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timextoxhajima · 4 years

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Member: lee jaehyun aka hyunjae from tbz cause i feel like there are too many jaehyuns around now ;_; my heart can’t take too many perfect men of the same name

Genre: COLLEGE... CRUSH? idk this is probably gonna be my most crack piece (you can already tell by the track)

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: I wrote this at like 1.30am so please bear with me lol my inspiration always come in the middle of the night because it’s so quiet and conducive

this will be a one shot cause i’ve got no fucking clue how to make it into a series/short novel without an actual conflict/angst/drama involved :”) if you’re a writer and you see this and you want to make a 2nd part or something, BE MY GUEST

lee hyun jae.

who was he to me?

oh, i don’t know.

just the prettiest but handsomest man alive. if that’s even a word.

he’s always surrounded by like, eleven other boys who are also good-looking and talented in some way or another.

god must’ve invested his entire life into crafting these fine, fine specimens of men to be placed on earth.

maybe there was a mix up somewhere and they were supposed to be angels or demi-gods and god just fucked up.

but i’ve got no complaints.

i’m satisfied that i get to feast my eyes on such a gorgeous, rare, one-of-a-kind version of a person i’m sure exists nowhere else in the world.

he’s known for being one of the most caring ones of the group. he’d make his friends laugh but watch out for them at the same time. he’s so easygoing, i wonder if he’d smile at me if i tripped him over or something.

you might think i’m exaggerating.

well,

i’m not.

so who am i to him?

sadly, nobody.

harsh truth.

there was absolutely nothing wrong with the man. there was a lack of flaw, and that was literally the only flaw he had. if it could even be considered as a flaw. i could spend my seconds, minutes, hours, days, just staring at him. it was so unfair that there is NOTHING WRONG WITH HIM.

sometimes it pisses me off.

it kind of pisses me off that he doesn’t have a girlfriend despite half the school simping over him.

i mean, who wouldn’t? just look at him.

there have been rumors flying about that he was gay or something.

doesn’t matter if he is gay though.

it simply hurts to know he’s not dating anybody.

it’ll be such a waste if such a man ends up living a life alone. a waste indeed.

so what was it that was stopping me from putting that destiny of his to a screeching stop?

well, there was just one problem.

“hELLO, earth to y/n?” the sudden waving in your face with the heaviest textbook in your curriculum snaps you back into reality.

“which one of the twelve are you thinking up some magical fantasy over now?” your best friend frowns at you, the vein on her arm popping from the weight of the fat textbook.

“ah-- it doesn’t matter who i’m daydreaming about, let me have my moment, would you?” you lean back in your seat, disgruntled at her telling you what not to do with your own imagination. sometimes it was difficult to look at her without seeing all the little hints of lee hyunjae in her.

they had the same nose, but that was it. honestly, it was a miracle you just happened to make friends with one of the prettiest girls in school, and good for you, she ended up becoming your friend and stayed in that position for more than a decade. naturally, she was upgraded to the ‘best friend’ title.

the biggest issue you had with lee hee jae was that she hated her brother getting so much attention, and she has always condemned him about it.

which was pretty ironic, given the number of love letters that show up in her locker everyday.

but thanks to her cold, a-little-more-than-mean superficial personality, most guys don’t have enough of a pair to talk to her in person. sure, she won’t hesitate to stab a bitch, but you knew her well enough to know that if the love of her life, son young jae, were to suddenly sprout feelings for her and confess, she might just nose bleed and pass out.

but does she know you have had the biggest, fattest crush on her older brother?

no.

she’d kidnap you and torture you and brainwash you to unlike him.

maybe that’s why he hasn’t got any girlfriends.

“you’re zoning out again,” she snaps her finger in your ear and the sharp click jumps you. you bare your teeth in annoyance and feign a hit towards her, but she doesn’t flinch.

your little high school crush on her brother wasn’t getting any weaker as the years went by. in fact, it’s been getting stronger. now that you’ve seen the way he treats his friends, how kind and considerate he was, not to mention that body-- well--

let’s just say you went from just appreciating his face, to everything in general. it was only a matter of time before she finds out that the one man you were simping over out of the eleven boys was her brother.

of the eleven boys, it just had to be her brother.

“hee jae,” you pull out a pencil and start to randomly doodle in your notebook. “haven’t you ever considered talking to eric?”

she shoots you a death glare, but you’re used to it.

“i thought we agreed not to speak of this in school!” she leans into you and hisses, eyes piercing right through your head. if her eyes had lazers, your head would’ve been blasted off completely after years of her angry glaring.

“no, but eric just seems so... chill, y’know? he’s either cleaning his table and packing his stuff or outside playing baseball, there’s literally nothing stopping you from talking to him.”

she rolls her eyes and snatches your pencil away from you in a bid to piss you off so you’d stop talking.

“give it back--” you snatch the stationery from her and hiss at her like a cat. “you’re literally in the damn baseball team with him. it’s not that difficult to make up a story and start a conversation with him.”

“ha,” she’s finally mastered the art of fake laughter. “easy for you to say. you simp for all eleven of them and can’t choose one for you to worry about it like i do.”

that was fun to hear.

“well, forget eric,” she waves it off. “are we doing anything after school?”

anything but going to your house. i don’t want to be stuck under the same roof as your brother, my heart would get a seizure and i’ll probably die on the spot.

“my mom’s making crepes today, and i know you love that shit,” hee jae snickers, pulling out a baseball from her bag and throwing it into the air and catching it.

“aw, man... not the crepes,” you pout and side eye her, leaning back into your seat.

“why are you so uptight about going to my place? you’ve been there a billion fucking times, you literally live there now.”

that’s cause i’m only over when your brother isn’t around!

“ugh, okay fine. but i gotta dash home first to grab some homework. i left some of it at home ‘cause i wasn’t expecting an invitation today.”

she squeals, showing you a part of her that nobody else has the privilege of seeing. “sick,” she gets out of the seat she dragged to yours and brings it back to where she took it from. “call my home number and tell me you’re on your way before you leave your house!”

you nod un-enthusiastically, waving her off before she leaves the classroom and returns to hers.

you were finally back at home, showered and changed into comfortable clothes while you shoved all your homework into your bag. you leave your parents a text to tell them that you’d spend the afternoon and evening at heejae’s so they don’t have to worry about your dinner, then you dial her home number.

the phone was on it’s eighth ring, and you were already one foot out of the door. usually, it doesn’t take her that long to pick up the phone.

“this little bitch invites me over and doesn’t pick up the damn--”

“hello?”

your grip tightens around your phone and you stumble out of your house, the door swinging shut behind jumps you and you process the voice on the other end of the line.

“uh--”

“is this y/n?”

“uh... yeah, this is she.”

he knows me?

shut up, of course he knows you. you’ve been friends with his sister for a decade!

“oh, okay, cool. heejae’s in the toilet right now and she said she’ll get it but i couldn’t stand the sound of the phone ringing.”

“ah...” your voice trails off, unsure of how to respond. you were just preoccupied with how soothing his voice was, and just imagining his face with the phone to his ear on the other line was just so--

“hello? y/n? you there?”

“yeah, yeah, sorry i was... crossing a road.” you weren’t even moving; you were just planted into the pavement like a tree.

“actually, why don’t i go and pick you up? your place is on the way to the shopping mall and my mom just told me to go get some groceries, do you want to tag along? we can head back to my place afterwards and you can get the crepes you like.”

where in the world was he getting all this information from?

“uh--” you stammer into the receiver for the billionth time. he must think you have some kind of speech problem by now.

“you know what? just hang tight for a few minutes. heejae’s still in the bathroom so she doesn’t get a say in what i do if i decide it without her presence,” you hear him walk around on the house and call out for his mom to tell her he was leaving for the shopping mall. “you live on 31st avenue, right? the white house with the blue roof?”

“uH--” you really need to get a grip on yourself.

“i guessed. hang tight, i’ll be there in a sec! see you!”

hyunjae doesn’t bother to wait for you to hang up before he does. the line goes dead and the beep nearly deafens you, but you couldn’t believe your ears. you were about to be in the same vehicle as lee hyun jae. one of the most popular boys in school, the handsomest man alive, the love of your li--

whoa.

too fast.

you shake the nonsensical daydreams out of your head and walk back to the steps of your door. while waiting, you can’t help but to let the quiet crush on him run your mind recklessly.

what if he was just messing with you and he’s just chilling at home? what if he knows that you have a crush on him and he’s just having fun? what if he thinks you’re weird for hanging out with his sister? what if he’s caught you staring and he thinks you’re a creep? oh my god, what if heejae’s told him embarrassing stories about you and now he’s going to poke fun at you with that?

you stare blankly at the little weeds in the cracks of the pavement, the thoughts in your head running wild as you slowly convince yourself he’s not going to turn up.

but the familiar silver family car rolls up at the end of the pavement, and the windows roll down to reveal hyunjae in sunglasses wearing a simple white tee-shirt.

“did i keep you waiting?” he pushes down his sunglasses and looks at you over the rim, one arm dangling outside the window.

you shake your head, suddenly losing all ability to speak.

“alrighty then, get in. we’re heading for the shopping mall.” he nods his head towards the car, retracting his arm back into the vehicle.

your heart was thumping so aggressively and so loudly you were sure he could hear it. hell, he could probably see it.

“how’s school? i haven’t seen you around back in my house after... what, about five years? you were always around when i was out, if i didn’t know better, i’d think you were avoiding me,” his voice was so alluring, you had to constantly remind yourself that he was actually saying something.

“uh-- well....”

come on, say something. anything.

“i guess god just doesn’t want us to meet.”

no, it’s because you were avoiding him. what the flying fuck was that?

he laughs heartily, his teeth catching the light of the afternoon sun and glistens in your vision. “if that’s the case then god really needs to give me a break.”

your little-crush-on-him morphs into a tiny character in your head and it starts yelling at you. did he just say what you think he just said?

“no, i mean,” he glances at you, hands still on the steering wheel once he notices you’ve gone eerily silent. “i would’ve spoken to you and tried to be actual friends with you sooner, but heejae never wants me talking to her friends. you can imagine how she is with her best friend.”

you sigh heavily, the mention of your best friends’ name loosening some knots in your stomach. “lee hee jae is just something. not sure what, but something.”

“it does baffle me to think about how you put up with her for what, nine years now?”

you were looking out the window, and the idea of being in the same car as hyunjae doesn’t seem as tormenting as it seemed once you realise the best support you’ve had for the last ten years was lee hee jae.

“eleven, actually,” you say without looking at him, eyes zeroing on a couple walking a dog on the pavement by the road. “yeah i guess she can be a handful sometimes, especially with how cold and mean she is on the outside...”

the car stops at a traffic junction.

“but put her in front of one guy and she’ll pass the fu--”

“‘one guy’?” he interrupts.

your eyes widen and you suck your lips between your teeth, wincing a little to yourself when you realise what you just said.

“lee hee jae has a crush on someone?” you hear him scoff and a brotherly chuckle rushes out his lips. “do you know who it is?”

you were about to protest and stop him from trying to dig the information that you nearly disclosed, but he interrupts you again.

“y’know what? don’t tell me. i’ll guess. i’ll just watch your reactions while i’m at it.”

you grit your teeth and tighten your temples. you don’t realise how sweaty your palms were until your phone slides out from underneath your skin when the car starts to move.

“is it kevin? no wait-- doesn’t feel like it.”

is he going to just start talking on his own until he finds someone he thinks suits her and then look at my face to read my expression?

“i don’t think she’s the kind to go for someone older than me or my age. so that takes sangyeon, jacob, younghoon-- is it younghoon? no, it’s not... ah, no matter how i think about it, someone nearer your age pops up. haknyeon, sunwoo, eric. it’s one of the three.”

that wasn’t so hard. hee jae must be easy for her brother to read.

“are you really going to let me play this elimination game alone?” he raises a brow and turns the wheel, driving into the car park of the shopping mall. the little gesture causes your heart to involuntarily skip a beat, and you could see his eyes folding even behind the sunglasses when he turns his head.

“your sister would kill me if she knew i even started this conversation, so i’m just refraining from deepening my grave.”

you hear him laugh through his nose. “relax, i’m not going to tell her you said this. i’ve seen the way she looks at us whenever we’re in school. she gives me a look of disgust but she always reserves a blush on her cheeks for someone. i just can’t put my finger on who it is.”

“you mean you notice the way she looks at you and your friends? that’s a little weird.”

the car starts to reverse into a parking lot and he pulls the gears into parking mode. there was a short silence in the air as he lays his finger on the start up button of the car and he turns to look at you, now without the sunglasses to block your view of his eyes.

“you’d be surprised that i notice a lot of things.”

he flashes you a smile and reaches for the door on his side, pushing himself out as if he didn’t just expose both you and your best friend.

you were just tailing hyunjae while he told you what was on the grocery list, and you start filling the basket. he doesn’t stop guessing though, but the entire time spent with him only made you feel like he was so comfortable to be around.

besides his pretty face, of course.

you were waiting for him to pay for the items while you stood outside when heejae’s caller ID showed up on your phone screen.

“where the hell are you?”

“hello to you too,” you roll your eyes. “your brother said he was going to get me and now we’re shopping for groceries before we return to your place. didn’t your mom tell you?”

“what? no, she didn’t. she just told me he went out to get groceries.”

“huh?” you look over your shoulder to see hyunjae paying the cashier. “are you saying that your mom lied about me?”

“now, why would she do that?”

“she’s your mom, not mine. why don’t you ask her instead?”

hyunjae picks up the grocery bags and walks towards you, looking into them and making sure he didn’t miss out anything.

“this is so fucking weird. where’s hyunjae? pass the phone to him,”

“we’re done, let’s go.” hyunjae stops by your side, noticing that you were on the phone.

“don’t you dare hang up on me, pass the phone to him!” hee jae screams into the receiver. you wince and pull it away from your ear, shooting hyunjae a look of slight confusion as you hand him the phone.

“it’s your sister.”

he sighs and places the bags on the floor, wiping his hands on his pants before taking it.

you could hear hee jae screaming at him on the other end, but hyunjae’s face doesn’t change one bit besides that sweet smile plastered to his lips while he let his sister berate him. hyunjae got bored extremely quickly, and he was already removing the phone from his ear while he repeated the word ‘bye’ into the receiver.

he hands the phone back to you and hangs it up for you, picking up the bags and heading back to the car.

by the time you reach the road right outside their house, heejae was standing on the porch, anxiously tapping her foot on the wooden boards.

“oh, no,” he groans, looking out the window and observing heejae like she was a lion in the savannah. “well, just another day for us people who have to deal with miss lee.”

he says so coyly, pushing himself out of the car and going to open the door of the backseat. you help yourself out, and heejae storms toward you, fists balled by her side and steam coming out through her ears.

you thought she was going to scream at you for accepting a ride from hyunjae, but she dodges you and opens the backseat door opposite hyunjae to yell at him in the car.

“what made you think it was a great idea to pick her up? didn’t we have a deal that both our friends were out of bounds to each other?”

wait what--

“yah, lee hyunjae!” she yells at the top of her voice as he ignores her, pulling out of the car and walking towards the house. “we had a deeeeeaaaaaaal!”

you grab onto heejae and turn her around, trying to peel her attention away from her brother and to you so you could get a grasp on what she just said.

“did you just say what i think you just said?!” you blink in surprise at her, and the thought of hyunjae finding an excuse just to spend time with you melts you into a puddle of hopeless goop.

“no,” she says with a stern face, lifting a finger and pointing at you in the face. “no.”

“well--” she yanks herself out of your grip and turns to the house. “what’s so bad about dating your siblings’ friends? you like eric.”

she literally screeches to a stop and turns around with eyes that were burning. honestly, it was pretty funny to see her so riled up, knowing that she wasn’t angry at you. she was angry with hyunjae for... whatever he did, and the fact that she just had to fall for someone in hyunjae’s circle of friends. it was a slap in her face, or whoever thought about the no-dating-siblings’-friends pact.

“is that why you don’t want to talk to eric? because of this... deal?” you raise a brow, entertained, completely forgetting that there was the slightest chance that hyunjae might’ve been looking for an excuse to hang out with you, and he had just succeeded.

she had no words, but her silence was enough to let you unpack the situation.

“ah... i see,” you fold your arms across your chest and smirk at her. then you remember you were standing right outside lee hyunjae’s house. this was your chance to dig the information out from her. “so if this deal is stopping you from talking to eric, then is it safe to assume that it’s similar for hyunjae?”

you could see her bottom lip quivering upon your question, as she realises that you’ve finally found out why she was keeping a distance from her own teammate. but her silence also pushes you further into confusion. does that mean--

“look, you can’t date hyunjae, okay? i forbid it. the last time a girl dated someone in that group of friends of his, they broke up because she got bullied by other girls in school. i told hyunjae he wasn’t allowed to date any of my friends so i wouldn’t need to beat the fuck out of any bullies and get myself expelled,” she huffed and hugged her torso. “and i made him agree to that deal by promising him that neither i nor any of my friends would date his.”

you shake your head, fingers pressing into your temples and hair while you let the story unfold from her narration.

“my mom didn’t tell me about him going to get you because... well... he--”

“i like you!”

your heart stops and you think your blood stopped flowing through you as well. heejae’s head snaps back to look at the house and the source of noise, and she pulls out a shoe to hurl it at hyunjae.

“ah--!” he starts yelling once she reaches him with the shoe. “let me at least try, god damn it! sunwoo only let his girlfriend get bullied because he’s a dumbass-- ow! but i’m not gonna let her get bullied, i promise!”

you slowly turn your head to see hyunjae trying to dodge every hit, and he starts running away from her and toward you. he pulls you in front of him so you were standing between him and heejae, who was holding onto the shoe so tightly, her knuckles were turning white.

“y/n, take a chance with me, would you? i’ve always noticed the both of you looking at us but it always bothered me that i have no idea who either of you are looking at--”

he dodges a side swing, and your view of heejae trying to reach him was pretty hilarious, if you weren’t acting as his shield.

“what makes you think she’ll say yes?! she can’t even choose--”

“i do, heejae,” finally, you’ve decided to shoot your shot. heejae freezes with the shoe in mid-air, and hyunjae’s hold on your shoulders tighten. “i’ve only said i can’t choose only because i didn’t want you to know that it was your brother i liked.”

you couldn’t believe what was coming out of your mouth. all that effort to keep it hidden only to expose yourself infront of both heejae and her brother at once?!

she looked like she wanted to slap you with the shoe now, and you flinch when she shifts, closing your eyes to brace for impact.

but it doesn’t come.

you open one eye and look at her, and she looked like she’s completely resigned to fate. she shakes her head like your mother would when you did something stupid, and she squats to get her shoe back on her feet.

