#mr. tallon
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Without Me
Part 2
September 2, 2024
School was mid. I expected it but I had hoped maybe I could just pass by and let the world spin around me. Nope, the first problem came after 2nd period.
2nd period honors English with Mr. Wilson, one of my favorite teachers but least favorite classes. I like English to a point, and we crossed that point 5 years ago in 6th grade. Now it’s just a class I tolerate. Unfortunately for me I am actually good at English so they keep putting me in higher education English classes and that’s how I ended up in class with mr. and ms. know-it-all, Violet Davison and Barry Saloman. They have been dating for 2 years and honestly they deserve each other, she can never shut up and he is first in line to correct someone over anything. That’s also how I ended up in the same class as Reece Tallon, a totally hot senior. The seating chart for class had me in the front of the class far left row, right in front of Reece and beside Violet. Violet seems to think that because Ii’m not part of the popular clique anymore that we are friends because she keeps talking to me about her summer and how great her schedule is this year.
“Look I know it’s the first day and all but I really don’t care” I snapped at her.
“Oh, I had just thought that since you had fallen from the top of the high school social hierarchy, you would be my friend” she replies.
I rolled my eyes, “I didn’t fall from the hierarchy.”
“You kinda did. I mean you were basically the second in command to Allison, queen bee status, now you're a nobody.” she remarked.
“First of all she didn’t rule the school at 15, she was popular but she wasn’t a sophomore superhero. Second, I didn’t fall off the face of the earth, I left a toxic group of people, and plenty of them are following suit.” I argued.
“She’s right you know,” Reece chimes in.
I turned to him, “excuse me?”
“I just mean that you were on top of the world hun, even i know who you are” he explains.
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” I snarked.
He raises his hands in mock surrender, “Alright honey no need to get snappy. I get that it’s a sensitive topic, why don’t you sit with me at lunch today?”
“I can’t leave Danni,” I told him quickly.
“Then she can come too, we have room” he answered.
“Are you sure that it’s okay?” I am skeptical about his invitation.
“I’ll see you at lunch today” he says, shutting me down.
“Y-yeah, we will be there.” I stutter out.
“Perfect see you then,” he winks at me then walks out of the class.
“Violet! Let’s go, "Barry yells across the room.
“Goodluck with Allison, you’re gonna need it” Violet walks away from me to go to 3rd period.
That was the first time I was specifically sought out by people today, the next was lunch. Danni and I used to sit at the center table with the popular clique and the jocks sat one table over but now they have combined the two and the popular boys and girls sit together to judge everyone else who are obviously so far below them. Theo is sat by his best friend and he seems comfortable enough with that crew I don’t even try to say hello. There's no need to try to rescue him because he doesn’t need rescuing, those are his people, and they used to be mine too. Reece is waiting for us by the door to the lunch room with a small grin on his face. He greets us kindly and kisses both of our hands.
“Hello ladies, right this way,” he points his hand towards the door.
“We are going outside?” Danni asks him before I can.
He walks backwards so he can look at us, “Yes we are, my friends and I eat in the courtyard not the cafeteria.”
“So we won’t be judged immaculately?” I asked sarcastically.
“I can’t promise you that, but I can promise you the vibes will be good. You will be judged in a ‘we think you rock and want to ask you to come back’ type of way” he says it almost like it’s been rehearsed.
He swings the door open revealing the lush green courtyard and 5 other people. They look up as we walk forward and Reece goes over to one of the other guys and hugs him roughly.
“Guys this is Danni and Lydia. Lydia, Danni, this is my crew. The red head laying down is Eve.” he introduces
“Sup kid” she nodded to me, she looked familiar, I think I had math with her last year.
“You're a junior like us aren’t you?” Danni asks for me.
“Yeah, I had math 3 with you last year” she responds.
“The guy laying on her stomach is Mack” Reece points.
“What’s good?” he says with his eyes closed.
“Then we have Olivia and Charles Mason, cousins.” Reece continues.
“Hey girls, call me Liv” she says, holding her hand out for me to shake then turning to Danni.
“Yeah and call me Chuck, Charles is too pretentious” he says while wrestling with Reece.
Reece gets out of a head lock, “and last but not least T.J.”
“Taylor Jackson nice to finally meet you,” she commented.
“Like Reece said my name is Lydia, and this is my friend Danni.” I say trying to keep all the names straight in my head.
Chuck puts his arms around Danni and I, “How did you meet our little Reecey poo here?”
“Actually Lydia is the one who met him, I am just here because she is my only real friend anymore.” Danni responds before I can.
“Yeah, so Reece and I met in English class today. I was arguing with Violet Davison and he interjected into our argument. We talked for a little while and he invited us to sit with you all at lunch today.” I explain.
The whole group of them seem to share a knowing look, leaving Danni, Reece and i in the dark on the context. Eve and Liv smile at each other having a silent conversation before they speak.
Eve is the one who says, “So you're the girl who made a big deal and left that Allison chick’s friend group last year?”
“Yeah that’s me, the ‘fallen’” I say.
Reece laughs at it, like I thought he would because he was in the class with me and was clearly listening to my conversation with Violet.
Danni looks at us confused with the rest of the group, “wait why is that funny?”
“It was just something Violet kept saying during second period,” I told her.
#writing#writers on tumblr#og#original post#original character#original#original writing#original work#story
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PANIC ON THE STREETS...
OF LONDON
“Panic on the streets of London
Panic on the streets of Birmingham
I wonder to myself
Could life ever be sane again?” - Panic, The Smiths (1986)
tw: blood, violence
The sound of music, clinking glasses and raised voices were heard long into the night. Events like these bring the strangest of people together, which is why some may have found it peculiar to see [MARLENE MCKINNON] with [ROSALINE DAVIS] arguing loudly about the last Ministry sanctioned event. Amongst them [ANNABETH PEBWORTH], [ANDROMEDA BLACK], [EDWARD TONKS] and [CORDELIA DAVIS] weighed in, though as some can attest that evening, some were more hinderance than help when trying to hush the scene that turned many heads.
But no one turns heads quite like [GILDEROY LOCKHART] who spent his evening rubbing shoulders with the pure-blood elite, namely [BELLATRIX BLACK], [RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE] and [REGULUS BLACK], who didn’t seem too impressed by his confidence and tendancy to talk about himself rather proudly.
Another proud peacock also drew attention that evening, [LUCIUS MALFOY] found himself a thorn between beautiful roses [VALERIA BULLSTRODE], [ANDRESSA PARKINSON] and [NARCISSA MALFOY] where the term flustered was quite frequently used until his cousin [CALLIOPE MALFOY] appeared and offered him a napkin for his “sweaty upper lip”.
Calliope signaled the chaos that was about to ensure that evening. Swanning into the event with a letter from Voldemort in their pocket, they selected Valeria as their prey, lured them into Knockturn Alley, had them wait for a moment alone and reappear as a werewolf. Claws extended, they attacked Valeria, waiting until she was unconcious to shift back into their human form. Taking Valeria’s hand they dragged her blood across their skirt, ripped it in a few places and emerged from the alley giving an oscar worthy performance.
Falling into Lucius arms, Calliope told of a wolf on the run who had attacked Valeria. Cordelia ran to her aid and began working to save her, but little did she know she’d have her work cut out for her that out.
In the distance a howl...
A werewolf burst through the doors of Mr Mulpepper’s Apothecary, attacking everything in sight.
First it was Rodolphus Lestrange, down in one foul slash of it’s claws. Andromeda Black let out a blood curdling scream, pulling out her wand and managing to fend it off long enough for Annbeth Pebworth and [DOUGAL MCKINNON] to help her. The group hit it with some spells that sent it flying into Cobb & Webb’s, before it took off insearch of it’s next target.
Andressa Parkinson was talking with Lucius when it advanced upon her, slicing her up with it’s tallons before quickly turning to Rosaline Davis where it clawed down her arm. Luckily, Dougal had sealed the monster’s mouth closed, leaving it unable to bite anyone. Annabeth then froze the creature, until Calliope Malfoy, still not finished creating chaos, muttered a reversal spell under their breath letting the wolf go free.
Annabeth and Dougal were not going to let it leave, but although battered and bruised the wolf was still too quick and made off in the direction of Hyde Park.
Before it could, it caught a scent. Familiar, that made all of the fur on it’s back stand on edge...
Bellatrix Black had been searching for Rabastan, confused as to why Calliope was in the alley yet a wolf was still attacking.
She’d seen that face before, knew those eyes, the markings.
“Corin Hale.” She said under her breath, her eyes wide.
With that the wolf howled just once more, long, deep and sad before running off out of the alleys, leaving Cordelia Davis and Edward Tonks to treat the wounded and apperate them to the hopsital and Bellatrix to consider the grave effects of Corin’s escape.
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MEN OF SCIENCE (SWAP)
• territorial Mabel Hunter
• territorial Stephen
• territorial christian
• territorial Father Dolan
• territorial Mr Tate
• territorial Charles
• territorial O
• territorial Harold's Cross
• territorial Simon
• territorial Alec Kafoozelum
• territorial Mr Dedalus
• territorial emerald
• territorial Stephen's
• territorial drew
• territorial Doyle
• territorial Mrs Tallon
• territorial Ellen
• territorial Lord Jesus God
• territorial Maurice
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“MYSTERY MAN IS NOT MISSING MILLIONAIRE,” Toronto Star. April 23, 1921. Page 2.
