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half Iago, half Fu Manchu, all bastard
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
No, she'd said, and wasn't that just the truth? No. Of course she wasn't. Beaten half to hell, no glasses, bullet wound she'd been carrying for days and that sure as hell wasn't okay. Those bodies lying in front of them -- one lying, anyhow, one sort of scattered -- they weren't okay either; they were dead. The boy who'd left probably wasn't even close to okay. The whole world around them or at least the little bubble world that was the island was no, no, no.

But he'd said yes.

And he was, Erik thought. A little band-aid of yes over a torn flesh wound leaking no, scraps of no ragged against gleaming white no-bone, no spurting from arteries and no hardening and drying under his nails -- but yes still holding the ripped edges of no together. That was what came to mind when she said Frankenstein, when literature crept into the morbidly visual effects invading his subconscious.

He shook himself briefly, like a dog. Pinned his lips around no and said, instead "Uh-uh. Well." This was easier. Conversation. Something where he wasn't thinking grandiose and stupid thoughts that would disappear like smoke on the wind or will-o-the-wisps when the shock wore off and cold hard reality set in, bringing pain as a permanent house-guest. "Read bits of it. Did Lit but we never got so far in, just analyzed the hell out of it and then got in trouble when someone wrote a four page essay on it being about repressed sexual issues."

marc st. yves
light it up or burn it down we'll all die in fire
{food for thought}

phineas rosario
fall down seven times stand up eight

sebastian conway
can't see the forest for the trees
{book of sparrows}

(so you've got to keep in mind, when you try to change the world for the better not everybody's gonna be on your side)
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Burn On · The Mountain