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SOBS WHERE DID GLASSBOTTLESLU GO IM YELLING OH MAN NO PLEASE COME BACK

#PLEASE #SO I CAN SAY GOODBYE TO TYPIST EVEN OMG #THIS SUCKS ASS #glassbottleslu

Claimed.

A kiss

Vartouhi looked up at him with an apologetic smile, cheeks dusted with pink. Her hands pressed very gently against his chest—just enough to steady herself as she lifted up on her feet, brushing her lips chastely across his. Her heart thudded and she lost courage, immediately backing down and taking her hands back to curl them around one another under her chin. “I… I apologize if it was a bit of a disappointment.”

#glassbottleslu #v'r

glassbottleslu

Zephyr's nose twitched slightly as the boy's scent reached his nose, arms crossing smoothly over his chest. He should have realized that anyone claiming to be selling emotions of all things had to have at least an iota of a drop of Seelie blood in them. His own people had no need for such frivolities, but he was exceptionally curious.

#{thanks for following!}#replies #glassbottleslu

#glassbottleslu #typist.

-- glassbottleslu

The sound of the city is not one that Taemin can say he is fond of. The click of horses hooves on the cobblestone, pulling the carriages to their destinations. The cheer in the air-- laughter, gossip, squeals of happiness as the parade marches through the city. And the train-- that head splitting howl of its horn as it passes through, shaking the ground and the glass of the surrounding shops. They're all reminders of what he no longer has.

A normal life.

The summer sun bears down on him as his hasty steps carry him down the street-- or rather, the back alleys that take him twice as long to maneuver. However, he knows his way-- this option far better than the main street, where he receives looks of disgust and the pointing fingers of small children as they whisper to their mothers. There, the hood of his cloak is often pulled even further over his face and his dreadful wool scarf over his nose-- hiding the monstrosity underneath to avoid further humiliation.

As he walks, he avoids allowing his eyes to wander to windows of the surrounding buildings, instead keeping his eyes trained on the stones in front of him in order to avoid his reflection as he makes his way to the local bakery-- in need of some flour for the week. It's as he does so that he finds himself lost in his thoughts-- no longer paying attention to his surroundings.

The toe of his shoe catches a loose cobblestone, sending him tumbling to the ground. Arms stretch out to brace his fall, but instead end up scraped and battered. And then his eyes fall on the puddle of water-- gaze catching his own in the wavering reflection.

"No, no, no, no, no--" The words fall from his lips in gasp, and he scrambles backwards away from the puddle desperately. What he saw had been ugly, disgusting, vile.. Seemingly worsening as the days, months, years go on. He'd been beautiful and happy as a child, they had said. But somewhere along the line, he had become a disgrace of a human-- features contorted in the ugliest of ways, and distancing himself from the outside world as he locks himself away in the back of his bakery; because they deserve better than a vile human being such as himself, and he refuses to mar their lives with his presence.

#glassbottleslu #v: beauty is in the eye of the beholder #;starter #para.#[ wow this is really long ]#[ I may have gotten carried away oops ]#[ you don't have to match length-- ]