《Collaboration || Dan Smith》Thirty.
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𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙄 𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙙
- 𝗧𝗼𝗺 𝗢𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗹
When we arrive back at my place Maisie opted to take the sofa for the night. Of course that makes me feel guilty...I said that she can sleep in my bed. It's not like I can get to sleep in it anyway. Since she's been gone I've been having problems trying to drift off and shit - our breakup was really fucking hard on me.
Maisie makes me feel different. She makes me feel like a good man. Something that I always try to aspire to be.
Of course Maisie being the sweet and kind person she is refused - I more or less told her that it's okay. I also kind of reminded her that she is pregnant...it's not like she forgot or anything. She doesn't deserve to sleep on the hard new sofa anyway.
So she lays besides me awkwardly in bed...in her long green dress. "Isn't that irritating your skin?" I whisper under my breath. "What the fuck are you talking about now?" Maisie sniffs as I feel her looking at me while we lay next to each other on the bed. It's no shit that I've been trying to make conversation with her. Just to cheer her up
"Your dress...it's making hives on my skin." I raise up my arm as I tilt my head looking at her. "Fucking hell Dan. You could've told me earlier" my skin is swollen and red and really fucking itchy. "I didn't want to say anything - you look really pretty in that dress." With that Maisie sits up. It takes her a few seconds but then she stands up.
"Can you...help me take it off." Fuck yes.
I mean..."of course!" I jump onto my feet and walk around the bed as I drawer the curtains first. It's London and perverts will try to look in. I then gather her soft long brown hair and place it around the side of her shoulder. "There's a zip..." her voice trails off as I smile.
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Never would I of ever thought that I'd be unzipping my child's mother's dress after we won nearly every Brit Award. My mum is going to be fucking thrilled. I must admit that I'm literally over the moon too, hopefully I won't do or say anything which will fuck this 'encounter' up. I want Maisie to know that I still really fucking love her and that I did...mess up.
I zip the dress until it stops at the bottom of her waist. "You have to...lift it up and over..." fuck yes. Of course I have to do that.
Gracefully Maisie raise her arms up in the air while I slowly slide the dress upwards. I be gentle around her stomach area, even when the dress does need to be tugged up slightly. But the dress slips off, Maisie helps pulling all of the green lace from over her head.
And she's there in nothing but white lace undergarments. The top of which is little on the short side because of her forming bump.
Maisie turns around and then hugs me. I don't know what to say to console her...I've never lost a sibling before or anything like that - let alone a twin. I just hug her tightly back. What she needs isn't me being a weirdo over how amazing she looks...she needs someone to talk to.
"I'm tired." She whispers pulling back before drying her red raw eyes. I can tell that they are stinging just by her pained facial reactions. Maisie doesn't deserve any of this...literally none of it. "Yeah, you should get some sleep." I must admit even though she is actually fucking glowing - she doesn't look like what she looked like yesterday.
Maisie then lies down on the bed as I decide to leave her be for the night. "Dan...I want you to stay." Well this is going to be a bit awkward. I'm literally going to be sleeping next to my fucking ex...
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"I like the sofa" I want the sofa to fucking burn for all of eternity. I didn't choose the sofa, my dad did. He said it would look great for a 'bachelor pad'. I'm not sure whether he off his rockers yet. "Please..." Maisie whispers batting her eyelids.
Of course I can't help but fucking smile.
"This time I get the right side..." I smile like the Cheshire Cat. "The right side is mine. I sleep better." I nod my head...even though for these past couple of months I've been so lonely that I make pillows on the right side of the bed seem like someone is laying next to me. I hate being by myself.
I then lay down in bed besides her again. She still sleeps on top of the covers while I'm in them. "You're gonna get a cold or something?" I whisper admiring her bump. "I'm boiling." She whispers with her eyes sealed shut. I nervously laugh at her blunt reply.
"So like does it hurt...or is it heavy? This is legitimately a serious question." Maisie opens one of her eyes slightly, she still looks pissed off. I guess that should be my cue to shut up...but me being me can't be quiet. "It looks like it's heavy because you're always holding it. Like..." I'm confused. No one teaches you shit about that stuff.
Maisie, instead of arguing, weakly laughs through her tears of sorrow. "Oh my god Dan...shut up..." she laughs shaking her head. I don't get what was so funny about my question?
"Give me your hand..." she whispers as I do as I am told. I'm only doing this because I want her to cheer up. Nothing more and nothing less. "Just concentrate okay...no talking or weird comments." Before I can query what she's about to do she rests my palm on her bare stomach. This is fucking weird but okay.