----
But "George Cox" of Verona Cannot Be Interviewed To-day.
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Where is "George Cox?"
The mystery of the "mystery man," whom Constable Tallon, of Verona. claims to be Ambrose Small deepens, in that the whereabouts of Cox cannot be ascertained. He came to Toronto on Thursday, and he appears! to have disappeared yesterday, after spending a few hours with the constable's relatives at 1985. Dundas st.
The Star called at the house this morning to interview "Mr. Cox."
"He is,not here," said one of the lady occupants of the house, "and we haven't anything to say concerning him."
"He has been staying here with Fallon's relatives?" queried The Star. "He was here on a very short visit, but he has gone," was the reply.
"Can you tell me where he is?"
"No, I don't know."
"Does that mean that if you did know you would not tell?"
"That's just it; you've hit it exactly," was the reply. The lady spoken to refused to say when Cox and his policeman companion took their departure, but volunteered the information that a "story" in a morning newspaper to the effect that the Grand Opera House barber had seen Cox at the house, was untrue.
"The man saw no one while he was here nor did he say anything about who he was or why he had come to Toronto."
See by The Star, George Howarth, proprietor of the opera house barber shop, Adelaide street, said he was telephoned to go to Dundas street on Wednesday night to see the man, but being satisfied from what he had heard that the man was not Small he declined to go.
The Star learned this morning that Irving Cowan, manager of the Grand Opera House, has "looked the man over" and is satisfied that he is not his missing employer. "He is nothing like him," says Mr. Cowan. "The action of the constable in bringing the man to Toronto is absurd," stated Mrs. Ambrose Small to The Star when asked if she had seen. the "mystery man" from Verona.. "Mr. Brannigan, who was Mr. Small's manager at Kingston- for twenty years, saw the man and states he is not the man. Sergt. Mitchell also is satisfied he is not Mr. Small. I suppose the constable is looking for notoriety and the next thing we will hear he will be in the movies."
#toronto#newspaper interview#newspapers writing about themselves#mysterious disappearance#ambrose small#grand opera house#criminal suspect#police investigation#crime and punishment in canada#history of crime and punishment in canada
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Survivor’s Guilt
Synopsis: The night Furya burned was the night Rhreas lost her honor as Matriarch. The echoes of the dead still haunt her. Now a hopeless drunk and skilled weapons master, Rhreas’s shop supplies mercenaries from all over the systems for a hefty price. Boss Johns stops in to buy a new kit for Luna, while Dahl and Rhreas rekindle their romance. Unknowingly to her, one slip of the tongue paves the path to redemption and ultimately revenge. If she can survive the new Prime Alpha.
Chapter 1: Grief is Best Not Shared
The memorial glittered and danced through the bottom of my glass. I caught the edge of the dresser to steady myself. Three glasses of Tallon MR-05 moonspit left my hands shaking some weak assed junkie. The small flame mesmerizingly danced until it bit the tips of my fingers. I held them in the flame seconds more, her nerves screaming for relief . Extreme emotions seemed to be the only one I could feel now. A fleeting thought about the junkie living two alleys down clawed into my mind’s eye. I shrugged away the nagging feeling that we may be comparably in the same situation. I raised my glass for another gulp of moonshot only to find it empty. Shit.
The bottle lay next to the fusion core and my squealer wrenches two strides to my left. The first step landed steady enough so I let go of the dresser and snatched the bottle. Blood started bubbling up from my other palm. I stared at it for a moment before pulling a metal shard out of my palm and hobbling back to the altar. I wiped my fingers over the statue of my sister and mother. My blood coloring their visages as is only right. Penance for my shame, our shame.
My current discomfort paled to the shame of defeat, abandonment, retreat. The night the death bringers struck, my sister sang her wedding song to a Furyan Alpha Priima. For an alpha, he was tolerable at best. Don’t know what she saw in him other than the coward’s way to bring peace between our two peoples. Who knows maybe her actions honored our people more than mine had ever. I splashed liquor into my glass as my tears cascaded unbidden down my cheeks. My twin sister’s voice always brought tears to my eyes, even now 30 years after her death I can hear the clear, penetrating magic of it. My Spinner sister whose voice brought all to her knees, even me on occasion.
I swallowed another biting mouthful and gagged. Shit this stuff was rank. The floor groaned when my knees buckled. My hands groped the floor for my glass. I kicked the chest behind me in frustration for not giving me the proper space to look. Music ticked my ears pulling from a deep place within me demanding the proper rites of honor. So I placed my head on the grimy floor between my hands and spoke the song I no longer could bring myself to sing. I could spin too, but my songs abandoned me long ago.
I gagged again, lunging for a bucket barely making it in time, but not before clipping the top of that damn tool chest. The ground at least felt cool on my back. Darkness edged my vision threatening peace, but I didn’t deserve peace. Dazed, I lifted my head to see the problem swim indistinctly before me. Pain felt like taking a breath after holding it in for so long. Maybe that was what I needed now, more pain, more physical pain. Maybe I could just visit the shipping docks and stand in front of the engine turbines. Maybe then I could finally rejoin my family.
I laughed bitterly. Death to date had taken the liberty to mock me at every turn. I survived the burning of Furya, ZM- 52, Tallon 6-R, and every motherfucker looking for a quick score in between. Always surviving. Always denied the sweet kiss of death. Fuck my life. I just wanted the pain to go away.
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The bell to my shop's high pitched alarm forced me to rouse from my less than comfortable cuddle session with the trash bin.
“Coming!” I gagged. May the Great Spinner strike me down for smelling as bad as I did. My mother definitely would have.
Tools scattered as I used the chest to right myself.
“Someone drank too much I see.” The male voice grated on my ears.
“Get out, Johns.”
“Mmm, no. Come on, let's get you to the bathroom.” He reached for me. I slapped him away with a wrench.
“I am capable of walking.”
“But not drinking,” Dahl said her back leaned against my workroom door frame. She looked dangerously disinterested, picking whatever invisible dust off her shiny armor, but her eyes glittered with a lecture I would never hear the end of.
“Move.”
“You left the shop open. Again.”
“Thank you for your unwanted assessment.” I pushed her. There was no contest to who was the better fighter here, and Dahl knew it. But she had this annoying, if not adorable, tendency to challenge me in all matters, mostly to my drinking habits or personal safety.
“What if something happened,” her voice pitched lower barely above a growl. Cute.
I rubbed my head and found blood on my fingers. Oh yeah, the chest.
I pushed her out of the doorway, marched to the door, bolted all 6 visible locks and three hidden ones, before arming the auto guns security. The turret spun to life, aiming at the door.
“Already experienced that Dahl. Nothing new and maybe I was just daring the next fool to take me for a fool. Did you miss the board of testies as you walked in? Added three new ones yesterday, and a finger.”
Dahl’s jaw twitched.
“Get yourself cleaned up and unlock the door. Our new recruit will be here any minute.” Damn Johns could be bossy.
I threw him the turret’s control panel and barred myself in the pathetic excuse for living quarters. I stripped off my cargo pants and undies before stepping into the shower. The spicket sputtered. I slammed my fist on the wall pipe. The water hit me in face at full force then died again. A few more hits and the water continued gushing away, washing the remnants for last night’s pity party away.
When I rejoined Johns and Dahl in the shop, a young kid, probably no more than 20 years, stood bouncing in place as his eyes roamed my shelves. I raised a skeptical brow at Johns.
“Cute kid.” I slid into my command center all of which consisted of a rickety swivel stool topped with the shag of a Terron beast I hunted myself nearly 16 years ago and an old desktop command panel. I drew my legs up to the last rung and typed in my passcode.
“Kid needs new gear.”
“Obvi, that gun is three shots away from blowing his damn face off. Where did you pick that up?”
The kid blushed, “Santana gave it to me to hold onto. He said it was his special gun.”
I snickered, “Yeah I bet he did.”
“You know Santana?”
I curled my lip. “We don’t do business with cheap skates and morons. Santana is both, and I have to hear it daily from his abuela who lives three doors down.”
The room fogged over until Dahl broke the silence. “He’s dead.”
“Good.”
“And his whole crew.”
“Ah shucks.” I tapped the prices for new gear for their newly adopted liability. “50,000 credits for gun and gear. 100,000 for time.”
A strangled sound squeaked from the kid, his eyes blown in shock. He looked between Johns and Dahl. Now there was a newbie if I ever saw one. I am not cheap but I am good. Nothing leaves my shop that I have not built, refurbished, and/ or tested to my satisfaction.
“I can take the boy for tonight as down payment.” I purred watching his face flush. His Adam’s apple bobbed madly.
“Rhreas stop teasing the kid. He’s had a long week.” Johns rolled his eyes and pulled another stool across from the counter to sit.
“Oh? Do tell.” I swiveled so I could see Dahl still leaning in my workroom door way. She smelled more of soap and gun grease than ever, mixed with something deeper, thicker. I needed to get a closer sniff to be sure, but it smelled familiar in a way that threatens migraines. She had showered recently so it was nearly nonexistent, but it tickled my dehydrated brain with the feeling that I should know something about that scent. Familiar but not. I needed a drink.
“Nothing to tell. We got a call from Mercenary Station P7, we went to investigate…”Johns started with a shrug.
