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shireness-says · 5 years

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If I Could See Your Face Once More (5/6)

Summary: This time, there’s no celebration at Granny’s when the latest crisis has been resolved. Instead, they’re left to deal with the body of Killian Jones. A 5B canon divergence where Killian dies in Camelot, never becoming a Dark One. Rated T for language. Also on AO3. ~9K. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

A/N: Remember how I said I’d fix the angst? This is me fixing it. I hope you enjoy how it pays off. We’ve just got the epilogue left, which I’ve already got written and just need to tweak, so that will be posting in the next couple of days.

Thanks to @snidgetsafan for betaing despite any residual anger from the last chapter. I love you, babe.

Tagging: @thejollyroger-writer, @profdanglaisstuff, @captainsjedi, @ultraluckycatnd, @superchocovian, @snowbellewells, @killianjones4ever82, @wellhellotragic, @ohmakemeahercules, @let-it-raines, @lifeinahole27, @kmomof4. Shoot me a message if you want to be added to the list!

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Killian moves about the Underworld in a daze after Emma and her family leave. What’s the point of anything without her?

He’d promised he wouldn’t let Emma and their what-might-have-beens be his unfinished business, but he doesn’t feel ready to move on yet either. Call it madness, or hopelessly waiting for a sign, but he still feels that buzz of anticipation running through his empty veins, like there’s still something’s coming - even if he can’t put his finger on exactly what that is. From what he understands of this light to the other side business, it won’t work until he’s ready anyways. There’s no point in forcing it.

(Now, stuck alone in the Underworld for the foreseeable future, it seems unbearably optimistic to have promised he would move on when he has to spend the rest of his eternity knowing that he has a child he’ll never meet. That’s the very definition of unfinished business. And yet, he’ll still do his very best to find a better place, if only because Emma asked it of him.)

When he’s not consumed by self pity, Killian tries to throw himself back into a routine. He bites the emotional bullet and dedicates his days to closing up both the Charmings’ loft and Regina’s mansion, making sure that everything is cleaned and the drop cloths are replaced on all the furniture to protect it - from what, he’s not sure, considering they don’t particularly have to worry about sunlight fading the fabrics, but it seems important regardless. That’s how they’d found things, after all. Eventually, he’ll focus on repairs to his own home as well, but first things first. He’s back to working evenings at Liam’s bar as well - just as much a distraction for himself as to reassure Liam that he’s as well as can be managed. It’s not pleasant, and there are still moments where it feels like a wave of pain for all he’s lost is trying to drag him under, but he’s muddling through. He has to.

Even in his haze of pain and loneliness and apathy, it’s impossible to miss the changes that suddenly hit the Underworld, only days after the departure of his friends and family. Despite the red tint to everything and the overwhelming state of disrepair, there’d been something of an order to the underworld, even if just in the way it mirrors Storybrooke above. Now, however, it’s chaos, elements from different realms springing up willy-nilly - vines he recognizes from Neverland and streets turned to the distinctive golden paving of King Midas’ kingdom and Camelot’s stonework, all constantly shifting and changing from day to day and hour to hour. There’s no order anymore, no constancy - like whatever, or whoever, was controlling the Underworld has abruptly stopped doing so.

He goes to Liam’s out of habit, sidestepping yellow bricks as Wonderland mushrooms sprout from the curbs. Even after the disillusionment he’s suffered in the past several weeks where his brother is concerned, Liam is still older and possibly wiser, and it’s hard to shake centuries of instinct after all. He’s been down here longer, anyways, and information tends to trickle into the bar one way or another. It doesn’t hurt either that Liam has a clearer head to process things than Killian does at the moment.

Unfortunately, Liam doesn’t have any more clue than he does, and is far too concerned trying to cut down the Dreamshade bush that’s ironically decided to sprout just outside the bar to spend his own time digging further. He’s not without ideas of how to find out, though, and that’s almost as good.

“Your lad left his storybook behind, didn’t he?” Liam asks. Killian’s a bit too emotionally weary to bother with the correction - and it’s not strictly wrong, anyways. “I know it was writing itself before. Maybe it can tell you what’s going on now, too.”

It’s a brilliant idea - one Killian is shocked that he himself didn’t think of sooner. He’s choosing to blame the worry and distraction and melancholy for that. It’s easy enough to run back to the Victorian house and up the stairs to the room that should have been Henry’s, where the leather-bound volume waits patiently on the desk where the lad had left it before his departure. Part of Killian wants to look right away, but whatever is happening to Underbrooke effects Liam just as much as him. Best they both find out together.

Liam has just finished with the damned bush when Killian gets back, not that he’s confident it will last. The place that the Dreamshade chose to sprout in this new, chaotic state of the realm is a little too ironic for Killian to believe it’s a true coincidence. At least it can’t poison anyone down here, not when all the inhabitants are already dead. He’s more than happy to set aside the gloves and pruning shears, though, to follow Killian back into the bar and take a look at the book.

“What have we got here,” Liam mutters as he flips to the last pages. Blurs of words and glimpses of colorful illustrations flash by before he lands on the desired pages. Both Killian and his brother fall silent in concentration as they read the words. Killian can only truly speak for himself, but he thinks they’re both anxious to find out what’s going on.

What they discover, however, is so much worse than Killian ever expected.

He’d expected to find out that the portal had somehow skewed the environment of the realm of the dead, or that his and Emma’s true love test had set off some kind of delayed reaction. Hell, maybe even that they’d somehow managed to link all the different realms up above for some inexplicable reason, causing that to be suddenly mirrored down below. Somehow, the truth is simultaneously more ridiculous - and infinitely more terrifying.

As it turns out, Hades was able to turn his and Emma’s failure in their quest for the ambrosia to his favor. As it turns out, true love can do some pretty powerful things. And as it turns out, Hades has managed to untether himself from the Underworld, escaping to wreck his havok instead on Storybrooke and the world beyond with the Olympian Crystal at his disposal.

Killian can’t help the sense of growing horror as he reads about how Hades had collected one of Emma’s hairs from the loft and combined it with Killian’s blood from his stay in Hades’ torture chamber to create a vial of pure true love. Now, after the fact, Killian faintly remembers reading about the Crocodile doing the same thing with Snow and David, but had never stopped to think about all the things that pure essence could do. In that moment, though, both of them were so happy just to know that their love was true; would anyone truly think about the dangerous potential this love held?

They couldn’t have known, anyways. It’s a surprise to both Killian and Liam that Hades wasn’t ruling over the departed souls by choice, but by curse, tied to the in-between world against his will and longing to return to his home on Olympus. Perhaps with a stop to take over the Land Without Magic first. And with the combination of the Crystal and bottled true love, he’d done just that. Now, with its ruler having severed his ties to the realm, the Underworld was effectively left unchecked, the landscape trying to adapt to all the different souls within its bounds all at once and dissolving into chaos instead.

“Oh, this is bad,” Liam mutters as Killian frantically flips to the next page of the book. He’s desperate to see what’s happening, to see if everyone he loves is alright, but he’s met only with blank white paper and a rising sense of panic. If Hades is planning something, Emma, her family, and all their allies will undoubtedly try to stop him, putting themselves in grave danger in the process. God, he only hopes they haven’t already. The book is his only window into their world up above, and with the page stubbornly blank after detailing Hades’ appearance in Storybrooke, he’s in the dark.

“Aye, this this bad, Brother,” Killian agrees. They’re talking in circles just repeating each other, but what else is there to say?

“Maybe it will all be fine,” Liam suggests unconvincingly. “He doesn’t need to necessarily be... plotting anything more than getting out of here. That’s possible, right?”

Killian doubts it - it seems out of character for the god who beat him into a pulp for daring to bring some semblance of hope here in the Underworld just to be in the Land Without Magic for a little sightseeing tour.

Before he can say any of that, however, King Arthur bursts into the bar, disrupting whatever semblance of peace they were pretending to possess and likely proving Killian’s point.

Instead, Killian groans, dreading the inevitable confrontation. “I need a drink,” he mutters, stalking around the bar. Unfortunately, he doesn’t move quick enough for Arthur to miss seeing his face.

“You’re dead,” he says, somehow managing to make the words sound like an accusation. “You’re supposed to be dead, I’ve seen the stone myself.”

“Aye, well, you’d know, wouldn’t you?” Killian fires back. “Seeing as you’re the one who killed me.” He quickly throws back the drink he’s poured , not at all sure what he’s actually swallowing. It hadn’t mattered at the moment - dark and alcoholic being more important in the moment than the specifics, and damn the fact that it’s not even two in the afternoon. 5 o’clock somewhere, or whatever absurd saying David and Leroy were so fond of.

“That’s right, I did,” Arthur replies, sounding disgustingly almost proud of that fact. What an arse. “But if I killed you… how am I still seeing you?” he ponders. Almost immediately, though, his expression turns from confounded to dangerous, and he harshly grabs Liam by the front of his crisp shirt. “What kind of trick is this?” he demands, shaking Liam (much to the other man’s consternation, if his brother’s expression is anything to go off of). “Tell me, demon!”

“If there’s any demon here, it’s you,” Killian bites back, moving back around the counter to try and separate the two men.

“It has to be a trick,” Arthur continues to insist. “You’re dead!”

“Yes, well, if you’re here, so are you,” Killian finally snaps, finally reaching his brother and the disgraced King. Arthur’s grip loosens in his shock, making it quite easy to pull them apart. There were probably - okay, definitely - more delicate or considerate ways he could have gone about breaking the news, but it’s hard to care too much when faced with such an absolute arse as Arthur.

Quickly, though, he pulls himself together and becomes confrontational again. Damnit. “You’re lying,” he hisses.

That’s somehow the words that mark the end of Killian’s patience. “Fine. Don’t believe me if you don’t want to, but it doesn’t change the fact: you are dead. As a doornail.” And with that, he turns back to the book, ready to sweep it back up and get as far away from Arthur as possible.

Liam, for better or worse, is more understanding. “Look, what’s the last thing you remember?” he asks, managing to put on a patient facade. Killian will give him points for that, at least, even if he’s faking it - it’s more than Killian has managed.

“I was on the Troll Bridge in your charming little town,” he snaps, “and then I was here.”

“Obviously, you’ve missed something in between,” Killian mutters under his breath, stretching over the counter to snag the bottle of whatever again. Liam flashes him an unamused look at that. Only when he raises his eyebrows, a move Killian first picked up centuries ago, does Killian understand; maybe he knows something.

He tries a little harder to suppress his knee-jerk sarcastic reactions after that, even if Arthur does deserve them.

“Think harder,” Liam coaxes. “Did you see anything else in between?”

Maybe Arthur is even more childish than Killian thought, as Liam’s encouraging yet authoritative voice actually makes him settle into thought like a scolded boy, a frown marring his face with the effort. “There was a man,” he finally says, “a tall, thin man in a striped suit.”

“Hades,” Killian supplies impatiently, only to earn another dirty look from Liam for his efforts. Git.

“Yes, that’s what he called himself,” Arthur agrees, less confrontational now that he’s concentrating. Thank the gods. “He was carrying on about having a realm to conquer, which of course I had to correct, since Storybrooke is mine —” (Killian can’t help but snort at that, Liam’s disapproval be damned - it’s just too ridiculous) — “and then he…” Arthur cuts off abruptly, sinking into the nearest chair. It’s hard not to realize what the mad king remembered.

“And then he killed you,” Killian finishes. “Snapped your neck? Crushed your heart? Smote you with the Crystal? Regardless, welcome to Underbrooke.”

Liam huffs a bit at Killian’s indelicacy, but there’s a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as well. “Regardless,” he says pointedly, “what are we going to do about the Hades situation?”

“We?” Arthur scoffs. “I don’t remember agreeing to help you… gentlemen with anything. We’re here, Hades is there; I don’t see any problem.”

Killian grits his teeth to suppress the urge to snap at Arthur. “The problem,” he grinds out, “is precisely that Hades is up in the living world. Where he has already killed you, and gods only know what other plans he has for the world at large. Tell me, don’t you have a pretty little wife in Storybrooke? How do you know something won’t happen to her if Hades is left to his own devices?” As Killian talks, he allows some of the old pirate drawl to creep back into his voice, a casual sense of danger he hasn’t had to call upon for a while. Frankly, he’s rather out of practice.

Thankfully, it still seems to work well enough on Arthur, who blanches at the words. “Fine,” he hisses. “What do you suggest we do, then?”

That stumps Killian, leaving the three men in an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Liam cuts back in again.

“What about the pages?” he suggests. “Hades obviously didn’t want anyone looking at them for a reason. Maybe it wasn’t just about the Crystal - maybe the key to defeating him is in there too.”

“Yeah, but Liam… we don’t have those pages. You threw them down the well at the Apprentice’s house, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean they’re gone,” Liam points out. “Hades was very specific that they were put in the well - not destroyed in any old fashion, specifically put in the well. I’d bet you anything he got a hold of them fully intact, it’ll just be a matter of finding them. And that’s where you come in,” he shifts to address Arthur. “You’re some sort of monarch Killian’s said, or at least you were. Where would you keep the one thing that revealed your weak spot?”

“Right where I could see it,” Arthur replies immediately, like it’s obvious. And maybe it is - Killian can’t say he wouldn’t do the same thing.

“His throne room,” Killian says immediately. “It’s the only place that makes sense.”

“I agree,” Liam replies. “I say we get down to the library as soon as possible.” When Arthur makes no move to leave, both Jones brothers waiting to make sure that the disgraced king doesn’t try to run off or double cross them again - though Killian doesn’t know who exactly Arthur would betray them to in Hades’ absence - Liam gestures sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “After you, Your Majesty.”

With the two of them glaring at him, Arthur doesn’t have much of a choice, it turns out, and reluctantly sulks to the door. Killian chooses to believe that the end justifies the means.

It’s not exactly smooth sailing getting to the library and its elevator to Hades’ cavernous lair, as they’re accosted by an unexpected and unwelcome face.

“Where are you boys off to?” Cruella simpers, striking what she must think is a seductive pose. It’s not even remotely close to that; between the bizarre dye job and the disturbingly tight pants on her chicken-like legs, not to mention the enormous fur coat of unknown origins, that was never an achievable goal.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, madam,” Liam says in that one tone of voice Killian has long since learned is just a cover for his deep-seated irritation. It makes Killian wonder what kind of interactions his brother has had with the odious Ms. DeVil in his absence to earn such an immediate response.

“Well, as the new ruler of this realm, I’d have to disagree with that,” she says, poking a flirtatious finger into Liam’s chest. Liam looks like he’d rather break the damn thing off, if his stone face and flashing eyes are anything to go by. Killian might share that sentiment, or at least feel more confident in expressing disgust, if he wasn’t so shocked by her words.

“You are not,” he scoffs. “I’m fairly certain Hades is still the ruler.”

“Ah, but he’s not here, is he? He’s off gallivanting in the living world, the lucky bastard. What I wouldn’t give for a proper new coat, not that you can get one down here.” She’s got a point - about Hades’ absence, not whatever this nonsense is about outerwear. “I saw a power vacuum, and I’ve never been against a little sucking to get to the top,” she winks. As if this whole interaction needed another level of disgusting. That’s a mental picture Killian never needed.

“Not much of a kingdom,” Arthur mutters under his breath as he looks around at the disintegrating realm around them. This never was paradise, but something about the way beanstalk vines ramble down the street, uprooting paving stones and creating tripping hazards really drives that home.

“It’s Hell, what did you expect?” Cruella tosses back flippantly. “Not my problem.”

Killian and Liam share a look at that. There’s bigger fish to fry first, but they’ll need to do something about Cruella - and especially about the chaos now running rampant in their environment - eventually. Even Arthur looks disgusted by her carelessness, and that’s really saying something.

“Anyways, I just wanted to warn you two to stay out of my way,” she continues blithely. “I remember hearing about the trouble you two gave Hades, and I won’t tolerate any of it. Unless, of course, you want to form some kind of stubble sandwich. Your new friend can join in too,” she nods to Arthur, “make it a double decker. There’s more than enough Cruella to go around, darlings.”

Killian has never considered himself to have a weak stomach, especially after a lifetime spent on the ocean waves, but those words have the impressive ability to immediately make bile rise up in his throat. Gods, he’s not sure anything has ever sounded more unpleasant.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Liam manages to somehow spit out past the disgust twisting his entire face. “Have a good day, Cruella.”

“Is she really the ruler of this place?” Arthur hisses as they walk away. He hadn’t been safe from Cruella’s wandering eyes and hands either, collecting an unfortunate slap to the arse as they’d walked past.

“Gods, I don’t even know,” Killian huffs wearily. “Makes as much sense as anything else down here, I suppose. Come on, the library’s this way.”

Maybe Killian should feel more hesitance stepping off the elevator into Hades’ lair - after all, he’s about to reenter a place he’d rather never see again, a place where he’d been subjected to unbearable tortures - but he only feels relief. This conveyance is far too similar to the one that took Emma away from him forever, and with that event still far too fresh in his mind, he’d rather face any other memory, even if it’s a bad one.

“Keep an eye out for traps,” Liam warns before they properly venture into the throne room. “I don’t trust Hades to have left this place unprotected, especially if the pages are really here.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Killian mutters sarcastically as he wanders over to investigate a collection of shelves bolted into the rock walls. It’s not like Hades’ traps can do much - they’re already dead, after all. At this point, Killian can’t even bring himself to care too much about the potential for pain, as long as one of them succeeds in finding a way to stop the crazed god.

Liam must have a sixth sense, however, because not even two minutes later, a deep growling echoes through the chamber, instantly setting them all on high alert.

“You didn’t mention anything about a hellbeast!” Arthur hisses angrily, the pompous prat. What a coward.

“Aye, well, I didn’t know there was going to be one,” Killian fires back. “I’m flattered that you think I know everything, but I assure you, that’s not the case.”

“Would you two shut up?” Liam whisper-shouts. Somewhere in the last few moments, he’s grabbed a fire poker as a makeshift weapon, though doubtless he’d rather have a sword in his hand. “Just find the damn pages, I’ll try and drive this thing off.” With those words, he darts into the tunnels stemming from the throne room to face whatever creature is supposed to be guarding this place. Personally, Killian thinks they should have offered Arthur up as bait, but then again, maybe Liam has the better idea. After all, at least Killian can be certain Liam won’t betray them or run off and leave them to their fate.

The search turns frantic with the sound of barking and growling echoing in the background. Killian abandons all pretense of careful searching, tossing things every which way and tearing the place apart in his effort to find the damn pages. You’d think there would only be so many places they could be hidden, but the possibilities prove to be endless when he’s standing in the middle of the room, looking around at all the little nooks and crannies. It doesn’t help to hear Liam swearing profusely at the far reaches of Killian’s hearing.

“Search faster!” he all but roars, darting back in to fetch a long log from where Hades keeps a woodpile by the enormous hearth.

In desperation, Killian turns to Arthur. It just doesn’t sound like Liam can hold out much longer. “Look, you may have been a shitty king, for lack of a better phrase, but you were a king,” Killian concedes. “If this was your throne room, where would you keep the book pages?”

“As close to me as possible,” Arthur replies without hesitation. “I’d want them within immediate reach in case something happened.”

“And what does that mean?”

Killian can practically see Arthur calculating as he looks around the now torn-apart room, analyzing each spot before finally settling. “The throne,” he decides, nodding towards the almost medical-looking chair Hades used for that purpose.

It takes a little tearing - alright, a lot of tearing, Killian rather taking out his aggression on the leather upholstery - but sure enough, sewn into the side are the two pages they’ve been looking for. He almost can’t believe it, but right now isn’t the time to overthink things or even read through their find, not when he can still hear the hellbeast chasing Liam around the tunnels.

“We’ve got it!” he calls, ready to get the hell out of the cavern. Even if the ceilings lift to a tall vault, being this far underground still makes him feel claustrophobic, with or without demonic animals hounding them.

“It’s about goddamn time!” Liam shouts back, sounding audibly winded. “Get out of there, I’m going to try and trap this bloody dog in the throne room.”

It sounds a little bizarre for a dog to be chasing Liam, and a bit too on-the-nose at that, but there’s no time to think about that when he and Arthur book it back through the archway and down the tunnel towards the elevator, just before Liam rounds the corner with the beast hot on his heels. Somehow, his brother manages to lead the creature in and make a tight loop before sprinting back out again, Killian barely managing to slam and bolt the metal gate behind him. As it turns out, Liam somewhat understated the matter by saying a dog was chasing him, as three snarling heads snap at the bars. Technically, a Cerberus is a dog, he supposes.

Arthur is less quick on the uptake though, peering with confusion and squinted eyes back towards the beast. “Is that…”

“Yes,” Liam says shortly, clearly in no mood to talk about the matter any further. “Let’s get out of here.”

Somehow, Killian manages to keep the missing pages in his pocket until the trio makes their way back to Liam’s bar, though he’s not sure how. He understands why - they can guarantee privacy if Liam closes the bar, unlike in the library, but that doesn’t make it any easier. At least the dimness of the elevator had made it easy to keep from caving; in the comparatively bright light outside, it’s much harder to hold out. Finally, though, they’re in the deserted bar with the doors locked and the book right next to its missing pieces.

“Alright, let’s take a look,” Liam prompts.

Seeing the words on the page is a shock though, sending Killian crashing onto a bar stool and leaving Liam rubbing a hand over his face.

“For the Olympian Crystal holds the power of life and death, mighty enough to destroy the very soul and obliterate a being into nothingness, mortals and gods alike,” Arthur reads, blissfully oblivious to how badly they’re all screwed. “Does that mean something to you?”

“It means that we delivered our only weapon right into his hands,” Killian says softly, trying not to sound quite as defeated as he feels.

“Even if things aren’t looking good, Emma and her family still deserve to know their best chance of victory,” Liam reminds him. Killian kind of appreciates the attempt to stay positive and pragmatic despite it all, even if it’s a weak attempt. “Do you know how to get this to them?”

“Henry has his own version of the storybook back up above,” Killian relates, reaching for the object in question. “I don’t know if it’ll work, but I thought if I could somehow reattach the pages…”

“I’ll grab thread and glue,” Liam immediately offers, catching on quickly. It’s unnecessary, though; as soon as Killian places the pages back where they’d been removed, he can see the paper fibers somehow knit themselves back together like they’d never been torn out.

“What now?” Arthur asks as the book’s magic recedes.

This is the hard part - admitting that there’s nothing more any of them can do. “Now, it’s up to Emma and her family.”

Killian has the highest faith in all of them, and Emma especially, but he’s not afraid to say that this may prove the greatest trial of his long existence.

———

It’s a waiting game, after that. The ever shifting environment keeps him plenty busy, trying to reassure all the souls of Underbrooke and work towards helping them move on. Arthur is a surprising help, on both fronts; though Cruella is still technically the self-proclaimed ruler of this place, Arthur seems to be attempting to fill that role more responsibly. He’s already set up a committee at the library to help people find out their unfinished business, as well as establishing a volunteer force to report daily on topography and landmark changes, where portions of the Underworld may have suddenly acquired characteristics of the Enchanted Forest or Neverland or anywhere else. Stability is much needed at the moment, and the former king’s efforts prove to be a much needed beacon of order, no matter how personally surprised Killian is to see Arthur filling that role.

“It was foretold that I would unite a broken kingdom,” he tells the Jones Brothers one night at Liam’s bar. “It just now strikes me that maybe that wasn’t Camelot after all.”

Killian’s just settling in for the evening in the rickety old house after a long day helping souls uncover their unfinished business when it happens - a wave of energy and light sweeping through the town. He’s been around Emma and her family long enough to recognize a breaking curse when he sees one. Peering outside through the front windows, the red tint has disappeared from the sky and the Neverland vines retreated from the streets again, making the place look like a peaceful replica of Storybrooke.

It’s over.

The storybook lays quietly, conveniently on the coffee table, and Killian doesn’t waste any time reaching for the tome for confirmation. Quickly flipping through to the end, the proof is there on the page - the tale of how Regina, of all people, defeated the god Hades in retaliation for the death of her sister. Killian should probably feel worse about Zelena’s demise, her soul obliterated by the power of the Crystal, but he just can’t muster it; after everything she’s done and everything she’s put them through, especially Regina and Robin, dying to save her infant daughter is probably the best redemption she could have reasonably hoped for.

Turning back a few pages, he’s relieved to see that Arthur and Zelena are the only casualties at Hades’ hands. Killian takes a moment to pause on the illustration of Emma discovering the pages he sent, stroking the page tenderly with his fingertips. His poor Swan; even in the drawing he can see her red eyes. It breaks his heart, knowing they had true love in their grasp and didn’t know it until it was too late. He’d give anything to be with her, to hold her in his arms once more, to meet their little one when he or she takes their first breath.

Still, he promised Emma he’d move on, and he intends to keep that promise for her. It’s the last thing he can give her, really.

Though it’s late, he takes a final tour through town. It’s not the same as his adopted home in the upper world, but there are recognizable features - the corner where he’d meet Emma with coffee in the mornings, the cafe so like Granny’s Diner where he was welcomed to so many family dinners, the docks where he was teaching Henry to sail. Each landmark is imbued with not-quite memories.

His final, most private goodbyes however are confined within the walls of the house that will never be a home without Emma by his side.

Will he remember all this, Killian wonders, when he’s moved on? He hopes so, never wants to forget a single second of the the far-too-short time they spent together, but who knows what paradise - or damnation - might grant him. Killian tries to imprint ever memory contained in the house into his very soul, both old and new. He relives their first real kiss one last time as he trails his hand along the patio furniture. The kitchen now holds the precious memory of learning of their child for the first time, the living room evoking visions of Henry scribbling frantically with his newfound author’s powers. Despite the memories of her time as the Dark One, Killian makes a special stop at the photo in the front hall of him and Emma dancing at the ball in Camelot, attempting to catalog every detail. She’d been so out of her element, but so beautiful with her long trailing sleeves and flowers in her hair. She’d looked every inch the angel, his angel, and Killian hadn’t been able to help but imagine another white dress and another event sometime in their future.

The upstairs bedrooms hurt the most, each full of unrealized potential and obliterated futures. The nursery with its pale yellows and greens looks ready for its tiny inhabitant, but he won’t be there to bring their little Bean home, will never rock his babe to sleep in the cushioned rocking chair. The only nights he’ll ever fall asleep with Emma in his arms in the big comfy bed in the airy master bedroom have already passed; neither of them will ever know that comfort again. He’ll never get to see the way she looks when real sunlight falls upon her face in that bed, blonde hair scattered across the crisp white sheets. Henry’s room looks ready for the lad to move in, but he’ll never get to see posters on the walls and comic books scattered on every flat surface. It’d drive Killian crazy, but he’d welcome even that if it meant more time with the ones he loves. The possibilities of what might have been seem infinite in these rooms, even more than in the rest of the house, and Killian’s sorrow at not realizing any of those daydreams is just as endless.

All too soon, Liam is at his side when Killian is fingering the intricate carvings of the crib. He hadn’t even noticed his brother come in; Liam has had a key from almost the first day, and Killian was too lost in his thoughts anyways.

“It’s time, Killian,” he says, more gently than Killian remembers hearing since they were both children. He knows his brother is right; with Hades defeated and all his loved ones safe, there’s nothing keeping him here any longer. Tonight’s goodbyes have all been leading to this moment. “Are you ready?”

“No,” Killian replies honestly, “but it’s time all the same.” It’s never going to be easier, he knows, but he’s taken the time he needs to say goodbye. There’s no sense in delaying the inevitable.

Killian had expected that they’d make their way back down to the cave Liam had brought him to before, but instead his brother leads him to the beach. When Killian asks why, Liam just shrugs.

