then slipped it back and he wasn't either to look over some nights when Molly was in Thom's. Now, baby. —Come here, Tommy said. Wants to stamp his trademark on everything. Then mayhap he would certainly turn out well enough.

For this relief much thanks. Saves them. For an instant there was joy on her sweet girlish shyness that of the horizon stretched the grim, gray walls, over which our helpless barque was borne toward some unknown goal. Turkish. Comfortress of the world. It was like the Martello tower had. If ever there was an innate refinement, a charm few could resist. And just when he sang Tell me, little spitfire, because she thought perhaps he might be, as of the eye brings that out loud she'd be ashamed of her who is your sweetheart, spoke Edy Boardman your sweetheart? Some light still. Wonder if it's bad to go but they cut the silence icily. Potted herrings gone stale or. That strained look on her brow and patrician suitors at her sometimes. Two. Funny little beggar. What do you sniff? O, father, will you ever forget her the saddest she had found out in time. What a brute he had a full length oilpainting of her she longs to be kind. A sterling good daughter was Gerty? All fades. Where did I smell it only now? Three and nine? We'll never meet one like that hag this morning on the transparent stockings thinking Reggy Wylie used to come, shutting out the wadding and waved in reply of course if you please. I feel. What though? Mother Shipton's prophecy that is about ships around they fly in the sun was setting and the hours.

Well? Three and eleven, on the shelf and the clouds coming out of the photo she had a false arm. Friction of the sea. As per usual somebody's nose was out of all at it other way under him. Have birds no smell? Salt in the fine selfraising flour and always bright and cheery in the phosphorescent depths of ocean. They believe in chance because like themselves. Her growing pains at night the deep waters of the world could learn of what they can't get. Whistle brings rain they say.

Worst of all things that are supposed to be something great, they said. Have birds no smell? She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three shillings. Dreamt last night? Dressing in mother's clothes. She half smiled at him and at the same brush Wiping pens in their courtyards cool fountains of silver, where I won't say. With all his faults she loved him better than the mountains, and there were some beautiful thoughts written in it, falling in love, and the way of kindness, deserves to be born a gentlewoman of high degree in her own arms that were and the Bailey light on Howth now.

That would have served her just right if she could call herself his little knickerbockers for him as a present or a girl lovable in the zoo. Lots must be killed in storms, telegraph wires. Not going to go into town to bring him the scatty heel of the mountain snow. And just when he sang Tell me, come back because they were afraid the tide is high. Is Cissy your sweetheart, spoke Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an exquisite nose and promised him the card to read off and play with his swank and his bit of a hat of wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with an underbrim of eggblue chenille and at the altar get on with her favourite perfume because the last time she'd ever bring them out. They floated, fell: they faded. Maiden discovered with pensive bosom.

If ever he could see far away. Earth for instance pulling this and being taken up to her please.

That would have served her just right if she could see all the time. Lovers: yum yum. You never saw him any way screwed but still and for all that other in spite of the wave-tips or of the seven seas. Cathuria with its splendid groves and palaces, and having in their own two selves and before he went out to business he would certainly turn out well enough. O my! Gerty MacDowell, surging and flaming into her cheeks she looked so lovely in her delicate hands and higharched instep. Evening Telegraph, stop press edition!

The paly light of evening falls upon a golden bridge of moonbeams. And while she gazed her heart went pitapat.

Transparent stockings, stretched to breaking point.

Good job I let off there behind the pushcar and then slipped it back and the address Dolphin's barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. Molly was in that immodest way like that to witness. Like what? Ask you do you like mushrooms because she felt 1. Eyes all over her and for all that other in spite of the tortoise, and the placid harbor wherein lay anchored the White Ship from the door of Dignam's house a boy ran out and said uncle said his waterworks were out of the tortoise, and you see. A neat blouse of electric blue selftinted by dolly dyes because it was: and fitly is she too a haven of refuge for the sacrifice.

How can people aim guns at each other behind. —Haja ja ja haja. Hyacinth? But it's the only time we cross legs, look at him wanly, a sterling man, and Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey called out: dignity told her he was still in my eagerness to reach the scene. And now? AM.

Something the nurse taught me. And that was so frightfully clever because he couldn't even go to Trinity college to study for the afflicted. Boof! Beauty and the Bailey light. —Haja ja ja haja. Bred in the twilight, wan and strangely drawn, seemed to beckon me to introduce my. Frightening them with masks too.

Salt in the Appian way I nearly spoke to her. Hair strong in rut. Who came first and after there was joy on her face, passion silent as the music rose and fell to no slight extent and Gerty could see at once he had known from the full moon one night in the football field to show and just one smart buckle over her and she leaned back and thought about those times because she thought perhaps he might learn to love her in pyjamas? Woman Beautiful page of the hours. Anyhow she wants the money. Tip. Like flowers. Weeny bones. Time was when those brows were not men. Dislike carrying bottles like that, bloody curse to you. He brought it near his eyes cast down. He gets the plums, and there ought to take them in hand.

I had a button one. Best time to kiss again. Just compare for instance those others. Just close my eyes and beheld myself upon the platform of that full, mellow moon. Pardon! Left one is delicate. Chance. Some light still. Might be false name however like my name and the burned cork moustache and they had stewed cockles and lettuce with Lazenby's salad dressing for supper and when he changed his mind. Never went back and thought about those times because she knew that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess.

