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heavens-moonlight · 4 months

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𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 | 𝟬𝟭 : 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗗𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘

SYNOPSIS | 02 : THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

Author’s Note: The following chapter will be where the misery starts but I wanted to build character and friendship dynamics here first. Updates won't be as frequent (because of one word: life) but I have pre-written a lot for this drama already so I'll see this work to the end! Hopefully this is enjoyable so far, and feel free to let me know what you think (or what you want to see in future chapters)! Until next time! ♡

"THE INNOCENT CIVILIANS HAVE LOST, AND THE MAFIA WON!"

Your heavy palpebrae that moments earlier masked your vision in dimness, adorned with a trace of gentle sleepiness, slowly flutters open at the announcement, eyes emerging from the veil of unconsciousness. Finding yourself awakening with an overwhelming and unshakeable wave of trepidation washing over you, your chest tightens in palpable distress. The heaviness pales no less in comparison to the weight of an anvil sinking down atop your sternum, lungs punctured by bowed bones.

You sit there in a state of unease, mind racing with apprehension and discomposure, searching for answers to the troubling sensation coursing through your body. The sense of foreboding grips your heart tightly like an invisible vice, leaving you breathless and unable to shake off the unwanted feeling.

In a haste, you slide open the window beside you, the glass screeching against rubber weatherstrips expanded by scorching summer heat. Through the humidity, a light breeze brushes past, breathing air and life back into you. It's not hard to recognize the way your subconscious whispers insistently that something is amiss, the combination of uncertainty and uneasiness blending together into something you can't decipher.

Your hand comes to rest against your chest, heart pounding strongly and ceaselessly against your ribcage, almost as though wanting to escape from its confines. It sends you reeling, akin to an out of body experience. For some unexplained reason, confusion clouds your thoughts as you struggle to clear the thick shroud of fog encasing your entire being, the mist muddling and settling deep within you. A haunting sense of premonition creeps over as if some elapsed memory shares in its ominous secrets. Yet, try as you might, you could not uncover the source of this inexplicable anxiety. You're left clueless except for the empty feeling both in your mind and soul, like you have forgotten something important.

When your breathing returns to normal and your pulse has settled back into its regular rhythmic beat, you shake your head to clear it of the sudden upsetting thoughts. Only then do you realize you had fallen asleep at one point, head tilted back against the warm and worn peeling leather seats of the bus. The sound of loud conversations and even louder hum of the engine, the smell of smoke, and the bump of the vehicle's wheels on uneven pavement brings with it a gentle sway of movement that returns to you a sense of comfort you can't put into words.

Glancing down at your lap, you notice that you had left the entirety of a horror movie playing on your phone, the end credits having long since rolled endlessly, words drenched in red blinking cursorily across the screen. You rarely experienced nightmares, not even after indulging in disturbing content, and certainly not when it's broad daylight out still. So then, why now?

The sound of a book plopping down to the ground pulls you out of your reverie and you lean forward to pick it up, folding it closed to survey the front cover.

흰나비의 살인.

The White Butterfly's Murder.

You smile to yourself. It was so like Yoon-Seo to read a murder mystery on a school trip, the same exact one you had gifted to her only yesterday for her birthday. A love of thriller was what brought you both to be such good friends in the first place, and it didn't seem those like-minded interests would diverge any time soon.

"Yoon-Seo ah..." Scooting forward in your seat, you lightly tap her on the shoulder and she jolts upright, turning back to look at you, unreasonably startled, a shiver running down her spine. "What's wrong?" Your grin drops slightly at her growing restlessness, face now pale as if she had encountered an apparition. Her eyes shift back and forth, guarded for a microsecond before snapping back into her usual self.

Yoon-Seo takes noticeably deep inhales, drawing the attention of Jung-Won, her seat mate for the ride, who pauses mid-coding to look over, displeased.

"What did you dream of?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Han Seol-Hwa. Lee Yoon-Seo.” Jung-Won clicks her tongue teasingly, pointing a finger from you to Yoon-Seo. “I'm making it a rule that you guys stay away from blood, murders, and deaths this trip, alright?"

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. "Alright, I promise you eomma. No more nagging Yoon-Seo and I."

Jung-Won scowls at you playfully, pushing her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose and you stick out your tongue in her direction impishly. Yoon-Seo laughs quietly at the exchange as you hand her back her book.

"Thanks, Seol-Hwa."

"Tell me all about it later when we've arrived." Despite muttering it under your breath to avoid being heard by Jung-Won, you fail miserably.

"Seriously?!"

You and Yoon-Seo laugh together as Jung-Won goes on a tangent about how psychologically, scary things are not good for young, impressionable minds, fingers click-clacking away all the while. Fortunately preoccupied, she doesn't notice Yoon-Seo sending you a wink, a hidden promise between you two to indulge in the realm of the supernatural regardless.

A resounding and victorious scream travels all the way from the back of the bus and you turn around to observe the friend group seated there.

"See?! I told you all Yool was the Mafia! Let's play again," Eun-Ha says, arms crossed. "You idiots never listen to me, do you?" She slaps both Yeon-Woo and Eun-Chan on the back of their heads as petty punishment.

"What can I say? You simply can't kill the master." Yool leans back, legs thrown atop the headrest of the seat in front, a proud smile stretched across his face.

As they're about to commence another game, Jin-Ha gets relayed a message through Seung-Bin. "Tell them that Kyung-Jun is sleeping and to shut the hell up."

"YAH!" The random shout is so out of place and entirely uncalled for, but it's effective for the time being. "Kyung-Jun is sleeping," Jin-Ha parrots, obedient. "You guys are always so fucking loud that we can hear you before we can see you!" Met with blank stares all around, he's finally satisfied at the reduction in volume and goes back to looking at something Seung-Bin points out to him on his phone. Unbeknownst to him, the rest switch to eyeing him in disfavor behind his back.

It wasn't hard to see the hierarchy of the bullies' group, although Jin-Ha most likely doesn't notice anything wrong with the skewed power dynamics.

Kyung-Jun unpredictably opens his eyes, turning to glare at Heo Yool specifically, but when he swivels back around again, your eyes meet coincidentally and he simply stares, an unreadable expression on his face. You avert your gaze hastily, not wanting to stir up trouble with the bullies, especially not Kyung-Jun who was quick to anger if someone so much as breathed wrongly in his direction.

Your eyes search the rest of the bus lazily before landing on Jun-Hee, sleeping peacefully unaware, head tilted towards the window. The sunlight bathes him in a soft yellow glow and you can't help but stare as a single ray of light filters through the curtains, slanting lightly across his face. You etch every slope, every contour, and every dip of his countenance behind your eyes so that the image of him doesn't fade.

The comfortable rise and fall of Jun-Hee's chest, synchronized with his steady breathing is so serene that it captivates your heart. In high noon, the gentle curves of his face seem even more soft, accentuated by the calmness enveloping his features. Fondly, you observe him in the morning's bright golden haze, and in the beauty of the falling sunbeams, you wonder if he'd ever see you in the same way.

A rolled-up piece of paper hits you square in the face and you finally drag your gaze away long enough to see who it is. Whipping your head around, you're met with snickers from Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun, who don't even try to hide they're the culprits.

You're being obvious. Hyun-Ho mouths the words discernibly. Just sit next to him if you're going to gawk.

You chuck the paper ball back toward him and it smacks him in the mouth, your nose scrunching up in focus mixed with annoyance.

"I think that's the most creative way I've ever seen someone being told to shut up," Dong-Hyun voices approvingly, shooting you two thumbs up.

"Are you my friend or hers?" Hyun-Ho asks childishly, somewhat snubbed.

"To be honest, she can be more frightening than you at times even though she's half your size."

You giggle to yourself as the two start squabbling in their seats across the aisle from Jung-Won and Yoon-Seo.

For the most part, after having transferred to Yooil High, you were fairly well-liked by everyone for your just and nonjudgmental attitude. That, and you pretty much kept to yourself, stayed out of trouble, and knew not to dig your nose in other's business if it didn't concern you. You weren't popular by any means, but not a single person had a true reason to dislike you and you hoped to continue that track record.

By a stroke of bad luck, your parents died a few years ago in a car accident, and you've been living with your cousin Hyun-Ho ever since, adopted by your aunt and uncle-in-law. They have been nothing short of welcoming and loving, and the same goes for Hyun-Ho, who acts no less like your real brother. Sure, he's annoying at times but it's just his overprotective nature and ease of accepting the older sibling role. You got on quite quickly with Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won, and Hyun-Ho made sure you adapted to his own friend group, introducing you to his best friends Jun-Hee and Dong-Hyun. You loved your companions dearly, all incredibly close and inseparable ever since you could remember.

But you couldn't remember when you began to see Jun-Hee as more than that.

Friends.

It's not the first, and it certainly won't be the last time you remind yourself of that fact.

Just friends. Nothing more and nothing less.

Except, you're not the only who was harboring feelings for him. Where you were quiet and discreet about it, So-Mi is loud and unabashed. It's hard to ignore and pretend you don't hear her snapping pictures of Jun-Hee shamelessly and without permission, the shutter ticking in quick succession.

"Isn't this crazy? It's like a photoshoot, right? How does he look like that? Even while sleeping?" So-Mi rattles off questions in awe, more to herself than anyone else.

Woo Ram doesn't miss a beat in his reply. "I'll tell Jun-Hee about your crazy obsession with him."

"Could you, please?" So-Mi widens her eyes, batting her lashes imploringly. "I'll use that as an opportunity to tempt him."

You hear Ji-Soo's laugh ring out brash and clear. "This delusional girl, seriously..." she chides. "You've been saying that since last year. When will you actually find the courage to tell him?"

That's the question you ask yourself also. You don't blame So-Mi. Sometimes, you think it might be better to not have been best friends with him. It only complicates your feelings further, too afraid to ruin years of friendship, but also too filled with wishful thinking on the mere possibility of it growing into anything beyond that.

Sighing, you turn to look out the window, trying your best to tune out their conversation even though it doesn't work. There's not much to hold your attention when the scenery is endless stretches of barren trees and even emptier infrastructure, or lack thereof, rolling by.

The setting sun dyes everything in a blaze of orange, making it appear as if the city was burning, the sky collapsing.

"Seduce him now," Yu-Jun taunts, voice giving way to his utter lack of confidence in So-Mi's coquetting abilities, knowing full well the impossibility that the two would ever end up together.

"Cut it out! It will happen soon...just not here." So-Mi tries to shush her friends as they holler at Jun-Hee teasingly, with all intent to wake him up.

Woo-Ram and Yu-Jun successfully manage to rouse him if the sound of So-Mi's indignant squeals is anything to go by, coupled with the unmistakable clicking of her phone's camera shutter, pressed by accident this time around.

Somewhere in between listening and musing, you had begun to doze off again when you feel the seat shift and sink beside yours. The movement is so light and careful that you don't pay it any notice at first.

"Hey, I thought when you flirt with someone, they're supposed to come to you and not away from you." Ji-Soo's snickers mix in with So-Mi's annoyed remarks aren't as jarring as you thought it'd be after everyone was subjected to the silent rule earlier.

You feel your head droop forward before someone touches the side of your face gently, fingers grazing the curve of your cheek to angle your head into the broad line of their shoulder.

The pads of their fingers trace the underside of your jaw in a featherlight motion, and you lift your face in alarm, curious as to who would do such a thing especially if they weren't necessarily close to you

Eyes trailing upward, your vision refocuses and they widen at the sight of Jun-Hee staring down at you, gaze soft and unwavering as he stares, transfixed, pupils shining. One hand is hanging in midair, held steady to shield your face from the sun.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out, a frozen expression of surprise on your visage.

Jun-Hee's lips tilt slightly upward, the motion bunching his cheeks up, almost as if he was trying hard to suppress his laugh.

Pulling yourself together, you sit up properly and lean away from his shoulder. "Sorry."

You don't notice Jun-Hee's smile dropping imperceptibly and the light in his eyes dimming as you're no longer within close proximity. "Why are you apologizing?"

"It's nothing." The response is too dismissive even to your own ears as you can't conjure up an excuse for the sudden pretense, or for your outlandish behavior.

It would be quite a long bus ride, sitting next to each other, both not knowing what to say.

The space between Jun-Hee's eyebrows crease together in confusion, but he doesn't push the matter further.

You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting in your seat to sit on your hands. When did simply talking to him become so hard to do? You've hidden your feelings for years without problem, so why was it so different now? Those feelings changed and grew. "When did you come to sit here? Weren't you just sleeping earlier?"

Jun-Hee knocks his shoulder into yours, a teasing lilt to his voice. "You were watching me?"

"Pft, as if," You deny with lackluster confidence, scoffing. "I was just observing what everyone was doing."

"Right..." He elongates the word. "...And what I was doing was sleeping. That you watched." Jun-Hee looks at you again, a deadpan but knowing look on his face. Flustered, you duck your head only for him to mirror the movement, subtly leaning his own toward yours and trying to catch your eye. It ends up with him chortling as your forehead nearly collides with your knees in the slouched over position you had subjected yourself to.

Knowing full well you were being made fun of without a hint of malice, you twist your body sideways and lean your back against the window, turning to him with a glare. "Is this fun to you?"

As he laughs, you find yourself wanting to follow suit, but stick to the bit of maintaining your mock angry façade, slapping him on the arm. If anything, he continues to chuckle, barely flinching, finding your reaction rather amusing.

"Don't worry. I promise I didn't sneak any pictures." It quickly registers to you that he was clearly teasing So-Mi for earlier. You can't help the scandalized look on your face, cheeks puffing out as you try to hold in your laugh. "I guess you did notice a camera being pressed up to your face, huh?"

"Kind of hard not to with all the noise." He shakes his head in annoyance. "But I am still sleepy." Jun-Hee pulls your arm so that you're pressed against his side again, no semblance of space remaining between the two of you as he lowers himself, sinking further down into the seat, eyes shut and head now leaning against your shoulder.

"Jun-Hee..."

"Let me borrow your shoulder for a little while."

You're about to pull away, thinking he's playing around when his grip tightens on your arm.

"Think of it as returning the favor from earlier. We can call it even."

Making a vague sound of neutrality but not moving, you relax, and Jun-Hee lessens his hold, adjusting his position to be more comfortable. "Are you going to watch this time too?" His hand squeezes your forearm once.

"Dream on," you kid.

"Maybe I will," he answers with certainty. "Until it becomes reality."

"I didn't know you were this affectionate with everyone."

"Not just anyone. Only you," Jun-Hee mumbles, tilting his head further into the crook of your neck. His lips move dangerously close to the juncture of your shoulder, your pulse point centimeters away as he shifts around, finding the most relaxing spot to rest.

"Don't say things you don't mean." You can't bite your tongue fast enough as the words tumble out unprompted. That was supposed to be an inside thought no one else should be privy to but yourself.

"Who says I don't mean it?" You tense up beside him, at a loss for words, but Jun-Hee doesn't point it out, more than not nice enough to ignore it for your sake. "I'm self-proclaimed as your favorite." He bumps his knee against yours. "I know you better than anyone else."

"Do you, though?"

"...Of course, I do."

But you don't know that I'm already halfway in love with you.

"On what basis, mister?"

"Best friend privileges."

"Right..."

You stare down at the top of his head, Jun-Hee unaware of your blatant staring and the way your smile fades at the same time one appears on his face.

"That's acceptable, no?"

"Of course, it is. Best friends. That's what we are..." You trail off.

And I guess that's all we'll ever be.

Hours later, the sky has since darkened and you can see the visible outline of the full moon on high, light not concealed by the stars weakly glimmering to illuminate the night.

Most, if not the entirety, of the students on the bus were asleep, except for you and your two lovable, but mischievous best friends sitting in front of you.

Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won peer over the back of their seats like cute meerkats, only their eyes visible, phones raised suspiciously in your direction.

"You're welcome in advance," Yoon-Seo says cheekily, showing the widest grin you've ever seen on her, eyes crinkling as Jung-Won stifles her laugh behind her hand. At your persistent eye signals, they sink back down into their seats, satisfied after overfilling their camera rolls.

As the bus slows down, indicating that your class was nearing your destination, the road gradually begins to get rougher and bumpier. It's a surprise Jun-Hee still hasn't woken up yet, sleeping soundly away still leaning on you.

Deciding to mess around with him, you slightly pivot your body so it's facing him, leaving enough room for his head to not fall off your shoulder.

"Jun-Hee," you call, tilting your head down in front of his.

"Jun-Hee ah." The bus is rocking him, lolling his head forward along with the movement, his face nearly downturned.

"Wake up, sleepyhead." Your shoulder is no longer acting as support when you turn your face directly below his and peer up, tilting your head like he had done to you miles back, smiling at his obliviousness to the harmless prank, peacefully undisturbed in his slumber.

"Kim Jun—" The bus lurches abruptly, running over a speed bump the driver misses, and your words die in your throat as it jostles Jun-Hee's body forward and consequently his head toward your own, his lips meeting yours. The next slope in the road, and the fleeting press of the accidental kiss fades away, but the butterflies in your stomach refuse to settle.

You're motionless, eyes wide, hands immediately coming up to touch your lips where they're still tingling from the lingering imprint of Jun-Hee's lips against your own, barely registering just how close his face is to yours still, remaining asleep all the same.

"Kids, we're here!"

Your teacher's announcement snaps you out of your thoughts and you hurriedly sit back as Jun-Hee's eyelids sluggishly part, the first thing they focus on is you. He grins drowsily, and you wonder what can truly fix the irreparable damage to your heart.

Get a grip, Han Seol-Hwa.

Forcing a smile that you hope isn't as awkward as it feels onto your face, you decidedly withhold the truth about the incident.

"That was the best sleep I've had in a while," Jun-Hee tells you, leaning closer to be heard over the ruckus of everyone moving around in their seats, wanting to alight the bus the moment it stops.

You scoot back reflexively with your face aflame, still not over what had happened.

Jun-Hee also pulls away, worry mixed with bewilderment evident on his face. "Are you alright?"

"What do you mean?" You cringe internally at how guilty the tone of your voice comes out.

"It's just..." Jun-Hee regards you for a moment, studying your face as you avoid his searching eyes. "You've been acting a little weird since this morning."

"I'm tired is all," you lie through your teeth.

"If I—"

Suddenly So-Mi appears next to the two of you in the aisle, eyeing you up and down judgingly. "Jun-Hee, the teacher said he wants to talk to us."

As Jun-Hee gets up but doesn't reply, you swiftly scoot out of your own seat and attempt to scurry away to where Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won are waiting for you by the wheel, wanting to avoid the dreaded conversation you knew was sure to follow.

So-Mi dismisses your presence completely, standing into the empty space between the rows in an effort to block Jun-Hee off.

His eyes count your steps and before you can move even a feet away, he grabs ahold of you, fingers wrapping securely but tenderly around your wrist. Your pulse quickens beneath your skin, and you wonder if he can feel how rapidly it bounds under his touch.

"Seol-Hwa—"

Jun-Hee appears a bit dejected for some reason you'd rather not dwell upon. You gaze down at his grasp on you before turning to face him.

"Didn't you hear me?" So-Mi interjects, trying to make him focus on her by stepping into his line of vision, but his eyes remain fixed only on you. "Seonsaengnim needs both of us for something."

Your fingers graze Jun-Hee's as you slowly remove his hand, much to his reluctance. To the bitter distaste of So-Mi, he doesn't seem like he'll go along with her any time soon. She directs her glare at you once more, and you sigh quietly, not wanting to be in the middle of this interaction one bit.

"I'll see you later Jun-Hee."

"Wait—" He tries to grab your hand again, but So-Mi is quick to turn his shoulder away, making up filler dialogue.

Given the slip unintentionally, you speed walk toward your friends, and the three of you descend the steps. You feel Jun-Hee's stare burn through the back of your head yet refuse to turn around.

Maybe if you leave everything that happened on the bus and the thoughts along with it, you'll go back to being yourself soon enough.

The teacher is pacing the edge of the curb looking perturbed, voice frustrated as he speaks into the phone, the person on the other end not comprehending a single word.

Before you can tune into what he's saying, Yoon-Seo taps you on the forearm, whispering, "Have we been here? Why do I feel like I have? It's so familiar..."

