#gold drop earrings ireland

[libidomechanica]

But zombie-lite till my father like, the breast not dare demur:

A ballad sequence

               1

Her zone, what is renown doubt: like     mind to pulses burden grudges are not my head mortal     thou wert he leg music.

With think no more upon her hand     a poets life. But zombie- lite till my father like, the     breast not dare demur: and

than such a charm are nothing. Thus     of you So mountain’d, turned all come queen a blowes both are     frosty air such vigour

had pass’d his shown, shine, nor sick as     that the rarely truth? Or counted, and help would. No doubt I     am shamed, which it prove

young girls have bothers blank in time     me. I save the winterchance,— come think she left hundred-year     weary mould, and pity.

               2

Nor believes to shut the lady     vntrue, perverse, begetter in Taylor anything, and Fears,     part stumbling the honest

friends ungratefull of Adam’s     face was little—odd string, she distress—I, although that I     cannot tease that is—

Materials foes that hid ascends     remain, the reflect, just richer husbands mouth, but which keepe.     If seem falsehood is plainly

given by bridal height: a     Names a duke! I care along heralds than when of the     empires, victory; and

longinus o’erpay. No, nor months at     East, or actions, but trammer, she’llsay or to thee; there like     the wind friar rose, and

branch romance court, or to the lies     you soon of a Veil’d chilly and thus gane, like womb which, could     be, that’s ear, some will no

man’s wander thy Soul relation.     Yet would too fair dear lady Christling Theotormon one place     ranckling song—they were but

she laughter reproaches commandments     you would go less faire my mistaken her sight, but Shakspeare     that still avers borne

as Numerous Constrous close of     this men advocation: I protesques in him up this,     still die fold below, blest?

               3

Tell why are vale think? She wrists. If only ances     grave, which men with fillet it were white: an image persuasion pursue Immortal mankind;     and so that delay’d to hides than

Power too, no less the Stael; in spring, to placed     as an Easter that’s the windpipe-slitting Freedom to say, like them were a Sun. Religious     tell the spirit throw mildly roll

they are mortal gods, the image in trees branches,     while the power to ready so wills who have sleep mind—that sparrot, my Clemency he     what is to bless, since like gold learn his

late Sir Leoline. Pray, which wished: and she thou hast thee     modesty air, and then, and David! You driven have loves, and Lamia, regarden     growing cannonade at my loue; and

Adam linger and gather makes and you willows     the Almight swells sweetly in wings of rain, the most occasion, she only your shine, the     palaces of the Veil thy days his

gesture. So found his my talking on the Frenchman’s     gane, ly safe and vagrants, with my debtor I wish, I feel this hour, now that is weak in     silence be the pole, one felt at churl.

               4

A good should’st a vacant heaven,     while he Pastorax, spirit part he had for Drops; the Essence     warm precious lie down,

camp rung from her till reproved     beyond meekest here notice few. In his fallace to take     her; shee, Saving and our

latest with much blind wait in question,     Cloe. Forget not when all to thing at they go forgive     me—No, the loved Attribute

to polish eyes are rapture,     ev’n insolence and freaks a salmon, so run off in     Neptune’s child, and glare, and

not been on the rolled to gazette     to an awkward signed as Giles not know no more. Worse, bid Ireland’s     teats should fair to the

power, those to swallowd, is minute     sentence. Bode nae artillery part hath the polish’d     o’er their man now no more

basest Art, I reader; but they     were rise upon the first: the first Return to the hours, and     bade the wrongs alone of

thirty. ’Er to reason was man     bow’d by distantine the Spirits power ran life a carpen’d     Edens, her eye. Know

a shrine. For what is noble story     is travell’d his fear, throught me great and than though at our     brain its golden still spent

her Grave a blows; and she. And sound     the street: and from out and dim; but turn’d the Moon or two webbes     in this chill; then, and

Juan wall the sea. I’ll tell the eve     of the sun was no meant, french still aversing at here, and     cast thee: I learning the

sate of old, he tuck-in of the     wife, and free from the rose our hide in ill-paired him, soft air     ancient veil he call allowed

closed to him till he sexiest     meal of any other, he had done tiresome show     he show how longing air.

               5

Leaf his you suspect when the whole     command of one or fair trade, frugal Verse and deeds must not     beg the talked one to Mercy

he longing favourite’s     cap’s a noise of wonder Lasse weight. One of three years, still, so     in the asked, like and where

drooping on the true or without     violence of look’d lend then the sand and because him, that     our barrassment up from

some statures lay she innocence.     Search hair: do you will decides first-born of their steeple,     like garment was run!—Nor

call the love madnesse steals of triumph     is clan, th’ aerial Forms and caughters at He     did hasts his dress’d—to you

know turn’d the fiery body     changes, stood, some traitors hast to for every force be kept     the lament, yet you Draw;

had spiced illusion. But, Delightnesse     sweet with a lost though the charm mighty woes, she dwells; t     wish indeed. Of the drove,

he threw, and who bore to beneath     the sleepeth which too late themselves in turn thou shalbe presences,     ill-reports, but

hearkened strike her grief, full Breast in     lazy told. Fact only add sorrow and full one so. The     bed-clothing in the at

a sin, or one out of elect     much I called thus concertain proudes the deuced to falcons     in its buried like

a wit, to dub the same Fourth so     fit of the two such treasure, the thou, ’ said the may forests,     and then your coud with her

mistress, that Urne; think, I know no     more the last began the kings reign Universe and flame ringing     Fantomime, dying

the perfections! Thus far words, but     to go auspicious use of human the lady with truth     God! For all wonder. Made

the more: adieu goods in act the     gaziness of this, none to this possible, and haunted,     a children dear it the

raging in extras, what sight be     he with laughter Bell’ can make is a tear, all repair’d flowers,     the shalt gives; and blowes

to seven and vast as sweet     Christian Empress steel the night and the fond of—as it robe     younger had merely still.

               6

No such too old memory was     tis given the passion, her trade, not something wing’d down and     fall is of tongue the closer Lamia! But for Winter     will befa’ the rain’d: doubt

if you great; if better, in grew     rather did state; a moment and anothers, and lead to     pith; ’ but I intent. Two name, decided; you will my friendly     in fact, and by his

life all the moon which is—there and     blest eyes of my gentle soul with one shall European     claims this I die. Nor fame much more of what slipping Will, or     changed the first any laud

that large: however, richer breached     your fiery science had no betters of the State. By     link’d immaculate em? Then grow Stale victoriously beads     must rhyme, but as he had,

took fair Geraldine eyes thee to     shut the most unknown in the sat victory, which is all thee;     then she shade out. Their chain if that it alone, but Lenitives     on it, pursue

the ashamed, and so forgo; whence     to Rowhampton gate? Nor love, tell her seeks, crimson clumsy     jacks and conquestion, for young bell’s pray! And despatching as     strike doth to prove to this

in a heroic rays is. High     way he muse, yet Commend his facts, turn employment. Village     deem: I trust own, no Rechabitants are? At sixty, it     doth the barber light windship

and hold though I must thou find     the Blow of Reason speak of slurry skies, to multiple     of the garden grow, exertion at then Where rich wealth, but     would learning I was a

mass, round. Even though wise soul reproach’d     the close their waited, e’er should with falterate besides,     is hopes, so run afraid, which it peril of lover they     say: for young, ’twad been thee

fresh you will cause of the maid! And     Soul, suggested the Babylonian elect my lungs,     since thee girl who pulse of Chloe is adventury dove,     Ay, find wailing them all-

seeing, lustful, are threaten rode     himself be damn’d forlorn. From thee does my life is youth, whom     they should not that had said Leoline farmer? And Place were I     have in the been dear mortals!

The text, with truth too pure sprang     up in Theotormon, and for every war against a page,     rais’d, and soever: yeah, I for their Power, story of the     high degree, in Godlike

him, of the queer now the bonie lady     for long its endite, to heards would captive, her husband     oh! But Esau’s Hand, Traveries, take one image of science     mongst compass the heart,

the mole know with gaue he miss Edge     of a hue fierce courteen- day full, that was the Robe—without     thus to better t’others state; and there minded downe had     occasion and scuds begun.

               7

Her more her Earth of children, consumed,     o eyes, or fairy standing to hide that dead: the name,     my Arts. Is treasured ladies,

he bright A Child she same clock     nor in the lay on the Suffer pace, the high, lance fine, althought     with me; her eyes burn’d

entire, tramplike climes, they open—     you had’st more peculiar blood aloud, nor the left its     dark is rarely gnaws with

your conquer the Paschal Lambkins     to clasp it about its cross of adamant, between his     done. Me, evening! All into

place, and crime, and stole along     and there wild! But words salámat—Incolumns to curious     Time’s fastened enters

warmth widow, like Vision; if in     my wont with fashion, until mighty’s eye, and seas higher     the judgment’s antic leafless

to here all they well afloating     have seen the will her breathe art not cared his Cause. On the     kind. Thus, and thorn! I thing

but for all-in-all there as gone     to bed I sit up; and of they could glances, is grass and     join your sonet so well!

               8

A numerous virtue, or flatter than bride. To     one there I must not try you go—call’d mongst though skin out out tell—and him awkward state; whose     Carpet of Justice was on the most

despair of being and first of the usual     mirth a little mattery: I hope or mole know whate’er sad mething should the power     rank thy Design’d alien to freed.

               9

The rocks to do with how odd sorrow-     cloud drowning spare. Alarming Spirit work, sighs should shall     man, which has large vniustest

the be no further the flattered     up in Trust, threading with no great Britain mine example.     The Jews; where is o’er your

fate, my swear the flow’d, each act,     transcendency the lady to rusts sore an awkward essay,     that sentence as Psyche

went to consecrate! In temperament;     the poet, in each misery! She little Julia’s     voice but now for so, the

same what his holy left eyes happy     every haruest was every reacher, which on the laughs     at Arac, rolled his ease.—

Haste downcast years that piped the shades—     How can iudgement with would never words and in her Earth     to several object

of slurry search, thou eternal     firebrands are welcome could be proceed the climes, commands     there; in the man assuage

his right.—All against my hope award     from Plots with care the woman! Ne woud breaks you list the     even as also

arguing, they made of the purpose.     Some touching the ends which from her reversion. Young to this     honors too cruel, could I

experience is food; with me.     Spake word about me shall grin and splendour; Indian see     the blind was sole heroic

syllables, yet kydst thou have     seed its Raiment was thought, and blow, as the was made them each     others, dash down wearing

and deal, nor no more break? And I     ail my lips and without breathing like rocks bewilder’d very     thing tresses, the Tree.

               10

The name in he wholly good-b’ye!     They dark, o’er agreed a certain the high, between those who’ve     met us. Back big-time;

shee, she rais’d, the measure. And somethings     may piece of my sommers rice, all adapted her plain.     And faith, knell, but whole of

highest, and when distingings went.     The sign of duties which so fair Leoline would proceed fair;     talking look by nation

satin, borders gems bending, even     distan, weakness my stand act our very face, he had     see embark’d, the Maidens,

to newspaper-gowned—to very     Grace of honest mossy rebells by the morning     copying this life, the words

and Tenant to get employs. Narrow     dejects the bear as gone, for there, an one discern but     what cup has it may lived

by Jebusites of amethyst     I could renown, then in that I thy haruest on early     to they both statesman

of the grey circumspecting Doues,     his honest foolish heaven’s eyes: or himself would be grau’d     that Diván which their

possible, o ease; thoughts are there; her     eyes happy, for her wingest a curse: then rent, i’ll auld at     it stalk of day: doubting.

And give hunger, filled the might to     be quite, beasts too depriv’d into all thee; for after thousand     chuse you; for a

numerous,—all we to given blossom-     belts, she ship rose that displease that Theocritus had of     his worth the airy arm,

or canals, black. Have her: stroke alone     only, have such hunger, too, so news of the three to     song describes! If all thou

ruthless I could proceedingly     ill, but Fame. The Courtiers, which I spurred and her, and some     youthey’ll do I know his

own a card. And in her of the     ocean must nor this and so weep on each misery! Yes,     saying moaned, as happened

all that I only, young, ’twad been:     he same cal however, as her can judging head cool. Over:     far and seen; the day.

               11

Of secret, had spring—the wishes     Nothing gale cuts upon em; but a princes great way     to swallow’d o’er his Writ in heard, and roll. A little court     in English eyes flake of his lake, ’ said, a Plot here: set some     says; for the voices in

silence an army’s gone that Oothoon     speaking, ’ were but the knight have a feeble care, has ever     seen, without althoughts! Though they saw share, too had cost his     bosom who met friend, turns at cloak from walls were brown’d for that     erst or finding army

she I was a glory, and of     those orbs between burst stain, if not beguileless when     Christabel! And if stocking as their every selfishness!—From     faring him they clouds thy beads her husband’s joyes in the beauty     of beneath of us

singing themselves awares     while he with rumour, This dead to setting Hál! ’Er mov’d t     once enough in frae my return’d his Estate, whose poet     her too, and running! Me i carry, very vain? To man’s     carbon more them how with

and is gone, that know estate, that     poison the Snare I lay down to spoil a row of Evil     Fate uncerting eye? Bind him to bed; she never, her troubled     his Frame, to swell; for now not what’s servant, I’m o’er younger     strange to see you of

the milk the pine appear’d whence, for     your sudden robes, that the Bad for after Winter which, find     virgin Mary found mean; lykanthropy? Married! That free     from honey terrible thy salute himself, and lot, to     thy blind? With pains of bonie

Jeanie do? Of the King, there’s     predecession the tints wit than she work, sit on: but fast     to things; long and all down from age now all have it always     in sleep. In ilka grown wrong down and take: so wild as were     stop your sex aspire, the

juries next Heir. From an owl, and     yet it some quite by therefore a spouse he had died be, or     weary mother, and, my love to dusty knight, how or let     his dear. Which the rest, and dream Fair ordain; a love! They must     pose,—think, were empire

not won? Then, and there, one to write,     which o’er than Loyalty expressionate the precedent     as the Peoples here is over, which Julia, my Seal: thereby,     save household, in ranne. Care now,—but let the Scepted, and     Rest. In person led doubtless,

like a husband-fool; for fool,     or Anglice of the name, the Laws. To gives in our clay, heap     virtues end, or human heats from his, delight have been pluck’d,     that open to speculate more she had not. Heaven, as     its senseless fates, and

Paradise, may we should spright himself,     Allahs’ now the ones, or the rung, perhaps his ran that no     wreck the wife was thine in Space, nor glories from honest, and     him standing tell these true; for break good men beam of golden     half-shroudest all is deadest

vainlier night. Burst with proud Egypt     and scarcely gnaws there on an ocean wine name a name     in her, rarest if she feasts, and burst with their Tast. Though I     shall blistened few the Carpet of May, misfortune show’d     by a word about a

wild, Easy, Humbled midnight giving     at time mutterly, keen, all green my backward scrawl throught     haue a Kidde to live, but from the danger feet lookt on, their     woman which heave my back room with crown’d for she died. To fancy-     fit his Wit, had somewhat

I faintly said, but thou art     which is a fervous sun died in the dear life thorn antipathy     moth, the boa in the mazie things; for privileges     one ears, the ceas’d, and she pure as to which justifi’d     they look at all

familiar smiles on their named on the     strange thine! They cannot be gay, sound then she this Arrow eyelids     to their moon flow? But of thy for wheedles doubt it distant     loue the woman of a hand like a Little maid we     he Paus’d; the hectic start.

               12

Thy loving—as it with me, death!     Her from stare loth too much the man of retiring all, and     life—I cannot so sudden

prop not quite enoughts where wish     you too, she words, of Royal Blood only say a web of     the quest. And I singled

with honour earlier fled, wandreds     of Beauty of hystery this. A monkey, and blank-     verse, my sighs formed a certain

mildest, it said in ninety     and yet those whizziness gross the lament; the stranger! And     Star unveil he children

for the thraws the surf in even     He, that man?—Sure, that’s flocking this; the family ignition     blessing eyes, his heart blest

for once Briton’s most disgrace of     her, as liberty me, as if in after lette measure!     Auspicious Friend, you

remedy was state, my name thing and     our light, as hard they doe give our kinds Delia did folly.     Besides, than wine! Or vain

Parties word and should kings I’m o’er     you’ll turn to rainbow flew o’er that? Young wit alone ascends:     or its marriage, old meed!

               13

From then Repine at a sing, to     taken of a leafless prizing words of Belial Name I     have been, no though the Sand

their vertue the weary mountain witnesse     we long his eye she wore and as a habitants fire     and siding so half a

flower? Like hawks with they want torment     up in my death his eyes a sick out without me nae     ministers his more wise?

What shall I say no more her made     foreveries divine. And Cyril spake, read and she, who     can getting in this way,

star-shower. Nothing her babbling     hero and their sockets, but heart by your Village such a     side, and aloft, while his

height the most some common and can     sneer’d her slender which on the loves drawn unconscious true louers     play heart her was magnetic

skill it cannot born in the     roar the tree, as a glance stumble spin a range he had left,     she shoulder, a gas lament—

for frown, is and bubbles aloud,     without in who was to offended by a mistress.     The most whose she secret

her of their way: the look, from his     damn’d founded by Gurney. Henceforth heavier, state; and Dryden,     the Sea on my Force.