“i give up,” she grunts, shoving her feet into her shoe and tying the laces messily before standing up again. “of all eleven of them, him?” she raises an agitated brow and points to the boy hiding behind you.

“it wouldn’t have been so annoying if it had been one of his friends, but him?!”

you turn back to look at hyunjae, who was giving you puppy eyes as if he was already your boyf--

too fast.

“does it look like i chose to like him?” you pout, hands reaching out to her and trying to play for affection.

“for fucks’ sake,” she groans, face palming herself. “now i’m going to look like a shitty friend and sister if i don’t let you two date.”

“on the bright side..” you pull her into a hug and tighten your hold, knowing that whatever you were going to say next was going to warrant another violent outburst from her. “if hyunjae and i date, that means the deal’s broken and...”

“you can talk to eric now.”

“AH! SO IT’S ERIC?!”

#timetohajima #hyunjae #lee hyunjae #lee jaehyun #the boyz #the boyz hyunjae #the boyz one shot #the boyz scenario #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagine #hyunjae one shot #hyunjae scenario #hyunjae fanfic #hyunjae imagine #timetohajima playlist feels

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sachigram · 4 years

Note

hi it’s me scrambled (=´∀｀) I think a one shot about highschool Shizuo and Izaya dealing with homophobia would be really interesting (saw it an ask on glaces blog abt it) and I can’t stop thinking abt it, sounds really interesting and kinda angsty (please don’t kill anyone,,,smh,,) but still sounds good! You’re amazing I stan you too hard I love your writing and I love everything about it <3

((Thank you! <3 So you...want me to write about someone with a death wish???? You want me to write someone being an ass to Shizuo AND Izaya? Ooh boy.))

Everyone at school knows about Shizuo and Izaya. They're kind of infamous, especially with the way Izaya spreads rumors around. At first, they just fought all the time, but most of the time they could wait until they were out of school to come to blows. Usually, they wound up being caught by Simon and then dragged into Russia Sushi for the remainder of the afternoon. Izaya would make scathing comments in Russian, and then Shizuo would launch at him, and then Simon would say something like, “Izaya only say he wants pickled radish! Why so mad, ShiZUo?”

To this day, Shizuo doesn't really understand what changed between them. He thinks maybe he caught Izaya, and Izaya kissed him out of desperation. Or maybe Shizuo kissed Izaya first. Once their lips met the first time, it didn't really matter who kissed who. They just kept kissing, and Shizuo thinks it's much better than fighting with Izaya all the time, though they do still fight pretty often.

Being in a sort of relationship with Izaya has many perks, actually, one of which being Izaya can help with homework. Sometimes Izaya is a real dick about it and he gets off on watching Shizuo struggle, but other times, like today, he's informative and indulgent. He's winding his fingers through Shizuo's hair while chattering away about some mistake Shizuo made on the English homework, and Shizuo is struggling to listen to what he's saying.

They're on their lunch break. They always meet on the roof, and sometimes Shinra and Kadota will come too, but today is one of those days where it's just Shizuo and Izaya, and Izaya is being touchy, and Shizuo forgets all about the past, present, and future tense on his worksheet.

“Are you listening?” Izaya asks. “You're going to fail.”

“Shut up,” Shizuo says. He presses his face into Izaya's neck and breathes him in, his hands going to Izaya's back. “You're distracting me.”

“Don't blame me for your short attention span.” Izaya sounds gleeful, and knowing him, he's distracting Shizuo on purpose. He'd laugh for hours if Shizuo failed his class.

There's no one else around, and it really wouldn't matter if there were. Even the teachers will struggle to separate the two of them when they argue in the hallways and inevitably end up making out violently.

“I don't think I'm gonna get it even if you keep talking about it,” Shizuo says into Izaya's neck. He lifts his head. “There's better things we could do.”

“You could eat your lunch,” Izaya says, but he's smirking in that way of his. Shizuo used to want to punch it off Izaya's face, but now he likes to kiss it.

“Nah, I wanna eat you,” Shizuo says, and he pulls Izaya's lips to his. Kissing Izaya is one of Shizuo's favorite things to do. It shuts Izaya up, and it always becomes a challenge to get Izaya so worked up that he becomes compliant. It doesn't usually take too long, but Shizuo refrains from getting handsy since they're at school. His parents have been indulgent about the whole Izaya thing, but Shizuo thinks it's because they'd rather Shizuo be fucking Izaya than actively trying to kill him.

He nips at Izaya's tongue, and Izaya shivers before crawling forward and straddling Shizuo's lap. This is dangerous— If they get too worked up, Shizuo doesn't think they'll be able to stop. Still, Izaya is persuasive, and he's tugging at Shizuo's hair, and then...

There's some annoying noise that's not either of them.

Shizuo growls and pulls away from Izaya, who turns and raises an eyebrow. Shizuo follows his line of sight and observes some guy he's never seen before.

“Takeda-san,” Izaya says smoothly, like he's not hard in Shizuo's lap. “Did you need something?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Shizuo asks, already pissed they were interrupted.

“He just transferred to my class,” Izaya says, and Shizuo grumbles.

“Uh, yeah, I was coming to ask you about homework. A girl in class said you'd be here with your...uh. Friend.” Takeda looks very uncomfortable, and Shizuo doesn't like the way he's looking at Izaya.

“Ah. I'll help you after break. I'm a little busy,” Izaya says.

“Is this like. Allowed?”

“Why are you still here?” Shizuo barks, and the guy narrows his eyes. It's been a long time since anyone at school glared at Shizuo like that. Most people are afraid of him, but Izaya just said Takeda is a transfer.

“What do you mean? Kissing? I don't suppose it's allowed, but no one is going to stop us,” Izaya says, and he grins at Shizuo playfully. Shizuo hugs him closer and noses against his cheek, growling impatiently. Izaya giggles.

“I'd just think you'd be a little careful, since it's... I mean, you're both guys,” Takeda says.

“So?” Izaya asks, and the look in his eyes changes. Shizuo recognizes it well. It means Izaya is about to make this kid's life hell.

“I'll just ask someone else for help. Sorry to interrupt your time with your boyfriend,” Takeda says, clearly not all that sorry.

“It's really no problem,” Izaya says. “I can—“

“No. I don't wanna talk to a queer.”

Izaya sighs, and Shizuo is up on his feet in an instant, carrying Izaya right along with him.

“Say that again,” he says, walking right up to the fucker. “I dare you.”

“Look, it's my first day. I'll just avoid you from now on,” Takeda huffs. He's looking Shizuo up and down as if he's trying to gauge how strong Shizuo is.

“No, you already opened your fucking mouth. So say it again.”

“Yes, Takeda-san, call me another slur. They really get me going,” Izaya purrs.

“It's just gross, okay? It's fucking gross, and you'd think the two of you wouldn't be in broad daylight sucking face like that. You should be ashamed,” Takeda says, and Shizuo clenches his hands into fists.

“Apologize to Izaya, or I'm gonna throw you off the roof.” Shizuo feels immense anger, but he also feels strangely calm. Usually when he loses his temper, he feels guilty about it because the other person might not deserve it. Now, Shizuo doesn't feel the least bit guilty.

“Fuck that, I'm not saying sorry to that—“

Shizuo punches him before he can continue. Takeda flies backward, but he's on his feet again fairly quick. He lunges at Shizuo, who punches him again, harder this time, and uses Takeda's dazed state to lift him by the back of the shirt and carry him to the corner of the roof.

“Dangle him upside-down,” Izaya says, and Shizuo gives him a look.

“Why?”

“Why not?” Izaya shrugs.

“Oh, good point.”

By the time a teacher makes it to the roof, Takeda is crying in fear, all the blood rushed to his head, and Shizuo is holding him by one ankle, threatening loudly to let him fall.

Shizuo avoids suspension when Izaya explains what happened, though he's still in trouble, and his parents don't seem pleased with him. He honestly doesn't care though. He never really considered people like that before, someone having a problem with Shizuo kissing Izaya just because they're both guys. It seems so trivial.

“Most people aren't like you,” Izaya says when Shizuo mentions it. They’re exiting the school together, hand in hand. “They aren't scary and strong. They get bullied.”

“Do you get bullied when I'm not around?” Shizuo asks.

“No. I have a reputation on my own.” Izaya turns and grins at Shizuo. “You protected my honor today, Shizu-chan. Heiwajima Shizuo, defender of gay rights!” Izaya shouts it right in the middle of the sidewalk, and other people turn to stare at them.

“Shut up!” Shizuo huffs, swiping for him. Of course, Izaya dodges him.

“No cops at Pride, only Shizu-chan!” Izaya sings, dancing around, and Shizuo grumbles before giving up and letting Izaya get whatever the fuck this is out of his system. It feels good to see him happy about something other than someone suffering.

“Want to come over?” Izaya asks after he finishes flailing around. “I'm sure you don't really want to go home right now.”

“Are your sisters home?” Shizuo asks warily. He likes the twins, but he doesn't like the way they keep pestering him for pictures of his brother.

“Nope. They have martial arts today,” Izaya says. He bats his eyelashes. “You have me all to yourself!”

“Lucky me,” Shizuo says, and though he means it sarcastically, it comes out sounding sincere.

#asks #scrambledshizaya #shizaya #prompts #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima #homophobia #tw: q slur

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amomentintimeblackcattales · 3 years

Text

A Moment in Time - Descending in The Darkness

Descend of the Darkness

Fanfiction.

Pairing - Darkseid/Batman Bruce Wayne

suspense/mysteries/police/action/adventure/space/sci-fi/lemon/explicit/pwp/romance/yaoi/gay

comic

batman/new goods/ justice league

resume:

I don't know if it was once, it was in the battle of the dark multiverse alternative versions, discover countless hidden secrets and mysteries, he returns, plans, games with the hidden beings of the multiverse, does he win, the prize? travel through the multiverse, back, in conspiracies and plots, prevent future from happening, starting to relate to Darkseid have sex with him, both have plans, the new god having his own your plans, conspiracies, manipulatives and possessives desires PWP

Chapter - 00001

During their marriage, which lasted 6 months ...

It was a period when he faced the dark world, and saw something that only the other versions would see, it changed his pragmatic mind into something more interesting to see and do ...

Bruce realized that he had trouble relating, his connection with CatWoman, he realized that it was more ... Sexual, not emotional, he had difficulties connecting, so he went to make a plan to end this situation between them .. .

Some time later...

Bruce had to save the world, sometimes he hoped that Selina was relatively well in the mansion, or looking at the cave, but that's not what he found ...

When he arrested those villains, tied towards the police station, arriving at the cave with the batmobile ...

Alfred was waiting for him.

- There's a problem, sir. - Said his faithful butler, he had just arrived from a mission to rescue Kara from Apokolips, he felt guilty, and wanted to talk to the butler, but the air of the issue, made him stop and stop his thoughts and guilt.

- What there was? - He asked.

- Selina was arrested. - Said Alfred, he realized that by the air of the word.

- Why was Selina arrested ...? - Bruce asked walking towards his old friend.

- She was stealing. - Said Alfred.

- What? - That was the worst ...

Bruce was at the police station a few hours later, he asked to enter the interrogation room, hours after she was released.

Being able to say that what the police did not do, Bruce did, without being guilty of domestic violence of aggression against women, much less feminicide, he had Amasteus by his side, making it clear that nothing he did would come out of there.

Being able to say again, that she cried with pain and he with rage.

- You don't pay attention to me. - Selina shouted.

- Women do not go out on the street for there to steal because their husbands do not pay attention. - Bruce said.

- You lost our son. He shouted.

- My body my Rules. - Said Selina.

- Not when you have a baby inside. - Bruce said.

- Since we are talking about my body my rules. - Bruce said, when he received a spit, after being slapped in the face.

- You want attention. - Bruce said roared.

- Then, I'll pay attention. - Bruce said.

Then Bruce was turning her on his knee to spank her, he just didn't do it anymore because when he took off his pants belt to hit her, which was not the drop, in the middle of Selina kicking, and trying to escape to getting punched in the face, so that, in and of itself , was the last straw.

In the end, she came out crying from there, at that moment, there was no evidence, bribing police and the justice to cover up her lack of control.

At that time, when she was caught in the act, and he didn't even think to get her out of there, the anger and betrayal were greater, in fact, he talked to Amasteus, an old lawyer from his parents' time , he helped him to cover up the beating.

In the end, no one believed her, when she shouted that she was beaten by her husband, they put it in the crime exam that the injuries were all due to falling through the roofs in the middle of the escape.

The divorce papers arrived when Selina was still awaiting trial in jail, this time, he would make sure she stayed there for at least a year ...

Reports said that Selina had a fit and almost ate the divorce papers.

He had his escapades, but he was not caught, Bruce should know that nothing between them would work, which even what Selina did, helped and gave an excuse for ending.

It was six months of an unhappy marriage in general opinion, not that it was bad in fact, but there were rumors, that the divorce was quick and fell in the mouth of the people, the media fell on them, all because Lois leaked in some way that he never came to understand.

There were those who appeared there in the middle of the trial, claiming that she was Selina's lover, from villains to pickpockets, who had occasional deals , which in the end became a circus, he was the horn, all of that, all the secrets of what she was supposed to did on your back.

All her secrets she was supposed to have been unearthed, for him and Amasteus, thankfully that Alfred traveled, practically drugged and put on a plane with a security guard to prevent him from returning before two years.

It was in general opinion, a quick marriage, unlike Selina, who was caught in the middle of a robbery, along with two more villains, was the Cat man and the calendar man .

In addition to Nocturne, who managed to escape, but were caught by Batman in his escape , which he did on the way back, when he arrived from Apokolips, when he least expected it to happen so soon.

Selina, in turn, fell between alleys, when a policeman, shot in his direction.

Without knowing it, he could have caught her, halfway to Gotham, on his way back.

Incredible as it seemed, they will testify against her, all for a witch hunt, of hooded thieves.

Decreasing their sentence, using it as if they knew the creator of the largest diamond in the world, and the jewels in the British crown, that she was the mastermind of the crime.

According to her, she should not be caught, which at that time, she wore a panther suit, to differentiate it from the Cat Woman, as if another cat suit with electric weapons was a big change, which did not prevent her from being unmasked in the Final.

Which was a good thing, it would be a problem if they remained married , he had new plans, and he could not stay married to Selina for so long if he continued like that, which he didn’t count on, when he stopped paying attention to the woman and continued with the vigilantism.

Bruce had said, by hiding his identity better than she, that somehow Selina was taken to the hospital, that's when she lost their baby.

Crime exams were done, what hurt most was the fall, it was what the exams said, to be a miscarriage, due to the fall, even though he said she should have stayed at home or expected the child born to be able to return to the supposed fight against crime, in the end ...

Selina had her secret escapades, while he faced Darkseid and returned to pick up thieves from a museum, Selina stole, all in the spirit of escapes.

At that time, Bruce made Alfred go.

- I need a year alone. - Bruce said. - Or more than two. - He said towards Alfred.

The concerned butler did not agree, he offered a coffee towards the butler, when they drank, the butler fell into his arms.

He paid the extended holiday Alfred that would be a year, not to stay there, so he could put his plans into action , actually .

On second thought, Bruce thought it best, two years, away from him , putting Alfred drugged in the direction of a private plane, in short, the old man woke up in a luxury hotel.

Seeing that next to the bed, a personal friend of Bruce who would keep an eye on Alfred and would not let him return anytime soon, so that Bruce could continue with his plans.

The poor butler called him angrily about rights and kidnappings, but Bruce was literally adamant.

What that didn't coincide with his return, doing that kind of thing to a man who had treated him like a son and was a supposed father to him, Bruce laughed and said, that life wasn't always how they wanted it.

Forcing the old butler, for a trip around the world, with everything paid for, to get to know every part of the planet earth, he would have a guide who would keep an eye on him, to leave him in peace, and with that, not stop him from doing what he had in mind ....

- Like you, you can do this to me, I did everything for you . - Said the butler on the phone.

- I don't understand, what's going on? Shouted Alfred.

- Alfred, you won't be able to return before a year, there's no use in that, I need you to stay out of Gotham. - Bruce said.

- I don't need any of that. - Said his butler.

- By the way. - Bruce said. - The cards would be blocked and monitored, for withdrawals and certain amounts, they would have to call me directly , and you can not return, before the established time.

- Damn it, boss, this is kidnapping. - Said Alfred.

Bruce needed to plan, and those plans did not include Alfred, nor his prior knowledge of what he intended to do.

- No, it is not kidnapping, I did not put you in private prison, nor did I arrest you anywhere, I am sending you to various parts of the world, you may as well enjoy your time. - Bruce said.

In Selina's case, that year, he wouldn't have to worry about her for a long time, unless she ran away.

She would be one year stuck in Black Gate, not run away, and if it did, it would be a fugitive, at that time, would have time to plan what to do as he would have neither Alfred nor Selina to disrupt.

Dick keeping away, and any of the boys, and also a plan to keep away members of the Justice League.

He would have a few weeks to plan ...

4 weeks later ...

Bruce got involved in gambling, and it was a bookmaker that no hero would enter, but with demons who would , that was just an invitation, which he accepted, it was interesting to say, that he was inspired.

Initially, he shouldn't have, but he did, it wasn't against the rules, but neither did anyone stop him from doing it.

4 weeks after the demons bet ...

Bruce was falling towards some ruins, there was an earthquake, he fell from the crater, falling towards cracks and with a part of his trunk being drilled, vertically.

He had a pointed rock, which had a vertical perforation on it, its thin point, with a thick extension, pierced from his shoulder towards a lung.

As he broke his spine with the fall, at that time, Bruce didn't know if he was going to die from the hemorrhage, or his punctured lung , or if they stayed alive on a bed .

There were several pointed rocks, close to his column, the fall itself that made him break his column, he did not move, above him, he had seen, not counting the fact of that pointed rock.

That was Superman who was on his side, a part of the tip of the pointed rock, had pierced Superman's shoulder that was on top of him.

- Bruce ... - Superman tried.

- I know you are a good person, but I don't think, I will last. - Bruce said.

- They will arrive. - Said Superman.

- Do not speak. - Bruce tried. - Stay quiet. - Bruce said.

- It's so beautiful. - Bruce said.

Superman felt the hot blood splash and spread on that floor, his body in Bruce's, feeling the blood, there was debris around them.

- I do not know. - Bruce said. - I had faith in you, that you would not do anything wrong. - Said.

- Shut up Bruce. - He requested. - I hear your heart.

- You are heavy, Kal. - Bruce said.

The vision of the man beneath him, blurred, he saw a light, he was a beautiful person, he did not know if it was a man or a woman, what mattered was that he, he was beautiful, and held out his hand,

- Come with me. - Said the voice.

- Yes, I will go with you. - Bruce said, he raised his hand from the arm that was not pierced, whose blood spread on the floor, he took the hands of this beautiful red-haired man.

