Lovino's fairly certain that Gilbert would leave if he knew he was falling for him.
It wasn't supposed to happen like that. He was the desirable one, the one everyone wanted. But he was still stuck at fourteen and no matter how long Gilbert had been fucking hi(more)m he would still ruffle his hair when he came to visit and joke that he was still so small.
Gilbert was frankly obnoxious. But he smelled like war, like gunpowder and blood, and something about it was so intoxicating. War and blood would be the ticket to his freedom, his independence. The only things that would finally make him grow again. The older man could give him all of that.
Maybe Lovino had just fallen in love with war.
And if Gilbert knew that he’d probably fuck him harder and whisper how they could set the world on fire. (less)
It was ageless, timeless, a continuing existence long before the inception of humankind, one who'd remain long after its downfall.
(more) "You'll understand when you're older."
Honestly? This phrase followed it around to a ridiculous degree. All it wanted was some questions answers, but no! These creatures are presumptuous enough to decide to be the gatekeeper of its knowledge and it was maddening. Choosing a child's form had been a calculated choice; surely the humans would answer questions posed by their young, one not expected to have complete awareness of the workings of their world. But no. Time after time it was denied knowledge with a patronizing smile, as though the workings of human society was an innate part of biology. Which it's not, it know because it's studied it. Those damn terradwellers were just so arrogant, so self-centered, absolutely bloated with the assumption of an enlightened state. To assume to know its life and needs, how grating!
if only you knew,
what my mind goes through,
at the sight of the moon,
when I have thoughts of you.
we dance hand in hand,
around the glowing light;
(more) singing and laughing,
and killing our lungs,
with the smoke of jane,
and traces of camel.
the feel of you.
He is a keeper of secrets throughout the centuries, from one life to the next. Rare is the life where he bears his burden visibly, unfolding his wings, smiling with sharp teeth, or showing his feathers. Even when he meets the One, he can'(more)t help but hide himself under some misguided fear of rejection.
He can't help it; for all of his life in most of his lives, he's been rejected even by those who know not of his many secrets.
The One will always find out, if he doesn't know already, and love him regardless of his self-perceived deformities and curses. And sometimes, in a few lives, maybe once a century, he learns from his eternal soulmate and gains the confidence to shed his shields.
(Those, thinks the One, are the best lives of all.)(less)
If you knew, you'd gasp. That feeling you get when your stomach is about implode and no amount of hyperventilating can make you forget the pain. But you don't. Perhaps we should keep it that way. Painful realities aren't for everybody - not everyone can handle it.
There'(more)s life as you see it and life as it really is. Everyone's got their lens, but some are fogging up - cloudy, murky visions of what we want to see - life without death, suffering, or killing.
Prying propaganda hyponotizes your mother, sister, brother, and friend with a shroud of irreality.
Removes them from viscerality of everyday existence.
They cease to act human.
They can't feel it.
You wake up.
You realize your humanity bubbles up through you if you let it.
You can kill a man with your bear hands, but you don't want to.
You can snake your way into or out of any situation.
You feel the pain of being human though.
You feel the rape, murder, cycles, fucking cycles. Fucking blindness. Cycles. Over and over and OVER again. Why can't you idiots stop!?
Must I smash the answer over your face? Must I play doctor to every lost soul I meet? The answer is so clear, and yet our tainted souls don't want to see it.
If you knew Truth, you'd probably vomit. But you can't save everybody brotherman; hell, you probably can't save anybody - excepting yourself of course.
The art of do-nothing, know-nothing, be-nothing, am-nothing, chill around the campfire knowing none of it, telling none of it.
But looking up at your brotherman thinking "if you knew" and seeing the campfire reflected in his beautifully empty eyes, and not having to say anything. Then you might know.(less)
What would you do if you knew all the world's secrets? The hidden pharaoh tombs that were long forgotten, the ancient jewels buried underneath thousand years of untouched land? The unsolved mysteries of unexplained disappearances, the unexplored deep ocean wonders? All that knowledge, right in the palm of your(more) hands.
That's right. I hand you now a book. Don't be fooled by the size, the slight thickness of the pages. Here is where I have compiled whatever knowledge that no one has known, and now this knowledge would all be yours. Does that not fill you with anticipation and glee, you knowing what no one in the entire world doesn't?
But be warned, for you will lose into the insanity of the knowledge. You will lose the sense of yourself. Yes, you will cling onto that idea of yourself, but YOU will fall to the spell. The spell of the all-acquired knowledge. That's a price to pay for your unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Still, the thought of knowing everything tempts you, no? The allure of indulging in sacrosanct secrets. Goodness, look at you. Already comparing yourself to a God! Yes, friend, all this knowledge makes you akin to a God. An insane, quixotic and unpredictable God.