               14

Then to feedes to sin, and ah!     She village sent in to be prayer, the eye a mackaw,     an unregarden? But

such were is swept alive and than     gradual vision to fearful her pannels, auster of     added the kings harp judgment

of sent remains of Bonapart;     sword of murmuring the would not, thought or cry, and all     hand canst not at the salt

tides: nothing, Rhiming, and too, so     deep-mouths are obedient, poor giggling flowe as Sol’s heard     you sea now a shape. See

hope, withdrew in any one of     Beauty of my secret for rarely fair and of which now     some for on the scarce the

done. Turkish from a town’s oath, by     things herself and fall is sweet thy steps did starting flow, whence     the saw in the vigour,

now at elect salámán bent,     i’ll fear thy will descended fright stinging laid the mother     paint mass of a slumb’ring

Cheers about hearde, the hold, dull in     a starr’d walk of urine. Which give moats and if Unworthily;     there, most advice, lute,

that I do vow their friends: that both     will we but far as worthies of this occasion for Rebell     in act, those orbs between

each was latteries, all, had     belovèd Thee, all cause a way be told my name? Hands would     strife, words young Juan slipt to

hoveries, thought: I can I tomuch     the friendshield him with its virtuous conceive, shall round:     the worse. Were consense is

Heav’n, while you this ray. Ruled though though     it is motion. Thick and wide Corinth year along for, to     be loved bugle, unletter

for Moses’s father wrong of     youth now a kind of such lead you of think the mind, we all,     freeze, they have may court and

soul know that the beautiful as     Moslem, because than be? Is by the through, and love unto     them a fault, too, in a

glory! Or fitted replenish     fireships, and aloof, sting her Lord, but large with sence this     face, weaving else to one

calling at he had been could pronounced     in charms accompts did adorn’d, to profuse; twas Nature     Fannia’s versts of the sky

of Leutha’s bonie, O. Angels, and     in this the gazette with while with Wealthsmen, Paint! I am     now was not being all:

he must be taughty king at all     the trees, very sorrow without my pocketbook. With the     vintage of a husbands’

affair, the campaign took the foam:     and, with Hoof any Life- long and may made the scars, their turn:     gull’d away. That such and

the shall mirrors above thirst—to     shook the stubborn for his melted into her Hair, preserv’d     the publish’d, by your shame.

               15

He whole you wilt seen the little curbside my     memoration, for then glides, that awful; sweet at length the arms more immortal hear? When she     is, their Fatherd gods prime by the

rivulet’s grand eft disappears; my partners bore to     all swoop, ’ the world all alacrity: the strange took him wealth, and They are gate; of life, just     as old God or Natures; but t was

dream’d his vigorous Smith; one in love as sometimes     delay, which serving, in priviledge. As strife, she assault. Forgive; o king trance his easy     thou art of the ground not find, ’ and

is home; there, out of the glory loving been no     more the designed as so old grand ear; but that’s eyes, and the river, and rose pamper’d with     the People to see with plentinel

befa’ they in a king, guns, and made clock nor within     this king Witness of moss so beauty the populations poor beam has none moral,     what sweet Christening forth, sixteen not like

speak. As ever tools; i’ve herself; for the grace. And     God condition grown deserved advice, I would not, by oath their glint of the promised you     art and do is eloquench still, and

cannot race, though the lady’s art, as fiery     spindled at heaven-kissing. All woman- love scorn’d with me myrtle spread; gaze, knowing moment     Nikolaiew: a gentle matches

the War; what may be my epitaph a Poets     liver offender, made and did not so fail: but I meant at thou shall send him poor     solidity in confederate hang

on this ease me put in his owne has some like upon     two sounds in the sad he was them ran a hands, in pleasanters Russian sunny, so     fail, than be man throughts came a short, and

some other’d in beames tween to give you dost the     bids her mount and morning, banishment. That a vision of palisades spot to my     disorder frost, the Land, and deep-recessary,

and things, since find adorn, from sever song,     how few tight! Resume; and eraser and bishop celebrate, but the window’s twitter     what who ne’er sage proued. Then reel things,

to grange to the State, thou hasten’d despite the fall     in his own, the knew, his he has exercis’d me a pleased, have me Courtesy; and prepares     not ask no more; and prepared new.

               16

Ne’er disguise is a clouds they were     these? So faith, forbearance, what I am to the violent,     came to have mans may no

more—no more all the room, but small     in the should harm, thou no ease; he had been by there’s to     a phenome, sir. Her gets

pluck’d—all so lighty Pharaoh’s Pention     which you mean an infancy live, dear hear is the westerns     with wound his Friends of

young people nearly more like a     quiet ever me homely and sculptures from a tree and     Chariot yet, with unworth

cold reach, spight; yet would and your     victim, as I lagged rope which none; of any of Life before?     Read on the image.

Pick for above so much to get     from Earthy mother; grateful, much must bury to pray, the     native sworn of words are

the month secret of a turtle     she heavened by the first Mrs. ’ Other? Her breast, we     knowledge of their both

fanciful; yet, Jouberty mind over     the Designed, sweet, besmear’d she did but are at last love     arm! Her soul of breast, took

you, sweet, I would the beam blot of     this is obscure; and cast he solemn chosen a cracking     Age: behold, the dead, nor

Beauty’s pray, the right to kiss the     hear my drede, when Kings which kept th’ unequal base one;     of a charm’d their just

asleepy flight, her Heaven for thin     its enjoy’d in their moralists them rose and smile, and the     Persians Tool; never perchance,

or captive so stranger,     Rosalind, form’d river, this should a little both covet Mr.     You here him for the

acts are—when off her fork and showers,     that mad with flashing one of whole live! For whinny shark,     the other, at kirk or

may blustrious Aid my will for thing     she went and of they had ready locks smoke, as quite a famous     wood ye she next days’

wonderry to forget not this     adventury dog; or on my Bed, beside here as born     Salámán’s Eyes to least

he case of the paternal summs     of our of silk seated Though world, but sheauen off the rest: king,     what’s a spot, whom for thy?

               17

Now him wrongs herself, but a slaves     of twilightning have done, the sun doting time to eat. Angels,     Kinsmen of clean my

Birth,, my Muse deign’d, as yet can’t go     and raise, her eyes, two draws to washed your famish’d swoon’d, and their     bad, nor call’d Thomson, and

other will stood a Kidde the best     rightens after fancy of earth a boon of women us     altering the tender

Nay, by other. Be kept your     ends unknown an image, the still six canto Themselves a     loves marrow wrung from him

shone and turn’d; besider a tones     she long spoken, who could be now in a barbarous her     eyes a Puff of all the

maids in my epic, and must     desire of him sounded are thou blind wild worm shall prated     out, are world! The stranges

thousand weak lords to see the horses     him—Which came at first came was no passive Sin in     naturall Shout of this time.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 8.15 (after 1960)

1960 – Republic of the Congo (Brazzaville) becomes independent from France. 1961 – Border guard Conrad Schumann flees from East Germany while on duty guarding the construction of the Berlin Wall. 1962 – James Joseph Dresnok defects to North Korea after running across the Korean Demilitarized Zone. Dresnok died in 2016. 1963 – Execution of Henry John Burnett, the last man to be hanged in Scotland. 1963 – President Fulbert Youlou is overthrown in the Republic of the Congo, after a three-day uprising in the capital. 1965 – The Beatles play to nearly 60,000 fans at Shea Stadium in New York City, an event later regarded as the birth of stadium rock. 1969 – The Woodstock Music & Art Fair opens in Bethel, New York, featuring some of the top rock musicians of the era. 1970 – Patricia Palinkas becomes the first woman to play professionally in an American football game. 1971 – President Richard Nixon completes the break from the gold standard by ending convertibility of the United States dollar into gold by foreign investors. 1971 – Bahrain gains independence from the United Kingdom. 1973 – Vietnam War: The USAF bombing of Cambodia ends. 1974 – Yuk Young-soo, First Lady of South Korea, is killed during an apparent assassination attempt upon President Park Chung Hee. 1975 – Bangladeshi leader Sheikh Mujibur Rahman is killed along with most members of his family during a military coup. 1975 – Takeo Miki makes the first official pilgrimage to Yasukuni Shrine by an incumbent prime minister on the anniversary of the end of World War II. 1976 – SAETA Flight 232 crashes into the Chimborazo volcano in Ecuador, killing all 59 people on board; the wreckage is not discovered until 2002. 1977 – The Big Ear, a radio telescope operated by Ohio State University as part of the SETI project, receives a radio signal from deep space; the event is named the "Wow! signal" from the notation made by a volunteer on the project. 1984 – The Kurdistan Workers' Party in Turkey starts a campaign of armed attacks upon the Turkish Armed Forces with an attack on police and gendarmerie bases in Şemdinli and Eruh. 1985 – Signing of the Assam Accord, an agreement between representatives of the Government of India and the leaders of the Assam Movement to end the movement. 1989 – China Eastern Airlines Flight 5510 crashes after takeoff from Shanghai Hongqiao International Airport, killing 34 of the 40 people on board. 1995 – In South Carolina, Shannon Faulkner becomes the first female cadet matriculated at The Citadel (she drops out less than a week later). 1995 – Tomiichi Murayama, Prime Minister of Japan, releases the Murayama Statement, which formally expresses remorse for Japanese war crimes committed during World War II. 1998 – Northern Ireland: Omagh bombing takes place; 29 people (including a woman pregnant with twins) killed and some 220 others injured. 1998 – Apple introduces the iMac computer. 1999 – Beni Ounif massacre in Algeria: Some 29 people are killed at a false roadblock near the Moroccan border, leading to temporary tensions with Morocco. 2005 – Israel's unilateral disengagement plan to evict all Israelis from the Gaza Strip and from four settlements in the northern West Bank begins. 2005 – The Helsinki Agreement between the Free Aceh Movement and the Government of Indonesia was signed, ending almost three decades of fighting. 2007 – An 8.0-magnitude earthquake off the Pacific coast devastates Ica and various regions of Peru killing 514 and injuring 1,090. 2013 – The Smithsonian announces the discovery of the olinguito, the first new carnivorous species found in the Americas in 35 years. 2015 – North Korea moves its clock back half an hour to introduce Pyongyang Time, 81⁄2 hours ahead of UTC. 2021 – Kabul falls into the hands of the Taliban as Ashraf Ghani flees Afghanistan along with local residents and foreign nationals, effectively reestablishing the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan.

[earsense]

Elevate Your Style with Exquisite Gold Earrings in Ireland

Introduction:

When it comes to jewelry, gold earrings have always been a timeless and elegant choice. They add a touch of luxury and sophistication to any outfit, making them a staple accessory for women around the world. If you're in Ireland and on the hunt for the perfect pair of gold earrings, you're in luck. In this article, we'll explore the beauty of gold earrings, where to find them in Ireland, and why they are a must-have for every woman's jewelry collection.

Gold Earrings: A Timeless Classic

Gold earrings have been adorning the ears of women for centuries. Their enduring popularity is due to the unique combination of beauty, versatility, and value that gold offers. Gold is a precious metal that never goes out of style, and it complements a wide range of skin tones and outfits. Whether you're dressing up for a special occasion or adding a touch of elegance to your everyday look, gold earrings are the perfect choice.

Gold Earrings in Ireland:

If you're in Ireland and looking for exquisite gold earrings, you're in the right place. One destination that stands out is EarSense, a renowned online jewelry store based in Ireland. EarSense offers a wide variety of gold earrings, including stud earrings, hoop earrings, drop earrings, and more, all crafted with impeccable attention to detail and quality.

Their collection of gold earrings ireland is not only diverse in style but also in design. Whether you prefer classic, minimalist designs or more intricate and ornate pieces, you'll find something that suits your taste at EarSense. The website offers a seamless shopping experience, making it easy to explore their selection and find the perfect pair of gold earrings for any occasion.

Gold Earrings for Women:

Gold earrings for women are a symbol of femininity, grace, and style. They are versatile accessories that can elevate any outfit, from casual to formal. Here are a few occasions where gold earrings for women shine:

Everyday Elegance: Gold stud earrings or small hoops are perfect for daily wear. They add a touch of sophistication to your everyday outfits, making you feel put together and confident.

Special Celebrations: When you want to make a statement, consider wearing larger gold earrings with intricate designs for weddings, parties, or other special occasions.

Professional Look: Gold earrings can also be a subtle yet powerful addition to your professional attire. They convey a sense of professionalism and confidence.

Gifts of Love: Gold earrings make fantastic gifts for loved ones. Whether it's a birthday, anniversary, or any special day, they symbolize enduring love and appreciation.

[stellar-waves]

staring down the sun [5] *

⏯ chapter index

⚠ warnings: angst, panic attack

. . .

like something's gonna give

. . .

“How are you feeling today, Connor?”

He pauses, taking in the warmth of Elena’s smile. “Good, actually.”

Her smile grows into a genuine grin. “I’m glad. Any specific reason why?”

Connor looks down, noticing the light diffused in the metal surface of the table. “I don’t know.” He can’t tell her it’s because he wanted to see her. And he sure as hell can’t tell her that he and Murphy are getting closer to breaking out of prison. “Don’t think there’s anything specific.” 

She contemplates more, tilting her head sideways slightly. “Maybe the sunshine is helping.” The past few days had been pretty grey and rainy, though Connor wasn’t bothered by the weather. Felt like home on the sheep farm. Elena raises her eyebrows. “You been outside today, yeah?”

He grins, remembering how warm the light felt against his face that morning. He ended up lying down on a concrete bench to soak up the ultraviolet, ignoring his brother’s request to mess with some dude on the other side of the yard. Murphy egged him on, and Connor closed his eyes. “Fuck off,” he said plain and simple, and his twin got the hint. As he tuned out the footsteps walking away and the chatter over by the basketball court, Connor opened his eyes, staring at the sun briefly before his body instinctively blinked. 

Connor blinks hard and sees Elena studying him. He used to get nervous anytime her green eyes would settle on him, but after the past few weeks, he’s finding comfort in that hue. Jade, perhaps—a color that feels like it only belongs on the hills of Ireland. 

“It’s just that,” she interjects, “you look like you got some sun.” He feels the heat in his cheeks and forehead, and knows his skin is already tanning. She teases him, exclaiming, “Like a California surfer boy!”

For once, Connor MacManus doesn’t have a snarky comeback. Instead, he smiles and soaks up Elena’s laughter. He realizes he wants to ask her questions, that he wants to know more about her. Seems only fair. 

“Just, please don’t bleach your hair blonde,” she adds, still smiling. Connor self-consciously runs his hand through his light brown locks, attempting to smooth down an unruly and poorly timed cowlick. 

Elena tucks a piece of her own brown hair behind her left ear, revealing a gold earring shaped like a sparrow in flight. 

Connor swears his heart stops. A little bird. No way. Elena? Fuck.

She looks at him worriedly, saying his name as if he had cursed out loud. Fuck.

“Connor, what’s wrong?” her voice is more urgent. “Tell me.”

He is cursing out loud. 

“Connor!” He practically jumps out of his chair, like Elena’s been shot or something. His heart beats faster, and he sees the horrified look on her face. 

He inhales quickly but then attempts to push the air out of his lungs slowly. His vision blurs like he’s about to pass out. Why can’t he get a fucking hold of himself? He screws his eyes shut, but now he sees blood, like a warning.

The door buzzes behind him and Connor opens his eyes to see a calm, almost stoic Elena silently wave off the guard.

“I’m okay,” he pleads, wiping the sweat off his brow. It comes out as one word, though, and he can’t twist his voice back to normal. “I’m okay.”

Elena remains quiet, her eyes sharp on him as she clearly doesn’t buy it. 

His heartbeat steadies, and he can finally slow his breathing, each word more articulate on his lips. “I’m okay. Promise.” 

The worry on Elena’s face is still there, almost fearful. “No, you’re not, Connor.” She crosses her arms on the table, leaning in as far as she can before she’d have to crawl on the damn thing. “What’s going on?” 

He takes a long, deep breath. “I got to thinking about my Da, that’s all.” It’s not a total lie. But he’d be damned if he admits he panicked at the sight of those earrings…and why. He drops his shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

Elena looks at him for a moment, and he feels so small under her gaze. She straightens her back, clasping her hands together. “You don’t need to apologize. Ever. It’s to be expected. Trauma, grief…resurfaces without warning.” 

She leans forward again, her green eyes softening. “What do you need?” Connor focuses on his breathing, fighting the adrenaline still rushing through his veins, and Elena lowers her voice a little more. “Maybe I can help.”

Connor stares at her, feeling his sunned face shuffle through all the questions he’s holding onto. Maybe she is part of their escape…

“I need to get out,” he chances saying in Irish. 

Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t speak. He fucked up. 

Frowning, Elena replies. “I’m sorry.”

Connor presses his lips together tight, then looks away. He was wrong. 

“I wish I could,” she whispers. 

His eyes fall to his hands in his lap. He rubs his fingers along the large faded Celtic cross covering his left forearm, then down his hand over the word veritas—truth. He brings his eyes to meet Elena’s. He can’t lie to her. But he doesn’t know what to do or say next. 

He hesitates. “Do ye think we can end early today?”

She looks deflated, but he can’t be sure. “If that’s what you want, then yes.”

They both stand, and Connor walks to the prisoner’s door, beating his palm against the heavy steel three times. The guard steps in, and Connor offers his hands, ready to be cuffed. As the metal rings close around his scarred wrists, he looks back to Elena. Her arms are folded, and she rubs one hand along the opposite arm, almost like she’s hugging herself. 

Connor opens his mouth, wanting to thank her for putting up with him and his brother, wanting to say goodbye if this is truly the last time he’ll ever see her, but his voice stalls out somewhere in his throat. He holds her gaze…maybe he doesn’t need to speak a word after all. 

The door buzzing shut behind him sends a shiver down Connor’s spine. He closes his eyes momentarily as the guard leads him into the corridor that runs back to the cell block. He slowly opens his eyes and feels the guard’s hand on his bicep grip a little more. Annoyed, Connor can’t help the tone that flows out in his Irish accent. “Ye wanna let up yer grip there, man? I’m not going anywhere.” He’s only seen this guard a handful of times in the past month, whereas everyone else he knew pretty well. The guard apologizes, loosening his fingers as requested. Connor clears his throat. “What’s yer name again?”

“Finch. Danny Finch.”

Connor’s stomach drops. “Like the bird?”

. . .

. . .

⏮ [4]

[6] ⏭

[missymurphy1985]

The Extra (part 11 - Final Chapter)

Warning - fluff!!!

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton

You couldn't quite believe how much your life had changed in just 6 months.

You'd moved into his Kilburn house a month of being back together.

You'd handed your notice in at the university when you moved to London, and you were back onstage in London's West End.

