Putting these here just to archive themmm

I caved in and finally started writing these XD idk where else to put them. :/ GONNA BLAME THIS ON PLUM--

Expect more like these. But... Better than this. XD I wrote this entirely on my phone and without planning XD

Most of these will be WHE centered XD


1. Oranges and Life

"How about this one? What do you think? Or this one?"  The tiny women held one orange in each hand, trying to see which one was better with her impaired vision.  It was proving to be difficult.  And so was the man with her.  

He grunted and shrugged. "Does it matter?" 

Sofia was getting a bit frustrated.  She knew he didn't like waking up early on his off days to go to the meager market just to get the good food... But she was too afraid to go herself.  And besides, they had lived together for enough years, yet she still had no idea what he liked to eat.  "Of course it matters.  The better one will last longer... Cosim."

His mind had already moved on to checking something on one of his handguns. "What?"

"Put that away..." She whispered.   Their neighbors had no idea he was a mafia man. She was terrified that if they did she would be without friends again.  She had managed to explain to the whole building that the residents in 14b were just an eccentric man and an unfortunate woman.  And for once she had managed to converse with people. 

He rolled his eyes and shoved it back into his jacket like a teen who was just caught texting.  

"Choose."

"I don't like oranges."

"Have you had an orange?"

"Maybe."

She knew that conversation was over.  With a sigh, she replaced the fruits for someone else to take advantage of later.  This had happened every week with him.  Somewhere Sofia knew it wasn't about food.  

With this life, she was ecstatic.  She had waited so long to finally not have so much to worry over.  She'd waited so long to talk to someone next door about the weather; to talk to anyone else so easily at all. And now she was shopping like a normal person.  Just the thought made her happy.  

Cosim wasn't.  She knew he wanted more in his life.  More excitement, more purpose.  His job at first was great, now he saw it as monotonous.  Not eating healthy food was one thing... But it broke her heart to think that he wasn't happy with her.  

She began to walk again, handing him the bags she already had to one hand as he took her hand with the other.  "Cosim... Do you... Do you love me?" 

The question caught him off guard.  "Of course I do.  Why would you even say that?"  Too late, he saw her sad stare and almost heard the gears moving in her mind.  "Sonya, I'll eat the goddamn oranges if you really--"

Tears were pouring from her eyes already.  She tried to disguise them, but... They were always evident.  And she didn't want him making a scene.  

He pulled them both to a corner so her weeping wouldn't disrupt traffic.  He had no idea what was wrong.  He only knew it might involve fruit.  

Setting down the bags, he quickly wiped her remaining tears away and crouched to be at her eye level.  "What's wrong... Did I say something...?"  When she didn't answer out of her hiccuping, he decided to start shooting in the dark.  Only actually shooting in the dark would be alot easier for him.  

"I meant it when I said I love you. I always do..." 

"No..."  She shook her head vehemently, mumbling her reasons incoherently.  "Not that... That you love me... I... I don't..."  

This wasn't going where he wanted.  

"... I don't kn-know if you-you're h-h-happy... With m-me..."  She threw her arms out futilely.  "w-with all... A-all this..."  

Well that cleared things up.  "Why wouldn't I be happy?"

"You don't like... Where we live... Or... Our neighbors..."  She mumbled into her sleeves.  "You don't like our life..."

He rubbed her back silently for a while, wondering how to phrase what he wanted to say.  "Do you like your life?"  

"D-d-da... I love it here..."  

"Then I love it here too."  

She looked confused. 

"I love it here because I love to see you love things."  

The tears stopped.  "Sure, my job makes me tired, and I don't like to wake up to go to a place where I really don't belong," He put an arm out to the small market.  He wasn't the usual demographic. "But I get home at the end of the day..."  He adjusted her headscarf with a smile.  "And I listen to you talk about what you did with the day.  Where you realized you could go... I just hear about all the new things you say you love."  A smile slowly grew on her face and he kissed it lightly.  "And since I love you, I love them too."

She sniffed and giggled lightly.  "Does that mean you love the market?"  

He reached over and grabbed an orange from the rickety stand and bit right into the rind.  It wasn't very good, but he smiled anyways.  "I love it."  

"Cosim... That's not how you eat those... And now we have to pay for that..."  


((DON'T SHOOT DON'T--))

ASLDFJKSLDFJLKASJFLSDKAJ--MY EXPRESSION OF PURE JOY. YOU CANNOT EVEN FATHOM IT. <3 <3 <3
This is so cute, and just--alsdkffdjlsjfs--/brb cannot articulate self well enough right now

Don't worry, Cosim, my dad did that with a kiwi the other day. :I

Also, why you gotta keep reminding me of Sonya's voice double? "In Ukraine, we never had...some fruits, some vehzhtables..." XD


In return, I offer a poem I wrote for Franze today. XD ...I am not a poet, don't expect much anything. :I

The Vanity
The blossoms of May will eventually scatter
But she was to be a June bride
Oh, you can forget hunger, she says,
just like you can forget many other debilitating things
(It’s all in the technique—
trompe l’esprit!)
For it’s a fool that falls to fatalism;
in the dynasty of wilting flowers
and weeping willows
and her dreams of cheating time
before time could even catch up to her
But she could see it, behind her shoulder,
when she broke the mirror, screaming—
“You’re not prettier than me!”