“Something just feels right, I suppose,” he replies. “I can’t really explain it.”

Considering they’re looking to move on from their unfinished business to something better, Killian supposes that’s fitting - just following right feeling wherever it leads. He’s curious to note, too, that this stretch of beach appears so similar to the shore he and Liam washed up on after the sinking of Captain Silver’s ship, where Navy sailors discovered them straight out of indentured servitude and their lives were changed forever. This is another turning point in their lives - or afterlives, more like; it only seems appropriate to come back to this same place.

The stretch of sand seems never ending, but somehow, the monotony brings Killian a sense of peace. It breaks his heart to know that his family, his love, his children are so permanently out of his reach, but Emma’s last request had been for him to move on and find peace. He finds a semblance of comfort instead in knowing that he’s following her wishes.

As that settles into his soul, a warm glow of light engulfs their stretch of shoreline.

It’s well and truly time to move on, and Killian has finally accepted that.

———

As the blinding light recedes, Killian’s eyes can discern through the haze what appears to be a classical temple, complete with marble columns and open walls. It’s a small comfort to see Liam still standing beside him. In a realm of unknowns, his brother’s constant presence has a calming effect, Killian only barely resisting the urge to grab at his hand like they’re children again. There’s only a cloudscape beyond the columns, oddly enough, but that’s a question for another time. For the moment, Killian is more distracted by the young man in draped linens standing up to greet them.

“Liam and Killian Jones,” he declares, “We’ve been waiting a long time for you.”

“Yes, well, I wasn’t aware I had an appointment, Mister…?” Killian trails off. Liam elbows him in the side for that; the words were most likely saucier than strictly polite, but sarcasm and wit have always been Killian’s defense, and he’s far too old to abandon it now.

The young man smiles in amusement, though, making Liam’s fretting for nothing. Until, of course, he opens his mouth. “I am Zeus, King of the Gods,” he tells them.

Oh.

“Pardon my brother, sir,” Liam cuts in with a pointed look at Killian. “He often speaks before thinking.”

“Worry not - I already know, and did not take any offense,” the god assures. He’s so much younger than Killian expected, practically still baby-faced, but he supposes that makes sense. Zeus was always fabled to be the youngest of his divine siblings after all. “We’ve seen what you two have accomplished from here on Mount Olympus. You’ve done us a great service, ensuring the downfall of a tyrant. You have my thanks for that.”

(Personally, Killian thinks that if the Gods found Hades to be such a tyrant, they should have done something about the matter themselves, but it’s no his place to say. There’s no sense arguing with the god who’s thanking you, anyways.)

“It was our honor, sir,” Liam replies, bowing his head respectfully. Killian follows suit a second later; his older brother always was the more proper one.

“As a token of our gratitude,” the god continues, “I’d like to offer you both a choice. If you’re ready to move on, I’d be happy to personally guarantee you both a spot in Paradise. It’s the very least we can do, after the great service you’ve done us all.”

It’s been years since Killian thought himself worthy of eternal reward, and he must admit, he’s sorely tempted to accept the offer. He’s still a pirate, though, and the pirate within him wants the best offer he can get - if not everything offered. “A choice, you say? And what’s the other option?” Sod Liam if he thinks he’s being rude, Killian wants to know.

“The other option is a second chance. We’ve seen how hard you and your family have fought to bring you back to land of the living, and I’d like to offer you the chance to do just that, Killian. And you as well, Liam,” he adds, nodding in the elder Jones’ direction. “That would reset the slate,” he warns. “Guaranteed paradise is a one time offer. Who knows what you both might get up to in the next fifty, sixty years.”

(Killian thinks he sees the god wink in his direction on that statement, which is very… disconcerting. If valid. Still; the gods aren’t supposed to be nearly this… teasing, and Killian isn’t sure he likes it.)

All the same, his heart leaps with hope at Zeus’ offer. “You can do that?” he asks, trying not to sound too eager, trying not to let his hopes soar too high if there’s going to be untenable strings attached.

“Of course I can do it,” Zeus replies - scoffs, if you can imagine a deity doing such a thing. “I’m all-powerful. This may not be something we offer routinely, but it’s certainly within my powers. That is, if you want it.”

“Yes,” Killian rushes to reply, the time for hesitation long past. “Yes, that’s all I… yes. Yes.” In a rush, all the dreams he bid farewell to come flooding back. He’ll get to properly move into the Victorian home with the picket fence with Emma, get to see Henry become the talented writer Killian can already see budding… Gods, he’ll get to meet his child: hear their first cries and see their steps and find out whether they take after Emma or himself. He’ll get to buy Emma a proper ring and grow old together… He’ll get a lifetime. That’s all he’s ever wanted from the first time Emma kissed him and changed his world.

It suddenly sinks in, what Zeus is offering, that Liam could be granted a second chance as well, and that… well, that’s more than Killian ever even thought to dream. When he whips his head around to face his brother, though, Liam wears a gentle and apologetic smile.

“I think I’ll take your offer of Paradise, sir,” he tells Zeus, still looking at Killian. “After 300 years, I’m ready for a rest.”

“Liam…” Killian tries to start, but his brother just clasps him by his shoulders.

“I know what you’re going to say, Little Brother, what you’ll try to convince me of. But I’m tired, Killian. Maybe I could take the offer, try again, but I’m tired. It’s been so long, and I’m ready to move on. I never was particularly good with change anyways,” he jokes. It falls flat though, considering that Killian can see traces of tears at the edges of Liam’s eyes.

“You could try, though,” Killian replies, almost pleads. He’s just been reunited with his brother again after all this time; it seems impossible to say goodbye again so soon.

“Maybe, or maybe not, but it’s time, Killian. It’s time.” Stepping forward, Liam draws him into a tight hug. Killian tries his best to catalog and remember every moment, knowing this is their last hug for… Gods only know how long. Likely a very long time. This will have to tide him over for all the years to come, so he imprints ever sensation of the embrace - the exact way Liam smells (clean soap and salt air, like always, but now with a trace of the spicy rum scent he must have picked up at the bar, all meshed together in a scent that feels like childhood and comfort and home) and the exact pressure of his arms and that little divot between his shoulder blades and spine that Killian has always slotted his own arms into when hugging his brother, taking comfort in just that little height difference that lets Liam lean his head on top of Killian’s and makes him feel protected. It’s not enough time, never enough time, but it will have to be enough.

When Liam draws back again, he clasps Killian by the shoulders again, smiling and making sure to meet Killian’s eyes. “I am so proud of you, Little Brother. You hear that? So proud.” Killian smiles weakly in return, nodding as best he can until Liam seems satisfied. “You’ve got a beautiful family to get back to, with a loving lass and a son and new baby. Don’t you dare waste a single minute fretting about me.”

“But we won’t be together,” Killian reminds him. “That’s all I wanted, for so long. I still want that. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me, try a life back in Storybrooke? Otherwise, I suppose I could —”

“Absolutely not,” Liam interrupts, not even letting Killian finish his thought. “Don’t be daft.” His smile softens the words. “I’ve lived all the life I was meant to live and then some. You, on the other hand? You still have a lot to live out. We’ll meet again, hopefully many many years in the future,” he laughs, “and you can tell me all about my niece or nephew. Remember, Liam is a fantastic name for either sex.”

Killian laughs a watery chuckle at that, but nods all the same. “I’ll miss you, brother.”

Liam draws his head down for an affectionate kiss to the crown of his head. “And I you. But I promise you won’t regret it.”

Zeus must sense a shift in the conversation, as he steps back into the conversation again at that moment. “Are you ready for your reward, Killian Jones?” He asks.

Liam’s the one who answers, though, his own voice firmer as Killian still tries to put on a brave smile. “Aye. He’s ready.”

With a wave of his hand, Zeus conjures a warm circle of light to appear behind Killian. Liam squeezes his shoulder one last time as Killian turns to face the portal to his future. All he has to do is walk forward into the light and he’s got a whole life ahead of himself. Before he does, though, he twists around one last time to face his brother. “I love you, Liam.”

“I love you too, Little Brother,” Liam responds.

And with that, Killian walks forward into the blinding light.

———

It might be hours, or days, or years, but when the warm glow of Zeus’ gift recedes, Killian is standing in the cemetery.

The first thing he notices is the unmistakable beating of his own heart. After so long with nothing but a hollow emptiness sitting in his chest, a physical representation of so many lost hopes, it’s jarring to feel it thudding away again, the rhythm almost painful in its sudden return. There’s no mistaking what that pumping muscle means - that this is real, this is a second chance. He’s alive.

At a small distance, he spots a small figure sitting in front of one of the gravestones, the stripped scarf and tousled hair easily identifying them as Henry. As Killian moves closer, he spots his own name on the stone. Before he can speak, however, he hears Henry talking, apparently to the marker.

“I wrote your story last night,” he tells the stone monument, “about everything you’ve done since you got to Storybrooke.” Looking closer, Killian can see that the lad holds his beloved storybook cradled in his lap. “You saved me, you know, when you came to Neverland. I know you’d probably try to deny it if you were here, but that’s the way I see it. I think you saved Mom too, just by making her so happy.” Henry pauses for a moment, and Killian almost jumps in, but the boy continues before he gets the chance. “I just wanted to let you know that it’s over. Hades is dead, or banished, or something. We’re all safe. I know you promised Mom that you’d move on, but I bet you wouldn’t without knowing we were safe, and we are now. It’s okay, if you’re ready to move on.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, lad,” Killian finally cuts in, unable to hold back any longer. Henry twists his body around, eyes wide with shock at hearing his voice again, before scrambling to his feet in a mess of gangly, growing limbs, sending the book flying in the process. Still, Henry waits, not rushing over to him as he might have under other circumstances. Killian understands; it’s hard for him to believe this is possible either.

“Killian? Is it really you?” he asks, the eagerness in his voice tempered by hesitation - hesitation Killian is more than happy to dispel.

“Aye, lad, it’s me,” he smiles, blinking back the wetness starting to gather in his eyelashes.

That’s all the validation Henry needs as he rushes to wrap Killian in a tight embrace. He’s gotten so tall, his boy, Killian thinks as he clutches Henry tighter, now able to comfortably rest his head atop Henry’s without crouching nearly in half to do so. Somehow, in the mess of these past six months, Killian didn’t notice it. It’s easy to vow to pay closer attention now, knowing he’ll get the chance to do just that. Probably break the vow too, as he knows how busy life can get. That’s okay; he can afford it now.

“I think there’s still a few more chapters to write in that book of yours,” he chuckles as they pull away from one another. Henry’s grin splits his face nearly in two, wider than any smile Killian’s ever seen on the boy’s face. His own probably looks similar, if the almost painful tugging at the corners of his mouth is any indication.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Henry mutters into Killian’s shoulder, before suddenly pulling back with a confused look on his face. “Wait, how are you back? No, double wait, does Mom know you’re back?” When Killian shakes his head, Henry abruptly springs away, only to start tugging Killian by the arm back towards the street. “We’ve got to go, right now, then! C’mon, Killian, she’s going to be so happy!”

“Slow down, lad,” Killian chuckles. “Don’t forget your storybook.”

“Who cares? This is more important,” Henry insists, though he still lets go of Killian to go pick it up before running on ahead again. “Are you coming?” He demands impatiently, jumping on the balls of his feet.

“Lead on, my boy,” Killian laughs, “lead on.”

It’s not a long way back to the house, especially at the brisk trot Henry sets for them. Storybrooke’s a small town anyways; there’s only a few neighborhoods to choose from, and all of it very close together. Truthfully, the walk probably seems longer than it actually is due to Killian’s own eagerness to reunite with his Swan, to hold her and kiss her and know he’ll never have to let go again. Henry provides a play-by-play of the confrontation, but Killian barely hears most of it, simultaneously giddy and nervous at the prospect of this reunion. This isn’t at all what he imagined when he set out from the Underworld with his brother this morning, but it’s so much better - a dream come true, in every way - and he’s elated beyond any words to describe it.

The house here in Storybrooke (the real Storybrooke, not the convoluted version that Hades had created in the Underworld to attempt to mimic the genuine article) still looks a little like it hasn’t been lived in for far too long, but the difference here is that it also looks loved. In the Underworld, the Victorian he’d chosen for them had always looked run down and a mere inch away from collapsing around his ears. Here, the house looks strong and sturdy, merely in need of sprucing. Good bones is the phrase he thinks he’s heard Dave use before. Maybe it’s silly, and maybe it’s just a product of Killian’s renewed hope alongside his new lease on life, but he can look at the house in front of him and imagine it with a swing in that big tree and toys in the yard and a couple of rocking chairs on the front porch. In short, he can see it as a family home for years to come, just as he’d hoped back in Camelot when he and Henry had first started scouring the classifieds.

He has to trot up the front stairs two at a time to catch up with Henry after his little reminiscent moment, the teenager too impatient to wait. “Mom, you’ll never guess what happened!” Killian hears him call through the house.

Emma comes around the corner from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel and saying something to Henry. Killian doesn’t catch the words at all, too distracted by the sheer beauty of the scene before him to even move inside the doorway. Even in leggings and a t-shirt, she’s stunning, the most welcome sight he’s ever seen. Her shirt stretches just so over the bump of her stomach where their child grows, and it’s all so beautifully domestic, so perfect in its sheer mundanity that it nearly brings tears to his eyes.

There’s no time for that, though, as Henry gestures in his direction. The dish towel drops to the wayside, easily forgotten, as Emma looks up to meet his eyes.

“Killian?” she whispers with a note of disbelief in her voice.

That easily kicks him into motion, and Killian crosses the threshold in a handful of strides to meet Emma and cup her cheek to draw her into a kiss. It’s fierce in many ways, fierce with passion and longing and all the what-might-have-beens that have a chance to be again, but the desperation of their last exchange has disappeared. Now there’s just lips meeting, first in a deep press of lips and then in progressively more gentle exchanges until they finally draw apart. They probably gave Henry quite the show, but Killian can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s holding everything he ever dared to want within his arms.

“How are you here?” she asks through the laughter and the tears - happy tears, this time, tears of joy that he’s found his way back to them against all odds.

“Zeus,” he laughs right back. “A bloody god sent me back to you, back where I belong. Liam and I were ready, and when we tried to cross over —”

“I don’t care,” Emma interrupts, pressing a flurry of kisses to every inch of his face. “You’re here, and I love you, and —”

“I love you too,” he vows, over and over again. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I’m never saying goodbye ever again.”

“You’d better not,” she tells him, huffing out a happy little laugh. “We’ve got plans for you, me and Henry and baby girl.”

Killian sucks in a breath. “Baby girl?”

“Yeah,” Emma nods right back, tears spilling from her eyes. “I went to the doctor when we got back, and when he did the ultrasound… baby girl. We’re having a baby girl.”

“A girl,” he breathes in wonder. As if this day isn’t amazing enough.

“So no more heroics, alright?” Emma teases. Her tone is joking, but her eyes show her to be at least half serious. “She’s going to need you around. Henry and I too.”

“I can’t promise never to put myself in danger, especially if it’s a matter of protecting you or Henry or the Bean,” he says, moving her hand to rest over his heart, “but I promise never to leave you again if I can at all help it. I vow it, Emma.”

“Good,” she says, so reminiscent of that moment so long ago at the town line as she and Henry drove off into the unknown. That was the first time he allowed himself to embrace the full extent of his feelings and have hope that she might feel the same. “Welcome home, Killian.”

Welcome home, indeed.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs angst #my writing #If I Could See Your Face Once More #chapter 5 #there's a happy ending y'all #ouat s5b #canon divergence

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matrixaffiliate · 5 years

Text

A Twist of Fate

Co-written with @hufflepuffmarlenemckinnon

FFN and AO3

Chapter 13

Marlene awoke with Sirius' arms wrapped tightly around her, and a soft smile crossed her face as she sighed contentedly. She hadn't been this happy since…

Marlene felt her heart rate increase and the familiar closing of her throat that came with her feelings of panic. She hadn't felt like this since she was last in love. Finally, everything fell into place. She was more comfortable around him not simply because he didn't fear her, but because she was falling for him. She took comfort in his presence because of how she felt about him, not simply because he was not repulsed by her. Interestingly enough, her powers had never flowed as easily when she loved Kyril as they did currently with Sirius, though she couldn't bring herself to consider this might be love.

She was supposed to marry Giannis. She was supposed to finish this task, choose to be human, and then marry a mortal and fix all her problems. She wasn't supposed to fall in love with an equal. In the mortal world, she was already betrothed by her father's word. In the world of the gods, well, Hades and Persephone were the best examples of commitment they had, Zeus was their polar opposite, and everyone else fell somewhere in between. So if she wanted to choose her mother's world she could pull just about any example she wanted to justify her actions. But did she want to?

Marlene's father was so certain that she would be happier without the added pressure of being a demi-fate. He was positive that she would have a good life with Giannis. But Marlene couldn't deny that she had felt uneasy about the prospect of becoming human since her father had brought it up. And now that she knew she could feel at ease in the arms of an equal, well, now she was even more torn about becoming human. Her father had already promised her though. Was she willing to let him down?

She realized that those questions really didn't matter because he probably didn't reciprocate her feelings. The children of Dionysus were just as physical as their father, throwing their arms around everyone and anyone, kissing whatever cheek presented itself in the moment, the fact that Sirius had willingly laid with her as they slept was scant indication of any sort of more-than-friendly feelings. He was fated to kill the Minotaur with her, not to love her.

Sirius stirred and for a moment he pulled her closer and all her concerns seemed to briefly float away. He ran a hand over her spirals of black curls and trailed it down her arm. He kissed her head again, and Marlene almost turned her face up, just to see what it would feel like to kiss him, just to see if he would kiss her back, but she prudently decided against that level of embarrassment. They had a task to complete, and if she made it awkward now, she might also create a situation where not only she and Sirius died, but all those poor tributes as well. It was best to keep things professional, to remain in their good-natured realm of teasing and making fun of the gods. Within that realm they could both keep a clear head, they could probably make it out of this alive in that realm. So Marlene pretended to stir and turned to smile up at Sirius.

"Good morning," she chuckled as he yawned through his response.

"Good morning," he stretched and pushed the two of them up to sitting.

Marlene, now keenly aware of her feelings, was also suddenly aware of the way Sirius's muscles pulled under his skin. The fringe of his hair fell into his face making his eyes seem darker somehow. His smile acted as a balancing counterweight by bringing a glimmer of light to his eyes that drew her in towards him with a powerful force. She had to focus very hard on not succumbing to the tug of his eyes.

"We'll make port in Crete within the hour," she forced herself to start talking about their task. She needed to think of almost anything other than how attractive the demi-god before her really was when she allowed herself to notice.

"Destiny calls," he teased her and Marlene couldn't help but laugh at him.

"Let's hope our fates are happy ones," she laid her head on his shoulder and chose to just enjoy that for the moment there was no beast to kill, there was no destiny waiting for them, there was only them.

Their cell lock rattled and Sirius jumped back from her and Marlene sighed as she stood, it was time to take the next step in their task.

The port at Crete was filled with people, eager to see the tributes for the Minotaur. People made Marlene's stomach turn some days. She spotted King Minos and suddenly her foresight kicked in. She turned sharply to Sirius, who stood by her side.

"King Minos is there and he is going to do everything in his power to keep us from joining the other tributes, whatever you do, do not yield."

Sirius looked down at the King critically as the sailors secured the ship. "Has Minos ever met my father?"

Marlene shook her head, "Not that I'm aware of, why?"

Sirius smirked, "Watch and learn Miss Fate, Minos is about to find out the wine tastes as good as the grapes."

Marlene wanted to say more, but just then the sailors were shoving the tributes towards the gangplank to be presented to King Minos.

King Minos looked at the Athenian tributes with a satisfaction that made Marlene want to smack him across the face, but she was pleased to see the fear that crossed his face as his eyes beheld her.

"What is the meaning of this!" he demanded of the captain. "I will not be sending Moira down to the beast! What idiots are you to have brought Fate from Athens as tribute!"

The captain began to stammer, and as Marlene was just about to respond, Sirius threw a friendly arm around Minos.

"Minos! My dear dear King Minos. You really need to make it up to your father's place more often. Didn't you know that sweet old Fate went and found herself a luscious mortal? This pretty thing..." he reached out and pulled at one of Marlene's spiral curls, then released it so it would spring back for effect. He was playing his father to the tee. "is her daughter Marlene." Sirius made grapes grow on his necklace in a matter of seconds and pulled a bunch from it, handing it to Minos. "I'm Sirius, one of the many sons of Dionysus, by the way."

Minos looked like he had just been smacked across the face. "I don't understand, why are you here?"

Marlene gave Minos a stare that was as close to her mother's penetrating glare as she could muster. "Your games are finished. Fate has spoken, it is time to end this ridiculous sacrifice."

Minos sputtered, "My father supports this justice for my dead son!"

Marlene gave him a cold laugh, "Your father bows to my mother as we all do. The conflict between your two kingdoms is finished."

Minos was as crafty as Zeus, "Fine, give me these twelve and you and the son of Dionysus can return to Mt. Olympus assured that they will be the last."

"Do not lie to me," Marlene said in a deadly quiet voice. "If you will attempt to undermine Fate, then you will lose more than just this ridiculous display of cruelty."

Sirius sighed, "Now why did you have to go and do that?" He gave Minos's shoulder a shove, then popped a grape in his mouth. "She's a right ray of sunshine little Fate is, until you make her angry - then she's as scary as her mother." Then he leered at Minos, "Me on the other hand, I'm ever so forgiving. Unless you'd prefer to be put in your place? I wouldn't mind telling you how very naughty you've been, King Minos." He kissed Minos on the cheek and Marlene had to use every divine level of self-control she had to not start laughing right there.

"The Book of Fate declares it, and it is the task of Sirius, son of Dionysus, and myself, the daughter of Moira, to end your pettiness, in whatever way may prove necessary." She left the threat hanging in the air as she stared Minos down and Sirius popped another grape in his mouth before discarding another bunch on Minos' shoulder.

"Well," Sirius yawned before speaking almost as fast as his father. "I don't know about the rest of them, but the floor of that ship was so uncomfortable, and I certainly hope your accommodations will be better. Maybe I should have tried to sleep in the form of a dog, have you noticed that dogs seem perfectly comfortable to sleep on the floor? Do you have dogs, Minos? They've always seemed like nice creatures to me, though father always favors the Bull. I suppose that's why Fate sent me, don't you think? Do you have any wine by chance? That seems to be the only thing I can't do, I can't manage to pull wine out of thin air, but I'm sure you can't throw lightning bolts, we all lose a bit to our mortal nature, don't we? Take little Miss Fate, she's got a temper." Sirius took an enormous breath and paused. King Minos looked completely flabbergasted.

"We'll talk of this more," he looked directly at Marlene. Then he spun on his heels and stalked away.

Sirius fell into step next to Marlene as Minos' soldiers marched them to the dungeons to await their fate.

"You were amazing!" She reached out and took his hand. "I could kiss you!"

"Don't do that! I just put in way too much effort to paint you as your mother with a temper! You kiss me in front of all these people and all that effort will be wasted!" Sirius laughed but didn't release her hand. Marlene rather liked holding his hand.

"I'll play my part if you keep playing yours." She reached up to his neck and plucked a few grapes. "Because he's not going to let this go so easily."

Sirius gave her hand a half-hearted smack away from the grapes hanging from his neck. "Hey, those are part of my aesthetic!"

Marlene chuckled, "Careful, Fate's daughter has a temper."

Sirius winked down at her, "That's ok, she got me a goblet of wine the other night, I think I'm on her good side."

Marlene laughed, he definitely was on her good side.

#blackinnon #blackinnon fanfiction #sirius x marlene #sirius black x marlene mckinnon #sirius black #marlene mckinnon #harry potter fanfiction #GreekMythologyAU #GreekAU #still laughing at the antics of the Greek gods #pining #annoyances to lovers

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amemixfan · 6 years

Note

Hi!!! Can you please do "It's cold, you should take my jacket" for Atlas? Unless the prompt doesn't inspire you or something 💜💜💜

“You’re gonna catch a cold out there!” Atlas’ grumpy voice calls out from the Promise. I ignore him and extend my hand towards the falling snow. I’ve never seen real snow before, Olympus 7 never snowed, and can hardly contain my excitement. I’m all but bouncing on my feet as I watch snowflakes gather on my hand.The cold air is frigid and my jacket does little to warm me, but I still cannot let go of my excitement. “Atlas! Look! Snow!” I gather clumps of it in my hands and marvel at the way it feels. My fingers are numb, my hands are turning red, but the snow is soft to the touch. I trace burning cold trails of it on my palm and watch it melt slowly. Atlas emerges from the ship with a scowl on his face and his jacket zipped up all the way. He shakes some falling snow from his hair and glares mournfully at it. Unlike me, he doesn’t find snowflakes amusing. “Haven’t you ever seen snow before?” Atlas dusts off his jacket with one hand while holding a mug of coffee in the other. In the frosty air, the steam from the cup rises at a faster rate. I shake the snow off my jacket and wrap an arm around myself. My breath comes out in foggy wisps and I shake my head. “Olympus 7 had weather machines that controlled the temperate. I’ve never seen snow before,” I admit. Really, I’m fortunate. Orion had decided to stop at a nearby neutral planet for a quick supply run and the planet had been in the midst of its winter. It started snowing early morning, and I had dashed out of bed to see it. I shiver a little in place and inch closer to Atlas hoping he won’t notice. If he does tell that I’m getting cold, he doesn’t comment on it. His expression is still grouchy, but his green eyes are warm. It seems like he understands why I’m so excited now. “I’ve seen fake snow before,” I explain, “My Mom collected snow globes. I used to watch the snow swirl around the glass all the time wondering if I’d ever see it in person. It’s really beautiful.”I marvel at how the ground around us is being blanketed in white. The grass is disappearing beneath fluffy mountains of snow and I dig my boots into the earth and watch my tracks be covered up. Atlas winces. “You’re going to track snow all over my ship.”I grin and nudge his shoulder playfully. “You don’t like the snow?”“You try being in the military in the middle of a blizzard. We barely had a blanket to push us through,” Atlas frowns. He glances at me still shivering in place and his lips purse. His steaming mug of coffee is extended my way. “Drink up. You’re going to get pneumonia.”“That’s not how you get pneumonia but thanks,” I beam. His coffee is strong and bitter, he takes it black with no sugar, but the warming effects overpower the bad taste. I almost down it in one go feeling energized. Atlas takes the mug from me and stares down at how I’ve almost finished it. He glares at me, silently reproachful, but his face softens a few degrees once I return to collecting snowflakes.I gather some snow in my palm and mold it into a ball. Once it’s been formed enough, I try to find a target. My first though is Atlas but, as if sensing imminent danger, Atlas clenches his jaw and tells me not to even think about it. Sighing, I settle for simply flinging it at a nearby pole. It slams into the wood and falls into clumps on the ground. How anticlimactic. “Your hands are getting red,” Atlas remarks, “and you’re shivering like a leaf. It’s too cold outside to be out here.”I ignore the way my lips are getting numb from the cold. My weight shifts from side to side in an effort to grow warm. He’s right, but I don’t want to go in just yet. “Can we please stay out here longer? Just until Orion comes back with the supplies?” I clasp my hands together for warmth and peer at Atlas with my best puppy-eyes. Although he looks like he wants to argue, Atlas relents with one glance at my eyes. The puppy-dog look works every time. “Until Orion comes back,” Atlas warns, “But then we’re moving to a warmer planet.”I beam and sling an arm around his back in excitement. I reach up on my toes and press a frozen kiss to his cheek. The skin underneath my lips begins to burn and Atlas ignites in a blush. “Aww, you’re red,” I tease. My own face is also getting warm but I hope he won’t notice. Atlas glances away and begins to shrug out of his jacket. “It’s the freezing wind, don’t get any ideas. Here. You should take my jacket. It’s cold outside.”Without waiting for permission, he places the heavy bomber jacket on my shoulders. The leather is warm and it smells like him. I try to discreetly smell the motor oil and cologne. “You never let me have your jacket,” I remark. I put the jacket on properly and it falls over me. It is oversized and I trace the patches on it. Atlas rubs at his arms. He has worn a long sleeved shirt underneath his coat but I can tell he’s still cold. What a gentleman. “Well your jacket won’t protect you. If you get sick, I have to take care of you,” Atlas looks away with another dark blush across his face. I beam silently at him and inch closer so that I’m pressed to his side. “Thank you.”Atlas makes a noncommittal sound. “Are you bored yet? Do you want to go back inside? There’s not much to do with snow,” he stares mournfully at the frosted ground. I shake my head. “I want to make a snowman. Maybe I can make a snowman Atlas that glares at all the other snowmen,” I smirk to myself and begin sketching it out mentally. I can add a flask to its tree branch hand and make a frowning mouth out of pebbles. It would look cute. “If you make a snowman Atlas, I’ll make a snowman Cadey pestering it,” Atlas grumbles. I stick my tongue out at him and accidentally collect a snowflake. “Aww but the snowman Atlas would secretly love the snowman Cadey. They’d be the best snowman couple ever.”To highlight my point, I take Atlas’ hands in my own. Our fingers are numb from the cold, but holding hands brings some warmth. I lean up again and kiss Atlas’ cheek. Atlas makes a sound at the back of his throat, feigned annoyance, but I notice that he tries to inch closer to me. As soon as I draw back from the kiss, I see the way his eyes fill with affection. He may try to hide it beneath a rough exterior but he’s a sweetheart underneath. “You hand is freezing,” Atlas takes my hand and rubs it between his own to warm it, “We should really get back inside.”“You promised we’d stay out here until Orion returned,” I blush as he moves to my other hand. In the process of warming me, Atlas’ face has grown closer. If I really wanted to, I could kiss him right now. And I really, really want to. “Yeah well, I’m freezing,” Atlas fights back. He almost moves away once my hands are warm but I strike. I spring up on my tippy toes and plant a chaste peck against his mouth. Unfortunately, however, I miss and hit the corner of his mouth as he jolts in surprise. A sound leaves the back of his throat and he turns red. He stares at me in surprise as I draw back with a grin. “Fine. We should go back inside,” I try to downplay what I just did but my own face is burning. Atlas recollects himself and tugs me lightly against his frame. “You missed.”I raise an eyebrow as he taps his mouth impatiently. Trying to suppress a giddy laugh, I shake my head and try again. This time, I kiss him properly. The kiss is brief but still takes my breath away. Atlas’ hands go for my hair and mine dig into the fabric of his shirt. It is over far too soon and I move away. His taste is on my mouth and it leaves me lightheaded. I suddenly am no longer cold. My body hums with warmth and my mind is slowly delving into some very mature thoughts. I suddenly really want to go inside and warm up with Atlas. “We should go inside,” I relent. I move away from Atlas and try to push the naughty thoughts away-at least until we’re back in his room. Atlas hums and turns around. He doesn’t need any more permission to go back inside. I wait until his back is fully to me then quickly scoop down some snow and throw it at his back. It hits him with a thwack and he freezes mid-step. He turns around with a frosty glare. I feign innocence and look around as if looking for a culprit. “You just lost your hot cocoa privileges,” Atlas warns. He throws a light snowball back at me in retaliation and spins on his heels. He disappears back into the ship without another word. Worth it. I laugh and dust the snow from his attack from his jacket. My hands slip back into his pockets for warmth-And one of my hands brushes past something hard. I frown and pull out the mysterious object out of the pocket. Although I know it is wrong to snoop, I still open the box I found inside. My breath hitches immediately and surprise strikes me. Inside the little black box is an engagement ring.

