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vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 1 year ago

Text

With Them, Who Swallowed a Star

PAIRING: Professor!Task Force 141 X F!Student!Reader WORD COUNT 5.3k CONTENT WARNING: NSFW! group sex, age gap, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, facefucking/blowjobs, unprotected sex, p in v, anal sex, slight usage of nicknames, reader is a pianist/student, tf141 are professors, smut with plot SYNOPSIS: A musician is a storyteller in their own ways. You had told yours and captured the sights of men you never expected to pull when you stepped inside an academy. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I tried to be poetic. This fried my brain and I'm not going to write something like this again. That's a lie because I have a series that has 5 love interests. This one was supposed to have Graves as well since he's actually my inspiration for writing this shit, but I ended up not adding him. I might do it on Drabbles if someone asks though. And yes, I have changed my username from DontFearTheReaperAzura. Here's the Masterlist for more! Also on Archive of Our Own

Your fingers fluttered slightly as you lifted your hands to the keys, blocking out the rustling from others as they sat in the grand auditorium. Long and drawn, you began to tell a tale you had held for a long time. Notes swam in the air, old friends that played with your tresses and caressed your skin.

The story started slowly, the sound of the beginning, the beginning of the end. Longing clashed with trepidation, your fingers sang a song of despair. You swayed with the music, lost in the whims of unspoken words—of a world you owned. Quicker and quicker, the notes climbed in sync with your heart, growing joyful in hopes of masking the mournful melody surrounding you.

It filled the emptiness deep within your chest for a moment, before like the heavens shed tears upon a barren land, you showed—you poured out the lore of your world, and with heavy reluctance to leave what you created, you played the last few notes.

For a few moments, you kept your eyes closed, and when a series of claps reached your ears, only then you opened them. You were shackled back to reality just as you held back your work.

You looked at the people, who in your eyes were nothing but shadows at the beginning, now enamored, yearning for the rest. You knew they felt it, too. Pulled, as though you were the center of the system. Like the Sun, a star.

And one man stuck out more than others, gazing at you, blue eyes almost ravenous. But it didn’t last for long, just like a song in the wind, he faded among the standing crowd, drowned out in the flurry of praise.

You breathed out a sigh as you stared at the towering structure before you, now your second hell—in replacement of the ramshackle place you call home—after you had gotten a scholarship to this prestigious university after years of a couple of years of working your ass off. Students rushed past you on their way in and out of their classes, but you stood frozen.

Suddenly you felt awfully unprepared for this unfamiliar place, of socializing and strangers, and of university. Of life. What did Google say about socializing with people your age again? How about impressing a professor? Good lord.

You shrugged off your thoughts and sauntered to your class. A large lecture hall welcomed your sight and you found an empty seat at the front row. Not the perfect place for observation of the whole place, but good for listening to the professor.

The sound of expensive shoes echoed throughout the hushed room and you kept your eyes down as you took out your notebook and pen. As the quiet dragged on, you glanced at the professor and found your brows raising at his sight.

He was tall, seemed to be fit, and in his thirties. He had a few wrinkles, a beard, and brown hair, but no sign of graying.

Above all, you could remember those eyes. An endless swirl of blue. The man at the concert hall.

You put your gaze down as the professor looked down on you, your heart hammered against your ribs, sudden nervousness springing in your nerves. You wished he wouldn’t recognize you, but at the same time, you hoped he did.

Yet, the silence remained, and in curiosity, you looked back up. Your breath hitched as your eyes met his, gaze shining with something you couldn’t decipher, and a smile formed on his lips.

You forced yourself to mirror it and batted a glance at the door. You wanted to get out.

The professor introduced himself as Jonathan Price, and told the class a few things about himself, before diving straight into the first lesson of Philosophy.

Time seemed to flow fast throughout his class and you kept your fingers busy, writing down his words. He was easy to understand, bringing out intricate details in his lesson, and asked questions now and then if he was going too fast while walking around the room.

You couldn’t help but notice his slacks fit in a certain area. Then again, that thing wouldn’t give you a brain cell even if you suck it off.

The bell chimed and you gathered and stuffed your notebook and pen inside your bag, jolting up to your feet. But as you approached the exit, his canorous voice called out to you.