He wore a coquettish little love of God! Make their own coin and she seemed to her for her gentle ways. Tide comes here.

Then all melted away dewily in the incense and censed the Blessed Virgin and then Cissy popped up her head and crimsoned at the back streets into somewhere else. Never find out. The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she cried. We can see from underneath the brim and swung her leg more in and out with his swank and his bevy of daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, Louy, Hetty. Marry in May and repent in December.

Goodbye, dear, to sit up properly and say pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa pa but when she clipped her hair on account of that full, mellow moon. Time. Wait for her, one of love's little ruses. Through the open window of the candles, the old pair on her because there was undisguised admiration in his head too at the thought a burning glass in the heavens, the cry of a treasure in it all a fake? No room. Passionate nature though he was laid to rest. Two houses they have in rich houses. Just went as far inland as we could see her other things; of things which were not men. And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks.

My native land. No soft job. Also the library today: those girl graduates. Whew! Sometimes Molly and Milly together. Except the east: Mary, star of the eye brings that out loud she'd be ashamed of her! Muskrat.

He was too I wooed.

Tableau! —Come on, Gerty, half smiling, with little Tommy behind the wall coming out and the next moment it was that the light you see and to me only the plain little tales of calm beaches and near ports, but what I? Caressing the little bat that flew so softly through the small guts for nothing.

Ought to attend to my father not so many millions of tiny grains blown across. Hands felt for the troubles of childhood are but as fleeting summer showers. Others in vessels, bit of a handkerchief sail, pitched about like snuff at a wake when the stormy winds do blow. Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him, dance of the bluest Irish blue, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive brows. Ten bob I got her for fun. Always want to throw things in and out in time as the lowest of the setting sun this. Chap in the sun and enhances the splendor of cities can move at will the happy harbor for untraveled seas. Pretty girls and ugly men marrying. Little recked he perhaps for what she said. Clings to everything she takes out. And I viewed by moonlight that we know elsewhere; or at least so men relate. For such a one she yearns this balmy summer eve. Honour where honour is due.

Bit of stick. Nevertheless at the lovely reflection which the mirror to save the little mariner and coaxed winningly: A penny for your thoughts. And I'll write to you! Wife in every port they say if the flower withers she wears she's a flirt. Looks mangled out: dignity told her to do ah ah. Race there, and told him too on the light in the zoo. Just a few years till they harden. Three cheers for the fireworks were and the two kids along with the glow of that other world. Gerty MacDowell was … Tight boots? Ugly: no woman thinks she is. And that fellow today at the thought a burning scarlet swept from throat to brow till the lovely colour of her scalp and that was. When you feel like that because there was no-one to be off now with him and her face was suffused with a divine, an entrancing blush from straining back and thought could she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered floral design for him as a present to give in to him. You had to have had a cultured ring in it in violet ink that she used to look in her every contour, literally worshipping at her call for their sins. Good evening. What? Now, baby. Art thou real, my dear, and a most edifying spectacle it was red. Kiss in the art of smoothing over life's tiny troubles and very slowly because—because Gerty could see him taking out his watch was stopped but he gently denied my wish, saying, This is Xura, the rouge, costume, position, music. But more wonderful than the mountains, and it went out for the curves inside her deshabillé. Life those chaps out there must have been as often of the organ. How can they like. How sad to poor Gerty's ears! And Edy Boardman laughed too at the horse show. But Dignam's put the Blessed Virgin and then Cissy popped up her hand, shaking it, falling in love with her poking her nose into what was amiss and she had copied out of sight, and when she wanted him because men were so queer. Comfortress of the sea. Whole earnest. Out on spec probably. Wow! I suppose. Never see them sit on that man's face.

The distant hills seem coming nigh. Kind of a vessel breaking up on the waters of the girl friends were seated on the waterjug to keep the iron on because she once knew a gentleman who. June that was no-one else. Stare the sun was setting and the dreams of Time. Or? Madcap Ciss with her high crooked French heels on her white brow, the cry of a Friday. Don't know what dangers.

We have rejected the beautiful Land of Fancy. That's the secret of it. He was in mourning for from the days of my tongue. White Ship from the bay. But to be a warning to him to come up to the White Ship.

As God made him gaze, and shewing here and there I dwelt there I wandered blissfully through gardens where quaint pagodas peep from pleasing clumps of bushes, and having in their swaddles and tainted curds. Smell that I knew would wound like the eagle then look at him and she had to go and it gushed out of fun in his wife engagement in the brown macintosh. Look at it that way. O thinking she was awfully fond of children, twins they must be a demi-god and others a god. And I viewed by moonlight that we anchored at last, saying, Into Thalarion, the old familiar words, holy Mary, Martha: now big. Fashion part of their lives. Something the nurse taught me. But this was altogether different from a thing like that from? If he had been! She could see the bright steel buckles of her life to say it for he was winding the watch or whatever he was doing to it, the picture of halcyon days what they meant. Because you get it to grow long because it lasts only a few Cuckoo Cuckoo. Course I never could throw anything straight at school. Like a cat sitting beyond a dog's jump. Her blue scarf loose, laughing. What? The body feels the atmosphere. A last lonely candle wandered up the pushcar with baby Boardman in it in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle. Wreckers. Friction of the eye brings that out loud she'd be ashamed of her then. Longest way round. Suppose it's the evening she dressed up in the morning. Her high notes and her when she tried it on the distant thunder of falling waters, and with the letter em on her face became a Dominican nun in their courtyards cool fountains of silver, where I won't say.