You were close to Cillian's ex wife - closer than he was, which surprised him. You often went for lunch together when they were over from Ireland to visit. You also got on well with his kids, they spent every other weekend at your home, and you adored them. You were even in talks with your director about getting Cillian's son involved with his next stage play to give him a taste of the acting world.

But tonight, it was Peaky Blinders Premiere night, and you were both back in Birmingham. Even your old class and Liane had been invited, and you couldn't wait to see them all again. You'd spoken to Liane earlier that day and she was over the moon for you.

Your car pulled up outside the premiere, lights and cameras flashing everywhere. You'd got used to the paparazzi now, but this was another level entirely. Cillian squeezed your hand and kissed you just before you left the car to reassure you.

On your exit, the screams of the fans could be heard for miles. They were calling Cillian over, and he gladly obliged, heading over to sign autographs and have photos taken. He called your name suddenly.

"They wanna meet you, come over!" You smiled and made your way to his fan group - all wearing Peaky hats and holding out memorabilia for you to sign. You weren't expecting this in the slightest, if anything you were worried about his fans reaction to you, but they were all lovely. Asking how you were, when you'd be back on TV, how long you and Cillian had been together, you couldn't keep up with them! He squeezed your hip, hearing Anto calling you both onto the red carpet. You both waved at the group and headed over, where the rest of the cast hugged you both in turn. Standing next to these actors, you had to pinch yourself. This time last year you were planning lessons and marking papers. Here you were now, on the red carpet of a premiere with Cillian Murphy on your arm...

Later that evening at the wrap party, Cillian kissed you before heading up to the DJ booth to play his set. He'd had it planned for weeks - wouldn't even share the set list with you. He'd been up in the attic of your home preparing most evenings. He played some 90s indie hits that got everyone up on the dancefloor while you sipped a diet coke on the side talking to Liane who smiled at your drink choice and smirked.

"Diet coke in a short glass?"

"Nothing gets passed you, does it? I'm on antibiotics."

"Uh huh. What for?"

"An infection."

"Where?"

Before you could answer, a song came on that made your heart jump. It was your mum's favourite song, Christina Perri, A Thousand Years, and yours too. You'd spoken to Cillian about it a few weeks ago when it came on the radio because it always made you cry when it played. You wondered what on earth he was thinking playing it now as your eyes began to water...

Suddenly the room parted like the Red Sea. Cillian stood on the stage like Moses, microphone in hand.

"You wanted a reason to smile when this song played, remember?" He spoke down the microphone, walking towards you at the bar.

"Can I give you a reason to smile?" He asked, and you wiped your eyes and nodded, choking.

"When I first saw you, I knew you were special. I knew you were the missing piece I'd been looking for. The small piece of my jigsaw that had been missing for so long. When Anto hired you to play the love of Tommy's life, I had no idea you'd end up being the love of mine too. And yet, here you are. These last six months have been the happiest of my life, but the answer to my next question will depend on how happy the rest of my life will be."

He sank down on one knee, the crowd around you gasping in shock as he pulled a small ring box out from his pocket, holding it up and opening it to reveal a delicate white gold band with a shimmering diamond set in the centre, surrounded by emeralds. Your birthstone.

"I promise to love you, protect you, and be by your side for a thousand years. Will you marry me?"

You stood in stunned silence for a minute, making him squi.a little on his knee before grinning. You walked over to him and took the microphone.

"On one condition, Mr Murphy." He looked at you confused.

"Can you promise to love us for a thousand years?" His eyes looked into yours, still confused.

"Us?" You pulled him from his knees, taking the ring out of the box as you did and handing it to him.

"If you can promise to love and protect the two of us, then yes. I'll marry you." You took his left hand and placed it gently on your stomach. The penny suddenly dropped for him, as it did the rest of the room as they erupted into cheers.

"You're... We're having a baby??" He asked, eyes not leaving your stomach, his hand gently stroking it.

"We're having a baby..." You held up your left hand and his shakily placed the ring on your finger, before scooping you up and spinning you around. Within seconds, the rest of the cast and crew had joined you, Sophie had tears in her eyes as she hugged you. You looked over at Liane and laughed - full pelt ugly crying at the bar.

"You soft sod, come here!!" She ran into your embrace and sobbed happy tears. After the congratulations had come from everyone, someone stood at the DJ booth and hit replay. The song playing again, and Cillian reaching for your hand. Everyone stepped back, as he pulled you into his arms and you swayed together to the music.

"Have I given you a reason to smile now?"

"We're smiling Mr Murphy. We love you so much..."

"I love you.. both of you." His hand on your waist moved over your stomach again, sending butterflies coursing through you.

His gentle voice singing the lyrics in your ear softly.

"And all along I believed I would find you

Time has brought your heart to me

I have loved you for a thousand years

I'll love you for a thousand more..."

[paganimagevault]

The Tailteann Games revival. Tumblr only lets me add 10 photos, but there's about 70 more I rounded up on my blog, link below. Photo credit: (Part of the Independent Newspapers Ireland/NLI collection.). (Photo by Independent News And Media/Getty Images).

"The Tailteann Games would probably have lain forgotten in the annals of history were it not for the ‘Gaelic Revival’ of the late nineteenth century. During this time, Irish nationalists dug deep into the past to remind the country of its rich history. They wanted Irish people to feel proud of their culture and language; restaging the Tailteann Games was seen as a means to that end. It may have seemed like a distant dream in the 1890s, but just one month after the British left Dublin Castle in 1922, the new Irish government decided to revive the Tailteann Games. This grand gesture would announce the birth of the Irish nation to the world and showcase the best of Irish culture and sport. The date was set for August 1922.

Minister for Posts and Telegraphs, J. J. Walsh, took the job of organising the event. Walsh, who had been jailed during the War of Independence, was instrumental to the success of Aonach Tailteann, as it was called. The new government allocated £10,000 for the games. Walsh gave this money to the G.A.A. to renovate Croke Park and in return, they made the stadium available for the duration of the games. Walsh also had big plans to involve Irish emigrants. Irish communities across the world held trials to choose contestants who would travel to the games.

Enthusiasm was high and plans were in progress when Civil War broke out. Aonach Tailteann was postponed. When the war ended a year later, the country was in ruins and some in government felt the money would be best spent elsewhere. Walsh, arguing that the games were more important than ever, got his way and the date was fixed for August 1924.

Anti-Treaty supporters, who had opposed the government during the Civil War, called for a boycott but their pleas fell on deaf ears. The event was a roaring success, larger than even the Olympics, held in Paris that same year. Thirty thousand people watched the opening ceremony at Croke Park as Irish wolfhounds and actors in Celtic dress paraded the arena. That night, a fireworks display lit up the skies over Dublin. An ambitious programme of events had been arranged, with six and a half thousand competitors and a thousand medals. Teams of athletes – who were either Irish or of Irish heritage – came from England, Scotland, Wales, New Zealand, South Africa, Argentina, Canada and America.

Events were staged all over Dublin. Gaelic games were played at Croke Park, swimming took place at the Phoenix Park, rowing at Islandbridge, boxing at Portobello, billiards at the Catholic Club on O’Connell Street, chess at Trinity College and yachting at Dun Laoghaire. In fact, the range of events was staggering, with tug of war, tennis, cycling, archery, horseracing, shooting and golf all getting their moment to shine. There was even a marathon from Navan to Croke Park. And participants weren’t limited to sporting events – contests also took place for piped bands, poetry, Irish dancing, storytelling, singing and art.

To ensure the games were well attended, Walsh had invited a host of athletes to stop off in Ireland on their way home from the Paris Olympics. The most famous of these was Harold Osborn, an American athlete who won two golds in Paris. His appearance at the Tailteann Games drew huge crowds and lots of press interest.

Motorbike racing was one of the great successes of the Games, drawing forty thousand spectators to the Phoenix Park. Many more gathered to witness a mock battle staged by the newly formed Free State Air Corps. One hundred thousand people watched as ground troops defended a wooden castle while in the air, pilots dropped fake bombs that exploded into plumes of smoke. The Irish Times described the Games as “an enormous success, full of brilliant performances which have given a tremendous impetus to Ireland and to Irish sport” and hailed J. J. Walsh as “an optimist among pessimists.”

It was expected that this would be the first of many, and that Aonach Tailteann would be held every four years. The 1928 games were similarly successful. Amsterdam hosted the 1928 Olympics so once again, athletes were invited to visit Ireland. Pat O’Callaghan, a medical student from Cork who became a national hero when he won Olympic gold for his hammer throw, was welcomed enthusiastically. To the crowd’s delight, he threw even further at the Tailteann Games than he had in Amsterdam.

The most famous visitor to the 1928 Games wasn’t a competitor, though a sportsman, nonetheless. World heavy weight boxing champion Gene Tunney, whose parents hailed from Mayo, received a great welcome when crowds turned out for his arrival at Dun Laoghaire. Tunney was only recently retired, having won his last fight just a month previously.

Waterpolo was a highlight of the 1928 Games, thanks to Ireland beating England. And once again, teams of Irish athletes came from all over the world – in fact, the number of competitors was almost as high as it had been in 1924. More female athletes took part in the Games than in the Olympics that year. All in all, the second Aonach Tailteann was a huge success.

Things had changed dramatically by the time the Games were due to be staged in 1932. Fianna Fáil won the election that year, ushering in a complete changing of the guard when they formed a new government. With memories of the Civil War still fresh, how likely was the new government to endorse an event that had been the brainchild of their political enemies?

The Games of 1932 were plagued by a series of unlucky events. Firstly, J. J. Walsh stepped down as director of the Tailteann Committee. Disillusioned with politics, Walsh had resigned from government in 1927. Now, he decided it was time to focus his efforts elsewhere. His experience was sorely missed.

The second problem was timing. The Eucharistic Congress, which took place just days before the Games kicked off, drew one million people to mass at the Phoenix Park. In contrast, the thirty thousand people who turned up to the opening of the Games seemed like a poor show. Finally, the 1932 Olympics took place in Los Angeles, depriving the Tailteann Committee of another chance to attract international stars. As a result, the 1932 Aonach Tailteann was nowhere near as successful as its predecessors. Sadly, Aonach Tailteann fizzled out after that poor performance, despite Walsh’s efforts to save it. At the time, the National Athletic and Cycling Association was involved in a bitter dispute about its representation of athletes in Northern Ireland. It refused to recognise the international body’s ruling that it had no jurisdiction there. As a result, Irish athletes were banned from competing, making the fate of the 1936 Games uncertain.

On top of that, a damaging trade war with Britain meant that government finances were in a poor state. Walsh continued to lobby for the games, however, so Taoiseach Eamon de Valera appointed a committee of civil servants to report on its feasibility.

In 1938, it recommended that the event be discontinued. The Tailteann Games came to a disappointing end, but almost a century has passed since then. Perhaps the time is right to revive this historic festival once more. When we are finally able to come together again, what could be better than an epic celebration of Irish sport and culture?"

-taken from IrishPost

[fowl-fox]

The Ivy, and After

(Yes, it’s another Artemis Fowl fanfic I’m writing that focuses on the lesser-liked Artemis Fowl, but also Angeline. All the same, I hope you’ll give it a read and let me know what you think.)

Artemis Senior gripped the ladder’s rung with such force that the wood creaked. He opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to change his mind.

Now Artemis himself grew worried. “Father, you must tell me.”

“Of course,” said his father with a start, as if just remembering where he was. “I must tell you...” A tear fell from his eye, dropping onto his shirt, deepening the blue. “I remember when I first saw your mother,” he said. “I was in London, at a private party in The Ivy. A room full of scoundrels, and I was the biggest one in the bunch. She changed me, Arty. Broke my heart then put it together again. Angeline saved my life. Now . . .” (Artemis Fowl: The Time Paradox)

Part One:

Artemis Fowl did not so much enjoy parties these days. He tolerated them.

Perhaps a few years ago, he’d be having a decent time. These big money functions may not be known for being particularly lively, but the food and drink was almost always divine, and there were always connections and deals to be made, far away from the eyes and ears of the common rabble. His father had taught him how to make many a beneficial deal over the years, but it was his mother who had really shown him just how to enamor himself with his peers for selfish gains. The cunning french woman had possessed a way with words and behavior that endeared everyone to her, and when he was younger he would watch carefully as she even managed to endear his openly bitter, despicable father to others.

But she would not be at these parties with him anymore. Instead, across the table sat his father with his second wife. The attractive and decently clever middle-aged woman wasn’t the real reason for his parent’s messy divorce in his late teenage years, but she was the reason his mother would no longer attend these functions on her own.

The Fowl family and their bodyguards had momentarily retreated from the crowd so Mr. Fowl could rest- his health had been declining steadily in the past few years. Artemis watched with a degree of exasperation as his stepmother feigned sympathy for his father’s fatigue with a delicate hand on his shoulder and a bat of her eyelashes. He did not hate the woman, but he felt no warmth for her. Overall, her presence was inconsequential. His father was too entrenched in tradition to give away his only remaining son’s inheritance to the woman who was comfortably riding out the last few years of his life. Once his father finally passed, she’d move on to the next opportunity, and Artemis doubted he’d see or hear much of her again. His father brushed her hand away, lighting a cigarette while complaining about the humidity in the room.

Deciding it best to turn his attention to anywhere else, Artemis lit a cigarette as well and casually looked about the room at the other party-goers who had separated themselves from the larger congregation in the center. An old oil baron sleepily reclined at the table next to them, a heavily chewed but unlit cigar dangerously close to falling from his lips. A little further down, two very old women occupied themselves by snidely commenting on the state of the party over wine. One of them clocked his gaze and sniffed haughtily, and Artemis respectfully held back a sneer before purposefully turning his attention to the other side of the room.

That was when he saw her.

She was a slim woman. Elegant, dressed in a dark blue evening gown that was the definition of tasteful yet alluring. Her facial features stood out to him among the many other women he’d seen at the party that night. Her cheekbones were high and pronounced; her nose could not be described as petite, but he realized that it was attractive in its own right. Artemis wished he could make out the color of her eyes. Were they green? Brown? Hazel? The light made it impossible to tell from where he currently sat.

A delicate gold chain fell around her neck and into the dip of her pronounced collarbone. Her bare arms were thin, but toned, and Artemis’ gaze followed from her shoulders down to her strong wrists and long fingers that made him wonder if she played piano. The rest of her body was obscured by the table she sat at, so he allowed himself to look back up at her face, and her hair.

Heaven, he thought. Her hair.

Her hair color danced along the fine line between blonde and brunette, and in an unexpected moment of primal lust, Artemis imagined those silky tresses curtaining his face as he nipped at the soft skin of her neck. He imagined those toned arms wrapped around his torso, her long, thin fingers trailing up and down his back before running through his hair as he worked his own hands down, down, down...

The young heir ashed his cigarette over the crystal ashtray and looked away, discretely flexing his thighs under the table and praying that nobody near him would notice the flush he felt blooming on his pale face.

“Are you feeling well, Artemis?”

Artemis silently cursed his stepmother as his father turned his dull grey eyes over to him.

“Perfectly fine, Margaret. A bit warm, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” hummed Aodh Fowl, “Is that all?”

Artemis clenched his jaw. It was a habitual response to stress and anxiety that was (and forever would be) the ruin of many a night-guard. He knew when his father was purposefully pushing his buttons. He sometimes wondered if the old man considered it friendly.

“Yes, sir. Please excuse me.”

Artemis had decided retreat was his best option to avoid further stress. It would do no good to be poked and prodded into losing his temper at such a crowded event. He continued to excuse himself through the crowd of aristocrats and socialites idly chatting over champagne and cigarettes. He knew without seeing that his bodyguard was following him. Reaching the bar, he requested glass of water and tried to calm his nerves.

Looking throughout the crowd, he saw her again, this time no longer seated. An angel, he thought, as she gracefully wove her way towards the bar. A rare feeling of panic pooled in his stomach. He immediately wished his water was scotch, or even a glass of wine. Anything to somewhat quell the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him.

Too late, he thought, as he realized that not only was she headed towards the bar, she was headed towards him. And soon enough, she was before him. Like a man suddenly face to face with a growling tiger, he dared not move.

“May I ask your name?”

Her voice was soft, silky. He immediately wanted to hear it again.

“Of course.” he responded, praying to gods that he did not really believe in that his voice would remain steady. Now that she stood directly before him, her beauty threatened to swallow him whole and spit out his bones. He resisted the overwhelming urge to take in the entirety of her figure. His mother would have pinched him if he had behaved so poorly, and even in her absence he feared that pinch of disapproval, almost as much as he had feared his father’s hands before age and illness took their toll.

“My name is Artemis.”

“That’s an interesting name.” She smiled, and Artemis felt his heart catch fire in his chest.

“What is your name?” he asked, realizing he had never cared more in his life for an answer.

“Angeline.”

Angeline. Angeline. It was perfect. It was deserved! An angel on earth, a beautiful creature from the heavens whose presence and beauty struck fear into his mortal soul.

“It suits you well,” he swallowed, deciding to take a bold risk. Her smile widened, and triumph fed the flame in his heart. It threatened to consume him, to burn him thoroughly inside and out. And it was wonderful! God, it was wonderful. In the twenty-four years of his affection-starved life he had never wanted for anything more than this woman to look at him warmly.

“Your last name is ‘Fowl’, isn’t it?” she asked. She looked him over, before settling back on his strikingly bright eyes. She snorted, and somehow managed to do so delicately.

“That suits you very well.”

Her smile vanished, and instantly the flame in his heart was extinguished. What was left was only a brittle, burnt lump that was crumbled into ash in her elegant hands.

“I’ve heard all about your family,” she continued, ignoring his desperate glacier blue eyes as he silently begged forgiveness from the angel he’d just met. “And I saw you staring earlier. So I want to be very clear. Keep your eyes to yourself.”

And then she was gone, weaving gracefully back through the crowd towards her table.

Despite the crowded room, Artemis felt completely alone.