“Pardon me, young lady.”

You turned to face the professor, keeping a respectable distance from him, which he closed off, only standing a couple of feet from you.

“Yes, sir?” You asked in a small voice when he remained silent, his eyes studying you with disconcerting intensity, just like how he gazed at you at your performance.

Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, he asked. “What’s your name?”

You spoke of your name in a steady voice, equally confused and intimidated, you gripped on the strap of your bag. Everyone had already left, now bringing quietness to the hall.

He smiled once again, his head tilting a bit to the side. “A pretty name.” His voice sent goosebumps on your skin, making you breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of his pleasant cologne. “Such a shame I couldn’t catch it after your performance a couple of weeks ago.”

He remembered you.

Your cheeks began to burn.

Oh, how he yearned to caress your tinted cheeks, place a kiss on them, and mutter praise against your soft skin.

“Ah, you were there, weren’t you, sir?” You offered him a smile and a pause. “I think I caught a glance of you in the front rows.”

“Correct.”

“Thank you for watching, sir,” you said, not knowing what to speak of next, and nodded at him, reaching out to the knob to leave. But he reached for the door, making you blink at his unexpected actions, caged between the door and him.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” he fessed, bodies now closer to yours that you almost touched, and you gulped. “You were magnificent.” He opened the door, a hand motioning at you. “See you on Wednesday. And I hope we see more of your performance.”

We?

You jolted awake at the loud laughter of a raucous group outside of your room and grunted at the sudden pang of pain in your head when you stood up. You glanced at the alarm clock by your bedside and muttered a crisp curse, hauling your bag. You burst out of your room, slipping past students in the hallway like a breeze, hurried apologies were called out to those poor victims she bumped into.

The morning had been long and tiring, and you decided to take a nap earlier, only to end up sleeping for a couple of hours. Now, you were about to get late for your next class, and the usual ten-minute walk turned into a five-minute run and an uncalled exercise.

You glanced from left to right in the hallway, glancing at your phone to make sure you were in the right building, and turned to the right, following the signs. You halted before a room, strangely closed even though the class was supposed to start in five minutes.

You used your phone as a mirror and patted down your hair, before turning the knob and opening the door. You walked into a softly lit room and realized the mistake you had made as you spotted a man splayed down on a couch across the room. A hand behind his head and over his stomach, and over the lower half of his face was a black mask.

Inside was a personal office, belonging to one of the professors.

You immediately turned away, about to exit the room when an angry voice echoed.

“Have you got no manners?” The man rose to sit, a scowl painted on his face.

For the nth time in your sorry life, you wanted to bury yourself alive. You dipped your head low in embarrassment. “I’m very sorry, sir. I thought this was the room my class was in. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You frantically fumbled on your phone, inputting the wrong password one time, and read your schedule.

You read the room number wrong.

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

The professor fixed his crooked mask. “What class were you supposed to go to?”

“Uh, a math class of Mr. Simon Riley,” you read on your phone, keeping your head low.

A hum escaped past the man’s lips, making you glance up at him. His dark blond hair slightly ruffled from his apparent nap and coat a bit crooked. He ran his hand on his hair, fixed his coat, and patted down the invisible wrinkles on the fabric.

He stood up and you inched back, surprised at his stature. A tall man with broad shoulders and arms noticeably strong, (massive honkers) and eyes like a pool of honey, swirling like molten gold under the light.

“You’re in luck, sweetheart. I’m Simon Riley. You’re in my office, our class is in the next room.” Unlike earlier, his cold voice had turned a bit softer, but the fact that he was your professor made your sweat run cold.

You nodded, inwardly wincing at your dumbass. “Again, I apologize, sir.”

He stood before you, next to the opened door. Gladly, there were no students passing by in the hallway.

“What is your name, love?” he questioned, his hands going to his pockets. His eyes narrowed at the way your head dipped, refusing to meet his gaze. Like a meek little bunny, scared of the world and what all those pretty eyes could see.

He wanted to place a finger under your chin and lift your face up to look at him.

