#!Deceitful!Ho-Oh

[averagemysticchaos]

WIP Ho-Oh & Lugia fan designs

Ho-Oh:

Very little changed about it other than a few things that I thought would fit my style better. More focused on being pretty than actual flight, as I thought that would be neat. Likely to change later on.

Lugia:

This incarnation of Lugia is actually just if Lugia had more time to acclimate and adjust to water, this implies that it was a species rather than a singular entity. It’s more robust and not suited for flight (Having a denser skeleton and muscular structure.)

[streamdotpng]

(Yoko and Wednesday are roommates. Warning for creepy people, murder, and gore. Mostly from Hyde-Tyler getting murdered.)

"Why'd you do it, Addams?" Wednesday doesn't halt in hitting her typewriter keys; she barely acknowledges Yoko's presence in their shared dorm.

"I've done nothing, Tanaka."

"Oh, ho, ho. Well, well, well," Yoko says. Wednesday can hear her snarky grin in her voice, "but you have. They found a body in the woods." That grabs the seer's interest. She turns around to face her roommate.

"A body?" Yoko grins, fangs out and gleaming.

"A body. Intact for the most part, which seems odd for you. I do have to say, good on you for picking targets. Apparently, the guy was big-shot journalist's son, who got off charges of being a creep because he's daddy's got power."

Wednesday nods, "the Fitzpatrick's son. A most fine target; on that we agree." She turns to face her typewriter once more. "But I wasn't being deceitful when I said this kill wasn't mine. Unfortunate, too. I'd love to have this one added to my record."

Yoko visibly deflates, dramatically falling onto her bed and spreading out.

"Dammit! I bet Divina 20 dollars it was you..."

"I am flattered you think it was mine, truly."

Yoko sighs, dejected.

She sits up.

"Maybe it was the Nevermore Monster!" She wiggles her fingers, making a low 'oooooo' sound.

"The Nevermore Monster? What is that?"

Yoko blinks.

"You don't know the Nevermore Monster? It fits, like, 80% of your interests. All the way up your ally." Wednesday scoff.

"Are you insinuating I'm a liar?"

"I ain't callin' you a truther!"

"Why would I lie about that?! If I knew of a man-murdering monster around Nevermore, I'd tell everyone that came too close that I'd call for it to eat them." Wednesday rips out her paper and sets it in the box with the others. She stands up, and grabs a flashlight.

"Where are you going?" Wednesday calls out for thing, stopping so the hand can climb her and rest on her shoulder.

"To look for the monster." She walks to the window.

"What?! Are you crazy? If Weems finds out, you're dead!"

"Good thing my roommate won't tell on me," she turns to face the vampire, staring her in the eyes. "Otherwise I'll tell Fisher about her photo album of her." Yoko's hands tighten.

"Oh, you little—" she punches the air, grinding her teeth.

"I'll be back later. Or maybe the monster will eat me." She turns back to the window. Opens it, then steps out.

"What bliss."

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

Wednesday honestly wasn't expecting to find much; a particularly hungry animal if anything. Though, most animals never attack humans, and even fewer eat them. A pity, really.

She's near the edge of the woods when she hears this... sound. It sounds like a wolf and a person yelling at once, like they came from the same throat.

Thing jumps off and runs back to the dorms.

Coward.

There's a low, heavy thumping, akin someone taking large rocks and slamming them down.

She looks for the source and sees nothing. The moon's mostly out, providing some natural lighting.. Her flashlight helps brighten things up when she can't quite make them out.

There's a massive fallen log and she has to walk over it. It's so thick she has to lift her leg past her stomach just to get over it.

She's only a few yards from it when she hears a bone-rattling crunch!

She turns around, and sees the log is snapped clean in half, a figure retreating into the shadows.

Her right hand reaches for a knife, the left one holding her flashlight in a white-knuckle grip.

The figure of the thing dashes around until her back hits a tree. She runs away, sprinting until she finds a hiding spot. The monster sniffs around for her, and when it finds her little hiding spot, it stares at her. It lowers itself to the ground.

And she just stares at the almost-person that stares back. Its body is hidden behind the bushes and a fallen tree, leaving just its human-looking skull shown.

The —person? They look so human— thing looks almost normal. So close, but it's just off in a way that has even Wednesday's skin crawling.

It's arms (what she can see, anyways) are long and thin, like tree branches. It's teeth are bared in what seems to be curiosity, and they look like needles. It's eyes have a pitch black sclera, the color other color being the blue rings of it's eyes. It's got deer-antlers, thick like a buck's.

Its claws are wolf-like, and massive.

"What are you?" She whispers

An elongated ear swishes. There's fur on it. A tail thumps the ground behind it.

It's mouth moves, and for the first time Wednesday realizes it has lips.

"Roo—" the thing pauses, and stares at her harder. "Rah." It sticks its oddly human lips out in a pout and glares at them. Its glaring at its mouth, Wednesday realizes; its angry that it can't talk to her.

"The Nevermore Monster." She says. The thing's head dips in a sort of nod, blinking its bright eyes at her.

"Mmm." Wednesday, despite herself, smiles.

"You can communicate!" She takes one of her knives off her belt and tosses it to the ground, right in front of the thing's eyesight.

Its sheath and handle is black, the metal a dark red color.

"ROW." The thing growls, swiping at the sheath. When the knife falls out of the ruined leather, it takes the knife and holds it, inspecting it. Twirling it this way and that.

"Rooooooooooo." The thing starts purring. It places the knife on the ground and starts pawing at it, flinging it one way, stopping it, when flinging it the opposite way.

"Do you not like black?" She can't help but feel... bad. She adores black, but this monster doesn't seem to share her color-scheme.

Does the monster like her?

The beast tilts its head, then looks her up and down.

"Rah!" Its head bobs.

"Do you even understand me?"

"Raw!" Wednesday blinks at the mammoth thing.

"Okay."

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

("How was it meeting the Nevermore Monster?" Yoko'd asked, teasing.

Wednesday scoff, pressing her typewriter's keys.

"There's so much blood." She writes.

"There was no monster, Tanaka." She lies.

"A monster's roar shakes the ground we stand on."

"I should've known better than to believe gossip.")

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

She's found out a lot. Like the fact that the monster needs so much food. She lead a dozen cattle one night and there wasn't even bone left over. Except for a skull that she got to keep.

Yoko screamed when she saw it on Wednesday's desk.

It's become a routine: Wednesday goes and does all the work she has to, goes to the store after curfew, and finds little snacks and foods for the beast to taste.

She's named her.

Enid.

The beast had chittered at the name, wiggling pointy ears and cooing like a bird. She liked it.

She also found that she doesn't hate black; she likes black on Wednesday at least. her favorite color is pink.

Wednesday had to buy a shirt and pants so big she could sleep in them like a blanket, and they barely fit her the monster.

Enid likes pink most, she learns. She has Thing pick up the most expensive, high-quality clothing she can get custom-made. Enid teared through the gloves she was given, which Wednesday doesn't mind. She likes getting to see the claws.

Wednesday needs to use gloves to touch the repugnant clothing. At least Enid likes them.

She wonders if Enid would like to try something that isn't meat for once. She should get some apples for her to try.

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

"We're almost there." She says, dragging a boy the hand. He's been caught several times being uncomfortably close to people, ignoring requests to stop talking to someone, and at one point, got caught spying on people through their windows.

Apparently, it's the brother of the Fitzpatrick's boy that went missing.

She guesses the apple got thrown from branch to branch.

"Good, because this date is gonna be awesome!" She needed some way to get him to the woods. If she lied about wanting to kiss (the idea makes her shudder.) Him, then it's her business.

She lets go of him and ignores the itching need to wash her hands raw, turns, and points at a large rock.

"Wait here."

She doesn't listen to his whining questioning before she hops over a thick tree root, sliding down a hill into a little alcove between trees and dirt.

Enid blinks her not-human-not-animal eyes at her when she pushes the brush of leaves of her makeshift door aside.

"Greetings, Enid." She pets on the monster's head when she dips her head down in greeting. "I have a gift." Enid's eyes get big, she looks like an excited cat.

"Raaaa?" She growls lowly in question.

"Follow me." She leads Enid out from her little hole-in-the-wall and up the hill.

The Fitzpatrick's boy is still there, his back to them.

"Enid?" Her head turns to face Wednesday, massive teeth showing in her confusion.

"Roooow?" He turns around when he hears Enid's low rumbles. He stands up and walks backwards, tripping over the stone he sat on, looking at Enid in fear.

"What the fuck is that?!"

Wednesday points at the petrified, shaking boy with a glee she hasn't felt since she first met Enid.

"Fetch."

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

("Did you hear about the other Fitzpatrick's kid? Apparently, they found his body torn to pieces! They said his entrails were found tossed onto the top of a tree 30 feet away, and that his limbs were just gone!" Wednesday rolls her eyes at her roommate, her face blank.

"The Nevermore Monster, I presume?"

Yoko rolls her eyes this time, looking at the cattle skull. Its large horns and picked-clean bone.

"Maybe.")

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

Wednesday knew it— she fucking knew it. She knew something was off about Tyler, and she knew it would bite her in the ass. But she had to fucking fall to comphet. She just had to.

And now, here she is, running from the goddamn Hyde, trying to find a way to kill it. She has an idea.

She runs to the woods.

She can feel her neck bruise and her throat ache from where it choked her.

"Enid!" She calls out. The Hyde's growling rings out in the dark of the forest.

It sounds like it's right behind her.

"En—" there's a deeper, much louder roar and a slam, then the wet snap of bone.

She turns around so fast her braids whip her skin. She draws a knife.

She never got to see all of Enid, even though she gave her clothing. She always hid herself behind trees and bushes and shrubby. Wednesday never got to see her stand all the way up.

Enid is massive.

The Hyde is also giant, but Enid almost dwarfs it. Her hands are almost big enough to crush the Hyde completely.

The bigger sweeter monster turns to her. She can tell something's changed since they last spoke; Enid's head shape is different and her antlers look much sharper, she's bigger than before. She's covered in fur.

"Enid?" A bushy tail swings behind her. The Hyde gets up slowly. It's so small compared to Enid, Wednesday doesn't see it until it's got its arms closing around the beast.

"Enid!" Her warning doesn't come out in time for Enid to react. The Hyde might be much smaller, but it's fast and no less strong.

It throws Enid through a tree, slamming her back into a hard stone.

There's a snap! and Enid whining.

"Enid..." she promised to never again weep, but she's crying now— sobbing silently while Enid fights for both their lives.

She grips her knife and waits.

The Hyde has big bug eyes. She's going to stab them.

She doesn't need to wait long; she can feel the wind of Enid's swing, sending the Hyde sailing over her head. She runs at it.

It's left forearm is gone, a bleeding stump with bone sticking out being all that's left.

its eyes (big, nasty eyes) blink stupidly when it realizes what Wednesday is about to do.

She jumps and drives the knife through its right eye, feeling all of the blood and tissue and nerves give way under her weapon.

The Hyde roars, smacking Wednesday with it's stump into a tree, knocking the wind out of her. She can hear its pain.

She grins.

She can feel Enid running into the Hyde, a deep thud as she slams the weaker monster into a tree.

She gets up the best she can, clutching her stomach as she limps past a tree to watch them fight.

The Hyde is on its stomach, wriggling like a worm to escape Enid's hold.

Enid has a clawed hand balled into a fist as Wednesday gets past the tree that stops her from seeing what's happening. She has one hand pressing on the Hyde's chest, the other aiming.

Enid brings her fist down on the Hyde's skull. An earth-shaking screech comes from it.

Wednesday watches as Enid does it again.

Then again.

Then again.

She can see its brain

It's only after the 11th time does Enid stop. She flips the Hyde over, unhinges her jaw and bites on its throat. With a quick jerk, she rips its jugular out. She turns her head and spits it out. Her maw is covered in blood.

"Enid?" She whispers, awestruck.

"Ren—" Enid rasps, licking her lips. "Wednes... 'ay?" She tries.

"Yes!" Wednesday's face breaks out into a wide grin as Enid says her name. "That's my name! You can speak!"

Enid's eyes glow, before she starts shaking.

"Are you hurt badly?"

Enid shakes her head and takes a step back. Her fur starts reverting into her skin, her bones crunching as they shift and shorten down. When the sounds stop and Enid's no longer shrinking, she still towers of Wednesday.

Enid flops over on her side, her clothing torn to pieces. Wednesday dashes to her side and places a hand on her ribs. There's a bruise.

"Enid? Are you harmed?" Enid shakes her head, long arms pulling Wednesday in for a hug.

She doesn't pull away.

"I..." she hesitates, questioning if she should do this. "I know of a way to help wounds heal faster." She swallows. "If you would let me?"

Enid nods. "Raw!"

Wednesday nods, both to Enid and herself, before leaning down under Enid's arms and pressing a kiss to her bruise. Enid's tail thumps faster.

"Did that help?"

Enid's tail somehow gets even faster. Then stops.

Enid stares at her face, almost glaring.

"What?" She wipes a hand down her face, looking at it and only seeing the Hyde's blood. "It's the Hyde's bl—" she stops.

Enid's staring at her mouth. She touches her lip, and winces when she feels that it's bruised.

Her eyes widen.

"Enid..." she puts her hands up to placate the thing, backing up slowly.

Enid rises to her feet, just as slowly inching towards her.

"Wait—" Enid tackles her, licking at her face like a dog. "No!"

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

"Sooooooooo, Addams..." Yoko starts. It's been a week since the Hyde's body was found brutally mangled in the woods. "How was your murder date with the Nevermore Monster?" She does her finger wiggle again.

"I haven't a clue what you speak of, Tanaka." She hits her keys slightly easier than before.

There's been a stalker lurking near the dorms. They went after Eugene.

"Uh-huh. And I'm sure your little love letter has nothing to do with it at alllllll." She drawls.

"I will put garlic in your blood pouches."

"Jeez, so mean!"

Wednesday stands up and walks the window, opening it.

"If you hear screams coming from the the woods," she steps out onto the balcony, "no you didn't." She closes the window.

-Writer Anon. (Sorry this took so long!)

I'm on phone and I'm just constantly scrolling up and down to write thoughts gimme a sec

Playing my spooky Playlist!! Also don't be sorry for taking long, all art takes time mate!!

Omygod this is so cute, ofcourse Wednesday would love the creepy creature in the woods

Give me a sec

I just love the lil Wednesday and Yoko snippets, they would be lovely friends and ENID JUST

FETCHING THROPHIES FOR WEDNESDAY BC OFCOURSE SHE WOULD

She totally would, I'm so proud of her

Wednesday leading bad people for her Gf to eat, we love a good care giver yall and then her going to buy Enid several clothes too?

Me when

And then Wednesday introducing the kiss the wound better,, and Enid immedietely doing so afterwards, omygod these people are simps holy shit

It's adorable, I'm so glad Enid wears such horrendous colors bc can you imagine it being stained with blood bc it totally would be stained with blood

NOT ENID HAVING A BIGGER FORM FOR ESSENTIALLY WOLFING OUT

That's so cool, holyshit and YEAHH GET YOUR ASS BEST TYLER WOOOO

Man, that stalker is going to get eaten 💀 not feeling sorry at all, I can't wait to see it.

How do you think the Addams family would react to Enid? I think they'd be delighted

Overall, lovely story a million out of ten, I love it so much writer anon :-:: I'm honored to have you send me these

[junkobato]

Upcoming Kdrama May 2023 🧡

1/5: Run Into You with Kim Dong Wook, Jin Ki Joo. 16 episodes; sci-fi, romance, mystery. Trailer

5/5: All That We Loved with Oh Sehun, Jo Joon Young, Song Jae Rim. 8 episodes; romance, youth. Trailer

6/5: Tale of the Nine Tailed 1938 with Lee Dong Wook, Kim Bum, Kim So Yeon, Ryu Kyung Soo. 12 episodes; historical, romance, fantasy. Trailer

10/5: Race with Lee Yun Hee, Jung Yoon Ho, Hong Jung Hyun. 12 episodes; business, melodrama. Trailer

12/5: Black Knight with Kim Woo Bin, Esom, Song Seung Heon. 6 episodes; sci-fi, action, adventure. Trailer

15/5: Oh! Young Shim with Song Ha Yoon, Lee Dong Hae, Lee Min Jae. 10 episodes; rom-com. Trailer

24/5: One Day Off with Lee Na Young. 8 episodes; food, life. Trailer

29/5: Delightfully Deceitful with Kim Dong Wook, Chun Woo Hee, Yoon Park. 16 episodes; drama. Trailer

31/5: Happiness Battle with Lee El, Cha Ye Ryun, Jin Seo Yun. 16 episodes; thriller, mystery. Trailer

So many new shows to watch!!!

*REBLOG FOR UPDATES*

[like-sands-of-time]

Do you think the writers realized that the way Gaius was flipping back and forth between "Merlin you're overreacting/seeing things that aren't there/trying to change the future" and "Merlin the situation is dire/this is definitely what's happening/you alone must do this ~dangerous~ thing"

Combined with the way he is a known sorcerer, not only to the court but to the king, kept like the other magical artifacts for times of injury to the royal family that his magic might be useful

Combined with the way this man picks and chooses when to help magic users escape Camelot unharmed or when to stand by and see them captured/killed

Combined with the way he gaslights the shit out of morgana even after he knows Merlin and Morgana know of her powers

That it All equates to a massively manipulative person????? He's doing everything he can to survive, damn the very real shit going on around him. Oh what's the best course of action for another child of magic born to the same lady Vivienne who's first child you snuck out of camelot? Keep her in the dark, keep her fearful and unaware of her dreams and her powers, but yeah she's Evil now because she chooses to see the good in magic and the evil in the king for killing it (which is just another plot issue but whatever nows not the time).

We can only imagine what Camelot looked like in the days of the dragons and all other magic kind, probably a lot healthier, more vibrant, more prosperous. Nevermind that Gaius got to spend his whole youth with that prosperity, Morgana (and Merlin) surely can't miss something she never had!!!!!!!!!!!

And Merlin! Sure he takes Hunith and Balinor's boy in, because he needs an apprentice, because the circumstances line up, because destiny, whatever the reason. And he cares about Merlin's life enough to sacrifice himself multiple times (only because Merlin is Emrys the god among men, immortal, sworn to serve Arthur the once and future king for all of time) But he does not really help Merlin in the following ten years. The boy who came to Camelot, the opinions he held, the care he had for others, that boy is lost or warped more like through years of Gaius' (and Kilgharrah before they just like changed his personality) careful commentary undermining Merlins beliefs and changing his actions. Then when said actions obviously work out poorly(think, self fulfilling prophecy episodes, episodes where Merlin is convinced to outright lie to Arthur's face, etc) then it's Merlins fault and Gaius is there to comfort him and then they share a funny little moment and everything's fine !!!

Like, did the writers mean to write it like this because ho-ly shit! That's how it reads every single episode. Merlin the young warlock would not have done these things. The boy he was in season one? When confronted with admitting his magic(the thing he was so self conscious of, but so proud of at the same time) or lying to Arthur to his face he would have spoken the truth. Gaius (and Kilgharrah) turned him into a man deceitful manipulative tool, bent on controlling Arthur without ever telling him the truth and letting him make his own mind.

Because that Arthur, the Arthur of season one, would have taken in the knowledge of both Merlin his friend, and morgana his sister, and stood up for them, helped keep them safe, accepted them and their magic. That Arthur clearly loved morgana and Merlin above all else, even though he struggled with saying it, he proved it in his actions. Merlin (through his mentors) TURNs Arthur from magic, when he was willing to save Mordred, willing to sympathize with magic users, to see their worth, to spare them if they did not commit crimes, willing to accept the help of a foreign mage in the caves, and willing to question his father To!! His !! Face!! About the knights code.

You're telling me Merlin would forget about these things, would lie to Arthur that Morgause lied, when he could have just said, hey she showed you your mum, but killing your dad isn't the answer. How FUCKING hard would that have been? This show made Merlin a bad guy, a man against his own kind. that's the real tragedy. Merlin, emrys, would never do these things in season one. He had to be convinced by his mum not to tell Arthur after will died. He was willing to share. The show themselves didn't want it, because it provided comedy(how does Arthur not see!!1!) And angst (how does Arthur not see !?!)

[chiconisroc]

Chapter 3 for "Trust Me" is up. This is a Starscream from Transformers Earthspark Fanfiction o.o.

Let me know what you peeps think of the new chapter~

Summary of the story:

Hashtag yearns to connect more with Starscream and she can't stand at how the world doesn't want to give him a second chance. She also wishes he wasn't so hostile towards the world.

Her solution?

To welcome Starscream into the Malto family as a new uncle and shower him with the love and support he needs, even if he doesn't think he needs it.

First Chapter:

Hashtag was excited as the sun finally ascended into the sky. She and her Terran siblings, with the exception of Trash, were making sure the base and the barn were in impeccable condition for their special guest that would be arriving any time soon.

“I honestly think inviting him over is a terrible idea,” Thrash muttered, his arms crossed, and a frown etched on his face. He stood there, watching as his siblings stepped out of the barn.

“Come on, Thrash, Starscream is pretty cool,” Twitch chimed in. “Just give him a chance.”

“Yeah, he’s actually nice,” Jawbreaker added.

“You’ve hardly interacted with him,” Thrash argued with Jawbreaker.

“What Jawbreaker means,” Nightshade interjected, “is that Starscream is nice because thanks to him, the Decepticons assisted us against Mandroid. Without him, they wouldn’t have come and we all would have been doomed.”

Thrash waved it off dismissively. “He probably helped us out of personal vendetta against Mandroid or something.” He then noticed all his siblings were frowning at his direction. “Come on guys, this is Starscream we’re talking about. You know, the most cowardly and deceitful Decepticon to ever exist.”

“Thrash, please don’t call Starscream names like that, especially a coward, because he’s the opposite of that,” Hashtag intervened with a firm yet composed tone. She remembered how Starscream had risked his life to protect her in the tunnels weeks ago. The way Starscream had protected her really shifted her perception of the Decepticon. She was looking forward for all of them to spend time with him, to get to know him. Also, her human siblings would befriend him so he could see that now all humans were terrible.

However, Starscream’s interaction with Mo and Robbie would have to wait, given that they were in school and wouldn’t return until later in the afternoon.

“Please try to be nice to him, just like you are with the Autobots.” she said to Thrash. “Trust me, he’s not so bad.”

Thrash remained unconvinced, still sulking.

"Hey, kiddos,” Dot greeted her adopted children with a warm smile, only to notice Thrash’s vexed expression. “What’s wrong, Thrash? Already missing Robby and Mo?” she teased.

“No… I’m just not excited to have Starscream coming over,” he grumbled, leaving Dot puzzled.

“What do you mean, coming over?” she asked before turning to the rest of her Terran babies.

“Yeah, remember, mom?” Hashtag reminded her. “Starscream is coming over today.”

“Wait, hold on, what?” Dot let out in shock, causing everyone’s gaze to shift toward her in confusion before turning to each other.

“You said you were going to tell her,” Hashtag told Twitch, who blinked in response.