All you have to do is open the book and start reading.(less)
She laughed in all the right places and smiled freely. Her drink was in her hand and she sampled an appetizer with the other. Her friends remembered that party with fondness for a long time after. Remembered how fun Brenda was that night and wasn't she always just the(more) life of the party?
Brenda did have fun that night. She gossiped with her friends and flirted with the people she didn't know. That was her way of going through life - when things get rough throw a party. Bottle up the hurt and hide it deep inside because life is too short to let things get to you.
About an hour into the party, when everyone was nicely buzzed, the host brought out Rock Band. Brenda volunteered immediately for lead vocal. She didn't have the best voice, but she made up for it with humor and enthusiasm. She got through three songs before handing the mike off.
She tried not to think of what would happen after the party. The doctor had given her a pill early that morning. She would have to take another one tonight. Then there would be several hours of cramps. She had planned on just taking a painkiller and trying to sleep through it.
She took another sip of her wine, thinking briefly that she shouldn't be drinking, but realizing instantly that it didn't matter anyway. Tomorrow she would wake up and be free again.
Brenda danced happily into the night. Some people hate getting the spins but Brenda always loved the feeling. It made the whole world feel like a roller coaster. She embraced it and did a twirl before falling into the sofa.
Jane offered to let her stay over for the night, but Brenda had to go and take her freedom back.(less)
Four times Arthur checked his email, and four times he found it so cluttered with junk that anything personal was choked out, like a lone flower competing against a cluster of weeds. When he finally found the energy to skim, dull eyes blinking against a lackluster light cast onto sallow(more) skin, he found taunts that were not there. The absence of Alfred's name. The reminder that he'd stopped paying his phone bill because no one called.
"If only you knew," Arthur muttered. "If only you knew I needed you."
Outside the birds made no sound. The rain sloshing against the windows drizzled out halfheartedly, til the bars across the pane became more like tearstains sinking away. Umbrellas pulled closed one by one but the sun did not shine. His cup of tea slowly faded into lukewarm oblivion in his kitchen, a reminder that movement was difficult and that pulling himself from the gaze of his computer screen not worth the effort.
Another wave crashed against the skiff as it teetered precariously on the edge of the reef. The green water cascaded over the bow as Jose gave the yamaha outboard another crank. It spit and sputtered, refusing to turn to over. The rocky outcroppings of the shoreline ominously gaped like(more) a toothy menace. If he were to get caught against those, the surge in the sea would surely send him overboard into the shark infested waters of the bay.
The squall appeared suddenly on the horizon, and despite his best efforts, Jose was unable to get the skiff back to port in time. Once the motor had given out on him the situation had become perilous. It had been a great day on the water up until that point, fourteen Cabrilla, a couple of Pargo and a nice tuna littered the floor of the skiff. The market would pay top dollar for a catch like this if Jose could somehow free himself from the churning water.
Reaching under the gunnel his hand desperately pawed for the oar, by now the smaller Cabrilla had begun to float in the hull of the skiff. Their needle like spines grazing the top of his bare feet as the seawater swished and swirled. With a yank he was able to free the oaken paddle, and with haste began to dig in long hard strokes in an attempt to free the skiff from the precarious pinnacle where it now sat.
Glancing out towards the windswept ocean Jose saw another set of white capping rollers rising from the edge of the bay. Unless he were able to get the bow turned towards them he would surely capsize, his fate matching those of the fish that he'd caught earlier in the day. Digging in he braced for impact. (less)
"If you knew what I'd done..." The eagle eyed man had been murmuring- something I wasn't meant to hear? I leaned close
over the desk, and suddenly his gaze was seared into mine, calculating, cold; he was trying to judge if I heard- but who cared if I had.(more) I knew such a man as was my 'savior' was a snake. He reeked of it, his fingers twitching like meandering spiders, his jacket and vest carefully set on his frame more careful then he sent us 'kids' about his buisness. "...Sir?"
A pause, a huff of breathe; he was agitated.
"...Yes, yes-" he shoved a paper for me, glancing else where.
"Off now, Kelvar. A map for you- all the valuables."
The area on the scribbled out map seemed... odd; a place he hadn't sent us before? But, peering at the narrowed face, and vicious I shrugged it off- I'd known, I should have questioned. Should have known he had no more use for me.(less)