Test 1

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Wow. Wow wow wow.

Scifi / Poetry
Age Rating:

Test 2

“Would it kill you to be more careful with my things?” Lydia scowled, struggling to clutch all of her beloved belongings to her chest. If possible, there’d be a hole in the back of his head were her eyes bore all of her frustration onto him. Betelgeuse remained unfazed as he continued to scan through her films in search of one that would satisfy his taste.
“Jus’ might die a second time, babes.” He muttered.
With Lydia’s annoyance temporarily subdued, she went in search for other things that were scattered around her bedroom floor. Lydia found a VHS tape on the floor that barely peaked from under her bed. She bent down to pick it up and to her surprise, it was Night of the Living Dead. She politely pulled it out of its hiding place and gingerly picked up its cover, giving it a once-over.
Betelgeuse was still in the corner of her room, muttering to himself like a madman as he perused the shelf. Lydia popped it back into its case and snapped it shut before a sharp, stinging sensation shot up her thumb. She yelped and dropped the case, shaking her hand vigorously. Lydia carefully examined her finger. A small, deep cut ran across the pad of her thumb. She put it between her lips when she saw that the blood was running down her finger. As quickly as it began, Betelgeuse appeared next to her, not quite fazed, but slightly alarmed at the change of mood.
“What’d you do?” He asked casually.
“Oh nothing, it’s okay.” She faltered. It did sting quite a bit. “Stupid box...” Lydia muttered.
“May I?” He gestures to the finger that was held up to her pale face. Lydia nodded warily and let it be taken by Betelgeuse’s strong, cold hands. He lightly brushed his own thumb over it, before quickly moving it away after she winced.
“Easy...” she mumbled.
Betelgeuse gripped her wrist gently and held the thumb up to his face. He positioned Lydia’s hand so it cupped the left side of his face with his large hand holding it softly. Without breaking eye contact, he kissed her thumb tenderly and pulled it away slowly. His mouth was cold and his stubble scratched at her palm, though it wasn’t nearly as unpleasant. Lydia was slightly stunned at the gesture, as sweet as it was. They were both well aware of their proximity and the newly formed tension between them. In a poor attempt of alleviating it, Betelgeuse took her hand and rubbed it against his lapels as if he was trying to get it clean as a mirror, and Lydia giggled softly, but the real surprise would be revealed when he let her hand go.
She couldn’t believe it. Lydia examined her thumb once more and found no sign of injury or remnants of blood. Her breath caught in her chest as she smiled in pure disbelief.
“You can-you can heal things?” Lydia asked, though it was no question of “can”.
Taken aback by the genuine curiosity behind her large, doe eyes, he let himself smile a bit before replying “I’m your magic man, baby.”
“Can you heal all wounds?”
“Not a broken leg or anything, so don’t go offing yerself, but cuts and such are a walk in the park.”
“Wow” she whispered. So quietly in-fact, that he could’ve missed. Without warning, he snaked his large arm around her small waist and ever-so-slowly pulled her in closer to him.
“Speaking of which,” Betelgeuse’s piercing green eyes rounded on her as his other arm tucked a lock of hair behind her rounded ears. “That mouth of yers is lookin’ mighty sore.” He gave her a deliciously filthy smile with canines that she swore could pierce her skin at any moment.
“Watch it.” Lydia admonished boldly. It was fairly rare for her to stand her ground. “You’re on thin ice as it is.” she ended with a cheeky grin. Her hands on his chest was the only barrier between them. Betelgeuse smiled and backed away a bit, not entirely unwrapping his arm however.
“Please tell me you at least decided on a movie.”
“‘Course I have.” He replied gruffly “We’re watchin’ Citizen Kane.”
Lydia didn’t reply immediately, she’d removed herself from Betelgeuse’s iron grip and was carefully stacking her movies back on the shelf. “What, that film don’t sit right with ya or somethin’?” He asked when she didn’t reply. Lydia was still staring at her thumb.
“Oh, I actually haven’t watched it yet. Figured I’d leave it for a special occasion.” She smiled politely.
Lydia fiddled with the setting on the VCR before jumping onto her bed and under the covers. Betelgeuse followed suit, but occasionally her bed proved to be just a bit too small for the two of them, at least to Lydia’s standard. The close quarters tested his patience and her endurance, but he kept a solid inch or two to spare.
In the meantime, Betelgeuse conjured up some jiffy pop and settled it between both bodies. The film began and Lydia found herself getting quite invested in the plot, though often times found herself having to rewind because she and Betelgeuse were too busy laughing or making humorous comments.
“Rosebud...rosebud, rosebud, rosebud.” He mumbled, fixated on the TV screen before him lost in thought.
“Hmm?” Lydia queried absentmindedly.
“See putz right there? His last words?” Betelgeuse pointed to the screen. “They meant jack shit.” His words were muffled by a mouth full of popcorn.
“Trust me when I say this.” Betelgeuse began, forming the beginning of a succinct statement. “Ain’t no one - dead or alive - able to gather their thoughts enough for some grandiose fuckin’ last heave. It’s all white n’ bright, then you’re gone.”
Lydia glared at him.
“You can’t possibly be suggesting that Thompson’s running around for nothing? He was hired for it for gods sake.” She scoffed. “Y’know, you may be wise and all, but there’s gonna be a time in your afterlife where you’re just plain wrong.” Lydia huffed. She curled her legs up to her little body, uncovering herself a bit from her thick blanket. She’d been quite invested in the movie and wasn’t prepared to let Betelgeuse spoil it for her now, even if she did half-heartedly agree with his statement.
“Whatever you say, doll.”

It was 11 pm. The credits of the film were slowly rolling over Lydia’s TV. Consequently, the dim screen shrouded her room in a dull, blue light that barely illuminated their faces. Lydia was fast asleep, head lolled on the right towards Betelgeuse. While she lay comfortable underneath the duvet, he was stiff and unmoving, afraid that any subtle movement would stir her from her ethereal sleep. He’d never stayed with her this late, and he’d certainly never been around whilst she slept. Thinking that he’d overstayed his welcome, Betelgeuse moved to sit up and off of the bed. Lydia’s small body subconsciously shifted closer to him after she sensed the lack of weight on that side of the bed. He stared at her for a second. Lydia was so beautiful that he felt guilty for even considering leaving her side, even if just for a moment. Betelgeuse froze and muttered curses under his breath. He sunk back into the bed slowly, this time leaning into her. She hooked one hand in the crook of Betelgeuse’s arm and nestled her cheek into his suit. And so they lay like that, Lydia curled up next to Betelgeuse, and Betelgeuse struggling with himself, just begging for a break.
He sighed and wrapped his left arm around her body, pulling her in closer. Lydia stirred a bit, but ultimately didn’t wake.

“Miss Deetz,” he whispered to her “you will be the death of me.”

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