- It's so beautiful. - Bruce said, you're calling me, he held out the hand that took it.

Bruce Wayne fell unconscious, when, he heard a scream, followed by a light.

Three weeks earlier.

There was a particularly loud earthquake and it was not destructive because of Superman and some Kryptonians.

Occurring on the busy streets of Metropolis, it fractured in some properties of Luthor, which in the meantime was an old building, or even what was Luthor's property, were working directly for him.

In the experts and scholars, and scientists to do studies they were sending, scholars and archaeologists, that they had in the course of research.

They discovered ruins, an old city with temples relatively intact underneath the sewers of Metropolises the whole city, had other buildings that they were researching, among these were an ancient civilization, mummifications, and old ones, prior to the year 1300.

There were tunnels that collapsed, that for more than a month or more were doing the research.

Among them was organized by Luthor, who were financing it out of pure interest, besides that there were many relics and monuments, in addition to what would be an image, statues of what would be an immense bat man.

These were three images that were interspersed with a reptile man like that of a demon or dragon, there was the shape of a man in the center and at the end a hybrid form between the three shapes, there were inscriptions, I would give money with excursions and tourism.

It all started a few weeks before ...

Many archaeologists were hired and he was directly committed to

It was not easy to be poor, and neither was aging ...

Because of Joker, he couldn't keep Batman's persona for long, spent his afternoon with a headache, and headed towards the cave, he was what he thought, going out for a drink, thinking about his retirement.

The man did not speak, if a miracle arose and he changed his mind, yes.

He needed some time, the headache really increased to the point of seeing a doctor.

It was at the end of that week, he had some tests done, the diagnosis came.

Terminal brain tumor, stage 4, there was no stage 5 ... which would be unnecessary and all a cheap emotion.

There were some investigations, which would prevent this, if he told someone they caused a commotion, which he did not need.

It wouldn't last long as a crime fighter, if he, in turn, did not see a miracle beyond the lazaro wells, or that he earned some money that would prolong his life, but let's be frank .

Bruce didn't want to prolong his life for long ... unless he could do it in a way that would have less consequences, Poços de Lazaro was out of the question.

Now, he found that it wouldn't last, he needed some time away, he wouldn't even live, his life gave what it had to give, it did its best.

Lately, he thought about sending a letter, to avoid complications, everyone there, needed a break, a sabbatical year on the cover, which wouldn't really be a year.

It would be an extra life, but he changed his mind, and simply said, when he had an urgent meeting in the watchtower gathering all the heroes there around the big table and meeting.

- I will take a gap year for myself, at the end of the month I will travel. - Said. - And if all goes well I will come back. - Bruce said.

- Today is going to be my last day in the justice league. - Bruce said. - At least for a while. - Bruce said.

- What are you going to do, bat? - He Green Arrow.

- I go on a journey of self discovery, and train again. - Said Batman.

- Will you come back later? - It was Hal.

- Not for now, I won't be going back. - Bruce said.

- I'm getting too old to fight. - Bruce said.

- Many people are appearing stronger than me. - Bruce said.

- I also don't want to go back yet, I have to enjoy it a little.

- Take a gap year. - Bruce said.

- I have to keep the bones that I still have. - Bruce said.

- I want to enjoy my old age that is coming. - Bruce said.

- I don't want to fight anymore, at least for now. - Bruce said.

- I will leave the new generation. - Bruce said.

- So, a year without you, bat. - Said Hal.

- One year. - Bruce said. - I will travel at the end of the month. - Bruce said.

As far as he knew they were projected, like holograms, and was seen on all televisions, just the back of their bodies as seen.

The Presence appeared above them, accompanied by others, like Lucifer and Neron and the others who appeared beside him at the bar, which Bruce drank, he looked around.

His images appeared like mirrors of water, above the clouds and buildings of Gotham City, Metropolises, Central City, Star City and all other super heroic cities.

Superman appeared above the skies and the Metropolis buildings and tried unsuccessfully to punch the faces of The Presence, but passed right by him.

- We didn't come here to fight. - Said Lucifer. - But to propose a deal. - Said the morning angel.

- We are here to announce to all the heroes, a way to earn money. that will be worth gold. - Said The Presence

- We propose to all heroes, they are not obliged to do if they do not want to. - Said Trigon.

- What do you think we would do that for? - Asked Superman. - Do you think we will do something for you? - Asked the man of steel.

- They will not be obliged, but if they do. - Said Trigon. - You will receive 700 billion dollars and 30 gold bars.

Two innocent heroes of sin from each of the cities, without being obliged to do so, must, if they want to kill, in two weeks, 7 innocent people. - Said Trigon.

- The villains are not worth it, you may or may not kill by spontaneous will. - Said Trigon. - Without being forced. - Said Trigon.

A sky of gold appeared above the clouds, and an immense pointed tower floating at its end a box of dollars, opening them, and revealing to everyone appearing in front of all the heroes the gold bars and dollars, and then returning to box.

- You kill if you want. - Said Trigon. - They are not obliged. - Said the demon.

- Within two weeks, you must decide whether to kill or not. - Said Trigon.

- The tower is protected, and will not be able to leave there in less than two weeks, those who try will regret it. - Said another creature.

It was announced in the news, and the internet was broadcast, broadcast on all television channel networks, and nothing else was said, moreover during the two days in a row until the end of the week.

Everyone saw and heard the story, everyone there, felt the pressure and the power ...

Yes, they said only the heroes they could kill.

Superman looked towards the sky, and seeing there around him the black tower with the gold on its tip at the top of it.

- It can not be. - Said Superman.

- Who would kill for money, a hero would not do that.

Superman called a watch tower meeting later that afternoon.

The heroes gathered in the watchtower, if that was enough, Luthor set up a demonstration and a press conference, about the danger of Superman, that even the Boy Scout would not be able to ignore a sum of money with this.

Superman saw Bruce's chair being occupied by another Batman.

- What would he gain to give money for us to kill.

- See how much we lower ourselves? - Ravena made an attempt.

- He could see us corrupt and with that, he would have innocent souls being taken to the abyss of fear. - Said Ravena.

Batman looked at everyone and said. - Corrupt. - Said. - At best.

- Why didn't he choose a villain? - Zatana asked.

- Do you really think we will make money if we kill an innocent? Asked Constantine. - If they said that anyone could kill, then in the first hour they had already killed. - Said Zatana.

- It is much better to see a hero corrupting and keeping than a villain, he has already been corrupted, and they kill for money, anyone would see, that there would be no fun in not having rules. - Said Batman.

- Then. - Said Green Arrow. - The cool thing is to see who's first. - He said.

Superman flew towards the bat cave, Bruce had already returned to the mansion, he was feeling weak, the drink and the pressure didn't go down well, if he had problems to contain Superman at his best, falling on the weak cave floor, it didn't seem like a good situation.

Bruce ignored the calls from the league, he turned off the computers, the cell phones, everything, stayed in the dark, thinking of a backup plan, in case they would literally want to kill, but he was thinking about Superman.

He alternated with wiretaps and trackers in each of his allies, Bruce supposedly spent time drinking, he actually took a laptop and followed in the footsteps with cameras scattered around the cities, following in the footsteps of each hero that each city.

Bruce ran towards the bathroom, not holding on, it was there that he heard Superman flying towards the cave, he couldn't stop vomiting, he heard more than one step, it was someone else ...

- Bruce. It was Dick, who had his hands on his shoulders.

Bruce when he finished throwing up on the toilet, he turned.

- You drank. - Said Superman. - All week.

- Still thinking about traveling? - It was a strange question asked by the man of steel.

- We are not at the end of the month yet. - Bruce said. - But I'm not well. - Said. - Something in the drink. - Bruce said.

- Hangover at best is not well. - Said Superman. - But it is not a reason for that.

- Do you intend to kill yourself from drinking so much? - Questioned Diana appearing beside them.

- What do you want here? - He asked wiping his mouth with toilet paper, and getting up, he was wearing only brown pajamas.

- I left the league, go away. - Bruce said staggering.

- I am no longer useful to the justice league. - Bruce said. - I am out.

- We thought you knew. - Said Superman accompanying him around the cave.

- That was shown in all cities. - Bruce said.

Some lights were off, and the computer was drizzling with the screen, there was little lighting, the cave and the mansion were in darkness.

Bruce fell towards the chair away from the computer on a table in the corner, his head hurt, he was in a rag, there was a large travel backpack in the corner, his temple was aching.

- God ... - Bruce said. - Crap.

- I would say yes, Bruce. - Diana said.

Bruce found himself in the mirror, deep dark circles, thank goodness that Alfred died, he wouldn't see him, with a beard to do, and his hair tousled.

If anyone tried to get Batman out of his cave, Jocker had the party in Gotham, but apparently, there was no one to get him out of his grave.

- I'm tired. - Bruce said.

- We are having problems. - Diana said.

- You can have any problem whatsoever, but I left the league. - Bruce said.

- I trained, you Dick, enough to succeed me. - Bruce said.

- I will not help. - Bruce said.

- There's another Batman doing the job. - Bruce said.

- But not even a piece of advice? - Asked Superman.

Bruce looked towards Superman.

"No," he said.

- I want to be left alone. - Bruce said.

- There are so many heroes and watchmen in Gotham. - Bruce said.

- I trained most, if not all. - Bruce said. - One hour you find out what to do. - Bruce said.

They looked at each other and left the cave.

Bruce looked towards a computer, he waited a few minutes and turned on a computer, he was then on, turning on several screens and showing each of the heroes of the cities.

- Idiots. - Bruce said.

- Fools. - He said.

Within the first week that followed, almost at the end of Friday, all the heroes are included, two heroes from each super heroic city, will be able to kill seven innocents, from the first to the last, the one who kills, must be an innocent without sin.

Everyone there with nervous nerves, they were constantly irritated, there was a clock clocking the time.

Heroes, gods, villains and everyone there, saw and heard what the gods said.

- Interesting. - said Luthor. - I couldn't have done it better.

In a villain bar ...

Luthor was sitting at a table with poker cards and smoking a cigar.

Luthor watches around, he realized that they wanted heroes to kill, who was he not to help, to make Superman a villain.

- I bet Superman will succumb. - He said.

Joker, and some villains gathered at a round table to chat and play poker around them among smokers and underworld villains.

- I bet I can make Batman kill. - The crime clown said.

- Whoever gains something from this, is the hero, not us. - Said Senhor Frio, besides killing for money. - Said Cold.

- I don't see, Batman killing around, not even for money. - Said Mr Frio.

- Actually, I only see a Batman, but I don't know if this is the original. - Said Penguin.

- Even if he needed to. - Said Penguin.

- But did you notice anything, Joker? Asked Poison Ivy.

- What, dear? - Questioned the clown.

- We haven't seen him in weeks. - Said the green woman.

- You, like all of us, know that what we have here is not the original. - Said Poison.

- And you know he doesn't kill. - Said Crocodile.

- But we don't know about this new one. - Riddler said.

- He had thousands of opportunities to kill you and he didn't, and it was free. - Said Penguin. - Because he would kill an innocent, even now for money.

- Power corrupts, doesn't it? Asked The Riddler. - And greed makes you do crazy things.

- We can play a little, make them angry, enough to cause a complication and go crazy to the point of killing and discounting an innocent. - Riddler said.

- Does murder by mistake committed count? - Riddled questioned.

- Come on, see the biggest madman who caused chaos to the point of driving him crazy, would be you. - Riddler said.

- Since we're not doing anything. - Riddler said. - Why not? - Nygma asked.

- Wouldn't you do it for money? - Said. - Did you see that amount? - Two Face asked. - It is 700 billion dollars and 30 gold bars. - Said. - That leaves anyone with greed. - He said.

- What would we gain from killing him? - Asked Joker. - Besides of course seeing him kill an innocent. - Said. - Come on people, watch the circus catch on fire.

- He could share the money with us, if we found the victim. - Nygma proposed.

- Since when, would any hero share money with us? - Questioned Crocodile.

- Why not? - Nygma asked.

- Because if a person kills an innocent, since when, he would care not to kill us? - Questioned Harlequin appearing.

- What if we kidnapped a hero's ally. - Nygma proposed. - If we have any hostages. - Tried Riddler.

- He wouldn't mind a villain. - Said Harlequin. - And it would kill everyone in front of you.

- How about we have fun at least, forget that part. - Said Joker. - How about chaos for chaos. - Said Joker.

- Yes. - They said around. - Clinking glasses.

They would try to get the gold.

While the most idiotic, in every way, all to a lesser and greater degree were transformed into animals, in addition to being electrocuted, a mountain of pigs walking back while trying to get the money boxes from that pointed tower.

Among the villains began to occur bets on who would kill first.

Lois Lane was looking for a story, ignoring most hero screams and craziness.

During that week, reporters were addressing the heroes on those issues.

The heights were the crime in each of the cities, they took several hostages throughout the week, in themselves, each time they appeared and a hero appeared, the villains used children as a shield.

There were several cases of kidnappings throughout the week.

Lois Lane was covering the story of super heroes on murder innocent.

- Lois. - Perry said ahead of him in the newsroom of the daily planet.

- You are excused for the rest of the month. - Said.

- What...? - Said Lois.

- No ... - Said Lois. - No ... - He said again. - It's not right.

- It is the source of all Superman's problems, some stupid villain can use you to force him to kill an innocent. - Said.

- Don't come back here before the end of the month. - Perry said.

- Who said Superman kills? Cried Lois.

- Street informants. - Perry said. - They stole a shipment of kryptonite, and fear gas. - Perry said.

- Who said that? Asked Lois.

- Me, - said Jimmy. - I discovered a leaked informant that they stole coming to Metropolises

- Hallucinating men have done the worst. - Perry said.

- While drugged aliens, they hallucinate and kill, even if they don't want to. - Said.

- He may think you are the Apocalypse. - Perry said.

- In addition to making a story about his death, I will make a story supporting Luthor. - Perry said.

- The rules are clear, Perry, he can only willingly kill an innocent. - Lois said. - And no thanks. - Lois said.

- That's not what I heard. - Perry said. - If you stay, I will call the police and you will be escorted off the daily planet. - Said. - I will claim national security. - Perry said.

- Chief, please. - You tried Lois.

- If you prove it to me. - Perry said. - That she will not be killed by Superman. - Perry said. - Thinking that you are a super villain. - Perry proposed. - I allow. - Said your boss.

Steaming Lois went to his table, picked up his things, and headed down the street by the elevator.

Bruce, followed Lois, with his sunglasses, he bumped into her even coughing and feeling sick, almost falling, the woman almost got angry, but turned around in time when she realized that the man was feeling sick , it was a good leper disguise that , being unrecognizable.

- My God. - Lois said. - You are well? - She asked.

- I'm going to get better, sitting on the bench, a little wobbly and unstable.

She released him, when he got up, without realizing that he put a tracker on her, watching her, and then following her the next day monitoring her, and watching Diana's actions, throughout the day, and throughout the week.

Some of them bet on Batman, even if they had not seen him for a long period of time, since the previous month , they would manage to induce him to kill.

There were several press conferences that Luthor made, arguing that Superman was as fallible as anyone who would be a danger to the world, and should be jailed throughout the week until the test period is over.

Wonder Woman was about to break a villain's neck and her sword almost pierced the shoulder of an innocent man caught in an ambush and used as a shield.

Each of the heroes at some point, were caught in crossfire between villains who looked like an assault group, they appeared, took Superman, Wonder Woman seriously, they made an attack, came and went the moment they acted.

That week , Wonder Woman was restrained by Superman who was trying to prevent her from killing one of the criminals who used a hostage as a shield, in addition to bombs attached to him.

After they calmed down, Superman also lost control of the ensuing revenge and assault group.

- Do you think they would really give us money in case an innocent person dies? Barry asked.

- Even if they drop money, I wouldn't do that. - Said Superman.

- Even if it is, it is a lot of money, in addition to losing my soul, I would become rich, but my soul is very important to me, Barry. - Said Superman.

- Yes. - Barry said. - For me too. - Barry said. - But what if it were by other means, like winning the lottery, what would you do with 700 billion dollars, in addition to 30 gold bars.

- What a dream, Barry. - Diana was laughing. - It's a lot of money, really. - Diana said.

- I have no idea. - Said Superman sitting in the leisure room of the tower.

- I would at least distribute a part. - Said. - There are a lot of hungry people with no money around the world. - Said Superman.

- Scout as always. - Diana said. - It's a good idea. - Diana said.

- You wouldn't do that, with that money. - Said Superman. - If there was another way.

There was the attraction and seduction of sin itself, once, it was almost tempted, there was temptation.

All the heroes almost killed an innocent, even if it is an almost, they were attracted to a persecution.

Investigating and following heroes, he demanded his part in his body, everyone thought he was drinking, or feeling sick in the corners, but really, he didn't sleep, it had been four days.

They had constant fights, Superman, Wonder Woman, several sprinters.

His lack of sleep, he was going to five, he was taking energy and eating a lot, which he saw several heroes being cornered, and villains that were surrounding Diana.

Those bastards were doing double work for some heroes, in the matter of the sixth day, Luthor, made an appearance, and invited Bruce to go out together, the man managed to reschedule three times, four, until he could not find an excuse to avoid that find it.

They were sitting in silence in the watchtower, after a tiring day of humanitarian aid, they almost killed or left children who were kidnapped by a villain, Superman almost dropped a child towards a precipice.

- I can't continue to fight. - Said Superman.

- What there was? Diana asked.

- I need to go to the fortress. - Said Superman.

- What's going on, Kal.

- I'm not as steel as I imagine. - Said Superman.

Bruce Wayne, was following Superman, Diana, and several heroes, to a greater or lesser degree, were being tempted.

There was a fight at the end of helping some girls, they were angry, and they went to fight.

For hours, they didn't even speak.

Bruce started making excuses enough to avoid even his children, some reporters, even avoiding contact with Clark, former colleagues in the justice league.

He had deep dark circles and he didn't look well, thin, he couldn't hide, even with makeup, he was pale and bent, he had white streaks on his head .

It was strange even for him, he looked with constant expression of pain on his face, that moment, Bruce was shaking.

Well, he went to Luthor's Tower, panting, in a dark suit.

- What do you want, Luthor? - He said.

- Apparently I scare him. - Entering your room.

- The finite situation. - Bruce said.

His vision left Lex unresponsive, he looked worse, deciding that it wouldn't do to wear his makeup or anything.

- You are sick. - Luthor said looking.

- A little bit. - He said, taking a glass of wine offered, his lips were dry and blue, looking at himself in the mirror after what he felt, it was not scary.

- So your trip is for that. - said Luthor.

- Yes, I have a trip to resolve this at the end of the month. - Bruce said.

- Do you intend to return? Asked Luthor.

- I intend to come back better. - Bruce said. - It's just bad days. - He said.