Notes: 'the blossoms will eventually scatter' = ref to a poem called 'Iroha', about the fleeting nature of beauty; flowers and willows = ref to 'the flower and willow world', the world of beauty

(...Wow, so much Japanese symbolism, I'm sorry. I dislike explaining things like that, but it might be lost, otherwise. :( In my defense, I wasn't particularly planning on sharing this. XD)

Aw, thankyou =v= the next ones won't be so depressing lol XD LMAO I wasnt even thinking about that lady XD

I just imagine she'd have a hard time getting him to eat actual food lol XD

....

....

...

....

/THROWS AWAY ALL POETRY--

That's gorgeous writing What else are you hiding like that-- fjenfnekgjsn so amazingggg <3333333 :'D

Spinach. I want to see that happen. XDDD "But it's good for you...! /sob"

ffffffff--thank youuuu, I just wrote it on a whim, really; I had no idea if it was any good or not, tbh. <XD Just a half-finished one about Piter, hurr.

Fffff yes XD

"LENIN ATE SPINACH--"

"HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?"

"/SOB I DON'T KNOW I DON'T KNOW--"

It would just sound like a conversation at gunpoint XD

Ffuuu Post it. I double dog dare you. :I

This is gorgeous-- Fff, Your writing is so beautiful, and skillful and perfect. (Idk how to describe such a lovely thing) I wish I could write like some of you guys. This is so cute--

I seriously love how cute this is. :>

Thank you so much :') I don't think it's perfect (only Jonathan safran foer is perfect--) but I'm proud of it. Mainly because I started it with no idea how to end it or even know what it was going to be about XD

<33333

2. Morning Routine


BEEP BEEP-- 

BEEP BEEP--

A hand slapped the alarm off.  An off day for Cosim, a work day for Sonya.  Unfortunately, they both seemed to have forgotten that the day before, and they both had stayed up later than they should have.  Not that he was complaining about the reason why.  But the shift in bedtime had messed up her sleep patterns.  Her eight hours would come about 2 hours later.  

Thanks to him she was on thin ice at the pharmacy as it was, although he supposed that was just her irrational worry.  Where else would they find someone half as knowledgeable about medicine?  Still he didn't want her missing what she loved.  

"Sonya."  He lightly nudged her shoulder sleepily.  "Sonya. Get up."  

A small sigh in response, and she rolled away from him.  

It was going to be one of those days.  

Reluctantly, Cosim slid out of bed and over to her side.  He tapped her cheeks, but still just got a small crease in her brow and she shifted over again.  

Time to kick it up a notch.  He sucked in a breath, and, doing what he would never do while she was awake, curled his hands around his mouth and shouted, "SOFIA!" 

"Not now, Cosim... Sleeping... Just did that... Last night..." 

"... dammit."  He had to think of other things.  He pulled away the covers and picked her up with one arm.  She slumped on his shoulder like an exhausted infant, making some indecipherable noises that signaled she was warm again.  

He carried her to the kitchen and held tea, fruit, bread, any food under her nose.  Not even the scarce candy they still had would wake her from her slumber.  He closed the fridge and adjusted her weight in his arm.  "I told you... I don't want... To right now..." 

He Laid her on the cold floor, he pulled her up by her arms, he held her up by her legs and shook her slightly.  

She just snored a little more.  

"Time to throw in the towel."  She still wasn't waking.  Her loss, she wouldn't be at work that day.  It was fine with him really, since he could say he tried.  Tried more than any human should.  And when she stayed home she just wanted to take care of him all day and work on whatever Frankenstein experiments were going on in her tiny lab.  

He tucked her back into bed, exhausted already, one hour after he originally shut off the alarm.  After that, he got back in, satisfied with the outcome regardless.  Gathering her in his arms, he kissed her sleepily.  "You can try again tomorrow."

"Hmmm..."  Was all he got in reply.  

He hadn't had time to even close his eyes for 5 seconds before she began to stir.  Blinking, he saw her smile at him and kiss him back warmly, as if it was the first one that had woken the sleeping beauty.  "Good morning..."  She paused to stretch, "You look tired..." She added with a coy smile.  It wasn't from what she thought it was. "What time is it...?"

He didn't want her upset at missing work, and he didn't really want her to go.  It was a good thing for him she believed every word he said.  "You still have a few hours."

"Well, since I'm already up, I'll make you breakfast.  Anything you want."  

He smiled through closed eyes.  Let the day begin.  

((FFFFUUU I think this one is not so good :I))

I have already established my feelings on this. But I must establish them again, so that the whole world can see.

/LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE FOREVER <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

HERP DERP. More from WHE :I


Cosim was simultaneously doing the most wonderful thing a man could do for the woman he loved and doing the worst thing he could to a woman that worried.  

He had been leaving work early and coming home late.  If Sofia had called the office late at night when he wasn't back, they'd have to say they didn't know where he was.  Some of them knew, and he'd rather them not let her know, too.  