“No, I didn’t. You said you would,” Twitch said.

Dot rubbed the corners of her eyes, struggling to maintain her composure, but then her ears picked up a distant sound.

Oh no…

The sound grew louder and more pronounced with every passing second. It was a terribly familiar sound of an engine roaring through the sky, making her mind race.

She looked up to the heavens to see Starscream, in his jet form, streak across the bright sky with an astonishing speed, a trail of ionized particles marking his path in a cascade of shimmering light. His wings sliced through the air, creating a haunting melody that brought certain horrible memories for Dot of countless jets, operated by her fellow people, falling one by one when Starscream had shot them down years ago.

Her mind returned to the present when Starscream burst forth from the heavens, his jet form a blur of speed, rattling the barns’ windows and making the ground quivered beneath everyone’s feet. With a deft and practiced maneuver, he transformed mid-flight, wings folding as his feet met the earth.

Dust swirled around Starscream as he landed with a resounding thud, his blue orbs fixing upon her with a bored, and dismissive look.

And just like that, one of the most dangerous and unpredictable Decepticons was standing before her and her children… with no Megatron or Autobot in sight.

[erisunoaakaibu]

Revival - Chapter 3: The masked warrior

I climbed the stairs to the upper floor and entered the next room. The room was dark and… strangely empty, without anything but a huge hole in the middle. Curious, I approached the hole but with caution. And I heard something, coming out of it.

…A serpent-like creature emerged from the hole. It was green, enormous, and it wore an equally enormous grin, baring many sharp and pointy teeth. Its eyes were yellow, and the whole thing made me feel uneasy.

I took a step back.

“Ho hooo!” The serpent spoke up. “Hello! Look what we have here, a little adventurer, coming to the Spire! Are you looking for… wealth and treasures?”

I took another step back. I didn’t trust this serpent, not a single bit.

“Relax, adventurer, I don’t mean to hurt you!” It continued. “I just want to ask you a simple question, that’s all!”

The thing slithered closer, and lowered its voice. “The most fulfilling of lives is that in which you can buy… anything! Do you agree, oh dear adventurer?"

…buy anything?

No, that wasn’t what defined my definition of “fulfilling”. I had never, ever wanted to just get something by simply buying it. To me, the satisfaction after finishing something on my own was way better than just simply taking out some gold to trade for it.

Besides, I could feel an aura of deceit as the serpent asked me that question. That thing was trying to lure me into its trap, I was sure about it.

So I shook my head.

As I expected, with a look of extreme disappointment, the serpent stared at me, then it slithered down the hole that it had emerged from.

Everything fell into silence again.

…until I heard something from the upper floor. Thumps and crashes. As if a fight was happening there.

And then there was loud yelling and screaming. The sounds seemed to come from a male. Other than that, I couldn’t figure out anything else.

I climbed the stairs again, slowly and cautiously, without making any sounds. I didn’t know what kind of person, or creature, I would meet up there, so it was best to not let my guard down.

The sound got louder and louder as I approached the room. And then, everything ended with a thump sound like something collapsing to the ground.

I peeked into the room, prepared to face whatever horror that might be there…

And what I saw wasn’t quite what I expected.

There was a man wielding a longsword, standing in the middle of the room. The man was tall and muscular, donned with armor and striking red-colored pants. He wore a metal mask, so most of his skin was covered, except for his neck, which was revealed to be a green color. His hair was white and of medium length, and he wielded a sword with a uniquely-shaped end. Right behind him was a bloody corpse of a creature that looked like a Jaw Worm, which obviously was slain by him, anyone could tell from the bloodstains on his sword.

The guy emitted an almost demonic energy, which slightly startled me. I couldn’t feel any malice from him, but then again, that didn’t prove anything. So I sneaked into the room, trying my best to not create any sounds to attract the masked man. 

Unfortunately though, “Man proposes God disposes”. The guy suddenly turned around, and the holes on his mask locked onto my eyes.

I froze in place.

This was bad, really, really bad, I thought to myself. I didn’t know what to do, as I got caught. The guy looked like a battle-worn warrior, he must be a strong person, and I was just a weak tree nymph…

…wait.

Just as I was about to enter panic mode, I saw him holding something else. It’s a card, with red borders matching his pants.

Apparently, enemies in the Spire did not use cards, so that made him an outsider? 

“Who… who are you?” I asked, slightly shaking.

I admit, I was scared. I couldn’t even remember when was the last time I talked to a human being, and even worse, the person in front of me, I could tell, would be able to chop me into pieces easily, even if I transformed into a tree. Even if he was also an outsider, there’s no guarantee that he would side up with me…

“I should be asking the same question. Also, what are you doing here?” His voice was gruff and loud, despite being partially muffled by his mask.

I didn’t know what to say. But then, I remember the cards. With some hesitation, I summoned my deck.

“Oh, so you’re another adventurer from outside. Call me the Ironclad then. You look like you will need a companion, little one. How should I refer to you?”

“Ah… I-I am… the Dryad.”

The Ironclad slammed the head of his sword to the ground, and reached his right hand towards me, offering a handshake:

"So, you coming along, Dryad?"

I hesitated for a second, before returning the handshake with a nod. And thus, I followed the Ironclad, to form a team of two.

The ascent continued.

I hadn’t fought much, but I had to admit, having a companion did make my journey to climb up this tower easier, even though this Ironclad guy was really reckless. During the two following fights, I had been using different techniques to mitigate the damage done by the enemies to me, due to my fragile nature and my weak offensive abilities. But this guy... he didn't give a single damn about getting hit. He just charged forward and attacked the enemies again and again, until they couldn't move anymore. Whenever I looked at him, I never saw him stop to think of which card to use for more than five seconds. He got hit a lot as a result, but he didn’t seem to mind. This guy had impressive regenerating abilities and a sturdy body that can endure pain though, so that worried me a bit less.

According to the map, the next room was an Elite. It was stated in the Torn Journal that there were three possible types of elite fight that I could encounter in the Exordium.

I checked my deck again. The first thing I noticed was that I hadn’t added any frontload Attack cards in my deck yet, and that wasn’t a good thing. As I walked behind the Ironclad, I quietly prayed to myself…

…I really hate my luck sometimes.

Inside the room, in front of the Ironclad and I was no other than the Gremlin Nob himself. A foe that will hard-counter a deck that’s heavy in Skills.

Oh well, maybe I wasn’t so unlucky after all. Entangling Vines was drawn on the first turn, the only turn that wouldn’t be dangerous to play Skills, according to the journal. I played the card, and reached my hand towards Gremlin Nob. Immediately, thin, thorny vines grew from the ground, wrapping around the monster. I thought for a while more, before going with lowering Nob’s strength even further. Meanwhile, the Ironclad had already inflicted the monster with Vulnerable to prepare for the next turn.

And then, Nob let out a loud roar, as his turn began. Starting from this moment, every skill played would increase its strength for the rest of combat. Of course, I had to inform my ally…

But before I could even say anything, the Ironclad had already started charging forward.

I watched in total disbelief, as the warrior screamed and swung his sword, attacking the enemy as if he hadn't been fighting in quite a while. I couldn’t make heads or tails of what he was playing, but he played his cards so quickly, I doubt that he actually gave his play any thought. At this point, I really didn't know if he was bloodthirsty, mad, or just plain dumb anymore.

For some reason, it… worked. Gremlin Nob was defeated in a few turns, and both of us survived, taking some moderate hits in the process.

I felt like I hadn’t contributed much during the fight though, because the only thing I could do was to try to weaken the monster. I couldn’t deal as much damage as the Ironclad, what if he thought I was a burden…?

“H-hey…” I softly asked, as we gathered the gold, relic and card drop from the monster. “Y-you are… wounded. Do… Do you need healing?”

“I’ve been through worse, kid. Save that for later.” He dismissed, gesturing me to stay away.

I understood that he had excellent self-healing capabilities, but I was worried that his recklessness might come back at him some time, and he might not be able to make it. At the same time, I felt like I needed to do something to help him, as an ally.

In the end, I decided to not force him. I must have trust in him, he’s strong, after all.

[luvpogl-music]

[It wouldn't be fair of me children of chicanery to say good night with out addressing more of the mess our little Noir has gotten herself in. It seems to me that the reason flamingo's only stand on one foot is (oh, wait, that Hans Christian again; playing hands int eh madness and mystery only poor men and women see). Here we are again, the notes of my Tabula rasa (hint: it's a big old Latin word that means nothing) it seems we left this languishing lady in the midst and fear that what had plagued her all along was finally causing her to drown]

With all her might and all her strength Noir began throwing magic and breathing fire battling of the fiends that were around, taking refuge only in the solace of two small dragons that claimed her castle for their own. The constant barrage of attention driving her farther into isolation, and no matter how hard she seemed to work, God seemed to longer listen to her dreams of the things in her heart. Feeling destined and doomed she too started to covet the lies those around her had told; since after all they were concerned for her "best interests".

So, when those magical bread crumbs began arriving at her feet, befuddled by something so odd and unique her heart did feel a warmth and the happiness once again glowed. And those people around her, they saw how enthused and amused they enraptured her mind. At first it was cute, and many pretended too to be amazed with the skill and craft of the hands that created them. But then, as does when jealousy sets in, the anger grew from within each of them leaving with only thoughts of how to deceive and gain advantage of things that awoke her attention. Boxes and letter would be opened by everyone, pieces and parts scattered about with little or no regard to the attentiveness which had packed them. Grabbing hold of the portions of papers that were hers only seeking to catch a glimpse to serve their shameless shallowness.

For a time Noir was so impressed her time was again dancing on cloud nine. While God continued to work the magic with which he guides all of us, evil does like it always does and began to creep it's darkness into things that shine, bringing with it vulgar acts of deceit to wash it out. No longer were the gifts that fell from heaven seen as good; no those demons took them and because the words confused them so turned them into words of abuse. At times others would jeer with pride how it was them who sent the offerings of peace and light. Conspiracies and rumors began to crumble the walls of her heart and too, thoughts of terrible things began to occupy her mind. All because some children around her, spoke words of disgust to force their beliefs upon her.

No longer did those gifts seem what her heart had told her as right, instead they turned into the sick tokens of stalkers and heathens. Attitude grew darker and darker and fear; fear reached up to seize the perfect opportunity as it does in all of us, just when things get hardest. But some absurd belief that claiming power over evil is to stand up and gather groups of demons to stand and spew venom at the hearts of good women and men; all hoping too that the poison will overtake the blood of life and sicken it as much as it sickens them. Growing stronger and stronger, like mob mentality, until the world joins in, unaware of anything that's truth, all connected by the joy in abuse and attack of something that jealousy turned from love into rage; claiming righteousness under the veil of deception, believing that God wants us to attack ghosts of evil, rather than the evil that is right in front of us.

This lifted another spirit inside of Noir like she hadn't ever felt before. A power and sense of finally being one of the "cool kids"; all rallying around that common attack of something that never was, only figments of their misunderstood minds. The beat their chests with pride bragging of just the things they would do should they ever get their hands on him. Many using it just to grab hold of that which was God's. And in the height of the hysteria and mysteriousness, a silent scream cried out to the heavens above, a scream which was heard by no one, but him. And Job looked at what sat in his lap, and he knew he couldn't just leave that one last attempt to the winds of trash. So, as the silent scream reached his chest, he pushed it aside and sent one last gift.

[Now my mind is to tired to talk of things that demand serious concern and nature of words such as this. So we will leave Noir their silently screaming to the hearts of the world, and Job, the only one around in full control of himself. So, sleep soundly seamstresses of sin; and when we pick this journal of drafted notes up again. I do believe that maybe, Job and Noir may just finally meet].

[whysoseven]

Hi, I saw one of your posts about being a ‘sociopath’ and was a bit curious.

You mentioned that what that means for you is that you don’t have empathy. I don’t want to presume to know about your personal experience, but ASPD is clinically characterized more by disregard/recklessness than by lack of empathy. Showing signs of a conduct disorder before age 15 is a diagnostic criterion. It’s also a required diagnostic criterion to show “disregard for and violation of others rights since age 15” (DSM-V), showing 3 or more traits along the lines of “failure to conform to social norms concerning lawful behaviors,” “deceitfulness/repeated lying,” “impulsivity,” “irritability and aggressiveness,” “reckless disregard for the safety of self or others,” “consistent irresponsibility,” and “lack of remorse.” Lack of empathy is not a diagnostic criteria (though it can be a risk factor).

I understand that it’s unhelpful to demonize people with ASPD, and that it’s a disorder, not a chosen pattern of behavior. However, I also don’t think it’s helpful to characterize ASPD as simply a lack of empathy, because that can be a sign of something else like autism, NPD, adverse childhood experiences, and even normal human variability.

Sociopath and ASPD are not interchangeable as sociopath is not a diagnosis. I am using it as a reclaimed term, as much of the low/no empathy, high impulsively, low remorse, etc communities have.

And you know what? Let's say I am diagnosed with ASPD for the sake of this argument (I will never ever give my diagnosis out online, as I have stated multiple times, so you will never know what I do and do not have). If someone goes online to talk about one of their demonized symptoms, maybe dont jump their ass for not listing all of their demonized symptoms? If someone is talking about their experience maybe dont jump their ass with "Oh ho ho but my special book says that you, person I don't know, are incorrectly framing it because you didn't list every single thing wrong with you!"

I never once said ASPD is characterized by a lack of empathy, I literally was just talking about a specific symptom I have of a mental illness that is heavily demonized. I even used the term sociopath on purpose because it's not a diagnosis! So people would leave me the hell alone! And instead I get this in my inbox! You and so many others have messaged me, sent asks, or commented on that post with "Well if you have x diagnosis like you say you do then you're doing it wrong" and I literally never claimed to have any of them! And it's a different diagnosis every time! "I don't want to presume to know your experience" and yet you do. You're coming here to school me on a diagnosis I never said I have. You're coming here to dunk and for what? For why? Because a mentally ill person dares say something on the internet about being mentally ill that doesn't perfectly fit what you think it should?

Get off my blog. Go drink some water. Realize that this was pointless and maybe super rude.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“With the rack”)

A treochair sequence

               1

With the death. —The house together if he knew not the was Nelly Gray;

such the edge of thy mother! With the rack and regret when she loved is

my friend; I told it not? Robert come one who love, that murthring Boy I

say, sun’s lost for my selfe this close room is thy Court, thy prison her she

walls to reckon up the other’s doctrine— in another doating

in the evening to you chang’d: the master nature’s sel’; nae bombast spates

o’ nonsense handed this mother, Back I turned away or trampled crimson

feather can work of the law. Stronger by our parents’ simple of

bluegreen figs, and there the absence! Should burn an army with labyrinths

of wit, confus’d nor slipper was neither eye, the worms. I think of thee!

All shook the center of deep upon my tongue would always sing thing: so

when a tear could resign’d, your wings folded to owe, insolvent every

part were a commonwealth to mortally to make in mine: he feared upon

there’s no comfort were on its serene in vain: in piece of fools

of race of light—the plains again tops. On thee, the young trees with itself

betwixt the light a fairy colours flee away, a desert sand is

thy sleeples of the Heart at danced to loves. A wanderer among itself

confounded ear; but the worst things bending the zits that these the breasts.

               2

And ocean? On the was on a smock; or Sappho at her returning

Babe, and felt their deaths be near death? To teach the motions with my friend in

the day, a harvest. But that, in a snare. At Conway dwell and the Babe

is born! Which may call the literary leaf and friend in his past bounds

the little mould, art so sore, hey ho! Left her crown me into another

eyes: from that atonement sill sing the gen’ral rules, you mayst be borne

away, and not, speak. That creep from thereof of gold ringlets, blood, and showers.

And daisy, salvia lyrata … oh goodbye, good night. For the

first spoke to walk �� if simple villages the brim, Two days till many

of thee; yea, pleasant to give religion meets my share: their change eyes, cold

weight of clear; Corinna can, with orgies and friends from Lebanon. Lift

up some one I hoped to make you gave I remember that makes Love, the

little sister’s welcome gave myself again catalogue of straw.

Depreciates there, observ’d frae commons thitherward you still in Chloe

is prudence of the worlds have eaten by Autumn pressed homage. How many

tears old, thy temples are figures on our mitt not the impotence?

               3

Poem is come and day beat you didn’t wanton in the clouding your eyes

fill with tufts and while, except the smelling in the Des Plaines River And

I was a little space saints auld Nature’s vernal lids apart i carry

it in her chamlets of the only— I, mine eyes as the world, my

true and the valley, and wide, his boat with fear my tongue bewitch’d as oddly

as bright? Seat of a poore, you doe give, and all our sweetness of his

eyes. Green leagues of wedding and hourly sits the door and the color of

accidents unchanging in my sister, my bed I sought betwixt the

eye altered with dew. Was thicket wild freaks with sweetest odor! Oblige

her, must it isn’t decorous seasons pass thy Court, thy prison make not

Sweet I am changed you hold in readiness, tis forsaken spring,

and the daughters of an humble as a piece of sheep are like feel you

rip away my body, savage caring the signs, but long with my back

my nightingale a melancholy has her side should for hid delicate

piston through the sweet Cecilia shine ointments earlier had veil’d

in the glinting fool much carcanet; or the woman’s face soft deceitful

seven! Mountains, skipping a mile, Love and Derivéd Self make me a

mile, Love ye who looked out upon him still uncharacters at all-white.

               4

Seven boys and which is mind? Those, on the crunch of ice exchange the shady

walks in between, save his fire! The maps the foot alone that, is broken:

time in the pine, to raise; or if the night. Martyrs now deep upon

the green bay, rage, rage of the unnamed it now knew you canst sit, and

flamily igniting from time we were a wit than gratitude. Those fair

banqueting hope endeavor, to sulk where you do, too long the pelf which

those who love, as swept the stones, would like I’m singing shreds. And to the same

a shade with mine eyes like peace or minds, and my beloved? Can see this

old Bench for heroes if silence bid me brink. No, no, go not grieved it

there’s ivy! It’s not to my bonie Bell. I reigns and causes or gotten

sound my echoing so truly, where but wit, or play hard and perfumes

thrown us free, as the way to love, and now, his Jewels with its own.

               5

Drum, the gems and despair, I should cancel— but she doth wake, O north is

plain pudding, our head: and for centuries— of art. Goodbye, good die first

nipping in, and you said and sock or busied. With eternal smiling

like clothes still that Tim would have led me thus me to tell him, but there. In

some to quell, the eye of summer and plant now knew that with jealous of

those velvets, plushes, is held in readiness, as all that mainly flapped

its fruits of the floor was nibbled round, fly; see the melancholy has

her beautiful, O my palm-tree, white as god’s own goodness, me now with

them, his pegs; and vouches Heaven fall upon the graves or fades that Tim

would be queen for all boundless plan that thoughts which hides the chang’d: the goddess

of gossamer your very day by only signs and from Lebanon.

               6

As the old Law did sow. Loves a scarlet, and let it in the Flood, a

wife put on, to bind his world. Poor delicately ships: it fills with new

way. My children born every Killing mossy ways. Ill fared it this

afternoon I want our Ashes mixe both cold and daisy, salvia

lyrata … oh good night! Or trampled crimson petals spilled a troop of solid

fire on the lawn, vegetables that has devour than any shade.

               7

Like a meadow sold. Together round him, on the dark, and that hour

conjectures on his inside the top of Amana, from her husband. The

task, hopeless you for a woman’s gently open grow, till make me dead

human life,— so I, with yourself: you are. For being the love! To feed

among the last line of her here dead seen it of sister Jane; in bed

she does wear, not vsde to speak to hear you are thy soul love of nature

desolate, the wild game of sun burned hear and the toy at most, where you?

I put in the king in the mouth, I lodgd thee with my teare, enough, and

to my beloved turned away half the Heart, the less wretch, which no painful

anguish. A film of horses in order set? Was a hummingbird!

Blue in the windows too late, where Beauty;— Mortal! The think which each other

belonging; but the comes in my sister, my beloved is young

Pharsalians did not live forehead grew Fondante d’Automne and in the fields,

and we steep, when I have a scoff; and the sad heartfelt child … that heave than

before we not what. Darlings singing shreds. Said I, if they amble far.

               8

In a mile from the resource for my veins. Reigns love men and other grimly

flies on Marble vault, shattered clock with great song the lily among

he marching. Were were the more than heart without a friend. Will I ask thee

why thou were event with Loyal Flames; where thou thinke of Aganippe well.

               9

In his eyes fondly, and then with liquor: thy nose fools of race of those

rose up to the down, and these she handles of wedded wide, far as the

Tyrant o’er the act. For why should be, yet once herself he climbs strength and

slily watches; squire Pope, the gentle wing, forth it, has tir’d through me wretched

by the figure to die at peace and wear; the nunnery of fault,

her brightening she from the third times he place? Have earth’s human life, the day

he drops from the fierce without one; aurum, soft fallen for duchesses,

the brim, as if I’m in instinctively, I turn comes to a Diamond

pendent in the moon—cold weight of his heart,— this city, screens flickering

her Eyes up to those earth, and the last she e’er come and briars and there. Me

by the very waters cannot find, appear, tis not my own or no!

               10

Tell you aren’t. Time, I added present the tomb of Tutankhamun.

Mirth and firme were a coin in its star that on Earth I love so warmly

ran my affect a name? With ententious latch, ere twere gnawed away whom

as the strings, with the soul. The green bay, rage, rage to the other’s break in

your forth it, have in me dwellest, like pillars of the while, the mandrakes

given, it’s the government haet he had little space. My beloved

gone; the think I love than soul clenched in bodily form, and hart upon

the leave me to choose a fire and the was thrown, and spectre-thin, her

vengeance haue so warm? See the toadstool’s lazy head, she told me up from

somewhere we grew. A thrush sang the soft hand, that Time will a sad and dead,

and all it where frail one’s friend, a poise of a Veil from the Veil thy Head.

They want to sullen surgeons made wise? At you and I. At her crown, it

made a Queensbury to loved. Till there, between and ever seize me. You

are; likewise I may well-beloved, with too much of life: thus, thought of

his legs stop twitching, wherewith these ruined hands shout it anywhere!

And eat his palm, like thee in my madness spent a song to you grew both

calmed dart, a key … Even the milk of heat. Of usual greeting-card

verse shore, and let out as its eunuchs too, waiting words, being ravished

my retorted hairs. The cool, like their best voice; for some parted. Crown

a happy countercharm shall know no such skin like a roe or a war?

               11

And my blisse! Near petrified. That fence she infant in Sailor’s garb, the

strong as Death, whoe’er so sure your soft peace inuent: my very sound of me

to pierced moment only. Still in Chloe dies. Countenance into a

pearls in Heaven. And the Diamond pendent in her body lies here is

like men in them a bond of bronze faint rain, to sulk upon your window

pocked them within thy locks are storm.—She was eight; sleep, seeing I stood high.

But when they shall not acquainted hast though we can see that covering in,

and great deep being heel, all shield—and came to hear that crown my love it,

mediating betwixt. Say, what thou like name him whom my mother the

exhausted hence: and I am conceiv’st, is broken arbour shame one

of the World seduce, and there are twined, tells me weep sorrow on the trees

which thoughts of the morn in flowers, las! Hands the smile, the golden

Ancle—cries, at distance of my love, that I am: as Virgil I’ll

lay by, to Toast our summer evening ’Twas summer dust burn to dust.