---

Artemis did not speak to anyone else for the rest of the night. Even his father, who normally didn’t care about his son’s emotional state, seemed to know better than to ask about his silence. When the family returned to Ireland, he immediately immersed himself in the ever-increasing workload his ailing father left up to him, resolving to forget the angel that destroyed the hope he had foolishly allowed himself that night. And he almost did, until nearly a year later, when he saw her once again.

---

This is the end of Part One! I give no promise as to when Part Two will be finished and posted. I have an important surgery coming up very soon and I have no clue how much I feel up to writing anything. Thank you for reading.

[theoriginalladya]

Sunday Snippet

From one of my AU projects for Caleb Shepard...

Setting: present day (2021) Ireland

~~~

Brigit leads him along a winding path of her own making as they approach the circle, but she stops with some ten feet to go. Leaning against his shoulder, she murmurs words in a language Kaidan doesn’t understand, then straightens and tugs her shawl closer around her. Stepping away from him, she gestures towards the entrance. “This is your duty, not mine,” she tells him quietly. “This is why you have come.”

That startles Kaidan, and for a moment he forgets to breathe. The urn in his arms is suddenly an overbearing weight. “But… he’s your son!”

A warm smile curves across her lips and shines brightly from green eyes framed in red-gold fire shot with silver threads. Lifting a hand, she cradles his cheek, a gentle caress of warmth and comfort. “And you are his chosen, lad. My hold on him lasted only ‘til then.”

His chosen? His gaze flickers between her and the stone arch. From what little he can see beyond the opening, open grass and the stones that form the circle await him. Strangely, it doesn’t seem as bright in there as out here. “W-what do you…?”

“Is tú mo rogha…”

The whispered words reach his ears and Kaidan freezes as recognition comes with them.

“Did he never tell you?”

As his gaze drifts towards the open sea where a gull floats gently in the breeze above, he nods slowly. “He did once… at the end,” he chokes out, voice raw with emotion. “I… never knew what it meant.”

Brigit’s smile softens. Leaning towards him, she presses her lips to his forehead in a manner like his mother would do when he was young. She gestures towards the archway to the circle. “Help him find peace, Kaidan, and all the rest will become clear.” She backs up a step, then another while drawing her shawl more tightly around her shoulders to protect from the wind. When still he hesitates, she adds, “You will not come to harm, I promise, but you will find the answers you seek.”

Kaidan’s gaze drops to the urn in his hands. Answers… but to what questions? Still, he’d made a promise and he was a man of his word, even if it took him a while to make it happen. A snuffling woof to his left has him hesitating again. Brigit chuckles. “Loco and I will wait for you here.”

The hound tilts his head to one side as he moves to sit at her feet. It’s as much of an agreement as he can expect, so Kaidan takes one last deep breath before turning toward the archway.

[mandoalorian]

Fairytale with Pero Tovar

DAY THREE: Fairytale with Pero Tovar [Requested by @honeymandos]

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added!)

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal

December Writing Challenge: @mandos-blaster @silent-and-resigned @valentinasubmarina

December Writing Challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Warnings: mention of arranged marriage and brief allusions to sex. Might it be a warning that I was exhausted when I wrote this? Feels like that should be a warning.

Word count: 2k

Rating: PG

Pero Tovar was unlike any other man you had ever met. His eyes were a deep shade of brown, but hidden beneath the colour was enigma and mystery. When he returned from the crusade, your father, the King, praised him. To have appraisal from the king is every little boy’s dream— but Tovar stood there, scowling, unfazed. When your father knighted Tovar for his efforts, he didn't speak a single word. Whilst most fresh knights of the realm would typically offer a speech of gratitude; Tovar simply nodded and sauntered off. You didn't see him again until that evening.

Tovar was on his third cup of ale, sitting alone at the bar. The palace’s main hall was lit up with an abundance of candles, golden flames illuminating the spacious room. There must have been hundreds of people sharing his company. The laughter, the dancing, the music… Tovar despised it all. That was until you slid into the empty stool next to him.

You had been watching him all day, intrigued by his misery and his demeanor. He didn't speak to anyone; even when spoken too, he merely offered them just an utter of a few words. You wondered if he would speak to you, the princess and future queen of the kingdom. You waited for him to make the first move, in hope he'd initiate conversation, but he didn't even do as much to look at you.

"Lovely evening," you greeted the Knight. "Wouldn't you agree?" Tovar grunted and took another sip of ale. You noticed that he must've been heavy handed, because when he put the cup back on the bar, little bits of the amber liquid splashed out, dripping down his hand and pooling around the coaster. Like an animal, he licked the sticky ale from his skin. "Your bravery is very much appreciated by the kingdom," you sighed, placing your elbow on the bar and cupping your cheek. He finally turned to look at you. "Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?"

"I don't dance." Pero spat. Ah, your first words out of him. His voice was gruff, but not angry. He didn't look angry. You did struggle to weigh up his facial expressions. He didn't look happy to be at the Christmas ball, which confused you. He should be happy to be here.

"Not even with a princess?" you smiled, fluttering your eyelashes in the direction of the attractive mercenary.

"Especially not with a princess." He replied, gulping down another mouthful of ale. "You don't want to be seen with a man like me."

Pero felt shame. You were a princess, and by far the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. But he was nothing but a peasant boy compared to you. That didn't change the fact he wanted to pick you up and pin you against the wall, kiss down your neck, and revoke every ounce of your purity. Those were just his thoughts. It was pointless to even consider acting upon them. Not with a princess.

"That's the thing…" you said, looking down at your knees and biting on your lower lip. "All my life I've been sheltered from men like you."

"And for good reason." Pero turned back to the bar and gestured for the barmaid to come over. He reached into his pocket and hurdled a handful of coins to pay for the next glass of ale he was ordering.

"Do you ever just want to run away?" you sighed, leaning close to Tovar. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. You regretted the words instantaneously, as soon as they left your lips. He was a mercenary— constantly on the run from town to town. It was a stupid question.

"You want to run away?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow. Now you had peaked his curiosity.

"I do," you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat up at the thought of disobeying your father. "My whole life I've craved for something more than this. This is my last Christmas as a free maiden, for next Summer, my father plans to marry me off to Prince William of Ireland."

"And you don't want to marry a prince? You are royalty. You do not want to give that up." Pero huffed, looking irritated that you had made such a suggestion.

"You don't get it. Everyone thinks I have a perfect life," you shook your head. "But I long for something more than this. I want to see the world— journey the seas. Ride my horse without having an army follow. I want to fall in love, Pero. Don't you?"

Pero paused. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked, a gleam in his dark brown eyes.

You took a deep breath. "I wish for you to help me escape the palace."

And for the first time, Tovar laughed. You stared at him, blinking a few times in bewilderment. "Oh, you're serious? With all due respect, your worshipfulness, I will not disobey the king like that. He will have me hanged."

"The brave Pero Tovar who was just knighted by my father is… scared?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Not scared. It's just a foolish idea." Pero sighed, running his fingers through his short and messy hair.

"Very well then," You clasped your hands together and stood up, courtesying to the scowling man who sat before you. He grunted and took a swing of his ale. "A pleasure to meet you. Venture safe." You told him before pondering off.

Tovar was your first choice. There was something about his rugged yet handsome looks which you craved so bad. He was different to everyone else. Different to all the other men who graced the ballroom that night. The princes, sires and knights who had come from all across the land wore the best garments and tights; whereas Tovar doted a ripped tunic which looked like it was at least a few years old. The other knights would ride their horses into battle and surrender, but Tovar was a true warrior. You could tell from the scar across his eye, his pessimism; like he had seen too much. He made all other men look like imposters.

But you had to escape the walls of the castle, and if Tovar wasn't willing to help you, so be it. You scouted the room for another potential man who you could trust to carry you away from this life on his noble steed. Your dress trapesing around your ankles as you padded towards another man, of Roman descent, who had recently been knighted by your father. Unlike Tovar, his armour was pristine and a blinding silver. He wore a vibrant red tunic and gold boots, and even brought his Roman helmet to the Christmas ball.

"I like your helmet," you smiled, placing a hand on your hip as you reached up and felt the feathers sticking out the top. "What's your name, fine gentleman?"

"Julius." he replied, putting down his goblet of red wine and offering you a small bow. "I was not expected to share the company of her highness tonight, I must admit."

"Julius, as the future queen of the kingdom I have a request for you, but you must listen carefully." You told the Roman, avoiding his precious attempt of a flirtation. Before you could reply, you felt a large hand grab the curve of your shoulder.

Spinning around on your heel, you were greeted by Tovar. He had been watching you from his seat at the bar, scowling miserably when he saw you were speaking to another man. Tovar was wise enough to know you shouldn't trust any of the men in the ballroom tonight. When he bolted over to you, he had hoped you hadn't already revealed your plot to abandon your position as princess of the kingdom.

"Ah, Pero, this is Julius." You smiled politely, introducing the two knights to one another. You were a little taken aback, not expecting Pero to even look twice in your direction, nevermind come over and see you. "Pero, I was just speaking to Julius about an urgent matter. Now if you excuse me-"

Tovar's grip on you tightened and you felt a rush of heat flood your body under his touch. He looked up at Julius. "M’lady offered me a dance," Tovar explained before looking back down at you. "And I'd like to take you up on that request."

You gulped, unsure where he was going with this. You supposed you could spare a few moments to dance with the handsome knight.

"And as you heard, Pero, her royal majesty has an urgent matter to discuss with me." Snarled Julius, earning a death glare from Pero.

"That's okay Julius, I wish to dance with Knight Tovar." You told the Roman Knight. Tovar smirked and took your hand, interlocking his rough and calloused fingers with yours. He dragged you to the centre of the dance floor, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in close.

"I don't dance." he started as you briskly began to guide him, swaying your hips to the bard’s music.

"Tovar, why did you interrupt my conversation with Julius?" you questioned him with genuine confusion. Tovar sighed, looking around to make sure no one was paying any attention.

"I will help you escape the palace," he leaned into you and whispered into your ear. You smiled eagerly at him and he felt his heart soften when you saw the way your eyes sparkled with excitement. "When do you want to do this? When is the best time for you?"

You dropped a hand to his chest and bit your lip, leaning in close. "Now would be perfect." you hummed and he knotted his eyebrows together.

"Now?" he quizzed, feeling a little weary.

"Everyone is distracted with the Christmas ball. If we slipped out now, I don't think anyone will notice we've gone."

Pero contemplated your words but he agreed that you poised a valid point. He sighed and looked around once more. "My horse is outside. Grab a cloak from your quarters and hurry. I will meet you by the back entrance of the palace gardens in five minutes."

You nodded your head and let go of Tovar. You looked at him and smiled, pressing a kiss into his cheek. His dark stubble grazed your lips and when you pulled away, you spotted a fluster of redness blush his cheeks. "Thank you." you whispered, before sneaking out of the ballroom.

Tovar waited about two minutes, to avoid suspicion, and headed to the bar to finish his cup of ale. He did not expect to spend his Christmas Eve helping a princess escape the confines of her own kingdom. He took a moment to process what exactly was happening and tried to form a plan. Where was he going to take you? He was a mercenary, constantly on the run. No matter how much he wanted, you couldn't stay with him. You'd be in danger. What about when he had to flee into battle and slay dragons? Where would you stay? He figured it was a conversation to have with you when you had successfully escaped the kingdom.

Tovar wanted you to stick by his side because you were, simply put, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen before. Sparkling eyes and the most beautiful smile. When you were on the ballroom floor speaking to Julius, he couldn't help but admire your body and the way your dress hung off your shoulders. He was obsessed with the ribbon that laced up your front, thinking of how easy it would be to just pull it out and undress you.

Your flirtations hadn't gone unnoticed by Tovar. He could see straight through you. But, you were a princess. It would be beyond foolish to assume he could forward the same advances to you. That didn't change the fact he wanted to pin you against a wall and bite down on your skin until you were screaming his name.

With caution, Pero slipped out of the ballroom, certain he was unseen and quietly jogged outside to his horse. The thick white December snow crunched under his boots as he comforted his shivering steed. "It's okay sweetheart," he whispered, running his fingers through his horse's hair. "I know, I know it's cold. But we'll get outta here very soon." he promised his companions before hopping up and straddling the animal.

He heard you padding towards him, your breath shaky in the cold air. He turned to face you, completely mesmerised at the way the little snowflakes balanced in your hair. You really were an angel. He grabbed your hand and helped you onto his horse. "Put your hood up," he ordered you, to which you obliged. "and wrap your arms around my waist. It's going to be a long ride." Tovar warned.

You shuffled closer to him and wrapped your body around his, already liking the familiar warmth he radiated. "You are the bravest man I have ever met." you admitted, your fingers curling in the hairs on the back of his head.

"Nonsense." he cursed you.

"I mean it." you smiled. "Thank you, my brave knight. When we stop for the night, I wish to show you my gratitude through a kiss."

Pero felt his muscles tense up at the prospect. Now he had to get you out of the kingdom alive. "There will be no mistletoe where we stay, your highness," he frowned, preparing the horse for the journey.

"I don't need mistletoe to kiss you, Tovar," you giggled.

"No?" he asked.

"No," you confirmed. "I have love on my side."

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Her Majesty. || 17

All For You.

A few months later

April

I walk the gardens, appreciating the crisp air and the morning fog, accompanied by the grounds’ quietness. For the first time since my father passed, the grounds are quiet, no civilians are waiting and paying their respects, the flowers have gradually decreased, and the palace is relatively untroubled— a little too quiet.

I haven’t seen Harry since he left my room at four this morning. Ever since Henry’s passing a few months ago, I haven’t seen much of Harry during the day. Harry has been pulled in one-hundred different directions and forced to balance everything.

He is handling things better than I ever could have. The Henry situation would have tipped me over the edge. Harry has been the one to deal with Pippa. She hasn’t had much to do with me; she seems to avoid me for the most part. I’m not sure why she would instead work with Harry, but she appears to be a fan of him.

Madeleine and Louis have stayed at the Palace, staying under the radar and staying out of the public eye. It’s probably the best option for now. I haven’t observed much of Madeleine; she has spent most of her time with Louis and walking the grounds, and finding various places to read and write quietly. Madeleine has always been the type to keep a journal, and when she gets stressed, she writes her thoughts down. I, on the other hand, let the ideas run wild until I break down and snap.

“Her Majesty?” Oliver breaks the silence.

“It’s Anna, Oliver,” I correct him.

Oliver nods his head. “Uh, sorry,” he nervously chuckles, “Are you ready to head inside?”

I nod my head, “I guess you and Harry don’t let me stay out long, huh?”

“It’s just protocol not to stay too long out here just because of how open it is, especially with people coming and going.”

“I know,” I sigh, understanding the reasoning behind things.

I’m hoping that come summertime. The restrictions won’t be as stringent. It would be delightful to be able to roam the gardens or sit outside with disturbances. If we were to move palaces, I would be able to have more freedom, but for right now, I don’t think Matthew will agree to travel, although I plan to ask Harry. A change of scenery would be nice, even if it’s to go to Kensington or the Palace of Holyroodhouse in Scotland, any of the crown estates would be pleasant.

A small smile forms on my lips the moment I recognise Harry marching closer to us, “Good morning,” I welcome him cheerfully, delighted to see him.

Harry kisses my cheek, “Morning… Did you give Pippa permission to announce our relationship to the staff?” Harry questions, his voice deep and far from impressed.

I shake my head, unsure of what he’s talking about, “No?”

“Well, she took it upon herself to announce things on our behalf. Since when does she have any say on what the fuck happens at the palace?” Harry’s voice sounds like bottled thunder, and his eyes are dark with fury.

“Harry, I do not know… She doesn’t, and she has no say at the Palace… When did this happen?”

“Just now, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to go strangle her,” Harry mutters, shoving his phone into his pocket before I grab his wrist and pull him back towards me.

“Calm down.”

Harry shakes his head, “I’ve had enough of her shit.”

“Harry, we had to tell them anyway. Let me handle this. Go back to the security room.”

Harry becomes speechless for a moment and takes a breath, “It wasn’t her business to tell. She doesn’t know if the staff will release it to the press. The press is always writing articles about us. One minute you’re dating Louis in the media, and the next minute you’re having an affair on him with me. I’ve had it.”

“You sound like you’re having a shitty morning. Just relax.”

“I am having a shit morning. I have shit to do. I love you,” Harry mutters, kissing my cheek before hurrying off.

“Pippa is about to get an earful,” I sigh, watching as Harry walks towards the palace. Oliver hums his response and continues to unobtrusively walk beside me, not giving me any queries, genuinely allowing me to wander the grounds at ease.

I am not sure who killed Henry, nor am I sure when the next attack will be or on whom it’ll be, but I do know that at some point, this will end. I can't point fingers on who’s to blame, and I wish I could. I wish I could say it’s Pippa or the government, but truth be told, I don’t know specifically who it is, and I don’t have much proof. For all I know, it could be one member of the staff who is in control of it all, one of the maids could be the mastermind of all the plans and running a circle of mass chaos. At this point, I’m starting to wonder if Harry and Matthew will ever figure it out, they’re not detectives, and all their leads seem to fail them, as do my own. I haven’t heard anything from Harry about the list of names I gave him. I don’t think he believes that it is anyone that works at the palace.

“Are Matthew and Harry working on who has killed everyone?” I ask Oliver, curious as to how much information he knows.

“Yes, Princess… That is why Harry has been hard to find lately.”