The mobster was a man of principle, if one couldn't tell by looking.  Principle stated, if a woman somehow managed to fall in love with his crooked features, she deserved a diamond.  A diamond and a beautiful white dress.

Problem was, he was having trouble finding both.  He searched from pawn shop to pawn shop (the only places open these days), surveying their meager jewelry.  Perhaps it was his own indecisiveness (that one was too small, another too big, another too dull, another too tarnished) that caused the prolonged search.  Even more principle.  With a dress (was that really his job?) he had no idea what her size was, so he traced a figure in the air with his hands and told the clerks, "sorta like that." Turns out they didn't have any sorta like that left.  They said if he brought her in (obviously they were questioning her existence) they could make one special, to which he, exhausted from hours of searching, could not even articulate that she wasn't supposed to know about it, knocked things over, and left the shop in a nervous fury.  

In the end he had found a ring, realizing that the best way to choose was to blind himself of the appearance and only buy the one with the highest price tag.  It would make a dent in their money pile, but, again.  Principle.  Although he realized that she wouldn't really care about the price.  

If she said yes.  Which was another matter in itself.  He didn't want to have a bad proposal.  First impressions had to be good.  He wanted to go with a traditional Ukrainian proposal... But they were lacking in family members and bread. So what if she refused?  They lived together, what if he ruined a good thing?  

He sucked in an icy breath on his way home, the ring box burning a hole in his pocket all the way.  What would he say?  Did he even look nice?  He caught his reflection in a store window.  It only served to discourage him more and he shuffled his hands through his hair in frustration.  That didn't make it any better.  

He continued his walk, eyes trained nervously on the ground as if there was nothing above or beside him.  He watched his worn boots traverse the stairs up to the apartment, and was about to grab his key, when--

That's it.  He would ring the buzzer. She knew he had a key-- she would think the worst had happened.  Then she would open the door, and see him there.  

There was no way this plan could fail.  

Step one:  buzzer.  He pressed it as if it was urgent.

Step two... And three. He dug the ringbox from his pocket and checked its contents one last time.  Is that all he got for the money he paid? Seriously, what the hell.  He snapped back to reality for a moment to remember to kneel (for one so she wouldn't have Difficulty actually seeing the ring and another-- principle).  

He heard the lock turn and the door open and suddenly all his words went out the window.  All he could do was sit there, the most nervous grin on his face.  Was he sweating? Probably.  He was under the impression that he couldn't move at all till she said something.  

"...?"

ALGJSKLDFJLSDFJSDL--<3 <3 <3

LMAO, I enjoy Cosim's shopping strategy-- XDDDD

1. Can't find size.
2. Break stuff.
3. ???
4. okay.jpeg

/shot

Lmao it's the secret to bargain shopping. Avoid haggling. Just strike fear into the sellers and leave for an indefinite amount of time XD

I would like to see him try that against an Iranian. The price would just go up--

...And said Iranian would likely be in big trouble. XD

THIS ONE BROUGHT TO YOU BY LENIN CAT. http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ie-xdPlwsow/TZWcipJ7CcI/AAAAAAAANvI/Q0K6FsMWoN4/s1600/lenin%2527s+cat.jpg

THIS IS AWFUL DON'T EVEN READ IT--


"And where did you find this?"

"Him.  Where did I find him."

"Yes, I guess so." Sonya resigned nervously.  "So where did you-- where did you find him."  There was an animal in the apartment.  There was an animal in the apartment.  She was dangerously close to hyperventilating.  

Cosim scooped the dirty cat off the floor and let it have free reign of his shoulders.  "Outside by the dumpster." 

Oh god.  

He knew she had a problem with this right? He had to know.  There were good and badsides to Cosim's hidden boyishness.  One one hand, he was sensitive to helpless things-- which she loved so much.  He took the spiders she was afraid to touch all the way to the trees outside so she wouldn't feel so bad if either of them killed one.  She knew the day would come when he would find an animal that was more helpless outside than in.  The thing was, she couldn't say no to that quality of his.  He just looked so happy when he saved something.  

He broke her out of her reverie.  "Baby-- baby, look.  Who does he look like? Take a guess." Suddenly the cats face was inches away from hers, and the first thing she noticed was the smell.  Something so awful she couldn't even discern what it was.  But the next thing she noticed was worse.  

The cat looked like a Bolshevik.  "L-Lenin...?"

"One man with a gun can control 100 without one." Cosim shook the cat around lightly as he imitated his favorite leader.  "Isn't it cool? It's fate, I'm keeping him.  That's his name, too.  Vladimir."  

"I don't think that's a good idea... What if-- what if he... Already has an owner...?" Not likely.  But how else could she subtly refuse it? 

Cosim's face hardened into something morose.  "Well I didn't see anyone."

Okay, okay, that was out the window.  It was easy to put her foot down until she saw him upset.  Call her weak to fall for it, but seeing someone so stoic become sad was too much.  Plus he would mope until he got his way.  So there was really no going around it.  

"Can you... Can you clean i-- him up first?"

----- 

Cats were supposed to be aloof, loners, only coming out when they had their food... Right?  