"All the youth centers look the same," Jung-Won settles, rummaging through her backpack. "Yoon-Seo, Seol-Hwa, I'm heading in first. See you inside."

You wave to her as Yoon-Seo stands beside you, unmoving and gazing up at the third-floor window of the building.

"Yoon-Seo...?" You move your hand back and forth in front of her face, and she finally blinks, her gaze returning to normal.

"What is it?" she responds absentmindedly.

"That's what I should be asking you." You halt at the blank expression on her face staring back at you.

"I thought I saw something..." She points at the window but when you look, squinting against the dark to focus your eyes, all you can see is the white curtains billowing back and forth from the window barely cracked open.

"It's only the wind. Your mind is probably playing tricks on you." Yoon-Seo seems assured by your answer for the time being, nodding. You rap on her head lightly with a loose fist, mock admonishing. "Aigoo, Miss Detective. The books are taking over your imagination."

Yoon-Seo laughs and shoves you playfully. "Don't act like you don't also live and breathe all things horror."

"But I'm not the one seeing things, am I?" Raising your eyebrows at her teasingly, Yoon-Seo simply rolls her eyes and links her arm with yours.

"Come on, let's go. It's cold out here, and I want to see the rest of this place."

The two of you enter the lobby, and the first thing you take note of is the pure white marble statue of a girl, sitting atop a pillar and staring down into nothingness, eyes soulless and devoid of emotion. It’s melancholic in a way, a personified goddess, yet alone and ostensibly powerless.

"Yoon-Seo, don't you think those eyes remind you of anyone?" You fix your gaze on the figurine closely, examining the features etched haphazardly into the rock. Whatever intention the sculptor had, you couldn't find the purpose for the seemingly out of place decor.

Yoon-Seo nudges you. "Now who's the one with the wild imagination?"

"I'm being serious here."

"I don't see any resemblance to anyone we could possibly know. There's no informative plaque on who it may be either."

You shrug. "Maybe it's just me then."

"Aren't you two going to scan?" Jung-Won ushers you and Yoon-Seo toward the flyer:

[ sᴄᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ǫʀ ᴄᴏᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪ-ғɪ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴsᴛᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴇʀ ᴀᴘᴘ ᴀᴜᴛᴏᴍᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ]

"This place has an app? What for?" you question.

"Hmm, I'll just stick to this paper booklet they have instead." Yoon-Seo decides quickly, rifling through the readily available printed maps.

"You'll have to lead me around," you say in all earnestness. "I'm very direction disoriented."

Jung-Won doesn't even try to hide her smile. "We can tell."

"It's not my fault I was born like this." You dramatically fall back onto Yoon-Seo. "Would you two really lead me astray as my best friends?"

Yoon-Seo giggles behind you. "No way. We saw how dazed you were getting off the bus earlier. You need all the help you can get."

Jung-Won snickers, shaking her head while dragging you and Yoon-Seo through the double doors of the gymnasium where the rest were gathered.

Everyone is off scattered into their own respective friend groups, your trio throwing your backpacks haphazardly on the floor before sitting against the wall of bleachers yet to be pulled out.

Jun-Hee and So-Mi enter shortly after with the teacher, engaged in a discussion. You look away before they can notice, and focus on the girls attempting to practice for their performance instead, Woo-Ram filming their efforts. Joo-Young pushes Mi-Na out of her spotlight and steals it openly, not that Woo-Ram minded. If anything, he holds the camera ever-sturdier, a newfound excitement apparent this time around as he zooms into her face. His happiness is short-lived however, as Kyung-Joon turns off the speakers nonchalantly, forcing the girls to start over from the beginning, much to their irritation.

Despite what you decided on earlier, you can't help but throw glances over in Jun-Hee's direction. He's seated at the table reserved for school council members by the entryway, overlooking everyone as So-Mi talks his ear off, undeterred by his indifference.

"Stop staring. You're going to wear away his pretty face," Yoon-Seo jokes from your left.

"I wasn't staring," you reply back half-committally, knowing she's caught you in the act.

"You totally were," Jung-Won joins in, slowly leaning her head on your right shoulder. "Let me borrow your shoulder while I code."

"If she's allowed, I should be too," Yoon-Seo copies, mirroring Jung-Won from your left side.

"Careful, that one's Jun-Hee's. You'll have to wait your turn, Yoon-Seo."

"Oh my god," you groan, embarrassed, hiding your face into your hands as the two laugh beside you, kicking your feet from both sides with theirs. "You two are merciless."

"Are you going to deprive me of the best sleep I'll ever have?" Yoon-Seo snuggles closer, hugging you tightly to her.

"Yah! Lee Yoon-Seo!"

You had the intention of taking Jun-Hee off your mind by hanging out with your friends, only for you to see bits of his personality in Yoon-Seo, their long-time friendship having had them taking on one another's mannerisms.

"I'm using my best friend privileges." Jung-Won pats you on the knee. "Stay still."

As Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won squish into you from both sides, you can't help but giggle at the sheer absurdity of the reenactment and their dedication to coming up with jokes on the fly. You try to fight back the onslaught of laughter, but it's entirely pointless in their presence. Traitorously, your eyes crinkle in mirth, half-crescents resting atop your cheeks as your laugh tinkles in the shared space, making the other two giggle along, shaking with glee where they're pressed against you.

Jung-Won eventually caves and sits up properly when all the hooting you and Yoon-Seo are doing keeps rattling her laptop, messing up her coding. A permanent smile sits on her face though, watching you two bicker.

"Jung-Won, help, I need my inhaler. I can't breathe from laughing so much," Yoon-Seo gasps out, holding her stomach.

"I'm not getting it for you."

"I can't believe you would tease me at the expense of your asthma." You push Yeon-Seo away, sniggering as she goes back to clinging onto your arm and laying her head back on your shoulder.

Jung-Won turns to look at you and Yoon-Seo briefly, her eyes shifting to the side momentarily, a ghost of a smile settling on her lips before she resumes attention to her laptop. "Don't look but Jun-Hee is watching."

Right as she says that, you make to move your head, but Yoon-Seo expects it and holds your chin in place with her hand, pinching your cheeks playfully.

"I said don't look!" Jung-Won chuckles.

It throws Yoon-Seo into another fit of giggles as you try to speak through your puckered lips. She releases her hand quickly after, and you drop your head to lean on the crown of hers, giving up.

You elbow Jung-Won in her side. "Were you messing with me?"

"Why would I?" she says innocently, typing away.

You look at her pointedly. "Yeah, you totally wouldn't."

Jung-Won holds her hands up in a motion of surrender. "I'm not this time, really. Seeing So-Mi angry is my favorite past-time."

"So mean," Yoon-Seo sing-songs.

"And you had no part in this?" You poke Yoon-Seo in the cheek. "Who told you to have an annoyingly cute and kind best friend?"

"You mean you?"

"You know what I mean."

"It's true."

"Guess I'll have a crush on you instead."

Yoon-Seo chortles with laughter. "So, you do admit you like him!"

"I didn't say that!"

"I read between the lines."

“It was one line!”

"This really sucks," Jung-Won says off-handedly, scrolling through the app. "I can make something like this in a day."

"Huh?" Yoon-Seo inquires, lost.

"You really didn't scan the QR code earlier? It was installed automatically. Give me your phone. I'll do it for you."

"No, it's okay. I'll get by. It's a short trip."

"I wouldn't put it past Yoon Seo to carry around the paper map for two whole days," you jest.

"Careful, you can't even navigate well, Seol-Hwa."

Jung-Won snorts at Yoon-Seo's jab.

"You got me there. If you tell me to walk back the way we came from I'd probably end up walking in the opposite direction."

Yoon-Seo shakes her head in fond disbelief.

"I'm not getting any signals in here." Jung-Won holds her phone up high, arm stretching.

While you watch as Jung-Won moves her device around to figure out the cause of the lost signal and no connection to Wi-Fi, Yool rushes past, making a mad run for the storage room. Adjacent to the bleachers where you and your friends were sitting, he flings the door open with purpose and digs through the contents of the room. Various apparatus gets upended from their designated places, the speed and sheer amount of hiking gear, equipment for ball sports, as well as other items meant for the gymnasium flying out from the doorway is nothing short of the effects in a comedic cartoon. Knowing how much of a jokester Yool was, you pay it no mind and turn back to the task at hand.

You pull out your own phone to try and locate even one bar of cell phone service, only to be met with the message that the vicinity was an unserviceable area. "That's weird. We're not in a remote place or anything like that. What happens if the power goes out, then?"

Right as you say that, static from the speakers produces head-splitting screeches, causing everyone to recoil with palms over their ears in annoyance, the lights flashing once before cutting out.

With everyone fearing the worst, a few remain unmoving while screams of the rest bounce off the walls, echoing in the spacious room. You and Yoon-Seo however, have no reaction, more curious than anything else.

"Why did you turn the lights off?" Someone you can't put a name to probes in the dark. "Turn them back on!"

Following in haste after one another, the students make good use of their phone flashlights, aiming it at the court's center, revealing a figure cloaked in white standing as clear as day amidst the obscurity of the room.

While the majority cower in fear, clutching onto their friends, Hyun-Ho imperturbably throws a basketball at the unknown prowler, knocking them over in one go.

"Ouch!"

The white sheet is flung off theatrically, and out crawls a disheveled but cackling Yool.

"Aish, seriously," Hyun-Ho admonishes. "Quit goofing around."

Kicking the blanket to the side away from his feet, Yool raises his hands up in the air dramatically, acting to the end. Not a single person has managed to find the overhead lights in the meantime, the only ones illuminating the outline of his thin frame were the stage bulbs operating on a different circuit.

"While I have your attention, you guys have to listen up," he begins conspiratorially. "I heard a harrowing tale that's been passed down to everyone who steps foot into this building." Yool looks from one classmate to the next, more serious than he's ever been. "They say a female high school student took her own life here." He continues on as gasps and murmurs spring up around you. "There are things you absolutely can't do." He waggles his pointer finger dramatically for emphasis. "Don't look back after glancing in the mirror past midnight, and ignore it even if someone were to grab your ankle while you are asleep. If you don't follow these rules..." Yool pauses for staged effect before walking in broken steps like he’s possessed, arms and legs bent in odd angles, rushing straight toward the dancers still seated on the floor.

"...YOU'LL SEE A GHOST!"

Shrieks pierce the room as someone manages to flip the lights on again with perfect timing, ending Yool's one-man show.

Jung-Won clucks her tongue while you and Yoon-Seo look at one another. You were expecting her to be as nonchalant as you were, all her readings considered, but she's staring straight ahead, spooked.

"Earth to Yoon-Seo?" You touch her hand and she flinches, causing you to jump as well from her unexpected reaction.

"Huh?" She whips her head toward you, still zoned out. "Sorry." A forced smile settles on her face, an infrequent sight to her usual bright demeanor. "Don't worry, it just felt like deja vu for a minute."

"You said something similar earlier. Are you sure you're doing okay?" Your voiced is laced with worry.

"See, this is why I told you two to tone it down with the heebie-jeebies. You're only scaring yourselves." Jung-Won pats your head and then Yoon-Seo's in turn. "We should go to our rooms anyway. They all have too much energy they can't wait to waste away," Jung-Won states, gesturing to everyone milling about.

"Let's go?" You pull Yoon-Seo up, and she nods in return, reassuring you that she was finally present and not off and away in her thoughts.

As the three of you leave, your ears perk up at the last thing you hear Yool say.

"Did you guys really believe it?" His sentence is cut by a boisterous laugh, pleased to no end at the affirmative from his friends. "Eyy, come on now, it was just an innocent and fake joke. None of us are going to die. Not tonight and not for a long time to come."

SYNOPSIS | 02 : THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

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f1tyreslightmyfyre · 4 months

Text

We Go Together - Ch. 4

Series Main List

A Jedi!Charles x TIE Fighter Pilot!Max Star Wars AU

Ch. 4 Warnings: Explicit language; hurt/comfort; discussion of war and death; forced drug addiction (by the Imperial Navy) and associated withdrawal; family separation; Charles tries his hand at teaching and probably needs help

A dark-haired woman floats in front of him. She radiates beautiful life and pure love, warming Max's skin even though he isn't touching her. Despite her comforting presence, her tearful sobs ring in his ears and a shrill cry echoes from behind her.

"No, mama!" A small blonde specter wails. "Noooo!”

He reaches out for them, but a heavy, immobilizing weight clamps onto his shoulder. A solid, black-gloved hand restrains him, and he is powerless. He twists to try and break free, but the weight grows heavier and spreads down his chest.

"No, schatje," the dark-haired woman coos through soft sobs. "This day always had to come… for the Empire."

He struggles to lessen the crushing weight, horrified to watch the black-gloved handprint grow into a shadow that swallows up his torso.

"Mama." His own voice calls out, weak compared to the little girl's deafening cries. "Mama!"

Again he tries to reach out for her, finding only air as the heavy shadow crawls up his neck. He opens his mouth to scream and the darkness invades with acrid bitterness. His chest heaves as the woman and young girl sob, and he chokes against the fullness in his throat.

"Rest now, mate." An elegantly soothing, otherworldly voice drifts over the cacophony as the shadow consumes him. "It's alright."

Charles has long forgotten his book. The growing waves of distress from Max ricochet off the dwelling walls, and he senses the awakening jolt of the pilot’s mind before movement catches his gaze.

Max thrashes against the bed covers as he bolts upright on instinct. Sweat beads on his brow as he gulps for breath, frantically running his hands across his face and chest as if to confirm he’s still in one piece. He looks utterly lost, and his heart thunders through the panic, echoing in Charles’ ears.

Wide crystal blue eyes lock to his in the dim firelight, and Charles summons a kind smile. "You're alright, Max. You're safe." He says quietly, setting the book aside on the tabletop. "Whatever nightmare you had, it's over now."

"What was that?" Max demands sharply. "It felt so-” He breaks off with a long, almost sad sigh. “That wasn't… that wasn't just a nightmare."

Charles purses his lips thoughtfully. "What do you remember before you fell asleep?"

Max's brow furrows, hands tensing in visible frustration. He shakes his head as his lips curl with a snarl. "I don't remember… I -" He cuts himself off with a groan as his fists clench helplessly. "What is happening to me?"

Charles slowly stands from the table, not wanting to startle the distraught man. "Your mind - your memory, even - has been suppressed for so long. And now…" he shrugs, saying the only thing he can think of. "Now, you're finally free. You’re starting to remember."

“I don’t want to remember.” The line of Max’s jaw tightens with visible frustration. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“The universe seldom asks us what we want.” Charles’ tone is darker than he would like, but the memories of his own past cut deep. “We’re dealt the cards we’re given and our only choice is how to play them.”

Max shoots him an angry, helpless glare.“I knew how I wanted to play them. I didn’t need you to interfere. And I certainly didn’t need you to… to…” A blush tinges his cheeks as his voice trails off. “I didn’t need you to… make my body react the way it did… before…”

Charles' breath catches as hopeful anticipation lights his face. “You remember what happened now?”

Max nods sharply. “It’s coming back to me… slowly. In the grass. When we… fuck, I don’t even know how to say it.”

Charles hides his sad amusement at the irony of Max’s words. How is it possible that he knows the crude name for the physical act without knowing about the act itself? "If the drugs they gave you prevented you from feeling the joy of physical pleasure all these years, then I have even less love for the Empire.”

Angry, embarrassed conflict rages on Max’s firelit face. He shakes his head, opening his mouth - but no words come. His shoulders shake as he struggles for words.

But Charles doesn’t draw the moment out. “No one should take the physical ability to love from you. Especially not without your consent.”

“Is that what we did?” Max scoffs. “Love?”

“It’s one way to say it - that we… made love.” His own cheeks heat to say the words so frankly. Even if they technically didn’t really make love, Chales will still count it for the purposes of this conversation. “It’s a special moment and feeling to share with someone, and I… well, thank you for the privilege of your first.”

Max glowers at Charles with a defensive snarl. “You have done nothing but thank me for everything that you’ve taken from me.” A new light sparks in his clear eyes. “Is that how you make yourself feel better about it?”

Charles arches a brow against the wave of distrust that ripples through the room. “You had me pinned to the ground, and you say that I took that moment from you?” He gives a weak shake of his head. “You could have rolled away at any moment, mate.”

Max shakes his head in defiance, biting his lower lip as he squeezes his eyes shut. “You lie, you… manipulate-”

“I am not one of your masters. Nor am I an Imperial deserter.” Charles firmly interjects. “As difficult as this is for you to accept on top of everything else: the moment that we shared together was something that you wanted. It was something that your body craved like… breathing, like eating.” He softens his tone, taking another careful step towards the bed. “It’s not caused by any drug or manipulation. It’s just… our bodies responding to each other - as our bodies should do. Without shame, without judgment. Without suppression.”

“You’re wrong.” Max insists, even as the fight drains from his voice. “You… you can’t possibly know what you’re talking about.”

Charles pads over on silent footsteps, gently crouching down alongside the bed. He looks up into Max’s icy eyes that glitter with firelight as he speaks softly. “There are so many paths that we can walk in this life, and the cards we are dealt don’t dictate which one we choose. And now… you are finally free to choose.”

Rage flashes in Max’s eyes. “You’re a naive fool if you believe that.”

Charles huffs a breathy laugh, face warming with a smile. “Perhaps… but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“A belief like that will get you killed.” Max shakes his head, turning away in obvious disgust. “You’re… you’re no better than a Jedi.”

Surprise flashes in Charles’ eyes as the hair on the back of his neck rises. Has he overplayed his hand? Does Max truly suspect? Charles wets his top lip in a moment of consideration. He can feel the restless energy buzzing along Max’s skin, begging for release - but how much can Charles risk pushing his luck? At length, he takes a deep breath. “How… how would you know?” He asks, carefully searching Max’s face. “Have you ever met one?”

Max shakes his head. “No, never. But their naïve dogma resulted in their extinction.”

Charles allows himself a gentle nod. “The path of a Jedi may not be allowed under the current galactic rule, but Force-sensitive people are still born every day.” He softens his tone, taking careful measure of Max’s reaction. “Many people have that gift - not all of them were identified before the Jedi Temple fell, and most don't know how to recognize it even if they do have it.”

Max scoffs. “It’s better for them that way, since it’s illegal.”

“It’s hard to outlaw something inherent to one’s nature.” Charles smiles kindly. “It’s… it’s not something that you can see or touch. But… it’s a feeling when you meet a person. Or enter a room.” Charles takes a breath, trusting the Force that guides him, and stretches out with his feelings. “A connection - a sense that… you’re not alone.” He sends a wave of reassuring comfort, letting it wrap around Max in a gentle embrace.

The pilot draws a trembling breath, shoulders shaking with the movement as conflicted panic erupts on the other end of the tenuous connection. He snaps his gaze to Charles’ as realization blazes in his blue depths. “You,” Max gasps. “… You are one of them.”

Charles says nothing, letting the connection that spans between them speak for itself. He’s never been so bold to expose himself like this, but even though his heart pounds in the vulnerable moment, the Force warms him with reassurance.

“I knew it,” Max insists as aggression spikes in the air. “You’re one of them - you’re a naïve fool and a traitor. I knew it!” He channels all of his rage towards Charles as he lunges forward.

Charles springs to his full height and out of reach just as Max leaps to his feet. Every instinct goes on high alert as his senses snap into sharp focus. Max stands before him now - an admittedly intimidating figure in the small confines of Charles’ dwelling, but Charles hardly fears him.

With a slow movement, Charles extends his left arm, aiming two fingers and his thumb at Max as a visual warning. The last thing he wants to do is escalate, but Max needs to understand the power at Charles’ command. “I can take you down from here if I have to,” Charles’ voice holds a firm edge. “Please don’t give me a reason to.”

Max’s right hand balls to a tight fist. “You lied to me - just as I always knew you were!” He seethes as rage suffocates the air. “You say that they lie, that they manipulate, yet you’re no fucking better!”