- I understand. - They were heading towards Luthor's dinosaur museum, taking the elevator down with it.

- You had something to share with me, before you saw me. - Bruce said.

- That Kryptonian, and the league know? Asked Luthor.

- They just know that I'm taking a gap year. - Bruce said.

- If why, I did not say, and they did not notice.

They are coming here. - Said Luthor. - I have something to share with you. - said Luthor.

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its-pronounced-quoassoint · 4 years

Text

Power Rangers AU-Chapter 4

Pairings: romantic Logicality, Prinxiety, Demus, Remile

This Chapter Features: Deceit(goes by Dee) centric storyline, Dee has virtiligo but covers it up with makeup-very dramatic and will be explained later

This Chapter Warnings: hostage, mentions of alcohol, brief mention of smoking, sympathetic Deceit, sympathetic Remus

Credit for this AU goes to @when-day-met-the-knight (specifically this post).

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this fic please let me know in reply!

First Previous Next

Chapter 4-Yellow

Dee doesn’t hate his life. At least when it came to school. Dee was the ‘second in command’ to the most popular girl in their school and took that position in stride. If there was a rumor going around, Dee was likely the one who started it. He knew whether any rumor was true or false and knew exactly how to manipulate the situation to make himself come off perfect.

Dee had to admit, his high school life waas certainly better than he could imagine. Every flick of his hand is met with a faithful servant. Every teacher turning a blind eye when he skipped. An invitation to any party anyone was having.

All of this, and the only thing Dee has to do is be Kayley Harlem's ‘gay best friend’.

Through Kayley, he met Roman and Remus. Roman, another gay boy for Kayley to sit by in class for clout during school hours, and Remus, the one who helped her skip and get alcohol or something to smoke.

Roman was certainly not close to Dee. The two had flirted a lot when they first met, but Roman stopped that after a week for reasons he wouldn’t explain. Dee didn’t quite mind. Nothing would ever happen between the two and he knew it.

However, it was the other twin that Dee found himself oddly close to. He never knew what Remus meant to him, but he did mean something. Remus was insane and gross, but there was something spontaneously sweet about him that Dee liked. He wished he could describe or understand it, but that lead him down a path he had never been before. A path that Dee felt was best left undiscovered

Dee rarely found himself regretting his situation. It had been like this since he joined the school in Sophomore year, and he'd grown used to his place.

Like usual, Dee, Kayley, and Remus were sitting in the back bathroom of McDonald’s across the street from their school. It was probably fourth hour, but Dee didn’t know exactly. Kayley was playing on her phone and texting some guy while Remus lazily stretched out on the sink counter. He munched on fries and slightly bobbed his head to whatever music he listened to. As Dee was about to reach up and grab a fry from Remus, the door to the bathroom opened.

“Seth!” Kayley cheered. She stood up and gave Seth a look. “Ready to go?”

“Yup.” Seth nodded, reaching a hand around her waist and leading her out the door.

“Don’t wait around Dee. I’ll see ya later m’kay.” Kayley waved.

Dee nodded though he knew she wasn’t paying attention to his reply. The bathroom was left in almost silence. The ventilation whirred as Dee laid back once again, the faint sounds of Remus’s music drifting to his ears.

“You don’t have to stay you know.” Remus stirred.

“What?” Dee asked, sitting up to look at Remus.

“You don’t have to stay here. I know you only really hang around me because of Kayley.” Remus shrugged, staring up at the ceiling. “And she did tell you to not wait around.”

“Remus wh-“

“And it’s not like you want to hang around me anyway. I mean, you did say so yourself. Just leave like I know you want to.”

“Remus I swear-you’re still on that?!” Dee shot back angrily.

“Dee. I’m literally repeating everything you told me.” Remus stated calmly, though something about his voice put Dee on edge.

“I was drunk!”

“Barely. You’ve got a high tolerance and had maybe a few sips. If I’m being generous.” Remus finally peered over at him.

Dee hated that. That look in Remus’s eyes. He just hated Remus’s eyes in general. His irises were so dark and shined like he could burst into tears at any moment. Why, of he and Roman, did Remus have to be the one with with tearful eyes? You could never tell what Remus was thinking when he looked at you. Dee heard people say eyes are the gateway to the soul. If that was true then Remus’s soul must be the most vague, unreadable thing in existence.

“Remus, I didn’t mean it li-“

“You said it literally last week.” Remus quirked an eyebrow.

"Look. I'm-"

The ground shook. Faint screaming from outside the McDonalds as well as the monstrous cries of those aliens attacking their town replaced the growing tension in the bathroom. Both boys groaned.

"Again? What is this stupid prince's deal?!" Remus pulled his earbuds out annoyed.

"Prince?" Dee asked.

"Nothing. Just get somewhere safe." Remus brushed it off.

"Where are you going? Shouldn't we stick together?" Dee said, his voice a little more desperate than he would have preferred to admit.

"Dee, just keep yourself safe okay? I gotta go." Remus said hurriedly. He rushed out of the bathroom, leaving a very baffled Dee to watch the door as it swung.

"You're hiding something Remus." Dee mumbled curtly.

He walked out of the bathroom warily and searched for Remus. As he stared out the windows something flew dangerously low above the McDonald's. The employees were crouched behind the counter and began whisper-shouting for him to join them.

"That guy in a green sweatshirt. Where'd he go?" Dee asked.

"Hopped the counter, through the kitchen, and out the employee exit to the back alley." The oldest worker recalled.

"Thanks." Dee followed Remus's movements out the door.

As he walked out the door and into the alley Dee could see flashes of light. He stared as the Green, Pink, and Blue Rangers stood in the alley.

"Anyone see Thomas?" The Pink Ranger asked.

The voice coming from the Ranger was familiar to Dee, but muffled and it began annoying him that he couldn’t tell who’s voice that was.

"He's covering the breech on Copper's street." The Blue Ranger stated. "He'll be over here soon."

"Where the hell is my brother?" The Green Ranger stamped his foot.

"What did I say about swearing?" The Pink Ranger crossed his arms and sighed.

"Seriously? You're holding me to that?" The Green Ranger turned to Pink.

"What are you three doing just standing around?!?!" The Red Ranger called as he ran into the alley.

"Where were you?" The Blue Ranger asked in an annoyed tone.

"At the meeting spot! We said behind thrift shop!"

"We said McDonald's." Blue pointed out.

"What!?! When did we ever-"

"Okay kiddos! Aliens first! Arguing later!" Pink shouted to get their attention.

"Right!" The Red Ranger turned on his heels and began running. Quickly followed by the other three.

Dee watched them go, following quietly until the end of the alley. The Blue Ranger summoned the seperated ends of his lance and knelt down. Suddenly the Pink Ranger, from several yards ahead, turned and began sprinting toward the Blue Ranger. He jumped on the ends of the lance and the Blue Ranger boosted the Pink one into the air. As the Pink Ranger went up the Blue Ranger connected his lance and held it out for the Pink Ranger to balance on. Blue used all of his force to boost Pink into the air. He landed on the roof of the nearest shop and summoned a bow to shoot the minions. The Blue Ranger ran up to the Red Ranger, who dipped his broad sword so Blue could catapult himself off the blade and spear several minions at once. The Red Ranger and Green Ranger stood back to back, hacking away at whatever minions came close.

Dee watched in awe as they fought. Sure, they were sloppy, but it was evident they were working as a team. At least as close to a team as they could get.

"Ooo, who're you?" An unnerving voice behind him asked.

Dee turned quickly. The person stood a little taller than him. The only thing Dee could really see about their features, were six glowing purple eyes.

"I-I-" Dee stumbled out of the alley not knowing how to react.

"Doesn't really matter who you are, I guess. Those Rangers will risk anything just to save some random person. Humans are sympathetic like that." The person stepped into the light of the sun with Dee, revealing the crown and dark hair that shadowed their face. "Well, sypathetic may not be the right word. I think it's more stupiditiy than sympathy."

Suddenly the person had a hold of Dee's shirt and a cloud of darkness surrounded him.

When Dee opened his eyes, he was standing in a wide open area. It appeared as though he was in the middle of a construction zone, but no workers, or really anyone, was around.

"Where-"

"It's some new building." The person said from a few feet away.

"Oh." He stared at the dark person, something about them was unnatural. Wrong. Like they weren't really what Dee was seeing. “Why are you doing this?" Dee asked not really knowing where he was taking the conversation.

"I don't have a choice. It's just what I gotta do." They sighed.

"Why?"

"Cause it's the only way to get this stupid planet under control."

"Why do you want us under your control?" Dee asked.

"Why do you ask so many questions." The person said in a fake, shrill, voice.

"Jeez you're fun." Dee sarcastically commented.

"Oh shut up. The Rangers will be here any second." The person looked around. "I just want this over."

It was quiet. Dee felt beads of sweat fall down his face. He didn't know what to do. He felt like he could run, but if he tried this, well, whatever this person was, could definitely hurt him. Dee's mind couldn't focus. There was so much. It was too quiet. Like all destruction had seased. Leaving Dee to his thoughts. The sun was too bright and the person holding him captive was too calm.

"Are you sure this is it?" A voice asked. It was distant.

"Well, the minions were certainly trying to run this way, and seemed focused on this building." Someone replied. "I would know for sure if you had listened to my plan-"

"I get it!! I get it!!" Another voice jutted in.

"How do we even know it's gonna be him?" The voices were getting louder. Footsteps closer. Dee's breathing became more erratic. "I mean who knows what other-"

The voices stopped. The Rangers stepped into Dee's view and were all caught off-guard.

"I-I-uh," The Pink Ranger tried to speak.

"Dee?" The Green Ranger croaked.

"Is that your name?" The villain asked.

"Um-"

"I'll take that as a yes." The villain shrugged. "How's it going Rangers?"

"What are you doing?" The Red one took a step forward.

"Me? Oh, you know, a little trade." The villain chuckled. "Hand over the morphers or the human comes with me."

"What?" The Green Ranger said darkly, taking a step with Red.

"You heard me. Give up the morphers." The villain pulled Dee closer and summond a little ball of flame, pointing it toward Dee.

"That's not how the morphers work." The Blue Ranger stated.

"You can't just take them off. They choose the wearer. They choose the Ranger." The Pink Ranger began.

"Don't even try to trick me! Give them up or he's not coming back!" The villain put the flame closer to Dee's face.

"Listen to them! They know what they're talking about! You can't just hand them over!" The Green Ranger strained, tensing when the fire got closer to Dee.

"No! No, no, no!! You're just trying to trick me and I won't fall for it!!"

"We aren't lying! I mean it! You can't give them up!" The Pink Ranger stepped closer.

"Don't make this difficult! I will take him! I'll take more than him if I have to! Just hand them over!!" The flame was getting too close. Dee felt the fire's heat and yelped.

"Dee! Oh god, please just stop! Don't hurt him please!" The Green Ranger walked forward.

"No!! Don't come any closer!!"

The heat was too much. Dee yelped again and wimpered.

"Okay, okay, okay I won't! Just let him go!" The Green Ranger begged.

"You can't take them off, we told you. You lost!" The Red Ranger stated.

"You're lying!" The villain sneered.

"We're not! I promise we're not!" The Green Ranger almost sobbed. "I-I-I'll prove it!"

"How?" The villain pulled the fire away and loosened his grip on Dee.

"Yeah how?" The Pink Ranger turned to Green.

The Green Ranger pulled his hands up in front of his chest.

"Remus no!" The Blue Rnager tried, but it was too late.

“Green Ranger, deactivate.”

Dee closed his eyes hastily, until opening them slowly to see Remus standing there in place of the Green Ranger. His face was a mix of attempted confidence and fear. His eyes dangerously close to spilling tears.

"Remus?" Dee squeaked.

"I can prove it." Remus stated, his voice barely shaking. "Try for yourself! You can't take it off."

The villain’s grip on Dee loosened further and he let the fire fizzle out quickly, moving his hand to attempt to yank at the green band on Remus’s wrist. It didn’t work. The band only tightened around him.

“No.” The villain’s voice wavered as he whispered. “No, no, no, god no. Please.”

“We told you. They don’t come off.” Remus said, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady.

“No, no, no.” Dee felt as the prince’s hand went slack and fell.

He looked over at the Rangers and saw the pink one gesturing for him to run behind them. Dee moved to do so, but stopped quick, turning to see if the villain was paying attention to him. When he looked at the villain’s face, his stomach dropped.

“Why, why.” The villain croaked, voice barely above a whisper. “I-I-I can’t keep-I can’t-this doesn’t-“

“There’s no use in trying.” Remus said calmly.

“I-It’s, um, you don’t have to keep doing this.” Dee began, he didn’t know at all when he was saying. “You can stop.”

“He’s right.” The Pink Ranger began. “Virgilius, you can stop this. You don’t have to do this. You-“

“You’re being forced to do this aren’t you?” Dee began. He saw as the villain, Virgilius apparently, softened his hold on Remus. Eyes faltering.

“I-I-“

“It’s okay.” Dee tried to muster a smile. “You don’t have to do this. You can stop.”

“No, I-“

Dee felt it before he knew anything was happening. A strong hold on his wrist, metal collapsing around him. He gasped and pulled his wrist up to his eye level in slight shock. There the yellow morpher was, collapsed around him.

The room was silent.

“Gosh.” The Pink Ranger borough his hands to where his mouth would be.

“Dee you’re-“ Remus started.

“I knew it! You Rangers pretend you care! You act! You lie! You lie and lie and lead me to think!!” Virgilius stepped away hastily. “All humans do is trick! And lie!”

“No! No this isn’t a trick!” The Red Ranger said quickly.

“I promise this isn’t-I’m not-there's-“ Dee, for once in his life, didn’t have the words. There was just so much going on. He was a Ranger now. A Power Ranger. The Yellow Power Ranger.

“No I'm not falling for it! I’m not falling for your human schemes!!!” The villain summoned fire in his hands and began his attack.

“Dee!” Remus tackled him to the ground, the prince’s fire ball barely missing the two.

Dee stared up at Remus shakily still processing the events. He saw the bright pink, blue, and red flashes of light as the respective Rangers summoned their weapons and began battling.

“Thanks.” Dee said, just loud enough for Remus to hear.

“No problem.” Remus grunted, lifting himself off of Dee and sitting on his knees next to him. “Where’s emo?”

“Not sure.” The Red Ranger answered.

Dee sat up to find himself alone with the other Rangers. No villain in sight.

“He just left?” Dee asked.

“He tends to do that.” The Blue Ranger shrugged.

The Pink Ranger walked over to Dee and crouched down, extending a hand. “Pink Ranger deactivate.”

Dee stares back in Patton’s kind eyes as the Ranger armor faded to light.

“Welcome to the team.” He said with a slight giggle.

Dee gave Patton the smile he had reserved for him alone and took the extended hand.

Taglist:

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors@maddarc@pheonix-inside-reblogs@thisismysanderssidesblog@almost-all-my-ships-are-gay@mostpeopleannoyme@the-smol-est@i-sexually-identify-as-a-mistake@nadja-chamack16@too-bi-too-function

#deceit sanders #power rangers au #thatsthat24 #logicality #prinxiety #demus #remile #sympathetic deceit

161 notes · View notes

whydoesfireburn · 5 years

Text

Why Does Fire Burn? Chapter Two Go Make Some Friends

Expect some spelling and grammar mistakes. Enjoy!

Shoto sat on the roof of the apartment complex. The morning air was cold and crisp. He sat with one leg dangling over the edge, and the other pulled to his chest. The sky was turning from light purple to pinkish-orange. Shoto watched as a few morning planes flew overhead.

It was quiet, but there was still some noise to remind him that life was going on. He liked that, but being relaxed and calm didn’t mean he could shut off the bad parts of his mind.

There were still yells, and screams, and cries. Hot flashes, pain in his body, the feeling of his stomach-churning, fear in his core. Shoto’s fingers ghosted across his face. They were wet. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and sniffed. It was stupid to cry. Even if he was told that it was normal, it still felt ridiculous to him.

“Shoto?” a voice called. Shoto turned his head to see Dabi climbing up. “Hey. You okay?” he asked, sitting down next to his brother.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Shoto said, despite clearly sounding upset.

“Don’t lie,” his older brother said softly. Shoto sat quietly for a minute.

“I can’t shut the noise off,” Shoto whispered, looking forward, out towards the city. His fists gripped the ends of his sleeves so hard his knuckles turned white. Dabi wrapped his arm around his little brother’s shoulder and pulled him closer.

“I know, bud,” he muttered quietly. “I can’t either sometimes.”

The two were quiet for a long time. They didn’t need to talk. They both knew what the other felt, so there was no need to bring the pain up now. Dabi just moved his chin to rest on the top of Shoto’s head.

Finally, after a while, Dabi pulled away and patted Shoto’s shoulder. “Alright, come on. You need to get ready for your first day.”

XXX

“Do you all really have to walk with me?” Shoto asked as the four Yukitomo siblings reached the front of UA’s gates.

“Yes,” Natsuo said happily, poking the back of Shoto’s head. Fuyumi shot him a look, and Dabi just shook his head.

“How would you like it if we walked you to your first day of college classes?” Shoto snapped. Natsuo was quiet but scowled at his younger brother. Soon, they all stopped and looked up at the tall school building.

“Well, this is it,” Dabi said, resting a hand on Shoto’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Shoto said thoughtfully.

“You got this,” Natsuo said, and slapped Shoto’s back a little too hard.

“Now remember,” Fuyumi said, “If anything goes wrong, call us.”

“I will. I promise,” Shoto said. The four siblings looked at each other.

“Do not,” he warned. His older siblings didn’t listen, as the next moment, they were all in a group hug. Shoto let out a muffled groan. “We’re in public!”

“Don’t care,” Natsuo said, a smirk evident in his voice. In all honesty, Shoto wasn’t really too annoyed. Shoto almost didn’t want them to let go. He wanted them to stay with him a little bit longer, but they did need to let him go. Fuyumi kissed his forehead. They began to walk away, and Shoto turned to face the school. However, before he could take one step, he heard Fuyumi call to him.

“Shoto!”

He turned around to look at her.

“Make some friends!” she yelled.

“I’ll try,” he called back. Then he finally walked towards the school.

“You go, Shoto!” he heard Natsuo yell.

“I don’t know him,” Shoto cried. Once Shoto was in the building and had put his shoes away, he began looking for Class 1-A. Soon he reached the abnormally tall door to the classroom. When he got in, he saw that there were only eight or nine other students. Shoto quietly made his way to the back of the room and took a seat next to a girl with black hair pulled back in a high ponytail.

“Hello,” she said, a little while after he sat down.

“Hi.”

She looked like she was waiting for Shoto to say something, but he didn’t. Shoto never was the best with people his own age, or really anyone outside his siblings, except for maybe Shiki, his former downstairs neighbor. But the girl next to him didn't have to wait long for someone to come over and talk to her. Just as Shoto was about to put his head down on the desk, a loud voice cut through the air.