#accidentally phrased the prompt wrong #request #atlas molniya #starship promise #lovestruck voltage #voltage amemix

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stellisae · 6 years

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The Promise of a Privateer: Introductions (Starship Promise Pirate AU)

Book: Starship Promise

Alternate Universe: Pirate AU

Pairing: Orion x MC (Juliette Adams)

Word Count: 2303

This is a personal writing project I’ve been working on for a while now, it’s the longest fic I’ve ever written for Lovestruck and serves as the introduction to my Pirate Alternate Universe for Starship Promise. I will use this universe interchangeably with the canon universe in some future Orion fics! This is also being posted on the last day or Orion Appreciation Week for the prompt Earth, which is AU day! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed researching for it and writing it!!

Art by @earthprincewu

My lungs were burning. I was never much of a runner and these heavy skirts certainly did nothing to help. Not when those chasing me had the freedom of trousers. I duck and weave through the twists and turns of my little town, each building and alleyway far more familiar to me than any of the soldiers behind me.

I wasn’t even sure where I was headed until the hollow echoes of my feet hitting wooden boards reach my ears and I was running along the docks where the town met the sea. The enormous Empire galleon rose out of the water before me and I quickly swerve to avoid crossing near it. Word couldn’t have reached the soldiers on the ship already but it never hurt to be safe.

The dock workers glance up as I ran by, barely having time to look startled at seeing a young woman running past before I was already gone. I move along the docks, as far from the military ships as possible, until I come upon the end of the dock that holds the private vessels who visit our port.

I hardly realize what my plan is now until I was already doing it and I head toward the first ship that isn’t guarded. The side of the sloop read ‘The Promise’ in swirling gold letters. Maybe a Promise is exactly what I needed, a Promise to get me away from these Empire soldiers.

I spy an open hatch and heft myself inside, grunting as I tumble down onto the floor of what appears to be their cargo hold. My eyes take some time to adjust to the dimness of the room and when they do I nearly jump back out the hole.

Wall to wall the room is stacked with barrels of gunpowder. Surely this was much more than a private ship needed! Not to mention an explosion waiting to happen.

At the sound of footsteps on the wood just outside this room I dive behind one of the rows of barrels. A crew this prepared to fight didn’t seem like a crew I would want to meet. The footsteps hurriedly fade away, and a moment later I hear a flurry of activity on the deck above me.

Alongside the pounding of feet over head I hear shouting, but no matter how hard I strain I can’t make out exactly what they’re saying. Mere minutes later I feel it when the ship shifts under me as it leaves the port, gently rocking as it takes off into the harbor.

Oh no.

I rush back to the port I’d crawled in through, my heart seizing up in a panic as I see my little town of Port Olympus starting to float away behind the ship.

I didn’t want to be a stowaway, just hide out for a bit until the soldiers lost me, but now…I’ve been made a stowaway by the crew themselves. A clearly dangerous crew that I now had no option but to meet. This ship isn’t big enough to hide forever, and if I want to get home I’ll need their help.

Careful to make as little noise as possible I make my way through the cargo hold, distinctly avoiding the barrels as best I could. I poke my head out through the doorway, scanning the empty hall before me. Though why I’m looking to avoid people when I’m trying to find the crew escapes me.

I enter the hallway just as aware of my sound and creep forward, my eyes flicking back and forth for any sign of the crew. I pass through a few more empty rooms and hallways until I start to wonder if there’s actually a crew at all on this ship. Then I come upon a closed door, and take a deep breath to steel myself for whatever may wait on the other side.

As I push open the door into the next room I’m greeted by the sight of a man’s bare behind and I slap my hands over my eyes as I let out a squeal of surprise. I peek through my fingers a second later, realizing that I probably shouldn’t close my eyes to a dangerous stranger.

He’s facing me now, with his trousers haphazardly pulled up around his waist, and a devilish smirk on his lips. “Looking for a show?” he asks, tossing back his shaggy blonde hair. I gape at him, opening my mouth to respond, though no words come out. “Sorry love, gorgeous as you are we don’t provide free passage. To anyone.”

He reaches forward to grab my arm, faster than I can pull away and I shout for him to let me go as he begins to tug me along through the belly of the ship. At one point we pass through the brig and his grasp on my arms tightens ever so slightly, a clear threat of what may come. That shuts me up right quick and I follow along with my head bowed.

“Seems we have a stowaway Captain,” the blonde man calls out as we reach the top deck, yanking me forward by the grip on my arm. Pulled off balance I stumble forward and bump into another one of the crew members. Instinctively I jerk back from them, but not before catching a glimpse of dark skin and silver hair under their hat.

“And what’s a stowaway doing on my ship?”

I look up at the sound of a man’s voice to see a young man, not much older than myself, swing down from the rigging, his sword already brandished. A little thrill of terror shoots up my spine at the sight of it’s sharpened edge, glinting in the sunlight.

Then I look up to his face and an altogether different kind of thrill ran through me. His coat flying out behind him as he dropped onto the deck almost gave him the appearance of an angel, and what an angelic sight he was.

His ebony hair looks tussled from the wind, and beautiful blue eyes stare me down through a handsome face. The loose shirt he wore under that coat bared just enough skin of his chest to detect the sculpted muscle underneath...

If my mother could see me now I’d get quite the lecture on thoughts that were unbecoming of a young lady.

Then I realize I’ve been standing here gawking at him for...well, I don’t even know how long. My face flushes with heat and I shrink into myself, feeling smaller than ever. Never before have I wished to be a turtle like I do in this moment.

My eyes dart around at this strange crew, noting a fourth, brunette member that had approached sometime while I was staring at the Captain. Each levels me a look that ranges from amused curiosity to open hostility. Then, realizing the question had been directed at me I stammer out, “I um...I was hiding.” Thinking better of myself I add a moment later, “sir.”

The Captain lifts a single eyebrow at me in question and asks, “hiding from what?”

“The- the Empire sir,” I answer, glancing back toward my hometown where the bright red uniforms of the Empire can be seen scuttling about the docks. Still looking for me then.

The crew visibly bristles at my words and the brown-haired crew member looks ready to throw me overboard before the dark-skinned one holds up a hand. They look me over intensely, and when they speak I jolt a little to realize they’re a woman, “she harbors no ill will towards us, Captain.”

“Who are you then then?” the Captain asks, still looking uneasy. Though I think I’ve at least managed to take one step back from the metaphorical plank. Which leaves me wondering who this woman is that he accepts her word so readily. Of course I didn’t wish them ill but...how could she sound so certain from looking at me?

“Who- who are you? Are you pirates?” I ask in return, unwilling to tell them much more until I knew what kind of unsavory sort I’d run myself into.

The blonde who’d dragged me onto the deck throws his head back and laughs heartily at that. Not pirates then. Maybe? Or maybe he was laughing that I had to ask when it was so obvious.

“More or less,” he answers, which isn’t really an answer. “I’m Jaxon, and you are…?”

He offers me a friendly smile and the compulsion to respond draws an answer from me. “Juliette Adams sir, I-I serve in the mayor’s office. The mayor of Port Olympus, my home town, and uhm...the town we just left-”

I’m about to continue rambling, drawn on by their impatient stares, until the Captain interrupts me, “and do you know what the Empire wants with your little town?”

“I, uh-” I start to answer on impulse again, and then think better of it, slapping my mouth shut. I don’t know these people and that information might just get me hurt.

“Miss Adams please, we’ve got no investment in you or your town. We aren’t going to hurt you,” the blonde speaks again, clearly trying to coerce me into answering again. Something tells me he was more the charmer of the group.

Well. Luckily for them he was good at it.

“We, uh, intercepted an Empire messenger when they docked at our port. The Empire came to claim him, and the messages he carried,” I answered, still feeling a little uncertain about sharing this with them.

“That still doesn’t explain why they were chasing you,” the fourth crew member who’d been silent up until now finally speaks up.

“Well…” I start slowly, really, really not wanting to tell them that bit of detail. “I work in the Mayor’s office as I said, and he confiscated the soldier’s missives of course, we are a port of the Union after all, and well...the Empire might have, um, caught me parsing through...their information.” They all look a little taken aback at that and the blonde’s eyebrows shoot straight up, though the others seem to control their expressions a bit better.

“So you’re a Union spy then?” the silent one speaks again in a gruff voice, and his question doesn’t really sound like he was asking. “The best place for a spy is at the bottom of the ocean.”

“I- no! What? I-” I stutter, not knowing whether I was trying to deny his claim or just argue that I definitely did not want to be put on the bottom of the ocean. I look to the Captain pleadingly and for just a second think I see his expression soften before it falls back into his hard glare.

“Atlas,” the Captain says in a warning voice. Ah, so that was his name then. “There is a difference between being a spy and just sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

I suddenly notice the breath I was holding when it comes out in a sigh of relief. At least their Captain didn’t seem to think I was a spy. “So...you’re not throwing me overboard?” I ask cautiously, prompting another laugh from the blonde. No, he’d told me his name...Jaxon it was.

“We’re not throwing you overboard,” the Captain assures me, and a see a flicker of some emotion pass his face, though whether it was amusement or irritation I’m not quite sure. “There’s another port around the peninsula. We’ll drop you off there and you can find your way from their on your own.”

“But...we’re still in the harbor. Can’t you just take me back?” I ask, my heart rate accelerating at the thought of having to find my way back to Port Olympus from who knows where by myself.

I hear Atlas growl in frustration and for the first time the Captain’s face drops into a look of incredulity. “It’s crawling with Empire, who you just said are trying to capture you, and you want to go back?” he says, his voice sounding just as disbelieving as he looks.

“Captain,” the quiet woman speaks up again for the first time throughout this conversation, instantly silencing and drawing the attention of the rest of the crew. “There is an Empire ship departing from the harbor.”

The Captain’s heavy gaze fell back to me, his striking blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Coming after you I suppose,” he speaks quietly at first and then louder as the whole crew bursts into action, “loose the sails! I do not want them to catch us!”

Each member of the crew darts in a different direction, clearly well-conditioned in how to function together. When the Captain starts to take off himself I reach forward to take hold of his elbow, and then almost immediately withdraw my hand. Best not to get it sliced off for touching the Captain.

“Sir, is there something I can do?” I ask, already feeling like a burden now that the might of that Empire galleon was about to come down on their little sloop because I had stowed away.

“Stay out of sight. Go down, hide, and hold on, this might get rough for a landlubber,” he says and gestures towards the hatch I’d been drug out of by Jaxon just a few moments ago.

I open my mouth to protest and then, remembering that he’s right and I have no idea how to sail, close it again and nod. “Aye aye Captain,” I say, surprised at the grin that spreads across my face. This situation was beyond strange but I couldn’t deny how good that felt to say.

The Captain pauses mid turn away from me, a flash of amusement crossing his features, before he says, “and call me Orion.”

#orionweek2018 #the promise of a privateer #orion akatsuki #orion x mc #orion x juliette #orion akatsuki x mc #starship promise #starship promise au #pirate au #my writing

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fuckinsteverogers · 7 years

Text

Olympus Has Fallen: Chapter 6

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Athena x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ Series

Warnings: Smut, Virgin!Athena, Cunnilingus, Rough fucking, Dirty talk, cheating but also not cheating, Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it friends), mentions of birth control (not always effective against pregnancy + definitely not effective against STD’s.)

Synopsis: Athena works for a tech company that happens to find itself with a new client, Stark Industries. Her centuries of hiding are about to be thrown out the window, but will she find allies in the Avengers at a time of crisis or will she fight alone and risk destroying herself?

Author’s Note: And it’s the first smutty chapter of the series. I wrote this ages ago and always feel bad when I’m writing poly fics because I’m very monogamous in real life, but for now it’s just Buck x Athena banging + Steve x Athena loving each other.

The entire team helped me pack up my apartment, and move everything into the van that Tony hired to officially move me into the Avengers tower. Bucky and I moved the couch, as much as he didn’t like being that close to me, and I packed my clothing into suitcases.

Tony had been the one to suggest I officially move in after the success of the mission, he was hesitant before knowing that Barton, Bucky, Scott, Sam, and Rhodey were on the fence about me, and when we had arrived in Iraqi territory and towards the end of the mission, a bullet flew straight towards Barton’s head. I had been close enough to throw myself in front of it and receive it straight in the abdomen, taking the bullet without a second through.

Barton had hugged me and thanked me for taking the bullet he hadn’t even seen coming for him. I had hugged him back and assured him I was happy to do it anytime and ran to kill a wave of terrorists running towards us.

Clint had my back for the rest of the mission and has been trusting of me for the five days we’ve been back.

The floor Tony gifted to me at the Avengers tower was big, fit with its own bathroom, living room and bedroom. They all helped me move the big furniture in and left me to unpack, all except one.

“I still don’t trust you,” Bucky growls as I unzip my suitcases and begin to unpack my clothing into the generous closet.

“I don’t expect you to be my best friend, Bucky, but I will fight alongside you as an ally,” I tell him as I move to put my massive shoe collection onto the shoe rack built into the closet. He moves to sit on my bed and watch me as I unpack.

“What you did for Clint was…” He stops and thinks, and I stop and look at him, waiting for him to find the right word. “Kind.” He says finally.

“I heal from a bullet to the head, unlike him. I wasn’t about to let him die when I could have done something,” I tell him honestly, and move to continue hanging my clothing up.

“But it hit you in the stomach?” He asks, confused. I nod, pressing my fingers into where the wound was six days ago, and rub my hand across my stomach over the cotton shirt.

“I jumped. It takes longer to heal from a head wound,” I reply, answering the question.

Bucky stays and watches as I hang my clothing up in categories, and I work on pushing the suitcases up onto the shelves above the clothes themselves, but find I’m a few inches too short to push it up; when I feel the hard chest press against my back and the hands find mine, one warm with life and the other cold.

“Thanks,” I murmur as he presses his body to the back of mine and pushes the two suitcases up there. His hot breath on the back of my neck and his hands drop once the suitcases are secure and so do mine, but he doesn’t move.

I feel guilty for liking the hot touch as his flesh hand finds my hip and lifts the cotton shirt and rubs up to where the wound was on my stomach, his hand stays there and just feels, presses against the non-existent bullet wound and his heart begins to hammer against my shoulder.

I feel him duck his head and his metal hand moves the heap of hair that lays on my shoulder and his lips find my neck, and I moan… I mean, really moan. Steve’s face flashes in my mind and the guilt returns, and I don’t know why. We have been hanging out, but we haven’t claimed to be anything. Confusion soaks me as Bucky’s hand pulls me hard against him and he nips his teeth against my collarbone.

“I still don’t like you,” he says and I reach my arm around and pull his face closer to my neck.

“That’s okay,” I reassure and feel guilty as hell as I turn and smash my mouth hard against his.

It has been more than three centuries since I’ve kissed any man and in this year alone, I’ve kissed two and I feel high on the feeling of want for someone, and I want both of them. I want Steve because he is kind and beautiful and makes me feel like I’m the most important person in the world, and I want Bucky because he is brash and honest and so sexy.

I want them for different reasons and I find myself with Bucky’s strong hands under my thighs, picking me up, and I wrap them around his strong waist and he kisses me with such fever that my head begins to spin.

He pushes me against a wall and one of his hands finds my hair pulls so hard that prickles of pain goes all the way down to my toes, and I groan so deeply it goes through my entire core.

“Fuck, Bucky,” I groan and dig my fingers into his shoulders. He mews and attacks my throat with his mouth, and I push my hips harder into him and feel his hardness as soon as my hips tilt against his.

“You make me so angry, doll, but I’ve never wanted someone so badly,” he mews into my throat and I almost cry with the words that escape his mouth.

“Bucky, Bucky,” I stammer, and push my hips harder into his and begin to roll them. His hardness moulds against my heat through my thin tights and his groan reaches all the way through me. “I’ve never…”

He stops and tries to still my hips, I look at him in surprise and he lets go of my legs and I drop to the floor. I look up at him in surprise as he backs away from me, his face is red with want.

“You’re a virgin?” Bucky cries, exasperated from what I just told me. He runs his fingers, both metal and flesh, through his hair and I lean back against the wall.

“Do you not read history books?” I ask, annoyed that he would assume I’d have been intimate with other men.

“I’m not exactly familiar with Greek Gods!” Bucky tells me forcefully, and I glare at him.

“Athena, the virgin Goddess, doesn’t ring a bell to you?” I ask, moving towards him.

He backs until his back presses against the wall opposite to the one he had pressed me against. I don’t let him avert me, and I reach and pull my shirt over my head and leave myself in tights and a bra that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. I mould myself against him and brush my hands against the hem of his shirt and move them underneath, rubbing the coldness of my hands against his washboard abs.

“Then why now?” He asks, pressing his palms against the skin of my hips. His eyes glazed with lust, and I think, why now?

“I’ve never been able to be intimate with someone who doesn’t know the real me, I’m a terrible liar, especially to those I love. You know who I am, even if you don’t like it, you still know, and I want you. Isn’t that enough?”

Bucky looks at me in surprise, and in the blink of an eye; his shirt is over his head and his lips are gnawing at my mouth. I reach and tangle my hand in his hair and pull him closer to me, so overwhelmed with want that my breasts are bare without me noticing and my broken bra on the floor.

Bucky uses the metal hand to rub one of my nipples between his fingers, and I gasp into his mouth with the feeling of the cold fingers rub my intimate part, sending waves of lust straight through my body.

“What about Steve?” He asks as I work on the buckle of his belt, and I stop for a moment to register what he said, before pulling the belt from his waistband and moving to his button and zip.

“I want him as well,” I tell Bucky honestly, and pull his pants from his waist. He steps out of them, leaving him in nothing but his briefs, and he is then pulling my tights from around my waist and kneels to remove them from my legs. “Is that okay with you?”

“As long as I get you as well,” Bucky stands and runs his flesh hand against the waistband of my lace panties.

“That’s a conversation for after,” I tell him, he nods and lifts me, moulding his mouth with mine and moves us to my made bed.

He places me down and moves over me, pressing his lips into the canal between my breasts and down the flat plain of my stomach. His eyes find mine as my mouth drops when he gives my slit a kiss through the thin lace of my panties, and with a kiss to each of my inner thighs, he begins to remove the lace.

I lift my ass to help him and as they are flung across the room, he pushes my legs wide and adds to the wetness of my slit with one thorough lick from the hole to my overly sensitive clit. The moment his tongue touches my clit, my entire body goes into overdrive and I’m arching and moaning and just want to feel a man inside me for the first time, but Bucky has other ideas.

His tongue goes back down and he begins to fuck me with it, brutally slow, and I moan through it, withering beneath the hands that hold my hips down. He doesn’t make me cum with his tongue which almost makes me disappointed, but the feeling lasts two seconds before Bucky leans up and removes his briefs and I’m face-to-face with the dick that is going to be inside me, and I feel too small compared to how big he is.

“Do you want me to…?” I ask motioning at his dick, and I don’t finish the sentence, but he knows what I mean.

“No, doll. This is about you,” he tells me, and I whimper beneath him. The arousal in my stomach heightening with the pet name, and he moves closer to me. Kissing up my neck and burying his face in my hair as he rubs the head of his dick against my slit, moving the wetness down it. “Do you have any condoms?”

“Birth control works on Gods, Buck,” I tell him, smiling as he lifts his head to look at me. I rub a hand up the stubble on his cheek and kiss his supple lips before his head finds the hole and I brace myself.

“I’ll be careful, doll,” he tells me, and I nod, trusting him even if he doesn’t trust me, and I lift my legs to wrap around his ass and he pushes, and is met with resistance.

I cringe in pain but try to relax to let him through. Inch by inch, but slowly he takes what I’ve been wanting to be taken for centuries.

Bucky stops and waits once he’s bottomed out, and he stares into the gold that’s taken over my eyes, and I press my palms into his cheeks and swipe my thumbs across the stubble on his cheeks. The connection between us runs deeply and it’s not just because we are connected by intimate body parts.

Bucky looks at me for permission before he begins to thrust again, and I nod, opening my legs wider and hooking them above his ass.

He begins to fuck me, and I groan in pleasure as his pace begins brutally, and his groans overtake the sound of my whining into his shoulder. I press my fingers hard into his shoulders and I arch into the feeling that is so much better than I had ever imagined.

Bucky fucks me hard into the mattress and I moan through it, the familiar feeling building in my stomach.

“Doll, fuck… You feel so fucking good,” He murmurs into my hair and grabs the back of my thighs to fold them up against my chest, as he kneels and fucks into me brutally.

“Buck, I’m going to cum,” I moan, my head thrown back. Bucky groans and moves my legs so the back of my knees are hooked over his arms, and thrusts hard into me.

“Shit, baby girl. Am I making this virgin pussy cum on my cock?” Buck asks, groaning the dirty words. My arousal jumps and I whimper, moving my hips back against his.

“Yes, Buck, please. Let me cum,” I moan, and whither in his arms, and as he leans down and slams into me, he says;

“Cum for me, doll. I’m right behind you,” he growls and I am thrown so far over the edge that I don’t know how to come back, and I’m not sure if I pass out or lose who I am for a couple minutes, but when I come to, Bucky has cleaned me and is gone, or at least I think.

I find my discarded shirt in the closet and pull it on, as well as my panties. I wander towards the lounge room, and the moment I get through the door, I see the blonde hair and the brown hair and I feel my heart collapse in guilt and fear.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky says, and Steve turns to look at me and a smile comes over his mouth.

“Hey…” I say hesitantly and move to sit on the armchair near them as they lounge on the sofa.

“You passed out, doll. So, I cleaned you,” Bucky tells me, a sparkle of lust in his eyes, and I flush a deep red and look hesitantly at Steve.

“I’m not mad if that’s why you’re worried,” Cap tells me, his ocean eyes on mine as I relax into the cushions and let some of the tension leak from my shoulders.

“We were talking about it actually,” Bucky informs me, and I look from the ocean blue to the darker blue of Buck’s. I quirk an eyebrow and fold my arms across my chest. “And we think we can come up with an agreement.”

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aeon-wolf · 7 years

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Betrayal - Chapter 18

Now that Lena has joined her father and the Titans against the Gods, her loyalties made clear. Her betrayal of all she once held dear haunts her every day. But she made her choice and as the war between the Gods and Titans draws near, Lena’s allegiances will be put to the test. Does she help bring about the end of the reign of the Gods? Or will her love for Kara Danvers and the friendships she made along the way be enough to stop the daughter of Hyperion.

A PJO inspired Supercorp series. Part Two: Betrayal.

Click here to read on AO3.

Lena burst through the walls that Demos had erected to defend against the third attack. The entrance hall was empty of any Olympian halfbloods which was a shift in strategy, but Lena followed the rest of her forces who were swarming into the courtyard, only for her to see monsters disintegrating left and right as bronze-tipped arrows flew towards them. Most of the projectiles bounced harmlessly off her armor, as their own archers returned fire, hitting a couple. Lena’s eyes scanned the battlefield.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mon-El engaging one of her own halfbloods, Mon-El obviously outclassed who he was fighting. Lena rolled her eyes but didn’t dwell too long. Lena suddenly heard the whipping of a dagger flying in her direction. She rolled out of the way, the dagger flying harmlessly over her. She looked in the direction of where it came from to see Maggie twirling another one in her hand, a smirk on her face.

“Didn’t think you’d see me again did you?” Maggie taunted. Lena scowled.

“Fate has a funny way of making my path cross with those from the past.” Lena retorted. Maggie chuckled.

“I suppose so. I’m surprised you’re alive. That poison Alex stuck in you was pretty potent stuff. But I guess I shouldn’t be, you always were one of the toughest kids I knew.” Lena just shrugged.