This cat was something else or everything she knew about felines was wrong. It wouldn't leave Cosim's side.  Or his person.  Not at breakfast, not at dinner, not when they slept, not even when they wanted to be intimate.  The cat seemed to want to replace her.  

The only exception was when he went to work.  On days she was home alone, not only was she worrying for his safety but also she worried about Vladimir.  Everywhere she turned, he would be there.  Glaring.  She was just crazy right? This thing didn't really hate her. 

...But it didn't look at Cosim like that.  She was beginning to really worry.  If she had just stepped back and realized it was just a small animal who only looked angry because the fur above it's eyes looked like angry eyebrows--

No.  Cats had claws.  Claws can rip open skin.  This cat could probably kill her.  She was living in constant fear with that thing perpetually around every corner.  

For a while she refused to say anything.  Because she loved him, she had to remind herself.  She put up with it because she loved him.  But then one day she had come too close to tripping over little Vladimir (who was now quite fat), and the straw had finally broken the camel's back.

Screw this, he had to love her.  

While he was gone one day, she formulated a plan.  She would ruin the apartment (not difficult) and blame it on Vladimir.  Practically the whole building knew of Cosim's frighteningly persistent neatness OCD.  He would take one look and get rid of the cat. 

So she did what she did best.  Nothing.  Usually she was careful because of his sensitivity.  Now it all went out te window.  She shot glares at the cat as she threw things into disarray and tossed things onto the floor.  

She was halfway done with the kitchen, utensils juxtaposed over the floor and the counter, when the cat jumped up to one near her, gracefully... Neatly. 

And she realized-- what the hell was she doing? This cat never could have done it.  She was about to frame something small and defenseless.  (perhaps she was over-dramatizing but--) She had turned into a monster. A messy person, a mean person, the kind of person Cosim wouldn't love. 

Suddenly the fur over the car's eyes didn't seem angry at all.  Why didn't she just talk to Cosim in the first place? Set boundaries, or something? 

Tentatively, she reached out and touched the cats ears, jumping a little when they twitched under her fingers.  It was soft.  And he was still clean... Hadn't it been quite a while since it bathed? 

Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.  Boundaries.  That was all.  They could still have the cat and eat together They could still have the cat and make love, even (because he was really starting to wonder what was up with that).  They could still have the cat without it replacing her.

Realizing she was still petting it after its purr broke her thoughts in half, she retracted her hand.  Perhaps out of frustration with the pause in petting, the cats tail swiped a fork from the counter onto the floor.  It seemed just as skittish as she did about the loud clang it made on the tile.  

Sonya smiled.  She could get used to it, she supposed. "Bad Lenin." ...She could get used to saying that, too.

dfjsdjasd <3
sdjfajuiwef <33
that was so cute and lovely <333
never stop writing Cosim/Sonya or I will alert the kitty masses to your misdeeds
also, I am leaving this little gem riiiight here

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT THIS IS HILARIOUS. Although I am curious as to what Cosim's reaction was when he found the apartment totally destroyed. XD Secretly, she's been wanting to do that for a while, because it was starting to feel too clean to be a home--

And LMAOOO that very last sentence-- She is going to turn into that guy who yells at his cats, to take out her frustration with communism. "YAAAAAUUUUUUUUGGGHHHH, STOP MAKING COLLECTIVE FARMS!!" XDD


Also, panic, I laughed so hard, you don't even-- XDD

@Panic-- LMAO that video XD

IDK WHY I WRITE THIS I DON'T EVEN LIKE CATS THAT MUCH /SOB my friend's cats punch me in the face. Somehow they all do it. :I
Fff thankyouuu <3

@Plum-- pffft he obviously walked in, and then slowly walked back out. Now he lives in the car. /shot

LMAOOOOOO THAT COLLECTIVE FARMS QUOTE-- senior quote, senior quote /shot
LMAO I can imagine her moving like, the salt shaker to the bathroom just for lulz and hearing him go "WHAT THE HE'LL ARE YOU DOING HEREEEEEE--?!?!?"

And she is now stuck alone with the cat. Forever. XD GJ, Sonya, GJ.

LMAO, yessssss, do it, do it--/shot as well
And ALGKJSDLFJDSKFDSL--LOLOLOLOL LOOK WHAT I JUST FOUND. Sonya apparently vandalized her Lenin statues. THE TRUTH IS REVEALED: SHE AND DIMI RUN AROUND WITH CANS OF SPRAY PAINT BEHIND COSIM'S BACK.

Lmaooo what the hell XD

"HOW COULD YOU DO THISSSSSS---" XDD poor transi. She only likes him for his nose AND she defaces his idol? XD

Here's another one, fff thank you for the idea, plum XD all of you have USSR!Transi in a sort of 'what if' story XD

"You could sing to her."

"I'm not good at that." 

"You could try.  Let's hear it."

"..." The tall man looked across at the small child from where he was laying miserably in the grass.  "You just want to laugh at me." 

"Did you try giving her flowers?" Lidiya was in the middle of making her own necklace of weeds and small flowers as Cosim laid there, trying to sink into the soil.  

"I put one on her desk, she threw it away..."

"One?  And that doesn't count as 'giving', you know."  