“Santana and our crew got there first. We were supposed to pick up some criminal named Riddick, he’s the one that sent out the beacon, but then…uh. Yeah then he died after killing a few of my old crew and Santana.”
“Fun,” I smiled. I clacked away at my computer processing the stoic figures of Johns and Dahl who were clearly too tense for the present conversation. Johns was doing his classic eye twitch thing and Dahl, well Dahl had that cute shoulder roll she does when she gets uncomfortable and picks her left pinky cuticle. It was bleeding now. Made me want to suck on it and watch her lips quiver. All of them.
I drummed my right fingers on my keyboard. “So, do I get paid or no?”
Johns threw a zippered bag on the counter “Half now, half later per our agreement.”
“Scrumptious,” I said jumping off my perch. The boy jumped when I stood in front of him holding my hand out expectantly.
He looked at me then to Dahl and then to Johns.
“Give me the gun.” I said careful to fully annunciate my words. He didn’t seem too bright and my head throbbed in time with my waning patience.
He gripped it a little tighter.
“Come on kid. Give her the gun. I’m hungry and Gelfondo’s is opening.” John looked more tired than he sounded.
Dahl pushed past us. I leaned into her enough to feel her brush past me. She refused to make contact though. The scent was male for sure and musky. I sighed. The sense of familiarity now replaced by full blown annoyance.
“He smells nice.”
Dahl shrugged. “He did. Give her the gun Luna.”
Luna frowned, hesitated as he gave me the once over, then held out that piece of trash.
I took it and opened the barrel. Trash and more trash.
“What will I defend myself with?” the kid whined, his eye round.
I pushed past Johns who now blocked my case of hand guns and picked up a nice safe-for-his-age pistol.
I thrust it into his chest. “Be here tomorrow afternoon. I will need your measurements for your matching suit.”
I winked at him and he blushed again. Luna scurried after Dahl. Johns patted my shoulder on his way out pausing before closing the door.
“You shouldn’t… every year you do this.”
My stomach clenched. Grief’s twin sister Fury rose her ugly head in retaliation. Venom dripped from her mouth. I took a calming breath and unsheathed my wrist dagger.
“We all deal with grief differently, Johns.”
His eyes softened. “You should try a new way of coping then. Drinking yourself to death every night is no way to live. Go to the temple. Pray. See someone. Talk to someone.”
I laughed, “It is not every night. Just most nights.”
He nodded and turned to go.
“I know about M6-117. I know about the questions you’ve been asking on every system the Hunter Gratzner ported.”
Johns stood oddly un-phased. Even his shoulders remained relaxed with no perceivable twitch.
I cocked my head trying to gauge what his reaction told me.
“I’m just saying that if there’s a way for you to move past your grief, do it Rhreas. I don’t want to be the one to find your mutilated body or you drowned in your own puke.”
“Fatherly as always Johns."
I watched him stroll away down the bustling street. He actually strolled, leisurely, in all the years I had never seen so complete, so not angry. I rubbed the gooseflesh from my neck.
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Hello
TV SHOW GODLESS
COUPLE WHITEY WINN X READER
RATING SMUT!
I smiled as I stood humming my little tune as I stirred the stew for dinner, I put the lid on the pot and left it to simmer, going and checking on the fire throwing on another log, checking my laundry it was still a little damp, I went over to the corner of my little house and for a moment leant on the frame of the little wooden crib watching sweetie little annabelle sleep. Her little breaths and wheezes as she sleeps tucked up with her blanket and her little rag doll. I left her be and returned to my cooking but as I did I heard a familiar sound something so rare around here and even more so at this time of night, horseshoes. I was worried who would come all the way out here at this time of night?
There was a fantnic knock at the door
I took the stew of the heat and slowly went to the door making sure to hold the gun beside my door in my other hand as I undid the locks and slowly pulled it open.
There was darkness outside, the sky full of stars with a bright waxing moon.
My door was forced open more and my face held in two dirty hands he pulled me close to kiss him and instantly I knew it was whitey.
He came in and shut the door with his foot leaning against it as he held me close within An inch from him, his tickly stubble kisses not stopping for a moment his hands slipped down from my face to my waist, I held his jumper a little unsure where else to put my hands as he pulled me even closed squishing my chest against his own. I happily kissed back a little giggly feeling is sweet kisses, his hands wondered but I was used to it, he moved his hand to my thighs and lifted me up wrapping my legs around his hips, I did as he asked and linked my ankles together holding his shoulders a little afraid I would fall as he carries me across my little house still not moving away from kissing me and preventing me from doing so by biting on my lip if ever I tried, suddenly I was thrown in my bed he smirked standing over me as he undid his belts and pants wrapping his gun belts around the bed posts and kicking his pants off his legs and onto the floor revealing his completely hard cock with prominent vains across his shaft where he was so needy. I went to speak but before I could even get a word out he was on the bed and kissing me intensly holding my waist in a almost death grip, I happily kissed back moving my hands to play with his hair he began to push into the kiss but hold my waist close I pushed back unsure what he wanted but he pushed me down flat on my bed and kissed down my jaw, then down my neck, and around the top of my chest that my chest exposed, all while his hands worked on pulling every last layer of my dress every skirt and petticoat to my waist exposing my bare legs and well everything else to him, he slightly gasped and he revealed all of me. It took seconds before he jumped between my legs and wrapped my legs around him I giggled at little that he was so overexcited he pulled me back to kissing him his kisses lustful and sloppy already it took a couple of attempts as he didn't want to leave my lips before he slipped completely hilt deep inside me, I tried not to scream biting on his bottom lip as I felt all of him streching me, I didn't want to scream incase it woke annabelle. His thursts began immediately going from hilt to tip over and over burring his head in my neck kissing and making love bites as he slowly and gradually got faster and faster, harder and harder pinning my hips to the matress with each thrust, hitting the lovely places inside me he knows so well, I could hear his staggered breathing and his unstoppable moans in my ear, he moved a hand back to rub mercilously on my clit as he was not at such a rappid pase and couldn't speed up any more, the bed was creaking, the mattress sqeeking with each movement, I could almost here the scraping of the wooden bedposts on the floor as the bed slightly moved, I felt close and he knew it kissing me hard slipping his tongue inside my mouth as he rubbed and thrusted, I hit it rather suddenly tightening around him crawling his back and sucking on his tongue, but this only fuled him further, as soon as I had ridden it out he pulled away and blew me a kiss as he pulled out before I could say a word he grabbed my hips and flipped me over to my stomach my head on my pillow, he pulled my hips into the air and before I could let out more then a confused squeal he slipped back inside holding my hips in a tallon like grip as he thrusted hard and fast working into the juices of my orgasum, moving fast and hard almost recklessly, desperate for his own release, I could hear his stunted moans and groans as I knew he was close groping my butt and slightly spanking me when he could but not to hard as to hurt me, he pushed in as deep as he could go shuddering and shaking as I felt his seed spill inside me his grip on me so tight it almost hurt as his hips bucked and moved in odd angles making sure every drop burried inside me all with a gentle groan
"Uhhh... Uughhhh.." he groans before he completely stopped, he gasped for breath a second before he pulled out and laid down beside me in the bed, I giggled a little and turned over to lay with him too
"Some people say hello whitey" I laughed a little worn out myself looking at him laid in my bed on only his jumper and shirt, his hair out of place and sweaty, gasping for breath his eyes closed and hand in his hair
"Hello y/n" he smiled
"Hello whitey" I smiled giving him a kiss "I thought you where working tonight?"
"I was, bill came back early so he sent me home" he explained "sorry..."
"For what?"
"For being... Grabby, and not sayin' anythin'"
"It's fine whitey" I giggled "I'm use to you" I smiled giving his lips a little kiss "I would just like a hello before getting raw fucked thank you" I giggled getting out of bed and fixing my dress
"Hello wifey" he smirked turning a little to watch me
"Hello whitey" I giggled blowing him a kiss before going back to fix up dinner just as I did annabelle woke up and began crying
"I got it" he yawned as he got up and slipped his pants back on going over to her crib and picking her up giving her a tight cuddle bouncing her on his hip "hey kiddo, how's my little girly today?"
"She's fine, she's miss her daddy" I laughed
"Aww I missed my baby girl too" he smiled giving her a kiss she stopped crying so he put her back in her crib to play and came over giving me a cuddle "how's my wifey today?"
"Fine, I also missed you"
"I missed ya too" he smirked giving my cheek a kiss he went to kiss me more but I ignored him "darlin'" he whines
"Nope your in trouble"
"Why what have I done?" He laughs cuddling me tighter
"You said you where going to start pulling out, so annabelle doesn't get a little brother yet a while"
"I do not at all recall this conversation"
"Well I do Mr"
"Fine, I'll try to remember ya just feel too good" he smirked "come on let's have dinner, I wanna go again before bed" he smirked.
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Story of Mercy sisters in Castletown
On the occasion of the centenary of the coming of the Sisters of Mercy to Castletownbere in 1964, a local paper carried the following comment: 'By their devotion to the corporal works of Mercy, their care and attention to the sick, the poor and the training of the children of the town under their care in their schools, they have endeared the Order to young and old'.