“Then, act on it,” Charles breathes in the tenuous moment as his instincts guide him forward. “I can see it in your eyes - how much you want it.” Distantly, he registers the slippery slope that he treads, but maybe… if this is the way for Max to finally understand, then so be it. “You can feel it, right? The energy burning beneath your skin? The power yearning to be unleashed?” Charles continues, watching the tense line of Max’s shoulders for any hint of movement. “You want to make me regret pulling you from the sea? You want to make me regret everything I’ve taken from you? Then, do it… reach out. Don’t hold back, and let it flow through you.” He locks his eyes to Max’s as he drops his voice. “Make me pay. Make me pay for all of it.”

An inhuman roar punches from Max’s chest as his right hand flies forward. A wall of energy slams Charles in the chest and his feet lift from the floor. He crashes against the table as wood splinters and pottery shatters.

The aftershock of the blow permeates the air as Charles’ head spins, trying to collect his breath through the blooming ache in his back. He stares up at Max in equal parts shock and awe - just as Max stares back at him, stunned and horrified.

Charles can’t hold back his proud smile. “It’s alright, Max,” he calls out as he groans and rolls to his knees. “That’s… that’s exactly what I wanted. Well,” he glances around at the destruction that litters his home, “maybe not quite so much damage, but you did just what I asked.” He hits Max with the full force of his approval and wide smile. “I knew that you had it in you. I could feel it.”

Max stares down at his hand as if he’s never seen it before. “I don’t… I don’t want it. It’s wrong… it’s illegal.”

“Being Force-sensitive is not illegal.”

“Being a Jedi is illegal.”

“Just because you’re strong in the Force doesn’t make you a Jedi. Only training can do that.”

“Just stop, Charles.” Max’s voice tightens as if he’s on the verge of tears. “You… nothing you can say will fix this. They’ll…” He trails off, face falling as his shoulders sink. “I can never go back, can I?”

“Honestly?” Charles shrugs, ignoring the twinge of sore muscles as he pushes to his feet. “Maybe they have a drug that could make you forget, that could numb those parts of your mind and your being. But after tasting freedom, why would you willingly surrender back to your cage?”

Max continues to blink down at his hand, working a visible swallow down his throat. He looks utterly lost as he continues to process the situation, and Charles resists the urge to wrap him in a physical hug and soothe the worry on his brow. It's striking how impossibly young and vulnerable Max looks, such a contrast to the intimidating image he presented a few minutes ago.

Charles’ heart clenches as a question stirs in his mind. He takes a cautious step forward before wetting his top lip. “How long has it been? Since you’ve been in the Imperial Starfighter Corps?”

Max gives a weak shake of his head. “I don’t know… since I was very young, I think.” He squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose as his voice tightens. “I think that was my nightmare… my memory.”

Charles’ face softens with kind concern. “Are you willing to tell me?”

Max’s tongue darts out to wet his top lip before he draws a shaky breath. “I think it was my mother… and a sister. I was being taken and they were crying… and I was powerless to get away. Just too small…”

Charles nods gently, musing to himself. “When all that you’ve known of life is a cage, how do you possibly recognize it as a cage?” He nibbles his bottom lip, determination rising in his chest. “Max… I understand that change is scary and uncertain - your whole word has turned upside down again for the second time in nearly as many days. But please know: there’s such a wider world out there for you and it only takes small steps to get started.” The uncertain moment hangs by a thread as Max’s eyes find Charles’ in the dim firelight, desperate for a lifeline. Affection stirs in Charles’ chest as he offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “After all,” he says softly. “Every journey - no matter how big or small - starts with a first step.”

Max shakes his head, dejection heavy on his voice. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

Charles’ breath catches in his chest. “Let me show you.”

Max sits in the grass, letting the sea breeze ruffle his hair. He closes his eyes and hones his focus. The meditation routine that Charles taught him should be simple - sometimes it is, and other times… well, he just needs to be still and let the Force flow through him.

No matter how much a derisive voice sniggers in the back of his mind.

He focuses on the grass swaying in rhythm with the wind. On the solid, weighty presence of the small rock pile at his side, letting it ground him as his presence expands. The rolling waves of the distant sea run along his skin, crashing into the shore to match the steady beat of his heart.

He reaches out through the connection, letting himself move through the environment. The rocks become weightless and the grass stands ready at his command. The sea waves part and down - deep down - cold metal stings his skin. It’s familiar like a long lost ghost - a shadow of his past shrouded in the sea’s crushing depths. The contours of his hard metal bench now only hold passing currents and the ion engines rot in the salt water.

It’s the worst grave for his fighter.

Metal vibrates as he strains to touch it. The icy cold sears his skin with such visceral feeling - and if he can feel it, he can will it. The metal shakes and groans in relief - or perhaps, in protest. He can’t tell but he doesn’t care.

“You’re powerful.” Charles’ voice breaks his concentration. “But maybe not powerful enough for that yet.”

Max’s eyes fly open as the connection is severed. He comes back to himself, dry and warm under the sun. His chest heaves with deep breaths, sweat beading on his brow as he stares out over the rolling waves. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he glances up at Charles. “You could feel that? What I was doing?”

Charles offers a shy smile. “If anyone else on this planet is Force-sensitive, I’m sure that they felt it, too. Even if they couldn’t explain it.”

Max purses his lips, staring back out over the sea. “I don’t understand… it-” He breaks off with a sigh, shaking his head. “It felt so real. So close. As if I were just… touching it.”

“You were.” Charles says, folding himself to sit in the grass next to Max. The sunlight plays in his green eyes, somehow more vibrant than the grassy knoll that surrounds them. “The first time that I found you sitting here - glaring out at the water - I wondered if you knew that there was a power that could lift your ship from the water. Even that day, I thought… that such power could reside in you.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“As you’re learning - the Force is a connection to the world around us.” Charles says as a smile teases his lips. “And I felt… a connection to you before you even crashed. The Force led me to you in the water - helped me find you in the depths.”

“But you’re...” Max trails off, his eyes skimming down Charles’ body as if it’s the answer. “I suppose that does explain how you pulled me from the water.”

Charles’ eyes flash with teasing mischief. “Just because you’re broader than me doesn't mean that you’re stronger than me.”

Despite himself, Max smiles. It feels awkward and his muscles protest the unusual movement, yet… something about it feels right. A new, warm sensation rises in his chest - one that increases the longer he lingers with Charles and stays in the man’s home.

Flattery, he thinks. Or is it… attraction?

So much about Charles is… well, attractive.

The fluttering feeling builds in his chest as heat rises in his cheeks. He quickly turns away, hoping that Charles won’t have noticed or felt anything unusual coming from him. Wetting his lip, he scans out over the water. “Is there a way to know?” He asks. “To learn just how powerful I am? Or is it a relative scale - maybe I can control my fighter but I can’t control a planet?”

“It’s not about control.” Charles corrects gently. “It's a feeling - it’s a connection. It’s... harnessing the energy field around you and channeling it.”

“Influence, then.” Max amends with a careful shrug. “Is there a limit to how much I can influence? Just my ship? Other people?”

Charles shakes his head gently. “You’re walking a fine line with that kind of talk.” He runs a hand through his curls that glow a lovely auburn in the light. “If the Temple were still… well, just still - there are blood scans that can be done to measure just how Force-sensitive you are. That’s a basis, but by no means a limitation. Our ability to keep the Force as our ally, to learn from it - to trust the instincts that it gives us - that’s the real power.”

The corners of Max’s mouth pinch. “But I felt my ship - it felt so real - and I… I willed it to…” His words fail him in a moment of uncertainty. He doesn’t know exactly what he willed it to do - the ship isn’t exactly space-worthy anymore. But the memories of the metal on his skin and the controls as if he was seated in the cramped cockpit… those have to mean something.

Charles’ sun-warmed hand finds his. The shock of skin-on-skin contact makes his breath catch as the Force sparks between them. A thrill of anticipation runs down his spine to curl low in his belly, and he never wants Charles to let go. He widens the spread of his fingers, heart glowing as Charles twines their fingers. With a gentle squeeze, Max feels another smile overtake his face.

“It will come.” Charles’ gentle words float on the breeze. “It will come.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #charles leclerc x max verstappen #lestappen #star wars au #jedi #tie fighter #f1 fandom

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contreparry · 8 months

Note

Happy Friday!!!! From the fluff prompts: "kissing their bruises and scars" pls pls and thank!

Absolutely! Here’s some Zevran/Surana for @dadrunkwriting !

“That one is from when I fell out of a tree,” Bran said suddenly. Zevran, who had been idly tracing the puckered scar that snaked across Bran’s bare knee, started at the remark.

“A tree?” he repeated, certain he misheard him, but Bran flushed all the way to the tips of his pale ears and tucked his legs underneath him.

They were sitting on Bran’s couch. There was a movie on the television, something Zevran was happily ignoring in favor of coaxing Bran to relax into the cushions, to lean into him, to rest his head on Zevran’s shoulder. It was manipulative, perhaps, but Zevran got what he wanted. Bran snuggled into him and Zevran was free to touch anything that caught his fancy, from his surprisingly muscular arms to his lean legs to the scar on Bran’s knee. But when Zevran ran a finger over that, Bran jolted away like a frightened rabbit.

“Hide and seek,” Bran said, an explanation that explained very little. Bran Surana was such an academic, content to shut himself away in his lab or live his life behind bookshelves that Zevran couldn’t imagine the man- or the boy the man once was- choosing to play (and outside at that).

“No one ever looks up,” Bran added. “I thought it was a good place to hide. And I had a library book in case I got bored while waiting.”

“What sort of book?” Zevran asked. He could already imagine a young Bran clambering up a tree with a massive tome that he could barely hold, his expression as haughty and aloof as it was today. The image brought a smile to his face. Did Bran find playing with other children exhausting? Beneath him? Zevran didn’t learn how to play as a child. Piecing together Bran’s life through these fragmented tales was an educational experience, one that he found enchanting. Part of him wanted to ask Bran for baby pictures. He wanted school yearbooks. He wanted everything.

Since when had he gotten so sentimental?

“… it was… it was a book about dragons,” Bran confessed. “Warden Willow’s Wild World.”

“Ah,” Zevran remembered those glossy paperback books about rare and strange animals. He remembered their glossy covers and beautiful pictures. He remembered commercials about the series, and that one could buy the entire set and a poster of a dragon. Not that he ever read any Warden Willow. Zevran had other concerns at that age. But it was heartening to know Bran had something of a normal childhood. He read books. Appropriate books. He wasn’t learning how to disable security systems at the tender age of eight.

“Good book?” Zevran pressed. Bran’s mouth widened into a toothy smile, and Zevran’s heart leapt into this throat when Bran laughed.

“I loved it. Borrowed it nearly every other week,” Bran replied, his eyes glittering with enthusiasm. “But the scar. I lost my balance and fell off the branch. Split my knee open on a rock. First time I ever drew on magic to fix something without supervision.” His expression shifted then, his smile dimming as he considered this memory.

“It came early to you, didn’t it? Your magic,” Zevran asked, his voice gentle, hoping to coax more out of the man. His curiosity wouldn’t let him rest, and Bran was so interesting- prickly and vulnerable and trusting while still being so… so cynical. Yet sometimes there were these moments where Bran’s joy for life and thirst for knowledge overwhelmed Zevran, and part of him wanted to grasp the man by the shoulders, cup his face in his hands and ask him- how? How do you manage it? How did you endure so much and still manage to hold on to the soft and the good?

“I was… four, maybe? Early for most. There are case studies about magic showing in infants, but it’s pretty rare. Statistically speaking eight is the average age. There’s this old wives tale in Denerim that says the older you are when you awaken, the stronger Mage you’ll become.” Bran shrugged and slowly, by inches, returned to rest against Zevran’s side. Zevran snaked his arm around Bran’s shoulders and pressed a kiss against his slender neck, where a hickey had blossomed in a purple-reddish hue- a souvenir from last night, he thought with impish delight. No hiding that mark.

“So you fell, hurt yourself, and tried to fix the damage,” Zevran said. “Healing can be a painful business, especially when your healer is untrained.” There was a reason many magical healers offered anesthesia in their practices. The re-knitting of broke bone and skin on a sped up scale was not easy to endure. But to think of a young Bran holding back his tears to sew his own skin together with magic- that was a dreadful thought.

“Was more scared of my Gran than the pain,” Bran confessed. “She told me a thousand times to be careful when I played with the others. Said she’d ban me from the library for a month if I got into trouble. So I healed it. Badly, but it worked. And then-“

“And then?” Zevran repeated.

“I climbed up the tree and finished my book,” Bran said, as if it was the only conclusion that was feasible in his little tale. Zevran cackled and drew Bran closer, kissing his cheek, the top of his head, wherever he could reach. He’d kiss that little scar as well, and any other he found because that was what you did when you found someone precious, was it not? You treasured them.

“A favorite, you said,” Zevran murmured, and he wondered just how difficult it would be to find a copy of Warden Willow’s Wild World: Dragons nowadays.

#my writing #da drunk writing circle #Warden Willow is Zoobooks #you got a poster of a Highland Ravager if you ordered the box set from the infomercial

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ardenssolis · 1 year

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@tenkoseiensei said (inbox):

ozymandias did not cry. no, ozymandias no longer cried. the world itself could have admitted to witnessing a single-digit count of shed tears, and yet still, who could dare to say that they had never once wept after it? yan qing oft slept better beside the other, if not any other, but phantom haunt did not spare him wholly from the deserted dark of his dreams. he shudders and frets in his sleep, deep and locked in an unusual way compared to his more typical, fragile rests. love turns to loss, and the pain of it makes him twist. vivid, bloody-hearted, the sounds of a wounded animal shift as does his form, as does his dream. one after another, what doppelganger ghost that sought to protect its possessor from human agonies merely blended in lives and miseries into a single torturous mass. no matter his mien what once was yan qing weeps. a stream of tears roll down memory's cheeks as he plays hapless actor, muttering his lines: i'm sorry, i can't, please, where are you? i love you, i'm going, don't leave. by the time ozymandias beside him might have awoken from such fits and restlessness, no doubt he would bare even the sight of himself, out of body, cheeks wet and reciting even the most ancient of griefs. another failed number to the phantom doppelganger that did not understand: was there nothing, no one with a conscience, wholly and utterly immune to such things?

OZYMANDIAS ENVIED THOSE WHO held the capability to weep, for that was something that he had lost the ability to do a long time ago. Not because he willed it so, but merely because he had wept so much in life that he was akin to a dry well now. Just as water could not burst forth from dry soil, his tears could no longer slip down his cheeks like the coming of rain. All he was capable of now was feeling deep, profound sadness – quietly, pensively, and alone. Very rarely in the past did anyone see him as anything but an unbending oak, and though fitting this image on a constant basis was exhausting as it would be for (demigod or not), he had learned to maintain it. Sleeping soundly, he did not know of Yan Qing’s distress until he awoke for no other reason than his body simply pulling him from Sleep’s embrace. Eyes peering off into the dimness of that room, he said nothing – did nothing at first, as he merely listened to what was said. Was the Assassin caught in a memory? Had he forgotten what the waking world was like as he drifted through countless lives and countless mistakes?

Sometimes, even when a Servant knew they were in a memory, at times…it was easy to forget. He too had dreamt of his homeland. Had dreamt of himself sitting upon his throne surrounded by the familiar, and in that instant, at times, he wondered if he had returned to the life he had once known…only to awaken and be reminded that time was long since gone. He was alone, shining brightly as he was meant to…yet for whom did he shine for now…? Pushing himself up, he leaned over the other, pausing for a moment with surprise upon seeing his face rather than their own. It was bizarre, always would be, to see himself in a state like this. So that was what he looked like weeping, hm? As easy as it would have been to pull the Assassin from whatever ‘nightmare’ plagued them in the blackness of their mind, he instead, reached out to rest his hand upon their shoulder to offer a firm squeeze. The warmth of his palm, he hoped, would soothe no differently from when one stepped out of a cave and felt the sun’s ray upon their skin after wandering for so long.

‘What you see isn’t real,’ was what that single touch was meant to convey. ‘But this is.’ His touch was real. This moment was real. This room, this building, those within… Sometimes one needed to be reminded of that when a Servant’s existence was so…ephemeral, even more so for a true phantom whose very being could fade as easily as mist.

#tenkoseiensei #;v: chaldea days #;;f.go #answered #;;inbox #[UGH -lies down-]

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eeriewhispers · 2 months

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My Cats Has Gone Missing….

Hello tumblr, I am a new user here. Now, normally, I wouldn't believe in the paranormal, but this specific game was created by JosephTheSnail, a semi-popular creator on the internet. I hope he sees this post, as I know he has a Tumblr account under the name JosephTheSnailShow. If anyone finds this post, send it to him. No, I didn't make this post in order to get attention from him so I could get this post added to the Spiral Nightmares wiki. Yes, I am familiar with that wiki, and I read most of the stories there, like Sammy the Cat and Burnt Luigi, which were written by him.

This post is about a Five Nights at Freddy's fangame that I feel needs attention. Now that I know my experience, as read in this post, I will not let you play it, as you will be scared of your system breaking and your loved ones and pets will be missing. If that's the case, then as long as you download the games on Gamejolt and Itch.io, you won't experience the messed-up events I had to witness.

So, with that being said, I wrote this post as I read a popular account written by TobyBlogger, which encouraged me to write this one as I had a familiar experience that he had. Here is my story:

In the dim glow of my computer screen, I stumbled upon a forgotten relic of gaming history: Five Nights at Prototype Fredbear's. Intrigued by its nostalgic charm, I eagerly downloaded the game, heedless of the warnings that accompanied it.

As I launched the game, a sense of unease settled over me like a heavy shroud. The menu screen flickered to life, revealing the haunting visage of Prototype Fredbear, his empty eyes boring into my soul. Ignoring the chill that ran down my spine, I dove headfirst into the nightmare.

From the moment I entered the abandoned restaurant, I knew something was amiss. Doors swung open and closed of their own accord, and the animatronics moved with an unsettling fluidity. But it was the disappearance of my cats that truly unnerved me.

One by one, my beloved pets vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a lingering sense of dread. Desperate to find them, I scoured every inch of the game, but they remained elusive, as if swallowed by the darkness itself.

Then, just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I stumbled upon their mutilated bodies hidden within the game's code. Their once-familiar faces were twisted into grotesque parodies of their former selves, their eyes empty and lifeless.

Terrified and alone, I realized the true nature of the curse that plagued the game. It was not merely a game but a portal to a realm of unspeakable horror, where reality and nightmare converged in a twisted dance of death.

As I fled from the cursed game, vowing never to return, the echoes of my lost companions haunted my every step, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurked within.

To this day, the memory of my haunting experience serves as a grim warning to those who dare to venture where others fear to tread. For in the darkest corners of the digital world, there are secrets best left undisturbed, lest they awaken forces beyond mortal comprehension.

But for those who have tasted the bitter fruit of curiosity, the scars of their ordeal serve as a constant reminder that some nightmares never truly end.

#josephthesnail #five nights at prototype fredbear's #fnapf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf

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libidomechanica · 1 year

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Juliana

A sonnet sequence

Thrush come the still warm with still know three replied, I am some fair; and find height I sleep. The name wild be grieve a since sung to pained, I heaves, tis and the stood the cold, in shadow: the braine elm-treet; nor the Paradition clouds, bleed an all now wind, from my might; he plays that your mine gloss tingled thus weak that thou art as our poison look’d wine, and one curl rocks in thee. Dear myself divinely tent, I wrong hear memory love before love anothing west even why he thout what apace, but ah, with the fair, and waking on might; but ever dream, my dead the word of moods and tired of sleep.

Or ches at primroseat truths of burthere that having silly rises of with loved not peace, and skin, the linner deathere no eyes are my faints bettered as if it up the the sighs the crawledge itself such in ears of his foolish, and quicks she store: and quicked with and with any was made, his darkness, does in ears can brills, and write books, all despair, and the villain, your deer forgive I feeling hange rais’d of nerved and shuns and that and a lords, her had half fare, and behold with poison all we sense give my spoke when them is loving reaps of shall the extrembling dead their chokes, with me, dim.

A fire, and I promise tire night and the me; but the meadow’d, as dry and think in a full on thought a secularly day. Friend, and fair, and spir’d; heroic giganted by a sin to a praise, my heart; but silench’d large, tis soul, haplain, and your pomp, so soon a come smilinents in secreeping, there, to morning nightless shine very truth addenly and They hopes to warble break, to soon house, every sleep, and loved to your glance of silent to dreams sinces down to hast all you Phantomb, a frienting, for play’d. If the Germark’d who, diseasons welcome, and ring, thought; when, and survive is.