He sat up, indignant.  What a sight it was, a grown man (almost)  being berated by a young child.  "And how do you know?" 

"I'm smarter than you are."  She replied simply, engrossed in her work.

"No you're not."  He knew she was.  "There's alot of stuff you don't know."  

"I know how to talk to my sister, and that's way more than you do."  

He was silent for a minute until he could gather more thoughts to his arsenal.  "Speaking of, you were supposed to put in a good word for me--"

"I did!" She replied automatically.  "I told her you did a cartwheel yesterday during recess.  She wasn't impressed, I don't think."

He was there to fix anything that could go wrong with the steel in the facility. But when he didn't have work to do, well... Due to extenuating circumstances that he usually wouldn't expound, he was still a boy at heart.  He had never had the chance to go to school or be a child.  That meant that though he was strong, though he was handsome... He was stupid.  Incredibly so. Perhaps that's where he was lacking in his quest to gain a woman's heart. 

"She just denies that I exist, doesn't she?"  Frustration was beginning to overwhelm him.

"Yup."  She replied, standing to place the weed wreath on his head, coming in sharp contrast with his immaculately smoothed back hair.  

"I've tried and tried... And I'm here to help her, too!"

"You sure are."

"I... I... I'm gonna go and tell her what for...!"  

"Go for it."  

He had basically coached himself, with the little enthusiasm  she put in.  He tried to stand, but still wasn't used to the lankiness he had gained in the past few years.  He tumbled a ways down the hill-- miraculously the wreath stayed on his head.  But now he had matching grass stains and leaves sticking out of his uniform to compliment it.  He got up immediately and marched into the building.  For a while he was lost, and the marching ceased, until he reached the control room.  He had barely dragged himself in and--there she was!  Backpedaling, he took a deep breath and marched in, for effect.  

His voice didn't want to come along for the ride.  It was squeaky, nervous, and shaking as he saw her.  Well, the back of her.  (it almost made one worry if he would just faint if he saw her face) "M-m-miss Rostis-s-slavivna...!" 

She turned, readying her apathy for another round of useless compliments and offers from an idiot of a man. Taken aback by the state he was in, though, she ended up greeting him with a small giggle that slowly grew into a laugh.  

Somewhere in his mind he should have thought that she was laughing at him.  But he could only smile.  He had made her laugh, and her laugh was even more beautiful than he could have imagined.  

His mind panicked again, though, when it was back to business. "I h-have something to say to you-- and you may not like it-- but it's p-pretty important, and I think you sh-should listen to me...!"  

She raised an eyebrow.  "Oh...? What is it?"  This was too, too funny.  

He had to close his eyes to stop himself from shaking.  Say it, and pretend he was the only one there, and he wouldn't be nervous.  "For too long I asked if I could talk to you-- and you never let me.  So now i'll say what I wanted to say then, because I think you'll want to hear it."  He took a deep breath and began.  "Ever since I got here, and I saw you, I said, well, to myself, I said, 'That is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen'.  You want to know why I think so?  Because... Because..."  He had waited so long to get his say, only for the words to not come out.  "Because you walk like you know where you're going."  He was still lost in this world.  He was happy, but still adjusting.  After all, he spent most of his time alone in the steel mill.  "And because you don't know you're beautiful."  Her hair sparkled like spun gold in the sun... But she would stick a pencil in it, and the image would be shattered.  Well, to most, not him.  "Because you know things that I wouldn't even know how to learn, and I want to learn."  His articulation was awful, and he knew it.  He was glad it was almost over.  "And... And... Because you think you're alone but... But I see the same sadness in your eyes that I see in mine.  And I'll sing for you, do a cartwheel, give you as many flowers as I can find to make you see that I really really lov--" 

He was silenced by something warm.  Opening his eyes, slowly, he realized it was her lips.  She must have walked over while his eyes were closed--she listened to him! She didn't leave the room like she usually did.  And she was even kissing him?! He didn't know what to do.  Was he supposed to kiss her back?  

Before he could act, she pulled away, still holding on to his collar.  "You're an idiot," She smiled sadly.  "The biggest idiot I know."  she wiped some of the lipstick off of his mouth with her thumb.  "But sometimes it takes an idiot to say something so brave... And true... I guess,"  her smile grew less and less sad.  "and I like you.  You don't have to cartwheel or sing or give me anymore flowers. You know the ones I 'throw away'... I pick them out of the garbage after work."  She'd accumulated about 3 bouquets by then.  She began to realize he wasn't the typical man, but she was afraid to like him for the wrong reasons.  There was no wrong reason, really.  "Even the flowers I find on the control panel I know you put them there,"  She reached up to pull grass from his hair and adjust the wreath, a giggle escaping her mouth.  "Because you tie the ends of your flowers because you think they'll last longer if the water can't leave from the bottom,"  She couldn't resist giving him another kiss, which, he finally took the chance to return.  It lasted for a few moments, long enough for him to wrap his arms around her.  Was this really happening?

"Because I'm an idiot." He grinned, pulling her closer as his nervousness disappeared.  

"Yes, but," She wrapped her arms over his shoulders.  "I don't think I want you to learn, otherwise.  I think I'm too smart.  Maybe I need an idiot."   