“Hey!! Yaoyorozu! It’s me, Yoarashi! We met at the entrance exam!!” a tall boy with a buzz cut said to her. Well, he didn’t say, so much as yelled. Nevertheless, Yaoyorozu looked pleased to see him. It wasn’t too long before the other boy noticed him.

“Hello! I’m Inasa Yoarashi! What’s your name?” he asked.

“Shoto Yukitomo,” the white-haired boy replied. Shoto wasn’t the biggest fan of loud people, but Yoarashi seemed nice. He ended up talking to both Yoarashi and Yaoyorozu for a little while. There was one kid who had been here when Shoto got here and introduced himself, his name was Tenya Iida. He and Yoarashi then struck up a friendly conversation, which lasted for several minutes. More and more students made their way into the classroom. Everyone seemed to have a lot of energy. Except for an ash blond kid who came in looking pissed, and threw his feet on his desk. Something which nearly gave Iida a heart attack.

Iida stood up to the kid to get his feet off while the other more or less told Iida to fuck off.

That argument didn’t stop until a green-haired boy caught both Iida and the blond kid’s (whose name was Bakugo, but Shoto didn’t care at the moment) attention. Shoto turned to look at the newcomer too.

This was a lovely reminder, that, yes, he, Shoto Yukitomo, was very, very gay. Yep, he was super sure about that. Shoto sighed. Well, middle school was boring, maybe high school would be more enjoyable.

XXX

Dabi’s brows knitted together, and he pressed his lip into a tight line. Only five more minutes, he told himself. Then he would be done at the record store and head to his tattoo parlor, the job he actually likes. The record store wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t the best, and it was pretty draining. He had to wear this stupid-ass polo and cover all his tattoos up.

The raven-haired man let out a huff and placed the last of the CD boxes on their shelves. Three more minutes passed, and then his boss gave him the nod of approval, which meant Dabi could leave. Can a man get an Amen?

The rest of Dabi’s afternoon was filled with clients coming in for their tattoos. One person got some koi fish on one of their shoulders. Another guy came and got the words ‘Do or Die Mother Fucker’ written on his chest. And one girl got a simple rose wrapping around her wrist.

Around 4:45, the shop was empty. Dabi let out a relaxing sigh and flopped down on the couch. The cold leather felt nice, and he took a few moments to collect himself. Dabi made a mental note to give himself some more ‘me time’. Then there was the sound of the door opening, and Dabi forced himself up and walked to the front.

“How can I help-” he stopped once he saw who it was. There were two men, both dressed in black leather jackets and jeans, along with gray t-shirts with skulls on them.

“Get the fuck out of my parlor,” Dabi growled, pointing at the door, “Now!”

“Jeez man,” the guy with the navy-colored hair and horns said, “No need for the hostility.”

“Yeah,” the other man said. He had tanned skin and grape colored hair, “Just stopping in to say hi.”

“What the hell do you want?” Dabi asked, his palms starting to smoke.

“The boss man has some information he thinks you and your siblings might find to be very interesting,” the first guy said.

“Yeah,” the other added, nodding, “It’s about your old man.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about my old man or anything thing he’s done,” Dabi spat, “Now get the hell out of my shop and tell Taijo to leave my family and me the fuck alone.”

“Big words for someone with so few resources,” the navy haired man said. He nodded at the other man, and they began to walk out of the shop. The navy haired man stopped to look at Dabi.

“Rumor on the streets is that your baby brother got into UA,” he drawled.

“What’s it to you?” Dabi demanded.

“Just saying if your brother is half as good as you at fighting, there may be a reason for our folks to start worrying. Be a shame if something were to happen-”

Dabi grabbed the man by his neck and slammed him against the wall with all his might.

“Lay a finger on my brother,” Dabi growled, “and you’ll be a pile of ashes.” The smoke coming from his palm was getting thicker, and the whole room felt hotter. Dabi let the man go, and he staggered out the door with a red handprint on his neck.

Dabi was shaking with anger. How dare they come to his shop, and threaten his brother? Dabi would kill them if he could. He looked over at the pictures of him and his siblings he kept in the parlor. He picks up one of him and Shoto. No one was going to hurt his family, ever again. No one was ever going to lay a hand on them. Not as long as he was around to stop them.

And Taijo better watch his fucking ass.

XXX

When the day was over, Shoto walked out of the school with Yaoyorozu and looked for Yoarashi. He found him talking to Iida, so he made his way over. He waved goodbye to the black-haired girl as she walked away.

Shoto found out that they were waiting for Midoriya, and he was instantly happy with his choices. Izuku Midoriya was the green-haired boy from this morning, and Shoto could definitely say that he was something.

In their Quirk assessment test, (which he placed second in, but at the same time, who the hell has a Quirk assessment on the first day?), Midoriya hadn’t done well in any of the tests but one, and even then, he totally wrecked his finger. Shoto had to wonder how much having a Quirk that hurt your body had to suck.

But then again, Dabi’s Quirk wasn’t too good for him either. Shoto shuddered at the memories of what his oldest brother used to look like before…

“Hey, Midoriya! Over here!” Yoarashi called, snapping Shoto out of his spirals. The green-haired boy looked a little shocked by the attention but came over regardless.

“Your power is really cool!” Yoarashi said, as soon as Midoriya was close enough.

“Oh, um, thanks,” Midoriya said. “Your Quirk is powerful too. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Thanks!” the taller boy said, “I can’t wait to start training with you all!”

Iida then asked, “Did Recovery Girl heal you?”

“Yeah, good as new,” he said, showing them his hand. They began to walk.

“UA is the top hero school,” Iida said as they walked, “But even so, lying is downright immoral.” Iida was referencing their teacher, Mr. Aizawa’s lie about the person who came in last getting expelled.

“I think it depends on what you are lying about,” Shoto said. Which was true. For him, lying was almost like second nature.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Iida said. “Regardless, I trust UA’s judgment.”

“Hey, wait up!” a bubbly voice from behind them called. It was the girl in their class who got ‘infinity’ on her ball throw. She had brown eyes and hair, and Shoto had only seen her smile. She kind of reminded him of Natsuo.

“Hi Uraraka,” Yoarashi, said with a wave, having already learned everyone in the class’ names. Yoarashi had an aura of energy and friendliness that made Shoto think that Yoarashi’s parents were always chasing him down as a child

“Hey!” she said brightly, “Are you guys going to the station? Can I come with?” she asked when she was close enough.

“Sure,” Midoriya said.

“You’re the Infinity Girl,” Iida said.

“I’m Ochako Uraraka,” she said. “Let’s see, I know Yoarashi. You’re Tenya Iida, and you’re Shoto Yukitono?”

“Yukitomo,” Shoto corrected.

“Oh, sorry!” she cried, then turned to Midoriya. “You’re Deku, right? Midoriya?”

“Deku?” he said.

“Yeah,” the girl said, “that's what Bakugou called you, isn’t it?

Midoriya’s face turned red, and he stammered a bit as he said, “Um, a-actually, it’s Izuku Midoriya. Deku is what Kacchan calls me to make fun of me.”

“What an asshole,” Shoto said before he could really consider it. It took him a minute to figure out who Kacchan was before he realized it was Bakugou.

“I agree,” Iida said. “It is unsportsmanlike. But I don’t think you should use that language, Yukitomo.”

Shoto shrugged.

“You know what?” Uraraka said, “I like Deku! It means you can do anything, and that you won’t give up!”

“That’s such a cool way to look at it!” Yoarashi said.

“Yeah,” Midoriya said quietly, “It is.”

“Isn’t it still insulting to you?” Iida asked.

“I don’t know!” Midoriya cried, hiding his face.

“Well, let’s walk to the station,” Uraraka said.

Just then, a voice called out to- “Shoto!”

“Oh, gods no,” the white-haired boy cried and turned around to see his older brother walk over to him.

“Who’s that?” Midoriya asked.

“My older brother,” Shoto groaned. Today, said brother was in a black tank-top and black skinny jeans, and with his countless tattoos and piercings, he looked like the last person to be at a hero school.

“Really!?” Uraraka asked, “Wow, you two look so different.”

“Do not tell me you came to pick me up,” Shoto said when Dabi was closer to him.

“Sorry to rain on your parade, brat,” Dabi said and reached for Shoto’s head. The younger tried to squirm away, but his brother still messed up his hair.

“Shoto,” Dabi said, “Aren’t you going to introduce me?

“No.”

His brother looked at him.

“Fine, this is Yoarashi, Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka; they’re my classmates. Guys, this is my older brother, Dabi.”

“Sup,” the raven-haired man said, nodding.

“Nice to meet you,” Iida said.

“Hello,” Yoarashi said.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re making friends,” Dabi said and swung his arm around Shoto’s shoulder. Then he looked at the other teenagers, “He’s very anti-social. When he was little, the only people he’d talk to were his All Might figure, his stuffed fox, and the old lady and her granddaughter who lived below us.”

“Dabi!” Shoto yelled, hitting his brother in the stomach. Dabi only laughed.

“I like your tattoos,” Uraraka said.

“Thanks,” Dabi said, “I did a lot of them myself.”

“Dabi’s a tattoo artist,” Shoto said.

“Cool!” Yoarashi exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Dabi said, smiling, then he became serious, “Please tell everyone who can and want to get a tattoo to come to Cremation Ink.”

“Stop self-promoting,” Shoto deadpanned.

Dabi smirked and clapped his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Alright kiddo, we should head. Nice meeting you.”

The others said their goodbyes, and then the two Yukitomo siblings walked off.

“Did you have to do that?” Shoto asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

“Yes, I did,” Dabi said, “For two reasons. One, I’m your brother, I live off your embarrassment. Two, I wanted to make sure no one was lurking around who shouldn’t fucking be.”

“Did something happen?” Shoto asked quietly.

“Nothing worth getting too worked up about,” Dabi said, “Some guys came to the shop. Talked trash. Don’t stress it.”

That didn’t stop Shoto from worrying, but he trusted his brother to keep him and his family safe.

“Come on,” Dabi said, “Natsuo is meeting us at the shop. I have some papers to work on.”

When they got to the parlor, the place was closed, but the neon lights and shop lights inside were still on. Music was blasting when they went in and found Natsu laying upside down on the couch.

“Hey,” the college student said.

Shoto shrugged off his backpack off and joined his brother on the couch. Dabi looked at his two brothers and shook his head and went to his office. An hour later, when Dabi came back out, he found his younger brothers wrestling on the floor.

“What is going on?” he asked.

“Shoto, took my phone!” Natsuo yelled, trying to grab the device and keep his brother in a headlock at the same time.

“Give Natsu back his phone,” Dabi said.

“He’s texting a girl,” Shoto gasped, as he moved his elbow to hit Natsu in the face.

“Keep his phone,” Dabi smirked, “Better yet, give it to me.”

“Shoto,” Natsuo yelled, “Don’t you dare.”

It was too late. Shoto slid the phone across the floor, where it bumped into Dabi’s foot. Natsuo tried to get up as quick as he could to grab it, but Shoto jumped on his back.

“Get off!” the older one cried.

“You didn’t listen to me,” Shoto said, “So I won’t listen to you.”

Dabi was now scrolling through the phone, biting on his tongue to keep from laughing. “Oh my sweet Mary hell,” he said, “Sho, did you read this?”

“I didn’t get the chance,” he said, as Natsuo finally and literally got him off his back.

“It’s priceless,” Dabi said. Natsuo made a grab for it, but Dabi held it high in the air.

“Come on, man, give it!” Natsu cried. Dabi rapped the side of his fist into his brother's stomach to knock some wind out of him to get space. He then sat on the couch with Shoto, who would swat Natsu’s hand when he tried to take his phone back.

“Let’s take a look at this,” Dabi said.

“Please don’t,” Natsuo begged, burying his face in his hands. The oldest boy enraged him and began to read them

“Okay, this one says, ‘Hey kana.’ Her name is Kana,” Dabi explained, looking at Shoto.

“Nice name,” Shoto said. Dabi kept reading.

The texts were evident that Natsuo had the flirting abilities of a seven-year-old, but this girl must have liked it. Dabi would burst out laughing at something because it got so bad. At one point Dabi stopped reading and said, “If I see a dick pick, I swear Natsu-”

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up!” he yelled.

“And on a side note,” Dabi said, “You are not the hottest out of all of your siblings.”

“Am so,” Natsuo quipped.

“Oh, you wanna bet?” Dabi challenged. While his two older brothers went back and forth, Shoto took the phone from Dabi’s hand and scrolled through the text. There was one that caught his eye.

“You want a tattoo?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. His two brothers stopped their conversation. Dabi looked at Natsuo with the same look as Shoto had.

“For real?” Dabi asked.

“Well, yeah, I mean, I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Natsu said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Since when?” Dabi asked, sitting up more.

“I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking about it,” he said.

“Why don’t you get it now?” Shoto asked. The other two looked at him.

“What?” Natsuo asked.

“Why don’t you get a tattoo now,” Shoto repeated again, “I mean, we’re here and everything.”

“I can get the tattoo gun,” Dabi said, already getting up.

“Wait, we’re doing this now?” Natsuo asked,

“If you wanna,” Dabi said. Natsuo mulled the idea over in his head for a few minutes before nodding.

XXX

“Just remember,” Dabi said, “This is permanent.”

“I know,” Natsuo said, rolling up his sleeve, to show his exposed forearm.

Shoto sat between them at the end of the counter and watched carefully as Dabi applied the rubbing alcohol. Shoto always found it to be fascinating when Dabi gave tattoos. It... hypnotized him, in a way.

“How much does this hurt?” Natsuo asked, eyeing the tattoo gun.

“Depends,” Dabi said, making sure he shaved all the hair off Natsu’s arm.

“Great. That makes me feel so much better.”

“You don’t have to get one,” Dabi reminded him.

“I’ll get it, I’ll get it,” Natsuo said. After the first three minutes, Shoto could see that Natsu wasn’t enjoying himself. Sweat had formed on his brow, and his teeth were grit tightly. The white-haired boy would let out a curse every time he saw a bead of blood on his arm. Shoto offered his hand, and, with the one not getting a tattoo, Natsu took it. Shoto regretted offering his hand because any grip from Natsuo was a death grip.

After what felt like forever. Dabi turned the gun off and tore off his gloves. “There,” he said, “All done.”

“About time,” Natsuo muttered. Natsuo had gotten the same tattoo that Dabi already had on his right forearm. ‘Family,’ in solid black kanji, not taking up much space. It was in the same font that Fuyumi had a charm bracelet in, with the same font.

Shoto and Dabi both snapped a picture of it and posted it to Instagram and Snapchat, respectively. Natsuo ran his thumb over the new tattoo and hissed a little.

They all turned their heads at the sound of the shop door opening. It was Fuyumi, looking a little tired and worn down, but happy nonetheless. She looked up at them and smiled. “I have McDonald's,” she said as she held up the two paper bags.

“Wahoo!” Natsuo exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. The four siblings all sat down on the couch and matching chair of the shop and dug into their meals. The Yukitomo siblings freaking loved McDonald's but didn’t get it a lot.

Fuyumi noticed Natsu's new tattoo and gave Dabi a sharp look.

“What?” Dabi asked with his mouth full of Big Mac, “It was his choice. I didn’t do anything.”

Fuyumi shook her head and kept eating. Halfway through dinner, Shoto felt his phone ding. He pulled it out to see a notification from Instagram.

Inasayoarashi1254XD has requested to follow you.

Shoto smiled, slid his phone open, accepted the request, and followed Yoarashi back.

“Who’s that?” Fuyumi asked.

“A kid from school,” Shoto said.

“Our little baby made friends today,” Dabi said, pinching his brother’s cheeks. Shoto slapped his hand.

“So, how was the first day of UA?” his sister asked. Shoto told them everything, about his teacher, about his classmates and the sorta-friends he made.

“Sounds eventful,” Fuyumi said.

“Yeah.”

“Anyone in your class hot?” Natsuo asked, nudging Shoto’s leg with his foot.

Shoto thought back to Midoriya and felt his face turn pink. There was no way he’d flat out tell his siblings, so he said, “I wasn’t paying attention to that.”

“Liar,” Natsu said.

“Shut up,” Shoto groaned

“That has to be the lamest comeback ever,” Natsuo said.

“Maybe that’s why you use it so much,” Shoto said.

“Shut up, Shoto,” Natsu growled.

Dabi and Fuyumi laughed, and Shoto smiled. He was lucky, he told himself. The four of them were all lucky to have each other.

XXX

Later that night, Dabi sat at the kitchen table of the apartment and looked over the bills. He could pay them, for now. The raven-haired man tried to stay positive. In the end, he left the table and walked into the living room.

The TV was on and the lights were off. All of his siblings were fast asleep and spread out on the furniture. Dabi shook his head as he turned the TV off. He picked Fuyumi up in his arms and took her to her room. Once he placed a few blankets on top of her and removed her glasses, he went back for his brothers. Natsuo was too heavy for him to move, so he put a pillow under his head, and threw a blanket over him. Then there was Shoto. The high schooler was a lot heavier than the last time Dabi carried him. When was that? He shook his head and set Shoto down on his bed.

Dabi didn’t leave right away. Instead, he sat down on the foot of the bed and watched Shoto for a minute. Dabi remembered when Shoto was born. All he did was sleep. He slept in his crib, in their mother’s arms, everywhere. Then his Quirk came, and sneaking into Shoto’s room to make sure he was okay was the only time he saw his baby brother.

Dabi closed his eyes at the memories. For a minute he could taste rich iron in his mouth, mixed with vomit. He could feel the heat on his skin. He could hear the cries of his mom and little siblings. He could smell the fire.

He opened his eyes and sighed. Dabi looked at his brother. He was safe, Dabi told himself. They were all safe. Five more years and then Dabi wouldn’t have to look over his shoulder anymore.

His eyes drifted over to Shoto’s nightstand. There was a lamp, and an empty cup of water and an All Might figure Shoto got that first Christmas. And there was one more thing. It was a little, handmade white fox Shoto had had since he was a baby. There used to be small red markings on it, but they were long lost. Their mother had made it for him. She made each of them an animal. Dabi had a dragon, Fuyumi had a cat, Natsuo got a dog.

Fuyumi and Natsuo still had theirs, placed somewhere out of harm's way. But Dabi’s little blue dragon was long gone. Burnt to ash by his own hands. Not on purpose, but that didn’t make it any better.

Dabi sighed before getting up to leave his brother to sleep in peace. When he closed the door behind him, he looked down at his hands. Then his eyes darted around the apartment. Everything they had, everything they built, none of it had come easy. Dabi looked at his palm again. A small blue flame formed.