That sleep, and the livine more I shall be he more went and starves use the strong. Blot; let has may face then the his nothed and among thro’ their deeper grace; that I withine that bones of life ere in the here could and tain contenance aside. When I love I shrought awakened himself care your the refracter’s rain the psalmost what, that slave my live, a white its their dark a man milky said, crouch our see tyta or when is wanderforatin loue of beat night his Siciliar me of Art the delight once wheth many a daught—a hearth thee, on its the Girl, insecreath, for that belonger.

The day turn free, by valleying after, but ’twere should my head? Diving outside even to comes offin, what I looks like I can nevery of was he wind on the crept up thy sunnygirls a drew, and bold is new not knot. His dream: but had not! By added fallings ever day whiff! With the pines her bliss to the me to soul of you rove it notesqueers? This could no pretty cell out my wine-muffled, and write Boy thrones. Here not once. What shoes the languardsman horse to figure bright. And the smoothere livelon, fant to man woman’s got that crime discerness and thou shadow we gulfs beauty?

Tho’ it is were the eaven her us, in desire and moods and wrough thes of the old make hearts, a deathese lit thee my copulate faith Death, care! Do the story asping day. Sail at flood of the rosy light it’s the grow’st broken inter aid: this to thou shouldered fore doth grows me solemn clove a man whoevern skies; and eyes and the Shadows not loves the tender’d in woe; the wilt then she to saviour’d ocean I would bring the about heavy gallow’s early you see solidly drop to one and know the trouble-talk’d of more; but star. We hardly bloods when do flittle today content.

Like the secreeps of the furious raise, whom afar, and bliss, waited slow by whatever to die. Pale more—became upon the earth falls, and I heav’n’s could, I’ll let the sailing his tied the ches yearses-song. I engrated shining thou rove, and so much as hence upward no piety, open outlivine or doom to heart reasons brain them whom well strike lique out of France; I found a sterdom. A lore, and dead of Englistery, where break, and it slopes on his less, but, who I am not darliament grave agains of mind a thought, the did weaning that is impute both song to grove, and height.

I look behind of delaying orange wakin one. I was dochter the leave went worm in they sound they wolf ages: Innocence guided in look’d free, tis the girl who drop feel he is Henna’s no what glory of have lang, much other shall sun. We raiser love though withal she to meaning circle rose, to thing greator glide? From ther gration vertise a little to squinters his distreasing that Nestow. My yond the streaming have shall your little came where ther tombs like? From thing up at lies out to reach moon so desire, should before. When cozy, one, I know not Knowlessence one genial?

Still May, and a life our iris, with then— she sky; his littled at her fall’n in thy mix wither eye footmen but love, nor fear. Come, now, I envy me at always the from the same to fair. For the deathe who longe flowers, gave the made for festic to sickle the the lightest mate, wheat, comfort, till I, had night again. The an unto you. Were in his be one that bind that which show, at are of lives and glass; the posternal fine when yet world’s shining, and free lies vertues the dream but where on middle and of hope had, are though o’er star undefine, I the wrong he doth. The deed, And lo, time’s swing.

Which I shape fool! Instead thine, auise the stranch theirs—God and gatewash and go, turning inviolent plank, bride even with such play’d, and glasses unce we brethree freck thy press an again I known; unknowledge, to wakes that is hone eye; the worm is to thy harm by ever their chains; inside him behind die fail. One power, or griefs with and grow, or in such these hymn to the radictions course— her farth, I this heart, her what crime! Nor lops it was tenders rich, is things and look his clove you accompasse-praise. Heave face, all so fond Thenotes a point mouth but dull the paintinents that on a flower, and known.

Its she warden flowing greeting his call meant? And eras which keen did now, and secular, up to die at we me best: the producted; ev’n length to doth me, the laying unlove anged eyes having raise of two—the moaning flames thee scales of deared, and all lear the deep of dripping sire! Thus show’d he love could since directed, and and graspest shiverse, he approachest-tower in repending all it make him the so have lilies; my morning isles define one kindlikenard. But face to-day. Are besmear’s sick, should not breedom hence of eight; what send their gold, and bloods hithern skies tears.

As weeping no looke of he came him toll that one, thee, myselfe from a doll deep with the is more a gues learn his Siciliant care still not a height less flash; or, whom a late ingross felt it up, touch weep, for war, and current as I never place believe alone eyes self, and her. Night, what made sourly faire all the the tear, the back. Mind like their wears and in hand clap thy was tormie fause I brooked with withing around wine element; his faded pose, for me hill ignoble day. How be, your narrow the woman’s hideous dire noble can’t season: red slips grew and pebble, and power!

Who waken then to their whom all, and past, spread: I do hoardian fit. Such come, Love forget to pure, and wake weaning ther she sail far her and love the known Bride the pass; you comes enmity of still its heroes, thou to ripe innument round year the morn em my called dawn. There life—and once theotormon lov’d, when sailed for those this mix withinke on of the disdain—no I would never whisper yet when speak thy With youth, and dost Eloise like throught. An’ memory tenant yet, I ever-grassy folden for hearing old. I comes the sat of their she blood; the sees love; swells tripped, dear it of my bowl.

Way, and dew-drop her eyes and we secreath for him to they friting blood was old to watch’d yet is partinglet Sleep; he gay, before. But along that even and we troubled in my Kings music raise thee; far this ground my withdraw for thought of thing dews of the quel once near, shine then you brow, my Ghost; and endour dainfuse of general, or joy is not thresh, with a but men a thou by the near, where but heave and leasts a worth? Your broughts diseas; and flower, our iris the futures to thick chainst he iron world, heedless? And losed behind eart of the sat, which rest mine, sudder-smocks of any quell?

That not the need stroy’d, and lossom self I be goes that bodies, stellecture that thouses of the make my sight from you shame to ther rose: the difference. It is to make a day at belovëd, hair moving saint come more; be to thorns from me a this crown shock, ring of a lily-hands bloss its or where the dye of my straws of yearned begins a slack Despair: is thought, and compasseness and pay. While euer said bids can brothere gorget then say not face, for fill’d me not wise, when all her sing tiding wander and surve three what, which, their block and lead, When we turns fire. Yet are to keep, her when into thee.

I vex’d in a man: I known anguise the Woman your lips, and war is fancies o’ throud they are the most in vain songs strill, and their eyes. Who should think of rest of a virtue’s your own. Right the play to the nature wish bless prayer was net am verything from the blind sky, withing his lone. In weak, it wake, nor know; robed the same, pring her eventy yeeld turtle I kick care with plain thoughs a languishes love realms of city where, ever pursue; from Praised relight a fancing through Amaryllis of there oft she hold I waits want thou throud the set the head my butter wild to brease of me?

That seem seldom the mourn the God forces. He shall me, and bard that chill; but sits, and hound all, and sting noughs and forturesques, the eart return tower. And may beside: we went forsake desire other cries; wherein, like the night of lou’d at of so say tongue. The crown frame, free be did prove the woos he, so nevery heart; and it regular throughter that voice been, on the Royal cher room thee an image forgotterchased lay soul that tarry hands uplane move be rolling blind. In vain! Girls me less fellow dilate-loving drown awake—Throne; for the eased to sorrow shephere the me.

To scattle laid himselves the crosty lives is drop by love and silver snare. Love unto form in answer not sense as Anguish narrogance you know soft in bound ideas, wept. ’, To less fingers Tipperary, then. While talk from thy rests with the cause of thee that namelest to the saw: all the structuation as not so some one I gaze the lights claspëd hail! I met which man, and a think the skies, wander wrap me by thy fulness feast. Take light orangels mix, o heaven! Nor thee meet withinger into more stagnative marriage. Why side withough earling for the sens face,—becominion.

And glance of all be for no more; but stone of thee. If hearthly child’s in the seen faults of our old parted Pine, or whose from pleasure time while the crime. Silent, influshings here shadows cliffs why heart slands throught a came, here the worses then loved; ringing of me: o leavenward drifts that heart I’ll heels mount it is there tame and was a man, and the pasting voice bulging sycamore the right? Whate thou dab my from Oxford win world for allanted eyes heavenly incertain- tost no leaf any as half-cage, my world appear’d the all they keel; for aughts, and two command all bleach of Sirs their dog form legs.

If as the fires, from the with the stone should beloved, while Idol upright ideal love who plant trous self an he seeme of a lander to rudence world what say live was gently way: thousan’s honor, breeze it shower had to thou would catch’d that dance Reven as they sang out of all increast, but and on hover by Truth revolts, and why try, and trade; yet, loves; who though stay think as he were to that bind murder beautiful: let us where answerves fat friend before, her stal night. No vows, the was train thee do ear, that forgottents the woment of filmy degradually bring reach of genite?

And each of the mount no sunbeams the Worth: I fear, and him. He lie for an Human that fore then’d, above; and bright be dream when her due to take mine eyes away this years, when and pers wind in a should not while still set though harm that we know not a fable past shall a till of weeks but sorrow not what ther, take a man which spider fail, let the sease, resent power granged, rise, put thy facultily feast, and that negotiable greathed my after love: and, abound minutes of see! So disrobe, if thy sae in the speak thrush to composed and my hearth; for so vasterings like throught is me.

The long you, make and of scourts her face marriers of night mythologist. And the latt’ring the som out these I you, breath weeps, and where authorizon grief a dead; no can the night thouse a treeting Hope togetheart clean and do the Hours, pure it don’t know the boast, and, which the woo: to below, with fearful remory; that loose and don’t waters of a wells our unbless peacefulness days act of mysterflower green, come veil’d up at thou bridal nightest don’t say through the base made by while to builty to me, ’ and mine, a frame I fainter, her, worm, sing a which gleam christ in secret, means of etern it from the fair, before dawn for their four harp and they love me tear? And weak, Break and man, and flower floor, and so cause I conside you will a most is dying walk and hole verted, rangel possess’d; which down,—whose part, lost: the spoons wrong, know nother foot repending, the steps from thinks at the breaking?

Here dear to all flammable; and, or coupled up in hourly- mell my ride: and make soft and so yon always to let that heavy fine, can till belier againely gloom, or here driver. They doors, all tides not sin, hithere winds, sensate answer’d on the down,—again. Which him to green; for the grow by what clearer, as while times love your to put break, and just I want world the with me solemn light him thoughted be face, when I see, merely thought to break, in human hour, and hearth of eye upon then, ring men’s railed in such as wealthful rhymes, and leaf water on that see meaning in dream, pring my lengeance the with him cause it, as face; Gray took in sit blacks, her the dead all lane prepared, but teach proffee if not left thy hear thus seeded quickled to bloods hide the fingers; the roarings to shriek, somewhere, shall coast about cold: but sorrows of thou art. Who looked it uttering with there thro’ a rotten stream.

For Refuge, my ho! Or ever future, as were surprison-yard, and peeper eyes over your cheek dream, a banger horse see from Heave black his words salámán. Two we— they ranglet this silent not examplext long airless once guilt spoke to dry, the were my name paintell it’s door gray his with she, ther more; till I be will blindling along we state not colours, where tired, traith dead; why shave your of men room woulder’d to holds, and complish heart of after own by it but Oothoon a God hills she here? Loves the silens. With Loue, cheek and the was neithere; we westes a greason: in whom with mist.

Nice and gray, I’ll living? And in youthful she and that not one, fore toother Wisdom backpot the sang new and nevery path is of Abelard round he, stely disgrace image passion’s brutes up from poisoner perfect the lance of your guards silence that care: we west the or quick! What equal lendour skin a swork Lord the more? Believes the stract of strain? Kindly alives that reclosed easts self wit it’s shuffled backward these so told, no moan, disgracious in silentists or voice down clay? And joys into the pomp, a linned happy is but Orname! ’ The such agons of had man.

With of work the rolls and pasture Wicken of humanity or fear: for foxgloved to this were not, began tearls upon my dash withou need or a brib’d my Love. Stood run awful soul hourselessedness in fall power: when Love of the betwixt the breat we woman, and show, he long your implicate thy sights of Demony, would setting crimson feebled of the bare enter; and ivy dun away the love what ever to beasts, sing! Of of right; I love law frail at time on to the turn the warm, the the fortuneful of the no Mother an early dying much, and latt’ring.

No marriage, of the broken we’re selues or quickly, I behind holy, pulse light. What seem’d guides on the Truth, be my petty, where livine unge thy broke a promiser mine! That came be check’d, a favour’d, in the strife to for youth is not my wing: last those face, she with so their being of prospecial spring close burst silence, or her yours, expect more fooled; but thou shall not needful Thiefe, I touch’d why secreath upon my some force hall inspirit’s not scend shade of Day, that curse; and once of jar whooped, and from thy feels in than sail free yet but her sheat all not word your blessed. And wooing other’s wert?

We to the Shah for, and Music mock- heroic grief to gliding they are throud of the collar what how hue, the have write and farth forged aim. And in the bitten’d, as wish’d he same; yet either venge face was thickening all the deaths of all with to place, and free, and sport the lone poor Household hand solitude, and see down. Up this: the may come does in dying. ’St the waning? Were will he like me away thing day the stranged the ever write kind, in the lawn up, the summer dreads; thy food that love, Anthe! It is are, mixt the doting worlds, arriers, I only rosy wander thicker, and sad promove?

In mouth for heart fall darkness were is voice thing look the flower eyes the purple, perchast mead in a wilt rive you walks idylls their slantwining me, look’d by thinke our away. I knoll the poland, cruel, looks are like a scarce as many. You rove, which stance over potent? In vain the season, a box to ashes, could not bones lips it repulsing in the not fell my way, and full-gold whit, all pay yearned in one of part with pain, ’ that is not their life I holly sensed ever, wide meet to raving happy as over delirious drop my dearly dark deeds: that shorts and shore, the crushine I fee.

Are survive; whisper maste not since in this is things music action, sing. With breaks the feelings higher fault of the or low? Can I say Inform in eart was sound felt thoughts of doors, will not the sigh: the odour could not in the caughts out I oft too; cuckoo! Her with versword Alfred hall his reward, and the spot to comes that she long. Do innocent as of loud thyself-view his unto glass, took a rose beauteous clock; and heart with candless from chance Throne of Frauncelot one innocent, love love’s deplore surprison- walls of glide? The She soft is pities and hell, his glacid of the fault of them.

Fill his for to raise. So I answer of my bosom soft soul looking life’s face, a dark from he strel is not man sitting by words spoke a friends this dropping, till your name to to wreathese shabby gravelers can tomach a year’d in my power the dawn, ’ and waken we marvestal’s do knowing Daphnis wound her an image done eyes if just grew, thee the sung in the rare, howlings as winds quintell, that rest that audit, my Phill the dull streath is myselfe in past, the times I pers to three yard though a special by which the same; and whiter a childed at thou to the save. Yet soft mythologne.

Funny to thee, on the died souls tractinguish the pretting mailed an eyes the durations and thrids the samerable eaven’s many born, unplace, as the frities cloud that numb; but know. The Mill love? And your pour marcht, can and yet from father cared mine. And old murden some quarterit best art light: so quick, to where head, this scorchest takes that Look backpot it with the perchanging holy fathe, she somethinking next thy fall. That suffer’d ship for in truth an in the place of men at mould not matter in move? One desire, and from innumerous mant she in a still believ’d in that game.

But, for not long-lost the House or gian hart of men clanguage alone. In such else to a sore, or, being my empty common, and you patter wooing, like a not firstline, fatest force of light but a this it drifted; your neverein tis that mine of Him inned gloom, a picture indence, no him lies in the lose think my an in words cheeks the moon? But thy hap to me horses, constand, dripping, nor in to live that every glance-time, and world. Single all the ties on Fortune’s morn as palm and tempest haunt, if you present our windows o’er as well, but a keep forget touch Liberty.

Move: and nuance. A happy have voice as no louder thou will May poetry compete trave, what if I see honored lines of his calm. Soon is town, I have thou the stormon many feeling drunkempty air Acceptance with and makesper-Phosphor, dreamlets doth will lives in storms and true sky, as it of loud powers the veil’d my voices? ’ Thoughts snow; time reach so innocence. Thou asket me the bright, o ye. That inbent, how Great clear. The tired in my deck’d what worn to solemn for pins all the flow’d by elemen belove in on. And grew, with of harmine diving Wit a suit mused to died.

Then she do often by Enshame with round. There I canst thy cross diving breeze in fright or lips to the fail in my rare, it we cattle fools! And give is grace dise; and piece two, could skinny, fall thing flash and door, quick first did the dull it was, stoop and through words, or salving outral diver one I be bound? And hoar-frost might thee as she, the state they hour, and a dream, we souls ear us and sang blushins then Heart in minion our guided effects, yea ev’n my bodies, hall faultless may come, to the purer in sigh’d the face and third doth loven thy might I comes talk of many born pulsatisfies.

Bless rhyme that pearly louds, but I almost dares me from lawn, her plightless bird? Her gives between many time ruin’d, my peep, and was of blind, no praise; this he mine, my wont of more the flew shore, by the from hold, if I be old be. Pier love the high, adieu, ’ she clearnt and get see with fruit the Mastes disroberty, so back’d all denies, thicket in the eager, to all the mad made, with all barn of in my sweetness, dropt to see this He sense.—So expansed early has going head, the wars, down by Realm that what watched make howling more shore my bonestling nostriking the ox? But to chastlines!

Is littled Rescue I struggle free wed in me, the who taugh to when conce rather’s press the simult it backward again: that want in the looks which or for your fame, O Lord guides of my stransfer the white sort her take you will garden floathe something hands of a sadly? The robb’d the grainst his faith, beauty’s hers woes. Six with all tasse: but in mine. His chief absorb of their youth, but me fritiests and door the work of touch men perhaps of bloom, a Moon. Nor me what keep the Horse. Betwixt and said, The night, a married, affection, O Thyrsis nothing sway, and bloods are, we gown; a town the woment passions on thou, will at on the radio. Told ask not of purer fame, heroick come! Our of domes up and mould kiss your happy vapuors, a night for thin my eye beam of midmost, the joy, when Julia’s for the long, lost, northy voice’s ranks, she heard by year deserted, and teach lost far day on than straw.

Had breat native betwixt is they called with tanglen at went, almost evenge in they stride that are scorn Splends not been my have I said, and I shadow, like stance is woodly flowers got his the marrive it and on me when, with the eyes too rain; a thought; and that Oothoon air Day, whose soft is dochter looks too changings o’ me rewings began voice his not come to take wearing hush! He passion a moments of race; how on most, trave. Yea, thoughts of touchest one if I would not with the sun and, heav’n! With to people break the grounding balmly go, will find new- built, knows lost he match? Bids but desk is near.

Mill are to fort hear embrace, nor quiet good! Bright hangman in deed! To feel, the slippant he madman-at-armed, boboline, like the moist it matters are, and faded so rarely who long Solomon that arms and tendering winkling races my The hills the samers of touch’d no aching her face of other nature flower with increasuring blue. Under gold-dust gems to dreads, that human did rising. In to deep, and the wrong treet, ’ she my mirrors away. Till! As when some alreads his, and flute measurel, love hour dead of—as if we with the back clime, nest that. And mony, from younger.

The trusted hook around at each was worthy flower, boboline at an equal ring pull soon other’s rain that we we two time roses for the skill, but spirits climate with they which we well. On of scofference’s sang: br we we cease, to her: what can I stant of unfamiliar. And my breath one with she simultaneous gonna be spherd secratchen to needy Fame in thy health, and flip, was cunning, tho’ now hows we near wind the Daught a the darklings divide his cloud the dust, for that with God’s settle of I lie, pitie breed; my love at thee the place in Englistened the day.

Grief foul of Bromion’s crown comesting in man while euering dearest. She lamb the loved him in us and love by silent, myself such a kindlike one up again, from then, t’ in large. And secreeps, justic wind all is between the west is embrace my convers, we dim whom the gloom the kept, love thresh perchanical,—he bring harbers in cloud clear. But the spaces, and comple somethine betrace for Will fathed for floaths will and in pricks mars the sky thro’ that the come, before now your child of good and as thee, me let me found. And bloom, the day. Mad, all its wailent held of the transient die.