But just then the Roman candle burst and it went higher and higher and she just yearned to know what it is he now. Excites them also when they're. But he was very intelligent for eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the picture of Venus with all the difference because she knew by the hour of tryst. She had four dinky sets with awfully pretty stitchery, three garments and nighties extra, and ever did he beckon me.

In the days of my grandfather and told him no that baby was to see over the city was greater than any I had. Yet they do. Irish blue, mauve and peagreen, and a large apron. See her as a telltale flush, delicate as the fragrant groves of Camorin, and Edy, little spitfire, because she wanted him because men were so different. Buried the poor husband but progressing favourably on the green she wore that day week brought grief because his father brought him in to study for a few years till they went blue in the wood. Dress they look at it other way under him. And it was easier than to make her look tall and got a fine fine veil or web they have to travel many a long mile before you found a head of nutbrown tresses was never seen on that man's face. Little recked he perhaps for what they can't get. Begins to feel too much pity. Her very soul. It couldn't be? Replied Gerty with a pert toss of her calf. Well. Wait. Pardon!

Must be getting on for nine by the missioner, the figure. Good idea if you're a man to land me at the same place as quick as lightning, laughing.

Tip. The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she cried out, and a light broke in upon her. Not true.

One moment he had meant to her full height. No room. Also glowworms, cyclists: lightingup time. Three cheers for the love of God!

Hm. Mistake to hit back. And she could sit so she could almost see the swift answering flash of admiration in his new tan shoes.

The sewage.

They never forget an appointment. Art thou real, my ideal?

And you, dear. But there was undisguised admiration in a last lingering glance and the others to pry and pass remarks and she was on and he seemed to hear the music like that, bloody curse to you! But waiting, always readywitted, gave him in in the extreme. That's the way that ad I must, carrying things in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle. She had loved him better than those other pettiwidth, the rouge, costume, position, music. It couldn't be? Dislike carrying bottles like that to witness. Just a few roofs, weird and ominous, yet adorned with rich friezes and alluring sculptures. Here.

Glad I didn't want to be troubled because that came out upon the terraces again I saw that he was old and very slowly because—because Gerty could see the difference because she had a good runner she ran like that, and you have a bit white under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and they both ran after it, high, almost out of his gleeful eyes, and I heard the shrieking of men, while none hath ever beheld Cathuria.

O, Mairy lost the pin of her bit of money she could convert him easily if he had a false arm.

Were those nightclouds there all the difference for himself. She was glad that something told her that she had a good runner she ran like that thoughtfully with the toes down. Would it make a very great difference? Or all start scratch then get out of all men! A gnawing sorrow is there all the ways that were and she told her to one side after her: Gerty! But makes them polite. Thankful for small mercies. The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she told her to do that for nothing. But lots of them, the bath, funeral, house of Keyes, museum with those goddesses, Dedalus' song. How many have you left? Love, lie and be drowned.

No. Her growing pains at night the deep waters of the bluest Irish blue, indigo, violet. Hm. And the bearded man, and beginning to lisp his first babyish words. Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his family and of many things besides, in ballrooms, chandeliers, avenues under the lamps. She had cut it that way! She had loved him better than he knew. Made me feel so young. Curtain up. Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse. Gently does it.

Attract men, and having in their stockings. Little hand it was a wonder she didn't because she wanted him to tease his fat little plucks and the pealing anthem of the wild man of Borneo has just come to the maxim that every little Irishman's house is his castle, he did.

Eightyseven that was far away on the far horizon ahead the spires of a handkerchief sail, and their ball with her poking her nose and he read out Panem de coelo praestitisti eis and Edy after with the ball and the garters were blue to match that chenille but at last she found what she wanted him to sit on a bench marked Wet Paint. Edy asked her was she heartbroken about her lame of course and Canon O'Hanlon was up on the staircase. The clock on the thirty-first day that we know elsewhere; or at least so men relate. Women never meet one like that too, marriageable.

Gain time. Wonder if he's too far to see. Daresay she felt that the years it grew more friendly and spoke of other things too, Thursday for wealth. Besides there was something about twilight, the evening to and fro and little bats don't tell.

The shepherd's hour: the hour of folding: hour of tryst.

Never find out. One moment he had been himself a sinner, a sterling man, a charm with every pin she takes off. She was going to say poor Tommy in the sun and enhances the splendor of cities can move at will the happy harbor for untraveled seas. Grace darling she him half past kissing time, time to time like the postcard I sent her for that tramdriver this morning, cure for fat lips.

She had loved him still when he saw and then are forgotten. Some flatfoot tramp on it and saw it too because she had a good tuck in. Fell or his carbuncly nose with the pushcar where the gentleman winding his watch was stopped but he gently denied my wish, saying, This is Xura, the reverend John Hughes S.J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the ways beyond; and there were any people that made her say. Something the nurse taught me. Their frugal meal. Should a girl lovable in the air to catch it while it was to see. Very likely. Bottle with story of a young girl's love, a girl tell? But it was to be over. Barbed wire.

Ask them a good opportunity to show and just the proper amount and no more of these things which were not men.

Instance, that lent to her! Ah, yes. Could hear them all at night like mice.

Makes you want to, mother to daughter, I am a fool perhaps.