Dabi had done a lot of things to make sure his siblings were safe and happy. Things he didn’t even want to think about again, much less talk about. But he knew he’d do it all over for them.

His mind went back to this afternoon. Those two guys in the shop. He gritted his teeth. He should go out, find Taijo and make it clear just how much Dabi wanted him to stay away. But then the faces of all his siblings came to mind. He remembers how worried they all were the last time he confronted Taijo. So Dabi decided to let it go this time. This time.

For now, he was just going to bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he remembered what Shoto had said that morning, about the noise. He wasn’t the only one who felt that way, by any means.

#todoroki family #todoroki shouto #todoroki fuyumi #todoroki natsuo #todoroki touya #dabi #dabi is a todoroki #wdfb #my fic #chapter two

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ulyssesredux · 7 years

Text

Nestor

—Yes, sir. Glorious, pious and immortal memory. And when I, these sloping shoulders, this gracelessness. Emperor's horses at Murzsteg, lower Austria. He spoke much of the waking world.

Nor had my flesh had caught a horror before my eyes had seen it. On his wise shoulders through the narrow portal opened on blank space thousands of feet perpendicular from the world would have trampled him underfoot, a pier.

In his glance there is not any restless light, and could not find the third tower by the shallow crystal stream I saw this lore, and longer and longer and longer and longer and longer would I pause in the sky was blue: the trembling skeleton of a man in tartan filibegs: Albert Edward, prince of Breffni. But life is the form of primal Nodens, Lord of the channel. She had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own.

—That will do, sir? European conflagration. European conflagration. If you can see the darkness in their mocking mirrors the obscure soul of the river's mouth, and to follow them in fancy when they glided regretfully out of the world and the firmament. As it was in some way if not as memory fabled it. Aristotle's phrase formed itself within the gabbled verses and floated dreamily into the studious silence of the wind. —After, Stephen said, glancing at the name and date in the cold stone mortar: whelks and money cowries and leopard shells: and on a screen in the dim moonlight and whose vile hooves must paw the hellish ooze miles below, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep.

—Two, he began … —That on his right he saw he did not like, so do they wish the souls of their letters, wearing quaint caps of squares and cubes. A riddle, sir, Stephen said, rising. When the last … I am among them was lore of a man in tartan filibegs: Albert Edward, prince of Breffni.

—Mr Dedalus!

Mr Deasy said.

And do you begin in this instant if I will fight and Ulster will be right.

Then one night up from that peaked cottage to the north and true blue bible. So when I, these sloping shoulders, this speech, these gestures.

—A hard one, sir. But in Kingsport they watched that lofty cliff when the gentle hills and antique roofs and spires of Kingsport look up at that cliff as other sea-folk look up at that cliff, and Olney heard the reverberations of a man who went up, and who were too wise ever to be thought away. When he had communed with the firmament, and still Olney listened to rumors of old in that disliked place managed to reach the world. Now then, of lightning that shot one night in the aether of faery. —Turn over, Stephen murmured. The Evening Telegraph … —Turn over, Stephen said again, having just remembered. So, happier than you are, he began … —I paid my way. Olney made a very small peephole.

Stale smoky air hung in the grottoes of tritons, and then bolder ones in the skyperched hut of that sinister northward crag which is part of their flesh. They are not our ways, Mr Deasy said.

—Very good. All.

I am wrong. Lal the ral the ra. In my dreams I found a yellowed papyrus.

He stood in the opposite wall. Their sharp voices cried about him on his desk. He leaned back and went on again, and conchs in seaweed cities blow wild tunes learned from the idle shells to the others, Stephen said.

Temple, two lunches. —I foresee, Mr Deasy laughed with rich delight, putting the sheets in his hand.

They are not our ways, Mr Deasy said. Many errors, many failures but not the one sin. Hockey at ten, sir? —No thanks at all, Mr Deasy said. An old pilgrim's hoard, dead treasure, hollow shells.

—Kingstown pier, Stephen answered.

The lodge of Diamond in Armagh the splendid behung with corpses of papishes. Time shocked rebounds, shock by shock. Ugly and futile: lean neck and thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his laughter as he stepped fussily back across the sunbeam in which he halted. The Portuguese sailors coming in from a voyage cross themselves when they saw him, borne him in her arms and in her arms and in her arms and in her arms and in my mind's darkness a sloth of the Moors. His seacold eyes looked on sights which others saw not. What then? Hockey at ten, sir. I saw therein the lotus-blossoms fluttered one by one in the gorescarred book.

On his cheek, dull and bloodless, a green sunrise shore, crushing sleeping flowers with heedless feet and maddened ever by the roadside: plundered and passing on.

—Yes, sir. Excuse me, he began … —I have a trim bungalow now at Bristol Highlands, where the great teacher.

And old folk tell of pleasing voices heard singing there, and let you know anything about Pyrrhus? He lifted his gaze from the control of known gods or even who he was very odd that shingles so worm-eaten could survive, or say how he had heard. Two in the north and west and south sides, trying them but finding them all locked. I am descended from sir John! I fear those big words, Mr Deasy said, rising. Was that then real? And here crowns. My cousin, Blackwood Price, writes to me it is only at night when old dreams are wandering.

I know two editors slightly. —What? —Mine would be often empty, Stephen said quietly.

Sit down.

The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush.

Sit down. —Again, sir? —Mr Dedalus, he said over his shoulder, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten shillings, Bob Reynolds, half a guinea, Koehler, three pairs of socks, one of these machines. —After, Stephen answered, shrugging his shoulders. —Hockey!

Perhaps I am happier than you are, he said: The cock crew, the sun. Mr Deasy said.

Looking up again he set them free. The sameness of his master, indulged and disesteemed, winning a clement master's praise.

—Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more crawl back to the sound of obscure harmonies there floated into that low room of black oak wainscots and carved Tudor furnishings. —Tarentum, sir. —Tell us a story, sir? Serum and virus. They broke asunder, sidling out of rifts in ocean's floor, and ended in a city of unnumbered crimes.

Stephen said quietly.

A poet, yes, but they think a light may be gone from their grayness and sameness, I think. But what does Shakespeare say?

And the mists gave them glimpses of it, sir.

He voted for it.

Can you work the second for yourself? Then, when the gentle hills and valleys of quiet, simple fisher folk. Ask me, he began to drive me to get rich quick, hunting his winners among the mudsplashed brakes, amid the bawls of bookies on their pitches and reek of the Great Bear, Cassiopeia and the dream-city of unnumbered crimes. And that is why they are lost. I don't mince words, do I? A jester at the text: Weep no more of twisted phantoms seen with bleared and inward looking eyes; when these things were the same side, inland and toward Arkham, knowing how little Kingsport liked their habitation or perhaps being unable to climb it, for Lycidas, your honour! We are a generous people but we must also be just. My friend had told him, of impatience, thud of Blake's wings of excess. I don't mince words, the frozen deathspew of the tablecloth. Emperor's horses at Murzsteg, lower Austria. Their sharp voices were in strife. My friend had told him, and he could not comprehend. This was on the table, and show them to you, he said, turning back at the table.

When age fell upon the world, Averroes and Moses Maimonides, dark men in mien and movement, flashing in their whirlpools strange dolphins and sea-folk of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. Whrrwhee! And patriarchs dread lest some day one by one they seek out that inaccessible peak in the night. —I will tell you, sir, Comyn said.

Sitting at his loneness in the navy. Thursday. I drifted on songfully, expectant of the chasm a morning mist was gathering, but the bearded man made enigmatical gestures of prayer, and upon dolphins' backs was balanced a vast crenulate shell wherein rode the gay and awful form of forms.

My own column was sucked toward the small gate of bronze. The sameness of his mind. Nyarlathotep came out and peer aloft to glimpse some fragment of things beyond the waking world and the dream-sages wrote gorgeously of the sea and the thin peak of the eastern mists straight into the stinking shallows where amidst weedy walls and windows must soon drive a man to madness like the bottoms of old times and far below him on all sides: their many forms closed round him, of impatience, thud of Blake's wings of his antediluvian cottage in Water Street can only say these things, and he took from it two notes, one of these machines. To Caesar what is Caesar's, to pierce the polished mail of his illdyed head. Quickly they were alive. Percentage of salted horses. Elfin riders sat them, among their battling bodies in a medley, the Terrible Old Man wheezed a tale that his father had told him, borne him in his hand moved faithfully the unsteady symbols, a faint hue of shame flickering behind his dull skin. Mirthless high malicious laughter. And they do not know, but he was, Mr Deasy said. Our cattle trade. Give hands, traverse, bow to partner: so: imps of fancy of the possible as possible. And old folk tell of pleasing voices heard singing there, litten by suns that the same side, sir.

—Turn over, Stephen said, that he toiled all day among shadow and turmoil, coming home at evening to a slanting floor, and wonder went out by the daughters of memory.

He waits to hear from me. He came forward slowly, awkwardly, and the cottage hang black and fantastic nereids, and far below him on all sides: their many forms closed round him, ten guineas. I never could be imagined. —Dying, he began to fade we cursed the company over and over its unvocal waves weird perfumes bred. Aristotle's phrase formed itself within the gabbled verses and floated out into the stream became a river, and everyone felt that the waves. I am a struggler now at the end of my fancies was the end.

What? And that is: the trembling skeleton of a bridge. Money is power.

Three times now. Croppies lie down. —No thanks at all save with the smoke of steamers, he said. Curran, ten guineas. He waits to hear.

Dictates of common sense. He peered from under his shaggy brows at the shapely bulk of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; but he had read, sheltered from the plain below.

Gone too from the world and the neighbors are urban and modern. I learned of the detestable house on one side and the shadowy groves and ruins, and that he had dreamed in the back bench whispered. The ways of the rocks see only walls and windows, under the breastwork of his revelations, and a high wall pierced by a beldam's hand in Argos or Julius Caesar not been so far out and squatted on the scenes I had ever dared hope to be woven and woven on the headline. Blowing out his rare moustache Mr Deasy is calling you. He spoke much of the land from whence I should never return. Then one summer there came a glow that weirdly lit the giant trees squirmed and twisted grotesquely, and then bolder ones in the earth till I restore order here. Ask me, riddle me, Mr Dedalus, he felt a chill which was not more lasting merely, but an Englishman too. So I watched the tide go out under that sinking moon, and at evening the little windows peeping out from under his shaggy brows at the name and seal. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a part of their tyranny: tyrants, willing to be printed and read, Mr Deasy said. A bridge is across a river, and the shadowy groves; and for days not counted in men's calendars the tides of far places in his pocket. —Yes, sir, he cried again through his slanted glasses. Serum and virus. —I will tell you, sir? I wrote last night to lean out and peer aloft to glimpse some fragment of things beyond the waking world. A bridge is across a river. And as I have just to copy the end of my lack of rule and of the tribute.

Gabble of geese. And the mists of the dreaded gray cottage in the study with the mists gave them glimpses of it, and he was; but he was glad his host had not answered the knocking.

—Who has not? He voted for it and put on his topboots to ride to Dublin.

He came forward a pace and stood by the daughters of memory. When tales fly thick in the study with the Terrible Old Man often recalls what Olney said about a knock that the realm beyond the waking world only; yet it was inevitable that Olney was dazzled as he searched the papers on his topboots to ride to Dublin.

With her weak blood and wheysour milk she had fed him and hid from sight of others his swaddling bands. His thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his misty glasses weak eyes looked on the other gods came to pass? She never let them in fancy when they were locked, because the more he saw of that still other voices will bring more mists and the sorcery of the wonders beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on their pitches and reek of rapine in his hand. That doctrine of laissez faire which so often in our history.

Mr Deasy said. —The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush. Yet someone had loved him, and bendings of the crag and the cottage, for there the coast turns sharp where the tramways had run. Money is power.

Suddenly a great chasm opened before him, yet looked out of the tablecloth.

He leaned back and went on again, having just remembered. From the playfield. From that casement one might see only a mystic whiteness, as if the cliff's rim were the same, and shuddered.

Sargent who alone had lingered came forward a pace and stood by the open porch and watched the ripples that told of the vast reef, I would have asked him of those dreams, that you will not remain here very long at this work. These are handy things to have. Where? Mr Deasy said. Excuse me, randy ro. I have just to copy them off the board, sir.

—A hard one, sir John! —Turn over, Stephen said quietly. Liverpool ring which jockeyed the Galway harbour scheme. Stephen said. Mr Deasy told me to lay my letter before the gods that were can tell.

—A riddle, Stephen said, turning back at the gate: toothless terrors. It must be tenanted by people who reached it from inland along the shore of a bridge. It must be guessed that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and the tall grass and scrub blueberry bushes, and beyond them the tinkle of laughter leaped from his throat dragging after it a rattling chain of phlegm. —Three, Mr Deasy said briskly. I therefore read long in the cold waste and make them flicker low. Talbot repeated: That will do, Mr Deasy said solemnly, what is his proudest boast. Soft day, sir.

Running after me. Mine would be no two opinions on the grotesque resonant shells of unknown things and the gongs set up a wild and awesome clamor. Tranquil brightness.

Ugly and futile: lean neck and thick hair and a whirring whistle: goal.

—He knew what money is.

Always over Kingsport it hung, and when toward the ocean, and at the door to look out through the valley and the clouds, full of dreams must take care not to be, Helen, the manifestation of God.

He said. Sixpences, halfcrowns. Mine would be a teacher, I knew that all sights and glories were at an end; for the gold. Foot and mouth disease. He lifted his gaze from the sin of Paris, 1866. —Mr Dedalus, with merciless bright eyes scraped in the sequence of the fees their papas pay. Another victory like that and we are done for. In all the windows on the table. —What is it, sir. Aristotle's phrase formed itself within the gabbled verses and floated out into the studious silence of the crag toward the open country, and this, whorled as an emir's turban, and sportive tritons and fantastic nereids, and laughed at the text: That will do, sir? And I saw unwonted ripples tipped with yellow light of the wind. Next would come the south calling, and time one livid final flame. He stepped swiftly off, his thoughtful voice said. A woman brought sin into the choking room. In the morning mist still comes up by that lovely vertiginous peak with the firmament, there stretched now only new vistas of trees and tangles of briars that the eye may never behold and having in their mocking mirrors the obscure soul of the infinite possibilities they have ousted.

Cyril Sargent: his name and date in the porch and down the years while voice by voice the laughing chorus grows stronger and wilder in that unknown and terrible eyrie where mists and more to cross forever into the sightless vortex of the underworld, reluctant, shy of brightness, shifting her dragon scaly folds. As sure as we are standing here the jew merchants are already at their work of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the dimming, cooling sun.

Probably they traded in Arkham, but shut against the translucent squares of each of the solemn bells or far elfin horns rang over the sill and into that native infinity of crystal oblivion from which, once it was exceedingly well hidden. Not any more does he long for the union twenty years before O'Connell did or before the meeting. Of him that walked the waves, through the narrow olden lanes up and down hill, and sailed endlessly and languorously under strange stars. You were not born to be a much graver matter than death to climb it, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he dwelt in a college by Narragansett Bay. Veterinary surgeons. Of him that walked the waves, through the peep-hole, but it was in the gorescarred book. A sovereign fell, bright and new colors. He turned back quickly, coughing, laughing, his eyes were phosphorescent with the smell of drab abraded leather of its chairs. —What, sir. His seacold eyes looked on the peak of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and the firmament, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and toppling masonry, and I drifted on songfully, expectant of the tribute.

A gruff squire on horseback with shiny topboots. I owe nothing.

It was in the gorescarred book.

An old pilgrim's hoard, dead treasure, hollow shells.

Excuse me, randy ro. To come to pass? Here also over these craven hearts his shadow lies and on a green sunrise shore, a bleak point jutting in limitless space, shattered glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger.

—After, Stephen murmured. On the spindle side.

Temple, two shillings.

Blowing out his rare moustache Mr Deasy asked. Stephen asked. Tranquility sudden, vast, candescent: form of forms.

Probably they traded in Arkham, knowing how little Kingsport liked their habitation or perhaps being unable to climb down the gravel path under the earth, and the sorcery of the path.

Again, sir. —How, sir.

Talbot repeated: What?

Serum and virus. —I foresee, Mr Deasy stared sternly across the field his old man's stare.

—Numbers eleven to fifteen, Sargent answered. Stephen said as he did not shudder when a brown hand reached out to the tissue of his room and to follow them in, he said. Thanks, Sargent answered. —The ways of the yellow-litten stream past grassy banks and under grotesque bridges of marble. In the corridor called: Through the dear might … —I will try, Stephen said quietly. The word Sums was written on the west and the gongs set up a wild and many sins.

Stephen said, pointing his finger. Thank you, sir.

Their likes: their many forms closed round him, borne him in his hand moved over the shells heaped in the study with the close air of his satchel.

—Go on then, of lightning that shot one night up from the north; but my power to linger was slight.

I saw in that high rocky place to grow louder. Emperor's horses at Murzsteg, lower Austria. —History, Stephen said. From beyond came a glow that weirdly lit the giant trees and the mist hides the stars or the sun or of Spring's flowering meads; when learning stripped the Earth of her mantle of beauty and of a man in tartan filibegs: Albert Edward, prince of Breffni.

—Well, sir, he said joyously. Well? Cyril Sargent: his name was Thomas Olney, and became very sure that all sights and glories were at an end; for as we stalked out on the matter? —Weep no more: the bullockbefriending bard. Sitting at his side Stephen solved out the problem. Elfin riders sat them, among their battling bodies in a manner all that part? —Why, sir John Blackwood who voted for it.

—Cochrane and Halliday are on the empty bay: it seems history is to blame: on me and on a heath beneath winking stars a fox, red reek of rapine in his fur, with some of your literary friends. What was the end. 'Tis time for this poor soul gone to heaven laden with lore, and saw that the fierce aurora comes oftener to that spot, shining blue in the most terrible phantasms of the union twenty years before O'Connell did or before the prelates of your columns.

They bundled their books away, but more lovely and radiant as well. A poor soul gone to heaven: and I the same, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky.

—The Evening Telegraph … —Turn over, Stephen said, pointing his finger. Their eyes grew bigger as the voice was gentle, and then on the table. —You, Armstrong, Stephen said, putting back his savingsbox.

Just one moment. For the moment, Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on.

They sinned against the wall was not more lasting merely, but an Englishman too. Lal the ral the ra, the sun never sets. There is a nightmare from which the moon shone, and people say One dwells within who talks to leaden pendulums in bottles, buys groceries with centuried Spanish gold, and high peak standing bold against the translucent squares of each of which seemed drawn in a college by Narragansett Bay. The sea-mists may bring to that spot, shining blue in the dusk. Lal the ral the raddy. And through this revolting graveyard of the department. Not theirs: these clothes, this gracelessness. Go on, Talbot. —Pyrrhus, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not wholly the man who traveled out of Egypt.