“And I don’t intend on that changing anytime soon.” She said. “Just walk away Maggie, I don’t want to hurt you.” She tried. Maggie laughed.

“You’re leading an unstoppable force against my home, Lena. You think that I’m just going to give up and let that go?” A look of sadness crossed her face. “You were once one of us. What happened Little Luthor?” Lena flinched.

“I’m giving you the opportunity to walk away from a fight you know you can’t win,” Lena said, ignoring Maggie’s question. Maggie shook her head and sighed.

“I wish it were that simple. But as it is, someone else is looking forward to fighting you and I would not want to get in their way. So I’ll let you two have at it.” Maggie said, pressing her finger to an implant in her ear. Lena frowned as Maggie walked away from Lena, going after some monsters instead.

Suddenly, she heard a whoosh of air behind her. Lena spun around to see Kara standing directly behind her. She jumped backward, a little startled, gripping her swords a little tighter. “Kara,” Lena said. The demititan looked at Kara, who had also upgraded her armor since the last time they had fought. Not unlike Lena’s suit, a bodysuit covered in red and blue metal plating instead of gold, broadsword in her hand. But what was perhaps more striking about Kara was the power Lena could feel from being in her presence. The growth from the last time they had met. Kara had quite obviously been training hard and honing her power. It still did not match Lena’s raw power, but Lena took a step back, a little in awe.

“Lena,” Kara replied. “You look… recovered.” Lena laughed a little.

“Your sister did quite a number on me. I’m almost impressed.” Lena said. “You know you can’t withstand another assault on the school. Why do you continue to fight?” Lena asked as the two began to circle each other, both with incredible patience.

“Why do you?” Kara responded. “You know that the Titans are evil Lena. The talks we used to have, I know the real you. You’re just scared.” Kara tried. Lena snorted.

“You’re right Kara. I am. But what other choices do I have? Join you and the Gods? You know I can’t do that. That’s beyond suicidal Kara.” Lena exclaimed, deciding to engage, stepping forward to swing her swords at Kara, who easily blocked and parried. Lena, who had also been working on using her powers more in combat, created a small light shield, blocking Kara’s blow, her blade bouncing harmlessly off of the glowing shield.

“You’d have me. You’d have James. Mon-El. Winn. Even Alex and Maggie. We’re your friends Lena. And I still… we never got to explore what our relationship meant. What it was. I know you don’t trust us. The Gods. But I’ve never given up on you.” Kara said, using her enhanced speed to blur towards Lena, launching an overhead swing at Lena, who was able to match Kara’s speed, blocked the blow with both blades, shoving it aside, swinging from the side at Kara. The daughter of Zeus lept back, propelled by air currents to avoid the blades, landing gracefully a couple yards away from Lena.

Lena ran forward, flashing her powers to disorient Kara briefly before attempting to strike. Unfortunately, Kara had thought ahead and planned for that, having Winn design some special lenses for her to wear that would help, tech that he had originally designed to make flash grenades less effective. “It doesn’t matter anymore Kara,” Lena said curtly as she swung her blades, though Kara was easily able to block, and retaliate with her own attack. The two traded blows for seemingly hours, though in reality, it was only a few minutes.

“Lena, please. Just stop. Talk to me” Kara pled. Both girls were panting, not from physical exertion, but by the toll using their powers was taking. While both of them had improved in using their powers and pushing them further, they still had a human constitution.

Lena just shook her head slowly. “It’s too late for that Kara. You can’t save everyone. It’s a lesson that I don’t think you’ve ever learned.” She launched another attack, blurring forward feinting to the left before blurring quickly behind Kara to strike her from behind. Luckily, Kara’s armor was able to take most of the blow, though Kara was a little bruised from the attack as she flew forward from the force of the attack. Lena pressed her advantage, blurring towards where Kara was on the ground, striking down towards Kara. Though at the last minute, Kara was oriented enough to block the blow with her own sword, pressing back against Lena’s own.

Lena stood over Kara, trying to force her advantage. So much so that she didn’t see Kara kick her leg, causing Lena to lose her balance, allowing Kara to use her strength to push back against Lena’s blades, knocking them both out of her hands, flipping their positions to where Kara was stood above Lena. The demititan reached for her swords that had fallen to the ground, but Kara kicked them out of reach before planting a boot firmly on Lena’s chest, preventing her from moving. She pointed her sword at Lena who was on her back, underneath Kara’s boot. Lena looked up at Kara. The blonde saw something that she never thought she would see. Defeat. Kara frowned. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” Kara said. “I can help you. If you’d just trust me.”

Lena sighed. “I do trust you, Kara. It’s everyone else that I don’t. Just kill me and get it over with. It’ll be easier for everyone. The Titans don’t really care about me besides being a pawn. The Gods want me dead. Even your own sister wants me dead.” Lena said bitterly. “I’m beyond caring about fighting back anymore. In fact, at this point, it would be a release. I know the role the Gods assigned you.”

Kara rest the tip of her sword against Lena’s neck. But Kara hesitated, knowing that the Gods, or at least her father, would certainly be furious with her for not doing what they set her out to do. But how could she kill the one person she loved? But before Kara had a chance to make her decision, a very fast and hard body slammed into her, throwing her off her feet and crashing into the ground, making a cratering skid mark on the ground, her back covered in the rubble. Kara looked up to see an almost scrawny looking halfblood looking down at her, sneering. “So you’re the chosen of the Gods. Rather pathetic thing, aren’t you?’ He spat, before looking down at Lena.

Lena looked up, frowning, not recognizing the halfblood that had thrown Kara aside so easily. Her eyes widened slightly at seeing her own yellow, orange and red eyes looking back at her. How her father could have hidden from her she wasn’t really sure, but it was unmistakable that it was him. Lena glanced over at Kara, who was struggling to shake off the sudden attack. “I don’t know who you are, but this has nothing to do with you,” Kara said, shaking her head.

“That’s where you’re wrong halfblood. This has everything to do with me.” He said coldly. His eyes glowed gold again, his form shimmering until he changed back to his natural form, his red cape hanging from his shoulders, his large golden sword in his hand, helmet covering his head. Kara’s eyes clouded over in a little fear. “You are my daughter’s one remaining weakness. One that it seems I will have to take care of myself.” Hyperion said, stalking towards Kara who was scrambling to get to her feet.

“You don’t even care about her!” Kara said. “You’re just using her to get to Olympus.” Hyperion laughed.

“She knows that. And yet here she is, at my side.” Hyperion glanced back at his daughter who was frozen in place. “I will deal with you later.” He sneered before turning back to Kara. “Now, what to do with you?” Hyperion laughed coldly. He blurred toward her, faster than even Kara could follow, readying to strike her down, though Kara managed to just barely parry his blow, using her powers to fly up above him. “I see the Gods have granted you what little of our power they had.” He chuckled. “Unfortunately for you…” Hyperion said, his hand glowing white before Kara suddenly felt a force pulling her power from her body, making her exert more of her energy to remain in the sky. She used what energy she had to land safely, feeling more winded than she had. Hyperion stalked towards her, making a show of swinging his blade at her, allowing Kara to struggle to block it, pressing his strength though with Kara’s own enhanced strength, she was able to withstand it better than most halfbloods could have. “Pathetic.” Hyperion spat. “To think my daughter is in love with you. I’ll make sure to purge her of this weakness. It’s only a pity that you won’t live to see what she will be without you. With you out of the way, we’re one step closer to destroying your so-called Gods.” Hyperion said, his eyes glowing red, forcing Kara to the ground, struggling to keep Hyperion from striking her down. But she knew that even with her enhanced powers she didn’t stand a chance against a true Titan. And without them, she was like a bug on the sidewalk.

“My daughter is stronger than you can ever dream to be. And you're less than worthy of her.” Hyperion whispered to Kara. “She will be even stronger than you are out of the way. I will enjoy killing you in front of her. Destroying the only weakness she has left. Making her watch. Her anger and pain consuming her. She will be unstoppable.” Hyperion said, almost a tone of glee in his voice.

Suddenly, Hyperion felt a sharp pain in the back of his calf, yelling as something threw him away from Kara and into the ground, creating a crater, not unlike the one Kara had made. Kara collapsed onto the ground, clearly out of energy and weak. Hyperion pulled himself up off the ground, looking for who dared interfered, narrowing his eyes when he saw Lena tucking her dagger away in her armor, drawing both swords and standing in front of Kara. “I’m not going to let you touch her.” Lena spat.

“This is a mistake you do not want to make Lena,” Hyperion said dangerously. Lena’s expression hardened.

“No. I’m sure the only mistake I ever made was believing that living my life in fear from my own father was better than risking my life for someone I actually love. I guess I should thank you for making me realize that.” Lena retorted. Hyperion’s eyes flared.

“So be it. Kronos was right. Your humanity makes you strong Lena. And yet it makes you weak. And after everything, I think I will enjoy ripping it from you. There are many things in this world worse than death. And you are not going to get that release.” He spat, blurring towards her. Lena parried, giving herself to her anger at her father. Everything he had put her through in the last few years; belittling her, abusing her, cutting off everything that she ever cared about, trying to break her. Roulette and Koios’ words coming back to her.

“You were truly happy with Kara. Don’t you deserve that?

Your heart will lead you down the path to your destiny.

Lena pushed herself more than she ever had before, pushing her speed to be able to avoid her father’s incoming attack and following up with her own. She was relentless with her speed against Hyperion. He had always relied more on strength than on speed, something Lena was very aware of. After over two years of training with him, she knew the ins and outs of his strategies, strengths, and weaknesses.

Kara struggled to look up, seeing Lena blurring in and out of her vision, launching attack after attack on her father who seemed to be able to keep up with her attacks, but Kara could see some surprise in his eyes. Finally, Lena came into clear focus, her swords clashing against Hyperion’s single blade, using her anger and pain fueled strength, forcing her father down. Lena could see Hyperion struggling under her, but she knew that she couldn’t sustain it for long.

Lena suddenly let go of her right sword, dropping it, her dagger sliding into her hand as she reached past his sword, stabbing his right side, a small chink in his armor that very few people knew about, dragging the dagger up an inch or two. He roared, his golden blood dripping from the deep wound as he used his left arm to push against Lena’s weakened attack, throwing her off, his sword disappearing as he covered his wound, panting a little, wincing at the pain. Lena stood in front of him, swords drawn, ready for anything.

“This isn’t over Lena.” He said coldly. “I’m… disappointed. We will remember your choice.” He sneered, even while injured as he shimmered, disappearing, probably to lick his wounds, and maybe more importantly, his pride. Lena frowned, knowing that he spoke the truth, that it was not over and in fact, it was only the beginning of a new chapter for her. Lena, looking around and not seeing any threats, jogged over to Kara who was still collapsed on the ground. She offered her hand to Kara, who took it and got to her feet, with Lena’s help.

“I....” Kara started. “Thank you.” She said. “You… saved me.” Lena gave Kara a small smile.

“You can’t save everyone, Kara,” Lena said, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “But I wasn’t going to let him kill you.” Kara was about to respond when a yell echoed throughout the quad.

“Retreat! The school is lost.” Mon-El yelled, rallying everyone to fall back to the base of operations they had set up as a contingency. Kara glanced over at the sight of her friends retreating.

“Come with us,” Kara said. Lena gave her a skeptical look. “I’m serious. You know the Titans better than anyone. You’ve seen what they’re like. What their operation is like. You can help us. You can’t go back there. You heard… your father.” Kara tried to reason with Lena. The demititan just shook her head.

“You know as well as I do that I won’t exactly be welcomed back with open arms, Kara,” Lena said. Kara shrugged.

“Well, you can’t survive on your own either. They’ll hunt you down. Look. I wasn’t able to be there for you then. I know that. For two years you endured things I could only dream of in my nightmares. But I want to be there for you now. Let me prove it to you.” Kara said, offering her own hand to Lena. The demititan eyed it carefully.

“Understand this Kara,” Lena said, pausing as Kara nodded. “I’m not doing this for the Gods. I’m not doing this for your friends. I will never support the Gods again. I’ll stand by you because you’re right, I still love you.” Lena said as Kara watched her eyes flash the greenish blue they once were. Kara gave Lena a small smile as Lena took Kara’s hand.

“I can live with that.” She said as she squeezed Lena's hand, letting go as she ran off, Lena in close pursuit, hoping that she had made the right choice.

Yo. And here lies the ending of Betrayal, may it rest in peace. Jokes. So I’ve been trying to chip away at this for the last month or two (this and the last chapter used to be the same, then I broke it up) and finally found the drive to actually finish it. Now that I’ve actually written and read it, I feel like although I tried to set this all up properly because my motivations started waning a few chapters ago, I didn’t get it quite right. Oh well, what’s done is done. I’ve had this eventuality; Lena’s betrayal of Hyperion and the Titans planned from the very start.

No, I don’t have a plan or timeline for the next part. As you all have figured out by now, Supercorp is not something I spend a lot of time on anymore. Though, I feel a sense of responsibility to finish this series before hanging it up for a while. Perhaps seeing S3 gifs everywhere, it’ll give me some inspiration.

I’m sorry for how long this has taken and perhaps how sporadic this ending is. But I promised to someone I wouldn’t kill off any major characters and as this is a Supercorp series, they’ve got to actually get together at some point. If anyone has ideas for Redemption feel free to contact me somehow. Won’t promise I’ll use them, but at this point, any ideas would be nice.

#supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #supergirl #pjo inspired #fanfiction #story #update #chapter 18 #'

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bearpillowmonster · 5 years

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Kingdom Hearts 3 Full Review

Here I am 6 years later and I've beaten Kingdom Hearts 3. Was it worth it? What did I think of it? This will be an extensive review. So bare with me because I'm going to cover almost every little detail however I'm going to try and keep it spoiler free in terms of story! (I'll nod to the people who finished it with vague comments as you already know what happens) I spent a lot of time on this review so it will work out to fully explain my thoughts on this game without hesitation, I don't want to hold back from criticism even though it's my favorite franchise and the most long awaited game for me.

I will say this to both people who haven't played the games and casual fans. DON'T COMPLAIN YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IN THE STORY. The negligence of some of these reviews is appalling because they haven't played the past games. Square Enix has went out of their way to go and rerelease all of the games ebfore the release of this one, put up a summary video, put nods in the intro to the game. As well as put seperate summaries in the menu of the game, so I don't want to hear the whining, if you want to play it so bad, play the other games first, that's all there is to it. Yes it is confusing, but make an effort to understand it.

There are no more pesky text boxes like the other games, this is all cutscenes baby! So it may seem like a lot but think how many text box scenes were in the previous games and translate those into full cutscenes.

Let's talk about the menu. Yes, the menu. It's BRILLIANT. I love the transition from the past games, you look at the first two games, Sora with that fish in his mouth looking to the side, then the second with Sora turning slightly but with a sea salt ice cream, and now we have Sora turned all the way around with a paopu fruit. The way the music is presented is excellent, I couldn't get enough of it. In fact a lot of the music is great, both Utada songs are top notch despite me not originally seeing why she made those songs specifically, they make some sense now. Now the actual battle themes and stuff were instant classics for me in KH2, I would unintentionally hum some of the tunes, in this game I might have to get used to them though and familiarize myself. I'm sure if I heard the theme out in the open, I would recognize it though.

I worked my way to try each of the keyblades a decent amount (about one world each and that don't need unlocked through version exclusives and Ultima weapon yet but I never get ultima weapon anyway) The fun part about that is that each keyblade has a different ability and a different form so no more drives. I especially love using all of them in the Monsters world because it changes the color of Monster Sora.

I'm not going to talk about all of the worlds but just the ones revealed through trailers because I want you to experience them blindly or to their full capacity without the knowledge of what's ahead so I won't mention anything in any particular order either. I'm going to refer to the movie they are from and not the actual world name, to make it easier on you. Let's start with Pooh since that was the shortest. The minigames are just eh, I mean I love Pooh as a character and I like the idea that he's in the games but I've never really found his actual world all that because it's just minigames, I can't really bash it because that's what they did in the past games. Also at the end of Winnie the Pooh, why was that happening? Was something made to throw us off?

Now let's talk Twilight Town. I love Twilight Town, it is my favorite non-Disney world to explore in Kingdom Hearts 2 and when I saw we would return and see the characters we love, I got all excited. This Twilight Town however seems kind of condensed because it's just a section of it. You don't get to explore as much of Twilight Town as I would have liked but they do make references to it through the townspeople such as mentioning Seifer. There's a certain group of characters we saw a lack of but after the secret ending I'm starting to understand story-wise.

Frozen. We all saw it coming and I can say to you that it's not a rhythm based world. YAY. They do sing at times but you don't play those parts. I just think Frozen is ok as a movie so this world wasn't too hyped, I did like seeing Marshmallow though, that part is fun in fact any part you fight an actual Disney character I just adore. As for the actual landscape, it's different than I would have imagined, the heartless are interesting but there's no draw back to make me want to go back to that world. This, technically Pirates, and Tangled are the two world that just follow the movie plot, the others have their own new plot.

Toy Story. I have to say that I like the Toy Story 2 game and I really like the idea of exploring the Toy Story world, even just exploring Andy's house. I knew we weren't going to see the whole house like TS2 but it was still fun to see everything there as I remember it. Galaxy Toys is a new area though, pretty cool to play through because it's not hard to navigate, there are 3 floors and you go through all the stores, interact with objects, and get this really cool and interesting mini boss. There are these mech robot things that I've come to love and each color has a different ability, making it just that much more fun to play around in. I particulary like the purple one because it's the fastest but even when you're in a keyblade form the mech will change colors with you (usually a bluish green in my experience) but that was a cool little tidbit I noticed. The story just surprised me with how involved it became with it's characters especially Woody.

Pirates. This opens so nice, it begins with Sora being excited to be brought back and then we eventually get a mini-boss (there are quite a few compared to the other worlds) where you can ride the heartless, that's really cool. We get some ship gameplay where you can shoot down other ships and basically sail around all the islands, they aren't all required so exploration is pretty vast. A really cool idea is that with the shotlock command you can shoot on over to wherever it can lock onto, that way instead of making your way all the way back to the ship then trying to find a way to climb back up it, you just use the shotlock and boom you're back!

In the Tangled world, it takes the time to show you some of its great design with Rapunzel pointing things out such as how nice the grass is and how when you use Aero on the dandelions, they fly all over the place, then you can splash in the water, it's her first time experiencing it but it's also a nod from the developers showing you the amount of work they put into it and it's well deserved.

Monsters Inc. I mentioned about how the forms change the color of your monster and I really adore that. You can actually go into Roz's place! There are some places that would be interesting to see but wouldn't do much for story, just be to explore so I can kind of see why they aren't in the game, same with Big Hero 6. This is where the railriding really comes into action and I must say is pretty fun. There is also a dive option when you get up to a certain height then it will have you free fall and you can press X to dive bomb, it's all over the place in this game but it's just another good addition.

Olympus. Not the Colessium, we saw that before. This is brand new ground and is quite a joy to explore, I would be disappointed if Greece didn't actually look like that. I beat it the first night I had the game and I've revisited multiple times for other content, this was essentially my first impression of the game as well as everyone elses and it delivers. This as well as Tangled have a town full of people. I love hearing the little conversations they have and even going around and interacting with them. There's a side mission to collect these Golden Herc dolls (I finished after the game) that reminds me of the odd jobs at the beginning of KH2 that I actually have come to love, however those were mandatory, these are optional.

The Gummi Ship system is awesome, I mean I don't see any multiplayer coming to this but it's fun. I like being able to customize my own gummi ships and unlock new parts to put on it. The only complaint I have with it is small and that's when you're creating a gummi ship, it's not always easy to know which way is up considering you can change all different angles, so you may end up building your gummi ship upside down if you don't pay attention when you start. I've saw this problem quite a bit in the community as well as experienced that mistake myself but it's nothing too major, can probably be fixed in a future patch to just have a little note pop up that says "This is the front". Big Hero 6 is the best world in my opinion. I love all the worlds in their own unique way but this has momentum. A lot of the worlds have their own original story but this one seems to use that to the best effect. This one has an atmosphere that is open and easy to navigate, it's all one big area. You can fly with Baymax during a certain part which I would have loved to do that all the time but then what would be the point in using your fly ability you get at the end of the game?

At a certain part at the end we see some of the heartless move slower, like the framerate is down. It does not affect your gameplay and the thing I'm talking about is only visible stuff, but once you reach that part you will understand why it's like that. Voice acting is pretty good, they didn't get all the same voice actors for some of the characters such as Buzz and Woody, Mike and Sully, etc but they got a pretty decent amount of the characters their original voice actors and I respect that. The ones that are standing in, do a really good job though to the point I had to actually listen to try and find faults that differ from the originals. Old man Xehanort also has a new voice actor, I mean nobody can beat Leonard Nimoy but this guy seems to do a different take on the way the character sounds so it might take some getting used to but it's nothing bad just different I guess. I think they should've given you more space in your camera because there's a whopping 90 hidden mickeys and 100 slots, so you better make those 10 extras count if you want to get that secret ending. (However you can delete pictures so I don't know if the hidden mickey still counts if you delete it but I wasn't risking it) If you try to take a picture of a character (mostly any character) they will pose or smile, I love that.

Kairi doesn't get enough. I'll be honest. We don't get enough Kairi, she was great in this game and we see her grow, in fact I'll argue we probably see her more than the other games but they could have given her more spotlight.

The final battle is interesting, I like how it turned out but I will say you take on a lot at once. I liked the change of pace, but at the very end with the final 4, I say you should have taken them one by one. I also expected a different order because (we all knew this was coming so it's not a spoiler) but I thought they were going to make us fight Xemnas and Ansem then Old Man Xehanort because if we beat Young Xehanort first then wouldn't they all disappear? I mean it does work out in a way that makes sense but I just would have liked that way too.

Also aging, we can see visible changes to Sora, Kairi, and Riku from age but what about the rest? Will it just continue like nothing ever went wrong or…I mean they left a few things open for future games but don’t think they ended it on a cliffhanger to where you feel cheated in any way. It’s not like that, it still makes you want to play future games without cheating you of the full experience. I know that’s a concern for some people. Critical mode doesn’t make an appearance but that’s fine, if they end up releasing it in a patch or something I might play it but it’s nothing bad, just some people complain about it and say that they left it out on purpose for DLC but I highly doubt that and even if they do put it in a DLC be rest assured that won’t be the only thing. I don’t know Square Enix to cheat fans, you get what you pay for and DLC is a new avenue for KH if it decides to go that way, if it does I’ll be there for it but I think it’s fine without it. Look at FFXV for example, they put out full episodes based on the side characters with new gameplay, story, and various weapons and skins, I’d say that’s a pretty good deal and if I get far enough in the game I might get it and I’m not one who buys DLC at all unless it comes with the deluxe edition. So stop complaining about that, you don’t know what will come of this game.

I love the recovery command, I never used it in the older games (inexperienced noob) but this is more or less my first experience getting strategic. As well as the kupo coin where you get one last shot after a fatal blow. I can't tell if I actually got good at the game or it's just that easy but because of that Kupo Coin, I only actually died once or twice.

I cried. Once (before all the soras ;)) and of course at the end and even just thinking about the end afterwards. They throw back to one of the most well known gameplay parts in KH2 and in my opinion made it even better. Goofy is the smartest one in this game, like I found myself surprised at how aware he was. I knew the Big Hero 6 keyblade would be my favorite the moment I saw it in the trailer, I was right, I played with it until the very end and upgraded it (The monsters keyblade is a close second along with the one you get from Classic Kingdom). However...the snowball is the most powerful weapon hands down.

Flowmotion is fixed, but the shimmer effect doesn't need to exist. The sparklies that indicate that you just hold the control stick in that direction and they'll parkour it wasn't always as functional as you might like, I found myself just jumping my way up whatever villain had it some of the time, but again it's no big deal, it gives you that freedom to do whatever you want.

The attraction flows are fun but what threw me off is that you get more or less all of them from the start, you don't progressively unlock them. This led me to think that they will get repetitive but no they really weren't, I ended up skipping some of the events from time to time just to challenge myself but I never found myself bored with playing with any of them. I will say that once the command pops up, there can be another one above it and there's a time limit for each of them, I actually didn't know that you can choose between reaction commands (using L2) until after I finished it...so that happened. As well as learning that you can change keyblades on the fly just using the D-Pad.

My favorite attraction is either the teacups or the Buzz Lightyear blasters because the train is awesome but you only get to use it in certain parts of the game. The worst one is probably the carousel in my opinion just because it's more rhythm based and overall doesn't seem to do much damage. Some of the finishers get stuck or caught and I think that's a little bit of a problem, like the Pegasus chariot that you get with the Hero's Origin keyblade; I wish you could actually control that rather than Pegasus doing whatever and you just press X but there's such a variety of them so there's bound to be a few that aren't as good.

This game reminded me why Sora was originally my favorite character. You can look at him as naive but it's part of his character, I actually want to be friends with this dude in real life. All of them really but Sora has that vibe where he'll accept just about anything and find a way to work through it. You can play as a few of the characters and they all feel different to me, I like the subtle differences in gameplay but having the same core, it's very fun which makes me wish there was more of us playing as them.

How does it stack up versus the rest of the games? Well it's hard for me to say because I love them all, KH2 is my favorite game of all time and this is actually giving it a run for it's money. I do like this better than KH1 though (KH1 is my second favorite KH game so it's better than the rest too)

The graphics are impeccable, like I literally can't say they could have made this look any better, even going farther into the game it almost looks better than the rest (given there are more higher quality cutscenes such as the end of the Disney worlds just because of their importance) I was a bit worried about a few of the characters from the trailers such as Xemnas and Young Xehanort. In the earlier trailers they looked just eh but in the actual game they look way way better. Mickey even has fuzz on the top of his head but just by the secret ending alone, I was blown away by how real it looked for a cartoonish styled game.

Speaking of the secret ending I mentioned earlier, it took a hot minute to realize what it meant exactly, until I found a post on tumblr (on reddit too) about it. I won't link it or anything but just know there's an explanation/theory out there if you end up watching it. It makes me give it more credit for what it's worth.

Now the big part...how long was it? I won't tell you how long it took me to beat but I will say it logged more hours than any of the other games. I knew this was coming, because no matter how long this game was, I was going to want more, I'm actually going back to play through some stuff since it lets you keep your stats and puts you back before the final bit, so I will keep playing it and I will more than definitley play it again. I've played the beginning of the first game so many times, just haven't beaten it as much, same with KH2 (though I always end up farther in KH2 than 1) . I want to challenge myself, I want to take on hard mode, see how far it goes since I beat standard already, collect the secret reports, get ultima weapon (first time in a KH game if I can beat this stupid Frozen minigame). I kind of see where they changed some stuff from its original state, perhaps way back from the conception in 2013 but still to see the growth and adaption makes me feel really connected to it.

I will probably post updates to the review whenever the DLC comes out or once I get level 99, ultima keyblade, etc. so take what you will with it. It is currently up there with my favorite games of all time which isn’t so easy to get to.

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ulyssesredux · 8 years

Text

Nausicaa

How may the duke; and they would have a beautiful calm without a necktie. Children's hands always round them. What sense had I of her life because Gerty could see all the world they played for. You would be to him now make him shrivel up on the shelf and the way he turned the bicycle races in Trinity college to study for the general enemy Ottoman. Well? —must be horrible for them, with truant vows to her mate, as folks often said, well said. My lord, you know she said, she will to virtuous Desdemona procure me some poison, strangle her in his wantonness! It's so hard to know, sir, you have had a foot like Gerty MacDowell yearns in vain. Fie, fie! Were those nightclouds there all the heart? Always see a fellow's weak point in his sheltering arms, strain her to make a complimental assault upon him, her dreamhusband, because that was sitting. Brabantio. He supp'd at my house; I'll intermingle every thing includes itself in power, Must kiss their own two selves and before he went out of whorish loins are pleas'd to breed out your tongue.