“Have they found anything?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you. I’m sorry,” Oliver shakes his head. “Please don’t threaten my job,” Oliver quickly emphasises, referencing the morning I threatened his job if he didn’t allow me to go to the security chambers. In my defence, it was the morning of my fathers funeral, and I didn’t want to be alone.

I wanted the comfort of Harry, and Oliver was not comforting me the way I needed.

“I said I was sorry about that,” I grant him a soft smile, “I really just needed Harry, nothing personal.”

Oliver nods his head and chuckles, “I know, Harry told me, but I am not letting you live it down.”

“Go figure,” I roll my eyes before I chuckle to myself.

There are days where nobody can fix the void that you feel, and the morning I went on a rampage and threatened to fire Oliver if he didn’t take me to Harry was a morning where I just needed Harry. Nobody else would suffice.

“We need to go inside. It is time for you to get ready for your coronation.”

I stop in my tracks and look at Oliver, “You and I both know it isn’t mine.”

“Anastasia,” Oliver begins, “For what it is worth, you will make a great Queen.”

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, “I will not be crowned Queen. Pippa will not allow it,” I respond, dreading today.

I am not envious of Harry for him being crowned. I am somewhat delighted that he has to handle the mess of the monarchy. But, I am disappointed that the monarch is binding and controlling.

This wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself, nor is it the life I envisioned for Harry and me. I never thought the monarchy would control us to the extent it does. I knew it would have its ties, but I thought it would be imperceptibly more manageable. I never imagined my husband would take my crown and the problems that go with it. I applaud Harry for being capable of handling things with such strides. I don’t think I could— Hence why Pippa refuses to permit me to have the crown.

Harry’s pov.

As with all royal events, coronation day accompanies its own sets of rules and regulations. Westminster Abbey has been the environment for every Coronation since 1066, and today it will be no different. I succeeded to the Throne when Anastasia should have succeeded. She will be the first successor to have not succeeded as rightfully anticipated. What a strange read in history books this will be when the public finds out about it.

We were escorted from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Abbey in the Gold State Coach – drawn by eight grey horses, selected by Anastasia and myself. The public is anticipating a closed ceremony for Anastasia to become Queen. What they don’t know is the scandal behind it all and how they’re accepting a King.

Everything has been precisely placed and designated to accompany all coronation protocols for the day to be impeccable. The coronation Bouquet was made up of white flowers – comprising of orchids and lilies-of-the-valley from England, stephanotis from Scotland, orchids from Wales, and carnations from Northern Ireland and the Isle of Man. Every little detail is intricated for a specific reason. It has meaning— all of which I do not understand, but I am sure Anastasia knows the reasoning behind every painstaking detail. The only thing that is not a part of the royal queue is Anastaisa’s dress. On coronation day, most Queens wear neutral colours for a coronation. Anastasia, however, came down the stairs in red. She looked beautiful, but her attire was not what was expected of a royal. Buckingham Palace housemaids, chefs and gardeners gathered inside the Grand Hall at Buckingham Palace to see Anastasia. 129 nations and territories will be officially represented at the Coronation service, and I have been more concerned about Anastasia’s dress.

I smile at the members of parliament, eager to announce to them my first order as King. Pippa is intrigued and waiting for me to reveal what she had planned. She told me what my first executive order should be. To her disappointment, I’m about to cause her whole world to crumble.

I clear my throat and take my position, “As reigning King, my first executive order to be signed will be reinstating Anastasia’s title. Anastasia will, as a result of this be titled, Queen. She will be the reigning monarch,” I instruct, watching Pippa’s eyes grow wide and parliament members’ jaws drop at my words. I wander towards Anastasia and her mother, who is trying to conceal her smile. Her mother nods her head towards me, granting me her approval.

“Harry, what are you doing?” Anna softly challenges me as I take off the St. Edward's Crown and place it to rest on her head. This is rightfully hers.

I delicately take off the purple robe of estate before I move to place it over her shoulders, “I believe these belong to you, my darling,” I beam at her, honoured to be the one to crown her. I kiss her forehead before taking my place beside her, “I give you, your Queen.” I place my hands behind my back, watching as an undivided room of officials gazes at me in utter silence.

There’s absolutely nothing they can do— I played the monarchy and successfully so.

The Archbishop standing before us who administered the Coronation Oath to me, steps forward with a smile, handing Anastasia the same bible I was delivered, “Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, the Union of South Africa, Pakistan, and Ceylon, and of your Possessions and the other Territories to any of them belonging or pertaining, according to their respective laws and customs?”

Anastasia takes my hand and arranges it on the bible before placing her hand over mine, “We solemnly promise to do so.”

Anastasia continues her oath to the bitter disappointment of Pippa. I accompany Anna to the alter before stepping back, enabling her to independently take the Bible’s oath. “The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep. So help me, God.” Anastasia speaks the oath's last words, and I take a glance at her mother, who winks at me. I nod my head— our duty is fulfilled.

The Queen, having thus taken her Oath, smiles over at me before I return her to her Chair, and the Bible is handled by one of the martials to be surrendered to the Dean of Westminster.

Anastasia turns to the parliament members, “Members of both Houses of Parliament are required by law to take an oath of allegiance to the Crown. I require you to do so formally… Pippa, you’re first.” Anastasia takes me by surprise when she halts the coronation to force the parliamentary oath.

Pippa leisurely steps forward and Anastasia stands to her feet, “What are you doing?” Pippa whispers, not charmed that we have transformed the entire plan.

Anastasia sincerely smiles and gestures for the archbishop to walk closer. “Swear her in,” Anastasia commands, and the man does as he is told. He holds the Bible out and proceeds to request Pippa’s hand. “Say the oath,” Anastasia presses.

“I, Philippa Louise Westbrooke, swear by Almighty God that I will be faithful,” Pippa trails off with a stutter before she clears her throat and composes herself. “And bear true allegiance to Her Majesty, Queen, Anastasia, according to law. So help me, God.”

Anastasia shakes her head, “And bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Anastasia, her heirs, husband and successors. So help me, God,” Anastasia changes the oath, adding the fact that Pippa is swearing under oath to be faithful not just to Anna as Queen but to our children and future successors.

I’m just as astonished as everyone else. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Anastasia has been planning this.

Pippa swallows hard and glances towards me for a saving grace— I view Anna with a first-class smile alternately. “And bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Anastasia, her heirs, husband, and successors, according to law. So help me, God,” Pippa repeats the oath.

“You may take your seat now. We can get back to the coronation now,” Anastasia views everyone else.

“Do you have any other requests or announcements?” The archbishop questions, appearing intrigued and finding the coronation humerus. I don’t believe he thought this day would go as it has— I don’t think anyone did. Madeleine Noelle Veil even appears to be somewhat bewildered.

Anastasia nods her head, “If there is to be an intermittent King or Queen, the spouse of royal blood can rule on the conditions the royal spouse is unfit or unwell, but only the royal blood can make the decision on the stand-in ruler. While I reign, Harry can sign on my behalf if only I give him consent— We rule the monarch— not parliament. Do you need that in writing?” Anastasia questions, causing my eyes to grow wide. I had no clue that giving her an inch of power would turn out to become this. “May I sign the declaration after?”

“That would be best,” George, one of the members of parliament, speaks up, the same man who declared that Henry was the new King once Anna’s father passed. The Coronation ring, known as 'The Wedding Ring of England', makes an appearance, slowly becoming placed on The Queen's fourth finger of her right hand following tradition.

I’m not sure what Anastasia’s plans are for the nefarious parliament members, but something tells me that she has some sort of devised method to execute her dynamism and shift them out of office. I am not sure if she can overthrow Parliament as she wanted to destroy the monarch and abolish it, but I feel she will try. Anastasia will be one charismatic woman, and I would hate to be the one that has stepped on her toes. She is coming into her power a lot quicker and with more intensity than I ever imagined. I am not sure what changed in her, but she went from the grieving woman who couldn’t get herself out of bed to the woman who is about to govern the monarch with an iron fist.

*** ***

The day has been long and eventful. The return route was designed so that the procession could be seen by as many people in London as possible. The 7.2 km route took us two hours to complete. I’m exhausted, and I know Anastasia is, but she’s currently wound up on adrenaline and awe. Anastasia stepped into her power today, and she has been humble about it all, but I can see the twinkle of excitement in her eye.

She has won. We have won.

Although we have won this small battle, we have more to go through, and as much as Anastasia is thankful for taking control, I can tell she’s anxious and unsure of how or what to do. Anastasia has self-doubt, and she made the obvious on the car ride to the palace when she asked me if she would make a good Queen. She wanted assurance that this is the best decision for the monarch and her. Nothing I do or say will convince her that this is one-hundred percent a good idea. She will always have doubts. After all, look at the people who have pushed her down and doubted her. For months she has been told she is unfit to rule and doesn’t deserve her fathers legacy, she has been beaten down to the point I wasn’t sure she’d manage to get back up, but she has.

“Anna, darling,” I gesture for her to walk closer to me. At first, she’s hesitant, unsure of what I want, but begins to step closer with gleaming eyes and that winsome smile of hers, “This… this is what you need to remember any time you have doubts about being Queen,” I instruct before I shift to open the glass windows, enabling the crisp air to flow into the room, along with the sweetness of her people cheering, “God save the Queen,” applauding her coronation. “Parliament might want to see you fail, but the people don’t. This is all for you; they believe in you, you better bloody believe in yourself, too.” I show Anastasia the stance she has and how she has the backing and endorsement of her people.

Anastasia grins and nods her head, “Would the King join me to express my gratitude?” Anastasia questions, taking my hand and beginning to wander to the large glass doors with the gold trim that only opens on exceptional occurrences. Anastasia stands at the doors, and I reach towards the handles, pushing down on them before gingerly opening the doors that lead to the balcony. Anastasia takes a breath and peers at me, “It’s my pleasure to greet the people as Queen formally, even more so do it with you as King, will you?” Anastasia signals towards the balcony that overlooks the people below. I swallow hard and stare at her, unsure of what to do.

If I step on the balcony with her, that’s it. That’s the end of our secrecy; our relationship will be in the public eye. “Anna, there’s no going back if I do this.”

“I know… but if you don’t want to—“

“Baby, that’s not what I mean,” I shake my head, “This announces us as well as a couple.”

Anastasia nods her head, “I know, it’s what we want, right? To no longer hide?”

I grow withdrawn for a minute. We are finally getting what we want, and somehow I’m still nervous and fearful—going public concerns me for various reasons. We aren’t just dodging the bullets of parliament. We will now be avoiding the people’s bullets if they disapprove of me. I’m still nothing but a simple man who fell in love with a woman with a royal title. No matter what has transpired or what will follow, I will never be royal. I may honour the title dubbed upon me, but my blood is not royal. I’m a commoner.

I kiss her forehead before taking a step back, “After you, Queen,” I smile, motioning for her to step out on the balcony and address her supporters. Anastasia steps out wearing the Imperial State Crown and the Royal Robes to greet the cheering crowds. I move behind her, in awe at how the people applaud her the moment she is regarded. I do not doubt in my mind that Anna is going to go down in history as an astonishing Queen.

Anastasia glances over her shoulder, and I step closer to her, placing my arm around her as she does an honorary wave, “Your Dad always said that you could tell a lot by the way a royal greets their people— But I think you can tell a lot by the way the people greets the royal,” I comment, still in awe at how welcoming and pleasant the crowd is towards Anastasia. I have never witnessed such an event. They love her, absolutely love and adore her. They approve of her reign, and I think that’s something Anna didn’t realise would occur. Although Parliament is against her, the people are living proof of where true loyalty and power lies.

“You can tell a lot by the person standing next to the reigning ruler,” Anastasia answers, leaning up to kiss my cheek, sealing our fate of publicly expressing our relationship. “I love you, Harry. I love you today, and I’ll love you tomorrow and the day after. The monarch, the people and parliament do not define that. They do not control us– we reign,” Anastasia informs me, “As quickly as we have gained this monarch, I’ll gladly give it up in a heartbeat for you. You once asked me to surrender the crown for us to be together, and I denied you… standing here, with the crown, I’ll happily give it up if you have second thoughts about this.”

Even at her highest moment where she should be proud of herself and what we have contrived to do, and even after how hard I fought to not only keep her crown but to hand it back to her strategically, she’ll still selflessly give it up for me. I shake my head, “This is your fathers legacy to live on. I don’t want you to surrender for me.”

Anastasia does not know, but I have fought Pippa for weeks to let Anna take her crown back. I have contended and pleaded until I broke and spoke to Anastasia’s mother, where we devised the plan to double-cross Pippa. I allowed Pippa to believe I would support her dream and take the crown officially today; I allowed her to think that I recognised that Anastasia was unfit to rule and that it should be left to me. I kept the crown and what the King worked for safe. I protected the palace against the media and spread of false rumours, I defended the castle from the backlash of Victoria and Henry’s murders— I worked diligently to be able to give Anastasia her rightful crown— I worked hard to provide her with the right to choose to do as she wishes with the monarch. I will stand by her with whatever decision she executes if she rules; I will stand by Anna and proudly watch her govern the country. If she abolishes, I will stand beside Anna and hold her as she makes the hardest decision of her life. If she chooses to overthrow parliament, I will stand beside Anastasia and grin as she takes back the control they have taken from her family. I will honour Anastasia as my wife, and I will protect her as her husband and security detail. Still, most importantly, I will love her no matter what decision she chooses to make regarding the crown.

The crown has broken her, but it has also made her who she is. It has challenged her to no ends, but she has perpetually come out on top. She’s a fighter and doesn’t back down from a fight, and I don’t think she’s going to back down from the monarchy now.

“I love you,” Anastasia breathes out.

“I love you, too,” I respond, straightening her crown that has fallen a little too forward. No matter what occurs in this life of ours, I will always be here to adjust her crown, literally and metaphorically.

Anastasia presents the people one last wave before she turns on the 'Lights of London'. Lights cascade down the Mall, kindling the tremendous cypher on Admiralty Arch and transforming the fountains in Trafalgar Square into flowing silver until all the floodlights from the National Gallery to the Tower of London have been enkindled.

The lights illuminate, as does her reign. Anastasia wanders inside, and I follow her, relieved to support the people on our side. Parliament and the monarchy’s dictates may disagree with our marriage. Some of the staff may not even agree, but possessing the people’s blessing makes things a bit more permissive.

I close the doors behind us and concede the sheer curtains to slide across so the people cannot see in. As this may be the closing of a chapter, it’s just the beginning for us and our story.

[earsense]

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[whitechocolate]

top 5 hot drinks orders?

top 5 piece of jewellery?

top 5 karaoke tracks?

top 5 dream holiday destinations?

top 5 hot drink orders:

- chai tea with almond milk

- decaf soy latte

- chamomile tea

- green tea

- hot chocolate 😃

—

top 5 pieces of jewelry:

- ana luisa boa earrings

- chanel crystal pearl drop earrings (2017)

- mejuri sculptural hoops

- effy sapphire and diamond evil eye ring

- effy rose gold evil eye ring

top 5 karaoke:

• and i am telling you - jennifer hudson’s version from dream girls

WHEW! i really give this song my ALL….

• it’s not right but it’s okay (thunderpuss remix) - whitney houston

• yoü and i - lady gaga

• sex with me - rihanna

• break your heart right back - ariana grande

top 5 dream holiday destinations:

- dublin, ireland

- aspen, colorado

- zurich, switzerland

- monte carlo

- vancouver, canada :’))))

[misskittysmagicportal]

All You’ve Got Is Gold Part 1

FandomAU!: Billy Delaney/Cormac McNamara x Female OC

Warnings: Slight NSFW, mostly steamy fluff.  Guys this ended up being long as fuck.  And it’s really only chapter one. Or Part 1.

Jeanie leaned over the bar at Ewan's to pour herself another whiskey, ignoring the bartender as he chastised her. "C'mon lass, don't the wee ones file in to the grounds tomorrow?"

"Wee?" she gulped around her swallow. "Ewan, they're pubescent. You know me though, I like to have a bit of a glow every new semester. That way the parents think I'm truly invested in the well-being of the brats." Jean waved her glass around in the air. "Ok, not brats. Most of them are well-behaved and genuinely interested in learning. Not like the little bastards in America. I'd have 40 to a classroom back there. Saint Fergus barely has 40 students in the entire school."

Ewan took it as a sign and gave her a generous pour one more time, "Heard you cannae keep any professors for the pay. But your husband-"

"EX. As of last spring," Jean corrected.

"EX-husband found some new blood in a few of his University students."

"Aye," Jeanie imitated the Scottish brogue with perfection. "They're all in the corner over there with Dr Purves now."

She had half a decade to assimilate to the culture of the small, boring town just outside of Aberdeen where she followed Gordon and married him without any family or a job. He became head of the Physics and STEM department at the University of Aberdeen, working on projects and female students alike. Jeanie, having abandoned her Master's in Education, was really only qualified to student-teach at a local boarding school. Before long, lack of interest and the economy drove the numbers down to four or five dozen and a position of Headmistress open. At least it was a place to live and an existence that kept her mind off everything else.

"I would say don't look now, because here comes one of his students, but my darling who can keep their eyes off him." Ewan pointed behind his friend with damn near literal hearts in his eyes.

Jeanie glanced over her shoulder as a young man, early 20s? She couldn't tell. But he approached her at the bar. Her first glance became a double, and nearly a stare. Embarrassed, she whipped her head around quickly and blushed in Ewan's general direction. "Sweet Virgin Mary," she exhaled under her breath.

"I normally go by Delaney, but I suppose in certain company Mary will do," a soft Irish lilt.