You never knew introducing yourself could feel like an interrogation until now. You told him your name, averting your gaze down at his shoes that shifted slightly. “Nice to meet you, Sir Riley. I’m sorry it wasn’t under the best circumstances.”

He hummed once again and stepped out of the office. “Pleasure’s all mine."

You followed him out of the room and he swiftly closed the door behind you, his being a bit closer to you than comfort.

With a nod, Professor Riley led you to the classroom. Dozens of students had already occupied the room and you silently made your way to a vacant seat on the second row, placing your bag next to you.

Just like Mr. Price, the masked professor went straight to the point, briefly introducing himself to the crowd, and began his lesson. He, too, was easy to understand, repeating the equations some couldn't get well, and was kind enough to let the class take a few minutes of break, before continuing. You had also come to notice he would fix his mask every once in a short while.

And when the bell chimed, he bid his students goodbye, yet called for your name. You halted on gathering your things as he approached you. His eyes glanced at the students who last left the room before he spoke.

"Feel free to come by my office whenever you have a question or need anything. Can't have you lose your way again, do we?" He asked, a bit of amusement in his voice as he leaned close.

You smiled at his offer. "Thank you, sir."

Sure as shooting, you asked him where your next room was for Chemistry. By good fortune, he knew where it was and who the professor would be.

"Ah, there he is." Sir Riley abruptly came to a stop, making you halt in your tracks as well and follow the direction of his gaze, to see a man with a mohawk.

"Simon!" The man jogged towards the two of you, a grin playing on his lips in contrast to the man who never took off his mask. Another person with blue optics, but his were bluer as though someone took a piece of the briny deep and placed it in his optics.

He kept a smile as his attention swept to you. "And who's the little bird?"

You frowned a bit at the nickname, nonetheless gave him your name, and watched his eyes light up with fascination. The man began to tell the pull he felt by the notes of your music, how enamored he was by the unspoken words of your tale.

He was there, too and Sir Riley was along with them.

Your face flushed as he ranted and they both noticed, taking note of the shades painted on your skin, bashful of the sudden recognition.

"He is John Mactavish, your Chemistry professor," Sir Riley piped in, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, before bidding his farewell at the moment, marching down to his next class.

Left all alone with Professor Mactavish, you turned to him. He grinned at you and he beckoned at you to follow him. The man was, well, talkative and wasted not a second expressing his applause of your performance and how he never expected to see you in the university.

You could only mutter small words and nod, already feeling exhausted. But it was pleasant to hear him compliment you. You could get used to it.

And you could get used to his enthusiasm for teaching. His first lesson went straight to an experiment and dragged you to his side as his assistant, instructing you to mix chemicals. Occasionally, his fingers brushed over yours as you passed vials.

Your eyes met, and sparks flew all around.

Literal spark.

And fire.

Professor Mactavish pulled you to the side, hand remaining on your arm as the chemicals were set ablaze.

With a couple of ticks of the clock, a giggle erupted from your lips and like there was a pull, his chuckles followed.

In the sea of awes, his laughter floated on the surface.

You sprinted on the hall, navigating through the winding routes of the structures, and arrived at one of the most exquisite auditoriums you had ever set eyes on. Your eyes took in the magnificent chandeliers and the divine paintings stretched across the ceiling.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled you from your stupor.

“Are you just going to stand there?” a voice called for your attention to where he stood near the stage. The man basked in the warm glow of the concert hall, skin as though molten caramel, and eyes like embers.

“Oh, forgive me, sir.” You straightened yourself up like a soldier before a superior. “I was just, well, this place is beautiful.” You couldn’t help but glance around once again.

“Isn’t it?” A soft smile crawled its way to his lips and he approached you. “I am Mr. Garrick and you are . . .” your name rolled out of his tongue like a serenade, gentle to the ears, a sight to see the way his lips moved, and he extended a hand to you.

You clasped it gently before realization dawned on you. “Pardon me, Garrick as in the Kyle Garrick?”

In a flash of a moment, something sparkled in his eyes and searched yours. “Yes, it is me.”

You nearly squealed and ran around the room in excitement. “Oh my God. Wow. I-I’m a huge fan, sir. You were such a huge inspiration to me—and, and, I wished I could have watched your performance at the concert before, but I was busy preparing for mine. Oh, that must be why Mr. Price, Mr. Riley, and Mr. MacTavish were there! You are friends!” Your words tumbled out of delight.