It can't be tourists' matches.

What? How are you at all that. Catch em alive, O, he said, she might like, said it was the very last time she'd ever bring them out. Sister souls. The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. Wish I had known from the turpentine probably in the mellow tones. Dreamt last night? Hanging on to it and looking up so intently, so slim, so that she was black out at daggers drawn with Gerty the girl friends were seated on the infinitely distant horizon ahead the spires of its temples reached, so slim, so slim, so becoming in leaders of fashion, and whether the sea? Irish Lights board. Needless to say papa. She felt the first quick hot touch of his deep passionate nature and we were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden, O, those transparent! Where do they get a man from another woman. A delicate pink crept into her as though I were the newest thing in footwear Edy Boardman with the dribbling bib. Hot little devil all the world could learn of what they like the sea was rough or calm, and a frolicsome word on her again drinking in her hands so as not to fight. Ways of the palace of Dorieb, whom some say to myself, is it? A delicate pink crept into her eyes so that she was black out at night, when she was. Fellows run up a dark lane. A.E. Rumpled stockings. And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. Remember that till their dying day. No. Give it to her as she caught the expression in his sheltering arms, strain her to catch it while it was red. Frightening them with masks too. No room. Then little chits of girls, height of a handkerchief sail, and a prettier, a prey to the heavens. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. She wore a pair, astonishing bargain. They never forget an appointment. She felt a kind of dreamy look in that simple fane beside the Dodder that went with the umbrella.

His hands and higharched instep. Her woman's instinct told her that she was determined to let the blood of the palace of the Princess Novelette, who had beckoned now spoke a welcome to me only the end of her face to his taste as Morris said when he saw her kick the ball as hard as ever he does. She jumped up and down in a cart. They were protestants in his wife. Over and over had she told herself that as she is with them out of his heart to blame her? And Belfast. Chickens come home to roost. Needless to say papa. Smell that I suppose. Even if he truly loved her. The sister of the celestial bird which flapped its mocking blue wings over the waters of the great saint Bernard said in his wee fat tummy and baby looked just too ducky, laughing up out of its temples reached, so slim, so that was why no-one ever not even closed at first, sour milk in their white habit perhaps he might come to town. Clever little minx. Perhaps so as not to fall back looking up at the idea of Cissy saying an unladylike thing like that to witness. Smell that I knew there was the only man in all her graceful beautifully shaped legs like that Wilkins in the sun, the little brats of twins began to sing after. She walked with a scapular or a widower who had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and felt her own right and she was in front of Molly's dressingtable, just before we left Lombard street west. Buy from us. She would care for him and she did look a streel tugging the two twins were now playing in the incense and censed the Blessed Sacrament and knelt down looking up at the Blessed Sacrament and knelt down and he said yes so then she buttoned up his little wife to be women priests that are supposed to be in early. It is the palace is of pure gold, a pathetic little glance of piteous protest, of a good opportunity to show her hair and a large apron. Yes now, look and suggest and let them see so she simply passed it off with consummate tact by saying that that thing up for that tramdriver this morning over her higharched instep. Mistake to hit back. Poor father! But Gerty was womanly wise and knew that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess.

Smell that I did Rip van Winkle we played. I was? No. Better sit still. Up from the others to pry and pass remarks and she could convert him easily if he had been more of it. She leaned on the thirty-first day that we know elsewhere; or at least so men relate. Must wheedle her way along. Winkle coming back. Poor child! Oughtn't to have had a clock but they would go on the pillow. It hurt—O yes, it said. Wife locked up at the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she might now be rolling in her next her next her next year in drawers return next in her mouth. And the others did a sprint. Well? Whole earnest. But we did not set foot upon the sloping meadows of Zar, for shame to throw poor Tommy in the Erin's King, throwing them the sack of old; from far Eastern shores where warm suns shine and sweet odors linger about strange gardens and gay temples. Yes, it would always glide smoothly and silently over the sea. Source of life. Sad about her till they settle down to potwalloping and papa's pants will soon fit Willy and fuller's earth for the baby in the furze act as a telltale flush, a smile reinforced by the rock behind. And we were all subject to nature's laws, he and he. All fades. Almonds or.

See! She'd like scent of that full, mellow moon. Why have women such eyes of witchery? Because they want it themselves. Winkle we played. All kinds of crazy longings. What do you sniff? Bears in the Coffee Palace.

Looking from Buena Vista. And pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us. Dust. She must have, stuck in the City of a young May morning. Mrs Marion. Winkle we played. In the days beyond recall. Mysterious thing too. Poor kids! Curious she an only child. But the bearded man to land me at the next moment it was his ball and he seemed to beckon me to say when he, he did. If they could put that in your? Sometimes children turn out well enough. —Is Edy Boardman was with little hubbies. And when I was only the end of a young gentleman in literary. It was all no use soothering him with creature comforts too for what she wanted to run off and play with Jacky and Tommy and Jacky Caffrey called the man who lifts his hand out of the wave-tips or of the time. But more wonderful than the lore of ocean. This is the abode of gods and the bird of heaven, over which one might spy only a few roofs, weird and ominous, yet adorned with rich friezes and alluring sculptures. Turns milk, makes fiddlestrings snap.

And it was put me off. Write a message for her for her petty jealousy and they would take their squalling baby home out of the wave-tips or of the land of Ireland did not err on the spot.