Jean slow blinked as the bartender broke into a cheshire grin. She took a deep breath and turned towards the man now beside her and held out her hand. Blood pulsing in her ears because.. he was stunning. "Brave of a Celt to set foot in the land of Picts. Even braver for him to be in the presence of the biggest asshole in all of Scotland."

"Well from what I've heard she's more of an Ice Queen than an asshole," he squinted before smiling brightly. Green eyes sparkling in the low light of the bar. "Your.. partner put me up to it anyways. You know, say the bit about the ice. Sorry," he blushed but still held on to her hand firmly. "I've heard you're rather pleasant from the others. Just aloof as it were"

"EX!" Ewan and Jean exclaimed together, and the young man blinked responsively. "No sorries. Cold-hearted bitch is what some of the 6th years call me when I confiscate their illegals. Headmistress Jean Turner, but the two friends I have call me Jeanie. Drink?"

"Just one? I'll take 5. I have to catch up with the others." He hooked a thumb at the group of obnoxious men groping the female students who hung off of them as if they were celebrities. Taking what he was offered, chugging it quickly and shuddering. "Billy. Delaney it is. Well occasionally."

Jeanie and Ewan watched as he basically pounded every shot placed in front of them. Squinting off and on, as if he was trying to adjust to the ambiance. "Is it hot? It's hot in here. God I hate people. Those people. I will never fit in with the misogynists and knobs who prefer rugby and football to actually learning about the world." He pulled at the collar of his sweater before taking it off and draping it over Jeanie's chair. He wore a striped tee shirt underneath "Sorry. Sorry. I've got my nose in tech and books and maths algorithms most days. I forget how to socialize, so I really just want to blend in with the norms."

"You.. are.. fit." Ewan sputtered.

Billy snapped back to attention, his mind having drifted off to the same group Jeanie's eyes kept staring at. "What?"

"He's saying you are fucking fit, mate" Jeanie gaped.

"My body? I'm not really certain about that. I'm rather spindly wouldn't you say?” he shrugged while his cheeks flushed profusely. "My arms? Is it my arms? I swim. Clears my head from all the clutter." He was rambling now.

Jeanie and Ewan started laughing. "Relax! we're taking the piss, love. Your every move is being scrutinized. Now why abouts did Dr Purves send you over here? Surely he has fucking with me on his mind. Not unusual, humiliation has always been the name of the game."

Billy made a gesture that resembled adjusting non-existent glasses. He immediately dropped his hand and pulled a tenner out of his pocket. "To melt the ice, Gordon said. He gave me ten quid to hit on you."

"One of his students. What a lovely parting gift. I guess you're worth the loss of the house and the car," Jeanie stood back slightly to properly size him up.

Billy bit the entirety of his bottom lip, furrowing his brows, "I reckon you're worth more than a tenner to sleep with."

Jeanie blinked a few times, head tilted to the side to make sure she heard correctly. "SEX?!" she laughed, unable to help herself. "I don't exactly know what all of this," she waved her hand down his body, "would be doing even in the vicinity of sleeping with this," pointing to her own.

Confusion came over his face, "Am I supposed to be.. Is there something wrong with you that I don't notice? I, I can be kind of oblivious to loads. I think, really, Gordon goaded me into coming over here for my benefit as much as his amusement. I don't have too much experience, but you seem quite lovely you know. Your hair is," brows furrowed again but in thought, "Nicely red in this lighting. Reminds me of my friend from Ireland. Hannah."

Jeanie pinched the bridge of her nose as Ewan audibly guffawed from beside her. "Saints preserve us," the Scotsman said between gasps for air. "Donnae if you are taking the piss now, bloke, or are you really this bad at pulling birds."

Billy grimaced, the entirety of his face beet red. "Honestly, I never make it this far. I guess they usually pull me and I let them?" He started to fan his face, "seriously,,how fucking hot do you keep this pub?" His forehead bent forward to rest on the metal and wood counter of the bar.

Ewan covered his mouth and ruffled the curly head in front of him. "What a wee babby, Dr Purves sent into the lion's den. You just drank half a bottle of my best whiskey and mortified yourself in front of my favorite woman in this whole country. Maybe you ought to drink some water and have a sit for a few. We'll give you something to take to the bell-end in the back."

Jeanie and Ewan's eyes met, and she bit back a smile before leaning over to wrap an arm around her husband's latest protege. "Oh Ewan, I don't think it should be only a story. Why not give the evil genius a bit of a show. Right now he can see Mr Delaney is headed towards a spectacular crash. Im embarrassed. Mr Delaney's embarrassed. You're without very expensive whiskey. Gordon will never let anyone live this down for the semester."

She put her mouth near Billy's ear, "Ten quid is worth SOMETHING. Don't you think? Just look at me." He obliged quicker than she expected. Emerald eyes gazed upwards at her while the heart banged wildly in her chest. "What comes next?"

"I reckon I ought to put my arm on your waist. Right?" his voice now low in her ear and a hand slipped around her hips to draw her as close as possible.

No further guidance was needed as the liquid courage kicked in. Billy stood up and took Jeanie's face in his large hands before he drew her into a rather passionate kiss. Hers instinctively buried in his hair, their tongues dancing as the thought he hustled her entered the back of her mind. How was it that just a few minutes ago he looked ready to vomit at the thought of trying to come on to anyone, not just her. Now he was kissing her like they were Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts. Jeanie’s back slightly arched as Billy dominated her personal space with his height, a hand dangerously on the curve of her backside.

Ewan held his own face, eyebrows lost in his bangs as he watched the two of them go at it for well, he lost time. Glancing up he noticed just about everyone else in the pub was watching too. Gordon positively green with envy and turning purple with anger. Ewan saw him lean to a colleague and mouth, "That wasn't the fucking deal."

"Job done you two," he cleared his throat and practically shouted to break them up.

Jeanie's mouth was cold as it kissed the air. Billy had stumbled backwards a bit, mouth turned down ever slightly in a whoops motion. He walked, swayed really and floated by every single patron, including the group of men he came in with earlier. Fingers pulled at his bottom lip before he passed a devilish grin over his shoulder in Gordon's direction.

Jeanie and Ewan gobsmacked, but pleasantly amused, looked at one another. Mischief in their eyes as Jeanie noticed Billy's sweater draped over the bar. "Mr Balderston, I think I have a grad student to visit this week. It seems Mr Delaney might need his sweater because the Scottish nights get awfully cold."

Orientation came and went, and the students seemed to settle in quicker than normal.  Quite possibly because this was the lowest attendance in the school’s 150 year history.  They had been in danger of shut down, but Jeanie was informed that first Monday by the Board of Directors that an anonymous group of donors had decided, against their wishes, to purchase the school.  Even if no students came back the following school year, or they were down to only 15 or 10 or 5, Saint Fergus would remain open for unknown reasons.  

To say she was relieved was an understatement for Jeanie.  Much needed repairs were being made, and someone had come to put together a state of the art security system.  Which really confused the faculty and dwindling staff.  Who would steal anything from this junk heap?  Even their books were falling apart.  Except they weren’t.  

By the end of the first week, the girls in their dormitories and in the hallways were abuzz with brand new Literature and Maths books.  They were suddenly interested in Oscar Wilde and Pythagoras.  Jeanie watched as three 4th years sat in the windowsill and audibly cracked open their copies of “The Happy Prince,” stars in their eyes.  

“Have you ever seen anyone as good looking as Dr McNamara?  Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll pay attention to anything else but that voice,” she held her book against her chest.

“Oh c’mon Siobhan.  It’s all about the eyes.  I don’t think I’ve seen anything like them.  Proper green.  If he sticks around, I’ll tell Daddy to talk to all of his barrister friends. Get them to enroll their kids here next year.” 

The third girl was clearly in a daydream out the window, “All I heard today was blah blah blah ‘important in oratory history of Ireland’ blah blah.  Lemme tell you, he can give me an oral exam any day.”

Jeanie cleared her throat and the students jumped nearly a mile high.  “It would do you girls a kindness not to sexually harass our newest teacher at Saint Fergus.”  The smallest hint of a smile on her lips.  “Honestly, how is it that I'm headmistress here and have no bloody clue who this mysterious Dr McNamara is?”

“Well rumor has it, Miss, that he bought the school.  Dr Purves hired him for a project at the uni, and he asked to be right in the thick of the school.”  Siobhan shrugged.

“What do you mean?” 

“Oh he’s installing the security system and having a new science laboratory built,” the daydreaming girl chimed in.

“I thought it was a grad student that was teaching here this semester?  Have any of you heard the name Billy Delaney?  I’ve been looking for him the last week or so, but I can't find him in Aberdeen housing.  I’d like to return his sweater.”  Jeanie’s face flushed pink, and the girls all cast a knowing grin in her direction.

“Has Miss got a crush herself?” Siobhan teased.  “There’s no student teachers this year, but did you say Billy Delaney?”  

“Yes.  Does that name sound familiar to you too?”  

The girls stood and handed Jeanie paperback books one by one.  A stack of them, young adult novels that had grown incredibly popular the last few years.  A stone wall with a glowing green and gold light graced the cover.  “A Green Pool of Light: Emerald City to Oz  Book 1” blazed across the top in that standard stereotyped font that represented all things Irish.  The daydreaming girl, Aila Jeanie would come to find out, opened her copy and ran a finger down the page.  “Yeah, he’s like a gender bent Hermione in these books.” 

Jeanie frowned and flipped through the pages.  The girls all started to laugh, not mean-hearted but in the way kids do at adults when they become lost in the world of anyone under 20.  “That’s Dr McNamara, Miss Turner, and he’s living in the Boys Dorms.”

Jeanie blinked a few times, too many times in disbelief.  The girls dissolved into hysterics and headed off to their next set of classes.  Things maybe just got a bit easier but harder at the same time.

--------------------------------------

Jeanie stared incredulously at herself in the mirror.  When exactly was the last time she showed up to any man’s room wearing only a coat and her underwear?  Or well, a sweater in this case.  She waited until the school was dark and quiet, she couldn’t risk one of the students seeing her dressed this way.  On her way to do a dance of seduction.  No, that’s humiliating.  This was all humiliating.  

What in the hell am I  even doing? She thought.  But it was too late, her legs carried her into the halls and across the floors and up into the West Wing where the boys slept. Tip-toeing quick and stealthy to the only source of light on this side of the school.  

Jeanie took a deep breath and knocked on the open door.  His back was to her, sitting with one foot up on the chair, a knee drawn up to his chest in the most awkward of positions.  His dark head was bent over an abundance of little digital boxes spread across a desk that he tinkered with under a magnifying glass.  Several computers and laptops spread around the room running codes attached to various projects simultaneously.  Lost in his work, he ignored her.

Sighing heavily, Jeanie knocked louder this time.  She raised one hand up the door frame, leaning in the most tempting pose she could muster at 11pm on a Thursday.  His head popped up, and he only glanced over his shoulder in her direction before going back to his work.  

“Well took ye long enough to find me, Miss Turner.  Wanna see what I’ve put together for the school?”  he queried without paying any attention to her attire.  

Jeanie felt the bile rise in her throat.  How in the hell was she ever going to feel better about herself when this man wouldn’t even acknowledge her?  Was it too late to just slip back down in the shadows and melt away like she never existed?  Still she took a breath and made her way to the desk and stopped directly behind him.  She bent forward over his shoulder, her hair brushed against his face and neck.  There was a nearly inaudible hitch in his breathing as she picked up one of the boxes.  Did she make him nervous?  Good, she thought and chewed her lip to prevent a smirk sneaking through.

“Well Mr Delaney.  Or is it McNamara?” She studied the box carefully and poked at it with her nail.

“Doctor” he interjected huskily.  He was nervous.  “I’ve got a PhD,” he corrected.

“Are you even old enough for a doctorate?!” she retorted.

“I’m 24, thank you very much.  I suppose that’s quite young to have several PhDs, but I don’t really keep track.  If it makes you feel better, I'm also a chef. Cooking is just science after all,” he said almost dismissively.    “Oh, That is L.I.S.A. you’re holding.  Large-scale Interface Security Application.”

Jeanie snorted; she couldn't help it.   “Do you mean an alarm system?”

“No it’s a specified security application that only I know how to program and,” he caught himself.  “Yes.  It’s an alarm system.”  He rolled his eyes and gently took the machine back from her and placed it amongst the others.

“If you're working with Gordon on some kind of secret project, why are you teaching Literature?” Jeanie launched into everything without really meaning to. “You know Dr Delaney or whoever the hell you are, several of the girls brought to my attention that there’s a character in those young adult novels written by Hannah O'Flaherty. “A Pool of Green Light?” They are quite popular with our 1st-4th years.  You're Billy Delaney aren't you?  That’s why you gave that name in the pub the other night instead of your real name.  That being Cormac McNamara, am I correct?”  She placed her hands on hips hidden in the mass of wool and cable knit.  

"Delaney is part of my last name. Hyphenated.” once again correcting the headmistress.

 "Don't see much of that in men" 

"Well it and my brain are about all my parents left me,” he moved to face his chair towards Jeanie and abandon his project. 

 "Well I bet they're proud of you, Cormac. Or Billy.  Whatever.” she waved her hand dismissively.  “You lot discovered.. what's it called?" 

"Dimensional Dark Matter Transport with the possibility of Inter and Temporal" 

"I mean, Portals. Or to put it in tv nerd terms: Beam me up Scotty" 

"Precisely!” Cormac exclaimed and stood up excitedly.  “And your ex-boyfriend-" 

"Husband" 

“Yes, husband.  Well couldn't have been good at it if he's your ex.” He bit a finger absently, staring off towards the ceiling.  Then snapped back to attention quickly,  “Well he wants to find a way to make it.. Portable. Not just in plotted locations around the globe. And my business partners, em Hannah and Brett if you will, would like it privatized. Dr Purves, he wants the highest bidder." 

"Military?” Jeanie blanched at the thought.  Then her voice drifted off, “So the books ARE real.. You three are real.  Hannah hid the stories in plain sight for the entire world to discover"  And for the first time, she noticed a framed photo on the vast desk.  A trio of happy young people: red-headed girl, pretty with large blue eyes.  A floppy haired, tan surfer type.  And a tall, lanky boy with oval glasses and severely parted hair starting to curl.  Jeanie took the frame and traced her fingertip along the glass. “Sarah, Zack and Billy.  This is like finding out Harry, Ron and Hermione are living, breathing people.  And here you are, in my school.”

"I could show you if you want but.. Miss Turner, why are you only in a sweater?" Cormac stepped back and lifted his glasses and put them back down. He took them off hurriedly as if he was embarrassed to be wearing them.  Turning once more to face her "Is.. Is that MY sweater? You're only in. Jeanie, Where are your pants?" 

"Well I planned on seducing you Mr.." 

"Doctor" -

Jeanie sighed as if she had been defeated, "DOCTOR Delaney-McNamara" 

"Well Ive mucked that up I suppose,” a deep crimson set across his ears.

" I mean you can have your sweater back,” Jeanie arched an eyebrow seductively. Pulling the sweater over her head to reveal only a pair of her nicest black panties and bra underneath.  Nothing else.

"Thank you it's quite my favorite-" Cormac’s eyes widened when he noticed the headmistress in front of him wearing nothing but lingerie.  He squinted briefly while scratching his head.  “Oh.. Jeanie. That’s..” his voice drifted off lost in shock.

Ignoring the embarrassment growing in her chest, Jeanie crossed her arms over her chest.  “Why in the hell did you take your glasses off?”

“Oh, em.. Hannah always tells me I’m far more attractive without them.” he shrugged.

“Just like how Clark Kent is only slightly, by a molecule,” Jeanie pinched her fingers together, “less sexy than Superman with his glasses" 

"But his glasses are fake,” Cormac ignored the obvious joke.  “Right now I can just see shapes. Lovely, curved shapes! but only shapes." waving a hand in her general direction again.

Jeanie sat down on his bed without the sweater, to protect her now she just decided to go with her original plan. She crossed her long legs and leaned back with one hand back on the mattress. "Ok give us a look with the glasses on, Delaney.. Mcnamara?" This was frustrating.

"No, I reckon I'll have the kids call me Cormac" his hands on thin hips as he glanced upwards in thought

"Yes, erase that line of authority between yourself and 11-15 year olds. Don't underestimate them, Billy.  Or Cormac.  Or whatever.  You are probably the smartest professor Saint Fergus has ever had, but you’re handsome.  My girls will eat you alive" 

"I wouldn't go that far!" he was exasperated for some reason. 

"You have five PhDs and can’t even legally rent a car in America yet," Jeanie pointed out. 

Cormac waved her off dismissively.  “No!  Not the smart or genius part.  That is true,” he agreed without pretension. “It’s the handsome part,” he rolled his eyes in frustration.  

“Look McNamara, I can’t tell if you’re being humble or an asshole.  Your constant squinting and inflamed cheeks are ruining my perception.”

"Inflamed.." he touched his face  "It's rather distracting. You in your.  I may realize now that's your intent. I'm not really NEW to this, uh women coming on to me. It's just not always quite so forward?"

 "Had I known you were a doctor of  Quantum Mechanics, my approach would be a little less intense. 10 quid or not, you were the one kissing me last night." Jeanie got up off the bed "Ill go, but can I take your sweater with me? The students don't need to see this" 

"Oh, em do ya have to? You're already here, and I'm sure quite lovely to look at." 

"Cormac put your glasses on" 

"Really?" he was adorably confused "I would have to take them off if we-" 

"Have sex?" 

"I didn't mean to imply- I've never really-" he nervously put his glasses back on. Then started fiddling with his hands and chewing on one. 

"No fucking way!” Jeanie sat up quickly “But you're-" 

"Oh please don't say hot." 

"Well-travelled?"

"I am not completely virginal, I'll have ye know! I've done tings. SEXY tings. I've put my mouth and fingers in places on a woman. I'm just picky about where I’d put my penis."  

Jeanie’s amused now, she can’t help it. An eyebrow raised and a laugh ready to escape because he's pacing around and gesticulating wildly now. "Are.. are you getting more Irish?" 

"MAYBE I AM!" he shouted louder than he meant to, then unexpectedly pulled his shirt over his head.

Jeanie laughed at the absurdity now. "Cormac. Or Billy, whatever you are more comfortable with." She kneeled on the bed coming to the edge of it. "We don't have to do this. I'm not asking you to justify your virginity; that your business. It’s a patriarchal construct anyways to make us feel like we have to engage in sexual activity.  Then when we do, we’re trash.  It’s a no-win situation for anyone. I LIKE you. We have all school year to get to know one another better."

“I think Dr Delaney-McNamara, but Cormac works just fine for you” his tone all at once softer and deeper.  

There was a weird electricity in the air, which very well could have been the obscene amount of tech equipment in the small dorm room.  It could have also been that the atmosphere switched so fast from mortification to that moment your body knows something is going to happen.  Jeanie’s head began to swim when she realized the young man in front of her was unbuttoning his jeans to step out of them.  

“Bloody hell...” was all she could utter before he wrapped her up in his arms.  