It was a fair comment and a fitting tribute to the Sisters, especially to the pioneer group who arrived in Castletownbere in September 1864, making it their home and the centre of their charitable activities. Now forty-two years on, we reach a milestone in the passage of time and witness many changes, changes that the Sisters themselves could never have envisaged or imagined. We now live in a prosperous town where there is little, if any, real poverty, among the people, who are highly educated and technically advanced.
We live in a time of great opportunity and great liberation. In order to understand why the Sisters of Mercy were founded, as indeed many of the religious congregation, we need to familiarise ourselves with the state of affairs in Ireland around the early nineteenth century.
Ours was a broken and divided land, the Ireland of the Big House culture where the minority, mainly English settlers and absentee gentry enjoyed the fruits of the land and the labours of the poor people. Unemployment, poverty, malnutrition and illiteracy were their lot, drunkenness and vice were widespread among them. Educational facilities were inadequate and proscription of Catholicism had effectively excluded the Catholic Irish from the professions and from political power in their own country.
Into this Ireland Catherine McAuley, founder of the Sister of Mercy, was born in 1778, the eldest of a family of three. She lived in Stormanstown House, north Dublin. The only concession towards Catholics in her father's day was that which allowed them to engage in trade and non-professional activities, so he became a carpenter, builder, real estate dealer and gradually moved towards prosperity as a self-made man.
It was he who taught her the important things in life - prayer, the truths of Christ and integrity of character - but from her mother she inherited an amalgam of refinement and culture which led her to observe later that 'a perfect religious is a perfect lady'. However, the family was soon to meet with tragedy in the sudden death of her father. Afterwards her mother mismanaged the family finances and exposed her children to anti-catholic influences which claimed allegiance of all except Catherine.
After her mother's death in 1798, Catherine was adopted by a Protestant couple, the Callaghans. She went to live with them in Coolock and, because of her constant witness to Gospel values, she had the joy of leading both her adoptive parents to conversion.
In 1831, two years after Daniel O'Connell had broken the chains by the Emancipation Act, Catherine founded her Order and came with her seal of Mercy to relieve human misery in all its forms and work for the physical, social and moral regeneration of the people. The rule and constitutions of her Congregation were approved by his Holiness Pope Gregory XVI in 1835. The tree of Mercy was planted in December 1831 in Baggot Street, quickly spread its branches throughout Ireland. In September 1864, a branch reached out to isolated Castletownbere and under the authority of Most Rev. David Moriarty, Bishop of Kerry, Mother M. de Salles Bridgeman and Sister M. Xavier Kenyon left Holy Cross Convent, Killarney, and arrived safely in Castletownbere, covering the journey in a 'covered car'.
On arrival in the town they stayed at a Miss Greenway's house until a house was ready for them. (Some research shows that there was a family named Greenway living in Greenway Lane", at the West end of the town. It is now "Tallon Road".)
Some time later, a Mrs. Geran, who is described as a member of the Broderick family, donated a house to the Sisters which was fitted out as a convent. This house is the house adjoining Fr Sean O'Shea's at the rear of the Garda Station. The Sisters took possession of it on September 8, when Holy Mass was celebrated there for the first time by Rev. Fr Michael Enright. On September 20, these sisters were joined by four more sisters from the Holy Cross Convent, Killarney. They were: Sr. M Assisi Taylor, Sr. M. Frances Kavanagh, Sr. M Gertrude O'Connell and Sr. Martha.
This little band was the nucleus of the Sisters of Mercy here in Castletownbere. They were the pioneers of the works of the Order of Mercy among the poor people who seemed to have lost all hope. For a historical record tells us that there was in fact no actual difference between Berehaven during the famine and Berehaven then. Poverty and distress and dire want were visible in everypart of the locality - "vast tracts of land untilled and undrained; very bad public roads; dirty streets without flag-way or foot-path for the greater part; a fine harbour with out even a fishing-boat; not one landlord that owns an acre resides in the locality".
The branch planted in Castletownbere in September 1864 grew and blossomed over the years into the stately tree now over looking Bantry Bay. Mrs. Geran's house, which became the Sisters' first Convent, was situated at the top of the town, quite close to the sea in the vicinity of where now stands the Garda Siochana Barracks. Mr Thomas Leahy of Cork, a large land-owner and landlord in Berehaven gave Fr Enright £300 towards the erection of this Convent.
(This is the same Leahy who carried out the evictions of his tenants in Kilmacowen in 1907.) The Castletown people contributed £219 and a friend gave £50. The Sisters remained in the building for ten years. Then they decided to leave the West End. Why? "For the proximity of the old house to the sea, though pleasant in summer, was rather inconvenient in winter, as the tide occasionally made its way into the lower apartments."
In 1872, Mother de Sales, who was the local Superior, set about the building of a new convent near the parish church. The site was given by the Earl of Bantry and work commenced on August 28, 1872, Mr. Thomas Leahy came to the Sisters' Aid again with a donation of £1,000. Voluntary subscriptions amounted to £450. Dr. Moriarty contributed £100 and the proceeds of a bazaar brought in £150. On April 4, 1874, the Sisters took possession of the new building.
They were £400 in debt to the builder, Mr. Murphy, Bantry (who was a native of Castletownbere and father of William Martin Murphy, MP), but once more Mr Thomas Leahy came to the rescue and sent £500 to Dr. Moriarty. The extra £100 was for the chapel, which was to be built later.
As the community increased the Convent had to be enlarged. In 1883 plans were drawn up by Mr Galvin from Valentia for a new wing. But the contract was not accepted until 1889. £600 in funding was raised by means of a bazaar and a grand drawing of prizes. On the 26th of April 1890, which was the Feast of Our Lady of Good Counsel, the new wing was blessed and Mass was said for the first time in the new Chapel in July 2nd, 1890.
On the Feast of the Guardian Angels less than a month after their arrival on Castletownbere the Sisters took charge of the existing school, run by the two secular teachers in one of the two houses on the Convent ground. One of these teachers resigned immediately and the other continued for sometime to help the sisters. They got the other house fitted up for senior classes and by November the schools were connected with the National Board of Education and were working satisfactorily.
These schools, though fitted up at considerable expense, were only makeshift and were unsuited to the purposes of education; they were built on soil won from the sea over which high tides continued to ebb and flow and they afforded such scanty accommodation as to imperil the health of the children. So after the Sisters transferred to the new Convent, Mother de Sales, urged by Dr Moriarty, set about the erection of new schools.
The foundation was laid a little South East of the Convent on 31st May 1877 and the schools were opened on 30th January 1878. They consisted of two long rooms divided by a glass partition - a class room and Children of Mary's Room. They were known as St Mary's and St Joseph's. They cost £793 plus. Though Priests and people gave generous contributions the Community was £400 in debt. Appeals for aid, approved by the Bishop, were published in four papers The Cork Examiner, The Kerry Sentinel, The Freeman's Journal, and The Nation. Letters of appeal were sent in various directions.
Here is an extract from The Kerry Sentinel, November 4th 1879:
"The appeal which we publish in our columns today from the Sisters of Mercy, Castletown Bere, is one which we would strongly urge upon the attention of the charitable. For the erection of the Convent and schools, the good people of Castletown Bere willingly taxed themselves at an extent commensurate with their means, and were it not for the distress which prevails there both now and for some time past, we have no doubt but the parishioners of Castletown Bere would still make a further effort towards completion of their good works.
We can speak from personal observation of the excellence of the instruction imparted in the schools at Castletown, and we unhesitatingly state that no where have we seen imparted an education more thorough and practical, or more calculated to exercise a good and beneficial influence on the future lives of those instructed. We therefore strongly urge upon you the attention of our readers the modest appeal of the Castletown Nuns."
In October 1889 after many almost insurmountable obstacles the building of St Joseph’s School was commenced in a field close to the back of the Convent. The school was opened on 8th September 1890. In order to facilitate the Sisters to go alone from the Convent to the School the tunnel was built (Cost £27) thus connecting the Convent and the school and keeping the enclosure unbroken. The school cost £1200 and there remained a debt of £300. The principal merchants of Castletownbere and others held a meeting for the purpose of raising funds to help Rev. Mother Assisi to pay this debt. When Miss Julia McCarthy resigned her position as teacher of the smaller boys, Rev Canon McDonnel, P.P gave the boys (44 on rolls) to the care of the Sisters and St Patrick's School was opened for them on 4th July 1904.
After a short time, the school was recognised by the National Board of Education. Many boys who are now priests received their early education here.
In the early 1920s the staff of St Joseph’s' School depleted, but in 1925 Mother M Rosaire Corcoran went to the training college of Our Lady of Mercy, Carysfort Park, Blackrock, Co. Dublin to be trained as a National Teacher. She was the first religious to be admitted to the College, so she literally made history: she opened the doors of the College to members of all the religious Congregations in our Country. Two years later Mother M. Thaddeus Lyne was sent to be trained too, so the school was then fully staffed.
In 1932 Mother M. Therese Corcoran, (Mother Rosary's sister) a valiant woman of great vision and an outstanding educationist, began the Secondary Top in St Josephs' School and since then, all through the years, the people of Beara had no more worries about educating their children.
The school ranked among the best in Ireland and the pupils were always outstandingly successful, obtaining first place several times in competitive exams. From it, numbers have passed to positions in the Civil Service and to the Preparatory Colleges which led on to training for the teaching profession.