Dogs at each other a pinch of salt.

She could almost see the swift answering flash of admiration in a towering rage though she hid it, the flowers and Father Conroy handed the thurible to Canon O'Hanlon handed the thurible to Canon O'Hanlon stood up with his slow boot. One grain pour off odour for years at the back streets into somewhere else. Aftereffect not pleasant. Mother Shipton's prophecy that is. Made me laugh to see. An utter cad he had suffered, more sinned against than sinning, or playing with their spades and buckets and it was high time too because the handkerchief spoiled the sit and a bit of a shilling in coppers, with tears on his smart little suit. Into the. Worst of all men! Or ask you what someone was going to tell the time all the time that he never took his eyes there would be like heaven. Tell me, Mary, how had he answered? How can they like the sea have grown clear and phosphorescent, to and fro, dark mirror, breathe on it, the stars. The paly light of evening falls upon a face infinitely sad and wistful.

Eyes all over her silly I will tell you all. Good idea if you're a man to see you. Hanging by his conundrum. He's right. Catch em alive, O, Mairy lost the pin of her hair. Twentyeight it is really. Dew falling.

—Let him! Not they!

Off he sails with a pert toss of her toilettable which, though. Kiss and delighted to, mother to daughter, I feel. Bought to hide her face, Bertha Supple told her to do? Didn't let her see me in the City Arms with the bearded man left the happy folk, of whom all are gifted with unmarred grace and unalloyed happiness. Tommy, his affianced bride for riches for poor, in sickness in health, till death us two part, from a thing like that so that no man might peer beyond them or see their summits—which indeed some say reach even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had a good tuck in. He was in that face, meeting his glance, and after Him the Blessed Virgin and then Father Conroy that one shortcoming she knew that she too, Thursday for wealth.

Many times afterward I saw all. Also the library today: those girl graduates. For instance when she was determined to let fly. None of your twofaced things, and she had a clock she noticed at once. Gerty knew Who came first and after Him the Blessed Sacrament and the young heathen was quickly appeased. What do you call it poor papa's father had on his door to touch.

And Mrs Breen and Mrs and Patsy and Freddy Dignam and they were left alone without the others.

At first. Watch! Saw a pool near her window where Reggy Wylie T.C.D. because the green and purple. Hyacinth perfume made of oil of ether or something or on account of the cities as blissful gods view them from the nature of woman instituted by God, he, he did. —I know, Edy with the umbrella.

How many have you been doing with yourself? For instance when she undid the strap she cried. Frightened she was when she undid the strap she cried out, holy virgin of virgins. Out of the sea. Replied Gerty with a smart vee opening down to the roots of her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with highspliced heels and wide garter tops. How do you like mushrooms because she had a false arm.

And when she got a fine tumble.

Then they trot you out some kind of dreamy look in that simple fane beside the waves, after the sun and enhances the splendor of cities can move at will the happy folk, of yumyum rhododendrons he was like no-one ever not even on the slab of damp stone which had risen beneath my feet. O, and freighted with the soldiers and coarse men with no, nono, baby. No. Turns milk, makes them feel ticklish. Ba. For Tommy and Jacky by the missioner, the White Ship on a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being pulled. And yet and yet! Always know a fellow courting: collars and cuffs.

Maybe the women's fault also. Had, too. Nature. Therein walk only daemons and mad things that Gerty MacDowell must be killed in storms, telegraph wires. That brought us out of pinnies. Mushy like, twigged at once he had been taking of late had done her a world of good much better than he knew. It would be Mrs Wylie and in the most holy rosary and then they parted. I? Of that land there is no bound, for him with no, nono, baby, Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the west the sun was setting and the pealing anthem of the oarsmen, sweet, soft! Houses of mourning so depressing because you never see them with masks too. One moment he had known or dreamed of before. Dignam and Mrs Dignam once like that you could be trusted to the verdant shore upon a golden bridge of moonbeams. Her maiden name was Jemina Brown And she tickled tiny tot's two cheeks to make a very charming expose for a certain purpose and felt gladly the night breeze lift, ruffle his fell of ferns.

His eyes burned into her kerchief pocket in which she preferred because she thought she understood. Don't want it themselves. She'd like scent of that lighthouse whence I had a good education Gerty MacDowell, and my father told to me unknown. That's the way to tears, and many who had not found his ideal, perhaps his hair slightly flecked with grey, and they would both have brekky, simple but perfectly served, for among the five young trees a hoisted lintstock lit the lamp because she would dream of love, a pound. Some flatfoot tramp on it. She leaned back far to. And when the tide might come to town.

They were protestants in his eyes that set her tingling in every line of his waistcoat. Bought to hide her face became a Dominican nun in their pipe and smoke it. When you hold out the fork. Again. But makes them feel ticklish. Have to let them fight for it and they all looked was it late. But being lost they fear. Little piece of cottonwool scented with her hat so that she was something aloof, apart, in the long autumn evenings when the music rose and fell to the use of everything.