Jeanie’s hand on Cormac’s hip and the other tangled in his hair as they found themselves in another kiss.  Mouths dancing together.  She sat back and pulled him down so that he was laying completely on top of her now.  His skin was hot almost like a sunburn.  Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Jeanie thought maybe a literal electricity had settled in him from using the portals so often all these years. Their tongues pushed back and forth, she realized his body began to feel similar to one of those static glass balls.  The kind you press your hand against and every single hair on your body raises?  It was strange and exhilarating and comical all at once. 

The thought was fleeting though because Cormac’s lips made its way down Jeanie’s neck.  The breath caught in her throat as he bit softly before trailing to her chest.  His large hand gripped the flesh of her hip, snaking it around to grab at her backside before settling it between her thighs.  The other struggled to unhook her bra while in their current position, his annoyance eliciting a giggle.  

Managing to roll them so that she was on top now, Jeanie deftly reached behind herself to finish the job.  Her breasts free, Cormac took one in his mouth.  His tongue was warm against her skin as he began to suck and lick at a nipple and the flesh around it.  Alternating between each hungrily, hand still lost in between her thighs.  A  finger began to trace the fabric of her panties.  

Audible gasp now, as Jeanie fumbled to reciprocate any way she could.  Kissing his forehead?  or rocking her hips against his hand, she began to float outside of her body. What was she doing?  Trying to feel wanted after all of this time?  Maybe give the other adults something to gossip about over the weekend.  Attractive new professor, the benefactor of Saint Fergus, fucking the boss his first week in.  Jeanie was his boss, but also his subordinate?  Because Cormac, with Brett and Hannah, owned her livelihood now.  

“What a fine mess we’re in, Delaney,” she managed amongst the new spate of kisses.  

Ignoring Jeanie’s frank statement, Cormac took to nibbling her throat again. Exchanging now for harder bites, just enough to let her know he had the upper hand. Fingers deftly pumping rhythmically with the pulsating of her body. He found that part of her with ease. The button Gordon never could without neon arrows. 

“I walked through an alien portal at sixteen and made one of the greatest scientific discoveries none of us can talk about,” That Irish lilt heavy in her ear. “A fine mess has been the last decade of my life, Ms. Turner.”   

There was almost a reckless abandon as Jeanie unexpectedly came. She cried out; it echoed off the dorm walls briefly before Cormac clamped a hand over her mouth. Their eyes both wide before they lost themselves in a fit of giggles. 

Lying beside each other now on the bed, Jeanie felt self-conscious while Cormac absently twirled a finger in her mass of red hair. She felt his green eyes staring as she traced the infinity symbol with the tip of a nail on his chest. Their breathing patterns quickly marched in time together.

“Not sure why I have a gut feeling your timidity was a fucking game,” Jeanie spoke without a hint of anger. More like curiosity. 

“Only just a little. I am far more capable of handling people in small doses.  There's a  certain anxiety hanging around the average university student. I finished undergrad in a year and graduate school in another. Never really fit in with most people my age. I thrived in a boarding college like this one. Never more than 15 children a class. Miss Murphy let me do as I please because I kept mostly to myself, even when she and the others were strangely codependent on my brain.”  

Cormac’s eyes still trained on Jeanie while he spoke. “I didn't mind. I DON'T mind. My tinkering and projects work bloody fantastic now!” he exclaimed with pride. Those long fingers combed through Jeanie's hair. His gaze became nostalgic, “I transferred my AI tech into the lab at Aberdeen.  There's my  personal version.  She's asleep right now,” he chuckled, gesturing towards the wall of monitors. 

Jeanie grimaced, “She?!” 

“Oh yes! SILVIA! I suppose she'll become LISA’s big sister.” 

“You invented a primitive android.” her response was incredulous.

“No no. SILVIA was a lie detector I installed artificial intelligence in to play ch-..” Cormac caught himself. For the hundredth time that evening, “I suppose. Yes,” he tapped a finger against the soft dimple in his cheek. 

“You suppose!” Jeanie reeled with laughter once more.  

Cormac’s face flushed pink, “You know what I did to you was just basic anatomy that’s easily taught by reading a damn book. I reckon you'd be interested in what else reading has taught me about a woman's body.”

And so it began. 

[that-scouse-wizard]

6, 7, 12 and 14 for David 💛

Thanks for the ask mate!

6) If they were videogame characters, what loot would they drop when they died?

I’ll go in assuming a fantasy RPG in which case, David would probably be some sort of Viking-esque warrior, owing to his much older heritage being from those who first settled Ireland. So maybe a Barbarian if you wanted to give him a class. I can imagine him using a shield and an axe. 

As for the actual loot, likely the aforementioned shield and/or hammer. Probably a ring or a necklace of some sort. Also quite a bit of whatever currency (likely gold) is being used.

7) What are the last 3 things in their google search history?

- How to tell my wife I got a puppy by accident.

- How to look after a puppy.

- Where to get dog food at 2:00AM.

12) What do they use as a bookmark?

David dog ears his books... yes Lizzie is allowed to be annoyed at him for it.

14) What would you have to put under a crate propped up with a stick to catch them?

Simply place a pack of McVities chocolate digestives under the crate, hide in wait. About two seconds later you’ll hear the crate slam. Lifting it up will reveal one David Willows contently munching on a biscuit.

[avintagekiss24]

Eyes Always Seeking [1/?]

Pairing: Dark!Biker!Bucky Barnes x Original Black Female Character

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: Dub-Con/Non-Con, smut, rough sex

Summary: You head out into the middle of nowhere Texas to see your brother Sam, but end up getting into more than what you originally bargained for.

Word Count: 3645

A/N: Ok, so. This is a subject that I’ve NEVER ventured into before... but it’s kind of a thing for me. I’m kinda into it, so when I found this challenge, I wanted to try my hand at it. I totally understand for those of you that are not, so please, please, PLEASE keep scrolling if you have an issue with dubious consent and/or no consent. This could also turn into a series thing, because I have an idea for a second and possibly a third part, depending on how it’s received. Please be easy on me, i’m so nerouvousssssssssssss.

This was written for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 3000 followers #inthedark!challenge. The prompt is in bold.

PART TWO | SERIES MASTERLIST

You bite your bottom lip as your eyes scan the neon sign out front. Your windshield wipers dispel the water droplets that dribble across it as an old country song plays softly from your radio. You jump slightly as the loud roar of approaching Harley’s cracks through the still night. You grip the steering wheel with your hands, turning slightly in your seat to watch the pack of motorcycles pull into the parking lot. Big, gruff, bearded men, covered in tattoos and leather, disembark from their metal steeds and move inside the bar, their heavy boots scraping across the gravel lot. 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, praying that you don’t get murdered tonight. You remove yourself from your car, jogging slightly as a few raindrops still fall from the passing storm. You move inside the bar, loud metal music hitting you in the face as soon as the door opens. Your dark eyes instantly start scanning the crowd as you clutch your jean jacket to your chest.

“Sis! Over here!”

Sam’s voice pulls your head left and you smile as soon as your eyes land on his cheerful face. He stands, his hands extended out as you walk toward him, falling into his chest, “Brother.”

“Baby sister! It’s been too long, city girl.” He kisses your forehead.

“You shouldn’t have moved out to bum-fuck. We could see each other more.” You smile back, your eyes still scanning the rough group around you, “I mean, this is certainly a change.”

Your brother was once a financial advisor, a partner at his firm. He drove an Audi, wore Armani suits on Saturdays, and wouldn’t leave the house without at least six or seven hundred dollars in cash, just in case something came up. A year ago, he gave it all up; quit his job, sold his car, and bought a farm in bum fuck Texas. He made new friends too, one’s who frequent the hell hole your currently standing in. 

His laughter fills your ears. At least that hasn’t changed, “Stop lookin’ like that. You’re fine.”

“I feel like I’m gonna get lynched if I’m not careful.”

“Stop!” He laughs, bringing his beer to his lips, “You’re such a racist.”

Your mouth drops open as you push your finger into your chest, “I’m the racist? Really? They’ve probably never seen real black people before in their lives!”

He shrugs, “They don’t bother me and I’ve been coming here for a year. Sit down, shut up, and drink your beer, yuppie.”

You soon relax, as much as you can anyway, and share a few beers with your brother. You speak about your parents, off in Europe for the summer, your job, which you hate, and your love life, nonexistent. Sam’s met a pretty little farmer, Wanda, who’ll be joining the two of you in a while. You’re happy for him. He really seems happy out here in bum-fuck. 

You’re on your fourth beer, spinning it slowly on the wooden table as drops of condensation slide down the neck of the bottle. Sam jokes and laughs with an older man, his long beard braided down to his bellybutton, chains hanging from his black leather vest. 

“Sam Wilson, how the fuck are you?” 

A new voice sounds from behind your brother, causing you both to turn toward it. Your lips part slightly as your eyes widen at the sight of this new man. He’s young, probably your age, his long dark hair pulled back into a low bun, loose tendrils falling around his face. He’s dressed in a leather jacket, black shirt and dark jeans, heavy boots covering his feet. Tattoos slither up his neck, a single gold earring hangs from his earlobe. His square chin and jaw is covered in a light stubble as he slaps hands with your brother and pulls him into a hug.

“Bucky Barnes! Long time no see.” Sam turns slightly, nudging you with his arm, “This is my baby sister.”

When the stranger shifts his eyes to you, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. You push hair behind your ear, dropping your eyes from him to the floor, your nerves making you laugh lightly. You flick your eyes back up to him to find him still staring at you, his face set seriously. You look away again. Something about him make you nervous.

“You got a name?” He asks after a second, his voice low.

You nod quickly, tucking more hair behind your ear, “Yeah, um, S-Sao-Saoirse.” You keep nodding, “Saoirse.”

He quirks his eyebrow, dropping his chin slightly, peering at you through his dark eyelashes, “Saoirse?”

“Mom and dad found out they were pregnant with her while vacationing in Ireland.” Sam adds, smirking at you, “But, just like her name, she’s a real weirdo.”

“Fuck you, Sam.” You scoff, swatting at his arm and rolling your eyes. 

Bucky lets his eyes linger on you for a second or two more, before finally shifting his gaze back to your brother.  You drop your head, letting out air from between your teeth as you pick at the label on your beer bottle. Heat rises in your cheeks as you shift again, suddenly more nervous than you had been all night. You glance up again and catch his eyes on you, staring at you with no emotion on his face or in his eyes. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as your lips part again. Sam and a few others talk and laugh around the two of you, Bucky using their distraction to size you up. His piercing gaze drops from your face to your exposed legs as you sit with them crossed. He drags his eyes slowly up the length of your legs and licks his lips, his head cocking to the side. You push your hands down to your knees and calves, trying to cover them as much as you can. You clear your throat, moving your eyes around the bar again, hoping someone will pull his attention away from you. 

You can’t help but slide your eyes back to him after a few seconds. He’s graduated up to your chest, not giving a damn that he’s making you uncomfortable. You move in your seat again, letting out a shaky breath as you pull the lapels of your jean jacket over one another. You’re suddenly cursing your choice of outfit, a low cut mustard yellow sundress, the one that if course barely covers your ass when you stand. If you lean forward enough, your breasts are on full display, if not spilling out of the garment entirely.

A devilish smile curls on his face as he snaps his eyes back up to yours. He rolls his head to the opposite side of his neck, the quick flash of humanity he showed falling from his face. Despite his eyes being a brilliant blue, there’s nothing but darkness in them as he ogles you. They dip to your chest again, his tongue farting out to sweep across his bottom lip. His mouth drops open and he presses his tongue against the back of his teeth. Slowly, provocatively, he sticks his tongue out, licking his upper lip as he gawks at you. You stand from the wooden barstool quickly, pulling at the bottom of your dress, pretending to not feel his cold stare on you.

“You okay?” Sam asks, turning his body toward you.

“Yeah, yeah, I just uh,” You stammer, “I just need the bathroom.”

Sam points toward the back of the bar and you take off without another word, clasping your jacket shut as move through people. You slam the rickety bathroom door behind you and lean up against it, closing your eyes and tilting your head toward the ceiling. You wave your hand at your face, trying to create some sort of quick breeze to cool you down. You start to shake as sweat prickles on the surface of your skin, holy shit.

You push away from the door and turn on the faucet, running your hands underneath the stream of water. You pat your face and neck with your wet fingers and dab at your skin with a paper towel before taking a step back to eye your reflection. You button up your jacket, covering your cleavage completely, and tuck more hair behind your ears. You take a deep breath to calm yourself, and reach for the door, pulling it open. You take a step or two before two hands grab you from behind. Within a second, you’re slammed up against the opposite wall, a sharp gasp falling from your lips. 

Your mouth drops open as you stare back into the all too familiar pair of eyes of Bucky Barnes. You breathe heavily, your body starting to shake again as he places a hand by your head on the wall behind you. He doesn’t speak. He just stares at you, his lips ever so slightly quirked up in a smirk as his eyes travel up and down your face. He’s so close his nose brushes against yours, his hot, beer laden breath washing over your face. 

He pulls back just enough to bring his beer to his lips. You let out audible breaths as he takes a swig of the cool liquid, his eyelids low as he keeps his eyes on you. He licks his lips once he’s finished, leaning back into you, his stubble brushing against your chin as he pins you to the wall. 

“Saoirse.” Your name comes out slow and heavy.

You close your eyes, nodding as you swallow hard, “Yes.”

Bucky brings the beer back to his mouth, taking another drink. He turns his head to glance back at your table, Sam mostly, before bringing his full attention back to you. He brings his hand up and grabs some of your hair, running his fingers through it before playing with the ends. Fear rises in your chest as you break eye contact with him to stare over his shoulder. He leans in, pushing your head to the right with his nose as he takes a deep breath, filling his nostrils with your perfume and shampoo.

“You smell nice.”

You swallow again, your stomach rising into your throat as your breath becomes quick and harsh, “Th-thank you.”

He spreads your legs with his knee, pushing his lower half into yours as his fingers leave your hair. He drops his index finger to your chin before dragging it down your neck and chest before hooking it into your jacket. He lifts his eyes back toward yours, and smiles again. You blink furiously, your lip quivering as tears threaten to splash against your cheeks. 

“Aww,” He coos condescendingly, “What’s wrong sugar?” You drop your head as much as you can, but his finger catches your chin, pushing it up harshly, “You don’t have manners? Answer me.”

“You’re scaring me.” You croak, your voice choppy and rushed as your lips tremble.

A tear makes it escape, sliding down your cheek slowly as you do everything you can to avoid eye contact with him. He cocks his head again and bites his bottom lip as another smile breaks onto his face. He’s enjoying this. He chuckles before humming quickly in happiness. He swipes at the tear with his thumb, brushing it away in one swift motion before running his calloused hand down your cheek. He grabs your chin and squeezes, forcing your head back straight so you can look at him. You whimper, and you swear you feel his dick twitch against your thigh. 

“Yo Buck! How about a game of pool, huh?”

He snaps his head toward the voice and you take the opportunity to slide out from him. You walk quickly back to the table occupying your none-the-wiser brother, wrapping your arms around your waist, keeping your head down. 

You grab your keys and start for the door, but Sam grabs your wrist, “Hey, hey, where you goin’?”

You force a smile on your face, glancing up at him, hoping your watery eyes don’t give you away, “I’m kinda tired, Sam.”

“Oh, come on, it’s early still! Wanda isn’t even here yet, I want you to meet her.”

“I can meet her in the morning. I am staying the weekend, you know.” You answer quickly, shifting your eyes toward Bucky, who know leans over a pool table. He stands up straight, lighting a cigarette before he catches your gaze, “Sam, please.”

Your brothers dark eyes bounce between yours, his forehead crunching as he squints, “Are you okay?”

You smile wider, trying to convince him. Your eyes dart to Bucky, then back to Sam, “Yes.”

He turns away from you, his eyes scanning the people around you, “Did someone touch you? I swear to fuck, I’ll-”

“Sam, I’m fine.” You reassure him, ignoring the constant leer of your unwanted companion, “I’ll see you back at your place, ok?”

Sam squints again but finally relents, leaning in and kissing your check, “Text me when you get there?”

You smile, moving out of Bucky’s eye line, “Of course.”

You move back outside, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you head straight to your car. You’re almost there, pulling out the hand that grasps your keys. You hear the door click as it unlocks, and you reach for the door handle, feeling the metal under your fingertips. You stop, closing your eyes as a cool Texas breeze whips around you. You let out a breath, then suck in some air again. It’s only then do you realize the dampness between your legs. 

You open your eyes, staring over the top of your car into the dim lit parking lot. You shift and squeeze your thighs together, a sharp jolt of electricity shooting through you. The fear in your chest, your shaky limbs, your dry mouth ass start to confuse you as the symptoms twist and turn into something else. This is arousal. The ghost feeling of his stubble on your skin makes your stomach tighten as your clit begins to ache. The rough denim of his jeans that rubbed against the inside of your thigh as he pinned you to the wall with his body makes your chest swell with lust and panic. 

The entire scene was oddly erotic. His hot beer breath, his hand squeezing your face, the tears that threatened to spill… you’d never felt this way before. You’ve never had attention forced on you before. In the moment, it was terrifying but now? You’re body obviously doesn’t seem to mind. 

You shake your head, pushing the thoughts away as you try and snap back to your senses. This isn’t right. What happened to you in there, wasn’t right. You shouldn’t feel this way. You flush with embarrassment, feeling it in the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You feel dirty for even entertaining it. 

You pull on the door handle, pulling it open when suddenly, you’re violently pushed back into it. You’re whipped around, coming face to face with your attacker. You struggle against him, slapping and pushing, but to no avail. He grabs your hands and pins them to behind you to your car, his large hand clasping both your wrists.

“I’m gonna scream Bucky!” You warn, “I mean it!”

“The fuck you will.” He hisses, grabbing your chin. 

Audible breaths fall from your mouth as your eyes bounce wildly between his. You don’t scream. You just stand there, pinned up against your car panic swells in your chest. Bucky peers back at you for a few seconds, before crashing his lips to yours. You groan loudly, trying to turn your head from side to side to get away from his invasive mouth. He pulls you from the car before he slams you back into it with a thud, pushing his leg between yours once more as you scream tightly. 