About 1946 the Sisters began to collect funds for a new school because St Joseph's was now in bad repair. The collection amounted to a little over £300 which they lodged in the bank. In 1954 appeals were sent out to all past pupils and to all Berehaven friends in the USA. The Beara Clubs, both in New York and Boston took up the cause and collected about £6000. Appeals sent to past pupils, raffles and donations brought in about £800.
This money was invested in 1956 until the country could afford to give a grant for the new school. There was no local contribution whatever. In the Spring of 1961 the Beara Clubs in USA sent another donation of £271 and in April of that year the O'Brien Brothers, Kenmare, commenced preparing the site for the new school. As the old site had to be extended the Sisters bought a field from Mr. Arthur Hanley and in addition to this they sacrificed a big portion of their own field. June 15th 1963, the Community gave dinner to all workmen and on July 1st the new school - Scoil Mhuire Gan Smal - was opened.
St Patrick's School was now empty as all the Junior School (boys and girls) moved up to Scoil Mhuire Gan Smal. As there was no secondary education available in Castletown at that time for boys, Most Rev. Dr. Moynihan asked Rev. Mother Rosari to consider renovating St Patrick's School and its environment in view of making it suitable as a secondary school for boys. In accordance with the Bishop's wishes the construction of Mean Scoil Naomh Iosaf was started in the Summer of 1963. Mr. D. Kennedy, Tralee was Architect and the O'Brien Bros. accepted the contract at a cost of £8,842 plus extras for roof repairs etc There was no financial help from any source, no State grant, no local collection or contribution; the Community had to bear the burden of all the expense together with all the inconvenience the expansion entailed, because rooms had to be taken from the Convent to provide sufficient space for all the pupils who sought admission to the school.
Mein Scoil Naomh Iosaf the first co-educational School in Ireland, opened in 1964 with 100 girls and 30 boys on the roll. (Some ten years previously we did have co-education, but there was only one boy on rolls! Brendan Hanley of Eyeries came to Mother Therese in desperation because he was unable to get a place in a boarding school that year.
She got permission both from the Bishop and from the Department of Education to accept him in our school and he was the only boy in Inter Cert class that year. He was later Father Brendan Hanley, MSC. The Secondary Top for girls which functioned in St. Joseph's since 1932, was transferred to the renovated building and classes were recognised by the Secondary Department of Education. Renovation and expansion had to continue to meet the needs of the increasing numbers. The immense blocks of hard rock yielded to machinery and gave way to two fine playgrounds as well as to shelters for bicycles. By September 1968 there were 220 pupils on rolls.
The care of orphan children being one of the works of the Order of Mercy, as soon as the Sisters came to Castletownbere they fitted up part of one of the houses on the Convent ground as a small orphanage. The Annals say that an amount of good was effected in this small building.
But the work was abandoned in 1874 when the sisters moved to the new Convent. Orphans were numerous in Beara because of the occurrence of fever and other contagious diseases arising from the poverty of the people and also because of the many fathers who lost their lives fishing. For all these children there was no provision now but the Workhouse where they grew up without any domestic or industrial training.
After much prayer and consideration, the sisters decided to establish an orphanage in connection with their Convent. Rev. Mother Assisi discussed the project with Father Dan Harrington, a native of Castletownbere, and President of St. Michael's College, Listowel at the time. He encouraged the undertaking and promised to go to the USA to collect funds if the Bishop approved.
Most Rev. Dr. Andrew Higgins fully approved of the enterprise and gave Father Harrington a letter of recommendation. A collection was made in Castletownbere on 24th September 1883 by the two curate, Father Pierce and Garvey and a concert was held too.
The people gave according to their means. The priests of the diocese generously and promptly responded to the appeal and the Bishop gave £20.
Father Dan Harrington sailed for the USA on February 3rd, 1884 and after a terrible voyage of 14 days landed safely in New York. For over a years, he travelled about questing for funds; the sacrifices he made and the difficulties he encountered and the hardships he endured in this cause are known only to God.
Several times he wrote to the sister keeping them au fait with his success. One letter tells how all the Berehaven people received him with open arms. He collected money in New York, in Boston and made "a fruitless journey" as far as Lake Superior. On one occasion he sent a cheque for £300 "most of which was received from natives of Donegal, Derry and Tyrone." In all he collected £1,000.
In March, 1886, the community bought Denis Neill's field as a site for the orphanage. They gave another field in exchange for it plus £155. By 1891 the building was completed and the next step was to apply for the existing grant, allocated by an act of parliament to industrial schools for the maintenance and clothing of orphans.
The Lord Lieutenant and his suite visited Castletown Bere on May 8th just when the orphanage was finished. Mother Assisi invited him to see it and asked him for the Government grant. He promised to do his best, but was not at all sanguine that the Treasury would vote the grant as £100,000 was already being spent on Industrial Schools in Ireland.
Petitions were addressed to the Lord Lieutenant on various occasions afterwards, but all to no avail; the grant was never given, and so the orphanage never sanctioned as such. In 1904 the building became St. Patrick's School and in 1963 it was completely remodelled and became Mean Scoil Naomh Iosaf.
Mercy is all embracing and can never do enough. Many waters cannot quench it, no floods can sweep it away. During their early years in Beara the Sisters hastened to meet the various needs all around them. Repeatedly we read in the Annals that they gave breakfast to the poor children attending school.
They also collected clothes for them even from the USA. Sister M. Francis Clare (Kenmare Convent) sent regular donations of £50 for the poor. On one occasion, February 1880, some of this money was given to Canon Carmody to provide Spillers (fishinglines) for the fisherman of Bere Island and Deeshert, seed potatoes and meal were bought to others.
December 26th 1895, the Sisters were requested by the Board of Guardians to take charge of the Workhouse. They were only too glad to accept as they longed to help the sick and dying. Mother M. Xavier O'Connell; and Mother Margaret Mary Griffin were the first Sisters appointed for this work. A plan was drawn up for the convent and changes in the wards. Work started in March 1896. In the meantime four sisters set out to visit the hospitals in Killarney, Tralee and Listowel in order to acquire a knowledge of hospital duties. When they returned in June the Convent was almost completed; they took possession of it July 1st and called it St. Joseph's.
A lace class granted by the Congested District Board, was opened in Castletownbere on 10th March, 1906. Miss Mary Roche was the first teacher. At a later date this industry was taken over by the sisters. The industry flourished' employment and training in machine knitting and in the making of Limerick Lace were given to many girls in Beara. The Lace Class was discontinued in the late 1940's.
In the days when the sisters resided up town the first "invasion" of the tide in to the lower apartments was a memorable one! It was the 29th January, Rev. Mother de Dales' Feast Day.
Early in the morning one of the Sisters proceeded to the kitchen and as panic-stricken to find the dainties prepared for the feast floating on the waves. She thought she could save them, but she emerged minus a shoe!
Imagine Pope Leo XIII was acquainted of a bazaar held in Castletownbere in 1888 in aid of St Joseph's School! He sent an exquisite Cameo as one of the prizes. Small wonder that it headed the long list of 69 prizes!
Even the Royalty visited Castletownbere! On July 31st, 1903 the town had one glorious hour when King Edward VII and his Queen Alexandria passed through the streets. The children of the parish too had one great feast with the £12 given them to commemorate the Royal Visit.
Because of the convent being founded from Killarney, it remained affiliated with it under a local Superior until 1878. That year Most Rev. Dr. McCarthy decided that it should become an independent house and on October 4th, he appointed Sister Mary Assisi Taylor first Mother Superior of the Convent.
Since then all through the years the Convent kept its autonomy and flourished under the authority of a long line of dedicated and competent Superiors. On April 28, 1973 the two hundred Mercy Sisters in the diocese were amalgamated and the Castletownbere Superior, Mother M Philomena Harrington, was elected the first Mother General of the group: Once again the convent had a local superior, as in the early days superiors came to Castletownbere from Killarney and Tralee.
The first schools the Sisters had in Castletown were situated in the West End until 1878, when they were transferred to new building near the convent. When the new Community School was built in Cametringane some of the sisters were teaching up town again.
As a result of all her labours and exertions, Mother M de Sales, the foundress of the Convent, returned in very delicate health to Killarney in July 1878 and she died there seven years later. It is significant that almost a century later another great "builder" of the local community - Mother M Therese Corvoran, the last one to join the glorious galaxy of those gone before them - that she, too wore herself out in the service of her children and of the people of Beara.
For during the last eight years of her life she paid the price for her unselfish giving and total commitment to the Lord. Yes, History does repeat!
In its hey-day, the convent owned a farm which extended along the old river road at Toormore and also had a large herd of milking cows. They made their own butter and kept a large garden, as well as a good orchard, which we well remember for its fine apples.
Over the past number of years, painful decisions have had to be taken. In 1971 the Sisters of Mercy in the Kerry Diocese amalgamated and in 1994 those of the whole country. With a view to the future and in line with modern thinking, the nuns left their big Convent in December 1989 and moved to smaller groups into smaller residences which were built near St Joseph's Hospital.
The old convent building is now a hostel. The twenty-first century Ireland, though having its own special needs, has outgrown the needs of the nineteenth century, and one can say that Catherine McAuley's vision for society then, had come to fruition in our time, in that we enjoy many privileges among which are free education, free health care for those in need, a social service which caters for the poorer section, and we live in a time when the old and infirm are well catered for.