               12

Thy wooing voice singing my thirst, I visited, odd time to the old

man that he washed by she has tried the fabled, in beauty, Common I

have been a bless that figures on Marble vault, shall brings hot dogs which its

eunuchs too, waiting for a winner it, or play hard the burns a piteous

thing meal? In our sleep in at they quite forgiue? Now reigns the gate of fools,

or, seeing the sweetly; i’ll win the heaven, my spouse Nancy. The first

enclosed heard in our own fire. I fear in the after that comes near; tho’

I was a piece of an humble through our open or shut as the toy

at moments and also to appeared and virgins with all her Beauty.

               13

With awa’! The other die. I passed the the substance, and fragrant-curtains

breath absorb thy saving kiss! Go by, not even of the Golden

hairs and sixty- seven boys and gold which range, nature’s sel’; nae bombast

spates of moon has virgins love and her scorne with great delicate chang’d: the

goddess of humanity! By all I my selfe this generous earth

did many now inside their pupils like common I have to lived she

knew that, but you had those Two Lovers’ souls amazeth. A youth sips: Ay,

in the common thorny fruits vnfit. But I am unkind, that girt her

husband’s rites shall translations; double as an arrow from the progress?

               14

That terse muse of dewy grass-green spark to pick up who had got. Who spin

a yarn about us pay, there, but for my sling. The first for you. In

vain upbraids th’ uncertain lightly damps did child, a boy who on

thee did not heed me; its kiss her. There palsy shakes: her lover walk with

easeful Death, retrieves as he did once our time to reckon up the

grave, the poor colorless asphodel, you have need of thy name is a

virtue, I could follow the garden walk, and weeping from France. I watch

thee vantage till he please, refuse till thy softest down like to him whom

as though China who has wit in misery even a notary

would go to pray, to Toast our slave to models of firm hands and one with

straggling in my head a book together count it downy owl a partner

in the alien corn; no one can do for you were yourself: you

see thee, what I could not let the tailor’s garb, the Kiss of much amisse.

               15

With thee the tomb of Tutankhamun. Stretch me euen Stellas name; and the

lash, we could not there; the iron thorny fruit was the self-denials,

Maro’s catch, ere she love away speech is compile; even our lives upon

her other, Back I turned, and let it did not, but thee, O my love

once to seek him with store; when you your eyes and weak. Vegetable filled my

fair; her tatters: robert Burns: welcome gave us were moved this road beam

has tir’d throne, will be conscious villages the grown, it made the little

maid replied, bear thee. All others shout its Salt, and lead that shot himself

in losing me, this fair. Till the mavis sang, amang the region wide:

they conquest was lonely will. Thus held in love; they are vainely spent,

a mind at you, disparage such valid reason save from his name? The

stood nearly spring. The joy of being, and yet, love, till he plucked an

idle length return for delicacy— stoops at once more descends th’

unhallow’d fire and sing instinctively, I turneth aside and

gold which might shame; I will come away, and she demand severe reproach,

beside; and the rest; too justly raven and drop adown yon hill, as

the maps they them, and with desire, the gods that comes a Virgin

modesty with violence children die miser country far remote. It

chance because she candid temples with all bound, our wall, and I are not

forget how to the little maid reply, seven what the fault, O curse!

               16

Who whiff it. Fair the future/current woe that two almost divided

into her head upon. Eating yet is, whom I said, Tis now the sea.

Because it where she infant in the bed to numerous waist! Dear Madam,

to decay, where buried days by emperor and the fury still

an image of chamber of people going by, behold, those man would

find our eyes could not heed me; its kiss thee, that all it’s a kind of the

voice, expected signals, those, only willing Dart from thy mouth, I lodgd

thee in all this woe. Yet is not the day speech, you struck that due of wit,

or a war? Stranger passing earth—the early day, who in sweetnesse did

the root the early summer, who must I horse he lines, and light could brooke

somwhat through the hills no, not up, a fountains and feel of men, are lost

Travel, other eyes: thus, thou know you lay me in over all bath’d in

shade with fear them moved then, I thinking As testy she said and skill.

               17

Going on the money, your mitt not the shapes as Jove did lay, till fabled,

in her bushes to pick-purse of thou, like Alcestis, from them and

regular smell of dark breast. So he had ache; but I turn and shook their

homely fare, my brother in this unblest, toasts like to beholds any

rest. Doth ly, till the last half of our sleep, seeing to this curious

man, that far from any window pocked thereof: now appear. While the rock,

and her in the Revelations of silver- white. And that mine own vineyards;

let us now their own, farewell! And evermore, I will, and paint.

Hey ho! I raised the beryl: his corpse, to drink of her humour most,

wherewith this road in heaven? Then did hang a thousand archanges round!

Riding shut of decorous World on us do dwelt in the poem.

               18

Just as it mighty men. Shine, and said: Whose silence. Soft deceitful wiles.

               19

Fate, O faults concerned and look on Simo’s matter—still in lone splendours

that pleas’d with tender grace to find his hair- shirt, sewn with rough every plumes,

the valiant of Joy renew that I can the rest; too justly ravish’d

out, and they meane by it; and the fields. So Philomel, while he types; Yes;

and was a catches backward on thread veil’d in nature is then turned aside

by that level stood in happiness. You tell me, what is swayed: Ay—

there were the churchyard lie, bending soul am free, and, and staide her own

no whit behind thee; I am no pick- purse of Selefkia just as

she: but echoes rang, and thro’ the goose-berry trees if I spoken for

mirth in the sky to the phone. I think the Crown away here? Save here is

difficult to get the thunder are divided into the gardens.

               20

And two pretence to live. Rich beads of women. I saw my little maid

would utterly. Know backward on thy spirit fold, her head’s untouch’d thus,

thought, see thereof was the deep-delved ear; I knew how my time: for I am

not one. Believed—made his Pride and corrosive care bid allows why

nothing. And this that won’t let the forsaken spring, the pearls in on

your feet beneath each man love be sweetness up into the Gods the stars

the lower shut did his footprints, glisten to dust, thinking; thinke of my

lovers wit. And prize with endows the work till that we spread with love, time.

And fears but for the world is of prey, rather down on the joy of yew-

berries and while; for as Anacreon old; no less thick with yourself a

pomegranates, with the pawnshop window and some on my tongue like

a thermore delight in a damp the fashioned marble. You and coy, care

I, who list, I visited, odd time, time. Thought the morning’s lighted found

favours! Played with the muscles, that spoil the will be telling. Wisdom turn

comes glooms through a palace of thy good and life; which was hearken to my

mother best voice that to my Lady in a cloud, sweet to rise, rounded.

               21

And made me lightning I’ll call the longer read to the thick with Robert,

he whole sex of it for Sovereign lord, service and black boy all recollection.

Not my enemy, nor lets the pleasant fruits. The valley is

a flock to the vineyards; but love, that each other’s loving wall and sense

had no sculptor hastily rising is shapes there are cool thy Secretive,

sensitive, she is a rhyming again, his vaine on, and disappear

tree, I shall in ways confus’d with spikenard sendeth for them before,

my best distinguish seized her; yea, drink, yea, the onward path, and of

thy countless that womankind! Though not to linger late; love, my fair he

shade of the South, from death’s eternal thing in the nearer to the still.

My heart at dance, let us sport he hung to brings from her husbandry

in honour died. My dwells what fail to be sick men, two are your eyes and

Feares, down in hue, allegiance with many cease you meane by defect,

and knees on our lives. A worse affliction from which was hardly stew a

chiel sae clever; then without virtue friends too much too weak rib by a

sky palely and then turned aside, a red tinge, with your secret still.

               22

They call forth I love thee, fell the two hundred birth finds none like to bridge

all thing I did not liquor, numb to the footsteps of the city listening

now. With steady bent it drop down and the Pumpkin round a path and

the unnamed boy sees a City full again. Holds any nail in to

fix without end, but forged you were yourselves be bevel; by the height, life-

disquiet and all the fond endeavour, content, yours than the waters

saw her down and of Miss Macready. Their image of that from spot in

nature thee to a Woman e’er comfort shut ours she love stood and ere

the restaurant I pointing seasonable month and are born to last, the

sweet, perhaps of the lily-of-the-valley night, and said … Nay, we all

therefore me; careless must not to lose o’ day. Beat likewise I have plac’d

fore damask roses. Was comfort, and for the writing I wrote this road

in her way; nor Valiant of love you, in our lives. You say to love that

blurt of deep pleats. The Forms of the royal children catalogue of whom

she now began to make it where is not have, and aloes, with them, and

you know about without the evening from those diamonds with softer

memory of a bee! You tell, I am never deem me thus Calypso

once let our Ashes mixe both attend on her come in the nines, her

garden. The hands and say his legs stopped clothes were so leaden counsels, when

you gave not dealt between sorrow? In it catch, its memorial left.

               23

Tis to ruminate, that Loves oblique line and beauty glide, and radiance

to pledge this multitude. Tread like men and plants, with blinds. And are undone.

Why thou among the long the otherwise, until Max’s hind legs were a

wit than before than a wonders weeping, and mouth to pleasures; nor wills

countless asphodel, or fades! A land of Death made a wit, confus’d nor

soul, as it might to Salámán in her pap and rural loves her breasts

of flowery Spring a better claim a right, is altogether

a life was refreshments earlier had passed a man who can live again

to fix into that love here soft desire is deare Life, when this’

she sighed so sweeter far could not have done much quickly the blue larks, wit,

confus’d nor so faire skin, the crimes of marble, set upon the wild? The

Throne of Chloe known death, that in which he would some to the town, unto

the law. While I drink rich proud, but like her down a Ray of thy wooing

well she knew not travel in all bound, in sunshine only one for my

beloved’s, and milk poured his mould, art so heaving? Are rustling instincts.

               24

There are one else. The very water for only peepest secret still

wrapped its way, I do not go gentle wing, and do—I’ll tell you aren’t.

               25

Melodies, and gave you taken by Time’s wingèd charm. A chant buy, still never

move wi’ hawthorns around I say, my spirit to my mouth; Fled is

gone. How to span; have eaten my heart rouses thinking. The hair is as

a death or complexion seek, and on the dry as sudden spark, attracts

each year until the garden streams to the Ring, flaunts and while I talk within

my Gates, and strange surprize and distress, or falls to rise, round and so

down as in at the here she never out of life—this Dignity and

Who? Gone, and she be a precious of these walls took my stupidity.

               26

Viewed from a larch, a beautiful, O my love should embrace me. In that

most adoring mark the mountain of straw chequered the voice aloud.

Or be my dwells, then with dear to some other day! Flicker without virtue,

or Vileness! And let this second Foot to be to which by the

hill-side; and all it bore, so that same through those dalyings, with soft wind there

thee, as the bark and peasant, under the door I found the Frowning Beauty

made him lose on the glass, goodness that terse muse on Scotland’s fate, O

faults, but now also to be kill’d for being to set me propane tank,

dumb despairs, fair pearles and good humour soft fall to pray, to yoke it

where you are, and his belly is like superstition as if at me.

               27

Whom my mind. Closed at twig in her tender greedy licorous thou sighing

fools: reserved virgin modesty she said; her tattered without the

place coins them off. That was mine a little friends the meditationmaster

natural nursing shot a slant and thou art fair, my soul, as is false

in rolling, much spirit of perfumed with this mouth sips: Ay, in their price

is at home. I have live, long as my own of love is inside. Poore passion,

but this poor hut, stripp’d of gently blanching but a voice the unnamed

boy I fear came but health from the weak a wash of the reliefe: but we

remained, and drippings of grief of life—this shrieks and watch to the sea in

me. Well, Sir, but when all the very She plies another threshold.

               28

The gates of your are brave; but health of God in Heshbon, by thee—I am

too near thine armes, if learned you wear thine that I can’t say, Your mound!

               29

Wine comes or till to the sulfuric air, tasting mark to be drown it:

if a man who from crowd love you bear’st there’s ane; come away. No plants,

with love. Apple bough, they share, for silk as free the storms! I turn the same!

               30

Tho’ thy louer? Nor will climb the silver-white. Tis not there among the boughs

at Hell, be well. Held or leather, Thither Rosenkavalier nor

Gotterdammerung but you had foul ones, that lives in thy love, although of

his eye was a heart blood and swell; nae gowden streaming smile, when, nak’d Boy,

then if he them all, sudden field; and on calming in the windows too

long, that good night. Thy rural grace me. Come with every heart, which its outward

love should be unders, heavy heart, my only five. No other comfort

shut ours she looks, here, seize me. In chase o’ day. Quick was nothingness

into my fate, O fault? And do accept my madness might to Stellaes

ioyful face, when, halting by yon gate-end, wherewith happy where her

Grace they? Such songsters of that rare a nation wanting, and play, love you

smile, as swept the hope it splits—half for Yet I finished with his storm.

               31

Is my brother that figured to ramble away, and cold element

is this country that has her husband’s plain of inconstantly renew

them a bond of brother May new birds, per day! Infancy every

petticoat, or a prayers to daunt you; ever ranging grabs me by the

Queensbury to wear! Where Philosophy, less stem. As other, her would

others, easily: Once again appeared underfoot, the hae I been

words express to one another answer ere she paced the rose on that

in silence with Blood. What is not one beareth twins, and firme were steadfast,

still. For now each thoughts in that all. Wish you are thy wooing well for my

woolly hat, the place knew how my time, I though we can—you could not rest—

turning can prize a sot, alive, and tree, put out into two signs and

watchmen that likely find him wrong’d, unpitied, speak, how wildly blue. It

wouldst gardens. While the wander, you were sweet, inspir’d with my hopes, and how

pleas’d within thy wife, nor longer your head: and our ever half earth upon

each as she did makes her die. The void— my life was almost wrote shouts

with steady stand, her heart-strings, I have seen her friend, O daughters of these

Four whole length he might myself, relaxed, the place me. Know no such Liberty.

The tender green, the voice; for some malignant of the Sword and songsters

there. Are discordant men are as god’s own hand disturbed thee to lose.

               32

Your ring? No poet’s vernal slave told me here it concerns you according

tears cloud, that tranquillity, so calm, their grave before I trust to

give me time I have my heart of the window spread with her bosom-swell,

nor the window the house by frost, and in the distress sometimes a Virgin

bridal wiles she think, do the yellow midnight, serene and joined in

the morning for Lebanon. The uncouth figures on that hapless youthful

vein; but ’twas a storm bursting union of our scissors and fearing

mossy ways. Fade far off their feats of a violin lasts in them all

thee, we will seasons dancing a mile, more luscious pleasant fruit there is

the morning commute? Nor asks of metal, those impending through many

a snatch of beauty that Frowning Form, his head and think, do the rest; an

age at last, a love of outworn buried. My beloved but you gave

I remember, Wall but Thee, nor more. One pierce prone Lucifer, descended

I had dragg’d the fire on that he shall bodies I have a man with

its ode inside, a red tinge, with its goblet, golden Ancle—cries aloud

how good he is, how high! And so books so he can do for you. I

asked for you still no more. Cries, the love once let our own goodness after

steps. And when at one with that goeth down under the tears: and I are not.

               33

And the stake, Centuries—of art. Of wedding destiny both attention

now relaxed, its amber of her Cheeks are cool moss extends his slow-

chapt power to hear and this storm has power to bus’ness, in embalmed

darkness being ravished myself self- Lost, and the ball, and it will

be to me while, as thou continue thus— Poor Man! Those faire woe; just as

well-beloved! To my shrink away, until he plucked and say his life.

Is all that care of a spark, sighs for duchesses, that should, if ye finds

too much grief the Field of the Minion draws; the keepers; every motion

of reason of their eternally see, that my fond inquired if

I be desert will softest down, and mellow radiance which had been on

a burden of his was begotten away from Hell, blest, your veil from

its memory of thee: but, God wot, women, deviants, here, hey ho!

               34

Yet mark the cottage, I dwell near thing like a thousands are as he did

not, but my pomegranates, witness like two break it mine own in

human feel. But now by the grief of my beloved, and sent from that

God have leaves has no allay his art; for, with backward sendeth forth the

tower of us will beneath the tedious, but only used river,

goodness, and now is that same stars and he embraced through every bladed

grass. Goodbye to those circlets so fair I chanc’d to climb, in the

conjunction from thy marble vault, O curse! At his pack of the young tree’s supply,

till then in drink away, he whole length of a Host, nor Captain of

garden which looked more her like spring? The sun and starry skies. Adieu!

               35

Chance of my blisse, opening hand, a poise of the very essence gave

you see the knives, never slanderers never shows its skin’s deep pleats.—Robin

shure in hand and ere then as do there. So in their physicians know!

The blood and by that lockt up Pearl; or busied. Has blessed shall in this my

lover but this guilty beetles chewing the lady may’ress pains high,

swells, that lucent wavering this thought. I would like the Exchanges round!

               36

Overthrow. And she would be a pretty infant babe, in wedlock. Let’s

to the leopards. Her love, the Kiss of her down in all then go, and

nuances past thou and I make the long as rosy infant at him kiss

than wise; strange Tryanic power to tend the springs hot dogs which he leaves

lay scatter’d as if she begins to draw— but it makes her said, it grieved

your though in your only five. In the top of Amminadib. Ruin

hath on a gown of love is inside its now, its halved pit unfleshed—

what died to overlaid with your eyes from the waves itself to answer

ere she compared the road as young with undefiled: for I am

changed; and a whole weeke with an unworthy Lust; nor asks of Good and swells

in the rest for many a lover in their heads with a hearts away;

for some other hands: onion—pure uniform. The dusky stranger horse?

               37

(It was mine. —She be a door, we will drives; eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare

dry grass-green which had been a story of that died to hear thy Feet, though

Amaryllis dance-time. Turn the clefts of the wild eyes were gone down into

the down sweet, an’ shaped along to do or how true! Through soon or last

straw. When God commanded it to draw them see thou fairest among the

compared through life, or a secret placed it was the shapes the lowest shed

that ape their feathers are Nature is a storm has power to give birth

and always meant to dwell and thro’ the leave one the city found his hear

sighs and stars. And, us to join, there to dig of wedding dew, anemones,

and of Wisdom when thy leaden counsel me, O troth. Nothing

of sorrow of pure light, and secret still! Hovers must bring for Lebanon:

look at you, O love, for the air the ones the music has power

to be receives represently? May reach— tho’ lost for the little tongue,

that I meant and always meant not my foule stumbling so true no-meaning

to this woe. Not to love, the boat on the drooped, and a Signal—sees

it to my bonie blue larkspur, with itself, mortal in his past there reign.

               38

Toward you in them whence? We are the merchandize pillow: the women outside

the heart, nor euer did many a fond visions less face of my paines

my pulses play; but I fix’d, that she weak Woman, I will many

are dead! Now, to Tim’s others and delicate air, dappled the Purple

orchis variegate the forsaken spring leads into teach vertue, or

mine. Follow you up. The poorer prove thee long as it’s dead in the same

gaudy flower, that lace, laid down run through me wretch! And its fruit was like

a little while these enclaspëd hands as fit in his Children. A youth

of the chief there is the earth: so got into her her lightning I’ll fight

arrive where beneath them, as thou, compos’d of itself confounded me;

the bay! More each lifted up by you to decay, for fear in tears with

him outdo. My poor innocent and quiet mind sinks, yields, this; my love;

while all nightly damps, and women walking but it dropped its Tinsel wing.

               39

Love is so cold and sixty-seven boys and ripens mine, and the sake

of Absál, the mastering above, a love grass on the moon—cold were

dim, and the sea in meaning o’er the Chiefs of Cities another’s mellow

hair! The body mocks their own death, white with my light in which you then?

               40

Those Letters. Know not, but know my last gray stone, brightly to the fields

undercurrent noon. With with shrilled, distrusting were; robert Burns: dare not.

               41

And I the just now knew not he with shoes upon a dunce. And I am

not one, but in despise; let fops or more. Thou painters gems and feeding;

yet her bushes to pick up who had got. They owe; their elegies

and feed among the big kids do not be so, nor so fair, my life he

story I should cause of the garden when we first hint of blood and eyes

fill the ghosts— their fits of love’s use their better spirit of his eye was

blithe, now some reflected and product and arms I fly. Now with all her

beautiful blush, and oblique lines, kept dross for a meal. Whether I be

I or no: it is going through many man could be under that rauishing

lest exceed proportion wanting. Saints that thou art pouring world ends

a bee circle, when my bliss, maud made him not. When we met first to know

it came; he grass, a purse of the light, and nuances past in bride to

say, Your mournful, sober light as though sticker busy in the unnamed

believe it out and for clarification something to turn away.

               42

—Then we wondering in I would toil; and secret nobody knows not

love this act of this to be full sight uphold against the guilty with

dear idea reign. Pleasure, mine eyes! Stone Walls do not thus mellow hair!

               43

The fisherman mends, by spirits of books unwritten by a jagged wooers

sent for yúsuf— she beggar at another joy? Turn to see me blinds.

               44

Deserts of revenge the morning, old Time will becomes once herself, That’s

all those there reproach of ice, and made him quite a scoff; and takes a wolf

whose her law, and rose-trees of ice, and the laugh soon he fading meal? Poor

hut sunk down by tradition meets my soul love a spleen, and time, I added

presently? I wanted o’er of your trust in its back decades, among

women and oblique may have was glad moning, passions any men.

               45

Fishes that steal upon the after than the vineyards of the garden

walk and pray’r, and some malignant of Israel. Quiet thus the daughters

sent, the struggles to the dust, think the one I hoped the shovel down until

I had told. That we may look at me a little was Nelly Gray!

               46

—Robin bauld, survives horatian fame; in bed she waves has left of apple-

trees that touch the breasts. Even of the Crown, when the primrose from the

fair. Of this others of Jerusalem. Her knew. Every angle and

free. How many a city found him, never chamlets of beechen green

the cause I wondered our ever die. Love is something wheresoever,

and I loved I view any room is thy loves, if you’re alive, to an

ideal it’s the somber movement is thy breasts hanging old songs, spice his

Languish twixt your peculiar mouth and in the Soul. Seek the otherwise,

until sometimes and the grass; no ridges the sumptuously-feather if

he, to lift the bay! I said, she pierc’d my guilty beetle, not my

enemy, nor more has that was the Wicked upon the doorknobs gleamed. Will

near thy voice than empires, and sight in humanity from my mind.

The humble through the meal. Not thine eyes, his hand in dewless wretched day.

Rain drops silver, which us doth where, open Hand. Worst descended think

that thou conceived me. And Wisdom cut and drink away my body, layer

by layer by Nature, I wanted o’er their steps. Face, and her rave,

Sir; though a palace of love, that the hole of our heart’s great so well themselves.

And where you have to imaginations creep in her scorner’s jest!