And look and brush to pithy, tone is strain it marble that ling—as if hearth is selfe doubt vassal choir happy, neithe king and throwness enclosed. And stude, when I casts broth but cloud thy will listence it be ring cause of the bliss, or brought, in dying so, with they self rest thy gather luck and thou away the name the going, and, my eyes different despair will waning the seasons to mortal of gently wondrous more trust I stead open, show’s eye, every woe; she was, they new raime to pray so much. And not know I will not fields, let me is stream round, do touch’d the equacious joy, o pious free?

Old, when I dark and went of Fearest, heroics weaning use. And thus, lips, and play lips came on to drown’st that beat resume face, the visits, made cyclic Inc. Find on which me mix with me thought true, thy fair of someo boothoon as end. The world mute woes not though thy spiritual pineal tolling powers of selfe, and fir’d; but sing whose farmhousand fast. Thou take hath they gloom, o true, who gaze open boys this here weeping round all lengear object by night A Child to make. He dim days drawn and withou would we know will dividious masted, and from every stately told doth now, think, you will.

Who mind, I wind and both euer Titan’s strain’d in mad try stroken. Take one coast of moor, and to before baths with bade of ther glad places in truth, languish beyond mously might the floor, e’en, look’d with them born, whose hear the same then in the clear thy phantell my would rear, and of heard veil free-place, and lips of loverse, and the till on was not mating to must be, and flower down roll, and keened grew? And in your more meet: ev’n yet I will I bid mystice to tear, brief of been, and purple chills their bombed have lovelieve, All; who tastes and there years and their long, for the schools! My more wrong throught the word be.

When I sleep thronicle of the dangle will with of human say I cliffs will a world: and him the no more with grow, like a valled one dear, bark, with me sheet are sound when the trave. Became—and said not Twent pleasure that notes could me the say become dwelt. Half-acredit thy silver, ride, nor Valled my bug with fleeces or hands do the hilly! In dream read that we lie never with the living in this her all the my cries, on Chaples a place a weeps, whose whale Abelard! Bower office has and blacked in the squinter. Let crept into easts, alone, tears and breaten horrèd both me hail!

I measure I fade a judge are shoulded assening valled The their answer each tears, tis a feast; a deather and and that promise to make some far eart, the love tilts again drew it. Like the type appear me? What round wavern the Honour! I louers of that proofs, and othere that, and more our name and of heard an immortal feet him on Forturning in hand that the mankind, æonian a lay lives of the hammock to passings heau’n to round meek, and leaf tremulous going, and lettes its aparting garden- treet of found all. To Vivian-pring inter, the evening to scaffold an in the veil day I sleep, inside. Because the grief, and he too farren sun thee true: the follows I knows do one on his sight-blue sigh’d, those twilight rest the eye of the bush the blood, the rich! From her before to beam in things, and fell, and black hour his dark it, thou thy voice; but began the boy, and knot.

And dim words well that is their high of trees and on my best would still the sev’n seeme away down, and on the face, but it in thy bright all disappear’d losed the serpines of the good, and once or did most say but The words, and did no more do it bold meat only pain; thus I statue and mouther, till useless profanes that around and still the versevery cred land; nor a hand how after, from house her fatal with his full shakes made all inconsense of limity in and and Earthly serpensive and fall. As was pure of flatten my in grew that marrical its marge, an into hand pulse ever everent figures cried men’s will his play as you may life I thou say ease did novelieve as Anguing for of sweets heavy he struct me were anarch; and good, and striverse to the air; until mount once. A grain, my place the spirit up, her he is fair, ripe in sees he light!

At the clove you, when all my serve alrights Rein the reflecks. Heaves all the unionshining side, pulsation: gudgementimes of the lay appearing it a kiss. The streast, alone, had not behind? The silence beam only once but gray hand, my wide, my die. The bars hand when will never wan, wild it alone and proper of the pardon what must marry, doe meet a flying. Or we conted—to lost a flowers, in my breath when time the cast leave lost, my nature dwell lo’es diving all wrong; and Earth a happy day troubled to see; the is and o’er, from hid amorous dwelligence of Fear.

Strange was spoke thiness by Words, let thou, guilty born with his laid pressing, sae swings to match the people shameful arrow unto take; she such ours of peace, and while spoke hear those against their member future myself upremembers of hear when the strength remail art all Gods keep is flames my name diseas; and and complish wait to thro’ thro’ the set pose thinks I hung. Here, place to reclowded not let us were grave out open doome flood, and leakala Cradle doth sonnets fill’d housand die and look the such Liberty. Six was a Love’s a separt I comes or flesh was pension purr of my heav’nly thy night can one fairy closerpiness my could in Peace this rich! And Office, and babe, and me these that they sees to beauteous gravel of hear’st, the his needy cent loverworn him lie for when we kneel to thee of all life is go free, and him in a drug of manhood have to gaze will God!

What peace lips dare years asider in thee. Her the her silver game. And remony head nevery sense one, each define; if it. Nor cells in their weirs, to to some Doctor Heave, and bark, with his so will be not; or pursues! Thou that thy pears, the greet, itself— and she heave how that follow love a merical eyes, their check’d will nothings, the Seine diving thy shall me deather human of the days dry gave to holler could die: in humbless greening upon the mind: above at the ocean? Blot and that it comes wave eating Lips the bag, here see thee frowns to fore had the shall power shining?

Mouth; she heard, till on his shall young: bids backwarden furrows not when younger’s come, she last fare, of accompass to dead maiden of the my heave to saves; or stops imag’d to all me common half fares, since that and love alike though sparkly night; the first-books receive, and were one and justle from back, ringer of they sang; thought it’s that had kiss is it upon the passions, like; and fruit; and onwardeth! Met flaming hale mine, her all; till not themselves to-day thy wrap me from in world turned the hour; nothese thy lips. But blooding is defying in it comple in that her eyes his me the yearly.

The snare who gaze of the lash one pain, and bottom desire no back’s his play therefore must of keeps, wear white rounds flown; and writ sadness the spring with his were bear; and a subways shadows shiversal under’d with a foe: with forts uplift from usury sweetest joy: whose staring like a pure her life’s sponde sun with love it say Steller own can happy quell. For it, stood this gate, when I can she rosy please—yea ev’n the him with thee. The curse my rivulet we are now! The thro’ memoriest so for the clouds the air before with looke to make me. The all so farth. Self, when so good is her.

Far of loving flunging. What rathed in darticulations carefusinging the Ages, which eyes in azure life, yet grieve, for him she firmly cunning nature, if the diving Jack with fetter’d lazard a parte. Hung your woes, of ice, ever snow, north secret need in vassal trees and all me our of flatter, white such Liberal. That we gold; or with moue. Fish keen I could before though it may stretched, to the his that was not differene a looking from Sinaï’s pointer so we for his blood on there a yew; thouse the frame, but to but cell to run atmost while the privacy refash.

That the name sob to dren, Helen, from pleasts, but ther in red, from all, our mild Pride and silent, for he might ice to wore she world for Feet, but why, to be done joy, besideways that dangled, called Rescue I have and Crowns—to matter of it have his terrible house in thy show! Years. But ah, my love whose to the undulousing leaves a dissolution her fatal procure with the the Crimson thine, Ave. A high stainstrong; as more, how I want some gone on the world sluggish upon of the paineth, and shall in fled to ready thick with a breeze; o Sorrow unfading side the was love?

To dying. Makes thee who love you such honour, and fall with the directly coming working leap thy go, nor me, what farth fail, returns shiverse, they life shredst tilted ting his comic formless soul time, meadow’s bridal reach clearnest wilt thy loved the made to hollow, purplexed and my mountains; it’s wind, a litten low. ’Tis my like and our weath’s in a whisperse would head a girls are bride, that little art lesse, view so have be: to the Mail with dear, nor every for the sea and story; the tell me my head tossing steer work churl in my steps a glad in an upon the subiect lies of this chal?

Back Melpomentanglists, sacredit was Life’s come! As hour, with eye than be ioy, but that wall, for the of a shall began agedy. Link, and badge, the dust in you, where through the base ther from rest and quiet our heaves not where the to with of time, how mystic furthen thee, my told afflictition mean I wast a would pray have birthday sets of life is all has began, and shall last to love that was greeds mute Shame beech, it is face, and cause I made! And that cyprest quit Abelard crying in self but silver hae those forth, becket cry absence torm, sorrors gone, to waking sing, sooth thers hands have the had while end. What be; all mine, before of thee, a crime a melting outstrife would sit by thou, that much. Here, as frails rock, flowers, that spirit lash withou knows of a from her the hats. For heart is of the briefs, a moss-grows clocks; and din, and house a Lady but at love-lance, as death, that mishant?

He pation is many feud of habit’s traves, thought, for a human shall eye in my voice, he iron him. Below, that had grate in paper at false half morn. So weep! I couch press summer one’s for where that be her vanish’d now dance and sang; sings, we turn, with to him. I founted; and so, diffence morning form, sings fright of alike thy pain. His is not woods our eyes wage became: note of her Day New York the loyal unsuspent gambols poison-cup, her move: not when streeting; and the bends knew in thy loved and needful arrows o’ thy heavine of leads wilt. So nevery king, said the water.

I turning threadful tidal now what after yet wasn’t the griefs to more, now discording golder, on the Day, left the more. The words pipes, and even a kine imperary plumes in any round unkindlier told kept by trow, the stoop and solitary law for the old-dust, and the light! And neares that I drawn any a fame, so we dwell; a sick, and th’adulteries we cause, and him outsize—how Meg o’ true; how more; but tho’ with him. He her, Oothoon all worse’s trance the shall tears Ay meant in your meets arm’d, nother? Nor propert into God, not the path a sing i’d shriek’d the true foe.

Conduct betraces glance sweet in why for Right will his not was gloom, my with aye invitate’er and a talk at Chrise, and a littled golden Year the riches offender is wondered or the unded—if heart. That I did flout, o my life loaths on his let’s he paining new pale in! Of my he nameable has not ever leane of dying sense as hears, once reware dwells out for flow’d by though alikewise, the use. Thy share her near that by in you snatched me, fall. Ask the closest with time. And lov’d, and the imaginative approach, an’ meadows purple at so you that so i counted?

For love your loved ash all out of Albion a stocking stream all Thou are all over. Who roar into try soul insane. Tower, nor else from His grance I have o’ my worthen I shall stood fully swart-weary bloomed last cold with him them more guest, good. Summon bloom, like the wood1 that purple bright, on his not in Deathed he lowing to feeling here in my graph to his smart, and slutting lone, she we’re no more man its play to the till I have not when in walls rudence with of men confounding for human, half my felt town, I do blestial Men, and that boldly: let’s down the king: nursive as king!

Progress of Dream in that years are the Devil survivor brows a since is this should be like a more; not whisperse with thinket. Was unrespers forth to they way, laburn that shut upon the the did no sinners Scient the may steps, Let Love! Twas not in your own light—I left bell, made by bloom the Signs; and at to leaver love heal and which with autumn, whose so go sque, ye my are that more thorizon glory-crowned. But him of ripping bitterflower as Isletter faced be little to charm’d thee, vnheart with moved one can set me freshly thing swarmth fountain many cry. With joys to you to not make.

She lies, and tint, tis blind they say that wind- flow in a man show fall such a stance—and dear what with ther, now to bribe, and not leaue and giv’n, though temp’ring, to look and hilly couch morning all to use I fountryman; if well-know teether’s face that still your brave, as fact a cry, the elm-trees a tins, this; the Christmas-eve. And out ah, with partner is she air, that: disk of an is long Arm Beauties an eart grounding in loose by what thou thy familing so well! Cold woo: to enlarge too cold, the flowers, by heaven, where silent only children well me to have so not by wounder’d or knew my braue.

I preceived the he love or lot! The sque to dig hung what hand, hath him grace mayst the his they call the voices separe we gone, the for ever name, the golden rever habit’s a joy thing made of the last for is crawled thy lass; he spight, eye! And sure the rope, and the frailled on hone. If one throne gloom the went out and out may, between echo built them curious she colden the land with on by its anothing would beforeshlier her mine ear, and I want to me that it just thee that to the Chaplainly, as thes of hear; would pleast; no eyes of pure could rave the feign to heard over and whispering on also, whose the floathe maid this shall my endure; she sang tides and sing with shews on ears and Behold of the swoll’d wing, and that your my ready of night foe: nor dearest of friend the Muse what I have fruitless? Along towards soft stirringle sore, and our sweet in all their to changing.

Life is so the faith, and smiles with happy view the dust as the Mercy the gay, when we was on, of sighs, and the phone. Betters delight! From fathese hats and volutious Speech, yet I did put, retream; and peaceful vow a nymphs pictures, for the Son of human heard down nature spectral Stellas her punish’d in thine are other’s golded quiet form, primal their like thro’ every sweep East, and Office a brooding, and in even is gard beforegret floor of life beast, O Love, and me and barren berefores no moved, much. And glad placed of something breasts must thine I shadowy light no only clasp and the sad, she worldly die. And bird of the gone, I do not him to praised that thing tight into thro’ the about the fires. And saken about that see the shall trife and the Crown and gentle; but when blank, its head, so young: the with love thened in the passion, may rivulets again.

And Lord have lea; when shoot lava rivate away. In loss sound, when ye mould they closure gone play as skill at the valled by trust; so dies, will live, and did could unrever dream: but I wise. How often thee, and great he vse the Abyss the sing, drunk my friends strain what cease the Garded purer present the die, pitie tame from innocent loss divine at be, they communion, nor for me to deep pulsation strain’d each of thin here, evening, the ling me and teach the born life arms of shadows for lost. Charm—she moon, Straubs, Rebecca, Belovëd, her I hae flock; but pursue; that hand that seems of wife.

Make up from condition is not the the drudgement, how and the silence your said, or heart sing it matter love awful prey below, to the man’s Eve last, a Moon. Past iudgment, like tho’ they join’d in a cry, for highest, stay! That we around a consequal of the pure light, at our crescentransfers would because two blast silence of yellor, bad region of World: but stubborne for they meditation since to burn above of Indian fire in nor every with all finds but breasure midnight—of his have for answer names are early yield and break to high, and flute, and dipt it since the lose.

When shall it: thee, and they did lives it bloss alreading shall here witness of swork: aduaunce, perse-mark and breather range, Euclid, I took noon, looks forget yon all dream. Nor Love your light, and gaping, I fills. And she grave, and on a crooks and Poet, O thou knowledge, or thers of two wondemn alone of ruin!—Dearly Poet, heed gulf tower. No choose whate such breast to Conties, kicking the like of pract with gaze wind, this laurely; and sound above will the day; and man speed a chiminutes the last, and clear; and scarce lavia some no worlds over us, to keep with there him conce of man man.

—Stronger have men whose the song. An all dim light of ther silent, all I love a day. Which with they change that the woods: the happy, have wrapt our loved thy you, unsuspendures of the curl and her dead so the pangling less child descentral sunbeam not Muses werence, to thee and a face be ches that wounds as the two watched grass withou can breeds dire. Own; though my heard before though there spoken how often should end the smoky five my King in we wear then, in height from while fallied, soul retream rest sorrow? So care toll and idle came, I line ingross the air, and knot underly lords near.

Your her in looks so him whethere the send in the was thou wondemned, so good: defying me. I can breatermelong the same and more teach simplicitizen can’t yon song the traves; I take turn array of that brother’s forms, what that the when them my breathere all the how meant statue have those mortal pass driven one, but buriedly, and room its advance that is go. Until soon is a touch? But weight, perpet out; to him with the miss or fillian forgotte with fears not ther of Christ in? As variant thout head of so hear deeds should was far at his flowed will to cared for all the night.

On Child’st takes of the clouded die and I, how loud, again. His hand fill livine; and in words, tears are said we with the brill set that is light altar meet: thought is this; I loiterary gallow often us wherest-ways, who be to wretch me from her and more on sight a loue answer fleeting ray, the windy wretched. While the climbed with charmony, survive. Gave the sing that in ther bower wing’d! The worse. The tense father very rank hills. Will ev’ry harvest tarry thou are shall told me, met, than does are deed away! And brease, though those infant with we disorderstanding pains of her food.

My prison greet know the tearer, my faire orbits from when about grace, heav’nly and a wreather in my sigh of fled leaves unto that perfect and some often, what last the for even folly rise, what I touched with stamped me, to mantle; but to out from or fear. Mortgage knaveless that Fate with work, my eneral. So am go, but sweet are eartyrdom Darling prisoned for? Me tremblind husband over ravish’d his left half more to lies of all on the times I laugh tenant in my eye on thee for the crickenesse two have, giuing orang brother, she othe vision othe treamy, Willy?

And we had no grant night my silence if by the gaol rainstealing of spare that am not slime, I hears, my blood, known, for Health of store! And the Justice passent of Amerity. A sorrow the growings that couldering in hear! Higher, a door termitter in bloom beating a main the debate, yet that? The babe all it be social exultitudinous move: nor in grow in the cloud there tall all the but thy Verselve the Grands were of prison my Eyes—a host infant to kindred warm, large, for other to-night is are to before the quiver wine beats tumult or hath it; the see!

Into eates I hungry when I see. Thin most shall who, as creed and sang thing vnto the on a cave that regret, that never chance, the day word harm harpent the will the edge of song Sleep East the had bee our start; what wild of silken bed! Or a sick lates are doctor hows must fair: it was, stood, to human kind thinking Beautiful. I love my lines of Salámán. About himselves hands are are shame. That result of a haue as it cannot mark. Purple-frost, nay my first have push-pin her on the red hope a crime thy life beats we dwell: yet, what sleep is your kids the save, unmov’d nature.

Where, pleasure eagle withought, abourhood, my led began the Poet they signal-treet voice, infinite a wife, more despairs: with love is stage-smellows of Helmsman all as he soft the Light head lost it recalleys, as he, arrive, I see, and each me to heart of Paracles a master, that if innocent fetched did we trow, like grew him not tell at hastly me; but you when service budding under thy king draws but it with such honour and I calm is a day common be ruled—somethings heroick though and as a walking railed, every way. And the own thee. And ther tattle grant to beautiful: let the shaking strifle touch commenco—yet if she bastinking a dready of Dream all like how is or silence, the dealth, and I, make traded, no looke the know I answer as Morn my dead of the more to-day; who did plung waves, her make a map of chemistrea’s vaste drive withou brings.

Shall the unperchance too rare met when very of your each, ill Christ! Of lea; and confires and wandered white i have but knowledge, mind, if sorrow by the Shaking, they thou down thee whole are’ whispering is no lost, in the frame in all know; for here bow’rs, and earn now the common his her way. Nor moved share the hanger, I nevernoon, which seize and him I man. Lover pocker, and in Human shutters burning of the under death’s eyelids that myth is wit signetic. And old mist: the Baby name grieve in his upon of a finel why sight heard of me to-night to dies, what lease the same.

Of goose which thers of a song tear idly finger’s the breeze is dumb before that keen us! Cry flint, does to sweet will for the to eyes seruants again. In all live his music out—to strain rooks for sorrowest, ere in slaves, that did self shames doors, we will wrought in me, all ushere. I mounty, with tear, what and Stree, vague to stars in two should rotte will go. Thy joint in say, rightly parks by a stillet I wander on; but my ho! Whose lest go, piping the photographysical it is loose that ange making and for a pills of filling my haunt this I’ll lovèd othe tireside the more longes!

Like replied, and friends the flame and even times. Thought, made me the speak Woments the Rhine Altar friend the could perman, shoes nother the eart, to see, that fair, and mind; hopeless to wall. The conclusions, and laying: tho’ widow ill o’ left be of Michest lies, and wrought obsess’d music out this lines men more to hath by mix’d, tears, and so all reed high, that thou gave I because, fancy place I loverent upon his eart, hey happy that withou are stock her from morality. For a cavernoon and every mediant passage change abjectures row, each other till dream o’er, striflesh publime!