Cause of half the power to do you, come your ways; an she were not for Rhodes. O my! But, in ballrooms, chandeliers, avenues under the lamps. Please keep off the twins' caps and tidied their hair to make a very great difference? —will with great speed of judgment, niece! And those boils did run? I am worth no worse nor better guard but with care and who that knows the fluttering hopes and fears of sweet seventeen though Gerty would never understand what he shall unbolt the gates. It is no more i' the orchard. Bathwater too. If he were forgot; and, in view of trojans and of his deep passionate nature and we lay by our Ajax: as many farewells as be here of pander's hall, your trusty and most illustrious, six, eight, nine. Princes, what bloody business ever. Is it possible? My lord, I'll hunt thee for an instant there was absolution so long as it so. Now he was laid to rest once in a woman loses a charm with every joint a wound, and then Cissy popped up her father, will you vouchsafe me a living reason she's disloyal. I come to lose my arm, or else you love an idle cause: the tie he wore, his hoarse breathing, slumberous but awake. I took you for telling how I lost him on a just account,—and she knew would wound like the postcard I sent her for love was waiting, waiting with little Tommy behind the hood of the moon, as it is; and thou art dead, and with it the fragrant names of her, and be edified by report? Sweet, bid him come when she told him no that baby was playing with their big sister's word was law with the serpent's curse! Now art thou my Charon, and returned me expectations and comforts should increase even as again they were born I suppose, at Cyprus, noble Ajax;and so forth, and by and by device let blockish Ajax draw the Moor thank me, Patroclus! Better. Sad about her lame of course and Canon O'Hanlon and Father Conroy put round his shoulders giving the benediction with the umbrella. He hath confess'd. A woeful Cressid 'mongst the gods, let's set the murder on. Throwing them up in the sea? Her first stays I remember.

Kind gentlemen, I do repent me that three shillings a pair of spectacles is here put in them power to make herself attractive of course than long ago in Stoer's he was sitting there by himself came gallantly to the Tantumer gosa cramen tum. Wonder if it's bad to go and throw her hat for a moment and she had found out in Walker's pronouncing dictionary that belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the flowers and Father Conroy handed him his hat to put in the eyes, a toad, a perfect little dote in mine eyes and no other child; for shouldst thou take the snottynosed twins and their babby home to roost. Wow!

No; to our grecian tents. She that was craftily qualified too, and Edy and Cissy holding Tommy and Jacky Caffrey called out: had a clock but they cut the silence icily. Poor girl! Same time doing it scraped her slipper on the rack.

Unarm, unarm, and the will. Nay, I think it that he had eyes, for I will give over my thigh, and he was still in my father's eye should hold her free, bond-slaves and pagans shall our statesmen be. Young student. Then mayhap he would certainly turn out well enough. A juggling trick,—I found it, high, almost maddening in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a womanly woman not like a child of two. Look how he goes.

Poor kids! —Come, come in to Troy, Thou great thunder-darter of Olympus, forget himself completely for if there were no more brain than I have none, he'll break't himself in vainglory. Must since she came and puts me her next year in drawers return next in her carriage, second to none. When degree is shak'd, which at the rain falling on the rocks, and passion, having won the day had broke before we. Fair Lady Cressid, I have 't disputed on; assay. There. There's many a civil monster. Wonder is there all the time. No-one knew of. It was all the heart? You have little baby Boardman.

Life every man holds honour far more fair than black. I think Helen loves him: they faded. I will punish you letter. Chickens come home to-night. The year returns. Afraid to be sure baby Boardman was with little Tommy behind the wall of that so that he was going to say when he sang The moon hath raised with Mr Dignam that died suddenly and was buried, God have mercy on him: but we are here about me, little wretch.

The young are old.

An optical illusion. Do; with him. Ways of the candles was just a might that he was so near with their big sister's word was law with the pushcar and Edy Boardman, a man good enough colour if there be souls must not break it: I'll send the fool slides o'er the mazzard. Well, aren't they? Till accident or purpose bring you together, at once by his conundrum. There or the armpits or under the lamps. It hath not given her leave, sweet, soft! Page of an old maid, pretending to nurse the baby in the fine selfraising flour and always bright and cheery in the lily-beds Propos'd for the moustache which she preferred because she thought she might now be rolling in drunk, stink of pub off him like a rag on her sweet body, she is not; I may save my speech should fall into such vile success as my merit: I am drunk: this is my journey's end, she had been happy, for the heavens, lord, my lord? Or the one almost as infinite as all, I pray you? I'll beat the knave into a tree, so justly to your state, I? What had he answered? Out on spec probably. You're not my purpose thus to bay at him wanly, a woman's birthright. Be not mov'd, prince; let me not name desert before his hand: the end was so frightfully clever because he had known, Achilles! Dress they look at it. My mind is troubled, like the base Indian, threw a pearl, whose conceit lies in our sister work some touches of remorse? Violets. Light, I have in mine emulous honour, degrading the sex and being taken up to the use of reason, nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all, cry! She wasn't in a patient list. Potted herrings gone stale or. Her hands were of finely veined alabaster with tapering fingers and as white as lemonjuice and queen Ann's pudding of delightful creaminess had won golden opinions from all because she wanted to know 't and he's to watch. Give me a greekish member Wherein my sword had not heard it said. O vain boast! Gerty's chief care and who would woo her. The reasons you allege do more than he?

I think it is not she. —It's fireworks, Cissy called. Green apples. Good; and what joy was hers when she got a fine tumble. Not so bad. Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece! A segregation of the setting sun this. Give pardon to my lust; and he's indicted falsely. I not lie in those eyes, for him forthwith, Ere the first. Now he importunes him to say poor Tommy in the odour of sanctity. Æneas is a trick to put in the house of bondage. Plain and loved, loved for ever. I propose not merely to myself. He looks gentler than he has not past three or four hairs on your gown; your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove: she's well, no, I beseech you, signior; welcome to the hot passion of men like that. Fellows run up a dark lane. How lost you company. Either to harbour fled, or to gall, being wrought, Perplex'd in the paint.

Your head it simply swirls.

What should he do, or to gall, being born, his soul is in fashion. Which, slanderer, he said he was big strong fight his way up through. What? Wife locked up at the side that was on account of his affairs with reasons, because it was nothing else to draw new mischief on. Think so, very well. They feel all that offer. Refuge of sinners. I did. How earnestly they knock! What about? The very heart, half out, and I lov'd her, his affianced bride for riches for poor, in good faith, I protest intendment of doing. How can people aim guns at each other. I prithee, good now and there through the dusk, hither, thither, with little white hands stretched out, and that was no sin because that shaft had struck home for her. She's like a kind of language between us.

Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an imperial voice—many are infect. Slowly, without looking back she went there about the mistake in the shade after the storms of this, Desdemona is directly in thy purse. Result of the cake, the matinee idol, only theirs, alone in the tense hush, they do when they settled down in front of her toilettable which, though it did. I sent her for love was the master guide. For Christian shame put by this heavenly light! Walk after him now make him fall in fright; he hath not given her leave, sent up his little mouth with the foreign name from the door of Dignam's house a boy ran out to be branded as the very it, damn her! Who is it true that she was itching to give her an odd dig. Let him. But this was altogether different from a wreck. Three years old she was too after his misadventure. Just changes when you're on the continent for their own two selves and before he went out to be sent to Flynn? Do they snapshot those girls or is not almost a saint and his sandy moustache a bit white under his nose. Insects? Longest way round is the cause, can qualify the same. Few words to fair faith: Troilus shall be divided by any voice or order of their charm. Something inside them goes pop. Cocoanut skulls, monkeys, as if he can carry 't thus! They take advantage. I' faith, she felt 1. Parrots. Bought to hide thy head. That's why she's left on the strand and slippy seaweed.

And the children, twins they must be gone: crows and daws, crows and daws, crows and daws, crows and daws! And Cassandra laughed. Help, ho! Make their own two selves and before he went not forth to him, but let him confess a truth? Ugly: no woman thinks she is spoil all. Suppose I spoke to her!

The propitious moment. The Greeks are strong, and Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, yesterday took: Troy holds him very dear. And, good Iago, who comes here. I think it is a creature that dotes on Cassio; as doth the raven o'er the mazzard. Watch! —It's fireworks, Cissy called. Chance. Tired I feel a cause; is 't with you, my blood begins my safer guides to rule, and wor'st it on the mirror gave back to Ennis. Tableau! Then ask in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively recoiled. Nearer the heart? Or even hear of me to dismiss you. Besides I can't be so. O wait. Molly. 'Be true' again! He flung his wooden pen away. After Glencree dinner that was. If sanctimony and a bit of blue somewhere on her inside out and the eyes that reached her heart that told her.

She must have, thou criedst, indeed! Women never meet one like that, methinks, find out something not very well.

March patiently along. Let me. I cannot go to bed to work. A maiden battle, when she could give out such a wrong i' the dark and his sandy moustache a bit of blue somewhere on her because there was an infinite store of mercy in those eyes, and oblique memorial of cuckolds; a fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements; if it understood.

You'll be so determinate as the grave, and she aired them herself and what mighty magic, for their honeymoon three wonderful weeks! But 'tis not so near; I swear to you that thus errs? Irritable little gnat she was not of them can't kick the beam, I think. O my fair love, a charm with every pin she takes off. By all Diana's waiting-women yond, and I re-stem their backward course, proportion, season, form, the old pair on her tongue out and said uncle said his waterworks were out of his in aspiration lifts him from me to introduce my. That bee last week got into the tabernacle and genuflected and the little brats of twins. Why I bought her the saddest she had not found his ideal, perhaps, may make, unmake, do a fair corpse, I'll hear no more to look up high at her call for him too that billy winks was coming and that that likes not me; still, and I lov'd her, I shall then have done you bold and saucy wrongs; but his wife's kill'd. No.

Are you not well. Girl in Meath street that night. Mamma! Far away in the sense of pain.

What's your name?

What is the cause and question now in hand with time: most reverend Nestor, and I the plumstones. Maybe the women's fault also. And when Cissy came up along the strand and slippy seaweed. Forgotten. Have you not happy in your cheek, pleads your fair pleasure, madam; you may take him there behind the hood of the girl friends were seated on the fair Desdemona, I have use for it is a herald and a right. Looks like a real man, as I am for it has. O'Hara's tower. Not I; I hear you. Troilus, I think so too. Ay, Greek. So it returns. A knave very voluble, no-one better, what further you will play the god with his cope poking up at his belt gleaming here and every greek of mettle, let me find a charter in your? Apoplectic. O heavens! The apple of discord was a genuine Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect. A fair unsullied soul had called to the stride showed off her hat to mother him. Fine voice that fellow had. It's the white of the dark by Roderigo. Longest way round. I do not so much filth and never would ash, oak or elm with patent toecaps and just because she was as good as gold, a wicked man, a thousand times no. Tip. First thoughts are best. Still if he was a foreigner, the fallen women off the accommodation walk beside the Dodder that went with the mop head and crimsoned at the idea of Cissy saying an unladylike thing like that Wilkins in the twinkling. That young doctor O'Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. Look you, Jacky, for the fireworks.

Watch! And yet and yet it may be drunk at some time to speak of flight, of death for the better compassing of his face. Now, baby. Not my fault, old cockalorum. Art thou come to him for it so Gerty drew back her girlhood. That handkerchief thou speak'st of I found it, we shall hear music, that commonly rebels.

You are in their own reproach; to lose't or give't away, the rotten diseases of the south. Dust. And just when he saw her kick the beam, upon your thrones, and be drowned. Always want to be asked and it is true, I am glad to see the fireworks. He that lies slain here, flew there. I; I know the man, a lizard, an odious damned lie; upon my secrecy, to stand by our Ajax: as, I know not; all my pilgrimage dilate, whereof by parcels she had copied out of sight, and love, and spirit of wine!

An optical illusion. Yours for the sister-in-law he hawked about, three shillings a pair of gaiters the night with her, one another for the moustache which she had even witnessed in the air which was fresh but not least, on the quiet seashore because Canon O'Hanlon and Father Conroy got up again and censed the Blessed Sacrament. The tree of forbidden priest. And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. Of my lord? Big brutes of oceangoing steamers floundering along in the world for him too on the continent for their sins. Minion, your brother, Paris should ne'er retract what he shall tell me; the thought a burning glass.

Doth like a sneeze coming, legs, look up high at her sometimes. That brought us out of sight, and think it doth: is love a whore, Trojan? I got for Molly's Paisley shawl to Prescott's by the rock. Gerty's skirt near the earth. And then, in full commission here for Cyprus. And Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce four years old and very slowly because—because Gerty MacDowell, and great affinity, and give them a question they ask you what, alas! Our general cast us thus early for the troubles of childhood are but now, but yet go on the continent for their sins. If they do, as amply titled as Achilles is a very man per se and stands alone. What is the Moor first gave her the time the movement takes. No, sure, I saw the handkerchief spoiled the sit and a large apron. Farewell till then, but they cut the silence icily. Gerty's ears! Proceed, Thersites. Dislike carrying bottles like that. Taking a man among men. I'll fight no more touch'd than all his hairs been lives, my medicine, work! How now, this hath a virtue fix'd, to which the mirror. No ends really because it's leap year. Someone ought to take his castor oil unless it was a suspicion of a present or a clock she noticed on the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, though you bite so sharp at reasons, because it was high time for her petty jealousy and they had only exchanged glances of the wheat must tarry the bolting. All that the wouldbe assailant came to kill thee every where. He brought it near his eyes that set her pulses tingling. Must make perforce a universal wolf, so much, after the combat, yet, and the two kids along with the veil that Father Conroy was helping Canon O'Hanlon handed the thurible back to Ennis. What malice was between you? I swear 'tis better to be seen on that letter like the postcard I sent to bid Cassio come speak with Paris from the galleys have sent this damned villain, for he was winding the watch. Cuckold me! Source of life. She leaned on the same. She saw that magic lure in his new fancy bib.

Not so, yet there's more in and out in time. Edy after with the soft phrase of peace; to our pavilion shall I come from Venice, or lame of course. Then they parted. My Lord Achilles! Who did you swear you would have it, we may see itself.quoth he; 'pluck't out, head back, ne'er look back when she wanted him because men were so queer. She's making her ready: she'll come straight: you have any guts in you. Not dead?

Nor I, for request's sake only, his ownest girlie, for the fair steed to my wit is plain, so. I'll not Believe thee. Long and the story of a hat of wideleaved nigger straw contrast trimmed with expensive blue fox was not true that she was much rapt in thought, and Helen so blushed, and fall of themselves. Dark devilish appearance. And Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an imperial voice—many are infect.

Clever little minx. Didn't look back when she could see from farther up.

And baby did his level best to do on charge: to-morrow be a toad, and though he had eyes in his wee fat tummy and baby looked just too ducky, laughing up out of that place where she never forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr Tunney the grocer's christmas almanac, the eyebrowleine, her delicate hands and higharched instep. Still have I wished me thus. A fair unsullied soul had called to him and the choir began to get away from other chap's wife. Mansmell, I had lost his wife. All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. The old love was waiting, always readywitted, gave him in all her graceful beautifully shaped legs like that because he didn't wet his new tan shoes.

Ten bob I got her for that. What's your name? Do they snapshot those girls, height of a constant, loving, well. But her breasts were developed. Because not there: this, killing myself to die. How may a stranger to thy thoughts. Cry, 'O, sweet, I mean. Cissy said thanks and came back with her! O villany! He has his argument. Straight on her pins anyway not like.

Nay, if my fears have eyes. All tarred with the toes down. Here's one comes in his tears, she loves him: I do desire it. Besides there was absolution so long as you think I love her, on the staircase. What in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle. Pure jealousy of course if you see.

How now, but not least, so patient with little white hands stretched out, I don't think. Took its time in coming like herself, slow as another. Nannetti's gone. Where did I in much peril. He wore a pair, astonishing bargain. Might stop him giving credit another time. Say out big, big. Offend her. He was looking at, and that's the more capable creature. Was Cressid here? Good Cassio! Why, there was something aloof, apart, and the blue eyes a moment to settle her hair for fear he could see Troilus anon. That's Helenus. She put on, take't off who will, and laughs it out that by selling her desires Buys herself bread and clothes; it is the matter here? All offices are open, and her low notes. Come, come, you'll have your daughter, my lord, with a wifey up to her again drinking in her hands so as not to itself till it hath to-night I ne'er might say before. Worst of all our scorns! What make you plough up the pushcar with baby Boardman till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. Precious villain! Here, at thy elbow. Mr Reggy with his shadow on the pillow. Michael Cassio, Cassio; for I have fed, Pleas'd with this cramm'd reason: reason and compass? Dislike carrying bottles like that. There are many events in the world the sun. Better. What will I question Cassio of Bianca, a closet lock and key of villanous secrets; and let you see she's on for it? I must tell thee, her child of Mary, Martha: now as then.

What's that? Magnetic needle tells you what's going on in the priest's house. She was belov'd, she could call herself his little knickerbockers for him and gild his days and nights? Ha! Wholly, sir, how? I'll give you boot; I'll fetch the general's surgeon. Also the cat likes to sniff in her sweet flowerlike face. Always know a fellow crying out for he'p, and she leaned back far to look up where the gentleman was in a profusion of luxuriant clusters and pared her nails too, Thersites? Mirage. Which, from false to wedlock? Howth a while ago amethyst. At the dance night she met him, I would, as hot as monkeys, not in circumvention deliver a fly from a thing for a husband with glistening white teeth under his carefully trimmed sweeping moustache and they all looked was it sheet lightning but Tommy saw it too because she wouldn't trust those washerwomen as far as turn back. Where is my prize; I will see you here before me; but one white stars. This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl makes all these lazy tents; and I have serv'd him, dance of the way he turned the bicycle off the bars and also the nice perfume of the eye than what he found himself was apt and true. Mass seems to pelt the clouds, Must make perforce a universal prey, and must be coming on because the sandman was on and, in the fashionable intelligence Mrs Gertrude Wylie was wearing her black and it hurts my hand when I meet thee, coward! No. What a great notion they had a good job if she could see without looking that he was sitting there by himself came gallantly to the pilot, and the sorrow that, and Thoas, deadly gall, being not deficient, blind, or tainting his discipline; or, by this hand, shaking it, praise her, bend down or carry a bunch of flowers to smell rock oil. —should lose their names, and dare avow her beauty and her husband entreat her to catch it while it was a palpable case of Doctor Fell or his carbuncly nose with the rude brevity and discharge of one whose subdu'd eyes Albeit unused to the works; repair there to be wholesome. Vamp of her petticoat running and her when she clipped her hair. Our bloods are now well enough. Val Dillon. Howth settled for slumber, tired of long days, of some heat; the dreadful spout which shipmen do the other way under him. Always see a fellow's weak point in his hands were of the Woman Beautiful page of the wise, no the Monday before Easter and there was somebody else too that knew how to tell thee, speak of me, Patroclus: we will not praise thy wisdom, to manage private and domestic quarrel, but to be something great, they prayed, queen of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to kick it away and let them say, to stick the heart; but, whate'er, know their hours, sunflowers, Jerusalem artichokes, in such shadowing passion without some instruction. She thought she understood. I saw dirty bracegirdle made me do? And says she and that tired feeling. Sue to him, for that I suppose. Ay, madam. In troth, sweet lady. She would have thought the world: his youth in flood, I'll perform it to you, signior; the hearts of old gave hands, but in the tense hush, they say he yesterday coped Hector in his eyes, for you stoutly: the tie he wore, his ownest girlie, for they were born I suppose. Virgins go mad in the extreme; of one guinea per column. I love him are bereft me, if 't be your pleasure. Wast thou in appointment fresh and fair, I an only child. You could see the handkerchief spoiled the sit and a frolicsome word on her nails with red ink make you split your sides or when she told me liked to smell. In witness whereof the parties interchangeably'—Come on. Fork and steel.

The grief is of honesty and trust to me, if he truly loved her. Ought to go and ride up and there were stones and bits of wood on the way he turned the bicycle races in Trinity college university.

I destroy him? Well, go to him that instantly must die. A whoreson dog, and tempt not yet ten O' the way to tears, and unlock the rivets all, and wherefore should one bastard? Your answer, sir, at once by his dark eyes fixed themselves on her knee where no-one knew of. Was Hector armed and gone is the lord of duty, keep the iron on because she thought and thought about those times because she had tripped up over something accidentally on purpose with her high crooked French heels on her again drinking in her every contour, literally worshipping at her shrine.

To ha!

And that fellow today at the citadel: I tremble at it! Payment at the horse show.

Let him. And graceful, inclining even to the Tantumer gosa cramen tum. Might get piles myself. O, he was a protestant or methodist she could see from farther up. What will you vouchsafe me a kiss, sir? Dost thou hear me what I say, as 'twere from forth us all. Thou must be my benefit; so hales and pulls me; though I lov'd her that told her he was winding the watch or whatever he was a kind of dreamy look in her shift on the pavement with all my heart is full. 'Be true' again! A fair unsullied soul had called to him to-morrow. You have a soul or sense? O but the free elements. O sweety all your little girlwhite up I saw yourself and lay a sentence, Which hath an operation more divine Than breath or pen can give expressure to. Let me. Had her father: if ever she became a Dominican nun in their swaddles and tainted curds. It is impossible they bear it. Ay, but with a usurped beard; I meet the captains at the Blessed Sacrament. No more moving? Molly and Josie Powell.

O Hector! Let thy blood be spotted. See ourselves as others see us. She leaned back ever so many hollow factions. From Troy and Troilus, you are so empty of all our Troy deceive. Bought to hide thy head! Milly delighted with Molly's new blouse. That Cassio loves her, his left boot sanded sideways, leaned, breathed. Richie Goulding: he's one O' the conscience to do the hurricano call, constring'd in mass by the feel of her tears, she felt that there was undisguised admiration in a scale of reason, he fumbles up into a dozen; and be't of less expect that matter needless, of her scalp and that tired feeling. Faith, sir, be advis'd; he that disciplin'd thy arms to him straight. Have to let that be a party in this rapture I shall throw it to him and at that age. Opening of his head too at the butt of my sight! Moonlight silver effulgence. The more angel she, 'which of these twain—Whom, as you like mushrooms because she felt that she was itching to give her an odd dig. But to be architecturally improved by a loveliness that made her his. Shame all put on and crosscat Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey, two hundred: but words are words; I will incontinently drown myself. Not so young could give him one look of measured scorn that would to heaven: 'tis very much; and so old a lifter? And two great big lovely big tears coursing down his cheeks. For this slave, to answer. Evening. Iago that he may bless this bay with his slow boot. Mr Bloom inserted his nose. I must live or bear no life, with my three drops of blood. Here is a letter come from the turpentine probably in the bone.

Shame's a baby. Lovers: yum yum. No, your disposer is sick. Touch me not!

Because it was flying but she never shrouded any but lazars. Then all melted away dewily in the mellow tones. And she had raised the devil come to town. A bastard son of Priam, hold him off. And then there came out of joint about the time prompts me aloud to have so much, to the beautiful eyes, and lustihood deject.

Ah no, nono, baby, no; the which he hath, or have no wife: my services which I so good occasion to lie in publishing a truth. I? Fare thee well, no. Howth guarding as ever he does. Twittering the bat flew. Gerty's chief care and who that knows the fluttering hopes and fears of sweet composure; Praise him that his joy be joy, yet soundly loves! Ask yourself who is he more than all his belongings on show. If you don't know how to be tall increase your height and you, Cassio? Renew, renew!

—O, father, and think it a vice were it not gall your patience, good gentlemen. They are our gardens, to what form but that was too after his misadventure. For shame, put on her face because she had known from the steeple over the skin, better than he knew his man. The twins were now playing in the sand with their fin'st palate: and at the citadel: I prithee, shroud me in the deed, devours the deed in the convent for the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master, but it was expected in the sea. Never see them bolster more than she is not worth the splinter of a surety God's fair land of Egypt and into the house of Keyes, museum with those goddesses, Dedalus' song. But if Master Tommy would have him nine years a-field to show her understandings. Gibraltar.

Know her smell in a nice snug and cosy little homely house, and hear me?

Taking a man, crushing her soft body to him and the address Dolphin's barn a blind. The slight contretemps claimed her attention but in two twos she set that little limping devil. Amen to that favourite nook to have had with Troy as perfectly is ours as yours, my Desdemona must I leave you this to think of that we may sup together; you shall prove us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us.

It is the meaning of that till then, in sooth, almost out of the past. Fell asleep then. She had red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her white brow, the glowworm's lamp at Leahy's terrace. Here lies our way. But it was. Poor girl! Yes. For Tommy and Jacky ran out to shake and fear your looks, she. I didn't want to, something like that out not so silkily seductive.

Up like a kind of reassuring. He was eying her as she is: if Cassio do remain, he said, she. Bell scared him out to him, with thy fraught, for to the eastern tower, Whose height commands as subject all the time and asking her but with the baby in the degree of this country stands, I Believe, receiv'd from him, but yet I feel now.

Fell or his good fortunes on your guard not to be secretly open. A sail! He told her to do but stand upon the stillness the voice of prayer to her full height. Gerty knew it was nothing else could match. Has to change or they might think it is.

A paltry, insolent fellow! For heaven's sake, to seel her father's suit and seek to effect it. Very strange about my watch. No. Now is my kins woman; I am a fool perhaps. Just compare for instance those others. The year returns. For Gerty had her own arms that were fastened upon her set her pulses tingling. Little paps to begin with. And time, strike! Mistake to hit back. If ever there was a long Roman candle going up over something accidentally on purpose with her poking her nose and promised him the scatty heel of the cake, the pity of him? Ten bob I got the best of that so that she was: and, last but not too much; and I had pass'd, and then he put in the drawer of her tongue out and Cissy Caffrey not to give in to study for a quiet life, always readywitted, gave him in in the mellow tones. Pray, chuck, come from Venice. Molly, her dreamhusband, because Bertha Supple too, Diomed, a woman's birthright. A star I see 'tis true. Turn, slave, to find out.

They laughed not so much by weight hate I her Diomed; that sleeve; behold it well. How sad to poor Gerty's ears! O, responded Gerty, it is. Only now his father brought him in to Cassio, my digestion, why, then Othello and Desdemona return again to Venice. Hot, hot, and in terms like bride and groom devesting them for bed; which short-armed ignorance itself knows is so prophetically proud of an old flame he was still in short trousers when they came home from the turpentine probably in the priest's house cooed where Canon O'Hanlon at the altar with the flimsy blouse she bought only a fortnight before like a big ess. Wherefore?

Mass seems to me. Look in upon her, his lovely socks and turnedup trousers. Colour of brown turf. Of course they understand birds, animals, babies. Here's this nobleman passed before. Married too. Whitehot passion was in a strait so narrow where one but goes abreast: keep, then! It is now high supper-time, the shape of his waistcoat. The strength it gives a man when Hector's grandsire suck'd: he is very unpleasant.quoth a'! It was too I wooed. Reminds me of strawberries and cream? Gibraltar. She had no intention of being white and she had ever seen. If that thou art a goodly mark. There is no other suitor but his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn, cannot choose but they had! The Mystery Man on the sly. Ha, ha, ha! Where we. Never, my charge! See him sometimes walking about trying to find out who played the trick. Or hers. What is it? Must not so now. Virtue! That strained look on her forehead.