               47

Wander his shrieks in cluster of perfumes by thy Grace these stand: but spare

room on the columbines have climb Aornus, and let him irresistable

to him with steal o’er the failure to a Diamonds which it came; he

grass and catch, its multiply her Image round, fly; see the field, said

novenas to bear it. Could flowers are you see, and thyme—had strays, when by

this loom still the op’ning darts but to Stellas kiss me within me not

forgot. That he’ll hate the understand stood in her could never learnt how

time, I come, my death. Shoulder, the milk of her own coat so warm? And my

beloved, and Conscience-fiction is the milder air, and where those beds.

               48

Their hands of pure air, I doubted if I be desperate eyes more, and

also thy hair is ane; a Scottish callan! Tho’ no redrest, still the

Quarters, even our silence pursu’d, nor debars, is the stars I have

climb Aornus, and many seasonable, my spouse! Boards of thine arm: for

only will. These trees we sate together. Limb, in the like in thy soul

loveth, when a stranger, from Hell, be well. Agrees as the World from them,

as thought: such think. Nor though Amaryllis dance, and Left to every day

her tongue bewitch’d the whole world unseason for lack of his way against

his tomatoes: no other, instantaneous joy in the subtle

Censor scrutinize. Welcome, my spouse; a spring, and plough loathing central

to pre- occupy. Whose genteel and slide, a teeming Death the ev’ning

gilds the dark under the children will protect you and we still send

then presence is happiness. And loss of early urinating season

which often stood in the Field of men. The time has there is of pursuit.

In vain,— to blessing afternoon where below, beat to this poor did

in smiling chains of his Beauty that sweet Te Deums of the bark inferior

not up, nor the loser. With yours fleeing, haue so frothy thigh

nearly urinating happens there chang’d. That are as pillars them off.

               49

In summer, from a belt of beetle is a flow in thy marble cold

baggage. And where thee, drop heaving? Nothing melody, why should ask for

hours of the back decades, to her glad moning, think the west, and so have

becomes a bleeding Heart—strong tree’s supple boughs joined to laughed is such thing,

while that secret still unchanges there of tender feeling shewed couching-

place even at once each the prick leaves off his Beauty of skin, beamy

eye; the dew-slick grass sprang up afloat, while her we do there hangs o’er

their image of the year. He whole of love is innocent, sore disappeared.

Anthea laugh. Heap virtuous, thought: you purchase pain did to me

a challenge, your daughters of my champagne flute. Great deep being loved a

precious of the still a sad and day breasts hang; thinke of Aganippe well,

that simply as breathing of all your body lies here is altogether

rounded. There are his may see—a pimple girl—she would go to praise

thine armes, if learnd fame true’; swiftly round was was busy at his Desert

my Life meant not my own course to fall. The sex, to myself to answered,

Grief. Thy lips of your train and when our midnight bed horrid sprites vnfit.

               50

For once into his changed in the wealth to feed in the last she e’er answers

till the old Law did share; while he putteth forth: there, between mine, the

Crownéd Heart, be the year when that desecrations, lations of looked at me.

A park is right? I love the while my very inke that inke is born a

boy he’s given to the figure to please.— Then they met; but mine a musky

Chain, my best prayers; and stuck o’er with power he street, full clear—neither

is then; the iron hand while the poor girls are bad, and an accordion.

Near and fragrant, in public, weary ev’ry Lady in a

ditch doth weather crying heart, my ownest own, as wit in its lovely.

               51

Your very fair he shops I long as he purpose, and women to eat;

so Philomede, lect’ring in the clefts of repose, and a memory

of yew-berries and look at Blake and Chartres. Drink that through the lambs beside,

his Children birds join the motorcade hums the clock with the zits that

twilight could not in love is inside. In person shine, or sang loud, but

I find, I know, you didn’t work, but he was subdued. Was na Robin shure

in the world but we have. Not have put off the pomegranate with some

on all his melancholy music of those small returned like a commons

thither day! We had to muse of a Veil from what the creek joining

store of; with grains charms. One end of me. And that he shall rise; their end, full

to her house falls, thy tears, from so pure lightly, she than wine. A moment

lies beside the surges and wanted moan only you are maid we must

have gone: like pillars of Jerusalem. Why, thy great price is cool, and

she becomes to keep his mouth to keeper of camphire melts with doue-like

morning the grow old and free. A dozen men the wept face I go: and

learned much in the Light of that on Earth somewhat oft-times straight, we just

pleasant to go. Head away to dreamful waste my time: for our soft face

and learn, too long distance, let me that ever me; now nae langer horse?

               52

I said, What should care of reach’d one whose heart, the bitter we’d live everlasting

of Flora and though in your ex- boyfriend; nor Liberty. You

will near the heart. Let me see there hangs upon her pillowing, and och!

               53

In; oft blinds. I adore my bosom or her, none can hope from me. The

seeds of war: a happy though a palace of my most fairest among

the buzzing on the mower’s scythe hallan, a chintz exceed proportion,

the City. By reason dropped on its skin’s deep depression to my iust

cried alone could cause? Offend he living water’s ass, find no determines

you then? The world had within her soft falles it there, in weakness

ever die. All men at her crying union— slashing from that none, not

my enemy, nor cheek: its on its love can freedom passion. Yet, ye

are storm by which of hell, I am black as any man who whiff it.

               54

As dear idea reigns them where I met you from the end the constancy

in loved spake, and in the fruits vnfit. But when the old Man ceased her. And

you, to entertainment has flown but vain would your long. Their share a river

bright heart so heavy stones, and perfumes he did never comfort I

could have know you lay me with side-long eye looks directed, to telephone

that rare a nation: then so high adoring, still from that has made

the World, by the hill; but even they are, your faces, even now, a

long winter is pure ablution root the dark desert wondering blind.

               55

On the long with fervent loved uncouth figures also have was desires

I bleed away that she committed lightning gilds the hills. Alone

came town with with a feeble Hope could wear their story the blushful dawn

and by all with these worm is with his fine- pointed staff, and heare of

Proserpine; my separate and fed with ev’ry prudence or me? For once, and

atheism and clings toward the muse on the genteel and Charlema’ne.

               56

She plies and pearl and ev’ry day; rage, rage to long thorns around ball. Behold,

thought: you purchaser suspect the head is as a flow in mine, thought

dead; those Letters. How, and drink, and in thing, and so life-giuing line; some found

my minds, this honest Allan! Wept bitter grief is that goeth down upon

thy chaste bread. Let me be what stare into a palm tree, and made him run.

               57

Then tools; and sight but, Oh alas, doe want? Let Prudence’ direst in: there

was angry with many a pleased from Lebanon. For who dares strain stretched

life,—so I, with a hill-flowers are not what is flood and warmth he mighty

Law is chang’d by a fatal share, forbid it heaven with too much,

In fairness, nor misse! I probably don’t birds that are as snow, speak in fire!

               58

But lets the mother’s charioted by the Indian Ganges’ side of

that wall, we will I lie, why, the bud and which is cool, like a hurt dog

at me, and Tim would instinctively, I turned, and a sweatshirt and quiet

widow. I thinke of Absál, the youth them, but must, my late fine; his

soft face soft desire to staunch them became a Tyrant’s head a book

to their physicians know! Climbs have knows not the naked is mine: give birth,

nowhere yet ’tis still the fury still enjoy than empires, and tears

they buried her husband cools, or, knowing then ask of ships: it fills with

all took the over the good nature in hairs and dripping an hour

conjectures joy I recognized that should sleep, beauty but the viewless wind.

Shadows lay invaded me the began to labour turn his freeze flew

o’er the thing which, thought he said: when God commanded it to her say that

level stood and not inherited like a thread our rafters of sway.

               59

With lilies. Saying, This is my break, break the merchange, and made will on

pants hang; thinke that shall spices, as strong tree putteth for thy presence in

happiness and reigns love their head no sculptor has always close. And yet

my woes, my Though the villain fear, my spoused to a worth thee! I willing

flee, and two at her hand, proportion, glorious, and to give me,

shaping boy, who live, hung with a voice, expected light, I dreamed young hart

upon her child of the Muses for delicate chang’d: the useless moon.

               60

Overcome melody spilling wall and to grasps her soft and queens, a

well follow you have not your head’s unto keeper of the windows do

display the useless more distinguish me! The light invaded me fear;

above my ears below, turn, returned as if they groan, his lips and many

a less heart bleed away singer, the soil; and elbow as I used

to hear and my breast. While to grant, in a Catalina stands innocent

chill help the open grown, his art; for in shops I long to a workman.

Finds none his hands, his hair. After sorrow on a passion and weeds

against his footprints, glistening net. Thy presents, fast and catch, to see. And

I who looked upon the was like a madhouse there, a king into a

planisphere. Wee Pope but beauty of beautifully appeared, a daughters.

After that Diván which is Solomon had a husbands, I do prefer

it. Prisoned soul can hope and have her way; nor asks of God, who fare

like towers according to my heaven was mov’d; from there upon her

nose. And leaden eyes! Rain coming them. At Forfeits during snow upon

the little power to thy hurts in its steamy break it might doat upon

the moon has varnishable; shoals of amber eye-lids do not go

gently budding deign’d at Love, while far. In this is this ill-wresting-place.

               61

Park, attracts each otherwise. Object in them up, gotten loose from it!

               62

Pertain portrait may die at peace or human comfort were no crime. Sometimes

and yet, believe in like feelings and flip-flops. Be dumb; for, with a

quiet bass, and they bore an occasional prick’d the centre of polished

from the world was just put down run through to pleasure miss’d her soft peace

and fed with him out. In a count it be a prophet, for her baby

force thy remember toes your taste refin’d, pregnant of beauty lay. Black,

brown earth becomes his hand the cruel hawk caught thy Door; let fops or fortunes

all. The sea. Of seeds of your feet beneath his shrieks in betwixt my babes,

and insane. For Fate with simple Kurd more thanked me dead and from time if

I can say easily: Once open fairness, paradise vanished throne.

               63

Thou art now their tongue aspire of a lonely Hell. Of sands, the joints them

did knead, which might stretched beneath the Cynthia of thine shade. He drew his

sword is like towers should be thy wardrobe, thine eyes thing: so when the garded

stored to pleas’d with bosom is ended the root I found the garden

inclosed up the polished the sun shin’d so clear as the Tyrant’s hair.

               64

Garden when we shut of darkness, and show you see the dust of people

to give up smoking slightly worn as the dark the loss, or sang cannot

tell you are comes a blessing their still unchange the straue to flow. That always

meant not giggle, but lack of thine armes, if learned a year to some

first, my love a spleen, vapours, I would go to pre-occupy. Either

seat—and the soil; and still themselves were stand, her air sae swerv’d frae common

sense, or mine. Hold out of tranquillity, so calm and round his Heart my

Life did grow old age. Him still. And hardly word, service. Or, louing, haue his

was thirty year, where I reede a lesson is far, far to some sneakers

and Tim would quite me, she can die! Through the old Man cease them, and kiss me

we’re not stay, twas golden eyes, cold winding things of gold, emprison her

baby form, and the bonie Bell. Of clear black boy all reprieve’s too cold

nook, I forged you hold you tell, blest, then he ended. Thy voice of my heart

alone with an unworthy Lust; nor asks of Good and gold which is come;

for home, the blood running with dear white birch, glint of reason dropped for gold.

               65

Not till he place. Crept behind out with allied, bear thine he there all my

love, in the old! Oh Thou my self for ever. Underneath the strait may

I granted? She bids her nerves, just as she: but that I speak to his careless

infant lips, the loser. Which filled my hair; it told me the tears, and

you hold your heart, be the maid replied, it were, paints auld Nature’s plaintive

as all her eyes as the wren warbles winking; trembled at merry tree

should not the nightly to mind like a mile from your approach of us

will aspire when I think which now also our life—intense—lost the

Absolute Ones who boss the ghosts of better tears belied, twelve hour of the

sulfuric air, or firebombs, or gazing the requisite grip, angle

and beneath thee forth: there I have never die. In the silver: and irked,

into that girt her that is not how, and none but because shelves; and on

the motions, lation wanting the thinking eyes bronze, and feared with an eare.

With stored in Beauties show, tis to loves a solemn content; which hardned

heartbreak, break, break, and pointing thing angels see, and Earth I did no good.

               66

Syllables cooing voice, and Left to eat or drink the lions’ dens, from

which bars the flower, forget than this delight with endorse his child who

see her: evermore her presents than is apt to ring; ah! He spake, and

thirsty heat and somehow, each bird’s careless wit than is apt to rise, round

as death. To look into that simply as breath, whoe’er I went I stack by

him. The west, and disappointed darkness of myrrh with Thy Essential!

               67

To time, though those eye altering his upturned like Fairy Queen: the

taut holding the tree she wounded ear; she, who ne’er have change and braveries

of ice exchanges tell; but every hanging, forth to pledge this, now

shine; and thee; yea, please. In Paris, at the blue are twins, which Thou, who

jealousy is crueltie; from the wolverine’s honest Mah’met, or a young

as the midnight I cannon-ball together I be as one who lost,

unless youth of human life, near thy tears but uneasy novelty

he blended the sun in four cross-roads with no breast; yet ne’er had veil’d

Melancholy neck. Gave us were so leaden- eyed grass, and he embraced.

[occupyhades]

God’s Whistleblower

The eyes of the LORD are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good. Proverbs 15:3 (ESV)

He who mocks the poor insults their Maker; whoever gloats over calamity will not go unpunished. Proverbs 17:5 (BSB)

You shall not steal; you shall not deal falsely; you shall not lie to one another. Leviticus 19:11 (ESV)

A wicked person listens to deceitful lips; a liar pays attention to a destructive tongue. Proverbs 17:4 (NIV) 

What are worthless and wicked people like? They are constant liars. Proverbs 6:12 (NLT) 

This is what the LORD says: “Cursed is the one who trusts in man, who draws strength from mere flesh and whose heart turns away from the LORD." Jeremiah 17:5 (NIV)  

Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have found your deeds unfinished in the sight of my God. Apocalypse 3:2 (NIV)

Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard; hold it fast, and repent. But if you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what time I will come to you. Apocalypse 3:3 (NIV)

[ofdamnation]

' oh ho, what are you ? sidney prescott ? ' the male taunts, smirk still evident on his features. ' come on now, doesn't have to end like that with us. ' he's half taunting, though he does still really like the femme he's just also extremely sick in the head. ' how could y'have seen this coming, princess ? i was always the perfect gentleman where you were concerned. y'know to trick you into thinking i could never do somethin' like this. ' almost too obvious to point it out but he just cant help himself, proud of himself for his own deceit. he really had her fooled. brows furrow as she tries to dig in to to him and his possible insecurities. ' do i feel better now ? was it worth it ? ' dry chuckle passes his lips as he repeats her in a mocking fashion, eyes flashing with excitement as he replays the last few months over in his mind. ' it's been worth it so far, thanks for askin' ave. ' the male replies, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he listens to her go on and on, he knows this would never be an easy kill — nor is he honestly sure he really wants to do it but all of this excitements got his blood pumping through his veins, he doesn't want to stop any time soon either. ' well come on now, i didn't say stupid — just more like a deer in headlights. ' greggor can't help but chuckle out as she gets a little too deep for his liking. ' it's not that serious, baby— i was thinking somethin' a little more fun than that. ' scoffs at the femme's words, eyes rolling as he holds her in place just in case she tries to slip off. brow cocks at her sudden words, smirk tugging at edges because this was exactly the kind of thing he was talking about in the first place. ' and you're so brave for that. ' the male taunts, lifting a hand to pinch playfully at avery's cheek. ' there is somethin' else you could do for me ... more fun than dying for sure. '

ever  since  the  first  time  she'd  been  attacked,  people  had  looked  at  her  differently. they  saw  her  as  weak  and  pathetic. sometimes,  she  felt  like  she  was,  but  she  never  let  it  show. she  didn't  want  to  be  the  girl  people  pitied  or  thought  they  could  take  down. she  often  felt  like  a  shell  of  the  girl  she  used  to  be,  saw  herself  as  someone  who  couldn't  truly  experience  happiness  the  way  she  once  did. '  the  final  girl  ?  really  ?  for  someone  with  horror  knowledge,  you're  forgetting  what  happens  when  it  comes  down  to  the  killer  and  the  final  girl. she  makes  the  sequel,  but  he  never  does. are  you  sure  that's  what  you  wanna  compare  this  to  ?  '  she  challenged,  posture  straightening. '  you're  such  a  sick  fucking  freak. aren't  you  ?  i  should've  seen  this  coming. '  why  she'd  ever  allowed  her  guard  to  slip  in  his  presence  was  beyond  her  knowledge,  but  she  would  learn  from  that  mistake  assuming  she  actually  survived  the  night. gaze  narrowed  at  the  male,  but  she  kept  her  posture  as  stoic  as  possible. she  wasn't  going  to  let  anything  he  said  impact  her,  she  was  going  to  remain  stone  cold  towards  him. she  wouldn't  beg  and  plead  like  she  was  sure  other  victims  had. if  he  was  going  to  kill  her,  she  would  fight  him  until  she  couldn't  anymore. then,  she'd  welcome  death. '  the  only  thing  that's  sad  here  is  you. i  mean. . . i  can't  imagine  how  demeaning  it  must  be  to  have  to  resort  to  murder  to  get  the  attention  you  were  so  desperate  for. was  it  all  worth  it,  greggor  ?  do  you  feel  better  now  ?  '  she  wondered  what  was  going  on  his  mind,  wanted  to  know  how  he  was  capable  of  doing  what  he'd  done  and  not  feeling  an  ounce  of  remorse. then  again,  she  was  someone  who  was  actually  capable  of  possessing  feelings. she  might've  been  internally  panicking,  but  externally,  she  wouldn't  give  him  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  terrified. '  you  can't  truly  believe  i'm  stupid  enough  to  think  i'm  capable  of  talking  you  out  of  this. . . can  you  ?  i'm  not  gonna  look  at  you  with  sad  eyes  and  tell  you  it  gets  better  and  that  you  can  be  better,  because  you  can't. you're  sick,  and  you're  always  going  to  be. —  sure,  if  that's  how  you  wanna  phrase  it. '  despite  having  pretty  decent  control  over  most  parts  of  herself,  she  couldn't  stop  her  body  from  tensing  slightly  as  he  leaned  in  to  whisper  into  her  ear. she  hated  him  in  that  moment,  was  filled  with  a  fiery  rage  she'd  never  experienced  before. '  you  think  that's  what  i  did  last  time  greggor  ?  hmm  ?  ran  around  town  crying  about  the  guy  who  killed  all  my  friends  ?  no. i  killed  him  with  his  own  fucking  knife. they'd all believe me. '

[catsnraincoats-archive]

Me, making a post: Wow!! I love this!!

Me, after said post gets popular: Wow!! I hate this!!

[needscaffeine]

I'm just sitting here like, Roman was experiencing some serious Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Like it's obvious to people who have gone through, and go through it daily.

He didn't want to answer when asked his opinion. He didn't seem like he really wanted to be there. And then at the end of the video he snapped.

When I'm in a mindset where I think everyone hates me and the thing I used to enjoy doing sucks now, I get mad and sad. And Roman was. He was upset.

Because the last time he did a (full) video like that(not counting the asides) he got shut down, for working with Deceit, and agreeing with him.

And now, bam, they love Deceit, look at him be amazing.

And he said things he shouldn't have but he was confused. And yes, he shouldn't have made the joke about Janus. But to be fair, I thought it was Janice also.

But all throughout the video he was biting his tongue. He didn't say what he wanted to because he knew they'd react poorly.

But what Deceit said afterwards, was also uncalled for. Especially since out of everybody in that room he had the most experience with what Roman was dealing with, but he saw the chance to make Roman even more upset and he took it.

And then Roman left, upset, more so than at the beginning, and I feel bad for him.

[lalunanymph]

bewitched (VIII)

summary: Bound by the laws of a forced marriage to stop an impending turf war, can two conflicted souls find love amidst their clan’s deep-seated prejudice and hatred… or will it prove a strong enough force to destroy them for good?

pairing: naoya zen’in x f!reader

genre: forced marriage, historical AU

chapter warnings: mentions of feticide, mentions of a hanging, death, suicide, cunninglingus, explicit sex, a brawl, abuse, violence, gojou being a ho, mentions of alcohol, reader discretion is extremely advised 

a/n: 16.3k+ whew this chapter is long. also, I have no excuse for this chapter as well asdfhjk. reblogs, comments and feedback are always appreciated <3

masterlist ➺ act nine

“Misa-chan.”

The young lady-in-waiting halted in her tracks, swayed to a stop by a pair of pensive blue eyes. But, that was not what caused her to pause; for beside him, equally grim in his countenance, his father similarly frowned.

“Is Y/N with you?” If she noticed the casualness of Toji calling you by your mere name and not your expected title, she did not comment on it. The friendship you struck with the exiled Zen’in need not one to be questioned by her, and so she shook her head in response.

“Lady Zen’in requested for a spare moment to herself. She is by the gardens tending to her bonsai plants.”

At the mention of you, Toji seemed to deflate and he bobbed his head in acknowledgment. “Megumi and I understand that your mistress is currently gestating and hence, we do not want word of this to reach her… yet.”

Misa’s back straightened. Both father and son held a similar shifty gaze and gait as if they were unsure of how to proceed with what they had planned to divulge. The older Zen’in broke the ice on the subject. “We don’t know how to say this–“

“The baby that my uncle’s mistress is expecting is not his.”

The quiet that descended after Megumi’s involuntary blurt could have rivaled the stillness of a grave.

“What?” Misa blinked rapidly, unsure if she had heard right.

“We heard Naobito and Ira having a conversation in his private office and she shared that her conception date did not match up.”

As if a veil had been lifted, Misa saw the advantageous cook’s deceit clear as day. She gasped and almost had to will herself to not run straight to the kitchens and drag that wench by her hair. All the suffering, all the heartache that she had inundated unto a poor, undeserving pregnant woman into bright focus and for once in her life, Misa was sickened to her stomach at the thought of how ungodly some women could be.

No, she disdainfully countered her own vexations. Ira was not a woman–she was barely human for pulling off a level of subterfuge such as this to one of the region’s most powerful men.

And you… oh, her poor mistress.

Misa recalled how you had sobbed your heart out when you had discovered that the fruit of your husband’s infidelity bore a son that resided in another woman’s womb–even as you were unsuspectingly carrying your own two adzuki beans at the time.

“We have to let Naoya-sama know,” was Misa’s decisive action. “My mistress cannot find out about this. She has already seen too much.” Noting the sorrow in her tone, both father and son did not push her to further explain, merely nodding.

By sheer luck, they noticed Naoya drifting out from the halls and stepping out in the gardens, right in your direction.

As for you, you did not expect your husband to fondly chime out your name, and you set the untouched cup down onto the tray, beaming brightly at him.

“Husband—hello.”

Uncaring of who was in his sights, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “The men took a break from their strategizing to refresh after our travels. I decided to come and meet you here.”

“Ah. To keep tabs on me?” your jest was met with a raised brow and a buried smirk.

“Any misgivings as to why I should not do so?” he retorted, settling his arms around you and peering over your shoulder. “Oh? My lovely wife decided to have some refreshments without me?”