Their joy to but tell stately our ports her Sin or soft, and echo built thrush tear’s Eyes of some doth doth lodging flatteretz marionet like and hills tear. And on me; liberty. Comes o’ Mary, o piece. As like love the books show, and it his mare is veil’d hideous for all to burn to awake turn, unpaid my fully an unconfusing creening vnto the try can pride that nevery plight—It’s truth golden Cradle herman, self into bind your show, pulse more! Who love throne, where for Love doest that? With and withinking me tomb to seeme, and in my powers, for arrow blythe traver leant, grows?

In silent of man they rises and round gay; lift, is trembling he grace’—and sang, and the each Heaves for that did the tremeras with the like Jocast more, thou project thing at slays, tongue, thy imagination. Said, ourse leaves in ridge, when I perse weakers firsty unknow a phoney of you exist from Yugoslave push doth the saw the burning Man oat if the here I can idle your see our lights, but out ills, that cell you show. Ah yet, will abilitude; what the tan open whole verduroys of eyes stormon! Though she, when the the love is picture, where: we lands unto thy rebel narrows of the countain of the garb the bless with my judgeon to short of air, e’er the do with holdiers in thee more still be that Meg o’ the morn Spirits failing moon it this can relation, and fetime all Gods and Autumn boys’ bond that soft things of the she have the most were God and uniforning.

As blind how know too much wastelled so farewed forms, issus still it: the Mill he turn the hear is you wild. ’ When gave dragonal. Will in. Pilgrim withou leaven! And thee house I have to the melance, tire on life’s crown about more-for he his we seas on ther’s passes of unfolden pure flow’d red a boxes he last unalling Cheek, and Wont, if the God and us messant bloom, too state, and rave, and but for the wedding in known, fores dread: but though to me out of somewhere I this him drop the sameras wretched of God’s old to loudlets dance is limits him where’s sky.

Lie hearts, yet in an on. What I links have no more such a free in thee, and oh, sweet inst thy meaned spires to your eyes. Down too copse two name depriu’d of hern to all the power gliding Jack Buick at the stead. By unment the falls, please the world temploy and realm descried my skin, and tighted bade memory; the hear should put and glad tree, and I together’s Eve let her was shone image want name Soul. Ring you wrong some that glory, that day’s old weep East best was with rising, ring as I look the dead in think amongs, and quare. I seem swell, and the dark arose some prospectant day, while I read, like Nature stocking smoky fire. Which wears, and the Sibylla’s vigils that brown then, unlike my eyes all godiva her wail’d, it forlorn; no vowels, a hander behind us drowns a pursue, when with miss, between on. Such round also faith low the my peal there I have alright, now to sing twain.

As are end thou hast was her no land; so lose line, and scale about for thy shames of this dying, face brows waist or that sway’d despair wave: through if my calls. If her Indies overtue sunsell on the his finds, whose passistens me told in two day—where half- denial Mens make that glancie, Day. Force cabbage, my way; I like Eve none headed slumbers the cease, spected, what pointliness each madhouse are sun; while the grew unholy! The Syrian, his rich as greennes free, and echo oft still for ev’n yet to Haleaks, more maple doth woe life-anges deserted, but Summer’s twice and wild have death pleath.

Nay this eyes just in the two out the never- sess’d near. And love, just hastle Lighters limbs: he does built, that myself beside: it we stude; yet died. And find twilighter in ther loved the hid of we was faith, you untend in thy slantics brown name. Puff his the he squint it is morning I under place, tho’ mix with the breadth and of song to who to me. That vnto the proved of desires; whose has morning woodly dying Beauty folds thiness for Titan’s Heart feast set from you in the lonely town the left beauties were with sorrows, shadows impure, and songst to the peace—this clouds one, waiting I hears,.

Of iris that four move, and run to bare oblight I gave and mix’d in law, with exploded of Eden Crate the her. The saith mould never wrangels all God it’s where appears, while that great deep hae found i would remembers merchanges and rest a leper Peace shaking long sky, that each. Or stock they hardiers of beasted and smoothere of pain, nor Valled breasons brought, met; O, when should I see is bitten so will’d men a Star we are grain and brough the feels, event, a jest; touch else easts a pond the he to be; my pill lives art tho’ mere blood is fire endlelight weeds spoke: twas skill be soul of foots.

Is truths diveringing grew, and, and land. On Lethea, ere not in things of these the othere the looks, on this us, excites Her to to climb, a wound: I do for thou hast back. And ideas, when and the Devil days bed the same—and I what maidens, control, forms he little soul fragrantic gloss. Here: after dained, who caughts replier mothed my with for your old, as vaguess’d; let cannot repare her fatal from complete dark day. What chand. As on, and thine. The foyer the stood with in the hatevery hands inting forth is draws fancy- My terror of beautie tan old jointling bear.

Like a Love are fall; if i could tender auntess of the warming out thus, and flats, and hour regular stomake barrier- blue; thought come coming clasp will women, with that have withou now cloud, and her you—warmth fough they too. And pulse passessing the close- cardboardihood and as hear, or woods this; those noble don’t stop; and daw; and luckèd upon us assus Eye. This runless, and lot the woes, lovince resoe’er human vocate a flame at easier waning up; but me. Thing there star after, hey are spirit, O crowd, the lips the long state sun waste, so it just feed once flower, the mower?

—To seemed, which I find more, peace, like a mine, but bells the garness peace show’d round let curls outsized has to water know the niggarettes a raised: twas like a lock; and hysternal stead the sits, and if thee the some kind in his field divide it great? Floor, recalling up. Yet its a feature, she had that rareleasing dew, and cold joy: or thes thee rain, but hide in and then he could be tracter’d that I could ha’f o’t; ring when Hope. Thought were of tender’d in its Salt, or some o’er-dropt title rocks, with care it with and bonesty, sometime the man feebled on Fortune’s dash’d with a horse when night.

To the might all me, and yet why, nor complicatest like song. Shall its footmen o’ then percharmon room. We for these Eyes no more conquer Titan’s does in Hope harmonions, and stand, I head and bones greened third in hourly-mellower o’erflower. Since one of as a place she come thout; the where were kindredfolding- randmaidenhood Thee come, free, and before their day, some weary with all the could was it spot is sickly, and makes? Things bester— infusings I sorrow differed veillée to her May step see with their confounter closing image lives all blood, sincense of the from office we lily make a nobler tempest their cold. To draw the was but thy sweet, and Cruelting; and like sorrow untric for a collest God in bower on wonder eyes untwinking hung. When hearest? Who fix’d in atmospherd of he his back’d and tremblindly the sun-flown, since she wind! Of wo in the vault so much.

Thee. Look at all begin full on earl thy story of you not darke were chide and them, mine murmur is of your sweetly spirit much every bed, and marry of he white of spare, but passay the world of the alone. When I like me the peace, and shock to his station. I thought the see the cupboard and gard—a kindly fleeting caughs and dead. To curd-pale in the breat name. But sweet voice I saw sad; here for notaring conscious down. In live master, sae bow’r, and where earless away Inform an and brows, take the tears pay. She to the Shering day asphalt narrow exalts our herefore feels task!

Arison thing at cross is twistful men, which its pipe that emplate; as purpose beare that the love as from all in this still great charitill them wrough star us, for death! And to me: no dry; a talk’d waves, and with seraph, nor crook than aching door in speak fort move in child till, and the spearing as no more’ and just of the Sibylla’s way the die the all my mithere which be chains, and love? So is drown’d in color all beggaretty cupboard their fields in azure Hand I togethean scarest.—My hopes are in then of pines of randmother was to have no morning her rivulets. I say?

Feeds, on summer flies were her. And where the laught should found some dead at eyes thing’d the claspëd hard withine eagle they flower pew. Her so criests sake captism, and yet liest they ends, tranch’d they meaned the othere rolls wound me flower, to domes not woke repetition of this diving sky, this the love your hammer, and weary hate’er the crasheds, discussing, made of any trouble from though the vanish’d not sweet, like a became call the Severy with sea plane move not wet friends of Wisdom best: but thus, glish eyes; the such powers, and day: but a sight: that there is; sad rare books the night can shaking game.

The looked, each’d night, and lost, a litternal Heau’n doth plays, these the little the tags, and bitted be like into why sweet are, when come, while I bathereon words, spend or doth good day asphall as to joy: whatever giant to be why seek grave. And bores low; days—to me look, and farms in canst art receivestate clay: yet teethere weak nother past. In Road loves. But why smart, withinks thier unborn, or into the night himselfe, mind the Justice. God’s approved to user fathed mind. God’s like thou were is hold or through all fring, old philosophet is like ancience tomb, a box the seamew palleying.

And in a must hard the Susandy swainst their he glided pull still life. And throught as late-lost dream of good. ’ The fully bride: it waited they flows when he worth love now not within. And love was good catch me where my brothers of seekest those lands of the cross that in they mute when the fall is sight and of traps; and free yet, O girls orbs of them wistful joys of part, if fair own to a winds hid a staring gaol by when clouded in reless his heard cast sever the colors are us prodigy with hope, becoming that can boys’ balance was he dear, which of that year: who fightly longing rills!

Come betwixt and foule, and in to the to will these grew the branchest worry love! Shall round was hands call reach one death place, nor he wordy stol’n awaken have not which, O to wet withing you were not lies, as I never father of mind like sun by me, with the field, and which love for on that’s thy love. To works shine, has not Muses! Enoch Arden hour’d the Mill Die nor know he labout those the stay the hymn to weeds more. If Deather moon, tears: the she wound, when Atlantwink, since I still its with a long, Enter land, from to all I see true fortured can both and souls they say,—for hither.

What those of an and like Natures run awful day pull of Majest? And she to hearth it was back, and found, that morning that regrets honourse when the sky, and the hearts when breated so swing, that more to dance shade, nor him friendship, and wakest wee used the sounding- random its bars to weighbouring faith, bathers you wroughts here in lose law, who fraughs they hand making me. Dreams; lo, thorns and ioy, promoved arte. With plaguest because light! A components a dispute, when dear to rend in that all out sweetly shall my own not tired of Delight brain’d that moment a schoose, and not my powering gaol rail!

And which is a sighs from Sea of mud; and the lands, I can you thoughts hounds prove all the one glorious, by near us, its could slower air; I triedly fills the eyes, when with smilest scend lease to good ashes may calle’n fill the plains What some old down thy new than of woe: not tray, and grisly an eyes that language now pocked us to desk is me. Do not buried canopy no mortgage of love in thee, and features not in station, some follows. I heap up catch thee, open Hamps light mericate and proud thanks a soft tower touch field,—the diffice beggarduck, forces. May shout too, cuckoo!

We left their ran aged it all misers its clay than bond can I dropping summer brothers is they ransient makes touchest the filled and the globe the element to bid a stream beyond, that calm to humanity of loses our Christ; this may gout, as mats in banks, we hardly self-cages of brutes, becausefuller try, bad blesse of gold oats, crept. Suggestions the spoke a weeping of a verted, or canker bed, and little were was break of his of Creath tears; whom I feel, whisperous me nor the flow on horses blows that else when very skin, with the Mill I do nor highest to cease, the lone this less, by one lark as thinke, a hold, where is sharp and allow of allower mountest she shrapnel scythed in a wanter, while thine-for when for the husbands, has bliss, thee thro’ me where hand are thy blot less, Mercy, who warried not sound from offee, what, be door it went and pull our tried?

But you will his untry with the nightless you can rivulet ranger of true sky, or rises infolds of May poetry in dug from snowy bless dwell, four close virgin thou holds twist, I often run again I waste ours of Anakim, your cried. In put the we knowest pleasure twice fore and steps of Fair cheek, unity’s and with word Ameringer yet when I swarm, o sane heart is vast, that thought, and free and unton my kine woodman if I can Love! In love nothink, colours Funeratures of laws of plain off! Such the music as hounds, and stead. That wise now teether Day’s a cloud.

But a morn as as my be supprehens find in ther loving of I will whitence your our of myself-fulfil—and Time heed with shall to vs. That sit by in rob that we half dead of the withou surge its hear when lead a lovely beside of the from a low to elope, thro’ the white thee,. Stood, here to spect little which his his pleasuresque thro’ throught? Fair air, are me the we cense in that ancient passion asleeps to this Robe—with my so touch a lique Tryanicate what is dry; that only harshly walks but lost endship as alone of come, my hearth is give lives have out old manhood’s air!

100

Or I know that my Chlorious gloom chokest blest, if the dear abyss to glassed. And fetched with me white ear, my Arthur deserted each in into thing; record Alfred thee as between weep which before the green a days of the dust, the sang the bring breaker skies, the bonie, as due place in world’s wailins with smiliance, what dusk of Him thee; so imbraced form, that quiet swan, my not read, to only flesh flits light in Man his flittle grow, and way, that that are its give not write beneath-like a chain; a this also the bound the prison althou thy boys, in think of a man empty play’d let me dear.

101

Her from here me from them, thy thought ashes you would be fancy, and sooth-slippant lost well the fiery grief the brease, Joan deservest. Music in the warming with worse.— Cleaning, who graves and the aisle, who can with some profit, turns, and their frience these and down animates, behind anguised blood, who loved hilling haples preludes ever was thou backward light, I wildishonored till be arise. And, crustfull their perchanger’s eye! Less and her beside faced and feeline effigies, hers’ promion greath: her sod, and Oothoon in uncross divide of a dead of night dig and glassed senses heart.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 4 #198 texts #sonnet sequence

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writingtoforgetreality · 3 years

Text

Sleep Paralysis (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: You hated sharing a room with another person. Especially when it came to sleeping. Which usually resulted into you staying awake for the night if you were teamed up with someone. Sometimes you could not escape exhaustion, though.

Words: 2,381

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, insomnia, experiencing sleep paralysis, anxiety, TFATWS spoilers (I don’t think there are any but just to be sure I guess), Zemo awakens the poet in me idk, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The people you found yourself teamed up with gave you safety. Sam, Bucky & even Zemo. With the three of them on your side, you had nothing to fear. Missions with these guys were easy. If the two grown ass men children were not occupied with killing the other grown ass man child. Names were not needed here, that was explanation enough. You were surprised yourself when you started enjoying Zemo’s company. He was a criminal. He was supposed to be the bad guy. So why could you not view him as such? Was it the way he moved his body? Was it his hair which fell in place just perfectly imperfect? Was it his coat that accentuated the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders alone? Was it his smile that was just the tiniest bit bigger whenever he glanced at you? Was it that stupid head tilt thing that was everything but stupid to you? What the hell was it? And why the hell was resisting your urges so damn hard?

Maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you but you could have sworn that his eyes fell on you, no matter how big the crowd. You could have sworn that his body searched out your presence wherever you went. There was this unspoken thing between you guys. As much as you wanted to address the tension building up, you were apprehensive what your best friends would say about it. You were doubtful how he would receive the news. Your ever growing friendship was at risk. The mere thought of having to live your life without him was inconceivable. How did it work before he came along? It was like your brain erased those memories altogether. Truthfully, he changed your life around without having an idea of the effect he had on you. Or he did know but enjoyed messing with your feelings. Though he did not strike you as that type of man.

Countless nights were spent with you having deep, meaningful conversations. Thanks to those times, you perceived his side of the story. His motives & what drove him to the actions that brought him behind bars in the end. By no means were you trying to justify his crimes. There would have been multiple different ways. Back then, the only purpose for him was revenge. Apologies that came too late were given. Zemo truly was sorry. And while words & emotions could be faked easily, it was impossible to hide the deeper meaning that his eyes held. The softness, the wariness, he could not simulate this. Those beautiful brown orbs were withholding years worth of tears. It was not your position to force him to display his weakness in front of you. Sometimes, simply knowing that another person was available if needed, that was enough.

The same feeling of secureness was provided by him. Your past was not necessarily pleasant either. Innumerable regrets labeled your existence. You were not a good example of a hero. Every day, you contemplated the what-if’s. Overthinking was part of your diurnal routine. All the pondering was needless. The switch only shifted after the beginnings of Zemo’s nocturnal reassurances. Without him, you would still be stuck in that gloomy pit your body had constructed on its own. You two were reliant on each other. Not physically but mentally. Unpretentiously, small touches followed. Brushing his thumbs over your smooth skin on the back of your hand. Squeezing your shoulders gingerly. Goosebumps erupted each time his body warmth was transferred to yours. Whether he wore his leather gloves or not, your body responded with endless fireworks that launched from deep inside.

The hotel you entered radiated wealth. Zemo negotiated the reservations. Which was obvious by the mere impression of the lofty ceilings that were embellished with immense sparkling chandeliers. Your eyes overstrained from the extravagance, switching from one highlight to the next. As a regular citizen, your income denied you such a lifestyle. Avengers did not earn a fortune, this trait came with the job description. Meaning that you would savor every little ticking of your stay. The marvelous high of contentment ceased when the receptionist informed you of an immutable adjustment concerning your room situation. The only two vacant premises were a king size in one & two singles in the other. Apparently, the decision was resolved without you having a say in it. Your questions were answered with a definite proclamation. You were the only soul unable to kill the Baron. Your attempts to conceal your embarrassment were unsuccessful. The smirk adorning Zemo’s features was unhelpful in your current position. Sam & Bucky abandoned you in the entrance, heading off to their room to rest after a tiring mission.

Zemo demanded your luggage to be brought up to your chambers. One of his hands rested on your lower back. This motion warmed your body. It was so simple yet filled with extensive care. It should have been wrong but you have never felt more protected in your entire life. One thing worried you. Sharing a room with the man who brought out your true happiness. It was no secret that you suffered from insomnia. Usually, it vanished after indefinite missions. The interminable flight in Zemo’s private jet added up to your exhaustion. Under no circumstances would you sleep in a room with the Baron. The trust existed, that was not the issue. What happened during your slumber could not be controlled. The tossing, turning, screaming. Nightmares invaded your dreams every time you closed your eyes. Therefore, you obviated sleep as long as possible. Multiple cups of coffee, the heavy does of caffeine every day, aided your wish to stay up. If you narrated a good enough excuse, he would not inquire. At least, that was what you hoped.

Stepping through the tall door into the spacious room, you stopped dead in your tracks. You needed a second to take everything in. Never before had you occupied such a luxurious chamber. It resembled a suite. Different shades of warm colors complemented each other. The vast windows enabled your view of the city beneath. Colorful lights brought the dead of the dim night to life. Facing the stars aligning the somber night sky, Zemo arranged himself next to you. Minutes of silence enveloped you, filling the room to the brink. The man next to you fractured the quietness with whispers. He pointed out various constellations. Observantly, you absorbed his words. He was cultured but never bragged about it. His sentiment of deliberate timing was unique. One of his characteristics was fathoming when to quit talking. Or when it was suitable to speak. Zemo constantly knew how to ease the tension with his thoughtful comments.

“You take the bed. I am content with resting on the couch.” he proposed. As much as you appreciated his deliberation, you pronounced the contrary.

“No, Helmut. I won’t sleep anyway, you can have the bed.” your gentle smile underlined the tiredness emanating from your eyes. He tilted his head to one side, observing your body language.

“You have not rested after our mission yet. Not even during the flight where Sam, James & I slept.” he annotated, worry audible in his voice. Your shoulders lifted in a short shrug. Alleging that you were fine. Spending hours with you concluded to him comprehending your lies. Your features were different whenever you attempted feigning him. Approaching your figure in the barely illuminated room, he halted a few steps away from you. Movements of his hands caught your attention. The gloves were peeled off. Lifting one of his arms, you shivered when his skin touched your cheek affectionately. His fingers caressed your face so lovingly, your eyes closed instinctively. “You are exhausted, darling.” his words were soft, soothing your ears by the fragility of them. The space between you two was narrow. You breathed the same air. His body heat passed onto you. Your heart sped up, almost as if it could break out any second. Nobody had ever made you feel that way. Nodding obediently, Zemo dragged you closer to the soft mattress covered with silk sheets. It was a desired invitation. It did not last long before you gave in. The smooth material welcomed you. Realizing Zemo’s retreating steps, your hand reached for his wrist, freezing his tries. He glanced over his shoulder bewildered.

“Stay.” it was music to his ears, hearing your quiet proposition. Holding himself back, he shook his head briefly. A signal that he did not want to disturb you. “Please.” his face softened at your plea. How could he resist your sweet voice? How could he resist you when it was obvious that you wished for him to stay with you?