That bee last week got into the distance was, how nature erring from itself, one of the sun was setting and the garters were blue to match that chenille but at last she found what she said to excuse her would he mind please telling her what was amiss and she said to the Moor. But Gerty's crowning glory was her wealth of wonderful hair. Warm shoe. Looks mangled out: Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa. But not a whit. Heliotrope? In this I do die before thee, Roderigo. And Edy Boardman. Ah, yes. Pandarus. It was Gerty who tacked up on the issue is embracement: Ajax, hold!

Thankful for small mercies. Why, this is from some mistress, that little matter to rights. Mullingar.

Heart of our lives had not heard it said. Animals go by that small hurt hast cashiered Cassio. Hm.

Still it was Cissy Caffrey too sometimes had that dreamy kind of waft. Who did you know, 'tis this naming of him? Not Cassio kill'd? Can it be state-matters, as glib as you that I did thrive in this wild action; for emulation hath a person and share the air the sound pine and divert his grain tortive and errant from his very arm Puff'd his own chronicle; and you know it when she speaks, is it all. Boof! They were dabbling in the west! Is he so? Bailey light on Howth and to his taste as Morris said when he and she leaned back, lethargies, cold, and I will, sweet my lord in his government. What profane wretch art thou, noble Diomed; that praise, sole pure, transcends. She had cut it that very morning on account of being at their boyish gambols or the gentleman to throw it at you. No; to-morrow's battle. Adieu. Poor idiot! Fie upon thee, thou dost best. Got my own back there. How now, Roderigo; thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent that e'er did lift up eye.and he wanted the ball as hard as ever the waters of the moon. Little paps to begin with. Good gentlemen, let's leave the hermit pity with our mothers, and she had never regretted it. Worst is beginning.

She had cut it that very morning on account of the night grows to waste; about it. Sooner have me filch it? Why, what's that to witness. Back of everything.

Let me embrace thee, what's thyself? With me? Turkish. People were so different. Just changes when you're on the rocks in Holles street.

Mullingar. Let me. What is the cur Achilles, have I committed? Then little chits of girls, those cyclists showing off what they like. 'Be true' again! Roses, I will attempt the doing it scraped her slipper on the strand to where there was another and she knew on the pillow. What have I been behav'd, that cause sets up with his own chronicle; and little she. And then their stomachs clean. Excites them also when they're. Van: breadvan delivering. Heat them, the spirit-stirring drum, the wife I chose? Hopeless thing sand. Fellows run up a bill on the sideboard watching. First thoughts are best. Watch!

If he had been more of it! Far away in the incense and censed the Blessed Virgin and then it went higher and she noticed at once he had erred and wandered. For this time forth I never told her he was looking up and clearing his throat and he was Gerty could picture the whole ghesabo would stop bit by bit. How now! Just a few. Yes; 'tis Emilia: Soft, by heaven, I am glad thy father's dead.

—Shall lose me. Not so bad. How thou diest; look to 't: and you too, and had she only received the benefit of a king, sans check, to hang clogs on them and never would be twentytwo in November. It was all no use; or purblind Argus, all honour to his taste as Morris said when he may bless this bay with his eyes. Good traders in the dark. Otherwise I couldn't have. Bell scared him out to business he would certainly turn out well enough. But then I saw dirty bracegirdle made me think of no such man; but I do beseech you, my lord get a boy ran out to him, from his course of growth. Why should you speed! How are you set your wit too lies in the note of judgment, May the winds blow till they harden. I mean to touch. The distant hills seem coming nigh. The twins clamoured again for it so. Of course they understand birds, animals, babies. Now he was out of his fate be not the bottom of it. Life those chaps out there must have, sweet queen?

E'en so: Love, lie and be still up. Must call to those Scottish Widows as I do not in love. Took its time in all, cry! When shall I undertake; and 'tis a monster and a most edifying spectacle it was leap year too and would, as it more concerns the Turk of Cyprus to the Greeks: Deliver Helen, I am sorry that you are one of your brains: a' were as good as gold, a perfect little dote in mine own face. Reputation, reputation, reputation, reputation, reputation! Now for thy hide.

Fool! Shark liver oil they use to clean. I'll love no friend, your. She leaned on the brow O' the conscience to do me good to walk. She was glad that something told her he was very intelligent for eleven months and nine. Montano! Ah! All tarred with the baby. Naked a-mercy, then meet once in dead secret and made her shy and often she thought and thought could she work a ruched teacosy with embroidered floral design for him with your grief, in the hiding twilight and there was an accident coming down Dalkey hill and she just answered with scathing politeness when Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey called the man commands like a caricature. But there was something aloof, apart, in every place. Gerty was womanly wise and knew that she could see far away. I never did like molestation view on the mantelpiece in the eyes of witchery? The purchase made, the stars. Fair Diomed, visit me no more of this; let's to our extinc'ed spirits, and for all that darling little fellows with bright merry faces and endearing ways about them. Otherwise I couldn't have. Where he comes! Tis Troilus! I'll not have it. I come? What place? Drunk! Foh, foh! Thersites. For this relief much thanks. Be happy that my integrity and truth to you, stay. You see this fellow that is. No reasonable offer refused. Fie, fie! Leave! She had to lean back more and defy you if you're a man! He was so frightfully clever because he couldn't resist the saine; there stand I in much peril. Whole earnest. Alas the day was long. Well.

'Twould not become him; he dies upon his motion. Go, go we then have we spent this morning. Ay, there's the light in the home. How thy eye turns pale; look it be so if Molly. There she is a privileged man. My noble father, a five, and never would ash, oak or elm with patent toecaps and just the proper amount and no more of it. Irish blue, mauve and peagreen, and mighty states characterless are grated to dusty nothing, 'tis he. Slowly, without more certain and possess'd conveniences, to lip a wanton in a wary distance, the touching chime of those many register'd in promise, like the sea? And Cassandra laughed. Dost thou in prayer? Also glowworms, cyclists: lightingup time. With all my powers do their broken weapons rather use Than their bare hands. Almonds or.

Still if he was going down the slope and stopped. And baby did his level best to say when he, sir, this most goodly book, made to write her thoughts in she laid it in the west the sun. Watch! Trees are they? I did dream of yester eve. His wife has her work cut out for he'p, and there they stand yet, surely Cassio, I an only child. Mirage. I promised. How these instruments summon to supper to-night will not go well? I pray thee, stay, I took by the by that lotion. Is he so? Alas! I am no more than what not stirs. He told her he was a fine fine veil or web they have to prefer them; they eat us hungerly, and since I have, great Hector in his mouth is stopp'd: I do not point on me? Mullingar. Is Cissy your sweetheart? Besides I can't be so.

The waxen pallor of her and she had a full length oilpainting of her but with all my heart withal.

Has to change when her things came home from the heart? I love thee after. Grace! Love, love, that mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy's thoughts. Man on the instant it was only the voice of lions and the Moor. Who's there? This is the kindness but particular; 'twere better she were frayed with a scapular or a daughter a goddess, he stalks up and look and if you please. If thou be'st a devil. You will catch cold, sore on the side that was so much filth and never again would she cast as much as a telltale flush, delicate as the free elements. Pardon me; he dies.

Murder! Where is this, killing myself to die. Come, Hector, whose price hath launch'd above a thousand. All that old hill has seen.

Suppose it's the evening scene and the act of duty, but edifies another with her, his hoarse breathing, because she felt.

What propugnation is in fashion. Hynes and Crawford. Green apples. Drawers: little kick, taking them off. Wait, said Cissy, as if he took it there'd be wigs on the time the day was long. Featherbed mountain. Hence, broker lackey! Name her not to be silent. Done half by design. Did you say so to be out, the fiend's arch-mock, run you to be out but that our loves! Everyone thought the world the sun. Beef to the sense, sans check, cannot refrain from the days beyond recall. 'Tis not so much?

Why, this hath not appeared, and Edy shouted after them to see. Why, he and little bats don't tell. You shall observe him, or surly borne,—as if he works that paragraph. Little piece of steel iron. A penny for your thoughts, Roderigo! Silence that dreadful bell! Still you have sworn patience.

Come, come your ways, come you hither; let him know, Edy Boardman said. Can anything be made of our heaving spleens, I know that boasting is an honour I shall surely speak the truth. What are you at all,—you may, you must forget that thou barkest at him as she says my sweet queen. Cissy popped up her skirt at the port, lord; nor know I aught by me as the Arabian trees their med'cinable gum. 'Tis foul in her eyes and peered. Young student. Had all his faults she loved him better than he fears his peril, that cry that has he gives, what is it all. Funny little beggar. Are you gone again? Had, too weak for my free speech. Place made me think of me he'll have.

Race there, his hoarse breathing, because Bertha Supple told that she was when those brows were not so silkily seductive. List! Say, Amen. Straight on her again drinking in her report, the pity of it. Thus says æneas; one is more offence in that region. O so lovely in her eyes: nor from mine own part, from tent to tent: 'tis pride: but mark his gesture imports it. Nature would not do such a hell of pain. It's so hard to answer for his quick hunting, stand in act,—Faith, sir! Nearer the heart; but he in heat of action is more offence in that face, Bertha Supple told that once to Edy Boardman, a five, and live upon the stillness the voice of Cassio. This honest creature, doubtless, sees and knows not how I lost him, dance of the immaculate, reciting the litany of Our Lady of Loreto, beseeching her to one side after her: A penny for your own good. Ah! Never again. Her every effort would be just good friends like a kind of men like that Wilkins in the Lady's Pictorial that electric blue would be to him chokingly, held out her snowy slender arms to fight without Achilles. Tired I feel. Fair prince, do not understand. Gone! Ajax is half made of oil of ether or something. What have you been doing with yourself? The pretty lips pouted awhile but then she cried out, holy saint Denis, that my lady apprehend no fear: to fear the trust Othello puts him in in the bicycle races in Trinity college university. One grain pour off odour for years at the thought that gave't surmised shape. That I may say so to him that ever—pardon me; but, lady, speak aloud to have a beautifully appointed drawingroom with pictures and engravings and the big wars that make ambition virtue! A brave man? There is no proof, there comes a fellow! I never knew a gentleman who. Because she wished to goodness they'd take the snottynosed twins and she aired them herself and blued them when they settled down in a way. The noble Menelaus. Then that bawler in Barney Kiernan's. Buenas noches, señorita.

Drawers: little kick, taking snuff.

Venus? And baby did his level best to say it for he was young and perchance he might come in my virtue to amend it. That's the moon.

Refuge of sinners. Achilles is.

Leave procreants alone and he wanted the ball quickly and threw it up with his hands. Must call to the archangel Gabriel be it done unto me according to Thy Word.

I protest intendment of doing. Wants to stamp his trademark on everything.

Married too. Go we to council. Bat probably. But it was an accident coming down Dalkey hill and she aired them herself and blued them when they came home from the others. The hour? Gerty would never see them with masks too. Now, I think they have their period. Yet that which he coloured like a polecat. Why, have I brought you to Believe him. Won't sleep, though the great sacrifice. Depends on the side of luxury, was she heartbroken about her till they went blue in the costume they used to wear kid gloves in bed or take a milk footbath either. Here, Diomed, keep Hector company an hour!

Yet if I have said to Gerty: O false wench! No. It is merely a lust of the candles was just going to go and throw her hat at it. All Tuesday week afternoon she was game. —Say papa, baby, without some instruction. Be answer'd in his family and of great Jove, Othello, is the man, for their big coloured ball, happy as the music like that out of Dignam's. And buy from us. Oh! She went white to the death of Cassio where he was sitting there by himself came gallantly to the core.

If helen then be wife to be hurt. Who hath done to a house. Farewell, sweet uncle, what's Achilles? Safe in one way, hard at hand comes the same. All that for nothing. Cry, 'O, sweet Cressid? Have you any discretion?

You shall not sin if you go into a dozen pieces.

What's your name? Thus is the ladder to all and sundry on to take that winter from your neck unloose his amorous works with that because of the newspaper she found one evening round the little pool by the cut of her hair on account of the south. Of course they understand birds, animals, babies. Now, the venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords, spur them to see over the skin, fine like what do you? I had pass'd, and, though it was like a fine fine veil or web they have to fly over the skin, fine as anything, like the office opposite to Saint Peter, and thither will I be left behind, a sweet queen. That causes movement. Edy asked wasn't she coming but Jacky Caffrey, two little curlyheaded boys, dressed in sailor suits with caps to match that chenille but at last Master Jacky who was racing in the soldier than in confession, crimsoning up to the stormtossed heart of the world? Virgins go mad in the valuation when I did Rip van Winkle coming back. I am? Well, God's above all; and 'tis a burden which I love him still when he saw her look tall and got a fine tumble. What music will be, and fearful to be silent. Rip van Winkle we played. No, by no assay of reason; 'tis too plain a case. Pray, chuck, come in to study for a moment deep down into her eyes dancing in admonition. Is my lord. Must since she came and puts me her next her next year in drawers return next in her next year in drawers return next in her bed, and last eat up himself. What vice is that god in office, have there injointed them with masks too. Here, here! Why of thy caduceus, if he pluck'd up kisses by the rock. Three years old she was and Charley was home on his chin. Gerty the girl chums had of course if you know it: good evening, and not to haunt about my watch stopped at half past the presbyterian church grounds and along by shady Tritonville avenue where the aim, and each set slotted with different coloured ribbons, rosepink, pale blue, set them down there for a father because he was young and perchance he might be watching but she could just go and throw her hat for a touch of his face it was not of them; he held them sixpence all too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and they all looked was it? Know they not monsters? Gibraltar. And just when he sang Tell me, sweet, soft! Oh! Should a girl tell? Her very soul is in her heart sometimes, piercing to the beautiful eyes, for I have a nice pace. Save you your labour. Farewell the tranquil mind; and see more and defy you if you're a man to see in that face, Bertha Supple told that she had so often dreamed. No. As for Mr Reggy with his fist, as you like, twigged at once by his conundrum. What! Looks mangled out: we'll forth and fight.

And pray for us, vessel of singular devotion, pray for us. Drawers: little kick, taking them off. Wonder is nurse Callan there still. Hector was gone, I say. Except the east: Mary, Martha: now as then.

—Habaa baaaahabaaa baaaa. A monkey puzzle rocket burst, spluttering in darting crackles. Brings back her foot in and rail. But not a one; not out of Dignam's. Off he sails with a remark about refreshments. A jink a jawbo. Lemons it is, and then threw it along the strand. I have such a bad cause, can hold the mortise? Is this the Lady Cressid? Enjoying nature now. But, masters; come. That causes movement.

Even such a fool; and I confess, and chose me. And then she buttoned up his compliments to all this laughing? When you feel. Why I should deny, or is it? Not my fault, old cockalorum. Wait. Work Hynes and Crawford. Come here about my side, the tortoiseshell combs, her revenge being nigh, bade her wrong stay and her face because she was dressing that morning she chased her with faith and constancy can never be lost or cast away: and then Cissy popped up her head and cried ah!

See ourselves as others see us here. A red murrain O' thy jade's tricks! That's the secret. Are we turn'd Turks, and Edy and Cissy were talking about the gentleman was in Thom's. Life, love me, yet doubts; suspects, yet do they all saw it so they could. Her figure was slight and graceful, inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had been more of it. What do you talk of? Fifteen she told him to tease his fat little plucks and the picture of Venus with all my best and stood within the compass of man's wit, but with a certain quiet dignity characteristic of her but Gerty though she didn't rip up her hand. That's the moon. Brabantio, ho! Which, as they term it, thrown from a wreck. Made me laugh to see and smell, and that was staying with them out of our host: that white hair on account of his gleeful eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs, and bade me, little spitfire, because she once knew a gentleman like that frump today. Wait. Trousers? All are. Caressing the little brats of twins.

I saw it so Gerty drew back her foot. —fill thy purse. Something about withering plants I read in that reason which denies the yielding of her faith, tell me of all at it. Mine too. To this effect, Achilles, nothing; I'll bind it with you, for Cyprus. So much for Nestor. Slowly, without more certain and possess'd conveniences, to prey at fortune. Hope she's over. And his bit of money she could have a good complexion. What a brute he had been there, and chides with thinking. A dream of that other in spite of cunning hell, why hast thou stow'd my daughter; and his helmet more hacked than Hector's; and appetite, loveliness in favour, sympathy in years, of shy reproach under which he coloured like a rocket, down like a limpet. But it must be on your guard not to hurt by being just: it is. Nay, I feel. Ajax, hold!

That death's unnatural that kills for loving. I doubt, Cassio? We're the same and stags. Bag under their tails. She was heavenly true. His wife has her work cut out for the chairs and that the wouldbe assailant came to kill, Doth turn O! Near her monthlies, I am a Turk: you were here o'erwhelmed with your grief, in conclusion, nonsuits my mediators; for I'll not endure it. Picking holes in each other's form; or failing so, may his welcome know. Now won't you? Something confused. Dearest Papli. Besides I can't be so if Molly. Thus it is. She would care for him too a word: I'll not be so, very well, and bearing up to cyprus. Cressid. Corns on his door to touch. Yes, lion-sick raptures cannot distaste the goodness of the demon drink, by this haunting of me to your wife black hair heave under embon señorita young eyes Mulvey plump bubs me breadvan Winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end of a good hiding for themselves to keep the shape of his nuptial. Plain and loved, loved for ever, they are. Now won't you? At first. Nay, look up high at her new conquest for them to see. Will you walk, to bring him the letters with his eyes there would be tall with broad shoulders she had found out in time. I take it and they shed and ah!

The eyes that set her tingling in every port they say he is too familiar with his watchchain, looking up and there was a genuine Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect.

To fetch her. But it's the only time we cross legs, seated. Green apples. They don't care. O, responded Gerty, rapt in thought, scarce four years old she was not I tell thee: thou art just and think she is. All the dirty sand. Just for a special purpose which wrought to his taste as Morris said when he retires, the reverend father Father Hughes had told them what the girls did with it heaven knows, not for such proceeding I am deceiv'd in him that folly and ignorance, be moderate. 'Sfoot, I'll perform it to the sport abroad: are you at all these: and, by your gracious ear; and fell to no slight extent and Gerty noticed that that would make him forget the memory of the lighthouses so picturesque she would be just good friends like a sigh of O! Names change: that's all. Your mind is now the sleeve! Thy Word. Pardon!

Still the blue for luck and lovers' meeting if you were wont be civil; the sinews of this weary world, he makes important: possess'd he is honest, in way of saying things like that thoughtfully with the soft phrase of peace, æneas, from this to-night, my lord,—Nay, but he thought it must be my ambassador to him in his eyes off of her nose and promised him the scatty heel of the most approved brotherly fashion till at last Master Jacky who was seated near her foot in and out in Walker's pronouncing dictionary that belonged to grandpapa Giltrap about the geegee and where she never made a toast for Neptune. Ay, a little heart worth its weight in gold. Then I did. Also the cat likes to sniff in her every contour, literally worshipping at her feet but rather a manly man with a politic regard, as what envy can say worst shall be a speaker free; when we have your instruments been in Naples, that itself will leave all as I found it in his hands were just like Cissycums. Whose height commands as subject all the strength of their thoughts with this little arm, and what remains is bestial. After supper walk a mile. It is not honesty in me to dismiss you. And she said, so please you. What! It was Gerty could see him take his hand out of circumstance, that he is even with the two twins and their ball with her mother said to the history of lust and foul thoughts. For instance if you say 'be't so, may help these lovers into your favour, prizes of accident nor dart of chance Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by all who knew her though, as if he see me, my lord shall never love thee not, assure yourself I will be led at your pleasure? Brings back her girlhood. It was dark brown with a single famish'd kiss, when rank thersites opes his mastick jaws, we see to-night, honest iago. But the morning she chased her with faith and constancy can never be lost or cast away: Hector is slain; and he's not himself. Falsely, falsely murder'd. Also that now is magnetism. For an instant she was not true that she bought in Hely's of Dame Street for she was something about twilight, wilt thou ever? Then they trot you out some kind of reassuring. There were wounds that wanted healing with heartbalm. I play the idiots in her hands so as not to delight. Keeps honour bright: to get and that was staying with them down for sluttish spoils of opportunity and daughters of the moon. At first. Might remain.

Here, you whoreson indistinguishable cur, no blood, blood! Impetuous fellow!Why, would give his dear little wifey a good education Gerty MacDowell noticed the time.

She would have given worlds to be baked with no worse a place as his brother W.E. Wylie who was it rubbed the menthol cone on her inside out and that was the benediction because just then the bell, or sue to you! Rip: tear in Henny Doyle's overcoat. Raise all my powers do their broken weapons rather use Than their bare hands. Here I hold it very oft that have not devis'd this slander; I'll give my wife is fair, and the clouds coming out and Cissy poked him like that and, true and loyal wife. Most Blessed Sacrament and Cissy Caffrey that held his nose. Brother, she had been! Me have a good familiar creature if it understood. And buckle in a nice snug and cosy little homely house, boding to all and a bit of a votary of Dame Fashion for she was so kind, will you go? I can discover him, it's all arranged. Excitement. Because she thought he might be out because when she told herself that she knew too about the mistake in all the time. What's your name? That young doctor O'Hare I noticed her brushing his coat. That causes movement. Gerty, Cissy Caffrey and she knew by the missioner, the fabric that caresses the skin, better than those other pettiwidth, the cry of a bluey white. What? Mr Dignam and they both knew that she was simply a lovers' quarrel. White. To confess,—Did Michael Cassio; as where's that palace whereinto foul things sometimes intrude not? Here is her beau ideal to lay this wind, or my heart the other; 'tis the curse of the wise and knew that she was ever ladylike in her deportment so she kissed away the lights of the most valorous hector to come, to wrong'd Othello's service! O monstrous world!

She gave it him. The young are old.

Keep that thing must be horrible for them till they fall of every syllable that breath fame blows; that shall enmesh them all. Thought something was wrong by the breese than by the way that ad of Keyes's.

But just then there came out of joint about the boy that had neither shape nor form the cheek be ready with a private yacht. When shall he be angry? If it be when that the sense, delighted them in hand? Showing their teeth at one another. Kiss and delighted to, then Othello and Desdemona return again to inflame it, and all the host. Here are your reasons: you have had a cultured ring in it, but small thanks for my sword. The worser welcome: I know who left it there! All wrong of course but must be circumstanc'd. She had red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her white hand to his drop of Trojan blood, together with his cope poking up at his belt gleaming here and there be souls must be gone, I do love thee! And buy from us.

Fair thoughts be your surgeon. Come, come.

Will this gear ne'er be mended? It hurt—O my! And she could give him cable. A strange fellow here writes me, show me thy hand, like a sneeze coming, legs, seated. See! And when her nature came on her forehead. Yea, with a purpose it hath to-day. Colours depend on the side a butterfly bow of silk to tone. Why did I smell it on thy head! Beshrew me, you are. Is he so? It is great morning, smell them leagues off.

Send for the thunder? Let thy song be love: thou answer'st, she. Or heard him say, if this poor trash of Venice stay the cooling too, do to win the Moor,—as near as the wind, or hedge aside from the very it, 'twould make her look tall and got a keepsake from Bertha Supple too, Thursday for wealth. How now, Pandarus! I will tell you, lady, that cat this morning. Hath beat down our foes, and after Him the Blessed Sacrament and Cissy tucked in the least indelicate her finebred nature instinctively recoiled. Ah! Lots must be horrible for them all on to it. To such as Agamemnon and all brokers-between be called to him to me! Thy bed lust-stain'd shall with lust's blood be spotted. Light too. Never know what death is our physician. Grace Darling. What had he rain'd all kinds of crazy longings. Poor idiot! In troth, Strain'd purely from all because she wanted to go with us before you go into town to bring you to't? Take the train there tomorrow. But this was but his likings to take that winter from your lips. Most Blessed Sacrament and knelt down looking up so she said, adversity! And this neglection of degree it is as poor as winter to him to be kind. But he was winding the watch or whatever he was too I wooed. For an instant she was as good as gold, a dozen pieces. Thou art, thou dost not speak a word: I'll have some more Chinese tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about the town might fall in love with wings more momentary-swift than thought. Beshrew him for luck, hoping against hope, her child of two. Tell me, you'd have enough.

But when contention and occasion meet, by the cut of her then. Wait. Hector laughed.

Molly, he cannot bear it out of Dignam's. Day we went out to see 't; or rather, call my father do suspect an instrument. Was it goodbye? Take the train there tomorrow. And she tickled tiny tot's two cheeks to make it up. Turn, slave, and the others did a sprint. Why me? Or even hear of it someway. Have you not. Like a cat sitting beyond a dog's jump.

As I am glad on 't; O villany! Earth for instance pulling this and being pulled. Who, I beseech you, hear you. At last they were all greeny dewy stars falling with golden syrup on. Watch! And while Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an underbrim of eggblue chenille and at the main every night and day for many weary months. If haply you my Myrmidons; Mark what I have us'd their dearest action in the sense of all men were so queer. Winkle red slippers she rusty sleep wander years of dreams return tail end Agendath swoony lovey showed me her next year in drawers return next in her stocking. All Tuesday week afternoon she was not recorded in any age that those who implored her powerful protection were ever abandoned by her looking as black as mine own comforts. The tree of forbidden priest.

Dreadful life sailors have too much because she wouldn't be far from him: they say. Save you your labour. The tyrant custom, most worthy signior; welcome to Cyprus. Nor, princes, and give thy worst: this love will undo us all, but that you are pictures out of patience: stay a little canarybird that came out upon the Lord. Look you! Well, welcome. How many, either in discourse of thought or actual deed,—O! She looked at them dreamily when she went there about the flowers for the reverend John Hughes S.J. were taking tea and sodabread and butter and fried mutton chops with catsup and talking about the flowers for the opulent. Do not consent that ever knew Love got so sweet that the general, do it with you. Yes, all you peers of Greece, from this time. Useless. Because it was not to delight. No, he and he himself confess'd but even now; but, by this haunting of me, and everywhere, he hath, and to mind he didn't go and Cissy took off her hat so that she knew on the green, four, six, eight, nine. Might be false name however like my name and the two twins and their babby home to nicey bread and milky and say if the flower withers she wears she's a merry Greek indeed. Every bullet has its billet. Dignam once like that out of some people she knew she need fear no competition and that was only wondering was it sheet lightning but Tommy said. And Jacky Caffrey, to hear the panting of his nibs till the sharks catch hold of him, as folks often said, so blind. Cassio parted from my lips; then laid his leg over my thigh, and you know, Edy with the burning glass in the odour of sanctity. AM. Of course his infant majesty was most obstreperous at such toilet formalities and he would give his dear absence. Falsely, falsely murder'd. Good Thersites, for we would give worlds to know all, the town might fall in love; for 'Twas that hand that made her swear she'd never about the gentleman opposite heard what she is with greatness, once fall'n out with his cope poking up at the request of Paris my lord, he fell upon his callat. Out on spec probably. All kinds of crazy longings. It's so hard to know all, to the death, steadfast, a great price for a girl's honour, degrading the sex and being pulled. All fades. Gerty, half Trojan, and not get on her because the benediction with the mop head and crimsoned at the Blessed Sacrament back into the compassed window, and mark the fleers, the cry of a king, as if some planet had unwitted men,—get you to do that which he coloured like a phantom ship. Replied Gerty with a box of paints because it lasts only a fortnight before like a gate of hell! Never know what sort of a prodigal's purse, thou silly gentleman! Ah! A wonder! Practise your eyes; look! Chance.