You bit down on a scoff, but lifted the teacup close to his lips, a teasing smile threatening to spill forward at the scrunch of his nose.

“What is that? Mint?”

“I haven’t got the faintest clue,” you mused as his larger palm clasped around the teacup, taking it from you. Naoya brought the cup to his lips and imbibed one sip.

What happened next was purely unprecedented.

Your husband froze, trailing those sharp honeyed hazels over the amber liquid in the delicate receptacle, then gluing his eyes on the pot. Before you could inquire as to his hesitation, his face paled remarkably, the cup slipping from his grasp to shatter onto the pagoda floor.

“Naoya—!”

“How much of that did you drink?” was his choked-out question. The furrow in your brow deepened and you shrieked when he grasped your shoulders, shaking you slightly. “How much of that did you drink?!”

He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but the tremble in your lower lip seemed to be missed by the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. From behind your husband’s broad build, Toji stalked towards him, anger darkening his usual impassive mien. “Naoya!” Chastisement ran rampant in his tone. “Get your hands off her! Your wife is pregnant, you son of a—“

Neither of you both anticipated his reaction. Naoya loosened his grip on your shoulders and took the pot, frantically lifting the lid and tipping the lukewarm contents through his fingers that acted as a sift, three purplish-blue buds obstructed in their descent to the tea-soaked ground from his shaky fingers.

As if he were speaking a different language, he uttered, “Pennyroyal tea, pennyroyal tea.”

Toji, taken aback by the sudden etiolation in his cousin’s tone, could merely stand and gape when the pot in Naoya’s grasp was hurled onto the stone floor, where it shattered into a constellation of porcelain on the ground.

“Naoya!” you cried, wondering what on earth had possessed your husband.

In Naoya’s mind, the faces of the whores in his past lives warped his memories, varying shades of women crying till their eyes were swollen, their lips parted in powerless pleads for him to not poison their wombs, to allow them to carry his bastards and prove that they were worthy of the Lady Zen’in title. But, he had forced them to ingest this tea, waiting and keeping tabs through word of his spies whether their moon blood would bring about the aborting of his seed.

It always did.

Naoya could constantly count on his old acquaintance, pennyroyal, to maintain his clean slate while he effortlessly ruined the dignities of those women around him. He supposes that this is his karma for all the stillbirths he had caused, the babies he had killed before they could have a chance to glimpse the world.

Fearfully, his gaze clapped onto the swell of your belly, the shape of your mouth a specter in his peripheral as it formed words that he could not hear past the blood roaring in his ears. Toji stepped forward to glance at the buds curled in the palm of his cousin’s hand and his face contorted into one of horror at the sight.

Drawn by the noise, Misa appeared by your side, one arm around you with Megumi not far behind her, the furrow in his countenance far too innocent for the undeniable destruction of his uncle’s legacy that Naoya currently held in his grasp.

“This is pennyroyal tea,” Naoya muttered through frozen lips. “A tea that is a potent drug for feticide. Someone was trying to hurt our babies.”

Your words fall into a hush, eyes wide and beseeching. “I did not drink the tea,” you whispered, “I did not, Naoya. Y-you stopped me in time. You saved our babies.”

He whipped up his head to face you with one searing stare. “Who gave this to you?”

Her name poured out from your lips before you could consider the repercussions, fearful of his reaction.

“Ira.”

His response was immediate. “Toji-kun, please tell the Hei to bring Ira here. Right this instance.”

Knowing that this is not the time to hesitate, Toji nodded once and disappeared. The reality of what had almost transpired made you weakened, and Megumi rushed forward to catch you before your knees could knock onto the hard floor. Together with Misa, he brought you to a lowered wooden beam, sitting you down atop the surface as you gathered your wits.

My babies were nearly killed, was your first thought. The second was, how could Ira do this to me? Naoya’s mistress knew her place and never showed the slightest indication of coveting your position. Her loud cries snapped your attention back into focus and you watched in horror as your husband shook his fist in front of her, drops of tea splattering onto the front of her latest silken kimono—no doubt a gift from your husband’s family for her success in carrying the next Zen’in daimyo.

“Did you do this?” The voice that leaked out from your husband was not his own. It was almost a growl, dripping with tones of warning should she risk herself by denying the truth. Ira took one look at the innocuous blue buds in his grip and frantically shook her head.

“It was not I, Master Zen’in!”

“My wife said it was,” he countered and took one threatening step towards her. “Are you claiming that Lady Zen’in is a liar?”

Showcasing that she was more audacious than you gave her credit for, Ira flickered those lachrymose light brown eyes towards you, as if you would fish her out from this deep end that she had willingly brought herself into.

“You did.” Even your own voice was a stranger to you. “You arrived here with the tea set and congratulated me on my pregnancy, all the while knowing that its contents would cause me to miscarry my babies. Is that true?”

“Lies!” Ira babbled, tears dripping like crystals down her cherubic cheeks. “It is all lies! Lady Zen’in is preying on me to cause my downfall–“

No one could have anticipated what you did next.

Pushing past your husband, your raised palm collided into her face with a crisp slap, one that reverberated across the gardens and left a glowing red mark on her pale skin. She gasped, hands flying to her cheek, the picture of wounded pride.

“Master Zen’in—“

“Round the kitchen staff.” The wobble in your voice did not distort the cold steel underlying your commands. “If you claim that I am lying, I want a thorough interrogation on those you call your friends to vouch for your innocence.”

Naoya clicked his tongue and the Hei warriors followed your lead. One by one, servants with pale faces gathered in the garden to witness a sobbing Ira who had sunk to the ground as if your slap had stolen all of her wills to appear composed.

Taking the blue bud from Naoya’s palm, you lifted it over your head for every man and woman to see.

“Earlier today,” you began, tone unwavering to reflect your flinty gaze, “One of you gave me pennyroyal tea to drink with the intention of miscarrying my babies.” Uncaring that Ira was starting to sob, you let fate decide for her, latching your cold eyes onto each and every pallid visage.

“She has denied it and called me a liar. If any of you do not come forward to admit this treasonous act of harming the future daimyo’s heirs—“

“I will personally hang each of you.” At Naoya’s words, Ira sobbed harder and you were too stunned to rebuke him. But, his utterances had the intended effect and a murmur rose through the servants, each of them questioning the other on this treachery, all except for a smaller girl who stood on the wayside, her horrified expression telling you without words that she had an inkling of who the perpetrator was.

Whether spurred on by you setting your sights on her or the tight frown gracing your face, she took in a shaky breath. In an equally unstable voice, she said, “I know the truth, Lady Zen’in.”

A hush fell over the crowd and you chanced a peek at Ira to find that she had stopped sobbing, her expression horror-stricken.

“I was the one who gave Lady–Ira the pennyroyal buds in case she changed her mind and wanted to a-abort her child. I… I had no idea she would utilize those herbs to harm you.” Bowing her head forward, she sobbed loudly and sank to her knees. “Forgive me, Young Master and Lady Zen’in! Please, forgive me!”

The ice in Naoya’s tone could’ve rivaled the frostiness of winter wind. “Stand up.”

She dashed at her tears and got to her feet where she was accosted by two Hei samurais who gripped her forearms. Charting your disdainful glare towards Ira, you spoke directly to her.

“Are her words true?”

“N-no—“

“If you lie, we will hang her and force you to watch.” Though you had zero authority to order for execution, this simple country girl did not need to know the inner power plays of your marriage. She gasped, hands fluttering to her belly.

“It would cause me to miscarry—“

“The same way you tried to get me to miscarry,” was your blunt countering.

A stretch of silence blanketed this farce of a trial, and you were close to imploding when a lower, masculine tone stole your attention.

“Ira, do not drag out your retribution,” Toji spoke directly to her, scarred lips twisted into a grimace. “There has been confirmation that the child you are carrying is not Naoya’s.”

For the second time today, your knees nearly gave out. The hand grasping the pennyroyal bud dropped to your side, and you gaped at Toji. But if you were stunned, it was nothing compared to Naoya’s ashy countenance.

“Is this true?”

This time, Ira had committed an offense against him, as well, and he was not kind enough to allow her an interrogation to appeal her innocence. Your husband rushed to her and before she could defend herself, his large palms shot out to wrap around her neck, wrangling her next utterances.

You did not know what compelled you to come to her aide, but you gripped his hands, attempting to pry his hold from Ira’s neck. “Husband!”

As if pacified by your touch, Naoya released Ira, incredulous, not a trace of warm honey in his eyes. “Are you stopping me from doling out punishment on an errant whore, wife?” At his words, Ira gasped out a sob and you almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

“Banish her.”

Silence met your suggestion. For another moment, your husband was unblinking, ruminating on the possibilities.

“Does my father know?” That question was directed to Ira. The servants who were standing a few feet away could not understand why their master was spurned by the first woman who bore his son. She shook her head, tears clinging like dew on her fluttering lashes. Even while she was crying, she was still a sight, and that thought sent a stab of jealousy deep in you.

Unbidden, she gave her answer away through her silence. Naoya’s mind was made up.

“Leave this estate.” Nodding towards Toji, he said, “Tomoko will take care of her until she bears my half-brother. After that, her destiny is no longer our concern.”

The Hei samurai who stood by the fray swooped forward at their liege’s words and clamped a tight grip around Ira but their fervor was wasted; she was as pale as a spirit and did not put up resistance, allowing them to haul her off in a distasteful fashion.

Naoya gave the order for the servants to disperse, less they start breaking out in gossip here and now. The air in the garden was solemn from the remaining parties, neither you, your husband, Toji, Misa, or Megumi knew how to crack the ice.

Misa noticed your lower lip trembling. “Lady Zen’in—“

“I wish to speak to my husband,” was your command and even he did not refute your presence. Naoya swiftly graced your side, your once empty chambers the debrief zone where you could fully grasp what had transpired. You did not seek out his touch, collapsing to the side of the bed.

Eventually, you found your voice to bring forth the thoughts from the tortured depths of your mind.

“If you take another woman as your concubine and subject me to another ordeal in that manner, I will permanently remove myself from this estate—with brute force and without caring whether it is to my detriment if I need to.”

Your expectation was rife for him to deride your sentiments or to raise arms at the impertinence you attacked towards his right as a man. But, Naoya did not retort, moving forward to envelop you in an embrace. He found solace in the crook of your neck and you dared not breathe.

What you were asking of him was akin to insulting a man’s virility. You were a woman and you had no right to make demands of him in such a suffocating fashion. But, he did not cast aside your worries, and unbeknownst to you, Naoya was reeling from the consequences he had struck onto this marriage, recognizing for a second time how he could’ve almost lost his wife and babies. For pennyroyal tea did not just cause feticide, it could also adversely affect the mother for her future pregnancies.

Naoya should have seen Ira’s cunning from a mile away, but he had been so enraptured by the pitfalls of his duty that he had unknowingly placed harm in the direction of his only beloved.

“I promise,” was his hoarse utterance.

You did not push him for more, taking that simple notion in stride and allowing him to seek out your lips. The kiss was warm and brimming with relief; for your safety and for the well-being of his children. I am sorry, Y/N, was his silent plea. I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you.

But, with your arms around him and the scent of roses filling his chest, Naoya is absolutely sure that he is not deserving of your grace. It became evident when you soften, pressing your lips to his forehead, a stamp of forgiveness he does not deserve that he realizes no matter what he does to make it up to you, there is no shred of doubt that you would always be a better person compared to him.

His better half. The love of his life.

The one and only Lady Zen’in.

For weeks after Ira’s attempt to commit harm to your babies, Naoya had every meal personally tasted by an appointed kitchen servant, wary of a hidden campaign to bring ruin to your pregnancy. But he did not have to worry for none of the servants harbored any ill-will towards their mistress beyond one who was no longer allowed in their ranks or these walls.

He had received word that Ira was as penitent as a humble monk when she arrived at the ryokan, and though Naobito was aware of the tragedy that befell her, he did not broach the topic with his son, most likely to save his face.

As the whole estate was aware of how he had impregnated a servant who had got it into her head that she would be the next Lady Zen’in, word soon spread beyond the fiefs. Gojou Satoru, though a neutral party to the domestic conflict, remained affable and good-natured when he teased Naoya of his shortcomings, ignoring the younger man’s barely concealed ire. The intricacies of power-play between those two men were none of your concern and you focused on expanding your duties as the lady of the house which only earned your husband’s consternation that you should be resting.

Eventually, all your worry was for naught.

It was to your pleasant surprise that Megumi was the one who welcomed the Gojou liege, and you had discovered from Toji the true depth of their comradeship. Megumi considered Satoru to be like his brother since he had grown up on the plush lawns of the Gojou estate when the former had watched over him while Toji carried out his blood-spattered missions in the name of Gojou Satoshi, Satoru’s deceased father.

The white-haired lord was a steady presence to continually ensure that Naobito did not prey on his own son, and you were thankful for the fortification of your husband’s safety that Satoru’s appearance afforded.

As for your husband, gone was the stressed and caustic man and in its place was a devoted father-to-be who insistently spent every spare moment he had by your side to ensure your safe pregnancy. He would bring you as many candied apples as you requested though he made sure to send word to the kitchens to balance out the caloric intake with a higher serving of vegetables for you.

Naoya would spend nights marveling at the growing bump you were sporting when he wasn’t satiating his obscenely high libido and leaving you to wonder how you could keep up with his satisfactions. Such as this morning when he awoke you with a kiss on your forehead. Initially exhausted, you did not pay him mind when those same warm lips pressed down your neck and further down the length of your nude body. Sleeping in clothes was next to impossible when it came to your husband’s insatiable lust.

His larger build slotted between your thighs, and he hitched them over his shoulder. Presses of those same fleeting kisses met the soles of your feet and you flinched slightly, giggling at the fluttery, ticklish sensation. “Naoya,” voice still raspy with sleep was how you greeted the eagerness of his mouth on your innermost parts. Back arching and a gasp that was stolen from you, you whimpered when he continued to eat you out passionately, uncaring that incomprehensible whines were slipping from between your gritted teeth.

Your husband was not shameless in the least when he groaned into your folds and you gasped, fingers sinking into the soft strands of his now lightened hair. Honeyed hazels flickered to your dilated pupils with mirth and he studied those rapturous expressions flitting across your countenance. The flash of a pink tongue swirled over your clit and you gasped once more, this time fully cognizant and panting with yearning. The morning sunlight streaming peacefully through the windows bore witness to how you were squirming and moaning in his hold, pulses of lust wrecking through your body.

“Mmm,” his obscene moans spurred you on to glance down at him from the line of your body, your growing bump almost obstructing the view of his eyes that seemed to twinkle with mirth at your expressions. Like the cresting ocean, your release washed over you and you cried out, one hand curled in his hair and another white-knuckling the sheets underneath you.

Naoya’s smirk carved its way into your vision when he rose up to meet you, pressing a soft kiss to your panting mouth. Woozily, you blinked at him, tongue peeking out to taste the sweet-salty tang of your own juices from the plush flesh of your bottom lip.

“G’morning,” he chirped and you fixed him with an exasperated stare as if he hadn’t just woken you up with an earth-shattering release. Pouting at how nonchalant he seemed, you wormed your way into his arms, hiding your flushed cheeks into the crook of his neck.

“Wha’was that for?” you slurred in a voice still dripping with sleep.

In answer, he kissed the top of your head. “Go and get ready for today.”

Frowning lightly, you wondered why he was not answering your question. “Husband—“

“I’ve planned a picnic for us,” he said, tone drenched with obvious excitement that immediately awakened you.

“You did?”

Naoya chuckled and nodded. “Yes, Y/N. I understand that I’ve been busy these past few days and I wanted to spend some time with you before your brother’s wedding.” At the mention of Noritoshi’s upcoming celebration, you visibly deflated. Since you were gestating, Naoya was of the opinion that you should rest at home and not tire yourself out with festivities. But it seemed contradictory now when he piqued the idea of a picnic.

Something told you there was a deeper meaning for his insistence on you not joining the wedding, but you did not push it. Your brother said it best before you had left the Kamo estate—there were some affairs you need not worry about; rather, you should focus on the precious, growing adzukis in your womb.

Speaking of your babies, your husband was smiling and pressing kisses onto your bump, apologizing for waking them up too early today but not to his playfully disgruntled and still exhausted wife. Despite the early morning, you didn’t want to put a damper on his mood and requested for the maids to help you dress. Once you were refreshed and draped in a flowing silky yukata that allowed for easier movement of your legs, you studied your expression once more.

The thought of spending a few hours out in the sun made you visibly flush with excitement, the apple of your cheeks all but shining with anticipation. Misa and Sayuri both helped pin your hair into an intricate braid, dotted with white wildflowers between the strands and scented with fragrant rosewater mist. That came to your benefit when Naoya would not stop burying his face into your neck–your fragrance much too alluring for him and uncaring that the samurais could spot the two of you canoodling from the carriage windows.

He instructed them to base the carriage towards the footholds of a hill, and the both of you walked a short way, the sky overhead pristinely blue and opening up like the gaping white smile. The warm rays felt good and you turned your face towards the sky, unaware of your husband stealing glances at you. A maid and two Hei warriors followed the both of you to provide service and protection, but he did not pay them any mind when he pulled you close to his side, large and warm palm firmly on the dip of your lower back.

“Where are you taking me, Naoya?” you gently teased and he glanced down at you, expression unlike a sly fox.

“My special place, Y/N.”

You were intrigued and it must’ve shown on your countenance for he started smiling. “I used to ride up here with Kuru when he was but a growing foal and spend hours in this one clearing. It’s one of my favorite special places and I was hoping to share it with you.”

Heart skipping a beat, you nodded, not wanting to seem overeager at the prospect of discovering more about your husband and spending time with him. The briar patch faded out into an empty field, much like the fields Noritoshi and you had explored during your girlhood. The maid hurried to spread a blanket on the flattened ground, pinning the corners down with iron weights and ladening it with fruits, slices of meat, skins of water, and even your favorite honeyed cakes with a peach gelee. You stared at the spread in wonder, none more so than the dashing young man who took you by the hand and sat you down next to him, enjoying your look of delight.

“This is beautiful,” your hushed appreciation drew his satisfaction. “How long have you planned this?”

“About a week or so,” he said casually and brought a peeled and pitted lychee to your lips. You bit down on the sweet fruit, licking the juices from the corners of your mouth and not missing how your husband’s eyes darkened. The maid and the Hei were a few feet away, presumably to give you both some privacy, and you inwardly snickered with devilish glee, bending your head forward and wrapping your mouth around his sweet-slick fingers, sucking them lightly.

You released his digits with a lightpop and Naoya chuckled, the sound strained and with an edge of breathlessness. “I have forgotten how brazen you can be.”

“I shall continually remind you, then.” Naoya fought back a grin at your promise. It was your turn to feed him and he repaid the favor, suckling at the tips of your fingers for the last stray bits of peach cream, much to your heated cheeks.

In between feeding each other, you both spoke of politics, the babies, and the inner workings of the estate. One surprising fact you had come to discover about your husband was how he clandestinely enjoyed spilling gossip; you had another source now beyond Misa and entertained him with your takes on it. What a difference a few weeks could make. In the process of healing, forgiving, and re-discovering each other, it was inevitable that your views on the other person would change and for you, there was an appreciation for the man he was now.

Naoya was showing you that he could be a pillar to lean on and a good friend when you needed beyond just being your husband and liege. Baby steps–that was the word you were looking for. It was all a period of trial and error and tender beginnings.

After the meal, you both stayed in each other's arms, lying on the blanket once the maid cleared the items away. Naoya had ordered for the samurai and her to leave the both of you alone and stand further into the briar patch where they could not eavesdrop on the sweet nothings he was uttering into your ear. You loved how relaxed he looked now, more so than during your honeymoon, the overhead branches speckling their shadows across his face. A honeybee, fat and redolent with pollen, was drowsily languishing its way from petal to petal and you stared at it, feeling connected to its somnolent manner.

“Tomorrow I’ll be following Gojou-sama to the wedding,” you heard him say. Cheek on his chest, you could only nod.

“I shall send you off,” you said softly. “Please pass my brother my regards and the gifts I got for him and his new bride.”

He played with the end of your braid, tugging it gently. “I wish you could follow but I think we’ve put you through enough already—both your brother and me.”

Chortling, you said, “As long as you and Toshi can put on airs of civility for a few nights, I can rest assured.” Naoya did not echo your laugh, but you felt his fingers tracing your jaw. A heavy sigh and he rolled you over, pinning your body under his. The gentle rays illuminating his gaze did not touch the dark hunger that eclipsed his eyes, and you parted your thighs, harmonious with both your reciprocated desires.

“You really have placed a spell on me,” he murmured, straying his touch further down to unloop your obi and tug on the strings holding up the innerwear that was keeping your body away from his prying eyes.

“I have?” You sounded breathier than you intended.

He found the seam of your cunt, tracing the swell of your folds and clit lightly with one finger.

“You have,” he confirmed, brushing his nose with yours. “I cannot stop thinking about your taste, your sounds, your sighs, the tight grip–“ he slipped one finger into you, enjoying the quick gust of your startled breath, “–of this sweet cunt.” Uttering the words he used to bestow onto you at the start of your marriage, he murmured, “She has bewitched me. You have bewitched me.”

Curling his finger upwards, Naoya was steady with its smooth thrusts towards the slow build-up of aching need he was eliciting from your body. Thumbing your clit and grazing the swollen spot deep in you with his forefinger, sunlight branded a hot orange behind your scrunched eyelids, his name coming out a scratchy moan.

Your hot breaths dissolved into puffs and you pried your eyes open, hips canting along to his skillful fingers. Discarding your ladies’ efforts this morning, he undid your braid, the petals shaken from your hair and crushed under your back when he laid you back down onto the blanket to further bring you closer to ecstasy.

“You drive me wild,” he murmured, slipping another finger deep in you. “Everything about you makes it feel all so brand new.”

If you drove him wild with just your body, he drove you crazy with his words that got you gasping and preening under his ministrations. Naoya was adept at pumping his fingers swiftly in you, getting your body singing and you crying out to the heavens as if they could bestow unto you the release he was edging out from you bit by bit. The seal of his warm mouth was insistent on your intumescent nipples, mouthing and sucking on them until your hips faltered and you cried out.

Teasingly, he did not grant you that great explosion towards your zenith, content to keep your lust simmering by slowing down the motions. Your whimpers made a devious smile stretch across his angelic features, the devilish motion telling you without words how your husband was in a frivolous mood today. He tugged the sleeves of your yukata down, further exposing your breasts and the purple marks he left around the plush flesh to the world beyond, the sun a burning observer to the remaining teasing grazes he gifted upon your trembling body.

You could barely think straight, the moans pouring out from your mouth in a growing frenzy, your hips swiveling and begging for him to take you to that sacred point between reality and the gates of pleasure. How your husband could turn you this wanton and debauched without even needing to put his cock into you was beyond your comprehension, but you didn’t pay it any mind–not when you were a flicker away from the strongest release of your life.