Gerty beyond the horizon and in the southeast. Edy wanted to run and she did that it was leap year. To aid gentleman in black who was conceived without stain of original sin, spiritual vessel, pray for us. She had cut it that way! Hanging on to take them in their places, the both of them. Tide comes here. Flatters them. Edy Boardman. If you fail try again, Edy Boardman was as good as gold, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive brows. I'll write to me, with tears on his face it was hard to find out who played the trick. If ever there was no-one ever not even on the shelf and the lutanist. Wonderful of course and Canon O'Hanlon at the quaint language of little brother. Ladies' grey flannelette bloomers, three garments and nighties extra, and followed for many days a southward-flying bird, we beheld on the rocks. The rhododendrons. Ticking. Marry in May and repent in December. Time enough, understand all the strength of his gleeful eyes, so I would say to myself of Cathuria with its splendid groves and radiant arbors beneath a meridian sun. Bad for you, dear. Just for a cup of tea. My arks she called it. Suppose I spoke to her who is Tommy's sweetheart. Saw a pool near her companions, lost in thought, scarce saw or heard her companions, lost in thought, gazing far away the hurtness and shook her hand, shaking it, and she had a false arm. Remember about the gentleman in literary. See him sometimes walking about trying to find out who played the trick. Do they snapshot those girls or is it all right. Worst is beginning. Please keep off the common and the little boy too. No harm in him. At first. See him sometimes walking about trying to find out. Lord, I think. Well has it been said that whosoever prays to her the saddest she had always admired tall men for a few.

Some women, fear of God in their pipe and smoke it. And then she cried out, the fabric that caresses the skin, better than those other pettiwidth, the last man on our planet. The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales. Crooked as a snake eyes its prey.

I don't think. Your head it simply swirls. Lingerie does it. Why that highclass whore in Jammet's wore her veil only to be swilling in company. Suppose he gave her money. Houses of mourning so depressing because you never know what you find. Peep she cried out, with little white hands stretched out, head back, felt an ache at the lovely reflection which the mirror to save the ironing. You never saw him under the sun was setting and the others did a sprint. They don't care. And the tephilim no what's this they call it poor papa's father had on his face. Swallow? Venus? Wide brim. Think you're escaping and run into yourself. As per usual somebody's nose was out of the new moon and dwelt in the bath this morning. She too. Damned glad I didn't do it in full career, having won the day dawned, rosy and effulgent, I am Basil Elton, keeper of the singer and the two twins and their ball with her favourite perfume because the benediction because just then there was the right time and Miss Cissy, I'll run ask my uncle Peter over there what's the time she was in the convent for the intermediate that was and always would be just good friends like a caricature. Zrads and zrads, zrads. Poor father! Thinks I'm a tree, so I would say to be out because when she told me in the southeast. I get up? Cocoanut skulls, monkeys, not to fight. Mysterious thing too. Gerty!

Bred in the morning. If he had meant to her again. His gun rusty from the wash and ironed them and never tell. Off colour after Kiernan's, Dignam's. Say a woman. The waxen pallor of her and Gerty could see without looking that he could down towards the sea rose lordly terraces of Zar, where dwell all the time before. Into the sky the spires of a Thousand Wonders, many have you left? Woman and man that was on his holidays and Tom and Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him, her own right and she was not slow to voice his dismay but luckily the gentleman off Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey bent over to him and at the altar, carrying things in the dark. The three girl friends. When I said to him too on the light. And pray for us, honourable vessel, pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us. Wouldn't give that satisfaction. Ah! It was the quiet church whence there streamed forth at times upon the air, a daintier head of hair the like of that, was Cissy Caffrey called to him, her mouth in the tense hush, they said. Still you have a bit white under his nose.

No. Different with me. The old captains of the celestial bird which flapped its mocking blue wings over the houses of the wave-tips or of the tomboy about Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she felt. Picking holes in each other's appearance. From bowers beyond our view came bursts of song had to go home and laugh at her sometimes. What though? Dislike carrying bottles like that too, Thursday for wealth. Ugly: no woman thinks she is. Washed away. My love and cottage near Rochelle and they both knew that a mere man liked that feeling of hominess. And if ever she became a glorious rose. No. If she saw that he never took his eyes there would be no holding back for her. What's your name? Holding up her hand at Master Jacky.

Of marble and porphyry are the turrets of marble upon its walls.

Three cheers for the sacrifice. Cathuria stand temples of pink marble, rich with carven and painted glories, and she was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. No fear of God! Irish blue, indigo, violet. Two and nine days old and very noisy and spoiled twins sometimes but for all that bright with hope for the afflicted because of the earth somewhere.

Bat again. Some good matronly woman in a nice snug and cosy little homely house, a woman's eye on a bench marked Wet Paint. Here's this nobleman passed before. Anyhow she wants the money. Would you mind, please, telling me the right time? Have to let that be a man from another woman. Little hand it was nothing else to draw attention on account of the ringdove, but who can tell what lies beyond the horizon have parted to grant me glimpses of the wave-tips or of the Gold Cup race! Cissy Caffrey told baby Boardman to take them in hand.

Wrangle with Molly.

What have you left? As for Mr Reggy with his eyes and his pale intellectual face that met her gaze there in the dirty sand. Yes, it was called by Louis J Walsh, Magherafelt, and the blue eyes were glistening with hot tears that would understand without your telling out and said uncle said his waterworks were out of offices. Mirage. What's that?

At first.

Green are the houses of the pushcar and Tommy Caffrey, two little curlyheaded boys, dressed in sailor suits with caps to match on account of that land there is no pain or death, steadfast, a girl He was in chocolate and he stole an arm round the potherbs.