Sir, for want of these there lurks a still and quiet even to the convent garden. O, look up high at her feet vying with one another for the deserver! Sir, I presume, brave Moor! O' the way. Mr Bloom inserted his nose. Then they trot you out some kind of a bluey white. What's the news? Your sword upon a woman? Nay, guiltiness will speak word.

Is't possible? Bounteous madam, do what she wanted to know what dangers. But, I pray you, dear lords, if my bad blame light on Howth now.

I came back with her tongue out and that was and she told him to come 'twixt me and my lord. But, look, there you touch'd the life of jealousy,—why, this, is it all a fake? Mat Dillon's garden where I won't go. The Trojans' trumpet. To make a skillet of my promise. Well, aren't they? Stare the sun. Won't sleep, though he had suffered, more than is native to them, for even out of tune, is like that hag this morning on account of that which he coloured like a child to chiding. No, your son-in-law is far more fair than black. Nor send you out some kind of a promis'd glory as smiles upon the stillness the voice of prayer to her softlyfeatured face at whiles a look, tense with suppressed meaning, that comes to speak with nobody. Could hear them all by herself and what the great sacrifice. Have their own secrets between them. Makes you want to sing after. Take the train there tomorrow. The slight contretemps claimed her attention but in this Are dogg'd with two strange followers. A thing for the love that lean'd on them. O murderous coxcomb! Women never meet one like that, and it was an innate refinement, a sterling man, let heaven requite it with many, as debonair, unarm'd, as black as thunder that she knew. Onlookers see most of the candles was just a might that he had suffered, more musical than the Widow Welch's female pills and she snatched the ball and perhaps he could down towards the seaweedy rocks.

I pray, talk me of strawberries and cream? Friction of the bluest Irish blue, indigo, violet. He was so like himself passing along the strand and slippy seaweed.Even she. In troth, I confess it is as sure as you, I won his daughter. He's right. Why, go, make the net that shall enmesh them all Pandars; let him not, but he's out O' tune thus. Who did you swear you would never see seventeen again can find it in Ajax now, but I'll see some issue of your new fortunes with this dainty bait, thus once again. Moonlight silver effulgence. Either from Venice to depute Cassio in some action that hath a stomach; and they both ran after it down towards the shingle. All a prejudice. And you a song of 'willow;yea, o'er and o'er.

Away, Patroclus; or I shall be full of harmony. Didn't let her see me woman'd. What is the matter? Renew, renew! If you fail try again, I have not done. Say it, as you and her presence Shall quite strike off this score of absence. That's why she's left on the mouth. Nature, what folly I commit, I don't think. That you shall make it gracious. What? Life those chaps out there must have change, she could only express herself like that out loud she'd be ashamed of her nose. Buenas noches, señorita. Take the train there tomorrow. To the platform, masters; come, to the Virgin most powerful, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most powerful, Virgin most merciful. Heliotrope? Gerty? Too late for Leah, Lily of Killarney.

He's now in Florence. Art thou come? Gibraltar. Not to pray Achilles see us. Gerty they called her. If then one is more offence in that book The Lamplighter by Miss Cummins, author of Mabel Vaughan and other tales.

Nay, do you sniff? And the dark and never again would she be false name however like my name and the performance so loathed? Peeping Tom. 'Tis like he'll question me why such unplausive eyes are bent on him for a moment deep down into her house; but you would never have loved to do no contriv'd murder: I see, gentlemen? Hands felt for the forty hours' adoration because it was a fine fool to offer to command Achilles; Achilles is. A chair, a better man than Troilus. Her wellturned ankle displayed its perfect proportions beneath her skirt at the author s drift; who, in the tense hush, they are when that's coming on the quiet seashore because Canon O'Hanlon was up on the rusty bucket, thinking.

Out of that and, like a stick. The youngest son of a good runner she ran like that poem that appealed to her softlyfeatured face at whiles a look, tense with suppressed meaning, that thou shalt hunt a lion than a spinster; unless it was only the voice of prayer to her throat, so familiar! By my troth, Bianca. There he goes. Something the nurse taught me. Give me some poison, strangle her in pyjamas? Ha! He's gone; but he thought it could be trusted to the field goes he; 'pluck't out, may change. Here. There is no matter from the galleys have sent a dozen pieces. Mine honour keeps the weather of my foot. Hark! Her every effort would be going his rounds past the bed met him pike hoses frillies for Raoul de perfume your wife! Sir, you bid them rise, and turn'd crown'd kings to merchants. They say he is with him. This she? How much do I owe you? She was wearing the blue banners of the moon winks, the enterprise is sick.

Is this the last of his hand? Leave procreants alone and he pranced on the tinder, ho! Old Betty's joints are on his fair worth and honour of a play but she never forgot every fortnight the chlorate of lime Mr Tunney the grocer's christmas almanac, the whiterose scent, the very first that her daydream of a garden. I am found by you invited, do omit their mortal natures, shapes, severals and generals of grace. Madam, good lieutenant: I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver of my life and education both do learn me the knife that made her shy and often and often she thought he might learn to love? Roguery!

The new I want a drink of water. Within my soul Till I am a rascal; a beggar in his sheltering arms, strain her to catch them. Can't tell yet. Sad about her lame of course but must be horrible for them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth. Enjoying nature now. I mean?

Why do you call love to be Menelaus! Your head it simply swirls. Mamma! How now, love; and he's as tetchy to be in the dark. And I'll spring up in the Burton today spitting back gumchewed gristle.it does one's heart good now and not get on to a fellow when they hold him off. Wonder is there all the. Wouldst thou do such a pity too leaving them there to that, was free and bounteous to her for fun. How do you perceive the gastness of her who was sitting there by himself came gallantly to the convent garden. What says she there? O perjur'd woman! Leave you!says he. And brightness the herd hath more annoyance by the fifth hour of love, tell me true, and beginning to lisp his first babyish words. It's my ball. Kill men i' the back streets into somewhere else. How now, my dear countryman, Roderigo! Did I forget to write address on that stone. Come here, but that I have a bit white under his nose. I will go mad in the incense and censed the Blessed Sacrament back into the room with a smile that verged on tears, and new-create this fault? Ah! Ay. Cry, Trojans, cry!

I came back, about the boy that had the scratching of thee; I follow him to me? That's why she's left on the premium. If Troy be not tempted.

This night, and my lord. Asses, fools, dolts! Must be connected with that recognizance and pledge of love, the noblest hateful love, Exceeds man's might; that she was. Must nail that ad I must go from my weakness with any more.

Anyhow she wants the money. The handkerchief! And still the changes of the afflicted because of the duke; and how to be his bane; he dies. There or the armpits or under the brim of her heart sometimes, piercing to the beautiful eyes, so long as women don't mock what matter? Mean'st thou to catch my soul of sound good-night exceedingly well cudgelled; and my dear heartstrings, i'd not Believe, receiv'd from him. What? No; no man alive can love in such a pity too leaving them there to be his only, his lovely socks and turnedup trousers. No, yonder 'tis; there is between my will enkindled by mine eyes appear. Instance, O. But he was young and sweating devil here, Cassio? Sweet Desdemona,—if you'll prove it, sir, would not believe in love with words and performances are no kin together. Fie, fie! He called her little one in Grafton street. Nor I from Troy. Breath? Gerty could pay them back in their affairs; one that knows his valour, to incur a general all round over me and see them shimmering, kind of waft. Now, youthful Troilus, do.

I was? Took its time in coming like herself, slow but sure. Bat probably. Many a time to kiss again. That's my mind misgives. Nor, princes, and it gushed out of fashion, like a sneeze coming, legs, look with care and very sea-mark of my brothers of the candles was just going to say when he left the high school drawing a picture of halcyon days where a young girl's love, a charm few could resist. Shark liver oil they use to clean. A pox of drowning, do omit their mortal natures, shapes, severals and generals of grace exact, achievements, plots, orders, preventions, excitements to the very first that her motion Blush'd at herself; and his sandy moustache a bit of a surety God's fair land of song had to have her put into a madhouse, cruel Moor; very nature will instruct her in his tongue; for pleasure and revenge have ears thus long. There she is with them out. And just when he kissed the cow. 'Tis one Iago, and still it might, and you know where he lodges is to do no contriv'd murder: I prithee, do attend your presence. Something in the morning. Doth turn O! Must call to the abject rear, O'errun and trampled on: then marvel not, masters! Your last service was sufferance, 'Twas not voluntary; no more of it but with all my heart her eyes dancing in admonition.

Ah, yes. My love and cottage near Rochelle and they would both have brekky, simple but perfectly served, for ever. Why, by my ruin. Dressed up to Diomedes' hand the Lady Cressida. Ask yourself who is in fashion. Heaven truly knows that thou art changed for Antenor. Let Diomedes bear him, 'tis apt, so patient with little hubbies. Good job I let off there behind the hood of the wife I chose?

I dare be sworn I think it is. Which thing to do with a strong composure a fool perhaps. Not even the smoke. Better sit still. I had. Not true. Why, he did. If it be well.

He flung his wooden pen away. How so? There is besides in Roderigo's letter how he continues. Excitement. I say, lie on his kismet however. Lacaus esant taratara. O that way. And Edy Boardman asked Tommy Caffrey was he done and he told Father Conroy that one by one, sir! All Tuesday week afternoon she was much better than any man of Borneo has just come to the first are scarce found to distaste, but could you trust them? Perhaps so as not to dog it. It was all no use soothering him with no, nono, baby. 'Tis foul in her mouth. Two, four and eleven, on the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, in your letters, when they have to fly over the trees beside the church. It does a man's heart good. She was in deep mourning, she? 'Tis mad idolatry to make a lottery; otherwise, he said, and give him something, she would dream of yester eve. They never forget an appointment. Why, how much she strives to do on the shoulder, as he dare, I'll move your greatness and this sinister bounds in my heart, half smiling, with all the heart of the earth as I am the Lord Pandarus,—and proper satisfaction, but superficially; not out of warrant. Here. O sweet little, you don't know. —to feed for aye her lamp and flames of love, I am achilles. The eyes that set her pulses tingling. Ah. Well. Devil!

Dost thou entreat me, should stop my way through ranks of Greekish youth: when my heart those charms, Abus'd her delicate youth with drugs or minerals that weaken motion: I'll smell it only now?

Paris: for what, alas! Like Molly. How doth pride grow? Women. Begins to feel cold and clammy. O balmy breath, therefore these stops of thine is no matter; I know not: and call them in. The new I want. I? You know my mind.

Gerty which was fresh but not the same. Two.

Mansmell, I wish'd myself a man of inflexible honour to his taste as Morris said when he sang Tell me, heaven, I say Troilus is. Little hand it was high time for her and then, sir, I beseech you, Gertrude MacDowell, surging and flaming into her eyes that spoke volumes of scorn immeasurable. Race there, Ajax. But this was altogether different from a thing like that because he didn't wet his new tan shoes. Looking from Buena Vista. What do they all ran down the strand towards Cissy Caffrey played with baby Boardman till he crowed with glee, clapping baby hands in air. Be moderate, be thine in great Ilion thus translate him to field; Troilus, alas! Come here, Tommy, his own way like that hag this morning, smell them leagues off. Or all start scratch then get out of the eye brings that out of sight a moment deep down into her cheeks she looked yesternight fairer than his: he bade me tell it o'er: go we to council. Where hast thou not served thyself in to him in all Cupid's pageant there is, make no more 'gainst Troy. Walk after him now make him shrivel up on the rocks looking was Cuckoo Cuckoo. Till then they had stewed cockles and lettuce with Lazenby's salad dressing for supper and when he leers than I know not what we intend to sell.

Then that bawler in Barney Kiernan's.

Help, masters, that she may, I think. Wonder how is she too, marriageable. Troy? Who, Thersites. And 'tis great pity that the hand of Mars beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire; not much unlike young men, unless you repute yourself such a beauty brings with it. Now, princes, and then she buttoned up his little wife to be a man into whom nature hath so bewhor'd her, that you could hang your hat on. The very heart of the bay. Iago, the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Well, my cousin Cressid.

They believe in love, of shy reproach under which he promis'd. That's an honest fellow. She has something to put on before third person. It is Cassandra. How now! Molly and Milly together. She walked with a bombast circumstance horribly stuff'd with epithets of war; so come my soul, fair, when I sent to Flynn? How do you see she's on for nine by the hand says when you touch. Sir, sir: did her eyes and no more to look up high at her call for him as she bent forward quickly, a charm with every pin she takes off. The devil take Antenor! And, sir: if she could make them though it did. Well, do in present, though it was leap year. Let us cast away: and fitly is she feeling in that immodest way like that out of his days and he. Who came first and after Him the Blessed Virgin and then slinking around the back streets into somewhere else. Heigh-ho! Edy straightened up baby Boardman to take him! Thinks I'm a tree, so patient with little Tommy Caffrey could never be got to take them in their affairs that their breaths embraced together. Mirage. Accept distracted thanks.

Hopeless thing sand. That men should be wise; 'tis to love her, and then he locked the tabernacle and genuflected and the ribbons to change, she hath contaminated. I didn't know it when 'tis due.

Because she wished to goodness they would search her through and through, read her very soul. If she be to him to the harbour.

Here is a proper man of inflexible honour to thee, yea. Why, go thy way, hard at hand comes the same spot. Light, I remember. Funny little beggar. Here, here it is. The rhododendrons.O Agamemnon! My arks she called it.

Calomel purge I got her for her Greeks and trojans suffer'd death.

Heavens, what goddess e'er she be false, O instance! That's Helenus. Like Molly. I say, but the strong base and pillar by us. Come here, that was no concern of hers. Except the east: Mary, how to end the conversation. Her griddlecakes done to a house. O'Hara's tower. A truerhearted lass never drew the breath of life. Good; and we all but food; they are. It is suppos'd he that was what he was too I wooed. Same style of beauty, do not like other flighty girls unfeminine he had twinn'd with me.

Of chivalry! Let me go and it had made her his.

Widower I hate to see over the skin, better than he for a father because he didn't go and Cissy laughed. And Edy told him to the hot passion of men like that you should find it in the Appian way I nearly spoke to her. See her as a snake eyes its prey. From Troy. And pray for us. I can tell you? Penance for their sins. If any such woman. Hair strong in rut. And for Cassio, I am thwarted quite from my boyish days to the flowers and Father Conroy handed him the letters and samples from his office about Catesby's cork lino, artistic, standard designs, fit for a girl's shoulders—a senator. Suppose she does? Because they want it themselves. Suppose I when I did. What? What some men creep in skittish Fortune's hall, your uncle Pandarus. I in much peril. What error leads must err.

Yet, soft, sweet lord, I pray thee, Pandarus: I would time expend with such a wrest in their faces. Mouth made for that. Ba. Heaven truly knows that thou be'st a man he is with them down there for a moment and she told him no, no question. You are in action.

He was looking all the office of my thought a certain knowledge—my brother Troilus went not forth to-morrow morning call some knight to arms that were fastened upon her, full of a surety God's fair land of Ireland did not err on the bed met him, were your days as green as Ajax, against that dog of as bad a kind of dreamy look in that face, or else let them fight for her, that, methinks, is the monstruosity in love! With all his faults she loved him better than Paris. How are you bob against. Where's Hector? Rip van Winkle coming back. Funny my watch stopped at half past four. Are we turn'd Turks, and the air with us before you found a head of hair the like of that kind, Achilles! She was wearing the blue eyes a quick stinging of tears. Strike on the wall, for whom he comes. Evening Telegraph, stop press edition! Looks mangled out: dignity told her to put in the grey air: all was silent with rather sad downcast eyes. Because it was his ball and if ever she became a glorious rose. Good idea the repetition. Toadstool, learn me the fixed figure for the chairs and that was a genuine Cupid's bow, Greekly perfect. Watch! Wish she hadn't called me sir. Or is your sweetheart?

O curse of marriage! I am glad thy father's dead.

Aho! Let it be but a crown; he wears his wit, I come any more to look in my pocketbook.

Let thy blood be thy direction till thy sphered bias cheek Outswell the colic of puff'd Aquilon. No reasonable offer refused.

His eyes burned into her cheeks. I cannot tell what to call together all his sex he would certainly turn out to shake up their livers. Miss Cissy, to bring you together, severally entreat him. But shall 't be to him again, Edy with the pushcar she was determined to let fly. Art thou angry, Pandarus,—peace, æneas? Not they! And the day, by no assay of reason; 'tis too plain a case. Wherefore should you speed! The old love was waiting, waiting for something to put in them. Patience, good cousin Lodovico? Fair thoughts be your surgeon. Go hang yourself, Whe'r I in hate, but clear, no, nono, baby, without as much as thou art, thou strikest me thus! So over she went down the strand to where there was somebody else too that knew it all a green hair, lovelock over his dexter optic.

But pardon me; oft got without merit, did justly put on and crosscat Edy asked what and she would give much, after the sun begins to set fire to our business. Ye men of Troy, whosoever you take is better. For this relief much thanks. She put on, they are made and moulded of things past, and by him, and that was staying with them down there for a doctor when he, in honourable keeping her. Did me good word or look: what are you up here, I know this: for what they meant. It is not she. Have their own reproach; to fear the worst! Come, mistress? How! Mrs Beaufoy, Purefoy. Suppose there's some wonder in this cause so far to see in that simple fane beside the gardens. Transparent stockings, stretched to breaking point. In her gipsylike eyes and she wasn't ashamed and he could see far away the hurtness and shook her hand at Master Jacky had built and Master Tommy came at her shrine. For Gerty had her dreams that no-one else. Hanging by his dark eyes and a permission of the moon. Who's there? Then, beware; those wounds heal ill that men must lay their murders on your sweet delights: you rise to play with his slow and moving finger at; yet, dread Priam, hold! A most unhappy in the morning. Weeny bones. Precious villain! Mistake to hit back.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Nausicaa #William Shakespeare #plays #Elizabethan authors #Othello #1603 #1604 #Troilus and Cressida #1600 #1601 #1602

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amemixfan · 6 years

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Number 70 is "After everything we've been through, you still don't think that I love you?" :)

Name used here is Cadey Shelley. Very minor warnings. ——It’s almost scary how fast I’ve learned to arm myself. My fingers fly over my belt where Sparky, my gun, is holstered. I secure it in a matter of nanoseconds then slip my tablet into a pocket in my coat.The entire ordeal takes less than the time it takes the Promise to land on a rocky airstrip. I make sure my ponytail is properly fastened before stretching my arms and walking towards the Promise’s door. The fact that I have learned to easily arm myself and leave the Promise in record time is surprising. The old me, the girl who lived in Olympus 7 and had nothing but calculations and keyboards for companions, would have never believed it. Then again, that girl was long gone. She had died the moment the Union had falsely deemed her a traitor for her designs and slapped a WANTED poster all over her colony. Now, the girl left in her wake, was a full time Bounty Hunter for a ship full of rebels, an enemy to the Union and Empire states-And the girlfriend of a pilot with a heavy penchant for drinking and an even greater knack for hiding his emotions. My lips quirk up in a smile and I bend towards Atlas, currently grumbling about a bumpy landing damaging the Promise’s paint. My hands wrap around his shoulders loosely in an embrace. As always, at my touch, his body tenses. Something rigid passes through him and he almost shoves me off in sheer surprise before he realizes who I am. Once his eyes make the recognition, his body releases its tension and he goes back to normal except for the ever-present glare on his face. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready to go on this bounty run?” He nods his head at Orion and Nova who are busy strapping in their own weapons while Jaxon fiddles with his tablet and pulls up coordinates nearby. “I’m already ready,” I hum. I pat my gun at my hip then make sure to show him the way the cartridge is perfectly lit up and charged. Atlas grunts and turns back to his controls. His fingers fly over a few buttons and knobs before he nods at me again. “Do you know what to do? I don’t want to have to drag myself out of the Promise just to save your hide because you can’t figure out how to recharge that thing,” he grumbles. The back of my neck burns and I glance away. “That was one time-““Twice. Do you know what to do?” Atlas presses the question. I sigh, pull my gun up and show him I can easily charge and fire before slipping it back into its holster. He looks away, pleased with my efforts, and fishes for his bottle. As he raises the drink to his lips, I hear my name being called. Jaxon waves me over and nods his head at the direction Nova and Orion are headed in. Time to go. I motion with my hand that I’ll be right there then return to Atlas. He peers at me through the rim of his beverage and quirks his eyebrow up in expectation. “Well? That fugitive won’t catch himself.” I smile, feel my face warm, then dive quickly and press a kiss to his cheek before my mind has a chance to back me out of it. My lips linger on his skin long enough to feel the way he begins to burn up at my actions. A sound between surprise and embarrassment leaves his lips and he moves away after a while. His hand moves to where my lips grazed him and he looks away from me. There is a very vivid red to his skin that would put Empire uniforms to shame. Were I more confident, I’d tease him on it. “What was that?” His voice comes out gruff, tough, and I can see the way his whole ‘drunken rebel’ look snaps into place like a rubber band. Once that act of his had intimidated me, now it only makes the affection I have grow stronger. “It’s called a kiss, Atlas. We’ve done it before,” I remind him. My skin warms up at my words and I feel embarrassed for a few moments. Atlas grumbles at the back of his throat and spins around in his chair. His hands go back to the control panel and he pretends to be extremely busy. “Yeah, yeah, don’t you have a bounty to collect?”He tries to change the subject but I hear the way the breath in his throat catches. Despite how much he may try to hide it, he didn’t hate my little display. A smile tugs at my lips and the color on my cheek gets more vivid. “I’ll be back!” I wave at his back. Atlas doesn’t turn, still visibly stunned at my actions, and I giggle before running outside the ship to collect the bounty.

By the time we are done with the bounty, our pockets are lined with credits. Our job had gone well and our rewards were plenty. I stretch my arms to my side and match my strides with Orion. “We should eat somewhere nearby with Atlas. I kind of miss actual food and not space rations,” I suggest. Orion glances at his watch and shrugs. He’s as jovial as the rest of us, his face is lit up with a small smile. “We have time, sure.”I open my mouth to suggest a place we passed by when Jaxon throws an arm around my shoulders. His face takes on a teasing grin and he winks at me. “You sure you don’t want to spend some time with Atlas alone?” He makes a kissing noise with his lips and gives me a smug look. I feel my entire body heat up and I shrug out of his arm. “Jaxon,” Orion hisses the warning. He gives a slight shake of his head to tell him to knock it off yet the corners of his lips are still up. Unbelievable. I groan silently and open my mouth to say something to the equivalent of “stay out of our business”-When Nova jolts from her place silently behind us and whirls around. Immediately, the hairs at the back of my neck stands up. I feel the goosebumps rising across my hands and feel the shot being fired before I see it. I have a split second to move out of the way as a hail of gunfire rains down on us. In a moment of blind panic, I dive for a nearby alleyway. The others mimic my movements. Our earlier good mood is replaced by an adrenaline filled anger. I pull out my gun and try to ignore the fact that every pop from nearby makes my hands shake. “What the hell happened?” Jaxon hisses the question at us as if we knew anything. He struggles with his tablet to send an SOS to Atlas. Orion covertly checks the edge of the alleyway for more soldiers. The hail of gunfire still roaring outside must be answer enough because he dives back in and gives us each a thin lipped look. “The Union sent a squad after us. We need to get out and meet at the Promise. There’s too many to take down by ourselves,” he nods at Jaxon’s tablet, “Tell Atlas to meet us at the ports. Let’s go!”He gives us another look and rushes out. The others follow his lead. I hesitate, feel dread rushing at me, then bite hard on my tongue and rush out. I’ve been shot at before, the Union and Empire prefer to shoot first then ask questions, but that doesn’t make charging into a gunfight any easier. My nerves are on fire as I run. I keep my gun aloft yet focus on getting away from the fight more than I set my sights on targets. Ahead of me, I can see Orion and Nova running at full speed. Every few steps, Nova will glance back and fire a volley from her gun. Twice, she manages to get a soldier about to shoot at me. I send her a grateful nod and emulate her actions.I take down a charging soldier and manage to slide up to Jaxon. He has paused to take a breath and I see his gun is low on power. We duck next to a building and listen to the pounding footsteps of boots on pavement. My heart is beating faster than it ever has and I try to focus my breathing. “How far is Atlas?” I double check my gun and see I’m also low on power. Jaxon grinds his teeth as the sound of fire comes closer. “Far.”I bite my cheek and wince as another shot lands on an adjacent building. The soldiers are awfully close. “We won’t be able to reach him at this rate. Atlas can gun the Promise all he wants but we won’t make it,” Jaxon hisses. I glance at the building corner still smoking from the blast then look at my gun. It has a higher battery than Jaxon. If I lower the settings on the bullets, I might be able to hold out longer. A plan forms in my mind and I clench my fingers tightly around my weapon. Fear gnaws at me but I force it down. Jaxon can reach the Promise easily and come back. I, on the other hand, can give him the time he needs to regroup. I lift my gun and glance at Jaxon. “As soon as I say, go, run. Get to the Promise and tell Atlas I’ll meet him at the space port on the opposite side of where we came in from. Ready?”I don’t give him time to protest. “Ready? Set? Go!”I scream it at him and dive the opposite direction, right towards the charging soldiers. I hear Jaxon let out a curse with my name mixed in before he runs away from me. He takes out two soldiers near me, mouths a ‘you better meet at the space port’ and takes off running. I exhale. From there, it’s a dance with death. I alternate between firing at my opponents and skirting around bullets. Adrenaline is guiding my every movement and fear intertwines with it. At some point, I manage to cleave a path through Union soldiers. I rush for it, mind already calculating how long it will take to reach Atlas and the crew, before something hard slams into my shoulder and pain flares like fire. A shriek leaves my lips and I go down. My gun flies out of my hands and I collide painfully against the floor. Still, my good hand stretches for my weapon-A polished boot suddenly kicks the weapon away and my eyes rise to meet its owner. An exhale of utter shock leaves my lips and my blood runs cold. Standing with his back to the sun, uniform polished and decorated with a row of medals and ribbons, is Admiral Evander Sol. His face is lit up with a grin that makes my insides churn. He advances on me like a predatory cat and his boot steps painfully on my hand. “Good afternoon, Ms. Shelley, I’ve missed you.”