"Am I meant to be feeling anything?" I whisper as she hisses at me to be quiet. I do as I am told because she looks like a fucking mad woman. I haven't got a death wish surprisingly.
In total boredom I go to yawn with my other hand before I feel something. It's only light. But I felt it...move. "Oh...my god." I whisper in shock as Maisie smiles nodding her head. "Father like daughter..." she smiles as I take my hand off of her stomach. "D-daughter?" I stutter - once again - in complete shock. "It's stupid but it's like she replies to bee...so that's what I've been calling her Bee." As soon as Maze said the first 'bee'...she moves some more. "Just a coincidence the midwife said..." I mean...that's...kind of sweet. Maisie smiles nodding her head...I guess to the first question that she didn't answe, "both of you are annoying as hell. And like to move around in your sleep."
I did not need to know that. Now I know that information a part of me wants her. Her. Oh my god.
I don't say anything else. Instead reach out towards my wooden bedside table and turn the lamp off for the night. This was not how I was expecting to go to bed tonight...
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Adagio of the Enlightened
The Elders will tell you the stories and lore. Of our ancestors, their deeds, and of the foes of yore. They will praise to you the chariot, and how it flew to the stars. How it stole the sun's light and slew the night’s roar.The Shamans will tell you the tales of their wisdom. Their wars on schism, and the unlettered world of ours before. Perhaps they will sing you the songs of what our clans' ancient customs tore. Poems of how our ancestors took what the discs had offered them, the manna and the mundane, and made it more.The kings will tell you of the follies, the sins, and the anecdotes of all our ancestors' wrongs. They will curse to you their names, the Ender of Fate and the Ruined Song. How they had dug up the hearts of the discs, euchred its relics, and blasphemed its prophecies, with oracles withdrawn.But they will only tell you the legends, recount the myths, and sing the allegories washed ashore.The Elders, the Shamans, and the kings can only retell what the storytellers of their own time had voiced. What they have read in books or heard in the minstrels' songs they adore.They don't know what really happened. They were never there.They can't tell you how our ancestors slew the angels from the sky, and sent them back to where they belonged. How they poisoned our minds, and made our people slothful and feeble, with the reforms they had undergone.But I can.I can tell you how the Ender of Fate severed destiny's strings, weakened them, and weaved them to our feeble flesh and souls.I can tell you how the Ruined song razed the heavens with her blood-stained melody, and reshaped our hell into utopia, with the deaths she deplored.Because I was there. I can tell you the truth, with my virtue strong. ----> Disclaimer: This will be a slow-burn, character-driven, non-harem, slice-of-life web novel with cultivation and kingdom-building elements. Also known as "The Hidden Sage and the Star Chariot" on "Reddit HFY". Schedule: First 7 days, 3 chapters daily. Then 1 daily chapter until November. Patreon - (Unlock up to chapter 67) [participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge]
8 184Human Altered
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8 117Diary Of A Lost Soldier In Another World
Onaga Katsuro, a seventeen-year-old soldier in the JSDF finds himself fighting in the second Russo-Japanese war in the year 2045. Due to manpower shortages, the Japanese government starts using child soldiers, even using girls as young as fourteen. Onaga Katsuro and his platoon of child soldiers are taken by surprise and he thinks he dies from a grenade but he finds himself in a dark world with one of the eight gods of creation. The god of Darkness, Sin, Madness, and War has need of a champion. Katsuro shall be his champion in the new world. This a story of the greatest triumphs and deepest despairs, of gentle love and corrosive cruelty. Katsuro knows not what the god wants or what he is meant to do in the new world. But he knows this, the prize offered by that god is impossible to resist. He will obtain that prize no matter how many bodies he needs to put into the ground. After all... He has nothing left to lose.
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8 96Tale of the Modern Magus
You must be thinking how wonderful it would be to awaken Magic at some point in your life. You must believe it would be a blessing. You would be able to become famous and rich with the flick of your finger. It is no blessing, it is not wonderful. If you awaken magic you will probably spend most of your life trapped within a secret facility, getting your blood drained and bone marrow taken. Until you are too sick to be able to produce decent blood. Then you’ll be dissected and used for materials. The other option is to run. Run and keep running for the rest of your life, staying one step ahead from those trying to catch you. Forever wishing for a normal life. Roland’s tale isn’t a happy one. Sure there are good moments, good days, and sometimes even good months, but overall it is a terrible tale to tell. This tale is one about a man on the run. Yet it is also one about a man trying to overcome all odds, trying to find security, attempting to latch onto the sliver of hope visible before his very eyes. This is a tale with countless setbacks. People will die, cities fall, ideologies rise. Follow Roland on what would, at first, appear to be a journey to greatness.
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