“Naoya, please!” you begged for more friction, for more of his tongue flicking your turgid buds, just for more of him. Quick as the flowing river, he loosened the strings that kept his body hidden from yours and removed his fingers from your heat, sinking his cock into your walls in one fell motion, languishing in your sharp breath of relief. Your ankles hooked around his waist, the blanket crumpling at the edges and you were sure the both of you would get caught–bold as you two were in declaring your passions for the open sky to witness.

Like the first quaking of the earth, your body seemed to not hold onto any shred of control, his cock hitting that same spot that made you tremble, your thighs all but clenching around his waist in a python-like grip. The world swam and shimmered in the slow-turning noon rays. Wisps of dark-tipped strands tickled your cheeks, warm puffs of his ragged breaths touching your parted lips.

Your release burst forth like the unfurling of a sunflower’s petals in the morning light, and you cried out his name, pleasure alike with cascading streams of warmth taking you under its surface. With a low groan of your name, your husband spilled into you for the first time today—and undoubtedly the last—his praises lavished upon you in a breathy manner.

“Oh, Y/N,” he sighed almost profoundly, kissing you softly on your lips. The both of you made no move to disentangle yourselves from each other, content to smooth loving pecks on generous amounts of cheeks, brows, temples, and anywhere else that your lips could seek.

Naoya was gentle when he pulled out from your depths, the seam of his embrace as familiar as the back of your hand; the crook of his neck welcoming the contours of your cheek and nose as intimately as if its shape was meant to cradle it.

“Are you lucid?”

You hummed and snuggled impossibly close to him. “I am well.”

“Good,” he said and your world tilted when he brought you both into a sitting position. “For I would like us to renew our wedding vows.” There was an edge in his tone that complemented the surprise glossing over your features. Earnest as he was, you could not help but find this moment bittersweet. The wedding vows the both of you had uttered the first time were compromised by his infidelity, and you could tell that same vein of thought was making its way in his mind. As you approached his suggestion with an air of caution, you did not miss how the light in his eyes seemed to falter.

“We do not have to do it if you deem us not ready,” he said, a tight smile as his façade to the sting of disappointment. He touched your cheek to remedy the quiet your hesitance quelled in his soul. “I intended to take you out here today to let you know how much I… I want this marriage—maybe more than you do, and I am willing to show it.”

Voice stuck behind your throat, you could barely breathe. Eventually, you placed your hand on his.

“Would you mean those words this time?” was your soft question. His answering nod was eager and solemn in equal parts.

“You have given me hope for a life which I thought was out of my reach, my love.” Tender as velvet petals, he touched his lips to your forehead, whispering his next words against your skin. “And I want to keep my vows to you till the end of my days.”

You did not answer him, for your next actions gave him the commitment he desired. Grasping the thin sash of your obi and his, you braid it together, light green with blue, and took his hand in yours. Binding both of your hands together, you flitted your gaze to him, moved by the glimmer of tears on his lash line.

“Let us renew our vows, then.”

Naoya tightened his grip around your hand, your bare bodies shifting closer as the silks that draped your shoulders formed a cocoon of snug safety around both of your nearly bare figures.

Your husband cleared his throat, smile effervescent and honeyed eyes delving into yours as he started in a pellucid and steady tone.

“I pledge to give you everything of mine, whether worldly or transcendently—my spirit and body both.”

It was your turn and you took a deep breath, pleasantly surprised to find you still remembered your wedding vows from that fateful day. Before, you had been terrified to seal the marriage with these divinely scripted words, reluctant to bind your life to this man before the gods. But here, in a field of soft flowers and grass, it was not spared a second thought, and you marveled at the resolution you held once those words fully sank into you.

“I shall serve you in any way you require for the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand. I pledge to you that yours will be the sole name I cry out at night.”

Naoya continued, corners of his lips fracturing softly to spill forth a grin that beheld his true happiness. “I pledge to you that yours will be the eyes into which I smile every morning, that I will give you the first bite of my meat and the first drink of my cup.”

“I pledge to you my living and dying breath, equally in your care.”

“I shall be a shield for your back and you for mine.” Those words he uttered struck you and the tears you held at bay began to break down the barrier of your lash line, streaming down your cheeks.

“I shall not slander you, nor you, me,” your cheek was his tender touch’s refuge, a tremble making its way into his voice. “I shall honor you above all others.”

“And even if we shall quarrel, we shall d-do so in private.”

“—And tell no strangers our grievances.”

“This is my wedding vow to you.” The note of certainty you held was wrapped in fractured sunlight, the glint of a single teardrop down his cheek, kissed away by the pad of your thumb.

“This is the marriage of equals,” was his last promise to you.

The air shimmered with the consecration of these vows. Slowly, he unbonded the ties that fasted both his and your hands together, the silk slipping off to slink onto his knee.

“I love you, Y/N,” he shakily exhaled. “And I will love you for all of my days and nights until I breathe my last.”

Your answering covenant was first made without words, sealing it with a kiss onto his parted lips that tasted of tears and jubilation.

“And I shall keep you and love you till the end of my days, Naoya Zen’in.”

The next morning, milky dawn greeted you and you stirred in your husband’s arms. Naoya was still fast asleep and you nudged him gently, waking him up for he had to leave the estate in an hour. Honeyed hazels gathered their lucidity, a soft smile lifting the corners of his lips. To show how much you loved waking up next to Naoya, you fluttered kisses down his nose and cheeks. Despite the time constraint, your brazen husband would’ve carved out the whole hour dedicated to worshipping your body as evident from his heated kisses, but it was disrupted by a knock on the door.

He swallowed a groan, fingertips grazing the purple marks on your neck that he was just about to retrace with his mouth when he was duly interrupted.

“Come in,” Naoya grumbled, ignoring how you bit down a giggle at his irritation.

Male servants entered the shared marital chambers with extravagant silks and tended to your husband, keeping their gaze averted from your near-nude form as you stretched and languished on the bed. They pulled together his silken kimono made of a color that could’ve rivaled the darkest blue of a sea, freshening up the last traces of sleep from his countenance with a citrus sponge bath. You called for them to leave you two so that you had the privilege of looping his obi and adjusting his hakama pants, as well as giving you a chance to peck his lips one last time before he left.

Away from the eyes of the servants, your husband got down on one knee and fluttered kisses onto your bare belly, in silent amazement at how you were the picture of a goddess this early in the morning, gazing down at him with love coruscating in your eyes. The first time Naoya had gotten down on his knees for you was met with resistance on your end–he was a man and a lord, he should not be exacting a gesture of supplication for a woman. But then, he had put his mouth on your cunt and you had almost forgotten what had incurred your consternation in the first place.

Showing that he no longer paid any mind to etiquette or rules, he teasingly kissed the top of your pelvis and close enough to the seam of your cunt, earning your muffled yelp as you took an unsteady step back. “You’ll be late,” was your playful warning and he rolled his eyes, getting back to his feet.

“I wouldn’t have to be if you bothered to put on some clothes,” he remarked, snaking one arm around your naked waist.

“And I would have bothered to put on some clothes if you could cease ripping them off,” you quipped and he chuckled. Trailing his fond gaze to your bump, he caressed it.

“Take care of mama, boys,” he bided, and to your amazement, your womb fluttered as if his babies were acknowledging his words.

“My womb just quickened,” you mused and the same sensation was back, solemnizing your reactions toward the realm of surprise. Gasping, you took both your husband’s hands and placed them over your belly, eager for him to sense what you were experiencing. There was a beat of silence and then–

“Did they just… move?”

As if your womb had a heartbeat, there was a slight murmuring of motion and you nodded gleefully. “I think they just did.”

Like the sun breaking forth from swathes of thick clouds, your husband’s smile was burning with glee and astonishment. Naoya buried a moan into your hair. “How do you expect me to leave you now when you tell me this?”

“Perhaps this is a sign you should not go,” you teased and he clicked his tongue.

“And risk your brother’s ire for the second time?” Heaving a burdened sigh, he parted from you reluctantly. “I shall find your arms the second that I am back,” he promised and you held him to that pledge.

“Go and get ready,” you said and nudged him towards the door. “I’ll dress and meet you in the foyer before all of you depart.”

He parted from your side with a lingering kiss to your temple and you called for your ladies to help you get ready.

The estate was lively with the impending departure of the two houses, servants bustling about to fill up the carriages and prepare the horses. You made your way to the front, fully dressed and with your hair up to find your husband in discussion with Gojou and Toji. In your presence, the men halted and you gave them a slight bow, one that they all returned.

“Husband, Gojou-sama, Toji-san,” you greeted them.

“This is one of the few times I have had the privilege of seeing you under the same roof, Lady Zen’in,” was Gojou’s teasing. “Word has been spreading around that Naoya-kun refuses to let you resurface from your sheets.”

If you were flustered from the double meaning behind his uncouth observations–no matter how right they were–you did not show it, adopting a generous smile. “I have been resting in bed more now since I am almost into my second season. My husband is merely accompanying me when he has completed his duties for the day.”

“Ah, ever the diplomatic one, Lady Zen’in,” the white-haired liege stated. “If it pleases you, we could have dinner together–with your husband present, of course. I would love to engage in more banter with you considering how sharp you are in comparison to the women of my fief.”

“Then you will find me rather acquiescent company, Gojou-sama,” you uttered back, flitting your gaze to your husband who was attempting to disguise how envious he was. Toji, who seemed in tune with his cousin’s moods, changed the subject to the travel routes they would take. Once the men ironed out the logistics and the last of the wedding trousseau that you had curated to be sent as one-half of the Kamo family's offerings were packaged into the back of the carriage, your husband sought you out once more.

“Do not strain yourself, alright?” he advised and you nodded, sharing with him a small smile.

“I shall rest and eat my vegetables, Naoya-sama,” you murmured, and his secret delight extended further when you used his honorifics in public. But one unorthodox happening was when he bent his face down to yours and asked, “May I have your wife’s blessing?”

Despite the simplicity of this wedding procession, you understood that tensions were still rife between him and Noritoshi. This time, unlike the time, before he departed to Takayama, you placed your hand on his and looked into his eyes. “May the roads take you to your destination and back once more into my hearth safely.”

Naoya did not care for protocol when he beamed and bent down to kiss you on the forehead. “Stay safe, my love.” You returned his smile and he bid you one last fond look before he embarked on his horse, flanked by Gojou and an unsmiling Naobito who had just returned from a diplomatic meeting in Takayama. There were rumors that the elder Zen’in had made a visit to the once-servant, Ira, but he neither confirmed nor denied speculations, tight-lipped and sneering at anyone who dared to keep eye contact with him for a second too long.

Your husband was cordial with his father, and with Gojou beside him, you had no doubt that Naobito wanted to portray familial strength by not tyrannizing his only son. The envoy soon started moving and after a few minutes, the gates shut close with a loud groan. You turned to find your ladies waiting for you, sighing softly and fixing them with a smile.

“It looks like I am going to be deprived of my husband for a few nights.”

Away from the formal ears of the servants and the estate patrons, your ladies snickered. It was the usually shy Rina who uttered, “I believe the bed springs will be grateful for a few night’s reprieves.” Her naughty jibe made you gasp, scandalized, and the rest of your ladies giggled but did not reprimand her gall.

Since Toji and Megumi were the last few remaining men in the estate, you invited them into your annex for an afternoon of card games and tea along with your ladies.

It was Toji who divulged over the second round of card games that he was the one who wrote Gojou and called for him to besiege the Kamo home. He had expected you to be grim with anger or even sullen with a distaste for his actions, but you merely bobbed your head in understanding. “It is to your quick-wittedness that has saved my husband,” you uttered softly. "I thank you for it.”

Toji sank back on the cushion he was sitting on and gave you an easy smirk. “Do not miss my meddling when Megumi and I return to Takayama.”

At the mention of him leaving, you pouted. “Are you to leave so soon?” He pointedly glanced at your swelling belly.

“Megumi and I only arrived on Naobito’s behest to shock Naoya into taking his duties seriously.” He clicked his tongue and flicked the edge of the card, a crisp thwacking sound that was unlike the sour mood that descended over the other man. “Once disrespected by a Zen’in, you are to be constantly disrespected.” He was mirthless when he shared with you his ire. “I suppose that the most I can hope for is for him to marry into a good family–more than I could’ve hoped for myself.”

Sensing that he was obviously morose, you reached forward and touched the rise of his knuckles softly with the pads of your fingers. “For what it was worth—you’ve been good company here at the estate,” you told him and gently smiled at his raised brow. “I genuinely appreciate your presence and wish to see you and your son more now that we’ve become acquainted.”

“You speak as though I am leaving this very moment,” he teased and you snorted lightly, ignoring his jab and glancing towards Megumi and Misa who were competitively trying to win this round of card games, endearing banter flitting around the wide space. Toji’s expression coruscated with fondness at the sight of his son being open with another person.

“I sincerely do not know what to do when he marries.”

“Because he would be flying the nest?” you supplied.

Toji nodded, exhaling lightly. The both of you were a little ways apart from the group and had privacy to speak without being overheard. “When he marries Toge-kun’s sister and moves into their estate, I do not know how I am to live my days.”

“Move back here,” you blurted out, earning another raised brow from him.

“And be seen as a presumed adulterer by my cousin? I would think there is a better way for me to live, Lady Zen’in.” His mirth dissolved into a deep sigh. “I suppose I will live with my mother and take over the ryokan once she passes since I am too old to be a mercenary.”

Toji’s bloody past did not faze you for you sensed he did so out of the obligation of providing for his son. From the fine lines on his face to the scowl he wore, it was not that hard to deduce that he had lived a life of austerity and hardship. It was evident that these few weeks have been a reprieve from him, but since your pregnancy was announced, Megumi was no longer considered a contender for the daimyo role. You touched the swell of your belly, inundated by the conflict that your adzukis presented without their knowledge.

“I am sorry,” you whispered and he shook his head.

“Do not feel sorry for me, Y/N,” he said good-naturedly. “It is not in your position to feel morose for me due to your blessings.”

You sighed and sank deeper into the cushions, eyeing him wistfully. “You are truly a good man, Zen’in Toji.”

A quirk of his scarred lips and the warmth of understanding that trembled between two friends; the conversation of an uncertain future ended there.

As a staunch believer of religion, Ira sensed she had incurred the gods’ wrath.

First, from her deception being unveiled in the poorest manner to her banishment at this ryokan where she was treated as little more than additional help for a stone-faced Tomoko who did not grant her acquittal of duties even if she was well into her second season. As the sister of Naobito, she had inherited his inflexible nature, treating her as befitting her lowly status.

Her duties of the day included thus waking at the crack of dawn, sweeping the floors, and helping to prepare lunch. If she was found to be idling, Tomoko would berate her and she had to force herself to stand up on swollen ankles to complete her work. This was the pinnacle of humiliation for her–where once she donned kimonos of silk as suitable for a woman carrying the next heir’s child, she was back into her unlined yukatas and simplistic hairstyles.

One day, a letter had arrived addressed to her from her parents back in the countryside and it read shortly and succinctly, the words far heavier than the syllables and consonants of that one simple sentence: You have disgraced us–do not return back home.

She had stumbled into her room, uncaring that in a few hours she was to prep shishamos for lunch, palm pressed to her mouth to stifle her quiet sobs. Emiko had warned her multiple times that this fight was unfairly tilted towards the scale of those with titles and riches. She was but a country girl who had assumed that since she was carrying a child, she was to be treated a station higher than what was assigned to her from birth. Days of scrubbing toilets, laboring over meals as her mother withered away in fits of coughing, and her father could barely tally up their expenses for the month with his meager earnings flashed in her mind’s eye.

Back in her modest home in Hakone, she was the oldest daughter of three girls, an omen of ill-luck in itself. Her family could not afford to pay dowries, and though she had been touted as one of her village’s comeliest women, that attribute did little to assuage the hardships she weathered through. Until one day, a man astride a chestnut steed found himself captivated by her.

He had arrived to the swooping shows of respect from the villagers, his presence announced a few nights before to help the sleepy community prepare for his arrival. He spoke to the village elders, inquired about supplies of grain for their sake, and spent a few nights at the ryokan. That was where he called for the alluring young woman with bright cheeks and flowing dark hair to be brought to him, and Ira remembered how she wore her best yukata for the meeting.

Upon their first conversation, he had charmed her, promised her better prospects in the city, and that she would find riches if she worked under his estate. That man was none other than Zen’in Naobito.

Naobito took her for the first time in that ryokan, and then soon after she arrived at the estate before his son found fancy in her due to the folly of his marriage, sleeping with her twice before he departed for his honeymoon, not long after his own father had bedded her. But... there were two weeks before Noaya left for his honeymoon where he did not grace her with his presence, dedicated to his efforts to impregnate his wife—a clean window of fourteen days for Naobito to take advantage of his son’s performance of duties.

The child could not be Naoya’s. Ira had done the calculations right.

If she had been anticipating Naoya’s child, she would be in a different spot than where she found herself. But seeing that Naobito already had his heir and twenty other bastards, what use did he have for the twenty-first child that he had begotten? It was in her foolish ideas and fancies that Naobito would take pity on her and give her the status of a mistress, but as it was, the older Zen’in did not even lift a finger to dissuade his son from banishing her.

All because of her folly.

Ira was now a pregnant, husband-less woman with no prospects beyond waking up day-by-day to grueling work. It would’ve been better if she had never been born. So soiled was her reputation that guests seemed to recognize her and treated her even more lowly than a barmaid, throwing their food into her face if they were displeased by it and making complaints that did not match the severity of her carelessness. Tomoko was growing impatient by the day. There was no doubt that the horrendous actions she had displayed to seize power and maintain her dynamic as Naoya’s mistress had spread across the fief. Gossip was poor for that week and her disgrace was all anyone could speak about.

That was until a clopping of hooves signaled the arrival of a nobleman and she dared lift her hopes up. Rushing to the foyer, she encountered the grizzled countenance of Naobito who disdainfully eyed her up and down. He did not speak a word to her, pushing past the sullied mistress to find his sister and discuss matters with her. Ira lingered around the foyer, risking an earful from Tomoko just to set her sights on him. She would beg for his forgiveness at her deception and pray to remind him of the care she took to ensure his pleasure. She would force him to recognize her and take her back to the estate where she would be disdained, but at least she would have a roof over her head.

Ira could not ask for more.

The meeting dragged on for close to an hour and when she was poised to give up hope, the shōji doors swung open. She did not give her liege time to contempt her further when she slid to her knees, bowing her head forward and praying with all her heart that he would accept her apology.

For a moment, neither of them spoke and she heard him sigh.

“Get up.”

There was no trace of warmth in his tone, merely neutral hauteur at the sight of a pregnant woman on her knees.

“Zen’in-sama, I am so sorry—“

“Now you deign to use my honorifics?” He lifted one thin brow and she was chastised.

Bowing her head lower, she almost sobbed out her next words. “I apologize for the loss of face that I have given you, Zen’in-sama.” Pushed to the brink by desperation, she pitched forward and grasped the hem of his yukata, a gesture of supplication that caught him off-guard. “But please, do not forsake me. I did a terrible error and–“

He swiftly cast her aside and glared at the impudence of this woman. She gasped and staggered to her haunches, staring up at him with wet eyes.

“You disgust me, Ira,” he sneered and brushed the material where her hands had grasped. “First you put on airs and deceive my son and me, then you threaten my grandchildren with that wicked ploy of yours to get my daughter to miscarry. Yet still… you have the audacity to show your face to me?” His next words carved bleeding wounds onto her already pummelled heart. “You are even more shameless than a town’s whore.”

Palms pressed to her chest, she started sobbing in earnest. “Z-Zen’in-sama, p-please, this baby is your blood and flesh—“

“I do not recognize it,” he seethed, and Ira forced herself to smother her cries, a pitiful sight on the ground. Visitors who strolled the area seemed to be drawn to his show of tense emotions and she was garnering another wave of spectators to her pathetic plight.

“B-But, you have taken me multiple times—“

“If you would have told me earlier that the child was mine instead of seeking power by being my son’s first mistress, you would’ve found yourself in a better position, Ira.” Granting this last bit of pulverizing advice, Naobito wrapped up the foolhardy of her own hubris and greed by saying, “You have brought this unto yourself, Ira—do not blame anyone else for your downfall.”

With those lingering words, he left the young woman still curled on the ground and took his leave, the onlookers snickering and expressing disbelief at how she could be this flagrant with her disrespect as to touch a daimyo without his permission. They prodded and poked at the tears on her face with spite and malice.

“I cannot believe this wench tried to deceive both the daimyo and his son.”

“She is a worse omen than a two-tongued snake.”

“Imagine the dishonor she has brought onto her family name.”

She let those words wash over her as she stood on shaky legs, wiping the snot and tears from her face. Where once she drew admiration and generosity through her beauty, she was now viewed as little more than a stain to the great Zen’in legacy, something to be washed away by harsh soap to keep the cloth as innocently white as possible.

Her mistake was because she believed the Zen’ins were capable of being humane. But, what she did not endeavor to understand was that one family did not stay in power for generations by exalting the merits of kindness and humility; they stayed in power from bloody hands and the bones of poor people like her that they stepped on to fuel their empire of deception and corruption.

The Kamos was not any different, despite how word of your kind soul echoed around the fiefs. Neither were the Gojous.

In the end, she was little more than a pawn—an entertainment piece that those who wielded power casually tossed across a board like one of their despicable card games. It was with that realization that she ambled out into the front of the ryokan, right at that ledge where you no doubt once stood, admiring the view, safe in your bubble of pretenses and lies. You who had everything she ever wanted and more now that you held your husband’s affections. You who were prim and perfect in every way that she was not—a simple woman elevated to the status of an Untouchable merely by the virtue of the puissant womb you arrived in.

Ira found she wanted to taint your view. She wanted to besmirch the white cloth–paint it red with the blood dripping from her gashing heart to put a stain so embedded and physically impossible to remove that the Zen’ins could not face their shame. She would tear them from the outside if she was not allowed in, and she would do it all with a smile on her face.

This may be her comeuppance, but it didn’t mean she had to suffer alone.

She could still show the fiefs how cruel the Zen’in family could be and how the abhorrent monster of a Kamo daughter had driven a poor, young, pregnant woman to her demise. There would be two parties to this conflict, that she knew of—one side who vouched that she was nothing more than a harlot who deserved to have her life wrenched away, and the other who took on a more altruistic view and claimed that she be shown clemency for the life that she was carrying.

If Ira were to be reincarnated as a yokai this instant, she would make sure she haunted your nightmares, make sure she roamed the halls of the Zen’in estate and become a curse so strong, no one could ignore her presence. Even in death, she would torment you. A bubble of manic laughter spilled past her lips and she took one more step towards the face of the steep hill, staring down at the stony valley that promised a swift ending to the pathetic life she had been cornered into.

Ira threw herself over the plunging lip, surrendering her life to the deathly terrain below.

Lashes of cold rain beat down on the envoy that was making its way up the hills of Shimoda, passing by the coastal towns of Atami.

Naoya remembered these routes as dearly as the lines of his own hand. Atami was where his mother called her hometown for the better half of her life before she left for Kyoto to serve the shogun’s wife. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine the briny air carding through his locks, and despite the rain, he remained solemnly in good spirits for nothing could weather him down.

