im sitting in art class and i can see mary bein g affec tionate toward s othe r peope and it remi ds me of when she u sed to te ll me she love d me and yhat she cared about me a nad hel d my hand i can t ttake i t eve ryone is gonna leav e me im gon a die alon e
I packed you a lunch, a knuckle sandwich; [closed]
Was he just witnessing his brother get into a fight before his eyes? He wasn’t even here for one day and he has already stumbled upon his brother wreaking havoc. Yukio briefly wondered how long his older brother has been trapped here, but then brushed aside the thought because he has to go deal with his loose cannon of a brother. His blood has been boiling for a while… pent up aggression towards his new circumstances. Usually he can keep it bottled, but somehow the only person that makes him explode is his twin brother.
Strolling across the sidewalk with new determination the four eyed teenager placed all his anger and hateful emotions against his brother’s cheek. The impact should have knocked him off his feet. “WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT GETTING INTO POINTLESS FIGHTS?” The opposing citizen that probably started the scuffle fled into the night. Who could blame him?
i love ultron so much it physically hurts; he is actually my main motivation for everything in life. like, it might seem stupid as fuck, but pretty much everything i do, everything i accomplish, it’s all in the hope that if ultron existed, he’d maybe consider.. u kno.. not killing me?
Remus never knew how he ended up in places like these. Well, no, he did know how he ended up in places like these, and their names started with J, S, and P, but he liked to think he had the presence of mind to not always go along when they wanted a lad’s night out. Unfortunately for everyone involved in this bloody stupid war, things had been going rather badly for their lot in the last few weeks, and thus their “lad’s night” had turned them squirreled away in a muggle pub in East London, trying very hard to drink their weight in bad lager.
The place was heaving, given it was a Saturday night, and Remus had lost sight of James and Sirius quite some time ago. Peter was slumped in a booth on the other side of the room (he thought), either having a kip or chatting to one of the locals. Peter had that way about him, a kind of seamless sense of conversation that stayed true to his relatively humble beginnings: a childhood of mismatched jumpers, summer hols in Belfast, his father was an accountant for Gringotts, Remus thought. Thoroughly ordinary and thus complementary to Remus’ own upbringing. It was really no wonder that James and Sirius had run off. Peter had probably started talking about gardening.
Through the warm haze of smoke and conversation Remus couldn’t see very far into the crowd. The booth he’d claimed was cramped and a little sticky, the pint glass he held in one hand sweating into his palm. A kind of feverish energy had accompanied the Order when they’d left their meeting earlier that evening, like all anyone wanted to do was get well and truly pissed. They’d started the night in a group. He’d no clue where everyone else was now. Most of the Order tended to stick to Wizarding pubs – they’d probably gone down to the Dragon’s Belly, which was slightly rougher but had cheap shots of firewhiskey. Come to think of it, that was probably where Padfoot had ended up. And where went Padfoot, there went Prongs. He could see them now: arms around each other’s shoulders, James sniggering into the curve of Sirius’ neck as he loudly ordered them another round, so tightly curled into one another it was often difficult to tell them apart. Remus knew, of course. But then again, he was kind of fucked that way.
Thinking about Sirius always made him feel restless. Remus drained his glass and, gathering his tweed jacket around him, slipped out of the booth and started through the crowd. “Excuse me,” he said politely, “thank you,” and soon made it to the bar.
“Stout, please,” Remus called to the bartender, who made him repeat himself twice before he gave Remus a thumbs up and disappeared to pull him a drink. Remus didn’t not like pubs but he wasn’t particularly fond of them either. He did have to admit that the anonymity was comforting. He’d gotten rather sick lately of having to talk to yet another manager as to why he’d be unable to continue employment, or another one of the members of the Order who wanted to know why he looked so wan, Are you eating properly, Remus? James had made a casual comment last night about giving him money. Remus felt his cheeks heat up in humiliation at there mere memory of it.
“Ta very much.” Remus handed over a crumpled note and picked up his drink. He turned to go back through the crowd but the bodies pressed even closer, making moving anywhere probably impossible. Craning his head to look for Peter – there was no familiar mop of reddish hair to be seen – Remus turned back to the bar and crossed his elbows on the counter. One more drink, then he’d go.
❝ … I don’t like this place, Hundreko… ❞ She had never been lost before, as much as Ailane had never truly left home in the past, save for the first and only time she has been to MIDI City. It had been nothing but luck that Hundreko had been able to find her master ( much thanks to the sensors they had ), and the company in such strange and new place was appreciated, really.
This is not home, nor it’s anything like MIDI City. For a split second, she could only wonder if it had to do with the Queen of Darkness.
❝ Have you seen Peipain? Our belongings are all gone, too… Even my guitar. What kind of lowlife peasant would replace it with… this?! ❞ As concerned for her safety as Ailane was, the fact her beloved guitar had been replaced with a banjo was enough to distract her for at least a bit.