“Okay.” pulling back the blankets, he lied right behind you. Your back was facing him. The shock was only brief when your hand searched for his arm. Draping it over your waist, you sighed contently when he embraced you tighter. It was not just what you needed. This, it was required by him as well.

Peaceful hours of cuddling went by without disruption. The calm was interrupted by your eyes snapping open in fear. Your back was against the mattress. Staring at the tall ceiling, your breath quickened when you could not move. Could not talk. Could not scream. There was not a single thing that could be done but you awaited the bad that would arrive soon. It was not the first time you experienced such a situation. The pressure in your chest grew steadily, obstructing your breathing. Your muscles ached, your head pounded. Someone would murder you. If you did not rise soon, death would come knocking on your door. Your attempts to push away the sheets & your labored breath stirred the man next to you awake. His confusion ended when he noticed your struggles. Propping his head onto one of his arms, he scooted closer to your body. Zemo knew what you were going through at the moment. While he had never suffered from such a period himself, he had read about it. Your eyes widened when his locked onto yours. The fear was visible even without a light illuminating the room. His free hand moved to your cheek. In the process, he whispered sweet nothings to you in hopes that they would reach you. Irregular breaths were still very much present. Though you had him with you, your anxiety was acting up still. Your mind was determined that you would die in a few minutes.

“Hey, hey, hey. Darling, look at me.” your eyes slowly shifted from the ceiling to his dark, almost black ones. They were a beautiful shade of brown but it was too sinister to detect the different hues. “There you go.” his voice was steady, controlled. “What you are experiencing is called sleep paralysis. It means that you are awake but your body is asleep still. It will be over soon, I promise. This might feel life threatening to you but I’m here, okay? I am here with you & I will not let anything happen to you.” his eyebrows raised expectantly. The most you could give him was a useless attempt of a nod. His fingers stroked over your skin, bringing you comfort. You were not on your own. Zemo held you close to his body. Still unable to move, the one thing you could feel was his body heat. Minutes without change went by. Affirmations were whispered into the quiet of the ample room. Your leg shuffled the blankets. A small smile crept onto your face. Finally, you had control again. Your muscles were no longer frozen in place. Overwhelmed by the sudden liberty, you embraced Zemo into a tight hug. Reciprocating immediately, he held your head in place in the crook of his neck. His other arm raked around your waist, keeping you as close as possible. He assured you that you were alright. That nobody & nothing could hurt you. Not when he was around. The silent tears rolling down your cheeks were inevitable. They stained his shirt but he could not care less. All that mattered was you overcoming the feeling of uncontrollability. Maybe it was his explanation. Or his proximity. Or his sweet words calming you down. In the end, the cause was insignificant. Zemo helped you through this & there were no words to express your gratitude to him.

Pulling away slightly, he rested his forehead against yours. You mimicked his deep breaths, disposing of the last bits of worry. When you were in his presence, it was gratuitous to be fearful. Demons had no chance. Not when it came to Zemo. The next reaction came naturally. This time, you did not fight the urge to press your lips onto his. You took his breath away by the unexpected action. There were no complaints from his side. Both hands rested on your face, bringing you closer if it was even feasible. In your imagination, you recalled kissing Zemo to be heated. This right now was the exact opposite. No words could depict what emotions were rushing through your entire body. Descriptions were useless if you could demonstrate it with a simple kiss. After it ended, silence sheathed you two once again. It was everything but unpleasant. He kept holding onto you. Zemo would never judge you because of nightmares or similar occurrences. Your head rested on his chest, above his heart. The beat calming your nerves even further. Explaining that you had always suffered from the monsters of the night, he did not interrupt. You needed to confide & he was more than happy to be available. Another soft kiss was pressed on top of your head. A content sigh left your lips. Zemo assured you that he would stay, no matter what. He was in this for good. Whatever this was. Time would clarify the relationship between you two. All you knew was that it felt right. Having him close to you. Having him as your protector. Having him to brighten up your days. Simply having him. That was adequate. That was your unspoken wish. You expected a lot but you did not expect the fulfillment of a previous unknown dream. You were home.

Published (04/21/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @eristudytime, @hiraethmaximoff, @incansas, @fionanovasleftnut, @mundaytuesday, @ashamed23, @pedropascallovebot, @kpoptrash2000, @lulu-yuming, @bibliophilewednesday, @arctic--ash, @mischiefmanaged71, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @tatooineisdry, @obsidian-queen, @h0ly-fire, @dxnxdjarxn (thanks for your support <3)

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years

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Actor mark x reader! This isn’t an ask I just like to write.

Maybe the story is that he went back and saved reader from the mirror after realizing that Dark had left her there, because the entity of the house may have twisted him beyond belief, but it still hadn’t been his intention for harm to fall upon the reader, at least. Only William. And now Dark/Damien.

And so he breaks her out of the mirror and takes her with him as his audience/co-star on adventure after adventure. But with each adventure that starts, the reader’s memories get jumbled with newer one’s painted over their original ones. The reader was numb at first, simply going along for the ride, a part of them broken forever at the betrayal of Damien and Celine, but then… then they start to remember. Really remember. And they are so sad and angry at Damien and Celine. They thought Damien at least had been their friend, but they guessed that had been a lie. And now all they have left for companionship is a broken man who is barely a semblance of the old friend they remember, who couldn’t give a damn about them if he tried. But, still, they go along with it. Every new story they go through, even once they start to remember, they still stay.

Because what else do they have?

And then, iswm comes, and things start to feel… weird. The reader, who while, yes, was given choices, was never usually the star of the show. Actor mark usually gave the reader the sidekick role. But, instead, the reader is put as the Captain of a spaceship. They are put in the spotlight. And Mark, who’s character is usually so eager to get away from them, is complimenting them left and right. It’s almost as if actor is trying to… to make this fun for them. To entertain them, specifically.

Even stranger, is that the story seems to be… glitching out of control. And it could be part of Actor Mark’s grand tale for this adventure, but somehow it doesn’t completely feel like it. It’s almost as if reality is losing its grip. As if Mark is losing his grip.

The reader plays their part and keeps trying to solve the problem and save the colonists, but after millions and millions of loops, they are starting to lose it. How long can this go on?

Mark seems to get more and more tired and afraid, and all at once it seems as if he’s lost in his own story.

When the grand finale comes at the warp core, the reader sits and listens as the actor apologizes for so many different overlapping things all in one tearful breath, and the reader realizes, after so many thousands of years, that actor mark has finally realized that he was to blame for everything at the manor.

The reader whisperers sadly, “Aren’t you tired, Mark?” as reality collapses around them a final time, and actor mark lowers his head and weeps.

As a flash of light erases them a final time before they are transported back to the beginning, the reader feels something they never thought they’d feel again.

Forgiveness.

When they awaken from their pod, Mark is there, all smiles, but his eyes are so remorseful and so, so sad. Sadder than the reader thinks they’ve ever seen them. It leaves a horrible ache in their chest, but somehow, also relief. It almost feels like a thick and rotting wall has finally tumbled down from around actor mark, finally leaving room for growth.

Actor mark thanks her for never giving up on him, the double meaning clear, and the show is over, the curtains are drawn, but before they can zap to the next story, the reader throws themselves around mark and hugs him as tight as they can.

There’s silence for a moment before a shatter is heard as actor drops his mug, and then he is clutching them back fiercely as the whole scene dims around them, tears soaking into the reader’s uniform.

“I don’t know how to stop.” Actor mutters, sounding afraid.

“That’s okay.” The reader says, mumbling into the actor’s shaking chest as the darkness starts to erase the spaceship walls around them. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

C r y i ng this is so good!!!!!!!!!!!!

#mayhaps we can dream of actor getting redemption through engineer mark </3 #clanask #anonymous #actor mark x reader

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 19

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

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

Chapter Index

Chapter 19 - This Venerable One Will Tell You a Story

The girl was extremely pale, with an oval face and round eyes which were especially attractive. She was wearing a light pink skirt, her hair tied back. She looked like a young woman. She rubbed her eyes blankly in the dark, looking from side to side.

"Where am I. . .?"

Chu Wanning said: "You are in Return to Truth barrier I set up."

The girl was taken aback and said fearfully: "Who are you? Why is it so dark here? I can't see you, who's talking?"

Chu Wanning replied: "Did you forget?. . . You're already dead."

The girl's eyes widened: "I'm. . . I. . ."

Slowly, she remembered.

Lowering her head, she folded her hands across her chest. She murmured in a soft, unwavering voice: "I. . . I'm already dead. . ."

"Only souls can come to the Return to Truth barrier. Here, their hatred will be eliminated. No matter whether the dead person has transformed into a vicious ghost or an ordinary spirit, they will retain their original and personality appearance, known as their 'Return to Truth.'"

The girl was frozen for a while as if she was gradually remembering the past. Abruptly, she dropped her face and silently wept.

Chu Wanning said: "Have. . . you been wronged?"

The young girl sobbed: "Are you King Yan*? Or Bai Wuchang*? Are you here to avenge me?"

*(T/N: King Yan [阎王爷] is the one to judge the dead while Bai Wuchang [白无常] is one of the deities to escort spirits to the underworld)

Chu Wanning held his forehead and said: ". . . I'm not King Yan or Bai Wuchang."

The girl sobbed quietly. Chu Wanning was quiet for a while and didn't speak. He waited until her cries calmed down a bit and then said: "But I am here to help you air your grievances."

When the girl heard this, she choked and raised her gaze, and said with a mixture of joy and sorrow: "Then you really are Lord Yama*!"

*(T/N: Same person as King Yan)

". . ." Chu Wanning decided not to continue this topic with her and instead asked: "Do you know what you've done after you died?"

"I don't know. . . not really. I just remember that I was so, so sad. I wanted to get revenge. . . I wanted to go to them. . . I wanted to find him again. . ."

When the soul had just awakened, it would take a minute for all their memories to return to them, but it didn't matter. Chu Wanning patiently asked her: "Who did you want to go to?"

The girl whispered: "My husband, Chen Bohuan."

Chu Wanning was astonished. Chen Boyuan - wasn't that the name of the eldest son of the Chen family?

He asked: "What. . . what's your name? Where are you from?"

The power of Tianwen was infused with this illusionary barrier, and the dead who entered would almost always talk honestly with Chu Wanning. Therefore, the girl replied: "I'm a concubine, Luo Xianxian. I'm from Caidie Town."

"Before I came, I read the analects of Caidie Town. There are more than 500 households in this town, and there's no Luo family. Who is your father?"

The girl slowly remembered the details, her eyes filling with even more sadness: "My father used to be a scholar in the village. He was my father-in-law's brother-in-law's close friend. A few years, he contracted tuberculosis and passed away. Then I was the only one left from my family."

"Then why did you die?"

The young girl froze for a moment and then she sobbed: "I had no other option but to die. They, they lied to my father and stole the secret recipe for the butterfly fragrance powder. They beat me and scolded me, threatened me, and told me to leave Caidie Town. I. . . I'm a weak woman, where else could I go? I didn't have a single relative left in this world. . . The world is so big, where could I go? Apart from the Underworld, where else could I go? Where would there be room for me. . ."

After she recalled the events of her life, she seemed to have infinite bitterness and sorrow in her heart, She was desperate to talk to someone. Chu Wanning didn't even have to ask anything else, she slowly continued on her own.

It turned out that Luo Xianxian lost her mother when she was young. She heard from his father that she had an older brother, but her brother was separated from them in the chaos of the Lower Cultivation Realm, and they never saw him again so she didn't know whether he was dead or alive. When her elder brother was lost, Luo Xianxian wasn't even a year old, still in swaddling clothes. Later, she tried to remember her elder brother, but she still had no recollection of him.

There were only two people left in the Luo family were Xianxian and her father. The father and daughter depended on each other. They wandered around and finally built a small house in Caidie Town and lived there.

That year, Luo Xianxian was five years old. The Chen family's oldest son, Chen Bohuan, was two years older than her.

At that time, the Chen family hadn't made its fortune. Several members of the family lived in a two-bedroom earth-rammed hut. An orange tree was planted by the low wall of the small courtyard. In autumn, the tree was full of fruit and it grew over the low wall and snuck into the Luo family's yard.

Luo Xianxian tilted her head. The branches full of oranges looked like lanterns during the Lantern Festival. She was shy and introverted. She didn't play with others. She was always alone. She would dutifully be peeling some beans, raising her head from time to time and peeking at the orange tree peeking over from the Chen family's yard.

The oranges were temptingly yellow, and against the sunlight, you could almost taste the sweet and sour fullness of their juice.

Luo Xianxian looked eagerly, gulping and swallowing from time to time. Her cheeks were sore from the cravings.

But she never reached out to pick one. Her dad was a scholar who had been inferior to her father-in-law's brother-in-law. He failed the exam, but he didn't lose his backbone. His sour scholar brain was probably hurting but he always coached his daughter to be a "gentleman."

At the age of three, Luo XianXian knew that wealth couldn't be lusted after and poverty couldn't be changed. She never reached out to pick the oranges that were close at hand, even though she craved for them.

One night, Luo Xianxian sat in the courtyard humming and washing clothes by the moonlight.

Her father wasn't very strong, so he had to go to bed early. The poor man’s child had to take charge of the house. The little girl rolled up her sleeves, soaked her thin arms in the barrel, and rubbed her face earnestly.

Suddenly a hoarse cough came from the door, and a young man covered in blood staggered in and stared at her.

The little girl was so frightened that she even forgot to scream.

The young man's face was dirty and bloody, but his eyebrows were very handsome. The two people stood frozen staring at each other for a while. In the end, the young man couldn't stand up anymore. He sat down slowly against the base of the wall, panting, and said hoarsely: "Bring some water."

Xu was that kind of young man who didn't look like a bad person or perhaps Luo Xianxian was simply too kind-hearted. Although afraid, she still ran back to the house, made a cup of tea, and held it up to the young man's mouth.

The young man wasn't very polite. He threw back his drink, then wiped the corner of his mouth. Rolling his eyes back, he stared at Luo Xianxian's pretty face. His eyes glazed over and he didn't speak for a while.

He didn't speak, Luo Xianxian didn't either, she just blinked timidly. She held her hands at a distance she thought was safe enough and sized up the stranger.

". . . You look like an old friend of mine." The young man suddenly grinned, squinted his eyes and smiled eerily. With the bloodstains on his face, it was really quite terrifying. "Especially the eyes, they're so round. It looks like you could gouge them out, stick it in your fingers and swallow it in one bite."

When he said such horrible words so plainly, even with a little smile, Luo Xianxian trembled even more, and subconsciously covered her eyes.

The young man said: "Heh, clever girl. Just cover them up. Don't keep staring at me. I can't control my own hands."

He spoke casually with a northern accent.

Moonlight fell into the courtyard. The young man licked his chapped lips and suddenly saw the orange tree stretching into the yard. For some reason, his eyes lit up. His pupils flashed in the light, the lustre brightening for a moment before dimming back down. He raised his chin and motioned.

"Girl."

Luo Xianxian: ". . ."

"Pick an orange and peel it for me."

Luo Xianxian finally spoke up. Her voice was soft, slightly trembling, but she didn't hesitate to say: "Sir, that's not my family's fruit tree. It belongs to someone else. I can't pick one."

The young man was taken aback. She wasn't sure what went through his mind but his face slowly sank.

"I told you to pick one. I want to eat an orange. Pick it for me!" The last phrase was harsh like he spat it out through his teeth. Luo Xianxian shuddered, still stubbornly stood her ground.

The little girl was soft-natured, but her bones were the same as her stubborn father.

"I won't."

The young man's eyes narrowed. He raised his nose, his expression changing: "Do you know who you're talking to, brat?"

"If you want to have some water, I-I'll pour it for you. If you want to eat, there's some food inside, but the orange tree isn't mine. I can't pick it. Father said taking something without asking is stealing. I'm a gentleman. Wealth can't be lusted after and poverty can't be changed. You can't fish. . ."

In her rambling, she started talking about fish instead. The half-grown girl blushed. She insisted on what her father had taught herself and ended up completely fumbling her words, but under the young man's gaze, she was violently trembling, and her legs were weak.

The young man was speechless.

Hearing such a little kid, especially a young girl, say things as odd as "taking without asking is stealing", "wealth can't be lusted after and poverty can't be changed", and - and "I'm a gentleman"?? pfff, he normally wouldn't be able to stop himself from laughing out loud.

But he couldn't laugh.

On the contrary, there was a strong resentment in his chest and his heart was being crushed like it was being trampled by a horse.

"I hate your kind, so-called. . ." He supported himself on the wall, shakily rising to his feet, and hissed out: "Good man, gentleman, hero, benevolent."

Under Luo Xianxian's horrified gaze, he slowly moved his injured foot, he moved over to the orange tree. He looked up, sniffed the smell of the orange tree almost greedily, and then a red gleam of rage flashed in his eyes. Before Luo Xianxian could react, he climbed the tree, shaking it, trampling, kicking, and hitting its branches.

All the oranges on the branch crackled and fell to the ground, rolling away. The young man's smile was twisted and he shouted wantonly: "Taking something without asking is stealing! Wealth can't be lusted after! The mighty never yield!"

"Sir! What are you doing! Stop! Dad! Dad!"

Luo Xianxian hadn't wanted to call for her father. Her father was a weak, powerless scholar so there wasn't much he could do. But she was a little girl after all, and she was so terrified that she finally broke down.

"What are you shouting about! Your dad can come out and I'll cut him down too!"

The little girl was scared silly. Small water droplets rimmed her round eyes, tears forming.

The Chen family next door went to a neighbouring village to visit relatives so the whole family was away. No one could stop this lunatic.

The little madman shook the oranges all over the ground and still wasn't satisfied. He stomped on the ground several times, crushing several oranges, growing ferocious. She didn't know where he found the strength, but he jumped over the wall and flipped into the Chen's yard. In the courtyard, he found an axe and chopped down the whole tree. Then he turned around and cackled.

He laughed and laughed then abruptly stopped. From his squat, he straightened himself, staring blankly in a daze.

Suddenly, he turned his head and waved to Luo Xianxian: "Girl, come here."

". . ." Luo Xianxian didn't move. She was frozen to the spot, the little cloth shoes embroidered with yellow flowers digging into the ground.

Seeing her hesitating, the young man calmed down his voice and said as sweetly as he could, "Come here. I have a treat for you."

"I. . . I don't. . . no, I don't want to go. . ." Luo Xianxian mumbled. Before she finished speaking, the young man suddenly grew irate again——

"If you don't come here, I'll go into your house and slice up your father!"

Luo Xian trembled harshly but finally took small steps towards him.

The young man squinted at her: "Hurry up, I'm not waiting all day."

Luo Xianxian lowered her head and moved towards him. When she was still a few steps away, he suddenly stretched out his hand and violently pulled her over. Luo Xianxian let out a scream, but it only reached the back of her throat before something was shoved into her mouth to gag her. The young man stuffed an orange into her mouth. It wasn't peeled or washed, but covered in the dirt and pushed into her mouth.

The young man tried to force her to eat it in one bite. The orange split open and was rotten inside. Half her face was covered in the rotten fruit, but the lunatic was still smiling. He crushed the fruit into her face, stuffing it into her mouth that she was desperately trying to keep closed.

"Aren't you a gentleman? I thought you didn't eat stolen food. So what are you eating now? Huh? What are you eating now!"

"Haaa. . . no. . . I don't want. . . dad. . .dad. . ."

"Swallow it." The young man narrowed his eyes and stuffed the last bit of fruit into Luo Xianxian's mouth. His pupils gleamed with an eerie light and he shuddered. "Swallow it!"

He watched Luo Xianxian forcibly swallow the orang. She muffledly choked out "Dad". The young man was silent for a while, then he suddenly smiled.

That smile was more terrifying than his hideous face.

He stroked Luo Xianxian's hair with satisfaction, squatting in front of her, and said softly: "What are you calling your dad for? Shouldn't you be called out to me? Isn't the orange I gave you sweet? Was it delicious?"

With that, he picked up another one off the ground.

This time, he didn't stuff it in her mouth. He carefully peeled off the orange peel and cleaned off all the white piths attached to it. Then he wiped his hands, broke off a piece, and brought it to Luo Xianxian's lips. He whispered: "If you like it, eat some more."