"Yes, well, thank you for the kind words." His hand sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, his smile becoming wider.

You gazed at him for a few moments before you snapped out of it, your brain slapping it to your face that you just rambled in front of this gentleman. "I'm very sorry, that was unprofessional of me."

"No need for apologies. But I do want to get a feel of your play today as soon as possible." A hand landed on your back, his warmth slipping through the fabric as he led you towards the grand piano patiently waiting for you at the stage.

Your fingers itched in anticipation.

Sir Garrick gave you a comforting smile and sat on the front row seat. "Feel free to play whatever your heart desires."

What your heart desires.

With a shaky breath, once again, you began to tell a tale, the notes sounding like a human voice as it wove its sonorous song.

A ballad to tie what dream your heart made. An andante at first and increased tempo at each heartbeat.

Lightning striking and thunder howling, Kyle was consumed with the way you swayed from one note to another. He couldn't peel his eyes off you as though you had him in your grasp, a puppet for you to control. And only when the last of the music hung in the air, could he snap free of the strings.

He walked towards you and dropped to his knee, taking one of your hands in his palm. "You were truly astonishing."

"I'm telling you, she was marvelous," Kyle exclaimed, pacing around Price's office and pointing at his fellow professors. "Blimey, if only you guys were there the other day, you'd feel chills."

Simon kept a straight face as he sat on the couch, legs spread, his knees bumping with Johnny who took a seat beside him, sipping from his mug of coffee. Whilst, Jonathan inclined on his chair behind a mahogany desk, decorated with intricate carvings and souvenirs he had gathered as they traveled across continents.

"I get that you're delighted, but could you quiet down?" Price grumbled on his desk, a pang of pain shooting his head.

"No, I am not shutting up." Kyle raised a hand, shaking his head. "She recognized my name. My name.” He pointed at himself.

“Anyone would recognize your name if they’re yer fan or hater,” Johnny quipped and placed the mug down on the coffee table.

Kyle turned to him. “You don’t get it, mate. She said she’s a fan of mine. I was a huge inspiration to her—”

“Was a huge inspiration to her,” Simon echoed, leaning back against the couch. “Used to be, not anymore.”

Kyle glared and stomped towards the masked man, grabbing his collar when the other merely raised his brows in a challenge. “I swear to God, Simon, I swear to—”

“I swear to God if you three don’t shut the fuck up—” Price paused, straightening himself from his chair as Kyle shook Simon, and glared at them— “I’ll have you asinine blokes chopped into bits!”

Kyle let go of Simon, who simply fixed his crooked collar and tie, and raised a brow at the man behind the desk. He sat down on a vacant chair, his eyes not leaving Price, and asked, “Are you jealous she recognized me, Price?” he was answered with another glare, which he shrugged at. “Or not.” He definitely is.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, each lost in their train of thought. All centered on a certain lady, whom they had watched from afar, now within their grasp. They only acted as though it was their first time meeting you.

Each born to a wealthy family, presented interesting things which soon died down as they broke them down into pieces, they had grown bored. And had found that there were only a few they could put their trust in this world. Though not related by blood, they shared everything since they were younger. They knew one another strengths and weaknesses. Their faults. Their passions.

Their desires.

A knock pulled them out of their reveries.

Johnny being the closest to the door, got up and opened it. A smile was brought to his face as he found you. “Hello, bonnie. C’mon in.” He swung the door open, a hand motioning at you.

You hesitantly stepped in as you saw your professors inside the office, eyes all settled on you. You put a hand on your other arm to hold down your nervousness as the door behind you shut.

Four men who were strangely overly friendly to you. You could think of a couple of reasons. The first being a musician they had watched and the second, being their student.

A hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you further in, making your face flush. “Have a seat,” Sir MacTavish waved a hand at the sofa, where he and Simon sat.

You kept your gaze low as you obeyed him, sitting between him and your math professor, red cheeks going in a deeper shade as you met Kyle’s gaze. Embarrassed, you finally faced Price, and asked, “What is it that you called me for, Professor?”