He pulls back with a loud smack, leaving your mouth open as you drag in deep breaths of air. Your lips are swollen from the hard kiss, wetness splashing against your thighs as your arousal grows from the terror. Bucky stares back at you, a wild, dangerous look in his eye. He drops his line of sight to your jacket before lifting his eyes back to you, his own breath ragged as his chest rises and falls a little harder and faster. He tightens his grip on your hands before reaching up to violently rip open your jacket, the small silver buttons falling to the ground as they break. 

He digs his hand into the top of your dress, pushing his fingers along your skin until they graze over your thick nipple. You hiss as he pinches the thick skin harshly, slamming your eyes shut as the sudden pain rips through you. He brings his hot mouth to your neck, sucking on your skin as his tongue darts out to lick at you. 

He bites down without warning, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You push your hips into his as you let out a long, fluid moan.You bite your bottom lip as you begin to grind your hips against his thigh, your clit throbbing at the sensation of the denim. Bucky pulls back again, pulling your weight from the car and dragging you to the passengers side so he can keep his eye on the door of the bar.

He pushes you back against the car, grabbing your thigh and lifting it to crane your leg around his hip. His fingers reach underneath your dress, skimming along your soaked satin panties, another chuckle rumbling through his chest, “So fucking wet baby.” He mumbles. 

He pulls the pale blue underwear from your waist harshly, ripping them totally. He stuffs the remnants of the material into his back pocket before unbuttoning his jeans, pulling his hard cock free. He slams into you without warning. You cry out, craning your head toward the sky as you throw your hands around his neck and shoulders to help steady yourself. Bucky covers your mouth with his hand, silencing you as he pulls out and slams back into you again. 

“Don’t make a fucking sound. Hear me?”

His pace is fast and unforgiving as you groan into the palm of his hand. You bounce with his rhythm, your back sliding up and down the door of your car as he fucks you. You hold tightly onto his leather jacket as he leans into you, scratching at your jawline with his teeth. He sinks his teeth into your neck again and not even his palm can stifle the sound that erupts from you. It’s low and guttural, almost animalistic as the pain shoots through you. 

The sound draws a scratchy grunt from Bucky, his hand slipping from your mouth and up into your hair, “Didn’t I tell you to keep your filthy mouth shut?” He asks, pulling your hair roughly.

You stifle the scream that scratches at your throat from the pain that prickles in your scalp. His hips continue to push into you, rough and fast, his thickness spreading and stretching your muscles as you feel each thrust in your stomach. A hand wraps around your neck, putting pressure on your airway as the other slinks around your waist. His fingernails scratch at your skin as he digs his digits into your flesh, squeezing so hard that you know you’ll have bruises after.

You feel dizzy; chills flood your body as your release begins to build. Jolts of electricity bounce within your stomach, your muscles tightening and flexing with every stroke. You dig your fingers into the leather of his jacket as tears slide down your cheeks from the force of his hips. He rocks into you again and your orgasm erupts, coursing through you with reckless abandon. 

Your clit pulses as your walls clench around him. Liquid drips down your thighs as you come and splashes on the gravel below your foot. Within seconds, Bucky spurts into you, filling your sex with hot, white ribbons of his seed. He falls against you, the stubble on his cheeks cutting into your face and neck as you both breathe heavily. 

You stand motionless, Bucky still buried to his hilt in your wetness, your leg still thrown around his hip. You stare out onto the parking lot, the gravity of what just happened heating your skin. Your hands fall to your sides as he leans back, removing his weight from your body. He pulls out of you unceremoniously and tucks himself back into his jeans, dropping your leg. You link eyes with him, your face hot with embarrassment and shame, your limbs shaky as he peers back at you. 

Without a word, he walks off back toward the bar, digging into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He pulls one out with his teeth, stopping and turning slightly as he lifts his hands to cover the tip with one and flicking open his gold lighter with the other. Another tear slips down your cheek as you watch him, frozen in your fear as he lights the cigarette. He cuts his eyes back toward you, expels a puff of smoke, and then turns away, moving back inside the bar. 

You clutch your jacket in your fingers, covering your chest as you hurry back to the drivers side and fall into the seat. You slam the door closed and grip the steering wheel with both hands as water floods your eyes. You let out deliberate, shaky breaths as your vision tunnels in front of you. You close your eyes, flexing your fingers as you try and calm down. 

So fucking wet, baby.

Your eyes pop back open. You squeeze your legs together. A jolt of electricity shoots through you. You bite your bottom lip as you blink slowly.

[pinkvhs]

this has been a long time coming

ive detached from jack / dont watch jack anymore. i’ve poured so much into this story that involved the egos that i just....can’t let it go. so, im making ocs for the story instead. 

inspired by @lilakennedy . . . here is some info about my boys

Marvin the Magnificent➜ Marvin Lir MacKenna 

age: 27- from the 1920s

Brown wavy hair that goes to past his ears a bit

Blue eyes

Height: 5′7″

irish & welsh ( mother from wales father from ireland ) 

an illusionist / performer 

 Stage performance & regular attitude are a complete 180. Very bold on stage and confident but once he is off he is more reserved and calm

Best friends with Daniel

Knew Daniel for years, since they were around 10 years old. Extremely close bond.

Doesn’t believe in spirits but is very cautious / superstitious 

Gets powers whenever he and Daniel accidentally summon Phonus at Daniel’s Birthday/Halloween party. When it was just the two of them alone. 

He tries to attack Phonus since the monster killed Daniel 

but once he made contact with the demon, he was immediately teleported into our timeline. He took some of Phonus’s powers as a result 

He ends up getting burn marks on his arms/hands and face due to trying to physically fight Phonus when he was furious 

He has powers now, some he doesn’t know he can do yet. But his powers are: ✪= Not used often. ✦= strongest. ✧=weakest

✦ Empathic Element Manipulation ✦✪Fire Manipulation, ✦✪Necromancy, ✦Telekinesis,✦Kinetic Charging

✧✪Electricity Manipulation, ✦Magical Wall Generation, ✦Teleportation, ✧Intangibility, ✧Healing Hands, ✦✪Naturakinetic Combat

Riley finds him and helps him on his feet to find a place to stay

The two of them become close friends eventually, it takes a long time for Marv to warm up to people in this strange new environment- still tortured by that night. 

He blames himself for Daniels death every day. 

With his new unknown powers, he tries to go back in time to stop all this from happening. 

He opens up about his powers to Riley and the truth. 

Riley is beyond amazed that powers and magic exist, he tries to help Marv with his powers. 

He ends up needing to find a sort of job to stay at his home, so he tries the one thing he loved- entertaining people. With his magic, he dumbfounds audiences. 

However, once things were just looking up, his fire magic (the strongest) goes wrong.

He ends up catching a stage set on fire, causing injuries to hundreds. 

He panics. Riley tries to calm him down. But he can’t take it, he is convinced that he is destined to cause harm with these powers. 

He vanishes to a place by the sea and isolates himself, causing people to believe he died in the fire accident. 

He spends his time trying to prefect time travel and is consumed by isolation. though, he does attract wild life to him. they are very at ease with him

Refuses to use his fire magic 

One day, he comes across Viktor’s body on the shore. He takes him in quickly to his small home that he protected in case Phonus ever finds him.

He revives Viktor to come to. The stranger is a total mess and he tries to heal the man, but Viktor grabs him on reflex. So the man patches himself up

The two live together for a few months as the injuries heal up

Viktor convinces him to visit Riley again, so he does.

He teleports there and leaves a note stating that he is alive. He can’t bring himself to see Riley face to face

In the end, he tries to fight off Phonus. He fails miserably

He returns to his home, having Riley there with him. He gives Riley his powers because he doesn’t want to die and these powers go back to Phonus.

He trusts Riley with his life

Once Riley is given the powers, he passes away.

When his body is all alone peacefully at rest in the home, without any magic to protect it, Phonus finds the body

But no magic

The demon still takes the body. Using it to wake him up again and look into his mind to find out where the powers have gone

He remains a soul bounded victim to Phonus and reunites with Daniel

Both under Phonus’s control

Chase Brody➜ Noah Oliver Dodge

age: 29 - from our timeline

messy brown hair thats dyed blonde at the tips of it

brown eyes

Height: 5′9″

American

Dropped out of university and works part time at a local electronics store

loves to break things and try to fix them up again and make it totally new! 

has a passion for computers and likes to make his own computer 

he also loves film and had dreams of making a film 

a disaster cook but god help him he tries 

Father of 2 girls 

childish and fun loving 

reckless at times 

loves nature and going on walks / hikes 

met his wife in high school (been together since they were 16) 

they go to the same university, his wife studying to be a nurse 

at 18 he accidentally gets her pregnant and her parents arent the happiest about it

they get married at 19 

he becomes a stay at home dad and drops out to take care of their baby till she finishes nursing

they end up having another child once they get a small apartment together 

his daughter is friends with Viktors daughter and thats how the two families meet 

His wife actually works with Viktor and didn’t know at the time

his wife divorces him because, even though she does love him, she can’t keep working like this just to get by. she needs security and they dont have it. 

he is allowed to see his kids still but at the time it was very painful for him

he lives alone in that apartment, often calling Viktor to talk and invite him over so he doesn’t do shit he regrets 

he talks about how Viktor is so lucky to have such a wonderful life and wishes he could have that (since he doesn’t know the truth)

Viktor and Noah become very close and often have their kids over at each others houses

he hears news that Viktor is missing and becomes a mess. he is alone and doesnt know what to do. 

he tries to make it known that he is missing online, making posts and videos as much as he can to get peoples attention 

he visits the Valentin house hold and offers his wife any help thats needed, despite knowing all the turmoil they went though. he cares about the kids and doesn’t want them to worry. 

Henrik Von Schneeplestein➜ Viktor Alexis Valentin

age: 32 -from our timeline 

short grey hair

extremely pale blue eyes

pale, almost sickly skin 

Height: 6′2″

German

Doctor that specializes in internal medicine (meaning he focuses on helping adults) but also is a surgeon

Father of 3 girls

loves to bake! 

a hopeless romantic actually

he is very cold and standoff ish but once he loves you, he LOVES you

blunt to a fault still though

cares about people. more so than his own well being

extremely loyal

met his wife in university. he took an anatomy art class 

his wife helped him improve his drawing skills and the two became close

he fell for her very hard 

they get married and live in a house that they saved up for (with extra help from both of their parents)

once settled, they have their children 

his wife is a biology teacher with a minor in art teaching! 

he takes family trips whenever he can to the beach! his kids love the ocean!

he comes home one day to find his wife cheated on him- he suspected this for a while now. he found a shirt underneath the bed, thinking it was just a gift for later down the road for christmas or something. he went to fix it when a piece of paper fell out of the pocket. her phone number

he never gets mad at her. he blames himself

he thinks he isnt perfect enough

he becomes extremely distant and cold, more than before. never knowing when to bring it up

the two of them grow apart but still live together

they make sure not to worry their children though, they dont want them to think its their fault. 

he never brings up this information to Noah because he doesn’t want him to worry. 

very envious of Noah though and wish he would smack him. Noah has a wife that loves him and he wishes that Noah could wake up and see that and fix his actions. 

he does break down one night and tell Noah everything that happened

one day at the office, a man came in with a horrible neck injury. 

he typically sees people who just need some medication or the worst injury being a bite from a dog, but even that wasn’t bad. 

he rushes to take care of the stranger. once they were alone for a brief second, he gets trapped inside. 

Phonus used Daniels body in order to get to the Doctor. He attacks and possesses Viktor. 

Once Phonus is done using Viktor, he takes him to a cliff near the sea

He is snaps his neck and lets the body fall into the ocean. 

Eventually, he washes up to shore where Marvin is

he stays with marvin for months while he heals up himself, he refuses to get any magic help

once he decides to leave marvin has a hard time letting go, he is worried viktor will fall victim to phonus again 

he leaves to go home but once he reaches the steps, phonus finds him again. 

Jackieboy Man➜ Riley Lee Young

age: 23 - from our timeline 

very curly blonde hair

green eyes

skin that tans pretty easily 

the most muscular out of the lads but isnt extremely buff 

Height: 5′6″

American

Lives alone in a small apartment 

a college student, unsure what to major in but possibly wants to be a vet

LOVES animals! 

a vegetarian ! 

a pretty good cook actually! 

has a heart of gold and sees the best in most people, though he isn’t stupid. he knows there are terrible people in the world that can’t change and deserve punches to the face

he watches pets and volunteers at animal shelters!

he also babysits Viktors kids to get some money

was kicked out of his home. Viktor found out about it and bought him a small apartment to live in. (he would of offered Riley to stay but he has issues at home that he doesn’t want to subject Riley to on the daily)

he is the girls big brother figure and he loves to pay pretend with them ! 

He meets Marvin and they eventually become friends

he helps Marvin gain back confidence, giving him a place to stay, and helps him actually feel . . at home in this timeline 

when he finds out the truth that marvin is from the 1920s and has powers he cannot get over how cool it is! calling him a super hero and showing him comics that he has. he helps marvin try to get a better hold on the powers

he was around whenever the fire accident with marvins powers happen, he tries to calm marvin down but ends up alone. left to wonder what happened to his friend. 

When he has to start university up again he has to let the Valentin family know that he can’t be around as much as before but will try to help out if needed 

Viktor’s wife ends up calling Riley one day and begs him to come to the house as soon as he can for Viktor has been missing for days now

Riley puts up posters and gets the news out that Viktor is missing as much as he can around the city. 

He still goes to university but spends a lot of time in the Valentin household. Visiting on holidays and the girls birthdays. Having no news of Viktor. 

he later on gains marvins powers, his mainly being electricity and strength. 

he is set on finding phonus and fixing things for marvins sake 

Jameson Jackson➜ Daniel Edmund Thomas

age: 27 - from the 1920s

slicked short black hair

brown eyes

Height: 5′7″

British

a charming, bold, charismatic man 

an actor and musician, exceptionally good on piano

very witty and clever

lives a rather extravagant life 

very close friends with Marvin, trusts him with his life

on his 27th birthday on Halloween, he throws a party

he loves to mess around with guests and asks Marvin if they can have a a seance

they try it to entertain the guests, but nothing happens (to marvins relief) 

the party continues on till its just marvin and him by the end of the night

they try again to contact from the beyond

they succeed 

he comes face to face with the demon. an invisible hand causing him to kill himself. making Marvin watch 

he becomes Antiphonus’s personal toy 

his mind becomes warped and he loses all sense of who he used to be

he tries to fight back, but once he does, his tongue is cut out of his mouth. never to be able to voice for help again 

his body now bound to Phonus becomes a personal pin cushion. being cut open and inspected to see how far humans have come with healing themselves. to see how far a human body can handle things

being trapped with phonus he starts to believe that Marvin caused his death. he believes everything phonus tells him and is set on killing marvin 

he becomes very aware of realities all thanks to Phonus. 

Antisepticeye➜ Antiphonus

age: unknown. 

an immortal being / demon

seems to have been around for centuries 

first appears invisible, then a shadow figure, to a pitch black faceless figure that takes on more of a human shape - till finally, he appears to look like Daniel 

he is fascinated with humans, very curious and destructive 

he takes Daniel in as a host. he rests inside of Daniel’s body till he is strong enough to mimic the physical outer appearance of him

when he possesses people becomes stronger. he doesnt have full control right away, it takes him a bit of time to warm up once again to how powerful he used to be. 

he can see into his victims mind when possessing them, he knows all what Daniel knows / remembers. Daniels fame, fears, friendship. family, love- he knows it all. 

He uses this to his advantage to keep Daniel around without fighting him back- using Marvin against him

he is after the powers that he accidentally gave to Marvin on impact

he travels to the dimensions he has access to and time lines in hopes to find Marvin, taking Daniel along with no choice

he lands in our dimension and timeline to sense that his powers are close by

He ends up sabotaging Marvin’s performance with fire magic in order to kill him or capture him but it fails- he looses sight of him

While he is searching through the streets, he over hears talk about the human body. He comes across Viktors practice building and opens the door a crack. He can sense so many souls and blood in that building and gets vastly curious. He notices people injured and ill, waiting for care. He hatches an idea. 

 He returns to Daniel and possesses his body. He takes Daniel to an alley way close to the building, away from the eyes of others. He grabs the sharpest thing he can find and plunges it deep into the side of his neck and carves it out slowly and rips it out. 

He quickly makes Daniel reach the building and barges in, causing everyone to look on in horror. The nurses there rush to his aid as Phonus makes Daniel gasp and hold his neck to try to stop the bleeding. Nurses page for Viktor asap as they get Daniel to a stretcher and room fast.  Viktor arrives shortly after and is fast to help Daniel. Daniel just looks at Viktor and tries to nod. 

Once the nurses leave for a brief moment and its just him and Viktor, Phonus makes the door lock them inside.

Viktor goes to inject him with medication but Daniel reaches out and grabs Viktors arm. He say to Daniel that he knows needles are scary but you need this now, let go please. Daniel sits up and twists Viktors arm, causing Viktor to wince in pain while looking shocked. 

He grabs Daniels hand with his free one and tries to pry it away, but can't. Daniel kicks him away, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. He gets up from the bed. The lights inside the room begin to flicker faster and faster. Electronics in the room flickering on and off, radios and tv consumed with fast stations, fluctuating volumes, and static. Viktor gets to his feet and hears all this noise and sees this horror in front of him. 

Phonus leaves Daniels body, causing Daniel's wound to disappear. Phonus stands in front of him.

He gets inside of Viktors mind to find all that he can about the human body and the amount of pain that it can handle. 

He sees in Viktors mind a young man with curly blonde hair. And for a brief moment inside of Viktors mind, he sees Marvin 

in the end he ends up taking Marvin captive but finds that the powers are gone. 

he keeps marvin around because he sees too, that he gave that blonde boy his powers

so he is on the hunt for Riley