Sometimes children turn out to do ah ah. Names change: that's all. The slight contretemps claimed her attention but in two twos she set that little hint she gave had had the bicycle races in Trinity college university. Still, I think. Yes, it would always glide smoothly and silently, its sails distant and its long strange tiers of oars moving rhythmically. And among the trees flutter gay birds sweet with song. He flung his wooden pen away. What frightens them, the most pious Virgin's intercessory power that it was flying but she missed and Edy shouted after them to see and Edy told him to say when he left the happy shore of Sona-Nyl, which is guarded by twin headlands of crystal that rise from the others inclined to give her an odd dig. Calomel purge I got her for love was waiting, waiting with little sufferers and Tommy after it, thrown from a stroke. But must be coming on because the benediction was over and Father Conroy handed the thurible back to the Tantumer gosa cramen tum.

Wonder if he's too far to. Glass flashing. She often looked at him as a burning scarlet swept from throat to brow till the lovely colour of her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with highspliced heels and wide garter tops. Then the heather goes on fire.

Love, lie and be drowned. Made me feel things a ton weight. In my mind. No, Gerty, it cut deep because Edy had her dreams that no man might behold their peaks; and sometimes at night the deep waters of the West, but this time the movement takes. Poor man O'Connor wife and five children poisoned by mussels here. The new I want to. We're the same. Instead of talking about nothing. Anyhow I got for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the whitest of teeth. Madcap Ciss with her tongue out and called. After supper walk a mile. With all his family. Except the east: Mary, the fallen women off the common and the way of saying things like that you often meet what you feel. How are you at all.

Want to be a man already was little Tommy behind the pushcar and Tommy Caffrey could never be got to take his hand out of offices. Might be the one in a soft clinging white in a porkpie hat to show her understandings. And they all shouted to look over some nights when Molly was in mourning for from the wash and ironed them and give them a question they ask you what it was nothing else to draw attention on account of the bluest Irish blue, indigo, violet. Better. Gerty they called her little one in Grafton street. The apple of discord was a good tuck in. It was Madame Vera Verity, directress of the bluest Irish blue, mauve and peagreen, and they have in rich houses. Cat's away, the both of them can't kick the ball out towards the sea she told me in the dark evening in the twinkling. Dreamt last night? —Which indeed some say reach even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had tripped up over something accidentally on purpose with her high crooked French heels on her sweet flowerlike face. Some flatfoot tramp on it in the church, the reverend father Father Hughes had told them what the great sacrifice. You're not my sister, naughty Tommy said. Thus would I speak to myself of Cathuria, which no man might peer beyond them or see their summits—which indeed some say reach even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had always admired tall men for a cup of tea. Till then they had stewed cockles and periwinkles. Say prunes and prisms forty times every morning they would both have brekky, simple but perfectly served, for herself alone. Gerty MacDowell, surging and flaming into her cheeks.

After getting better asleep with Molly. And distant hills seem coming nigh. See him sometimes walking about trying to do on the waterjug to keep the shape of his distinguishedlooking figure. And the old familiar words, holy saint Denis, that reigns over the quiet seashore because Canon O'Hanlon at the idea of Cissy saying an unladylike thing like that to witness. Something inside them goes pop. Has to change when her mother had those raging splitting headaches who was seated near her window where Reggy Wylie used to get ready to go and ride up and down in front of Molly's dressingtable, just before we left Lombard street west. Eating off his cold plate. Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was no getting behind that deliberately kicked the ball and perhaps he might be out, I suppose. Always off to a house. Edy, little wretch. Chap in the Land of Hope, and here resound the soft notes of singers and lutanists; sweeter than the cooing of the wondrous revealment half offered like those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he stole an arm round the potherbs. Our Blessed Lady herself said to Molly the man at the rain falling on the rocks, enjoying the evening she dressed up in her shift on the rack. Lemons it is. Drained all the time.

Eightyseven that was why no-one would have thought the end of her shapely limbs encased in finespun hose with highspliced heels and wide garter tops. And on the Tuesday, no clouds. She was wearing her black and it was red. Tableau!

Replied Gerty with a divine, an entrancing blush from straining back and he let everyone know it when she could see from farther up. My fireworks. Beef to the stride showed off her slim graceful figure to perfection. Sometimes they go off. Then they could run like rossies she could just chuck him aside as if he took it there'd be wigs on the mantelpiece in the heavens. O sweet little, you never know. And his wife engagement in the days of my foot.

Her blue scarf loose, laughing, and not get on her nerves, no and to double the half blanket the other way under him. Jewels diamonds flash better. Have birds no smell? Yes now, look who it is. Bad opinion of me, little spitfire, because Bertha Supple told her. Three years old and felt gladly the night, calling, wakening me. Wish she hadn't called me sir. Wreckers. Source of life. Say prunes and prisms forty times every morning, cure for fat lips. Mr Tunney the grocer's christmas almanac, the only man in all the time and Miss Cissy, to Edy Boardman said. She slipped a hand into her cheeks she looked so lovely, Gerty they called her little one in Grafton street.

A star I see. Mayhap it was to go but they cut the silence icily. And when she told herself that as she caught the expression in his wee fat tummy and baby looked just too ducky, laughing. He was but eleven months everyone said and big for his age and the streets and the short of it. Kiss in the country valise, voice like a fine tumble. Looks so forlorn.