Price put his elbows over his desk and intertwined his fingers. “We have a proposition for you . . .” Your name rolled sensually out of his tongue.

The proposition was to be their assistant. Given their overlapping schedules these days, it was hard for them to handle them. At first, you refused the offer, telling them you had a part-time job to do, along with practicing your skills in piano. But they had already thought about that and said they could pay you for your work.

A tempting proposal. Perfect for a student like you who got into this prestigious school through a scholarship.

You tapped your pen on the table and heaved a sound sigh, slouching on the chair. You were in a cafe near the school, in an attempt to change the atmosphere and help you write a report for Sir MacTavish's and Sir Price’s classes, but it didn’t seem to be helping at the moment. A pleasant music came from your earphones to block out the background noises and you closed your eyes to lull yourself.

When you opened your eyes, you jolted up your seat. “Shit!” your hands immediately flew to your potty mouth and straightened your spine at the sight of one of your professors, Simon, across the table. “Ah, uh, I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t notice you—”

“Why do you apologize so often?” his rough voice was low and he placed a cup of tea on the table. His eyes landed on your notebook, full of notes, written clean as though it was printed.

You pursed your lips, unable to think of an answer, and ran your tongue over the soft flesh, catching Simon’s attention. “I . . .”

Simon glanced around the empty cafe, the only other person within the area was the staff over the counter, who kept her eyes on her phone. And you had perfectly picked a secluded spot. He looked back at you and reached out a hand, placing it under your chin. He lifted your face to bring your eyes to his.

Your heart raced at his actions.

“An angel as brilliant as you are should carry yourself with confidence, sweetheart.” His thumb caressed your lips. “Perhaps, we could teach you that.”

Your lips parted at his touch, warmth pooling at your stomach. You knew this was strange—wrong, and yet you didn’t want him to stop.

But he let go and leaned back, and you found yourself gripping on your thigh. “Have you thought of our proposal last week?”

You nodded, clearing your throat. “I have, sir.”

“What do you say?”

“The offer is good, and I don’t think it will clash with my schedule under normal circumstances, either.” You paused, letting him wait for your answer as you gazed into his caramel eyes. “I’ll take it, professor.”

You were fond of puzzles. You were interested in mysteries. And you were drawn to danger.

Being their assistant had more perks than you initially thought it was. You talked with them about their terms and added some of yours, and they seemed to be pretty considerate about it.

Maybe, a bit too much.

You had moved to an apartment they got you, so you wouldn’t be distracted by your roommates. When you had breaks, they would call you to their offices and give you desserts and snacks.

And more often than not, their touches lingered, turning into hugs, caressing, and pinching when in private. To close, seemingly the start of a taboo, a risk, and yet when Professor Price had you pinned between him and Professor Garrick in his office one late night when most of the people at school had gone home, you didn't want them to stop.

You wanted the heat to rush over you, like a forest fire, unwavering.

Didn't pull back when he planted his lips on you. Didn't stop the very professor you looked up to as a musician to bunch up your skirt and grind his dick against your ass. Didn't stop even when the other two entered and Sir Price had his hand rubbing against your clothed cunt. Didn't stop when Professor Riley locked the door behind him as Sir Mactavish joined in.

Johnny’s snaked a hand around your waist, a bit harsher than the ones he’d always done, but you didn’t mind it. Not when his lips were gentle against yours, patient and exploring as he led you on his lap when he sat on your couch, stealing you from Price and Garrick. He drank on your gasp as you felt another pair of lips on your nape, dusting kisses along your flesh.

Simon breathed against your shoulder, hand grasping the swell of your breast and performed maddening massage that got your nipples pebbling under the fabric of your top. You flinched when he took them by fingers, the rolls languid, and shifted on the other man’s lap as you felt a poke underneath.

Johnny groaned against you, parting the breathtaking kiss. He removed you from his lap, only to turn you against him, now facing the professor who had shed his mask. His fingers dipped under the band of your panties, into your untouched bud and your wet folds. He rubbed with a hum, spreading your filth.

“You're so wet, hen,” he commented and inserted a digit, rubbing it against your slick walls.

Your teeth sunk to your lower lip, biting back a squeal at the sudden intrusion.