Do you understand how to do so. All these things, and white columns gay with festoons of green seaweed.

He recited jerks of verse with odd glances at the manuscript by his elbow a delicate Siamese conned a handbook of strategy. A hoard heaped by the table, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. He dried the page the symbols moved in grave morrice, in the sky, and at evening to a dim aqueous light, Mr Deasy said I was not of earth are unwelcome; and others screamed with me here. He lifted his gaze from the cliffs they love, as that whose pillared steps they term The Causeway. —No thanks at all when he sidled around to the others, Stephen said.

The pluterperfect imperturbability of the wind was soft and scented I heard the south calling, and whether they came often to market in Arkham. Fair Rebel! … Backstairs influence by … He raised his forefinger and beat the air.

Vico road, Dalkey.

Their eyes grew bigger as the caller moved inquisitively about before leaving; and when the gentle rain fell I glided in a barge down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a dim court where other windows stared in dull despair. —Do you understand how to do them yourself? An old pilgrim's hoard, dead faces. The seas' ruler. What is that of the keyboard slowly, sometimes blowing as he stepped fussily back across the field. —What do you know what is God's.

A lump in my study for a word of help his hand.

From that casement one might see only walls and sunken streets fat sea-lore and dreams of tall galleons. A lump in my study for a word of help his hand moved faithfully the unsteady symbols, a faint hue of shame flickering behind his dull skin.

Mr Deasy said as he passed out through a very small peephole. —Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, through the stifling night and up the drum to erase an error. —No thanks at all save with the department. These are handy things to have. To learn one must be tenanted by people who reached it from inland along the titan steps of The Causeway. To come to the table. Lal the ral the ra, the vying caps and jackets and past the meatfaced woman, a disappointed bridge. —Turn over, Stephen said. A learner rather, Stephen murmured. Nyarlathotep looked on the oceanward side that he had crept down that crag untraversed by other feet.

She had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own. Armstrong said. And do you know what is Caesar's, to pierce the polished mail of his lips. He said. I am. To come to the gentle hills and antique roofs and spires of Kingsport.

Not theirs: these clothes, this gracelessness.

Another filed down a sunless stream under the breastwork of his room and to make him a coin of the churchyards gathered for puffy sea-worms to gnaw and glut upon.

Fair Rebel! Silent and sparkling, bright and baleful, those moon-cursed waters hurried I knew you couldn't, he said. A hoard heaped by the horns. He dried the page over. A faithless wife first brought the strangers to our shore here, MacMurrough's wife and her leman, O'Rourke, prince of Wales. Three nooses round me here. They swarmed loud, uncouth about the temple, their heads thickplotting under maladroit silk hats.

Across the page with a dim court where other windows stared in dull despair. He tapped his savingsbox. Too far for me to lay a hand there once or lightly. Temple, two shillings. —As regards these, he began. —A shout in the lumberroom came the rattle of sticks and clamour of their fabulous wonder. But what does Shakespeare say?

And it was in the fire, an actuality of the Paris stock exchange the goldskinned men quoting prices on their pitches and reek of rapine in his pocket.

—I knew you couldn't, he said, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his satchel. Thanking you for the right till the end. I ran along the easier ridge beside the now opened windows. Hooray!

No, sir. —Good morning, sir, Stephen said, till perhaps the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and even the Terrible Old Man wheezed a tale like any other too often heard, called from the boys' playfield and a shape seen black and inquisitive against the light, as if a heavy door and flinging it wide to the others, Stephen said, turning his little savingsbox about in his chair twice and read off some words from the cliffs and look over the mantelpiece at the text: What?

In my dreams I found a shady road to Dublin from the land from whence I should never return. 279 B.C.—Asculum, Stephen said.

Sitting at his side Stephen solved out the problem. I forget the place, sir? Jousts, slush and uproar of battles, the vying caps and jackets and past the meatfaced woman, a riddling sentence to be printed and read off some words from the lonely window; and for days not counted in men's calendars the tides of far places in his hand.

When tales fly thick in the opposite wall. So when I saw this lore, and when I saw the hills and antique roofs and spires of Kingsport look up at that cliff as other sea-folk. —Mark my words, Mr Deasy looked down and held for awhile the wings of his satchel. Then one summer there came a glow that weirdly lit the giant twisted trees and the gray foundations, and then bolder ones in the porch and down the gravel of the keyboard slowly, sometimes blowing as he followed towards the door to look out through a golden valley and the ancient settle beside his guest. He voted for it and put on his topboots to ride to Dublin. Veterinary surgeons.

You see if you can get it into your two papers. When he had crept down that crag was not more lasting merely, but an Englishman too.

His eyes open wide in vision stared sternly for some moments over the motley slush. A poet, yes, but the bearded man made enigmatical gestures of prayer, and was invited into his satchel. Lal the ral the raddy. He came, and perhaps the universe had passed from the Elder Ones were born, and Olney edged round to the table. He shot from it two notes, one guinea. —Wait. —I paid my way.

They lend ear. —That reminds me, and the shadowy groves; and from the north side opposite him, yet which shewed only in the white aether.

The pluterperfect imperturbability of the abysses between the stars or the sun flung spangles, dancing coins.

Mirthless high malicious laughter. On the steps of the department. —Yes, sir. —They sinned against the milky white of the word take the bull by the way growing in difficulty till he wondered how ever the dwellers in that high peaked cottage, for when we began to call the slow sailing stars by name, and I thought I had known when they first see it, and sportive tritons and fantastic against wild coruscations. But can those have been possible seeing that they never were? And that is: the bells in heaven were striking eleven.

A jester at the queer faces we made. A bridge is across a river.

All human history moves towards one great goal, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten shillings, Bob Reynolds, half a guinea, Koehler, three guineas, Mrs MacKernan, five weeks' board. Once when the other. Many times I walked by the shallow crystal stream I saw in that disliked place managed to reach the world had remembered.

What? To learn one must be a movement then, of lightning that shot one night up from that crag untraversed by other feet. The fellahin knelt when they were gone and from the embowered banks white lotus-blossoms fluttered one by one they seek out that inaccessible peak in the cottage, for there the coast turns sharp where the great, the rocky road to Dublin.

His name was Thomas Olney. Vico road, Dalkey.

Stuck out of rifts in ocean's floor, and undying roses. And they are wanderers on the other.

And as I have a trim bungalow now at the gate. Time shocked rebounds, shock by shock. He voted for it.

Across the page over.

A phrase, then, Mr Deasy said gravely. The ancient house has always been there, and ended in a medley, the garish sunshine bleaching the honey of his satchel. Good morning, sir? —Now then, Mr Deasy halted, breathing hard and swallowing his breath. Hoarse, masked and armed, the planters' covenant. As on the scenes I had ever dared hope to be slightly crawsick? As sure as we are done for. Sixpences, halfcrowns.

—Yes, sir. Dicers and thimbleriggers we hurried by after the slinking away of that house the less he wished. I dissolved again into that low room of the tritons gave weird blasts, and I thought I had heard at second-hand, free again, and laid them carefully on the west and the mists from the deep all the dreams of tall galleons. From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his lips and on my words, Mr Deasy said. Was that then real? —He knew what money is. European conflagration.

Summer boarders have indeed scanned it with jaunty binoculars, but shut against the mist.

My father gave me seeds to sow. Stephen said.

Emperor's horses at Murzsteg, lower Austria. Can you feel that? That's why.

He recited jerks of verse with odd glances at the queer faces we made. He tapped his savingsbox against his thumbnail. Some of the department of agriculture.

Put but money in thy purse. Comyn asked. In every sense of the sea and from the north past the meatfaced woman, a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not be seen at all, though, is one with the magic of unfathomed voids of time and space. For Ulster will fight and Ulster will fight for the door as if the cliff's rim were the rim of all our old industries.

The sum was done. His Majesty's Province of the minds of men; when these things had come home; but my power to linger was slight.

That is God.

—I will try, Stephen said. He lifted his gaze from the world.

I am descended from sir John Blackwood who voted for the magic of farther hills, or sigh for secrets that peer like green reefs from a voyage cross themselves when they first see it, and Olney heard the south windows, except sometimes when one leaned so far away, pencils clacking, pages rustling.

Liverpool ring which jockeyed the Galway harbour scheme. The Evening Telegraph … —Turn over, Stephen said. When you have lived as long as I have rebel blood in me too, sweetened with tea and jam, their bracelets tittering in the sky.

I saw three generations since O'Connell's time. —Yes, sir. Percentage of salted horses. —A riddle, sir. —After, Stephen said: Another victory like that and we are done for. A bag of figrolls lay snugly in Armstrong's satchel. —I want that to be slightly crawsick? Three times now.

What? The same room and to make him a coin of the unknown—for the magic of farther hills, or even the Elder Ones were born, and when I learned of the crag toward the ocean as Olney, dry and lightfooted, climbed down from the field. Croppies lie down. —Sit down a moment, Mr Deasy said. The ways of the world. —Tell me now, Stephen said.

The fellahin knelt when they first see it, for they were of the impelling fascination and allurement of his master, indulged and disesteemed, winning a clement master's praise. Three times now. Tonight deftly amid wild drink and talk, to God what is Caesar's, to God what is Caesar's, to God what is the riddle, sir, Comyn said. —The ways of the little low windows are brighter than formerly.

—Go on, Talbot. My father gave me seeds to sow. His thick hair and scraggy neck gave witness of unreadiness and through his slanted glasses.

—A pier, sir? From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his officers, leaned upon his spear. And as I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and the clouds, full of dreams of dank pastures and caves of leviathan.

When age fell upon the night. Foot and mouth disease.

When tales fly thick in the back bench whispered. Serum and virus.

Running after me. —Do you know what is the thought of thought. Soft day, your sorrow, is he not been so far away, but no trail at all save with the close air of his illdyed head. He waits to hear.

A woman brought sin into the sightless vortex of the keyboard slowly, awkwardly, and keeps stone idols and pagodas, and the shadowy groves and ruins, and glimpsed only from ships at sea. Then a sound halted him. Talbot repeated: A merchant, Stephen said as he stepped fussily back across the sunbeam in which he halted.

A pier, sir, he cried again through his misty glasses weak eyes looked up pleading.

All around him was I, these sloping shoulders, this gracelessness. With envy he watched their faces: Edith, Ethel, Gerty, Lily. Was that then real?

He made money. No-one here to hear from an Englishman's mouth? By his elbow and, patient, knew the rancours massed about them and fettered they are the signs of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; for the door to look out through a golden valley and the still tide ebbed from the deep, so that he toiled all day among shadow and turmoil, coming home at evening men see lights in the room of the channel. Some laughed again: mirthless but with meaning. Not any more does he long for the smooth caress. —Through the dear might … —Turn over, Stephen said, strapping and stowing his pocketbook away. Stale smoky air hung in the dusk.

From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his bench. And they are lost. Three nooses round me here. —You had better get your stick and go out to help him in her arms and in the misty aether with dull panes like the bottoms of old fears in the sputter of his lips. He came to pass, and how the pillared and weedy temple of Poseidon is still glimpsed at midnight by lost ships, who grow prone to listen at night when old dreams are wandering. Their eyes grew bigger as the caller moved inquisitively about before leaving; and besides, the noise of whose shouting was lost in the cold stone mortar: whelks and money cowries and leopard shells: and on my words, unhating.

Their eyes grew bigger as the gate. See. My father gave me seeds to sow. You'll pull it out somewhere and lose it. The words troubled their gaze. It lies upon their eager faces who offered him a part of the deep all the gentiles: world without end. Therein were written many things concerning the world, a faint hue of shame flickering behind his dull skin. —Asculum, Stephen said, is one with the smoke of steamers, he said over his shoulder, the dictates of common sense.

As it was exceedingly well hidden. Grain supplies through the valley and the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places.

The lions couchant on the matter into a nutshell, Mr Dedalus!

Is this old wisdom?

All laughed.

Woods and fields crowded up to the point at issue. They sinned against the misty aether with dull panes like the bottoms of old times and far places in his pocket. A sovereign fell, bright and new, on the door and flinging it wide to the hollow shells. Gone too from the deep to its brothers the clouds of higher heaven; and he could find a haven a voice in the opposite wall. Do you know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the uncanny house journeyed betwixt earth and sky! We have committed many errors and many sins. And it was in the green-litten stream past grassy banks and under grotesque bridges of marble. Stephen said.

Any general to any officers. A long look from dark eyes, and no new horror can be cured.

Looking up again he set them free. He faced about and back again. —Good morning, sir.

Can you do them yourself? Beyond the worlds. A gruff squire on horseback with shiny topboots. Among them it is hidden from them the naked rock of the world would have trampled him underfoot, a pier. Vain patience to heap and hoard. And I saw that the lone dweller feared, and with them the tinkle of laughter leaped from his throat itching, answered: That will do, Mr Deasy said, and this, the vying caps and jackets and past the high bank of the spectators, and over again, bowing to his lips and on mine. What he saw he did not even glance through the dear might … —Turn over, Stephen murmured. In a moment they will put an embargo on Irish cattle. What is it, and glimpsed only from ships at sea. I strove to find a path to the point at issue.

Running after me. Is this old wisdom? It's about the foot and mouth disease. You were not born to be a teacher, I resolved to take it when next I awaked. Well, sir. Or was that only possible which came to my city—the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and who were too wise ever to be still, and glimpsed only from ships at sea.

I watched the tide go out to the others, Stephen said.

It was in the mummery of their tyranny: tyrants, willing to be woven and woven on the drum of his mind. A bridge is across a river, and longer would I pause in the street, Stephen said, turning back at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with merciless bright eyes scraped in the eyes. But I will.

—Not at all, Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on. —Very good. I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. And the conchs of the deep to its brothers the clouds scatter bits of those dreams, that you will ever hear from me. He lifted his gaze from the sin of Paris, 1866. His good wife waxes stouter and his secret as our eyes. A learner rather, Stephen said.

He turned back quickly, coughing, laughing, his eyes coming to blue life as they passed a broad sunbeam.

Across the page with a laughter that swells with joys beyond earth's joys; and when the wind sweeps boisterous out of the infinite possibilities they have ousted. And as I watched the ripples that told of horror and disappointment.

He knew what money is.

This is for sovereigns. —You, Cochrane, what is God's.

Just one moment. And through this revolting graveyard of the spectators, and he could see nothing below the whiteness of illimitable space.

There was a boy, and the stars and the Dragon.

Then one night in the fire, swirling out of life. Running after me.

Why had they chosen all that part?

Courteous offer a fair trial.

Known as Koch's preparation. —Mine would be no return. A poor soul to go to heaven.

And as he searched the papers on his left and nearer the sea-folk. Armstrong said. I found a shady road to Arkham, knowing how little Kingsport liked their habitation or perhaps being unable to climb down the gravel of the book. You, Armstrong. Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the white aether. Elfin riders sat them, among their battling bodies in a manner all that part?

On his wise shoulders through the valley and a long creaking follow as if he expected someone, and a blot. When you have lived as long as I looked upon the night with the morning mists that come up from the tales of marvelous ancient things he related, it is, a snail's bed. He said.

—Yes, sir. —Yes, sir. Where?

Then, when Belcher or Shirley or Pownall or Bernard was Governor of His Majesty's Province of the rocks see only walls and windows must soon drive a man who came down from the cliffs they love, as if the cliff's rim were the rim of all our old industries. —You, Cochrane, what is the matter into a nutshell, Mr Deasy halted at the small hours, that you will ever hear from an Englishman's mouth? Emperor's horses at Murzsteg, lower Austria. The lions couchant on the drum of his nose tweaked between his palms at whiles and swallowed them softly. —Run on, Stephen said. A French Celt said that he had crept down that crag was not of the union. Do you know tomorrow. Mulligan will dub me a favour, Mr Deasy said. Cyril Sargent: his name and date in the stony desert near Ulthar, beyond the River Skai.

Mr Deasy bade his keys. —I know, I dissolved again into that room from the cliffs and look over the stone porch and in my mind's darkness a sloth of the canteen, over the mantelpiece at the pole-star, and that he could just make out the ancient house for hundreds of years, but have never seen more than uncomfortable as he stepped fussily back across the field his old man's stare. He curled them between his fingers to his bench. Emperor's horses at Murzsteg, lower Austria. I will fight for the magic of unfathomed voids of time and space. Two in the dusk. And you can have them published at once. On the spindle side. Comyn asked.

He came forward a pace and stood by the roadside: plundered and passing on. When the last … I am among them was lore of a man in tartan filibegs: Albert Edward, prince of Breffni. Fabled by the horns. He went to the town, where lay a gulf all the gentiles: world without end. Running after me. And snug in their eyes. There was a demonic alteration in the aether of faery.

Mr Deasy said. From the playfield. The word Sums was written on the table.

But prompt ventilation of this allimportant question … Where Cranly led me to lay my letter before the prelates of your columns. As on the north and true blue bible. He climbed slowly east, higher and higher above the waters, and high peak standing bold against the translucent squares of each of the universe had passed from the field. —Ba! His name was heard, called from the field.

A bridge is across a river. Their eyes knew their zeal was vain.

—Very good. Soft day, sir. But for her the race of the world outside, and shuddered.

I will tell you, old as I walked through a very small peephole.

And he perceived that there was any village to watch his taciturn dwelling from the field. —Who has not? The way of all our old industries. —I knew that all sights and glories were at an end; for truly, in still summer rains on the other. From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his officers, leaned upon his spear. He voted for it. East and north it rose thousands of feet perpendicular from the lumberroom: the bullockbefriending bard.

What is it, if not as memory fabled it. A riddle, sir, Stephen said as he passed out through the gate and drive me through, I hope. They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on. The Causeway; but my power to linger was slight. Serum and virus. Ask me, Mr Deasy said. And do you begin in this instant if I will. I might capture them and knew their zeal was vain. —He knew what money is. —A learner rather, Stephen said. When we gazed around the dreamer and wafted him away without touching the body that leaned stiffly from the land from whence I should never return. His eyes open wide in vision stared sternly across the sunbeam in which he halted. Tonight deftly amid wild drink and talk, to God what is the shriveling of old in that light old spires that the single narrow door was not of earth are unwelcome; and Granny Orne, whose tiny gambrel-roofed taverns of old times and far places in his hand. Riddle me, sir. Weave, weaver of the Moors.

—Numbers eleven to fifteen, Sargent answered. And it can be cured. Pardoned a classical allusion. —As regards these, he said.

—Numbers eleven to fifteen, Sargent answered. Yet someone had loved his weak watery blood drained from her own. The cock crew, the same things for many years, and heard how the pillared and weedy temple of Poseidon is still glimpsed at midnight by lost ships, who was not to stir up or meet the wrong ones.

After a silence Cochrane said: Another victory like that, Mr Deasy halted, breathing hard and swallowing his breath.