It was not from chance or mere accident or just for the sake of a name that the Castletownbere Convent was called "Divine Providence". These two words enshrine for the nuns a wealth and a heritage over the years and treasured beyond all the gold in the world.
For them, Divine Providence was their Heavenly Father, watching over them, taking care of them and providing for them and doing everything a good father does for his children. For the history of their convent to the story of God's fatherly care, visible and tangible at all times down the years.
So often the tender "branch" swayed and rocked beneath the force of violent storms of problems and pressures of financial difficulties and anxieties, of sickness and death, but it never broke.
The winds of death started as early as 1870 and on three occasions swept away the young - Sister Bridget Murphy in 1870 was still a novice; Sister M. Fincarr Murphy in 1916 had been just eight years a nun; Sister M. Patricia Kelly in 1940 was only thirty-six years.
At its peak the convent had some twenty-four sisters, now sadly the numbers are down to five plus two sisters in hospital in Tralee. When we visited the little cemetery at the rear of the old Convent, we counted forty-four graves.
Writing some years ago, one of the sisters said the following: "Dear Sisters - our Community in Heaven, as we lovingly call you, we dedicate these pages to you and to the memory of your great deeds which we have endeavoured to recount. We will remember you forever with unbreakable affection, with admiration, with gratitude and with nostalgia.
"No one among us now in Divine Providence knows you all, but all of us know many of you. We have lived with you and walked with you and talked with you and laboured with you. We sat at your bedside and we nursed you and we have accompanied you to your resting place.
"We miss you- life is not the same without you. But we continue to show our trust and gratitude to our Heavenly Father by accepting a new manifestation of His love in this change. We carry on your work as best we can. We strive to be totally committed and dedicated to Christ like you.
"Despite any trappings of riches acquired by us in recent years we want to be pure of heart and poor in fact just like you - you really had nothing. Life to you was Christ and now death had brought you something more, for what you desired, you now see, and you will sing forever of the Lord's love.
"We are still 'racing for the finish' and we look forward to rejoining you on the great Eternal Shore. I bParrthas na nGrast go rabhaimid."
Courtesy of the Southern Star
05/08/2006
A teacher resigned when the sisters took over the local school!!!!!
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LAUNCH OF TASK FORCE: BUILDING HOPE
Archbishop Dermot Farrell has attended the first meeting of the Task Force on a Church for the Dublin Archdiocese of Tomorrow which he has established under the title, Building Hope.
The Task Force is chaired by Very Rev Monsignor Ciaran O’Carroll, Episcopal Vicar for Clergy and Administrator of Donnybrook Parish.
Speaking to the members at the first meeting, Archbishop Farrell said: ‘I am very pleased that the Task Force reflects the diversity of the Archdiocese of Dublin, in terms of geography, expertise and the balance between lay and clerical, and male and female members. The dialogue within the Task Force will stimulate engagement with the whole diocesan family and shape an inclusive approach to a pastoral strategy appropriate to our times.’
The Archbishop said that the terms of reference which he has given to the Task Force begin with an assessment of the needs of the people of the Archdiocese emerging from COVID-19. He expects its work to support parish communities to undertake a radical renewal, looking to the future with creativity. The Archbishop stressed his expectation that the Task Force will enable the Archdiocese of Dublin to act now, so as to give effective witness and service in the years ahead.
In addition to Monsignor O’Carroll, the members of the Task Force are:
Mr Tom Foley
Ms Marie Therese Kilmartin
Ms Rosemary Lavelle
Ms Christina Malone
Ms Laurie Mannix
Rev Dermot McCarthy
Ms Rose McGowan
Sr Bernadette McMahon DC
Very Rev Liam Canon Rigney
Very Rev Donal Roche
Very Rev Bryan Shortall OFMCap
Ms Geraldine Tallon
Very Rev Paul Thornton.
The Archbishop has appointed as Consultors to the Task Force Rt Rev Msgr John Dolan, Dr Donal Harrington and Rev Dr Michael Shortall. The secretary to the Task Force Is Rev Robert Smyth.
The Archbishop has asked the Task Force to present an interim report by the end of June and to conclude its work by the end of the summer.
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Sarà normale... Una voglia di torturati piccola insignificante tossica dai facili costumi, e tu pazza egocentrica invidiosa. Due persone inutili che meritano di morire. E lo immagino. Immagino di strapparvi le unghie, rasarvi a zero e farvi mangiare i capelli, tagliarvi la lingua lentamente, appendervi a testa in giù per i genitali e uccidere con un colpo di pistola i vostri cari e prima che moriate dissanguate legarvi per terra assistere a me che vi scopo davanti e faccio innamorare la persona che amate, poi farvi sgozzare da lui a sangue freddo mentre io godo.
Non mi avete fatto nulla.
Ho un lato che è meglio che rimanga nascosto.
La psicologa dice che sono gli altri sbagliati io sono solo sofferente, lo dite tutti.
Io sono solo una piccola bambina indifesa e ferita.
Si non mi sono mai difesa. Non l' ho fatto perché ciò che potrei fare è il male puro.
Alle volte mi sento così amorevole con il mondo ma poi appare lei.
E io mi immagino avervi sotto agli occhi e riempirvi di pugni così forti da farvi vomitare sangue.
Non sono così buona.
Lo sono troppo. E troppo cattiva.
Avete ragioni psichiatri sono una borderline ma aveva ragione il mio vecchio psicologo a darmi dell antisociale. NON HO SENSI DI COLPA.
Se solo la parte buona stesse zitta avrei ognuno ai miei cazzo di piedi.
SO COSA VUOLE OGNI SINGOLO INDIVIDUO CHE INCONTRO.
Le leggo le persone, mi basta una giornata e so già i vostri incubi peggiori se non vi amo. In tal caso sono confusa. L' amore è il mio tallone d'Achille.
Sono brava a recitare ogni singola parte che voi state cercando, ho imparato dai migliori sociopatici narcisisti.
Sono cattiva, anche. Cattiva fino al midollo. Misogina. O stai con me o sei mio nemico.
Ho una voglia totale di distruzione.
Di creare di caos e di farvi male a tutti, ma per non farlo lo faccio a me.
Mi taglio fin quando non vedo il sangue scorrere.
Immaginando che sia il vostro.
E piango ridendo.
"ma si tu non hai problemi" dichiarata stabile da un sacco di medici. Nessuno mi conosce veramente. Potrei sorriderti un momento e quello dopo odiarti. Dirti di volerti proteggere e farti del male.
Sono una streghe dei giochi sadomasochisti dove o vinco o tu perdi.
Sono come Inuyasha che vuole solo un abbraccio dalla sua Kagome, solo lei spegne il demone. Solo lui può farlo.
E se qualcuno osa rubarmi il posto, qualunque posto io decida di prendere, gli rovinerò la vita. In ogni fottuto modo.
Mania mania mania depressione ansia rabbia furia rabbia rabbia tristezza vuoto infinito vuoto ... Desiderio di morte morte MORTE MORTE MORTE.
Sputo veleno. Sono uno scorpione d'altronde. Nemici subito se tocchi ciò che è mio. Nessuna pietà. RECITO LA PARTE DELL'EMPATICA come un intelligenza artificiale, perfetta ma completamente fredda, e nessuno se ne accorge che quella è solo una delle mie tante maschere.
Ce ne sono così tante che non so più quale sia la mia vera faccia.
Teatrino, gioco, bambolina rotta. Bambolina che voleva fare la ballerina ma le hanno staccato un piede a morsi. E ringhia dietro la vetrina con la faccia rotta. E sanguina squartata dal "mi fai un pompino per 500 euro?" Lei piange guardando il suo AMICO. "Ma sono tanti soldi!" Lei rifiuta disgustata e un altra ferita. "Ti tocco il culo!" "Dammela ti ho offerto un drink" "il tuo lavoro e provarci un po' con i clienti" "nessuno ti ama perché sei una persona orribile" "sei troppo magra troppo grassa troppo sbagliata" "la tua casa è una merda" "se ti posso scopare ti aiuto" "ti ascolto ma ecco senti i miei problemi"... E a te che ti sono stata vicino con tutto il mio amore e hai più volte abusato di me. E io che mi son presa le colpe per difenderti perché pensavo fossi come me. E tutti voi che mi avete trattata come un oggetto usata e poi buttata via. Alle amiche che non sono mai state amiche. Ai genitori che non hanno capito in tempo quanto schifo ci fosse dentro di me.
Esce lei. Lei lei lei lei. Protettore distaccato dice la psicologa. Per me è il demonio. Una narcisista in fase bipolare maniacale con tendenze borderline antisociale e UN DISTURBO DI DISADATTAMENTO.
SI. Mi hanno detto cosi. Disadattata.
Pensano che per qualche soldo al mese io stia meglio. Ma una vita da disadattata me l hanno fatta vivere e forse mi piace anche.
Voi tutti normali io vorrei spaccare il mondo. Distruggerlo e ricrearlo senza il male che ci ha forgiato.
Ma alla fine come nel finale di mr robot passiamo una vita a scappare dai nostri traumi quasi dimenticandocene per poi ritrovarci a doverlo affrontare e anche se hai provato a rivoluzionare il mondo ti ritroverai sempre con i tuoi demoni in questo fottuto schifoso mondo ingiusto.