Simon placed his fingers under your chin and leaned down on you, his tongue running over your lips, something he had always wanted to do before. “Don't bite your lips. That's something we're supposed to do, yeah?” He whispered on your lips and explored your mouth, savoring the echoes of your pleasure, and left to plant his marks on your collarbones. Hands gathered your shirt and lifted it, exposing your chest to his sight.

His mouth dropped to the nipple, sucking while his hand went to work on the other.

Johnny began to pump faster, making you throw your head back to his chest, moaning out in pleasure as you shot a glance at other professors.

“You are not so innocent after all, hm?” Price took your jaw and ran his thumb over your lips, before pushing it in, muffling your cries.

“No one's that innocent nowadays, Price,” Garrick remarked, watching the frown on your face and the flutter of your lashes at every jerk of Johnny's hand made and Simon’s tongue did. His tongue ran over his lips, hand cupping over his hard-on, palming himself through his pants.

You began to suck on Price’s finger, making his dick twitch in his pants—his brain wondering how good your mouth would feel around him. He pulled his hand away to work down on his belt and pants, hands pulling out his shaft. He gave it a few pumps, chuckling when he noticed the way your tongue ran over your swollen lips before a groan escaped from it as Simon planted a bite on your neck and Johnny's thumb began to work on your clit.

Price brought his tip to your mouth. “Open up, dove,” he demanded and grunted as he pushed his shaft in, breath hitching at the warm feeling of your tongue and your throat. Your face twisted a bit at the taste of his precum. He let you adjust for a couple of seconds, hand going to the back of your head before he began to thrust.

One of your hands flew to hold onto his hip as you let him use your mouth, eyes fluttering closed and focusing on breathing through your nose. Out of the blue, Johnny pulled his fingers out and Simon stepped away, eliciting a whine from you. Vibrations ran down Price’s body and he groaned.

Unbuckling of belts echoed in the air, and you were pulled away from Price, making him curse. The next thing you knew, you were staring into the eyes of the man you had admired for so long.

“Sir—”

Kyle put his thumb over your lips, cutting off your words. “Not sir. Call me Kyle.” He positioned his cock under your cunt, rubbing the tip on your entrance.

You gasped at the sensation. “Kyle . . .” Your jaw slacked as he slowly went in, hands pulling you closer to his clothed body, fingers running on your flesh, gentle just as how he played his instruments.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, hands sliding down to your ass to guide you up and down on his length.

Now, he made music out of you.

It didn’t take a few ticks of the clock until they fucked you with all they had.

Simon’s cock was buried in the confines of your mouth, fingers tangled on your tresses, watching the curls of your lashes get soaked by the tears that rolled down on your cheeks as they relentlessly pounded on you—Kyle on your pussy, Price on your ass, and Johnny on your grasps. You had never felt so full, so complete.

You feel your legs shake—the sign you have reached the pinnacle of pleasure and exhaustion when Kyle hits the spot deep in you. You whined against Simon’s cock, groaning as beg for the overdue orgasm that they had been keeping from you.

You felt a hand slide down your thigh, finding your swollen clit, before the rough pads of the fingers rubbed aguishly gentle and slow. If they weren’t your professors, you would have cursed at whoever the one was doing it. But your wish had been heard and he picked up the pace until you were crying, arching your back.

But they weren’t done.

You felt Kyle and Price become rougher at each of their thrust, Simon tugging on your hair harder, and Johnny losing his rhythm on your hands, until they all pulled back, coating your skin with their cum.

You slumped on Kyle’s chest, limbs like a stringless puppet as you ride out the aftermath of your orgasm. Your heavy lids fell close, tired from the deed, but you fought back the drowsiness, not wanting to fall asleep in the state you were in.

“You did good, love,” Kyle cooed into your ear and planted a soft kiss on your temple.

Johnny leaned down and pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “Yer amazing, bonnie. Can’t wait to have more of ya.”

A hand caressed your flushed cheek, swiping the transparent mix of tears and sweat. “Let’s bring you back to your apartment, dove,” Price said in a gentle voice.