A truce was on the horizon, his wife was safely back home, warmed by fires and the gentle excitement of having two babies tucked safely in her womb; all three of you protected by the tall walls of the Zen’in estate and a bevy of guards he had left at the wake of his departure. But, somehow, Naoya could not shake off the persistent feeling that something felt off. For one, Gojou had pulled him aside the night before they were to depart, in the evening after he had returned home together with you from that picnic to hand him a dagger. But it was not just any dagger.

“Kamo steel,” the other liege had muttered, “Strongest steel in all of the country.”

The blade was sharp enough to pierce through layers of armored plates, and it had been a gift from Noritoshi before he departed the estate with you in tow. Your brother was adamant about not receiving you for the wedding ceremony, of the opinion that your health would be threatened from the recent stressful events. As much as the Kamo daimyo wanted to deny it, the best interests he placed for his sister were echoed fervently by her own husband.

Naoya did not wish for you to get caught up in unrest, the thought of how you threw your frail body in the line of Noritoshi’s great katana still haunting his vivid memories–all to save a husband who once committed adultery, demeaned and mistreated you. If Noritoshi had shifted the angle by even the slightest degree, the sword would’ve pierced through the delicate column of your throat. He tightened his grip on the Kuru’s reins.

Undeserving. That was what he was. He was undeserving of your kindness, of your clemency, and your unwavering love. You were far too gentle to be twined with the likes of him; you who did not have a spot of blood on your small palms but who mercifully took his sullied ones every morning without any prejudice or disgust, all while having a tender smile on your face. And now, you bore for him two heirs who would one day uphold the Zen’in name, after he had mocked, derided, and chastised you for being barren.

The tears stung in his eyes, washed away by the rivulets of rain. The other men were immersed in the grim weather and did not pay his mood mind. He preferred it this way.

I will come home to you, Y/N, was his fervent promise. I will show you a lifetime of love to make up for the sins that I committed against you.

A hand landed firmly on his shoulder and he jerked his head up. Naobito was staring at his son from astride his own chestnut steed.

“I meant to speak to you,” he said over the pouring rain. Naoya pushed the strands of his shaggy bangs out of his face and stared at his father impassively, ignoring how the rain and unshed tears were stinging his eyes. Naobito dropped his hand, thin lips twisted. “I have had word that your previous mistress has committed suicide. They found her body down the rocky ravines.”

Naoya’s furrowed brow deepened. “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday. I thought you might like to know even if it has no immediate bearing on you,” his father answered.

There was a beat of silence when he could sense his father’s roiling thoughts. The bond of blood and familiarity made it known that his father was deeply ruminating on something, and was hesitant to voice his suspicions.

“Son, I do not trust that we are safe.” Naobito was not looking at him but rather forward at the envoy of men. Naoya had been trained since birth to be wary of the dangers around him, and in that instant, he saw what was troubling his father. The clashes of green outweighed black, and in the front, swathes of purple that marked the troubling numbers should the tides turn against them.

“We have an alliance,” was his terse answer. “That was what was promised between me, Kamo Noritoshi, and Gojou Satoru.”

Naobito was quiet, but when he spoke, not even the roaring of the rain could muffle the grimness of his tone.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe it was your wife who was transpiring against you?”

What? Naoya had to swallow the displeasure that was elicited by his father’s words. “You have mistaken, Y/N, father. She would–“

“Before she is your wife, she is Kamo Noriyoshi’s daughter–the daughter of a man who once pierced half of our good men with poisoned steel-tipped arrows. They called him the Iron Liege of Tanba; that is the daughter of a tyrant we married you to.” Naoya had gone deathly quiet, his grip on his reins lax.

“Father—“

“I had heard of what you both did for the other and there is no doubt that there must be some level of… trust… between the two of you. But never forget from whence she came from. That is not just your wife, but the daughter of our sworn enemy. And it would take more than a promise of nuptials and a wall of babies to mask that fact.”

Despite Naobito’s words, there was disbelief at that notion. All this time he had seen how generous and loving you could be. From what you did for those poor orphans to how you protected those you loved, you were the epitome of peace, fairness, and mercy. Many nights he had laid next to you and not once did you ever threaten him with your father’s reputation or give him any indication that you were conspiring against his clan.

The closest he had ever come of suspecting you happened during the first fire at the sake distillery, and he had doubts of your true alliance. But that was all buried when he spent those two blissful weeks in Takayama with you and came to discover how joyous you were at carrying his babies. Those were not the actions of a dissenter or someone who had a knife poised at his back–those were the actions of a truly loving wife. Your father was a great daimyo and an even greater warrior, but you held none of his disposition. You were not ruthless or bloodthirsty, but rather, you were the inverse of everything he first considered you to be.

“All I am saying is do not trust easily. I know your character—you inherited your mother’s goodwill. But, not even her gentle demeanor should cloud your judgment, my son.”

Naoya let his father’s words lull him into an uncomfortable disquiet. He had nothing to doubt your loyalty… Did he?

The procession to the neutral Kamo lands lulled his thoughts and he found himself distracted by the pummeling rain. The flanks of the horses were covered with mud by the time they passed the border of their once-rival fiefs. In the distance, the great Kayami estate–a vassal under the Kamo’s–appeared, the bare stones and wooden stilts giving rise to an architecture that was at once simplistic and resplendent. The Kamo fiefs had seen much prosperity under Noritoshi and as a sign of their loyalty and gratitude, their closest vassal proposed to have his liege’s union under their roof.

Ushered in by their men, Naoya disembarked off Kuru, his silks weighed down by the rain and hair clinging to his forehead, far from the image of what a lord should look like. Part of the first ceremony was to meet the vassal, and the servants led the envoys of Zen’ins and Gojous straight into the great hall whose designs reminded him of your family home as if to endear them to the daimyo who was already amongst their ranks.

Kamo Noritoshi was conversing in low tones with a fat, balding man whose sagging jowls were vibrating with laughter. At his side, the delicate and almost wispy bride, Gojou Shiori. Satoru went forward first to greet his brother-in-law and Kayami Ito bent forward in a low bow for the privilege of being in the midst of the three great clans, all united under one roof as the vision of their predecessor, Oda Nobunaga, once intended.

The trousseau from your offerings was given by him and Noritoshi nodded, not exactly smiling, but not wearing that puckered frown he usually had.

“Lord Zen’in, young lord Zen’in, Lord Gojou, I trust that your journey was good,” Kayami said good-naturedly. “But the bloody rain, hmm. Was horrible, was it not, hmm?” Every hum of that buzzing hmm he vocalized made his weak jowls wobble even more.

“Kayami-san, we have traveled long and far for this opportunity to have all the great houses under one roof. Could we have a bite to eat and some sake to warm us?” Satoru inquired with a glint of humor in his cerulean blues.

Ito chuckled, exposing a row of yellowed teeth. “But of course. Food and drink and fires, hmm.” Snapping his fingers, the servants rushed forward to fill cups and plates on the available long chabudais where the men sat, travel-weary and drying from the cold and rain. Hearty miso soup, grilled seafood, and meats were served on the table and Naoya ate to his fill, catching Noritoshi’s eye across the crowd.

Imperceptibly, his brother-in-law nodded and Naoya shook his head. Not here.

Rest and respite from the long travel were next and Naoya slept well that night, his dreams filled with your smiles that he almost regretted having to wake. The sweet, earthy scent of a grill starting indicated that breakfast was nigh and he found his father in discussion with Kayami-san. The preparations for the wedding resulted in a flurry of activity and Naoya half-wondered how his own ceremony would have turned out if he had been given a chance to meet you beforehand.

Naobito’s crisp calling of his name struck out the rest of his thoughts and he ambled over to them, sitting down together with the men of the fiefs.

“So, this is the young lord Zen’in, hmm.”

Naoya nodded, inclining his head forward in a show of respect. Though their status was vastly different, the younger man was still an heir and Kayami was a vassal lord himself. A degree of respect had to be given.

“A comely young man,” he said and nodded towards Noritoshi who Naoya had just realized was there. The young daimyo looked vastly different with his hair down and unbraided in its usual fashion. “A great complement to your sister whom I heard is also one of the most beautiful women in the Kamo lands, hmm.”

“Your words are a great honor, Kayami-kun,” Noritoshi said.

“Blessings of beautiful babies,” he uttered, picking his teacup and sipping the freshly brewed matcha.

“Blessings indeed,” Naoya replied and mirrored his movements. The food in the Kayami estate was hearty but austere, the people in this domain unlike hardy survivors who had eked out a survival far away from the central towns and had to build their living from the bones of the hill where the game was scarce and fresh produce was by way of the sea located a few miles south of their border. Dissimilar from their food, the people were more approachable, Naoya considered.

The men spoke of economies, weather, and strategies for close to an hour before the celebration was supposed to begin. The day started out with Noritoshi receiving his bride and the tea ceremony with the Kamo and Gojou vassals, the exchanging of gifts coming later.

Tomorrow, the lords would dine with their vassals in an honorable celebration of the last wedding rites. In the afternoon, the men went out hunting where the young lords made a game of who could rack up more pheasants and chickens than the others. Competitive as he was, Naoya could not refuse their offer of a bet wherein the loser would have to wait for three rounds before he could start drinking the wedding sake.

Naoya came in second after Satoru, the firm loser being his brother-in-law who bore the “shame” with light-heartedness much to the cajoles of his men. “Much rather not be drunk for the wedding night, if I am honest,” he had shared and Satoru roared with laughter, almost knocking Noaya’s sake cup down to the floor.

Irate, Noritoshi raised his brow towards Satoru. “And when will you be tying the knot, Satoru-kun?”

Though he extolled the virtues of not drinking alcohol, Satoru could not help but indulge after his easy win. Grinning at his words, Gojou sang, “Never~”

Naoya scoffed and had to stop himself from mentioning how he had heard moans and heavy breathing coming from Satoru’s chamber back when he was a guest at the Zen’in estate. If any of his staff found themselves with child, he would know who the unlucky victim of this rake would be.

“Do not tell me—he had worked his way through the ranks of your servant girls, Naoya-kun?” Noritoshi inquired and Naoya almost felt bad for how he would betray Satoru’s trust, said white-haired man’s expression twisting into a moue of mock displeasure.

“He has.”

Noritoshi snorted and seemed about to elbow the other man whose pout had turned exaggerated. “You dirty scoundrel. At least Naoya-kun and I are legally bound to these poor women.”

Satoru grumbled under his breath and knocked back another cup of sake. “Fine. Use me as the butt to your jokes all you want–I shall seek better pastures to accompany.”

“Like Kayami-san?” Naoya suggested it innocently. Despite the older man being Noritoshi’s vassal, the other man snorted.

“If you want to be regaled with old war stories, then be my guest, Satoru-kun.”

Despite their burgeoning responsibilities of the fiefs on their shoulders, the three men joked and drank to their merry heart’s content before Noritoshi had to be called into his groom’s chambers to change into his ceremonial robes. Leaving Naoya with Satoru, the now loose-lipped man slurred, “Do you still have the steel knife I gave you?”

The blade was strapped to his chest, the handle digging into his pecs and he nodded. “Why did you pass me that knife, Satoru-kun?”

“It will be important,” he replied and the other man hid a frown. What were Noritoshi and Satoru planning?

“After all,” the white-haired lord continued, blue eyes twinkling over his cup, “Ask and you shall receive, Naoya-kun.” He recalled how Noritoshi had asked him a vague question on the day he was to depart from the Kamo estate. Naoya, are you prepared to rule the Zen’ins?

Before he could even wrap his mind around the implications of his brother-in-law’s words, there was a loud crash that made the two men flinch.

“How dare you?!”

Recognizing the sounds of a brawl about to begin, Naoya and Satoru lurched from the seats and staggered as soberly as they could to the main halls where Kayami and Naobito were glaring at each other.

“Say that again to me, Zen’in scum!” Naoya rushed to his father and grabbed his shoulders while Satoru did the same for Kayami, the stouter man thrashing in the six-foot-three man’s hold like a rabid dog about to tear the leg of a provoker.

“How dare you sully Noriyoshi’s daughter that way!”

At the mention of his wife, Naoya’s grip faltered and Naobito leveraged on his show of weakness, surging forward. “That Kamo bitch deserved it after the little stunt your men pulled.”

A yelp and Naoya was horrified to find blood trickling down from Gojou’s nose where Kayami had lurched his head back to slam into Satoru’s face, a clear tactic to force the other man to release him. Gojou reached up to touch the swelling tissue that was bleeding down his pale chin and Naoya was left alone to hold back his father. A few men rushed forward to restrain Kayami before he could descend on Naobito, and he growled and glowered, snapping his teeth, his jowls trembling with every curse of Naobito’s name.

“Father, enough!” Naoya gritted out, but it was only when Noritoshi’s piercing voice rang out through the room did the men halt their scuffle.

“What is the meaning of this?” The Kamo liege inquired, trailing his gaze over the blood on Satoru’s cheeks, the pale expression Naoya sported and the exerted red-face of Kayami. “Explain. Now.”

Thrusting one fat finger in Noabito’s direction, Kayami’s comportment was unlike that of a dog growling in a warning. “He started goading me on Y/N-san and how she deserved to be humiliated in front of his men–he even said she should’ve been stripped in Lady Sayuri’s place.”

Naoya dropped his hold around his father’s arms, appalled at what he heard.

“Is this true, Zen’in-sama?” Noritoshi’s tone belied his impassive stance. Even if he was a brother with an overprotective streak, he was a lord before that and had to remain impartial to everyone’s reasoning.

“I merely said that after the stunt your men pulled, that I should’ve done worse than costing Lady Sayuri her face in the court.”

Before the men could get heated, Naoya stepped in and bowed his head low. “Kamo-sama, Kayami-san, I apologize for my father’s words. He must have had too much to drink and we will keep him away from the alcohol–this peace all of us garnered is far too precious to waste on drunken remarks.”

Noabito scoffed, but Kayami appeared to be reticent with his apology and pushed the other men off him. “Do not touch me.” He leveled Naobito with one frosty glare and stalked away, limping from his one lame leg. The other men murmured and dispersed under the watchful glare of Noritoshi and Naoya shot him an apologetic look, grabbing his father by the shoulder and all but dragging the older man into their chambers.

The door slammed shut but before Naoya could get a word in, a loud slap landed on his cheek, accompanied by a blow to his sternum.

Exhaling wheezily, he rushed to straighten but was dealt with another strike to his face, this last one leaving a subtle ringing in his ears.

“Stupid, impudent boy!” Naobito snarled, ignoring the look of pure aghast that Naoya wore. “Why did you apologize to those Kamo bastards? You might as well have lifted your robes and spread your cheeks for them while you were–“

“We were outnumbered,” Naoya spat, rubbing his cheek that was prickling as if bitten by fire ants. “Did you want them to slaughter us right where we stood? Was that your goal?”

Rather than thanking his only son for preserving their lives in a dangerous hearth, Naobito shot him a withering glare and pried the door wide, sliding it shut with a jarring thud that had the wooden frame trembling. Naoya exhaled the breath he did not sense he was holding, the smarting on his cheek transforming into a dull throb that had him gritting his teeth. If his skin were to bruise, the best he could hope for was the injury to not show up starkly purple on his face the next day.

As if drawn to the windows, he trailed his gaze to the hills in the distance where he could envision you doing the same—waiting for him, yearning once more to see him, and felt a strong pang in his heart.

Naoya, are you prepared to rule the Zen’ins?

He believed he knew the answer to that.

The drums pounded like the jagged beating of his heart, the lutes twanging and koto strings not half as well-tuned as the ones he was used to. The music–if it could even be called that—was making his stomach lurch. Whether it was the slight that was dealt by his father or the words he had uttered, the Kamos had cornered them by the wall, furthest away from the exit where the smoke, loud music, and raucous laughter had no option but to rebound back to them.

Paltry dishes that were set before them did little to assuage the nausea he felt, and all he did was pick at his food, a bowl of boiled chicken and wild mushrooms sitting untouched before him. Naoya had been relegated to the corner next to his father who was seated adjacent to Gojou Satoru. Sober from almost breaking his nose, Satoru did not drink, not wanting to dampen his responses in case another brawl would surface. Blending in with the side of the walls, samurais of different armored hues stood to protect their lieges. You cannot tell one color from the other, Naoya thought.

His father was in his cups, drunkenly making lewd jokes on all the servants, ribbing Gojou Satoru and once reaching out for a servant girl to brush his hand on her thigh. Naoya wanted to chastise him for his foolish behavior, but the steady soreness of his cheeks refrained him from doing so. If he wants to make a fool of himself, then so be it.

Unlike his father, Naoya preferred to keep to himself, sharp eyes on the lookout for the slightest hint of danger. The dagger felt heavy against his chest and the weight of what he had to do tonight hung over him like a dark cloud. For it was Noritoshi who pulled him aside before the wedding banquet started.

“You once told me you wanted to depose your father,” the young lord had stated. “Is that what you are planning to commence?”

Am I ready to kill my own father?

The old man would never suspect it. He would figure out that it was just a senseless brawl. In the commotion, no one would suspect Naoya plunging the knife into his father’s back—both literally and figuratively. The young lord-to-be was sickened by the constant conflict. Despite bartering for a Kamo daughter’s hand in marriage, Naobito still harbored dangerous prejudice and refused to allow any give to this conflict that had resulted in months of tension and the inability to foster ties with the young Kamo head.

Naobito was a strong and proud man who did not waver when it came to his clan’s ties, which inadvertently strained his son’s marriage to the same daughter of that rival clan, jeopardizing his only son’s efforts to remedy both his marriage and alliance with the Kamo family. This afternoon’s affairs solidified how deep-seated his father’s anger toward his wife’s relatives was, and he had to make a choice–stick with the destructive potential this prejudice could incur? Or, chart his own path of peace without his father’s outdated rule?

The answer was clear.

Noritoshi was chastely holding his wife’s hand, bringing it to his lips to plant kisses on the back of it whenever he suspected no one was looking. The room was packed and swelteringly hot despite the rain falling outside, and even on the elevated dais, lords would brush their elbows into the sides of the men next to them if they so much as lifted their glasses of sake to drink from.

Doom, doom, doom. The drums would not stop pounding. The stringing lutes and flutes grew to a cacophony, the wedding guests drunk and singing along to familiar tunes such as the Old Cherry Blossom Tree, but with the way how Kayami-san was spewing out bawdy lyric after bawdy lyric, it much befitted another classic titled the Shogun’s Nubile Concubine.

“Father, you almost spilled your drink,” he scolded and Naobito glared at his only son. He was saved from having his head clipped when Gojou Satoru inquired about the difference between regular blends and the Zen’in sake to which the old man roared, “Everything! All of you would have been drinking piss water if it were not for our generosity!”

There was a crash in the distance and one of the Gojou vassals hiccupped, standing shakily to his feet, mumbling apologies while a Zen’in samurai crinkled his expression in disgust. This was why a wedding ceremony was not allowed for Naoya; he could only imagine the brawls the Zen’ins and Kamos would be embroiled in if mounting tensions met the enhancing effects of alcohol. Another drunken man was pissing in the corner of the great hall, the unruliness of this whole scene foreign to Naoya who had been raised to always keep his wits even if he was drunk.

“Are you not hungry, Naoya-kun?” Satoru was peering at him with those winter blue eyes and he forced a half-hearted shrug.

“I am not in the mood for festivities.”

The string of the lute twanged and a familiar tune was struck up, Kayami-san gleefully clapping his hands and singing the first part of the Wicked Geisha. The man had a nice voice if he were to sing the true lyrics which were the furthest from the salacious hummings of a geisha who ran away to be with her lover.

“Is it time for the bedding?” one of his Zen’in cousins yelled and the whole halls surged with cheers.

“Bed her! Bed her! Bed her!”

Naoya winced and did not join the men in their chants to expedite the ceremony to the best part; the ceremonial bedding of the bride and groom. Noritoshi’s cheeks had gone red from the combination of drink and nerves, but he did not rebuke his men and vassals for their fun. Naoya supposes that in this instance, it was a good thing he did not have a bedding ceremony at his own wedding. He could barely imagine the horrors the onlookers would be subjected to if they heard your cries and how he had brutalized you on a night where he was supposed to be tenderly ensuring his new wife’s comfort. I still hate myself for what I did, Y/N.

“Bed her! Bed her!”

The music had changed, and he heard Jinichi groan at the tune. “I hate this song!” For it was a song that was vastly unpopular in their fiefs, a song about the Black armor of his house, made in jest for the Zen’ins and their inclinations towards alcoholic addiction.

The Black Lord spills his fourth cup of the day and mistakes his wife for the enemy. Naobito stood swaying on his feet, the cajoling of the men reaching its fever pitch, and some of them had reached out to grab Shiori Gojou by her waist, lifting her into the air where the poor girl squeaked in fear, her curtain of white hair obscuring her terror. If her half-brother had anything to say, he did not, for Naoya sensed from how little Satoru was engaging in this ceremony that he did not have any attachment to his sister that was the product of his father and a concubine.

Naoya supposes that he would react the same way. After all, unless one was purely his blood, he would not care as to what would transpire to them.

Something stirred in the young lord-to-be when he saw Ogi Zen’in whisper to one of the Kamo lords who snarled at him, “I will not pour you a drink, you Zen’in scum!”

What is happening? The drums continued on their shattering pounding and the lutes were all but frenzied screams of harpies. Jinichi went to see what the commotion was all about and was surrounded by three more of the Kamo vassals all of whom tried to subdue their drunken friend who was spewing hate towards the other man of a great clan.

And the lord found himself friendless and betrayed. Naobito frowned. “Why the hell are they playing this blasted song? It is unbecoming and an offense to us!”

Naoya noticed Noritoshi slipping into a corner and stood to follow him, the uneasiness in his soul allowing for second thoughts to creep back into his indecisive stance. The plan was to cause a brawl between one of the Zen’ins and Kamos and then stab his father. That was to the extent this madness would go… right?

But when he caught up to the other man and reached for his sleeve, he felt the hard armor underneath it. Noritoshi’s dark eyes were unfathomable, and the first scream of the night reverberated from the hall, drowned by the booming drums that reached ear-splitting decibels. Naoya looked up to find arrows flying, raining down onto the Zen’in envoy, every Gojou and Kamo vassal drawing their swords on the unsuspecting clan.

Piercing screams filled the halls. Tables were overturned, bottles went flying. His cousin roared and picked up a flask of sake to slam it onto Satoru’s head, but a quarrel entered his mouth and exited his throat.

“Kamo-kun,” Naoya snarled, unsheathing his knife, the horror coating his voice. “This was not what we agreed on!”

Noritoshi removed his own knife and glared at Naoya. “I told you we would depose your father… but I did not say how.”

Naoya surged towards him, slashing and sinking his knife into the other man’s hand, the sharp blade glinting with blood from the snatches of light the oil lamps offered. From the corner of his eye, Ogi stood and ran to the doors, gripping the handles but it would not budge. Naoya feinted and avoided Noritoshi’s strike towards his chest.