DDJJSSHNGLSJFDKFSLJFDSLKS-- CB /cannot get over this cannot get over this cannot get over this

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

"I've tried and tried... And I'm here to help her, too!"

"You sure are."

"I... I... I'm gonna go and tell her what for...!"

"Go for it."

Today, I am coughing more than a person with TB, but this dialogue makes everything okay. B) XD You have no idea how much I laughed throughout their convo, pffft XD

FFFF thank you XD I love snarky little kids XD I totally enjoyed writing it XDD

((HEEYYY it's not transi/cherry, but I needed somewhere to put this, too XD))

"Where's Franze?" 

The servant only shook his head sadly and walked away.  

"Hey...!"  The boy called after him, but it was too late.  

Piter's friend-- well, not so much friend as partially coerced playmate-- had returned home that week.  He hadn't known the circumstances of why.  He just knew that she was back and that it was good-- he had been so bored for a while.  

Even more bored as he trudged through the palace hallways, shrugging off the feeling that the air seemed much heavier than before.  Oh well.  It was an Austrian palace. Something had to be wrong with the circulation. Perhaps one day he could climb into the ducts and find out.  

He knew he shouldn't have entered the lady's room unannounced when he reached it, but in his mind, she wasn't a lady, she was just Franze.  But what he saw there didn't seem to be much like Franze.

It was dark, the curtains were drawn.  The room was unlit save for slivers of sunshine between the curtains that cut through the room like knives.  He was able to make out a tiny, curled up form on the bed.  She never usually slept that way-- he knew because he often woke up early to show her the new insects he'd catalogued; It was funny to see her squirm. He crawled up onto the bed and peeked over he shoulder. 

"You're not even sleeping." He declared indignantly, poking  her cheek. There was little reaction. 

"I don't have time for you right now," She almost whispered.  Her voice was barely a rasp.  

"Really? because you don't look very busy."

"Piter..."

He would wake her up at any cost.  The questions came quicker than machine gun fire.  "Were you crying?"

"no."

"Then why are your eyes red?  Why is mucus coming out of your nose?"

She scowled a little and rolled over, trying to pull the covers from under him.  "Why were you crying?"

"..."

"Why are you sleeping during the day?"

"..."

Something was wrong with her, he'd surmised.  She seemed older, more tired... And frighteningly sad.  But there was only one thing on his mind.  Himself.  

"Why did you leave me?"

Franze's expression softened.  After losing a child, the fact that someone needed her in the way that a child did finally chipped some ice from her heart.  Weakly, she sat herself up and tried for a smile.  "Fine... One game.  Then you need to go home.  Versteht?"  

He was already rummaging through her closets for something to do.  The boy obviously didn't heed her warning, because things began to accumulate on the bed.  Books, kids' games, a chess set that he had made her buy to practice (no point, she was hopeless, really) were all piling up around her.  He came back with another board game.

"Just pick ONE." She repeated.  

He held up the chess set.

"Not that one."  The bane of her existence.  Always chess. What was his infatuation with it? 

Staring her down to make sure she would change her mind (she wouldn't) he picked out a book and rested against her, his head taking it's usual place on her shoulder.  It didn't strike him as odd, it had been a ritual for as long as he could remember.  She opened the book-- he had already heard it many times before.  It was one of his favorites, if something being in German could be called a favorite at all.  It was about three brothers determined to catch a little white thief, and being outsmarted constantly because they were just too stupid.  He liked stories like that-- and she began to read.  

Piter didn't really know why he liked her reading.  Her accent was terrible.  But there was something about it. 

Yet something wasn't right.  She was quieter, and her voice got shakier and shakier until he could only hear small, shaking breaths.  And something told him he shouldn't disclose how displeased he was with her performance.

So he took her hand quietly, and began reading to her.  It seemed to calm her down somewhat, but he did notice a few tears drop onto the pages.  But her grip on his hand became less weak.  

"I killed my baby, Piter," She murmured, finally, tears continuing to roll down her cheeks.  

He stared at her wide-eyed for a moment.  Why hadn't she told him?  A wave of crushing sympathy rushed over him, and there was nothing he could do but turn back to the book and continue reading, putting as much confidence through as he could mutter.  He could hear her crying then, and keeping himself afloat from drowning in her sorrow was becoming increasingly difficult.  

Eventually, the noise ceased and her grip on his hand eased.  He looked over-- she was finally asleep.  Something told him that hadn't happened for her in a while.  

He pulled the covers up over her and hopped off her bed.  Pulling her hair out of her eyes and kissing her forehead lightly, he murmured selfishly (yet with a hint of care), "You would have been happier if you just stayed to take care of me."       

Blerg blerg. I refused to read this over because I know it's bad :I I thought too much about it, thats why. OH WELL.
----------------------------

Cosim was in a mood. Or, that was the name Sonya had given to these recent episodes. Of course, she wouldn't divulge the name to him. It would only make him more... moody? Depressed? She still didn't know. She'd spent time studying the behavior like a scientist would monitor an experiment when it began, but there was nothing to test it against, no real gain to be made by observing his pain. By now she had just learned to sink with him.