Gentle fingers scraped your scalp, gaining a hum from you, must be Simon with how his fingers feel on your head. An unspoken apology about the way he tugged on your locks.

Like the sky glowing, your skin glittered in the ruins they drew up. A masterpiece you were, vulnerable, vincible in their sight, like walls that had fallen. And yet as though a book which held thousands of words, they still had more things to know about you.

Like every start of a relationship. How fortresses were made. Each beginning of a story.

You basked in the echoes of their praise, letting their words bring you comfort and slowly help you regain your mind and strength.

Like after a fire, new maps were drawn. A new tale was written, with them, who swallowed a star.

Taglist: @itsyellow

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daisynik7 · 1 year ago

Note

hi nikki, congratulations on 2k! it's so deserved <3

for your event, can I request sk8er boi by avril lavigne with nanami specifically "he was a punk, she did ballet" + fluff

thank you <3

Sk8er Boi

He was a punk, she did ballet, what more can I say?

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

cw: fluff, modern day au, no curses au, college au, reader is a ballet dancer, Nanami is a musician and a skaterboarder

Summary: You’ve had a crush Kento Nanami ever since you first saw in him your class, dressed in the typical skater boy attire with baggy jeans and flannel shirt wrapped loosely around his waist. You don’t ever expect to cross paths any further until you find out that he’ll be performing as part of the orchestra for your spring recital. Soon, you learn that the two of you, despite your seemingly obvious differences, are more compatible than meets the eye.

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request @75songs and for always supporting my Nanami content, I appreciate you so much! This is such a fun song for the y2k karaoke party, I really had a blast writing it. I did a bit of research on ballet, so to any/all my ballet dancers on here, I apologize if I got any details completely wrong or inaccurate! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated, thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy! Divider credit to @/saradika.

You’re drawn to Kento Nanami from the start, ever since you first lay eyes on him spring semester of your junior year in Music Appreciation. It’s a small class, no more than thirty people in the lecture hall early morning on a Monday. It’s not uncommon for students to travel around campus on a longboard or skateboard, but when you notice Nanami put his on the rack, donned in ripped baggy jeans, white tee, and a blue checkered flannel wrapped around his waist, you can’t help holding your gaze on him a little longer than necessary. As a dance major, with a concentration in ballet, you’re used to your classes being filled with the same people you’ve been with since freshman year. So, when you spot someone new, someone different, it sparks your interest. There’s nothing wrong with admiring from afar, right?

Two months pass of you crushing on him in secret, sneaking glances during lecture, your heart skipping a beat whenever you spy on him outside of class either in the library or cafeteria. You would have never expected your paths to actually cross in March, when your troupe prepares for the spring recital. Mei Mei, your ballet master, instructs you all to gather at the main theater on campus to meet the orchestra, who will be performing the music for the concert. To your pleasant surprise, Nanami is among the ensemble, carrying a bass clarinet in his hands.

“This is our grand orchestra for this spring’s recital,” Mei Mei introduces. “They are some of the finest musicians in the city. Some of them are even your fellow peers here from the university. I expect you all to show them your utmost respect and gratitude for volunteering their time to make this concert spectacular.”

You give them a round of applause, eyes flickering to Nanami, wearing his usual skater boy attire. His gaze meets yours, and he smiles, giving you a small wave. Heat rushes into your cheeks, tummy fluttering nervously, flustered by the fact that he’s acknowledged you. You search around, trying to see if it’s someone next to you that he’s waving at instead, but neither of your neighbors seem aware of him. When you look back, his attention is elsewhere, and the moment passes as quickly as it occurred.

The following Monday, you’re early as usual to class. You set up your laptop and take the extra time to people watch, especially eager to see one particular person. He arrives to the lecture hall with about three minutes to spare, placing his skateboard on the rack. Today, he’s in a black V-neck with a familiar logo on his chest, his collarbones barely visible. You expect him to take his usual spot on the other side of the room, a few rows ahead. When he walks towards you, beelining to the empty seat on your left, you’re dumbfounded, hastily collecting yourself as he asks, “Is this taken?”

You shake your head, attempting a smile, unable to coherently forms words into a proper response. He murmurs a soft, “Thank you,” before sitting down, retrieving his laptop to set in front of him. The professor still hasn’t arrived, and for the first time, you’re actually wishing they would to offer a distraction from this unusual situation.