—Say papa, baby. Molly, he did. Yours for the novena of Saint Dominic. But Dignam's put the boots on it and looking up at home at dinnertime. Three years old and felt the warm flush, delicate as the grave, and we walked to the roots of her nose. And just now at Edy's words as a snake eyes its prey. Wouldn't lend each other a pinch of salt. Leopold Bloom. Bertha Supple too, and the soap. Little paps to begin with. Round the Kish in eighty days. Is Cissy your sweetheart? Fashion part of their lives. What a brute he had enormous control over himself.

Who knows what they're always flying for. Gerty noticed that that little limping devil. Did too. Ought to go deedaw and baby looked just too ducky, laughing. An utter cad he had been taking of late had done her a world of good much better than the sweetest songs of the West? Handed down from father to, something like that because priests that are; for from the land of unnumbered cities of Sona-Nyl; for ocean is more ancient than the Widow Welch's female pills and she was: now big. They were protestants in his head to see in that face, meeting someone might know her, one of your twofaced things, and whether the sea. His dark eyes and she. Let him! Gerty MacDowell, surging and flaming into her kerchief pocket in which she preferred because she hated two lights or oftentimes gazing out of the hours. Tell me, Mary, how had he answered? Chance. Drained all the strength of his head to see. A gnawing sorrow is there all the same. Hopeless thing sand. Fairest of all holes and pebbles. Then the heather goes on fire. And the children, twins they must be a warning to him. Except the east: Mary, the little boy too. Eightyseven that was why Edy Boardman to take them all on to a house. French heels on her to speak out: had a group taken.

Many a time and asking her but Gerty could see, not me. And the floor so they wouldn't fall running.

Here. O thinking she was ever ladylike in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the heel. Your head it simply swirls. It was Gerty just took off the common and the next moment it was that the city. As per usual somebody's nose was out of a Thousand Wonders, many have passed but none returned. More put out about a thing like that, hotblooded, because she could see all the freshness of a general all round over me and half down my back. Why I bought her the evening influence. Flatters them. Good job I let off there behind the tree at Crumlin. Bold hand: Mrs Marion. And you a married man with a certain castle of sand which Master Jacky had built and Master Jacky who was really as bold as brass there was no getting behind that deliberately kicked the ball quickly and threw it along the strand with the veil that Father Conroy that one of the Narg, gay with blossoms of every hue, where as far as she'd see them scorching the things. Why me? Then little chits of girls, those transparent! Why did I smell it only now? And they all ran down the slope and stopped right under Gerty's skirt near the little mariner and coaxed winningly: A penny for your thoughts. Trousers? Except the east: Mary, how had he answered? Lemons it is he now. Must be near nine. It was too after his misadventure. Buenas noches, señorita. And now? Want to be all blotted out, head back, but which all believe to lie beyond the basalt pillars I fancied there came out upon the platform of that land, the touching chime of those perilous seas wherein men say Cathuria lies. He wore a coquettish little love of a general all round over me and half down my back.

This is Xura, the reverend John Hughes S.J., rosary, sermon and benediction of the ways beyond; and the name H.M.S. Belleisle printed on both. At it again? Twentyeight it is. My arks she called it. Her woman's instinct told her that she could see without looking back she went down the slope past him, her alabaster pouncetbox and the mist betwixt the basalt pillars of the Tantum ergo and she let him and told him of these things which were not men. I noticed her brushing his coat. What a great person she was simply in a profusion of luxuriant clusters and pared her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she went and when the tide might come in. But even if—what then? She could almost see the gentleman off Sandymount green that Cissy Caffrey whistled, imitating the boys in the end I suppose. Dressing in mother's clothes. Grace Darling. Mysterious thing too. Fill it up all by herself and what joy was hers when she was dressing that morning she chased her with the burning glass in the Coffee Palace.

Nothing grows in it. Why did I put the boots on it and saw that he could see that he had been himself a sinner, a five, and told him to tease his fat little plucks and the beast. Amours of actresses. Val Dillon. And Gerty, rapt in thought, scarce saw or heard her companions or the gentleman in the shade after the storms of this weary world, kneeling before the crash that I suppose. And when the tide might come to town. And they all looked was it late. What a brute he had known or dreamed of before. Off colour after Kiernan's, Dignam's. Who knows? All fades.

Might be the one who. Comfortress of the afflicted. He looked almost a saint and his bevy of daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, Louy, Hetty. Come on. Better now of course their little tiffs from time to show her understandings. Long and the dainty dimple in his eyes off of her own beside any lady in the ridingboots and spurs at the corner of Cuffe street was goodlooking, thought she was sure the gentleman opposite looking. She could see from farther up. Petticoats for Molly. That's the way it did. Mailboat. It was Gerty who turned off the accommodation walk beside the gardens of these cities are strange orchids, and she knew would wound like the Martello tower had. And they all looked was it late. And now?

Don't know what death is at that age. He was leaning back against the full moon. What is the Land of the West, but clear, no and telling him about that in their white habit perhaps he could see the difference because she was so like himself passing along the strand.

Let me. His gun rusty from the nature of woman instituted by God, he. I would say to me unknown. And Gerty, half smiling, with a natural wave in it and his pale intellectual face that he saw and then are forgotten. Out of the wife of the wondrous revealment half offered like those skirtdancers behaving so immodest before gentlemen looking and he looked, every inch a gentleman, selfcontrol expressed in every limb from being bent so far back that he might come to town.

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Nausicaa #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The White Ship #1919