Sorridi ti dicono, si educata ti dicono, ma la vita lo ha fatto con te?! Chi ha sofferto dovrebbe sapere quanto si sta male e provare più empatia, si dice... Bhe sì dice e basta. Io non provo proprio un cazzo se hai sofferto e te lo meriti. Anzi ci godo cazzo, e spero ti possa capitare di peggio e cazzo non sono incoerente perché se io faccio del male me lo aspetto il male, ma spero che tutto quello avuto nella vita sia abbonato.
Prendi una pillola poi un altra, Xanax, psicofarmaci, PSICOSI, la gente mi guarda come fossi normale in questi momenti.
Però se cammino felice per strada con il mio vestito preferito "oddio ma quanti tattoo, e piercing, scolapasta, fai schifo, fai paura, sei strana". Sono strana perché sono me stessa ma se penso di voler uccidere e torturare qualcuno o mi faccio del male tutto apposto vero?! Bhe è questa la società in cui vivo. Quindi potete benissimo andarvene tutti a fare in culo. Morirò sola. E questo mi fa tristezza ma morirò gridando così forte da assordarvi tutti.
Tutte le mie grida tra la violenza dentro e fuori non v'è le dimenticherete, vi porterò tutti con me e altri ancora.
Qual'è la maschera? Sicuro di volermi ancora bene? Sicuro di amarmi ancora e di voler stare con una persona che vorrebbe torturare un altro essere umano per il gusto della sofferenza? Dimmi lo vuoi? Non prendiamoci in giro. I mostri amano i mostri. Quindi anche voi siete mostri come me eh? Solo che giocate a recitare la vostra parte meglio di me. Io poi lo sogno e basta voi lo fate. Io lo immagino mentre voi agite ed è questo a rendermi migliore di voi luridi vermi sfigati e esibizioniste troiette disperate... Io ci vedo così. Come siete. Cioè tutti degli opportunisti. Tutti addormentati. Tutti pieni di ego. E io... Senza ogni maschera sarei pura. Sarei pura come quella bambina che avete torturato. Togliendole ogni infanzia ogni gioia ogni speranza. Purezza che avete sporcato macchiato a vita. Ora cazzi vostri.
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Something You've Forgotten (Part3)
Tag List: @xx-thedarklord-xx @rmh8402 @drarryismymuse @dewitty1 @lumos394 @markedplaces @pressedflowersandvinyl @whatisthisthingcalledlife @malec4everr @maqicool @just-a-flicker-of-hope
[Two uploads today but only because I needed in my heart of hearts to get this fluff out. Enjoy! Hopefully!]
“A picnic, Potter?” Draco asked in disbelief, shaking his head slowly. He watched Potter’s face fall before clearing his throat and mumbling, “Harry,” to correct himself. He then proceeded to watch Potter inflate once again, practically bouncing over toward him. He tried not to let it amuse him how quickly Potter’s mood could shift with such a simple thing.
“I know we can’t leave the hospital or anything, but I brought your favourite food. And it’s in a wicker basket, so it counts, right?” Potter chuckled, laying the basket on Draco’s legs as he started walking around the bed to grab and move a table closer. Draco lifted one side of the basket, peeking in to see different foods wrapped in white paper, tilting his head as a delicious smell that had been previously trapped inside the basket wafted out. His stomach growled loudly and Potter chuckled again, Draco curling in on himself and pouting as a response.
“What is it?” He finally asked after Potter had managed to maneuver a square white table to rest against his beside table to his right, picking up the basket and placing it on the table. He watched as Potter grinned, though didn’t answer, moving to grab the rolling stool and pushed it toward the table. The rolling sound filled the air, and the stool slid under the table before crashing into the bedside table, causing everything on top to wiggle slightly. Both boys began laughing, Draco shaking his head at the idiotic move. “Really, Pot- Harry. What are you doing?”
“Having lunch with my boyfriend.” Potter replied easily, reaching under the table to slide the stool back out, sitting and beginning to open the basket and pull some wrapped foods out. “Rather, a picnic with him.”
“Potter, you can’t just come waltzing in here with me not having any memory and assume that we’re still together, if we even were at one point.” This caused Potter to freeze immediately, eyes widened and staring at the wall ahead of him. Draco wiggled slightly, uncomfortable with the quick atmospheric change. Potter slowly set what he had in his hands down, rubbing his palms against the thighs of his blue jeans.
“Alright,” Potter began slowly, quietly, before glancing up and eyeing Draco. “I get it. This must be awkward for you.” Draco rolled his eyes, glancing away and hoping the blush he felt wasn’t showing. “I won’t ask you to accept me as your boyfriend. It took long enough the first time for you to accept it.” Draco furrowed his brow, pursing his lips slightly and turning his head farther away from Potter. “But…” A silence fell over them once more, smothering them. Draco cleared his throat, not a fan of long pauses before rolling his eyes and glaring at him.
“Finish your sentence Potter.”
“Only if you call me Harry.” He retorted, narrowing his eyes slightly in a challenge toward Draco. Draco drew in a breath, considering his options. Though, Draco had to admit that he always was a curious one.
“Finish your sentence, Harry,” Draco said quietly, watching as something seemed to click in the boy, his eyes brightening considerably.
“Would you like to go on a lunch date with me, Draco?” This caused a pause in his thought process. Draco blinked a few times, shook his head, and ended up glancing between the food on the table and Potter.
“What- you mean right now?”
“Yes.” His answer was confident and firm, and Draco could tell he was being watched closely. Draco squirmed again, glancing away and trying to will the butterflies in his stomach to stop their nonsense.
“Why?” Draco asked quietly, insecurities bubbling up in his throat as he tried to quash those feelings down as well. He did not want to show any signs of weakness in front of this boy.
“Because I love you.” Draco jumped, glancing quickly toward Potter, startled.
“What- Wha-”
“Just say yes, Draco. I have all the food here already.” Potter grinned, reaching forward and unwrapping a weird greasy food that look like way too much cheese stuffed into a tortilla. “Bribing is okay, right?” Draco narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze shifting between the food and Potter’s face.
“This, right here, is my favourite?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Potter just chuckled in response, nodding shortly. Draco sighed, shaking his head and reaching out to grab it.
“Fine, Harry. I accept your date proposal.” He watched out of the corner of his eye as Potter sagged in relief, grinning madly and reaching in to get the rest of the food. Draco eyed his own in his hand, sneering at the greasy thing, though his mind wasn’t really on it as the words ‘Because I love you’ played in his head over and over.
“Oh, just take a bite of it, Draco.” Potter insisted, unwrapping his own and taking a large bite. Draco sighed, shaking his head before taking a normal sized bite.
Draco barely managed to hold back a groan. Somehow the flavours of the cheese, tortilla, and whatever else that was stuffed inside mixed together to create heaven. Draco glanced down at the food in his hand as if it was the answer to everything, widening his eyes and glancing at Potter before swallowing and talking a bit too loudly, “How have I never had this before now?”
“You have,” Potter insisted, with a large grin on his face as he watched it, “Though watching you try that for the first time again really is something special.” He chuckled when Draco attacked his food again, taking a small bite and eating in silence. Draco knew he was being watched but for some reason he didn’t mind it. It wasn’t a predatory stare like he was used to, rather than just a comforting one. The rain he didn’t know was pouring outside pounding against the window and it added a nice ambiance to the room.
“I took you to the Grilled Skeever for our second date,” Potter mumbled, and Draco furrowed his brow and sent Potter a confused look, causing the boy to chuckle. “Sorry, the Grilled Skeever is where I bought these from. They’re a house special.” Draco nodded, suddenly understanding why he had never heard of this concoction before. “Anyway, it’s just down the road from Grimmauld Place, and right across the street is a cute little ice cream shop, pink and green slathered everywhere. It was raining that day too, and we only had one umbrella to share. After we finished eating our meal we grabbed some ice cream, you got the mint chocolate chip and I took a regular chocolate and you chastised me for being so plain. I told you maybe I wanted something to be plain in my life, something simple, for once.” Draco finished his food, glancing over hesitantly toward Potter as he seemed lost in his memory. “You said then we’d never work out, because you’re the farthest from simple there is.” Potter- no, Harry- chuckled, shaking his head slightly, causing curls of hair to fall around his face. He couldn’t be just Potter while opening up like that, revealing himself to Draco. He was Harry, a boy who was in love with someone who had forgotten him. It was plain as day to Draco now, written all over him.
Draco glanced away, images flashing in his head, and he furrowed his brow. “Your ice cream began to melt down your fingers because you were talking too much.” Draco mumbled, staring at his hands but not really seeing them. Flashes of a gloomy muggle street quickly passed his mind, a faceless boy and loud laughter filling his head. “You teased me about worrying about it and I said I didn’t want it to get on my clothes.” Draco smirked, shaking his head as he remembered the expensive black coat he had worn to the date. He had wanted to impress Harry, and for some reason thought dressing up was the way to do it. “I told you to clean it up and you said no, so I leaned over and licked the chocolate off of your hand.” Draco began to flush, trying to force the smile that wanted to crack to stay off of his face. “You choked.”
“I was just surprised,” Harry said quietly, teasingly, and Draco finally lifted his head and eyed the boy with a new light. He was blushing slightly too, the colour mixing well with his skin tone, but laughing lightly and shaking his head. “You remember?” He asked even quieter, reaching forward and placing a hand on Draco’s.