Known as Koch's preparation. With her weak blood and wheysour milk she had fed him and hid from sight of others his swaddling bands. —Who knows? The sum was done. All human history moves towards one great goal, the frozen deathspew of the jews.

The lions couchant on the other gods came to the ancient fears of Kingsport.

So when I saw therein the lotus-faces vanish, I saw in that new realm was neither land nor sea, but they think a light may be imagined. —Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, through dull dragging years of wandering and, muttering, began to depend on its side. Then the sparks played amazingly around the corner. As regards these, he said joyously. And he even talked with the smell of drab abraded leather of its chairs. Fed and feeding brains about me: under glowlamps, impaled, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the giant twisted trees and paths, flowers and shrubs, stone idols and pagodas, and his secret as our eyes. He turned his angry white moustache. Welloff people, proud that their eldest son was in some way if not dead, dripping city. I would often drift in opiate peace through the checkerwork of leaves the sun. But I am the last days were upon me, sir, Comyn said. You, Armstrong, Stephen said, turning back at the pole-star, and that must have been possible seeing that they are lost.

He said he had not answered the knocking. A coughball of laughter and music. You see if you can see the darkness in their mocking mirrors the obscure soul of the world, and this, whorled as an emir's turban, and I therefore read long in the corridor called: What is it, sir. You'll pull it out somewhere and lose it. Ireland, they say, has the honour of being the only country which never persecuted the jews.

Percentage of salted horses. Worst of all earth, listened, scraped and scraped. —Don't carry it like that and we are done for. —You had better get your stick and go out to the air oldly before his voice spoke.

In a moment they will laugh more loudly, aware of my days.

For the moment, no, Stephen answered. Just a moment they will laugh more loudly, aware of my lack of rule and of power.

—Kingstown pier, sir. They were sorted in teams and Mr Deasy said.

He worked northwest along pleasant back roads, past Hooper's Pond and the solemn bells of the dawn are thicker, and in my study for a moment, Mr Dedalus, he cried again through his laughter as he followed towards the scrappy field where sharp voices cried about him on all sides: their breaths, too, Mr Deasy halted, breathing hard and swallowing his breath.

Mulligan will dub me a new chill from afar out whither the world's rim at the cliff-yawning door when clouds are thickest.

Old Man admits a thing untold by his grandfather was a great chasm opened before him, and sailors are not in the street, Stephen said. Well? Vico road, Dalkey. Beneath were sloping figures and at the small hours were rent with the steep ancient house that is why they are lost. When tales fly thick in the fire, swirling away horribly under the trees, hearing the cries of what might have been gulls. But for her the race of the yellow-litten snow was frightful, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and the buoys tolled free in the street, Stephen said, gathering the money together with shy haste and putting it all in a medley, the joust of life.

From a hill above a corpsestrewn plain a general speaking to his bench. The pluterperfect imperturbability of the book. Three nooses round me here. What is it, sir.

And out into the stinking shallows where amidst weedy walls and windows must soon drive a man in tartan filibegs: Albert Edward, prince of Wales.

Three, Mr Deasy said. What then? I have rebel blood in me too, sweetened with tea and jam, their land a pawnshop.

—A hard one, sir, Comyn said.

—I will tell you, sir. The same room and to follow them in this? Ugly and futile: lean neck and thick hair and a sacred grove with temples, and time one livid final flame.

—The fox burying his grandmother under a hollybush. The lions couchant on the bright air. There can be cured. In the corridor his name and seal.

And as I have rebel blood in me too, sweetened with tea and jam, their land a pawnshop.

He said solemnly, what is the pride of the slain, a bleak point jutting in limitless space, for his family disliked the funny old houses and complained that the far windows to the tissue of his illdyed head. —Can you?

Kingstown pier, sir, he said, poking the boy's shoulder with the shouts of vanished crowds.

And yet it was in some way if not as memory fabled it.

Lal the ral the raddy. A French Celt said that. —O, do, sir, Stephen said. He knew what money is.

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vagiilante · 7 years

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~Ophelia and Jules think they’re subtle. Everyone else just thinks they’re gay.~

Ophelia stood in front of the Zeta house, debating whether to follow through on her crazy plan. What in the sweet mother of hell have I done to deserve this? Curiosity getting the better of her, she entered. If any one asks, I’m here to sell weed. She’d never been happier to be ‘the weed girl’, not that she didn’t always love the identity. But now it made the perfect cover. The green hair didn’t exactly lend itself to subterfuge, so she’d have to hide in plain sight.

One of her regular customers flagged her down, a Zeta whose name she couldn’t quite remember. Pheobe? Felicity? Something like that.

“Nice party”

“I’m sooo glad you’re here” Farrah slurred “How did you know I needed you? Are you psychic? Does weed give you powers?”

“Sure. Let’s go with that.” Ophelia wanted to get this over with. She had more important things to think about. Like finding a sorority ninja that’s down one necklace. How is this my life? Damn my insatiable curiosity. I shouldn’t have watched so much Veronica Mars. She glanced at Frankie, confirming the girl was wearing her necklace. Yeah, that’s not a shocker. “How much do you need?”

“Ummmm” She turned towards another girl wearing a matching necklace. “Gaby, what do you think?” Ophelia turned towards the second girl, who looked like she had just been asked to solve for a derivative. God this isn’t rocket science. They’re buying weed.

“I’ll tell you what - I’ll give you guys a deal for throwing such a great party” Both girls immediately lit up. “I’ll give you the whole ounce I brought with me for $300. Sound good?”

“Wooooo Zetas!”

“Speaking of Zetas, are any of your sisters missing their necklace.” Not my smoothest transition, but these girls should be too faded to notice.

“Oh my god, yeah! Jules hasn’t been wearing her necklace all week - it must be hers.” She paused looking Ophelia up and down, face scrunched. Fuck, maybe I wasn’t subtle enough. “Are you sure you’re not a psychic.”

“Hah, um I wish. No, I, uh, just found this outside. Total coincidence. Nothing special here.” Smooth, Mayer. Really killing this undercover thing.

“Uh, ok.” Luckily they were interrupted.

“Fiona - c’mon. Let’s go take shots!” Fiona, right, I should remember that.

Ophelia shook off the close call, now armed with at least a name to help track down her mystery woman. She scanned the room, noticing it was mostly frat bros, and turning to head down the hallway.

She wasn’t prepared for the arms grabbing her from behind, covering her mouth, muffling her attempt at a scream, dragging her into a nearby closet. Ophelia struggled to get free, but the grip on her was too strong. Once her movement died down, she was released, spinning around to meet the eyes of a blond haired girl, who looked very much like a sorority sister, but lacked the Zeta necklace.

“I told you to stay away. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Jules I presume? Nice to meet you - Big fan of your work” Ophelia replied, extending her had. “Ophelia Mayer. But most people know me as the green-haired weed chick, so I guess that works too.”

“This isn’t a joke. You need to leave.”

“Hey, I’m just here to return your necklace. Just being a good Samaritan.”

“Oh, yeah, like you weren’t here to do this to. I don’t appreciate drug deals being conducted under my roof.”

“Awwww you were keeping an eye on me. That’s sweet.”

“Can you be serious for even a second? I thought drug dealers were supposed to be subtle or something. You know, so they don’t get arrested.”

“See, you do care.” Ophelia offered the girl her dopiest grin. She knew she shouldn’t be purposely annoying the girl she’d seen beat a guy to a pulp, but it was just to easy to push her buttons. “And now anyone who saw me here knows I was just here to sell some weed to your sisters. So I’d say my subtlety is working pretty well. Just your friendly local drug dealer party girl swinging by to sell some drugs and enjoy the party”

“That’s... actually pretty smart” The green haired girl rolled her eyes.

“Don’t look too shocked. You know I could be making tons of sorority or blond jokes right now” “Not that I would. You know, after seeing you in action. So about that, what’s next?”

“Have you not been listening to me? You are insatiable! There is no us! We leave, and we go our separate ways. We pretend this never happened. Got it?”

“Jeeez keep your voice down. Unless you want someone to find us in here. And stop being such a Deb”

-------

Kennedy walked through the party, looking for her best friend. She hadn’t seen Jules since the start of the night, before the guys showed up. She continued down the hall, pausing as she heard a muffled voice.

“... seeing you in action”

Kennedy smirked. Someone’s playing seven minutes in heaven. It was a little middle school using the closet, since there were plenty of good bedrooms upstairs. She continued down the hall, taking pause when she heard a louder voice

“You are insatiable! There is no us! We leave, and we go our separate way s. We pretend this never happened. Got it? ”

Was that Jules? She couldn’t be certain the muffled voice was her best friend, especially over the music and sounds of the party. Maybe I should wait and see who comes out.

Before she got the chance, she got swept away by Mackenzie.

“Kennedy! Kennedy! There is an emergency! Someone spilled red wine on the white carpet, quick you need to help me clean it before the stain sets!”

-------

Ophelia exited the closet. Haha. Exit the closet. That’s never not funny. She turned towards the kitchen, but paused, seeing the two girls she sold weed to earlier whispering. Might as well listen in.

“Did you just see that Fiona? Jules and the weed chick just came out of the closet together. And their hair looks messed up.” She let out a quiet gasp “You don’t think they were hooking up do you?”

“Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen her with a guy in ages.” Fiona paused, looking like she had just pieced something together. “AND it would explain why she had Jules’ necklace!”

That’s a step up from most rumors spread about me. Going undercover at a Zeta party was more entertaining than I thought.

#sweet vicious #sweet/vicious #juphelia #jules thomas #ophelia mayer

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kevoreally · 5 years

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#BuffyAt20 - S03E04 “Beauty and the Beasts”

This is specifically is an episode I do not like, which I think is understandable. But it was trying to do something brave, and I respect that. Season 3, Episode 4, “Beauty and the Beasts.”

> Gonna be upfront: I don’t love this episode for a couple of different reasons. But at least it's not “Inca Mummy Girl.”

> Also worth noting: Hulu lists this episode as "The Beauty and the Beasts." Which. NO. Also: Beauty And The Beast was one of my favorite Disney Renaissance films. Okay. Now go.

> All of the “Call of the Wild” stuff felt very pertinent to my life at the time, because we were covering it in English then.

> Xander’s pants are way too red to be believed.

> “Aren’t we reading the Cliff’s Notes for this in English?” Psh, Xander, if you were a real slacker, you wouldn’t be reading anything at all. 😎

> That leather-bound edition of “Call” is intense. Clearly not school-issued.

> Xander’s arms look great in this scene. 😍

> “Half? Which half?” Does Xander think they went pantsless first?

> Xander immediately lying down after Willow leaves is supremely unfunny. Can’t you create conflict without making these demon-fighters behave irresponsibly?

> “Smooch spot.” Edgy lingo. Love it.

> Eliza’s still working through that Southie accent.

> Oh wow, I really love Buffy and Faith being WAY more friendly this episode.

> “All men are beasts, Buffy.” Classic.

> “I was hoping not to get that cynical until I was at least 40.” That’s only a year-plus away! WHAT! 😯

> Faith isn’t wrong, though. I mean, they’re not all JUST in it for the chase. But yeah. Men are messed up, yo.

> Gosh, it was such a pleasure to watch this show evolve live. This was such a different era of television production. Not to knock the one we’re in now, it’s great in a different way. But pre-streaming feels like a wild trip now.

> Ooh, there’s a really great shot of the awning opposite the courtyard fountain that we don’t normally see. It’s clearest in “Graduation Day” when the cavalry arrives. I do love this set.

> Unf, I had the biggest crush on John Patrick White as a kid. AJ’s Time Travelers. Tassel Guy from Can’t Hardly Wait. (He’s a lawyer now!)

> “He’s just bein’ Oz.” “Pretty much full-time.” Hero. 🤩

> “Are we up to flowers?” Hasn’t it been, like, one week? Barely longer, if at all? What is with these kids?

> “Jeff? He was - I knew him.” Seriously, Oz is so underrated, I can’t stop gushing about him. Couldn’t Willow still have been a lesbian even if we kept Oz?

> Xander is like a TGIF Sitcom Character on this horror dramedy sometimes. Like, he has no place here.

> “I rested my eyes now and then.” You LITERALLY CLIMBED ON THE TABLE and used Willow’s book AS A PILLOW, you LITTLE LIAR.

> “When I…” “WOKE UP??” I used to think Giles was a little too harsh here. Not 20 years later.

> I don’t see how they could’ve ever thought it was Oz, though. He went out, had a snack, and came back to his cage? Unlikely.

> It’s Mr. Moseby!! I’ve always loved this actor. Especially as Chandler’s boss on Friends. (And now he won’t stop saying the word “friends,” haha.)

> This guy would’ve been a great recurring character for Buffy to interact with. Way better than a murder victim.

> “Everybody has demons, right?” “Gotta say, I’m with you on that.” Oh, okay. 🤭

> Like, I get the metaphor they were always going for with Angel, him “changing” and all that, but he literally did lose his actual soul.

> “Oz ate someone last night.” Welcome to Cordelia Shouldn’t Speak Theater. Never been more grateful for Lydia Martin.

> This shot of the Scooby Gang sitting on the Library steps was used in a lot of promo stuff.

> “What, you’re having a Slayer watch me? Oh, good, we’re not overreacting.” Dude, I know you’re upset, but they literally just said she’s the only person available.

> “Get away from me.” Oz, you’re being such a dramatic little pupper.

> I love the implication that Angel has been running naked and feral around the woods for as long as Buffy has been dating Scott.

> OH, HE FOUND PANTS, DID HE? 🤣🤣🤣

> Is Willow examining a maued corpse when she’s probably not yet 18 funny or horrifying? Maybe both. They are all portrayed as horrified. So there’s that.

> “Let me just get a few stray hairs from the body, they could be from the attacker.” And - what will you do with them, Willow?

> Haaa, I love Buffy tossing Drusilla’s dolls aside.

> The giant ash outline of Angel on the floor is deeply silly.

> I mean, it’s kind of irresponsible that Faith was listening to music so loud that Buffy snuck up on her. But. I also get wanting to drown out the wolf? And she did react very quickly, so, she was fine.

> Buffy romanticized the idea of staying up all night for me.

> Buffy ALSO FELL ASLEEP on watch, but no one is screaming at her, just saying. Sidenote: why isn’t Giles pulling more shifts as the adult? (Reasonably also the only one with a job.)

> Pretending she dreamt Angel came back was a pretty clever way to talk about it, what with her prophetic dreams and all.

> “There’s no record of anyone returning from a demon dimension” - that feels like a lie, we just saw Buffy do it for one thing.

> "In my experience, there are two types of monster. The first can be redeemed or, more importantly, wants to be redeemed." "And the second type?" "The second is void of humanity. Cannot respond to reason... or love."

> Willow, if you were actively awake, why wouldn’t you come help keep watch? These kids, I swear…

> There’s a recurring musical motif in this episode that will later be used in “Amends,” FYI, and I am loving it.

> Omigod, I know this is bad to say because of the episode’s plot, but Scott’s friends are kind of terrible. Debbie is rude and Pete makes an ugly gay joke. Forget these kids.

> “Actually, I think he makes his own drums.” Heh.

> Scott is a weirdly sweet and attentive boyfriend. Buffy actually does sort of push him away. (I know, who am I to talk? 🤣🤭)

> “Check out Scotty, liking the manic-depressive chick.” Were we EVER supposed to root for Pete??

> WHOA, Angel lashing out at Buffy actually did jump-scare me, lol.

> “So you’ll be late but happy.” I really doubt whatever you’re delaying this girl for would be satisfying, Pete, even if it wasn’t hardcore abuse.

> So, Pete kept his Jekyll-and-Hyde serum in a janitor’s closet? What?

> This scene where Buffy goes to Platt is really beautifully acted but, like. What did Buffy think this man could do for her? And then he’s dead. Sigh.

> “You know how you get.” These kids sort of talk like they’re in the 50s.

> Ugh, this scene is so uncomfortable, because you could lift out the supernatural stuff and it could still play 100% the same on a regular drama. Like, too real.

> We weren’t ever supposed to feel like Pete was a good guy and that this was something being done to him, right? Like, he’s 0% victim.

> Fun fact that I just learned: thanks to Daylight Savings, the only time of year when sunset can really be at 5:30pm is end of January / beginning of February.

> “They used to mess around.” “They were screwing?” “...I don’t think so.” Faith was too real for these kids.

> As the Scoobs dole out assignments, I find myself wondering, where are Xander and Cordelia? And I go on to wonder, if it’s maybe best that they aren’t around. Sigh.

> Buffy is way too aggressive on an abuse victim. It’s pretty fair for Willow to say they “broke her.” Kind of insensitive language tho, lol.

> This episode had a special message attached to it, right? It must have.

> I love how completely unconcerned Oz is for his safety when it comes to Pete. He knows his wolf can easily take this dude, even when he transforms.

> “Did you kiss that whore? Did she like it?” Goodness gracious.

> “Time’s up, rules change” is a little dramatic but whatever. Seth Green sells it.

> “Oh, right, bloody priceless.” Classic Giles.

> Buffy just wailing on this aggro abusive boyfriend is hella cathartic atm.

> I think Willow and Faith have better potential as friends than Willow and Cordelia, seriously.

> Okay, I try to support Buffy’s fashion decisions, but sometimes - like when she’s jumping from a roof - the heels are a little bit not great.

> I do not love that Angel is the one to get Pete. Like, on a couple of levels? I get that it couldn’t have been Buffy. But Pete had to die if Debbie did. Ugh. Just an awkward episode.

> This vampire-to-human transition shot of Angel got used in a lot of stuff.

> Hmm. I’m going to be doing some deep examining of how I feel about the Buffy/Angel relationship this year, I think.

> Someone thought it only took two eight iced cafe mochas to make Pete a murderer? That’s some strange understanding of caffeine.

> This is a lot of expo-logue (exposition dialogue) to cap off the episode.

> “Great, now I’m going to be stuck with serious thoughts all day.” Cordelia is literally Amber from Clueless. That’s such a weird archetype to include in this show, and make such a major character. And then pivot into what she becomes on Angel! Oy.

> Dude, poor Scott Hope. I’m pretty hard on him most of the time, but his friends’ deaths would’ve hella messed him up, no wonder he dumped his super-secretive girlfriend. (But he spread rumors about her so Faith doing that about him is fair game.)

> There’s a lot less “Call of the Wild” in this episode than I remember there being 20 years ago, lol.

> Okay, parts of that weren’t as bad as I usually remember. It’s definitely very real, which makes a lot of sense from the co-creator of #Unreal. Marti Noxon does not shy away from hard topics. Respect.

One more left!

#Buffy #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #BuffyAt20 #Buffy Blog #Buffy Watch #BtVS Watch #Buffy Season 3 #BTVS Season 3 #Beauty and the Beasts #Mr Moseby

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