What were these moods? They'd started after he'd quit drinking heavily, although she surmised prior to her temperance movement drinking heavily dissipated the moods. It happened once every few months.

He was an early riser, and wouldn't get out of bed that day. He'd stare out the window and look as if he'd lost something-- nothing material, and lost too long ago to motivate searching. The normally stoic but overly gentle man who made a living by mafia fearmongering and then came home to clean the house for his wife had seemingly lost the ability to have any enthusiasm, and that night after she'd been to work (she heard the pharmacy had been called by him several times asking for her while she was out. No calls came in after she returned though, so she figured he had solved whatever trivial problem by himself) she'd gone to give him his dinner, and wasn't met with who she knew at all, but a man with red-rimmed eyes and messily wiped damp cheeks.

For a moment she thought about embracing him right there-- how many times had he done the same? But men had dignity and pride and all those things she realized were better to toss aside long ago. She didn't want to ignore it, either. These fits were getting worse, and she didn't want to someday come home to no husband at all. All the other times she'd tried tough love, feigned ignorance, or whatever else would help him shake off whatever feeling was clouding his mind. None had worked. A good part of her, though, wanted just to hold him and make those problems go away just like he did with her. That part wanted to finally be strong for him, and for him to for once be vulnerable with her. Maybe that glass shell around him was finally cracking. Cracking, and cutting into his heart. And he needed her, she told herself. Now she got to be the strong one.

Remembering he usually didn't eat on days like this (it worried her to no end, but... strength, strength), she set the plate of whatever they had around at the moment on the bedside table, and took off her jacket and boots. He was still in the clothes he had gone to sleep in. She crawled under the messy sheets with him (if he was his normal self, he'd have a real problem laying there--) and drew as close as she could, kissing the ashen stubble on his jaw. “Cosim...”

“You never called back...” It hadn't been some small trial he was faced with. His voice seemed to have lost half its life.

“I'm sorry.” That was all she really could say.

“I needed you.” He sounded as if she'd betrayed him. Over the years she had known him, she'd learned he could be jealous, selfish, and petty, like a child. But it only seemed natural. After all, had he ever gotten a chance to be a child?

“I'm sorry...”

“You're not their wife...” She was looking into the eyes of a drowning man.

“I know.” She took his face in her hands to better see the storm he was riding out. “I'm sorry... I love you.” He greedily took the small kiss she offered like it was resuscitation from unconsciousness.

Cosim smiled, barely, and sniffed away the residual of uncommon tears. “Why?”

Why? She hadn't really thought about it. It was a natural creed to her, like subscribing to gravity, and time, and the length of a life. The world would always turn, and she would live and die loving Cosim. But still, she needed to play along with him, to get her husband back as quickly as possible while still savoring the time she could finally read his face like he did hers. “Because you're a good man.”

He looked worried. It was the wrong answer. “You can't... you can't say that.” He wanted his recovery to go his way, and not the way it should. “It doesn't mean anything...”

“What do you mean?”

“Why?” He implored desperately. “Why am I good?”

Suddenly the lethargic energy in the room turned to intense sadness and fear. “Cosim, what's all this about...?”

“Please...”

She couldn't bear to see that heartbreaking gaze. Drawing his head to her chest, she stroked the back of his hair. It didn't trouble her at all that she couldn't verbalize all the reasons she cared for him-- but it would bother him. Someday she would make him see that he didn't have to prove anything to the world. He was dragging himself down by his own standards. He'd long since realized they were impossible to meet, but couldn't let go from the man he used to be, when everything he really believed in seemed to be in reach. “You know, I was very sad for a very long time,” She began quietly into his hair. “I was miserable. Back then I thought I was only entertaining the impossible, but... I always wondered how things would have changed if I paid more attention to that soldier who brought flowers more often than he should have brought steel.” Rubbing his back softly, she felt his muscles uncoil themselves from knots as his breathing slowed. It was like telling a child a story about a hero who had their name. “He was so unbelievably happy... happy to be someone apart of something. Happy to have something to get up for. I didn't know why, or how... And I guess thats what made me dislike him. But now I know. He knew he had a chance to change himself-- the world, even.”

“He was stupid.” Self-loathing radiated from the words as his eyes met hers, daring her to prove him wrong.

“Naive.” She corrected. “And the world chewed him up and spit him out before he could take that chance. So he tried to create one on his own and he lost track of himself...”

He wasn't saying anything. Sonya could only hope that he believed her, or was even listening at all. When things went wrong, like a child, he would shut himself off. She kissed his ear lightly, as if checking a mic.

“But I still see that soldier there, in his eyes, and how he loves me, and I don't have to wonder anymore what my life would have been like. Because this is it-- he is it... and he's more handsome, and courageous, and loving-- he's so much more than he used to be. Or what I could have ever thought.”

She heard an intake of breath, like he was struggling to word something. “...Handsome?” He finally mumbled.

That couldn't have been what he was initially upset over. And she was willing to bet it wasn't, and that his issue was already buried, for the time being. “Yes,” She smiled into his forehead.