“I- only what I said. That’s all I remember. It’s coming in flashes and sounds, and I can’t remember your face very well. But I assume it’s you, considering,” Draco murmured, shrugging and glancing at where Harry had laid his hands on Draco’s. “This is-” Draco hesitated, furrowing his brow and taking a deep breath. “This is real then? You and me? We actually happened?” A quiet surrounded them as Draco worried about the answer, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth to bite at it lightly. He finally gathered the nerve to glance up toward Harry, meeting his eyes. The boy just nodded lightly, a small smile widening ever so slightly.
“Yeah. You were skeptic at first before too. I have to admit though, I was too. It took us months of being friends, Hermione yelling at me in private about how oblivious I was, to ask you on a date. Our first one was,” Harry hesitated, glancing down toward the sheets on the bed and moving his free hand to pinch at them, but a wide grin spread across his face that he couldn’t stop, “It was a picnic. We had finger foods that Mrs. Weasley made for us, and afterward we went for a leisurely flight that ended up being oddly competitive.” Harry laughed, and Draco couldn’t help a small chuckle and a shake of his head. “Something Healer Tallon said stuck in my head, that familiar things might help bring memories back. I figured if I went along and repeated our dates, maybe you’d remember them over time.” Harry glanced up and smirked, winking toward Draco, and he in turn felt his heart skip a beat. That couldn’t be healthy. “So, I figured a picnic. Even though we’re not outside and we don’t have brooms to fly around on, I decided that this wicker basket we had used before would work, maybe? And I didn’t have time to ask Mrs. Weasley to make us some food. So, I picked up your favourite from the Grilled Skeever, since that was our second date. Oh!” Harry jumped up, taking his hand from Draco’s (he tried not to feel disappointed about that) and reaching into the basket once more. “I actually brought some mint chocolate chip ice cream for you!”
Draco watched him pull out a small bowl with a lid, opening a plastic wrapper containing the tiniest spoon he had ever seen. Taking the lid off, he jammed the spoon into the ice cream and held it out for Draco to take as if this was some great achievement. Draco couldn’t help a slight chuckle, shaking his head and taking it. Harry reached in, taking his own chocolate out, and they began eating in their dessert in silence with only the sounds of rain pelting the nearby window to occupy them. Harry was the first one to break the silence.
“So does this mean I’m older than you?” Draco blinked, furrowing his brow and finally glancing over toward him.
“What in the name of Merlin are you talking about?” He let his hands fall, his ice cream mostly eaten by now, to rest the bowl in his lap as he stared confounded toward the excited puppy of a boy.
“If you have forgotten five years of your life, technically your brain thinks you’re eighteen!” Harry said, leaning forward toward him. “And I’m twenty three. So technically I’m older than you right now!” Draco shook his head, the thought process of the boy giving him a headache.
“I don’t think it works like that Harry.” The boy smiled even bigger, his eyes widening a fraction before glancing away and flushing.
“I- uh- I mean-” He cleared his throat, sitting back in his chair and grinning stupidly toward the floor as he played with his ice cream with his own tiny spoon. “That was the first time you didn’t have to try to call me Harry.” Draco widened his eyes, glancing away and flushing himself. Suddenly a loud laugh fills the room and he glances back, feeling hopeless trying to follow Harry’s thought process. “I feel like we just started dating again. I keep blushing at every little thing and-” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing up and meeting Draco’s eyes. The colour staining his cheeks sent Draco’s heart fluttering, and he had to glance away to hide a small smile.
“Well, technically we did just start dating,” Draco mumbled in response, before quickly adding, “Rather, just started dating because we just had a date, not because we’re in a relationship.” Draco flushed lightly, and the words caused Harry to chuckle.
“Right,” Harry agreed, and Draco felt his gaze watching him. He really couldn’t believe he was being so open with Harry. Before the boy arrived he hadn’t wanted to see him at all, yet somehow his entire world flipped on his head every second he spent with Harry. It sort of made sense in his head, slightly, that if he really had been spending years with him that his brain would recognize him and would relax in his presence. Or maybe Harry knew how to act around Draco now that he had been around him for so long. Whatever it was, it caused Draco to blush more and he felt like his face was radiating heat by now.
“I don’t get why we started out in the first place. How you could forgive me-”
“We’ve talked about it before,” Harry replied quickly, shaking his head and scooting closer to Draco, resting his hand atop of Draco’s clasped ones. “It was an emotional time that I don’t care to repeat. When your memories come back, then you’ll know. Just know for now that everything is settled. I’ve forgiven you, and so has everyone else. You’ve already proved yourself.” Draco shook his head slightly, taking a deep breath. “Growing isn’t just living with your mistakes, but knowing that while you can’t change the past, you can always change your future.” Draco glanced up quickly to Harry, shocked.
“No matter how tarnished the soil, you can always plant seeds that will grow into a magnificent flower bed to rest your head on.” Draco mumbled, finishing the quote he had remembered from before he had fallen asleep, watching Harry’s face light up. Slowly, Harry took Draco’s left hand and turned it over, revealing the flowers on his forearm.
“You planted the seeds in the tarnished soil,” Harry mumbled, using his free hand to lightly trace Draco’s tattoo, “And created a flower bed. Though,” Harry grinned, glancing up and meeting Draco’s gaze before winking, “I tend to rest my head on this flower bed more than you do. You’re a comfy pillow, Draco Malfoy.”
#writing:something youve forgotten#writing#fanfic#fanfiction#harry potter#draco malfoy#drarry#hp#hp universe#finally some fluff
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“R.N.W.M.P. Raid Homes of Calgary Labor Leaders,” Edmonton Bulletin. July 2, 1919. Page 01.
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CALGARY, July 1. - Simultaneously with similar action in the larger cities of Western Canada, the North West Mounted Police, acting on instructions received from Winnipeg, raided the homes of Alderman Broatch, President Hooley of the Trades and Labor Council, R. H. Parkyn, J. Sangster, and R. J. Tallon, prominent labour leaders, in the early hours this morning, and took away documents and books. In Mr. Parkyn’s home was seized correspondence with the Bishop of Birmingham, who was expected to pay a visit here. Several books along socialistic lines were also taken from the several homes raided. At Mr. Parkyn’s home, the police were offered a copy of the bible, as Mr. Parkyn said the sermon on the mount contained some things that might be interpreted as against the order-in-council. The police, however, left the labor man in possession of his bible.
#calgary#free speech#suppression of dissidents#canadian democracy#union leaders#arrest of elected officials#police repression#anti-communism#anti-socialism#social democracy#state repression#political prisoners#state censorship#union men#banned literature#censored literature#orders in council#royal canadian mounted police#police raids#trades and labor concil
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Seme Border Closed to Curb Rice Smuggling.~ President Buhari.
Seme Border Closed to Curb Rice Smuggling.~ President Buhari.
Smugglers continued to suffer huge losses Wednesday as Presidential Muhammadu Buhari in Yokohama, Japan confirmed the closure of Nigeria’s border with Republic of Benin, saying the measure was taken to stem the tide of smuggling of rice into the country.
The border had been shut last week .
President Buhari at a meeting with President of Benin Republic, Mr. Patrice Tallon, on the sidelines of…
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Prequel thing to something maybe
A/N: I began to write this as a Frost x reader but its really short and I like it so if you like it tell me and I’ll write another part.
“1,2,3,4”
“Harley shut up!” Harley sat on the floor of the caged cell counting the tally marks she dug into the floor. Each mark represented another day in hell. The cage we were both locked in was in the middle of the large, grey room. There was two beds on opposite sides of the cell and the blonde haired girl was leaning against hers.
On the other side of the cell was Y/n. She was laying on her back staring at the ceiling and picking at her tallon shaped nails. A long chain connected her ankle to the wall next to her. Waller decided to give her that after the ‘incident’ where Y/n got a little to angry and took a gash out of Harley’s arm before she could be stopped.
“Why are you so mean to me Kit? Don’t you want Mr. J and Frosty to come for us?” Y/n rolled her eyes at the nick name Harley had given her. The blonde stretched her limbs while standing up and walking over to her torn clothes hanging from the top of the cage and climbing up.
Y/n took a minute to think about the answer to her questions. She turned her head to finally look Harley in the eyes and answered, “Of course I do, but it's been months and I’ve lost hope on them coming. We’re not in a fairy tale, we need to save ourselves.”
Just as Y/n finished a loud siren went off in the asylum and a dozen armed guards came running into the room screaming and yelling at the girls. Harley dropped down from her bars and rushed to Y/n, who was now standing, watching the armed men.
“What is going on?!” Y/n yelled, shielding Harley behind her. After all the men were in the room they all made way for the one and only, Amanda Waller.
“Girls, how are you all today?” she asks.
“We’re peachy keen Ms. Waller, How are you?” I smirk, dripping with fakeness and sarcasm.
“I’m great dear, and I’m so excited to tell you we have another mission for you both.” She returns my fakeness and internally rejoices as my smirk drops and Harley grabs my arm.
#joker x reader#joker imagine#leto joker imagine#leto!joker x reader#frost x reader#jonnny frost x reader#jonny frost imagine#joker x harley#harley x joker#harley x reader#harley imagine
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