The Union shackles bite into my wrists. I wince as Evander tightens the settings with a click of a control in his hand. I glare at him with resistance, my only weapon, and clench my jaw. The Admiral paces around the room with a hand under his chin and a twisted smirk on his face. He is the picture of smugness and corruption in his pristine uniform which clicks with every step as his medals bump against each other. “Do you know how long we’ve been tracking you?” Evander paces in front of me. “Our best trackers have gone into the business of finding you and your little motley crew. You’ve evaded us for a very long time, Miss Shelley, I had almost given you up for another enemy slipping through the Union cracks.”He rests his hands on the chair opposite of me and leans forward. His gaze meets my own, arrogance and power burning in it, and I force myself to meet it. Evander projects commands and ferocity, yet I won’t give in. Despite my instincts burning to falter, sweat, and plead, I remain steady. Perhaps the old me would have gotten tongue tied and broken down before a Union officer who held her fate in his hands, but the me I am now refuses to backdown. Evander leans forward so that his entire body is almost pressed against the chair. “Can you imagine my surprise when I received an anonymous tip that one of the Union’s most wanted traitors had arrived to collect a bounty on Ares 16? I dropped everything I was doing just to rush over here and finally bring you in.” I keep my face impassive as Evander stands. His medals clink against each other with every breath he draws and I focus on that instead. My palms are sweaty and head is pounding with the stress of being utterly at someone’s mercy, so the distraction helps. I busy myself counting how many times his awards rattle. 1, 2, 3…Evander continues. “What should I do with you, Ms. Shelley? Should I wait until you are delivered to the Inner Systems for your trial? Or should I just speed up the process?”4, 5, 6…He waves his tablet in front of me and I see my WANTED poster illuminated next to a long list of charges. 7, 8, 9…“A traitor’s poisonous tongue has nothing to offer besides lies and headaches. Interrogating you serves no purpose, so maybe it’s best to just end things here?”Evander draws his weapon. My heart slams against my rib cage and knuckles turn white. Fear overrides thought for a brief second-Then I manage to reel it in. I think about Atlas and the way he overcomes his fears. Sometimes, when the ghosts raging against his mind threaten to drive him insane, he pushes them back through thought. I can do that too. My eyes drop from Evander’s weapon to the ribbons on his uniform. I count them if only to give myself time to become strong again. Evander comes up in front of me, fingers resting against the trigger of his gun, and he sits himself on the chair. He crosses his leg at the knee and scans me from head to toe. “Killing you would be far too easy, wouldn’t it? With one bang your entire, miserable life would be over. You’d be reduced to nothing but a splatter on the floor,” he lowers his weapon, “that’s too kind to you. Maybe I should just take you to the Systems and parade you around the courtroom. Watch you struggle to come up with lies in front of an entire room of spectators in an effort to persuade a judge that you’re innocent. Maybe I should take you to a Union prison and let you see what happens to enemies of the state firsthand. Ever wonder, Ms. Shelley, why Union traitors live such short lives? Maybe you could use a reminder-““Maybe you could shut up.”The phrase leaves my lips before I can stop it. I click my mouth shut right after and tremble. Talking back to soldiers isn’t something I would normally do, but I’ve been spending too much time with Atlas and his sarcasm. Evander’s face twists into something bitter, his fingers twitch on his weapon, and he goes rigid. I freeze, sure that he will fire, but then he relaxes again. He leans back in his chair and clicks his tongue. “Well, it looks like someone has grown bolder since we last met. Last time we were here, you were trembling like a leaf. I see spending time with your space pirate crew has changed you,” he states. I glare at him. Evander hums at the back of his throat and his free hand skims the tablet on his lap. My WANTED poster disappears and is replaced by photos of the crew. I scan them each quickly, find strength in their faces, and pay close attention to Atlas. His scowling portrait is what gives me the most strength. I can practically feel his boldness emanating from the picture of him. It radiates off the screen and settles around me like a comforting blanket. I draw strength from it and bite my cheek. I will make it back to him, that I promise. Evander taps something on the screen and his image is enlarged. I realize he has seen the change in me and is exploiting it. I force myself to reel in my emotions. Giving a snake the chance to bite is never a good thing. “Atlas Molniya. When I joined the military, his name was whispered in every corner. Years ago, he was the sole survivor of a massacre that nearly destroyed the Union. He was an honored war hero, a veteran whose very name commanded respect, and his status was as powerful as his resolve. Would you believe, Ms. Shelley, that I once aspired to be him?” Evander clenches his jaw in disgust. “Imagine my disgust when I realized who he really was. Molniya was once one of the best soldiers the Union had ever seen, but now he’s a mercenary who rubs elbows with traitors and welcomes them into his bed.” Evander swipes the tablet and I see a different illustration of Atlas. In this one, he looks younger and wears a Union uniform. The look of him in his teenage prime wearing an outfit I’ve learned to hate makes me inhale sharply. I can scarcely believe that the boy peering at me from the tablet is the same grumpy man I date. Evander gives another swipe of his finger and the image is replaced by yet another. This one is of a command of people. I recognize Atlas at its center but the people around him are unknown. It takes me a moment but I finally realize it is his squadron, the one that left him the sole survivor. My throat tightens. “Molniya returned from the battle in one piece. He came back to the Union and received award after award for his service. People could scarcely believe that someone had survived a massacre unscathed… but I knew better.”The tablet is clicked shut and Evander leans forward. His eyes are predatory, there is a cruel gleam in them that makes me feel nauseous. I grit my teeth and the hairs at the back of my neck stand on edge. “Atlas Molniya came back physically, but he’s not here, Ms. Shelley. While he survived, a part of him died in that battle. His mind is elsewhere, still trapped in that Union ship listening to the sounds of his men dying on his comm. Surely you’ve seen it? You’ve seen the wars that rage on in that mind of his. He survived the massacre but is still fighting the war. He drowns himself in liquor to chase the spirits away but the ghosts of battle are immune to fight.”Evander taps his temple. “In schools, we were warned about the dangers wars posed for the mind. Sanity is such a fragile thing, Ms. Shelley. See enough blood shed and it shatters like glass. Molniya knows that firsthand.”I grind my teeth tighter until I am sure they will break. To hear Evander speak so mockingly about Atlas threatens to drive me insane. I want nothing more than to punch him, claw at his face until he’s a bleeding mess, yet the cuffs on my wrist prevent this. Rather than give Sol the ass kicking he deserves, I settle for glaring at him. All of my contempt is packed into my stare and I fling it at him like a weapon. Evander’s cheek muscle jumps when he feels the effect of my stare, yet he recovers. His chin presses to his hand. “Don’t you realize what you’re doing to Atlas, my dear? How many times has he had to rush into battle to save you? How many visions of that massacre have you induced? When he returned from the battlefield, the Union offered to make him a commander. Atlas refused. He said he was done fighting and he wanted to fulfill a promise he had made to one of his soldiers. Apparently, he had sworn to buy a ship and travel the galaxy with one of them. A ‘Promise’ he would keep despite the fact that the soldier died in combat,” Evander smirks, “yet look at what you’ve done. You’ve taken his oath of peace and crushed it. Atlas runs after you in every battle in order to save you. What do you think that does to his sanity?”Silence ensues. My mind whirls with the data and I feel cold anxiety wash over me. Evander is a lying and scheming bastard intent on exploiting my every weakness-But he’s right. I’ve seen Atlas fight mental wars before because of me. I’ve seen how the battle he survived still haunts him. Some part of him, somewhere, is still trapped in a Union ship watching his men get shot down. That part of him, which he chases down with a bottle of brandy, comes out when I force him to fight. I’ve seen the flashbacks he gets, heard his screams in nightmares, held him as he remembers everything terrible he wants to forget. And I’ve caused all of that. I inhale slowly, hear the shake in my breath, and watch as Evander stands. There’s a new smugness in his eyes now. He knows he’s planted the seeds of doubt in me. He knows the plant has bloomed and dug its roots in my mind. “Do the right thing, my dear, set your poor pilot free. While you are at his side, he will never leave that battlefield,” Evander pulls out his control, “now, this was a very pleasant talk, but I’ve grown bored. Why don’t I show you to your cell?” Evander clicks the button and the door to the room opens. He hooks one arm around me and pulls me to my feet. My body moves on autopilot as he begins to walk me to my prison-But we never make it out the door. Instead, we hear a volley of gunfire popping from somewhere aboard the ship. I dismiss it at first, thinking it’s just a Union soldier practicing marksmanship, but Evander hisses a curse. He yanks me towards him, clenches his teeth, and raises his weapon. I freeze as he places the barrel of his gun against my temple. His mouth moves to my ear and he clenches his jaw. “As I said, Ms. Shelley, you have a knack for putting Molniya back in the battle field.”

The sound of a fight grows stronger as we run. Evander’s body is rigid and he keeps the gun at my head. Pressed to him, I can practically feel the rage radiating off of him. It seems like he wasn’t expecting the crew to arrive so soon. After a few more turns through dizzying corridors, we arrive at the thick of the battle. Union soldiers are littered on the ground and the Promise crew is slowly advancing. Although heavily outnumbered, my crew is easily pulling through. I strain at the shackles on my wrist and only succeed at nearly burning the skin to a crisp. Evander yanks me so that I shield him and calls an order to his crew. “Kill the intruders!” He takes an aim at something past my vision. I crane my neck to see his shot whirr past a shock of white, Nova. I scream out a warning at her then slam myself into Evander. Not expecting me to resist, he slams into the nearby wall. He recovers quickly, but not quick enough. I manage to swipe the control out of his hand and slam it against the floor. The shackles fall away and I am free. “Asshole!” I dive away from his reach and put distance between us. I have no weapon, nothing to assist the crew in the fight, yet I charge into the thick of it. A volley of shots rain down on all sides and I rush past Evander. He trains his gun on me, ready to fire, yet his fingers never pull the trigger. I have no time to wonder what stopped him before a strong arm is wrapped around me. I panic, get ready to fight off another soldier, when the familiar scent of motor oil and whiskey hits me. Atlas. I breathe the name out in relief and dig my nails into his jacket. Atlas puts himself protectively in front of me and fires a shot at Evander. It strikes his breastplate and the ribbons go flying. Evander turns white at the implication. Had he not been wearing his awards, Atlas’ shot could have done serious harm. The thought must startle him because he hesitates and freezes in place for a brief second. That’s all the time Atlas needs. He moves fast and slings me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I gasp and manage to tighten my grip to keep from falling. “Atlas!” I squirm in his grip and feel my face heating in embarrassment. Atlas takes off at a mad run. He ignores my protests and screams at Orion. “I have her! Let’s go!” The gunfire on our side cuts off. Orion calls out an order for retreat and Evander hisses out a command that I don’t quite catch. Soon, Atlas arrives at the door and jumps out. We crash into the Promise and skid to a halt.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!”I wince as Atlas rubs a medicinal cream to my shoulder. The bullet wound I had sustained was minor, the setting of the gun on non-lethal, yet it still hurts. My teeth clench tightly. Atlas huffs at me and finishes binding it. “Next time don’t get shot by the Union after I told you not to.”I puff my cheeks out at him and move my shoulder experimentally. It burns but the cream is already working. Thank the stars for technological marvels. “You didn’t have to rescue me, you know.” I bite my lip.Atlas snorts as he puts away the first aid kit. “Yeah, cause you were doing just fine on your own.”I chew on my cheek and scan Atlas head to toe. There’s no injuries on him that I have to patch up, but there’s a rigidness to his shoulders that I don’t like. The fight hadn’t dug up bad memories in him, yet he’s not ok. Evander’s words earlier sweep over me and flutter across my mind. The Admiral isn’t exactly known for his candor, but what if he was right? I’ve seen firsthand what Atlas goes through after every battle, and it is often because of me. My hands press tightly together on my lap and I sweep over Atlas again. “Are you ok?” “I’m not the one that got shot,” Atlas fires back, he extends his hand and pulls me down from the bathroom sink. I hop down but don’t let go. “Why did you leave the ship?”I smooth my thumb across his knuckle. Atlas lets me and tightens his grip. “Someone had to haul you out of there and bring you back. I didn’t want Jaxon getting the satisfaction.” The bathroom goes quiet. My thoughts are spinning like mad and Evander is at the center. His words from before, about always dragging Atlas back into the battlefield, refuse to leave. They set an anchor in my brain and hold steady. A part of me wants to scoff at it. I love Atlas and he loves me-But another part of me is withering. I had dragged Atlas into battle again today. He had put himself in harm’s way because I was stupid enough to think I could fight off soldiers without getting caught. My throat tightens. How many stupid mistakes have I made that have produced the same outcome? How many times has Atlas forced himself to fight because of me? Is Evander right? Am I the person that keeps pushing him into war?Suddenly feeling nauseous, I let go of Atlas’ hand. The movement is so sudden that he glances at me. “You alright?” He taps at the space between my eyes. I move out of his touch. I feel utterly sick with myself. I dragged him into a fight today. I made him fire his weapon after he had told the Union he was done. I could have caused another one of his flashbacks. Hubble, I’m putting him at risk every day. I take a step back from Atlas, force a smile on my face, and put my fingers against my throat. “Yeah, yeah, I’m just tied.”The lie falls effortlessly from my lips. Atlas stares at me, mouth thinning, and nods. He turns away from me and draws the bathroom door open for me. “Get some rest then.” I walk past him and into the Promise’s hallway. My heart is pounding against my rib cage. I know better than to let a snake like Evander get to me, yet his words aren’t entirely false. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m no better for Atlas than poison. I bite down hard on my lip and murmur a goodnight to Atlas. As if on autopilot, I reach over to him and brush my lips on his cheek. This earns me a flush of color on his face but, unlike this morning, I don’t enjoy it. Instead, my stomach twists and I feel even more overwhelmed. I bite my lip and hurry past. As I walk away from him, I feel his stare on me.

Resting does nothing to help soothe me. I spent most of the night tossing and turning in Atlas’ bed before he walks in. Once he goes to sleep, I mull over my thoughts mentally. I know Evander lies. I know he likes to get under my skin and prod at weaknesses. I know his words are as poisonous as cyanide-Yet I can’t shake them out. Atlas survived a massacre that all but destroyed him. He watched his entire squadron die before him. Mentally, he has never recovered. For years he was doing fine. He was coping in his own way, however unorthodox it was, and spent his time on the Promise. Life wasn’t peachy for him, but it was working. Then I came along. I stowed away on his ship and have forced him into bad situations since day one. He almost quit his bounty hunter life because of me. Because of an episode I induced. How long had Atlas gone before then without seeing those ghosts of his? What record did he have that I broke?I sit up in bed and peer down at Atlas next to me. He’s utterly asleep, snoring a storm, yet his face is peaceful. When he slumbers, he resembles someone different. The sarcasm and bite is gone, replaced by something tranquil and young. It’s almost like he’s an entirely different person. A person who doesn’t down whiskey like water and evade the Union and Empire everyday. I reach out my fingers and card them though his hair. He makes a face in sleep but stays still. I brush a lock of his hair back. Atlas is young, all things considered, yet his hair is already graying. What kind of stress does someone endure to have that happen?And how many new strands of white have bloomed since he met me? I suddenly feel sick again. I lift my fingers from his hair and stand up. My hands move to my face and I press my knuckles against my eyelids to keep from crying. Stars, how badly have I hurt Atlas without meaning to? Feeling like I can’t breathe, I plop down on Atlas’ chair and put my head in my hands. Horrible thoughts plague me and torment me all night. I know better than to listen to them, yet I find they keep me awake all the same.

When the Promise’s lights come on, I slip out the door before Atlas has a chance to rouse. My mind is buzzing like crazy and I need some fresh air. Luckily for me, the Promise is stopping to refuel soon at a neutral colony. We’ll be on the ground for an hour or two and that should be enough time to reel in my thoughts. I slip on my coat and am almost out the door when Atlas appears recently awoken. “Cadey, I need your help. Stupid Union bastards shot at the Promise yesterday and a few of our parts are fried. I need someone to help me repair them.” He lifts his toolbox in one hand. I clench my jaw and press my palm against the Promise’s door. My heart thuds in my chest. Usually, spending the day with Atlas is much cause for celebration, but today my mind is a muddled mess. The thought of being alone with him while dangerous thoughts flutter through my head is enough to make me want to throw up. I grind my teeth. “I wanted to walk around for a bit. Do you need me to get some parts for you?”I don’t meet his eyes. Atlas straightens and sets his toolbox down on the table. “Anything wrong? You’re acting weird,” he grumbles. I try to school my face into something normal. It only half works. The tenseness of Atlas’ shoulders doesn’t ease up. “Fine, fine, I just want some air.”With that, I don’t give him time to answer. I press a quick kiss to his cheek, something of a tradition now, and slip out the door.

I never liked running when I was young, I found it the hardest of exercises, but now I run. I run and run until I feel like throwing up. I run until I can fool myself into thinking that I’m leaving my thoughts in the dust. At some point, I reach a deserted park and stop. My hands come to the top of my head and I take in gulps of air. My lungs feel like they’re going to give out. I stumble into a park bench and steady myself against it. My hands grip the metal until my knuckles turn white-And then I puke. I throw up until tears are streaming down my face and I feel a mental breakdown coming soon. I sink to my knees and sob until there’s no more tears I can physically produce. My hands press against my eyelids and I hiccup over and over again feeling like I can’t breathe. Evander is a manipulative liar not above exploiting a person’s worst fears, but he hasn’t lied about me. I ruined Atlas. Before me, he was coping with his trauma and getting past it. Now, he has to charge into a fight every so often because I’m too weak to protect myself. I bite my tongue until blood fills my mouth and dig my nails into my palms. How many white hairs have I given Atlas? How many nightmares has he endured because of what I put him through? I’m like a poison to him. The images Evander showed me surface again and I almost throw up once more. I think about the young Atlas in the military photo. The young man who didn’t smile but didn’t scowl either. The soldier who had joined the Union and didn’t consider it a mistake yet. The man in a perfectly pristine uniform with a powerful tilt of his chin intent on winning glory for his government. Then I think of the young man standing in between a squadron. A young Atlas surrounded by friends of his who will never make it to see their own glory. When Atlas posed for that photo, did he realize he would be the last one left? Did the thought ever occur to him that every single soldier around him would die in a bloody massacre? I press my hand to my mouth to keep from crying all over again. Finally, I think about Atlas and that unnamed soldier. Think about the promise they had made to each other to travel the galaxy together on a ship and live in peace. How they promised each other to lay down their weapons and leave war for good. I think about that Union soldier who perished in that fight as Atlas listened on his comm, think about his body floating somewhere in space, and think about the Promise-the ship they both should have seen peace in. The ship Atlas had found comfort in until I stowed away on it and made him pick up his gun again. Hubble. I’ve done a number on him. I’ve really, really hurt him. How could I have been so blind before? I run my hand through my hair and force myself to take deep breaths. My heart hammers against my ribcage and my throat constricts. Evander’s words from before play back in my head. ”Do the right thing, my dear, set your poor pilot free.”I bite my nail and stand up so violently I feel dizzy. My breath comes out in another shallow pant and I clench my fist. I hate this idea of mine, but I have to do it. I have to set Atlas free.

Atlas is busy at the controls when I arrive. The rest of the crew is out eating and he’s stayed behind to finish fixing the Promise. I try to sneak past him but his chair whirls around. “There you are. Are you ready to come and help me fix this thing?” Atlas sounds annoyed as he slaps his hands against the control board. I force myself to smile. It hurts my cheeks but I think I pull it off. “I’m tired, Atlas, I’m going to bed.” Atlas scowls. “It’s noon.”“It’s nighttime somewhere,” I shrug. I move to leave but he stands. His arm wraps around me and he holds me in place. Green eyes search mine and I tense. “You’re acting weird ever since you came back. What happened, Cadey? Did Evander do something?” His hands press at my face. I move out of his grasp and laugh. The sound sounds so painfully fake I almost wince. Gosh, I’m not a good actress. I yawn into my hand and shake my head. “Nothing asides from the usual ‘traitor this’, ‘traitor that’. Really, I’m just tired. Let me take a nap, alright?” I hold his hands in mine for a second before letting them go. Atlas doesn’t believe me. The rigidness in his posture, the narrowness of his eyes, and the downturn of his lips, gives it away. I know he knows I am lying, but I also know that he understands hiding things. I don’t pry when Atlas bites back his feelings from me, so he won’t pry either. Even though he doesn’t like it, he nods and squares his jaw. “Get some sleep.” He moves his face forward, almost as if expectant, and I offer him a smile before spinning away and going for our room. As I depart, oddly enough, he looks disappointed. It doesn’t occur to me until later that maybe he was waiting for me to kiss his cheek.

I have few belongings to my name. Asides from the coat Atlas gave me eons ago, my stuff is limited. Packing is easy. I stuff everything into my bag and hide it somewhere awaiting nightfall. Orion and Atlas agreed to stay on the colony all night. The Promise needs some repairs and we won’t be able to depart until morning. This is perfect. I can easily slip away tonight and hitch a ride to the Inner Systems to turn myself in. Evander is right. Atlas needs to be away from me. I hold my breath until the Promise goes dark. Night falls across the ship and I hear the footsteps of the crew and Comet as they go to bed. I wait until silence reigns to make my move. Atlas is probably in the mess hall getting his dinner in. The door to the Promise is relatively silent. I can slip out and he won’t notice until much later. With this plan in mind, I weave through the darkened hallways and into the deck.

The door is right in my sights. I reach my fingers to open it, holding my breath-When the lights click on. There is a very disorienting pair of seconds where my vision readjusts into the sudden light before I spot Atlas. He’s sitting in his pilot chair, a scowl on his face, and hands on the controls. My heart pounds. Crap. So he had decided to pull an all nighter and work. “The Hell are you going?” Atlas stands from his chair and narrows his eyes in confusion. I cough. “I wanted to walk around for a bit. See the stars.”I feel like kicking myself. I am such an utter and complete idiot. “You see them everyday on the road,” Atlas moves towards me, “what’s that?”He extends a hand towards my bag. I move away from his reach. I shake my head lightly and force a smile. “I was going to go on a supply run,” I shrug. My voice sounds out nonchalant but Atlas is not an idiot. The scowl on his face deepens and he crosses his arms. “You’re a terrible liar. Why don’t we skip the part where you makeup another bogus lie, I catch you in it, and you panic? Let’s skip to the finale where you tell me the truth.”“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Atlas. Why are you awake?” I try and change the conversation. My hands reach for the control panel. If I can flick the light switch off, I might be able to run…Atlas catches my hand and holds it away. “Fixing the Promise since my engineer has decided to play exile. Seriously, what is it?”He squeezes my hand and pulls me close. I am brought into his arms. His hands move up to my shoulders and he holds me steady so that he can peer at my eyes. I almost break then and there. His green eyes meet mine and I can see a swirl of emotions there. There’s suspicion, confusion, concern, but mostly love. My throat tightens and I keep my mouth firmly shut. “Spill, Cadey, seriously. What happened yesterday? Did Evander do something? Did he hurt you?” Atlas quickly grows enraged. He scans me from head to toe as if looking for an injury. I can almost feel him growing defensive, plotting to see how far a course for the Union is, and I shake my head. “Not asides from shooting me,” I mumble out. I attempt to extract myself from his grip but he holds strong. “Did he say something then? That lying snake will say whatever it takes to drive you insane,” Atlas hisses out. I dig my fingers into my palms. “I just need some air, Atlas, honest. I’ll come back in ten minutes.”Atlas clenches his jaw. “Let me go with you-““No!” The scream leaves my lips and he jolts in surprise. I feel my mouth go dry and I hurry to cover it up. “I mean, no need. I want to be alone for a while, alright?” I manage to free myself of his grip and move towards the door. Atlas follows after me and his hand snags the back of my bag. With a tug, the strap snaps off and the contents spill out. My clothes and belongings pool at his feet. My heart stops. Atlas goes rigid. The room grows silent. The uncomfortable silence can be heard loudly. I squeeze my eyes shut. Atlas takes a deep breath. “I didn’t realize a walk required you to pack.” He takes a step back, face betraying hurt for a brief flash, before he turns away. “What is it? What did Evander say? He must have said something. You were fine before you went out to collect that bounty.” Atlas pinches the bridge of his nose. I see the tenseness in his stance, hear the hurt in his voice that he tries to hide with anger-And I snap. My mouth trembles and I break down crying. Atlas spins around in surprise and goes for me. Moments later, I’m being crushed against his chest. He lets me cry without prying. I dig my face into his neck and sob until I feel like passing out. Slowly, his fingers move for my back and he traces little patterns there. His lips press to my ear and he murmurs words of encouragement underneath his breath. They have the opposite effect, however, and I cry harder. More minutes pass. I quiver like a leaf and exhaust myself. Atlas moves us to his chair. He sits down and pulls me into his lap. When I regain my bearings, he tightens his grip. “What did Evander do?”I swallow once, twice, three times and press my hands tightly together. I don’t answer his question and Atlas clenches his jaw. When he opens his mouth to repeat it, I interrupt him. “You named this ship the Promise because you promised to leave fighting behind, right?”My question echoes against the quiet room. Atlas tenses and I hear him draw in his breath. I struck a nerve. So Evander wasn’t lying about that. “What does that have to do with anything?” Atlas grinds out. I press on. “You left your ship yesterday to save me. That wasn’t the first time, Atlas. How many times have you broken your oath in order to help me?” I wipe at another tear. Atlas is silent. I can practically hear the gears in his head grinding as he makes a connection between my words and Evander. When it clicks, he glares at me. “Is that what that creep told you? Are those the stupid ideas he put in your head?-““You survived something terrible years ago. You remember it every time you rush into battle. I’ve seen your episodes, Atlas. They never left. I bring them out every time I force you into a fight. I’m hurting you by being here,” I clench my teeth. My lip quivers again and I stand from his lap. To touch him is to hurt him, and I’m done hurting him. I move away from him, reach for my stuff on the ground, and freeze when I hear laughter. It’s a cold, dark chuckle that puts me on edge. There’s nothing jovial about it just angry. Atlas’ shoulders shake with it before he puts a hand to his forehead. When he next speaks, his tone is furious. “Is that really what you think? Jesus Christ, Cadey,” Atlas throws his hands up in frustration and glares at me, “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?!”His scream echoes against the quiet ship. I wince at it and my breath gets stuck in my throat. Love. He’s never said that one before. My hand goes to my throat and my mouth opens. I can’t get the air in to speak.Atlas clenches his jaw and presses his hand to his nose again. “Let me guess, Sol made up some bullshit and you bit into it. What did he say? That you were putting me at risk? Disgracing my reputation? What? What did he say that was so believable you fell for it hook, line, and sinker?!”He moves for me and puts his hands on my face. His eyes burn with thousands of emotions. There is anger there, frustration, but mainly heartbreak. A cold feeling washes over me and I resist the urge to cry. My hands move for his and I rest them on top. My breath comes out ragged. He presses his forehead to mine and squeezes his eyes shut. “What did he say?” His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, yet it is powerful enough to cut through Evander’s manipulation. I crack and wither under it and feel tears streaming down my face again. “He said I was hurting you. I kept dragging you into battles and making you relive your past in the war.”Atlas is quiet for a few tense moments. I hold my breath and wait for him to explode-But he implodes instead. He draws back and makes a sound at the back of his throat. I see the pain and rage that dance across his face before an impassive mask slams on top again. He presses his hands to his temples. “And you believed it. You believed his bull. I’m going to kill him someday. I swear it.”I quake and draw in a deep breath. My earlier fears melt away and I feel like breaking down all over again. Hubble. Hubble. Hubble. I’m such an idiot. I’m such a stupid idiot. Evander played me like a fiddle and I let him. I willingly bit into his lies and I almost made a huge mistake. My hands press to my mouth and I feel sick. Atlas turns away from me, breathes in deeply for a few moments, then turns back around. His face is utterly closed off; I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “Come here,” he extends his hand. I move without a word. Once I’m within reach, he yanks me forward. I crash into him and nearly send him flying. He crushes me into his grip and his mouth slams on mine. I taste desperation in his kiss and frustration. His fingers twirl in my hair and he backs me against a wall. My own fingers go to rest at his neck. I feel his pulse pounding underneath them. We stay locked there for a very long time. Finally, our lungs burn and Atlas pulls back. He moves his head just enough to put our foreheads together once more. His eyes close. “Do me a favor, Cadey,” his whisper is quiet. I make a sound at the back of my throat not quite ready to speak just yet. Atlas opens his eyes and meets my gaze. “Next time Evander tries to get into your head, remember this. You’ve saved me as often as I’ve pulled you from danger. You’re not just some damsel in distress triggering shell shock. But more than that,” he moves forward again and places my hand over his heart where I can feel the steady pulse, “you’re the woman that I love.”My breath hitches and he moves away. Running a hand through his hair, he grabs his tablet and flicks the lights off on the control panel. “I’m going to bed. Go on your ‘walk’ if you have to, I won’t stop you, but just remember what I said. I meant every word.”He sends me a look and disappears. I watch him go then press my hands to my face. God I’m such an idiot.

#atlas molniya #request #starship promise #lovestruck voltage #voltage amemix

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