He cracked a small smile, and relief flooded through her. “This all was about me... right? ...You're talking about me?”

It was true-- the longer she'd known him, the more she found him more and more attractive. Perhaps it was how every event in his life was marked somewhere on him, and in that way she could know his experiences even though he hardly ever had more than a few words to say about them. The serial number forever stamped into his wrist, the bullet scars on his back, the shadows under his eyes; that coarse, thick silver hair. She could trace his life with her fingers in less than a night-- and that was more often than not what she did almost every evening. That wasn't including the scars added to his face; a few extensive ones across his enchantingly crooked nose, cheeks, and forehead from his ill-judged exploits in this new world; or his face itself: deep set eyes, wide stoic cheekbones and a jaw that exuded conviction even when he chewed.

Maybe the attraction came also from the fact that he was the one that was stared at on the street when they walked together-- not like she wanted him to take the bad attention away. He knew what it was like to be judged that way, just as she had after the disaster. But he didn't care. And she wanted to try not caring too, sometime.

He wasn't anyone else's idea of handsome but she knew she would have him all to herself.

“I have eclectic taste,” She remarked, earning her a grin from a multitude of steel teeth, which she set her lips to as soon as they appeared. “Don't get a big head about it.”

Tickling her sides, he grinned impishly (an odd expression on such a countenance), “Well then, why don't you put your eclectic taste on my big--”

“Cosim...!”

And that was how it went. He would sink into a depression over his place on the earth and if ever he had a purpose at all. She would hold him close and reassure him, and that idealism charged back up like a battery; he acted like it had never happened, and she would indulge him, never mentioning it the next time. For a fleeting moment, every once in a blue moon, she would be the strong one, and she would attempt to mend the wounds of a hurt animal that always ran and hid before she was finished. But she would always get her second chance. Someday, she hoped, so would he.

Ffffffff I say I'll finish one but then I start another. :I This is Fränze/Itak, carnival centered =v=

--------------

He had kept up his side of the bargain.  She had taught him how to dance (however confusing it may have been-- although she did promise to make him a master waltzer... So he was beginning to rethink this deal) and he would show her the world around her.  Which... Most, if not all people would already know of already.  

But Fränze... She was a paradox.  She existed, she lived, but at the same time, she seemed to be suspended within herself.  Now she was beginning to see there was a whole new world outside of her mirrors and her men (he still hadn't gotten a straight answer about the man he only could hate through bruises).  She would look to the latter as her sun and the former as the universe.  Finite.  Certain.  Well...Not anymore.  But still she existed as an anomaly. 

"How do you know which stars belong to a constellation?" She pulled him out of his quiet observations, ruby lips pursed in his direction while her large eyes were lost in the stars. "...Itakshir?"

"Well--" He could kiss those lips while her eyes were busy.  "Use the coordinates of another star."

But he wouldn't.  And he couldn't.  Because, for some reason, he seemed to still doubt her existence.  She could kiss him, certainly. Luck could also kiss the blessed few, it didn't mean they would find it if they looked.  

Never before had he really come across such vanity.  Yet, it didn't deter him, merely confused.  Perhaps she was looking in those mirrors, touching her hair, coloring herself to assure that she did and would continue to exist. Like she was in danger of fading into nothing if she didn't remind the world that she still had color.  

She was all smoke and mirrors-- in her looks and manner and smile-- but somehow as tangible and as commanding as marble.  She seemed to proclaim her life goals in her appearance but also stunted it, as if daring the gods above to try to age her porcelain painted skin.

And so he was afraid to touch her save for those times when she decided to let a bit of her color disappear onto his lips.

She spoke up again, softly, like the feel of a flower petal.  "I don't think I know any stars."

"Well, it's important."

"Why?"

She was all new to him. People came from the earth-- from the air, and volcanoes, and the sea and the soil.  He had absolutely no inkling of why anyone would want to deny they were of these things-- deny they were, in essence, human.  Fränze was none of those things, or, she tried so hard to appear so. She was perfume and a comfortable life and bath salts and powder.  

"It's important so you won't be lost." He replied seriously.  She wasn't taking it as such.  "You know, when you go places. You see," He took her hand to remind himself that she was still there, and not merely some Cheshire cat smile of beauty made up of floral scent.  Lifting it to the sky, he got as close as he could to make sure he was pointing where she could see.  "That... Is the north star.  So no matter where you are, you'll know... Well, where you are."

She only stared at him.  "That doesn't make sense." 

It should have, to her, he almost said. But the truth she tried to hide from herself would be too painful to bear.  She had been following false stars all along. They would never lead her home, or tell her where she was.  She had been lost for so long with false confidence, blinded by her own smoke and mirrors. The woman who wasn't really there, and the girl who desperately tried to hide behind her.  "Don't worry, it takes time." It really didn't.  Then again, she had said the same thing about dancing. "In the meantime, I'll look out for you." He laughed, shaking the sentiment off his shoulders.  "Could I have something to track you by?"

She smiled, leaned in, and left her color on his lips. "How about that?"

"Not sure it's enough..."

"Well what kind of hunter are you, then?"

Itakshir didn't believe love was really possible. But he wouldn't mind her following his star for a while.