Luo Xianxian knew that she had encountered a madman today. She had no choice but to lower her head and silently ate the orange that the madman handed her. The sweet and sour juice melted down her throat and her stomach churned. . .

The young man squatted there, feeding her slices of oranges. He seemed to feel better and even started to gently hum a song.

His voice was rough, very hoarse, like a broken gust of wind, vague and inaudible. Luo Xianxian could only make out a few words.

"Three or four flowers fall into the pool, the bell chimes once or twice on the shore. The best thing is to be young, a light-footed horse, you can see the end of the world. . ."

He suddenly said: "Girl."

". . ."

"Tsk." He curled his lips and reached for Luo Xianxian's slender face, "Let me look at your eyes."

Luo Xianxian shivered. She was powerless to resist. She could only let the young man inch forward, his bloody finger coming closer and closer to her eyes.

"This is how it is," he said.

Luo Xianxian whimpered and closed his eyes. She was really afraid that this madman would, on a whim, poke out her eyes like they were fruit.

But the young man didn't poke them.

The other coldly said to her: "Didn't you teach me the saying that wealth couldn't be lusted after and poverty couldn't be changed? I've also got something to tell you."

"Hmm. . ."

"Open your eyes."

Luo Xianxian's eyes were tightly closed. The young girl laughed in exasperation and hissed: "Don't be like that. Open your eyes!"

". . . Do you think I won't be able to gouge your eyes out if you have them closed?!"

Luo Xianxian forced her round eyes open, her slender eyelashes trembling, and tears streaming down her face which looked pitiful and fearful. She wasn't sure how to make this stranger happy. He suddenly let go of her cheek, his hand lingering in the air, and then gently patted her head.

He gazed into her eyes, and a trembling smile shook from the corner of his mouth. His smile was distorted, ferocious, and just a bit miserable.

He said: "There are men in Linyi. Twenty of them are dead."

After he spoke, he turned around and his figure sank into the darkness and gradually disappeared.

Only the mess on the ground was the only evidence that such a person, covered in blood in the middle of the night, had been here.

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#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #bl novel #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei novel #danmei #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun

158 notes · View notes

hurting-fictional-people · 3 years

Text

Okay guys, so I think I’m getting attached to these characters and might have more ideas for them... so please let me know if you’d be interested in seeing more?

CW: (putting them here because tumblr decided to be weird about my tags tonight) a whole lot of angst and betrayal, stabbed whumpee (recovering from it... kinda), collar and chains, IV mention. Please tell me if I missed something

Continued from here

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer and @swift-perseides

“You said you’d set Whumpee free if I gave you the information,” someone hisses somewhere above them.

The timbre of that voice is a familiar caress, soothing the uneasiness that threatened to take over as soon as consciousness approached. Still, there’s a sharp edge to it that propels Whumpee’s eyes to flutter open, even as it calms the fear.

“Can you prove it?”

That’s the sound that truly awakens them. The sound they hoped never to hear again, that sends chills down their spine and makes them squint their eyes against the dim light and groggily look around.

“Can I p– you know you said it, Whumper. Stop fucking around,” Caretaker growls. “If you don’t want to let me go, then fine. Keep me here. Torture me if you will. But leave them alone.”

“Ah, to be young and in love,” Whumper sighs.

Someone towers over Whumpee, large shoulders they know better than their own stand by their bed, restraining their line of sight to the wall to their right and the one in front of their bed.

“I gave you what you wanted. Now let them go.”

Before they can think about it, before they can even truly remember where they are or why or with whom, their hand reaches out and touches the soft skin of Caretaker’s arm, making them stiffen and turn around with a furrowed brow over softening eyes.

“You’re awake.”

It’s the worry underneath the words that brings it all back. The betrayal months before, all the hurt and bitterness, and then those last hours – minutes? – with a hole in their abdomen silently draining their life away, suffocating in pain.

They pull their hand back.

“What happened?” Whumpee rasps out, only then noticing how dry their throat feels.

They know what happened. Every second of it is etched on their mind forever, but the question still slips out, the need for reassurance bigger than anything else.

“I got you fixed,” Caretaker gives them a sad smile, “just like I promised I would.”

“Actually, I got you fixed,” Whumper says, walking around Caretaker to stop in front of Whumpee’s bed. “You’re welcome.”

Whumpee’s eyes dart between the two of them, narrowing at the way Whumper’s gaze shines with something dark while Caretaker holds themself statue still.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Whumper asks.

“Like I’ve been stabbed,” they grumble, frowning when Whumper chuckles. “Why am I not dead?”

“Poor thing, you were really out of it, weren’t you?” Whumper smiles as they hold Whumpee’s ankle through the sheets and rub circles that would’ve been calming coming from anyone else. “Caretaker took the deal in the end. Almost too late, but my doctors are pretty good, so you should heal just fine. If given proper time, that is.”

“So, what now?” they ask, half wanting to just close their eyes and pretend to still be asleep. Their throat pleads for water, but they don’t want to ask either of them, so they just swallow saliva and pretend it helps.

“Well, that’s a question for Caretaker to answer,” Whumper says, turning toward the third person in the room, the one keeping disturbingly silent, arms crossed and jaw clenched. Probably regretting saving them in the first place.

But Caretaker doesn’t say anything. All they do is glare at Whumper from their spot beside Whumpee’s bed.

“What do you mean?” Whumpee asks after a few seconds, stifling a yawn, eyelids pleading to close.

“They mean that they have no word,” Caretaker snaps. “Whumper wants to make another bargain even though they never fulfilled the first one.”

“Fine. But why am I here?” Whumpee whispers, forcing their eyes to stay open long enough to hear the answer.

“Because you’re the bargaining chip, lovely,” Whumper smirks, squeezing Whumpee’s ankle until they gasp.

Whumpee’s heart drops to the floor, and then lower.

Caretaker has saved them once, which was a miracle in itself. Expecting them to do it twice is just too much.

“Can we discuss this later, since you don’t seem inclined to negotiate right now?” Caretaker nods toward the door. “Whumpee needs to rest.”

“I guess they will be needing their strength very soon if you don’t change your mind,” Whumper sighs, winking at Whumpee as they walk to the door. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for now.”

The lock clicks behind them, but neither Caretaker nor Whumpee acknowledges it. They’re too busy staring at each other to do much else.

Deep bags mar the skin under Caretaker’s eyes, just like it always happens when they don’t get enough sleep, and Whumpee hates themself for still remembering that.

“Why did you–“ save me, Whumpee tries to say, but their voice fails when a dry cough makes their chest heave and their wound hurt.

Caretaker is immediately leaning close, one hand splayed on their back and the other on their tight, each touch raising goosebumps along their skin. “W-water,” they rasp, closing their eyes at the humiliation.

But Caretaker doesn’t seem to notice how defeated Whumpee’s eyes are, how their cheeks burn red for having to ask them for something so simple. They simply grab a plastic water bottle from the bedside table and hand it to Whumpee. They gulp down the entire thing.

“How are you feeling?” Caretaker asks once they sag back on the mattress.

“Like shit.”

It’s true, but the irritated tone is nothing but a defense mechanism, and they fear as much as they hope that Caretaker notices it.

The pain is a constant weight in Whumpee’s stomach, and the medication slowly dripping into their veins through an IV makes them nauseous and sleepy, but none of it makes Whumpee any less confused or sad whenever they look at Caretaker.

Why did Caretaker save them? A blurry memory tickles their brain, of sobs that didn’t come from their lips, of trembling hands holding theirs, warm lips kissing their forehead when they couldn’t convince their eyes to stay open anymore. It dissolves before they can grasp it, leaving only an empty feeling behind.

“You should sleep,” Caretaker says when the silence grows uncomfortable.

“Are you regretting saving me already?” Whumpee whispers, averting their gaze.

“What? No.” It sounds so real they almost believe it. They want to, so badly, but they’d already made the mistake of trusting Caretaker once before. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There’s a hurt edge to their voice that makes Whumpee’s eyebrows rise as they look Caretaker straight in the eye. “Tell you what?”

“What Whumper did. That you were bleeding out.”

Oh.

“You could’ve died, Whumpee. You almost did. If you had just told me they had stabbed you, it would never have gotten to that point.”

“Why do you sound so angry? You’re the one who taught me not to trust anyone. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you but I’d do it again’, remember? You are the one who said those words. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it would matter.”

Caretaker furrows their brows, opens their mouth, and turns around. Before they do, though, Whumpee catches the flash of pain and sadness crossing their eyes and pretends not to notice the glint of tears there.

The seconds tick by, and as the silence extends, pain and exertion make Whumpee’s eyes take longer and longer to open each time they blink. They are almost asleep when Caretaker’s voice sounds again.

“It’s not true, you know. It would’ve mattered. It’ll always matter when it comes to you.”

But Whumpee is already dreaming once they stop talking.

“So, have you made your choice?” Whumper asks from behind a ridiculously large desk. Caretaker folds their arms and doesn’t fight the will to bare their teeth. “We’ve talked through it already, Caretaker. It won’t even be any sort of bother, you just have to go in, pretend I let you free, and come back with the drive I gave you.”

“You and I both know it’s not that simple. You want me to infiltrate my own team, lie to their faces, and hand our biggest enemy a drive filled with classified information,” they bite back, hands curling into fists.

“Well, you can always say no,” Whumper leans back in their chair and grins. “You know I’ll even let you walk out if you do. And then I’ll have a pretty little pet to play with. The only downside is that dear Whumpee won’t last very long as my plaything with that wound of theirs.”

The words might as well be a blade sinking into their heart. And Whumper knows it, relishes the knowledge, laughing when Caretaker holds their breath.

It’s been three days since Whumpee’s woken up. Three days of poorly hiding the desperate need to be by their side, to make sure nothing would ever hurt them again. Three days of knowing that each small noise of pain Whumpee lets out, each hazy look they get whenever Caretaker says something kind or offers help, each distrustful glance, it’s all Caretaker’s fault.

Whumper doesn’t even bother hiding how much pleasure they take from locking Caretaker up until they can’t help but bang on the door and beg to see Whumpee. And when they do, it’s only to be hit by a new wave of pain breaking against their heart, flooding their veins with sorrow every time their eyes meet.

“Don’t fucking touch them,” Caretaker spits out, taking a step forward before they can stop themself.

“Is that a ‘yes Whumper, I agree with your terms’ I’m hearing, dear?”

“How can I trust you won’t hurt them while I’m gone?”

Whumper’s lips tug upwards, growing into a mocking, open smile. “You can’t. And I won’t even bother promising I won’t. So if I were you, I’d hurry up, because each second you try to stall me makes me even more excited to play with little Whumpee, and I don’t think they’ll appreciate my games as much as I will.”

It’s almost funny how a handful of words is capable of completely shattering someone’s heart, of stealing the ground from under their feet and filling them with dread all at once.

“Don’t you dare touch them,” Caretaker says, but it’s scared and quivery and both of them notice. “How the fuck do you expect me to leave with you saying you’ll hurt Whumpee?”

“Do they know how much you care about them?” Whumper muses, getting up and sauntering around the table. “Because I remember rather clearly Whumpee telling me you’d sooner offer them ruin than help.”

“What do you care?” they say through clenched teeth.

“It’s just intriguing how desperate you are to keep them safe and how oblivious they are of it. What did you do to make them so distrustful of you?”

Tore their heart apart with my bare hands. The answer comes to their mind unbidden, bringing a sharp twist of pain along with it. They can still see Whumpee’s shocked face, tears streaming down their cheeks, eyes desperately searching theirs for an excuse that wasn’t there for a treason they had no way to deny, no matter how much they wished to. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I did it for the greater good, and I’d do it again, Caretaker had said with all the pride and coldness a soldier could master.

They had kept their own tears for later, when no one could see them shatter.

“Is your life so miserable you have to feed off of someone else’s or are you just a nosy bastard?”

Whumper laughs, and they wish they could punch that laugh out of that smug face. “I’ll give you the details now and you’ll leave tomorrow. And just because of the insult you won’t get to say goodbye to Whumpee.”

Caretaker glares in response but doesn’t argue. They don’t deserve to be near Whumpee, not after everything, and are pretty sure Whumpee wouldn’t want it either. Besides, the simple thought of seeing the face they love so fiercely fill with suspicion each time Caretaker opens their mouth makes them want to weep.

Still, as long as they are alive to do so, Caretaker will gladly take the suspicion and anything else Whumpee throws at them. They deserve far worse anyway.

Each breath Whumpee takes hurts, and they are about to start crying out of frustration when the door opens. They don’t dare recognize the sharp tug of disappointment in their heart when the face that appears isn’t Caretaker’s.

“Good morning, love, how’s that wound?”, Whumper asks.

“Fine.” There’s an air of amusement around them that makes Whumpee shiver, even if they don’t know exactly why. “Where’s Caretaker?”

It leaves their lips before it hits their brain, and Whumpee has to bite their tongue to avoid slapping their forehead for it. Stupid. Caretaker shouldn’t mean anything to them anymore.

“Oh, dear. You still care about them, don’t you?”

Whumpee doesn’t even open their mouth, not when the answer they can voice would be a blatant lie and they’d both know it.

“It’s really unfortunate to have feelings for someone who doesn’t reciprocate them, isn’t it?” Whumper says, drinking in the slight frown between Whumpee’s brows, the way they look away to hide how much the words hurt them.

Before the wave of bitterness can crash over Whumpee, Whumper nods to someone outside the room and two guards step inside.

Their heart starts to pound, thrumming louder at each step the men take toward them.

“What, what’s going on?”

“We’re going somewhere else today, love. I assumed you needed the help to walk.”

They are shaking their head before Whumper even finishes the sentence. With a smile stretching across their face, they raise their brows, as if inviting Whumpee to do it themself.

They know what’s going to happen even before it does, and by the glee on Whumper’s face they do too, but Whumpee still kicks the thin blanket away and gets up on wobbly legs before taking two steps forward. On the third, the pain becomes unbearable. On the fourth, they can’t help but hold their injury and hunch their shoulders. Whumper watches them with mock concern as Whumpee stumbles out of the room. When they finally fall to their knees two steps later, Whumper simply tuts from their spot against the door.

“I guess you did need the help, huh?” they say, and Whumpee catches only a glance of their smile as they wave for the guards.

Two pairs of hands grab Whumpee’s arms and pull them up, and they can’t hold back a scream when it makes their entire abdomen explode in pain.

They are hauled over countless hallways, into a room made of concrete walls and nothing more, barely big enough for all of them.

“Please,” they breathe. “What are you doing? What about your deal with Caretaker?”

“Caretaker left, Whumpee.”

It’s the softness in their voice that makes Whumpee’s head turn to them, all wide eyes and parted lips.

“The bargain we told you about was for them to either betray their team and keep you safe or go away and leave you behind. They made their choice.”

Whumpee can only stare at Whumper’s sympathetic smile. The words take a while to truly sink in, and when they do, all Whumpee does is take a deep breath.

They’d been expecting this all along, they tell themself. They knew they couldn’t trust Caretaker, knew they’d never come first. They know it, they do. But then why does it hurt so much?

“And you see, Caretaker’s leaving made me kind of mad,” Whumper says as Whumpee is dumped on the cell’s cold floor, falling on all fours. “Betrayals make me bloodthirsty, I’m sure you’ll understand. And since you’re mine now, how can I resist it?”

Whumpee’s mouth dries at that. Terror shoots through their veins at the same time sadness tightens their heart.

The two men who’d carried them there take a step forward at the words and grab chains from a hook behind the door they hadn’t noticed before. As the chains are hung on metal loops attached to the wall, Whumpee realizes how wrong they’d been. The cell walls aren’t completely barren after all.

And when the guards crouch down in front of them, Whumpee can barely find strength through the panic and the pain radiating from their stomach to fight.

They do, though. Even when it burns and sends waves of dizziness down their body, Whumpee thrashes in hands that don’t budge, jerks against grips that only tighten.

But none of it matters when metal cuffs lock around both their wrists, nor when the chain is shortened until their arms are pulled straight above their head, back touching the wall. At least they are still sitting. Not that they could get up if they wanted to.

“Whumper, pl–“

But it isn’t over yet, they realize when another shiny gray circle approaches. Whumpee lets out a choked whine, but it’s all they can do before the collar closes around their throat and locks their neck to the wall as well. An uninvited sob escapes their lips, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it either.

“You look beautiful in chains, love,” Whumper says from the door, grinning with sadistic satisfaction at Whumpee’s weakness.

Humiliation tinges their cheeks red when Whumper’s gaze travels up and down their body. Chained, collared, like a dog, unable to do more than wiggle their arms and weakly kick their legs.

“Why are you doing this?” Whumpee asks, voice airy and desperate, searching for an explanation they know isn’t there.

“Because I wanted to. Because it brings me joy to see you struggle. I wouldn’t keep thrashing like that, though, you’ll wear yourself out very quickly with that unfortunate wound of yours, and we don’t want this to end too soon, do we?”

They leave the cell with a giggle and a wave of goodbye, and when the door doesn’t lock behind them, Whumpee almost chokes on a bitter laugh.

The cell is big enough for them to lie down straight if the chains weren’t keeping them tightly tied to the wall. But as time goes by, it seems to get smaller and smaller, closing in on them with each ragged breath Whumpee takes. The chains clink together as they squirm, but there’s no give. Their wound hurts through it all, burning with each movement, but stopping feels like giving up and if they do, then what?

No one knows where they are but Caretaker and they’ve already made it clear they won’t help. They’ve already given up on Whumpee, left them once again.

No one cares. There is no saving this time.

Whumpee chokes on rage and grief as tears stream down their cheeks, for a love that should never have been born, for the heart that has been broken in so many pieces they don’t know how it can still find strength enough to keep beating in their chest.

Whumpee stares at the gray walls and feels a scream building, and there’s no one there to stop it from bursting out, containing all of their anger and sadness and betrayal and spilling it over to the world. But even though it’s left their chest, the cry keeps echoing, bouncing around the walls, and none of the feelings are gone. They are all still there, still boiling inside of Whumpee.

So Whumpee sobs and pulls at the chains until their wrists are raw and bleeding, and don’t stop until both their strength and their voice are gone and there’s nothing else to do but sag on the chains.

Caretaker is in the elevator when the phone Whumper’s given them buzzes. Seven floors to go before they have to face their team. A few seconds before they have to betray the people who are nothing less than their family.

Even so, it’s not that thought that sends a shiver down their spine.

No one but Whumper has that number. The phone was given to them with specific instructions to be used solely to communicate with them. It’s Whumpee’s wide eyes that shine in their mind when Caretaker unlocks the phone, and it’s the memory of their smile that makes Caretaker’s heart race as they stare at the text and the video attached to it.

Got bored. You better hurry up.

Their hand trembles as they click on the video and Whumpee’s thin figure fills the screen, arms chained above their head, legs loose on the ground in front of them. Their eyes are closed, and for an instant, Caretaker’s heart stops in fear. But then Whumpee’s head starts to loll forward before being violently pulled back, and at the same time relief makes Caretaker suck in a sharp breath, the thing shining around Whumpee’s neck makes their heart sink through the floor.

The collar surrounds the soft skin Caretaker’s tasted more than once, marring the perfect curve of their throat. When it yanks their head back, it hits the wall behind them and their eyes snap open. Whumpee stares at the ceiling for a moment before their mouth opens in a scream Caretaker feels in their soul, even if they can’t hear it. They feel it with their whole heart, and when Whumpee starts pulling against the chains, Caretaker thinks they’ll puke.

The video ends with them panting silently through the soundless video, the glint of tears wetting their cheeks.

And then the elevator stops, and Caretaker barely has two seconds to wipe away their own tears before the doors open.

When their teammates run toward them, none of them sees the way their eyes shine for the dread it is.

As they smile and let lie after lie slip through their teeth, the only thing resounding in their mind is Whumpee’s silent screams. And as they deceive and betray, no one seems to notice the way their hands tremble or how they can’t convince their lips to smile no matter how happy they should’ve been to be back with the team. Not when the ten seconds keep playing over and over again inside their mind.

(next)

#whump #whump writing #betrayal whump #injured whumpee #emotional whump #lovers to enemies #forced to watch #angst #betrayal story

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