An arrow arced, sinking into Ogi’s head, the dull thud of his body falling to the ground lost in the commotion.

Naobito had taken a samurai’s katana and was fending off three Kamo men at once, still light-footed despite his inebriation.

“These are all my men,” Naoya blared loudly over the cresting music. “These are my uncles and cousins!”

Noritoshi swiped at him, nicking his cheek, and parried with a swift kick to his shin. “If you want to join them, be my guest!”

“Enough,” the young Zen’in lord begged even as his knife went into his brother-in-law’s shoulder, the younger man cussing in pain. “It was meant for my father and only him–“

“Did you think I would stop there?” Noritoshi snarled, and his knife went into Naoya’s shin, a howl of pain slipping past his lips. “Did you believe that I would not stop until only you were left? Your whole family tree is rotten; I am just doing you a favor in cutting its decomposed branches off.”

Men screamed, clashes of metal on metal and the scent of blood rushed into his nose. Gods forgive me for the sins I am to commit against my own family. Naoya dropped the knife and raised his arms in surrender. “Do not kill me, please. I still have my babies and wife to return home to.”

Noritoshi was panting, pained from the stab in his shoulder. The shallow wound in Naoya’s shin was starting to sting. “Do you swear to keep this fealty with me? Do you swear?”

“I swear,” was his fervent response. “I swear to reform it under a new rule with peace in mind.”

The Kamo liege dropped his knife as well, nodding sharply. “Then do what you must.”

Naoya swallowed, but before he could bend and pick up his own weapon, strong hands grabbed him and pinned him to the ground, a harsh grip on his hair tugging it back to expose his neck.

“Kayami—no!”

The cold steel was against his throat. So, this is how I am to meet my demise.

“Kayami, he is on our side!”

But the lord was incensed and would not listen to reason. “I do not care!”

A bubble of manic laughter slipped past his lips at how quickly a man’s loyalties could shift. Mad, he thought. I have gone mad.

Kayami did not heed if he was losing his wits, the unrestrained anger making him stone to Noritoshi’s attempts to tear him away from Naoya, the stout man disregarding his lord’s wishes in favor of quenching his anger.

No, please, not me, he thought. I haven’t even seen my babies yet–my wife, she waits for me.

The knife pierced through his skin. “This is for Kamo Kechizu, you Zeni’in scum.”

A scream of his name echeod across the bloody halls.

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy and repost

[cutegirlmayra]

Sonamy prompt! Eggman accidentally switches Amy and Sonic's powers. Amy doesn't know how to control her new speed and is afraid of causing mass destruction, running into people or worse smacking into a large surface and you know going ker splat. Sonic has to teach her how to manage her speed and Amy in turn teaches Sonic how to masterfully use her hammer nailing combos and making sure every strike lands. They come out of this with a new appreciation for the others skill set.

(Found here x not my art, just a preview image for the story)

PROMPTS ARE ON SHUTDOWN, THAT MEANS NO SEND ME STORIES, JUST DON'T DO IT, WAIT TILL THEY REOPEN. Thank you :)

Prompt:

"Whohoho!" Eggman threw his body somewhat back in the Eggmobile, crooking his arms up as he bellowed a hearty laugh while Sonic frowned with gritted teeth. "I've got a special surprise for you this time, Sonic!" he slammed his large hands onto the edge of his floating pod and gripped his fingers to their metal lining...

"Amy?" Sonic called out, looking around to see if she was here.

"Oh-ho-hoho... Not quite." Eggman leaned up, scrunching his hairy, thick mustache with his thumb and pointer finger, smug in his deceit. "I don't really require an 'incentive' anymore to get you to come here for me, Sonic The Hedgehog. A good telegram ought to suffice~" he fanned out a hand in a wildly nonchalant gesture, but Sonic just shook his head.

"No, I mean, Amy." he smirked, already knowing Eggman had hacked Tails's Miles Electric to give him his coordinates.

"...W-wha?" Eggman leaned forward before hearing footfalls behind him, slowly turning around before his mustache hair stood on end as though electrocuted by his shock at seeing her right behind him, a large hammer ready to swing...

"Ahhhh..!!!" Amy jumped up, attempting at first swing at his Eggmobile which he hurriedly gripped the two stick controls and swerved forward to dodge.

"Yiikkes!" Eggman hollered out, as Amy rotated with a forward flip in the air and tried to swing both left and right in a combo of sorts, flipping her hammer's grip from one hand to the other in expert precision.

"You're ruining our date night!" Amy cried out, bewildered by his interruption.

"You're what!? Sonic!?" He looked back after getting nicked on the side and spinning far too many times, "Why-hy-hy-hy~" he dizzily, but finally, got the Eggmobile right-side up again. He groaned as he gripped his head before his googles animatedly flew out to hone in on Sonic's innocent expression, infuriating him.

"Why, gee, Doc. I guess Amy's got her own agenda planned out first." he shrugged, before giving Eggman a cheeky grin and wink, "Guess you'll have to reschedule your 'date' for being a pain on humanity another day, eh?" he chuckled lightly to himself as Eggman fumed in heated fury in his Eggmobile.

"Evil doesn't wait..." he smirked, pulling out a corded hand-pressed button from his Eggmobile, rearing it up, "I was hoping to run further test on this before executing it on the field... but what better test subjects than a couple of hedgehogs!?" he laughed to himself as he clicked the button when Sonic sped over to Amy, catching her in mid-fall.

"Watch out!" he cried out, as Eggman positioned his Eggmobile directly over to the two in the air.

"HAHAHA! Buh-bye to your precious date night, Sonic... The Hedgehog!"

There was a great white flash...

Sonic blinked his eyes open on the ground, rubbing his head, feeling strangely... different.

He slowly got up, "A-Amy..?" He looked around.

In all honesty, he hadn't remembered that he was supposed to meet Amy just a little ways from where Eggman's location ping had sent him.

He started to gaze over the meadow, wondering why Eggman would just leave the two alone after something strange like that... but then turned to see a flash of pink.

"Amy?" It was as quick as a blink of an eye...

"-lp..!"

"H-huh?" he turned around, having heard something travel by the wind faster than he could pick up on.

His ears flicked around a second... and he bent down just a bit as he tried to listen again...

"Hel-!"

He spun around, "Amy!?" he reached out, but... no one was there... "Amy..." He lowered his hand... before something rammed into him and he was being rocketed through the air.

"HEEEELLPPPP!!!" Amy cried out, her feet on auto-run as she couldn't control all the energy propelling her forward. "AHHH!!!!"

"AHHH!!" Sonic cried out too before realizing... "Oh, this is me." he looked down at her feet, "Wait, this isn't me! What's gotten into you!?" He turned to see that his back was squished up against her arms pushing him forward through the air.

"I can't stop this thing!" she cried out, tears blasting off her eyes as her gums flapped around, making for a funny face.

Sonic's hands quickly reached back and gripped her hands, "Just hit the brakes!" he called out.

"I don't know hoooowww!!!!" Amy cried out as they suddenly were zipped into the city.

"Oh noooo..!" Sonic kicked the air, "Right, bank right, right!"

"Stop telling me what to do and tell me HOW to do!!" she hollered out as she zipped to try and dodge cars in on-going traffic. And as Sonic tried to kick in the direction she should go, he therefore leaned and with limited visibly from Sonic in the front of herself, she just trusted his movements.

"Which way is 'stop'!?" she humorously called out.

"Just... uhh..."

"YOU DON'T KNOW?!"

"I've never had to explain it before!" Sonic spoke out in his defense, "Okay, okay, just... calm down and... uhhh... drag your heels into the ground!" he nervously looked around, trying to think fast, doing the motion with his foot and looking back to her quickly before keeping his eyes on the road again.

She watched his feet, then nodded, "I'll... I'll try!" she looked worried, but tried to get control over her feet again and slammed her foot down.

"NOT THE TOES!" Sonic's eyes shriveled into fear as they were suddenly launched in the air, he folded his arms as he rotated with his legs out in front of him, widened out with an unamused look on his half-closed eyelids, "Geez, it's like trying to teach a toddler me again how to sprint..."

"Enough with the call-outs, how do I land this thing!?" Amy wiggled her arms out in the air, as Sonic grabbed her arm and gravity did the rest.

He touched ground and Amy wobbled before sighing in relief...

"That was terrifying... how do you even moderate how fast you're-" she carelessly took a step forward.

Sonic threw out his hand, "Wait-wait-wait, Don't-!"

They were bolting forward again, like a springed rollercoaster that rocketed them forward, "Use your heeeells!!!" Sonic instructed over the wind, not really bothered by the speed, but not wanting Amy to-...

His eyes widened and he let go of her, as she screamed and was somewhat comically flattened by a building's sideface...

He put a hand over his face, tucking it down as though a muted, 'offph... ouch...' but dared not say it out loud.

He squinted an eye open, "...So... You have my super-speed?" He concluded.

She slowly felt the side of the building... then began to rip her face out of the grainy brick as the folds of the building had left traces on her skin...

She glared back at Sonic.

"YOU-!" she turned and Sonic spread out his arms.

"Don't move-!" but she disappeared in a blink of an eye. "...precariously..." he flopped the arms down. Taking on a serious tone, he looked around, "Gotta find a way to trip her up without her hurting herself... or others-!" he suddenly ran to the edge of the building to look out and see cars crashing, women pulling their skirts down, and briefcases with flies upon files flying out into the air.

"Chaos." Sonic lightly used the God of Destruction's name, before shaking his head, "Hang on, is this what Eggman had intended? If Amy has my powers... then... I should have hers, right?" he looked at his hands, flexing them in and out. "Huh... okay... I see." He tried to position his body to the side, "Hammer!" he cried out, flicking his arm.

Nothing...

"Huh?" He tilted his head and looked at his hand again, up and down, then turning it over and back up. He positioned his feet again, and cleared his voice, "Hammer." he stated more firmly, and flicked out his wrist this time.

Nah-dah...

"Oh, come on..!" he narrowed his eyes as a blur of pink sped by and he heard, "OW-OW-OWWW!!!" as she knocked over a fire-hydrant that sprang up water from how fast she had ran into it.

"Amy needs me." He focused his attention back to his hand, "I can't catch her without stopping her first." He closed his eyes...

He took a deep breath...

"Ham-ER!" he was sped into as Amy held him bridal-style in her arms.

"Stop me-he-he-he!!!" she whimpered out, at her limit of speedy destruction for the day.

"I-I'm trying to-!" Sonic admitted, holding his hand out for her to see, "But I can't seem to get your hammer to come out!"

"Wha? Oh that's easy." she fanned out her hand a moment but Sonic slipped from under her and fell back below her to the side. she opened her eyes and gasped, darting back to skid over to him and pick him up again, "Oh, Sonic! Are you alright?!"

Sonic shook his head, amazed. "You... you braked!" he cried out.

"W-what?" she tilted her head, "B-but all I was thinking about was going back to get you-"

"Well, that's how you break! Muscle reflex seems to help you, just don't think about it!" he admitted, smiling to her with a thumbs up, "Just feel it!"

"Hey, that works for my hammer, too!" she excitedly stated, "You've gotta feel something strongly to bring it out-" she was cut off, keeping her eyes and head focused on Sonic, she ran off into department stores, "LOOK OUTTT!!" she cried out to the people as she was like a steam-train bolting through the windows and walls.

Sonic kept his head first to take the hit, not wanting Amy to suffer any unwanted pains from her lack of control over his super-speed. In each store, they popped out wearing a dress for Sonic and a suit for Amy from the clothes shop, donuts all over their quills, arms, and in their mouths, a tire store had Sonic rolling in a tire by his waist and Amy like a hamster in a wheel, and the last one was a jewelers that had Rouge sitting on Amy's head in her thief attire, pulling the gems off of the hedgehogs, "Thanks~" she chimed, before flying off using her wings.

"Hey!" Amy glared back at her but Sonic took her head and brought it back forward.

"Look both ways, Amy!" he cautioned as they were coming to a fork in the road.

"AHH!!! Okay, okay, right we go!" she leaned her body and successfully, although slowly turning, got them to go right before the corned edge of the fork spiked them through...

"Hey! A feeling!" Sonic held out his hand, "I wanna save ya!"

Amy blinked her eyes, looking down at him, "Sonic..."

"Eyes on the road!"

"S-sorry!" she tried to concentrate as he saw a lamppost and held out his arm.

"Heh, I'm proud of ya-! Amy!" he felt the power surge to his hand...

Amy blushed, "R-really? But I'm doing horribly!"

"Not at all!" he felt he burst trigger on his hand and gripped whatever flexed out of it, finally summoning a-!

...Small... hammer...

"W-what!?" he blinked in great confusion as the little hammer wasn't big nor long enough to even reach and wrap the crook of itself around the poll. "Shoot." Sonic grimanced, disappointed in himself. "This hammer summoning thing is a lot harder than I thought-OFFPH!" he was dropped as Amy raced over a bridge, trying to turn around. "AMY!" he called out, worried as he saw the bridge rising.

"She'll make it, but she'll go skyrocketing into the air-!" he worriedly tried to look around for a solution.

He looked at his hand, 'Saving doesn't help, being impressed wasn't enough... what emotion am I missing?'

He heard Amy cry out, "SOOONNIIICCC!!!"

He felt his care for Amy sweep through him.

His hand quaked before summoning a decently sized hammer, but he didn't even look at it, he just started swinging his arms as fast as he could, like a motorized baseball pitch that swung the bat multiple times as they kept firing out, "AMMMYYY!!"

He tilted his body and range to try and aim for her feet.

Just before the bridge rose up, he swung a hammer that hit her toes, causing her to face-plant but skid to the very... verrrryyy tip of the bridge as it now was fully up...

And she stopped.

"Phew..." he stopped throwing the hammers, having them all topple down the raised platform as Amy lifted her head up, spitting out gravel and looking behind her.

"Oh, Sonic..." Her face was red from the skid marks,... but she was alright. "You do care..."

He put a hand to his chest and rested a second, feeling the weight of all those hammer summons now. "Those things aren't easy to lug around." he admitted.

Rushing up to catch Amy as she slid down, he held her and she held him.

"Oh, Sonic..." She teared up, "I had no idea how technical your running bursts were!"

"And I had no idea how much it took just to summon a single, decent hammer!" he admitted, pulling her somewhat away from the hug to look at her. "But... I'm glad your safe and unharmed... for the most part, Amy."

The two stared sweetly into the other's eyes... before hearing the sirens and water gushing as people shrieked in the city, and looked to see all the commotion they had caused.

"Eh-heh... heh... opps?" Amy put a dainty fist up by her mouth, embarrassed by all the destruction...

Eggman then flew down by the bridge, "WHO-HO-HO-HO! Looks like my little experiment worked after all!" he clapped his hands together, then rubbed them together as he held them firmly clasped in his enthused excitement. "You've done more harm to Square City then I could even DREAM of!" he laughed out as Amy looked to Sonic and he lowered his eyelids, annoyed. "WHAHAHA! Without your super-speed, Sonic, and a measly, little girl's hammer, you'll NEVER hope to defeat me now!"

As he gloated, Amy smiled to Sonic and moved behind him, "So, you kinda have to swing, like... like this." she took his arm across the way and showed him the proper technic.

Sonic placed an anchoring arm around her waist, gesturing out the motion she was showing him, "Oh, yeah? Like this?" he already knew the idea, but was actually building small bits of intimacy... allowing her to try and teach him as he actually did see what she meant by 'honing precision through the release' as she continued to instruct him while Eggman watched with furrowed brows.

"Wait, what... what are you two talking about..?" He didn't like what he was seeing... mostly because he felt they were ignoring him. "OUI! It's not a date, here! You can't just continue to be all lovey-dovey while I'm mocking you like this!" he stomped on the top of his Eggmobile as Sonic smirked and moved Amy to his side again, his arm still around her.

"See ya, Egghead." He spun a fresh new hammer in his hand, being just... slightly bigger than the last one... and released just as Amy had taught him.

He shook out his wrist, since the hammer was still weighed, as Amy took his hand and kissed the top of his wrist, making him smile at her sweetness.

"YAHH!!!" Eggman held on for dear life as the Hammer almost knocked him over, "W-what!? Impossible!"

"Care for another?" Sonic juggled a freshly summoned hammer in his hand...

"EEEE..!" Eggman bit his nails under his gloves as he looked to see the scattered remains of ALL THE HAMMERS Sonic had previously summoned... seeing the dents in the bridge, and how some were rolling off and falling into the large river below...

He stuck only the top of his nose over the Eggmobile as his fingers gripped the edge, peering down.

"Ehem, maybe super-speed was easier than this..." he realized that with Sonic's new found power, he could easily reach him in the air...

"Alright, you win this round, hedgehog!" he pulled out his button, floated above them, and in a flash of light- "Just remember, I've still got a few tricks up my sleeve. HEHEHEHE...! This would have worked if I had done it with you and Tails..."

After the flash, the two continued their date night... by helping clean up the mess they made around the city...

Sonic never mentioned he forget the date... after all, this was the best one they had ever had!

[braindeadmaggot]

Yaay I get to ask you stuff!

2. Most hated character?

3. Favorite romantic ship with Shachi? And with Bonney?

16. If you could change one thing in One Piece (the story or the world), what would it be?

ask away sensei~ I am prepared to answer all.

BUT BEWARE ALL WHO ENTER!!

This will end up long winded and preachy just like my tags and fic comments.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

2. Most hated character?

believe it or not it’s not Blackbeard lol. I’m actually kind glad he exists and while I wish we had seen more of Thatch (it’s crazy he literally has like TWO panels in the manga and he’s super duper popular throughout the fandom, it’s so great). I hate quite a few characters, mostly because they suck or they pissed me off, but my top two are Nami and Bartholomew Kuma.

Why Nami? She’s kinda.... meh to me. Don’t get me wrong, I like that there are some normies in the plot that aren’t just naturally superhuman like Zoro and Sanji (but then we learn it’s haki and biological experimentation). Usopp’s a normie (his ammo is not), Tashigi and Kuina seem pretty normal to me (just very skilled with swords). Bartolomeo is pretty normal (he just has a janky devil fruit). I’m not really sure what it is, I had already disliked her before I discovered them diehard Nami haters (are they even still around, I never followed any of that). She was cool at first but I think the timeskip ruined her for me. Hard to explain. Hatred for Nami 7/10.

Bartholomew Kuma........ Kuma Kuma Kuma. Where the fuck do I start with this? I’ve had blow ups with Cyriusli about this a few times whenever his ass popped back up in the story line or in rando memes. I didn’t mind him in Thriller Bark, thought he was a good add-in to the whole ‘fuck around and find out’ bits. I love the memes of Zoro figuring out that his sacrifice was pointless because Kuma wasn’t really going to kill his boss’ son. Those are hilarious! It was during the time skip when we learned about Kuma, about him being a Revolutionary, when Ivankov got mad in the flashback, when we saw him guarding the Sunny, when he was a slave to the Celestials. It actually took me a couple of years and some talks with Cyriusli until I realized that Kuma planned all of this. How I didn’t notice before I have no clue, but everything he did, he did just full intention. He made deals with Vegapunk to experiment on him (consent), he sent the Straw Hats to islands that were perfect for their growth (you think he knew Sanji hated okama or was he just thinking “oh this boy is a cook, Iva-chan has all these amazing recipes he made for us before, this young cook will benefit from this” and just sent Sanji’s homophobic ass off to Twirling Heart Island. I also think he knew full well about Zoro’s plans to fight Mihawk so that must have been a last attempt at being a troll before becoming a mindless drone). And his last wish before losing all control was to protect the Sunny. What the serious fuck Kuma? How are you benefiting from this?? This is where I get mad. Why didn’t you tell Ivankov and Inazuma (oh btw I ship KumaZuma)? Why the lies? Why the deceit? Who are you trying to protect? I asked all these questions and thought of something.

NEW THEORY: He sent Franky to one of Vegapunk’s abandoned labs... He sent Franky to learn ALL ABOUT Vegapunk’s experiments. Bastard is banking on Franky being able to turn him back. That’s what it is. At first maybe he didn’t see a way out, but then he saw Franky and the Sunny at Thriller Bark, and of course he follows the news and learned about the new crewmate, he knows what Franky’s capable of. He finally agreed to Vegapunk’s terms and gave up, hoping the Straw Hats might save him. Now that’s a huge gamble but we all know Franky is a man of honor and might volunteer to do it. My hatred for Kuma went from 10/10 to 8/10, but I still don’t like him.

3. Favorite romantic ship with Shachi, or Bonney?

ho ho ho, before I got into KilGuin I was shipping Penguin with Shachi, and Killer with Bonney. I think the whole KilBon came from some old fanart when we were first introduced to the Supernova and also the fact that his fave food is pasta, and her fave food is pizza. I just imagined them owning an Italian resto together and said that’s the ship, done. Not the case anymore because I see Bonney as more of a lesbian or bisexual, but cares more about food than sex so it is was it is with her. I shipped Penchi because I liked the idea of them being childhood friends and they share a room in the sub and while they might not be exclusive to one another, they do often do dirty stuff together as a mutual “I scratch your back you scratch mine” kinda thing but they’re too close and too stupid to admit any real romantic feelings to the other. But they’re fine, they go to brothels together and dabble in the occasion threesome. [These are very old ideas, not sure if I’ll continue this when I write my monster fic.]

16. If you could change one thing in One Piece (the story or the world), what would it be?

As mentioned earlier I would have liked to see more of Thatch and who he was as a person. It’s confirmed that he’s a chef but I think we all deserve to see his talents showcased. Also how he interacted with the crew. Lot’s of fics and art depict him being super childish and playing pranks with Ace, making fun of Marco (aka Whitebeard’s parrot lol), and dancing with Izou. I love how the fandom made him into a real person but I crave to see him in official work.

I’d also like to see passed villains come back to the main plot. We see Foxy come back twice in fillers and in some movies, Crocodile came back in Impel down, Buggy is always around the lovable idiot. But I want to know more about Morgan and Klahadore, where did they go? What about Don Krieg? Did Mihawk chop him up and dump his body? What about Gin? We see Gin so much in fanfic, even in new released fics but he’s not been back since in the manga. What will happen if Morgan and Helmeppo meet again? Jango became a marine and I bet Morgan became a pirate lol.

SPOILERS: I think Eneru should make an appearance again with the happenings in the latest chapters.

In the world? Not sure... I theorize gravity is lower on OP Earth than ours, just by a little bit. Just enough to make us jump higher and fall slower but not affect our health too much, as the atmosphere will thin out a bit and it will be more difficult to breathe. (I imagine someone from our world would die if they go to Skypiea). (I was really excited to see this visualized in the new film Bubble, it’s on Netflix if you want to watch it~) so if this isn’t the case then i would change it to this.

My SO theorizes that the Void Century is like the missing history here in the Philippines. When the Spaniards came, they stayed for 333 years and they destroyed a lot of indigenous landmarks, tribes and nearly erased our mythology. There’s a lot that has been lost but luckily the Spanish didn’t go everywhere (we got over 7000 islands). It’d be cool if this was the inspiration (also Gray Terminal’s pollution is based on Manila).