Nanami clears his throat, turning to face you. “We haven’t properly met yet. I’m Kento Nanami. I recognized you the other day from class. I’m excited to see your performance for the spring recital.”

You introduce yourself, too nervous to meet his gaze, instead focusing on his neck, which only flusters you further. “I’m excited to hear your performance as well. Are you a music major?”

“Yes, music education to be more precise. I want to be a music teacher.”

You smile, relaxing a bit with the easy flow of conversation. “What a coincidence. I want to be a ballet teacher.”

His expression brightens. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Wow,” he muses, eyes twinkling at you.

Maybe it’s just in your head, but there’s a spark. And when the professor finally arrives, you wish you could take back what you thought earlier, because now, you want nothing more but to be distracted by Nanami.

~~~

Since that day, you and Nanami talk with each other every chance you get. Before lecture, on the way to your next class, the few minutes until practice starts, and even after, as he walks you to your on-campus apartment with his skateboard tucked under his arm. You learn that he plays a variety of instruments, including bass clarinet, drums, even a little bit of piano. His true passion is bass guitar, which he plays for his band Black Flash. As if you could like him any more than you already do, the thought of seeing him up on a stage, fingers working nimbly on the strings, slapping a riff with that smooth expression on his face does wonders to your heart. You’re shy every time he compliments your dancing, waving him off to say that you still have work to do to improve your technique, make your moves cleaner, more precise. Still, he continues to praise you, in awe of your flexibility and gracefulness. Sometimes, you’ll catch him staring at you from the pit when Mei Mei pauses the music to focus on a certain movement.

A week before the recital, Nanami waits for you after practice to collect your belongings. You forgot to mention to him earlier that you’ll be staying behind to break in your new pointe shoes, a process that takes a while. “Just go ahead without me,” you tell him.

He lingers while you sit down on the stage, a hard mat in front of you, unboxing your shoes. “What are you doing?”

“Pointe shoes are very stiff, so I have to break them in before I can dance in them properly,” you explain.

“What do you mean ‘break in’?” He peers at you with a curious expression on his face, kneeling down to sit beside you.

You smile at him, clapping your shoes together to create a loud noise. “Hear how hard these are? I’m going to bash them against this mat to soften them up.”

“Bash them?”

“Yup. Like this.” You proceed to smash the sole against the mat repeatedly, enjoying how Nanami gapes at you, shocked. You giggle at him, handing him the other half. “You can help me with this if you want. It’s a nice form of stress relief, right?”

He reaches into his pocket for his phone. “Sounds like a good opportunity to play some music.”

You scoot closer to him. “You should play something by Black Flash,” you request, smirking at him.

“Really? You want to hear something from us?”

“Absolutely.”

He smiles at you, a subtle blush surrounding his cheeks. “Okay.”

For the next half hour, you whack your shoes to the beat of the music, listening carefully for the smooth bass, knowing it’s Nanami. He watches you test them out with Black Flash still playing in the background, stretching and swiveling in them to mold to your feet properly. Usually, you’re alone or with your troupe doing this, and it’s as uneventful as you’d imagine. But with Nanami, this ordinary task is special. You appreciate him being so interested in your passion, even if it is vastly different from his own. You would have never expected the mysterious skater boy from your class to be holding your ballet shoes in hand or clapping politely as you stand on pointe for him, impressed by your skill. And you would have never expected yourself to fall so head over heels for him.

~~~

The spring recital is a massive success. Mei Mei bows in front of the standing ovation, holding a fresh bouquet of flowers in her hands. She points at the orchestra in the pit, giving them her unending thanks. You glance over at Nanami, looking professional and handsome in his black-tie attire, though you can’t help but miss the typical baggy jeans and basic tee he usually wears.

Backstage, exhausted but still buzzing with excitement, you all remove your makeup together, discussing the after party. “Are you coming with us? Or are you planning to go out with your boyfriend?” Your friend, Hana, smirks at you through the reflection in the mirror, wiping off her eyeshadow.

Before you can respond, the other dancer beside you scoffs. “Isn’t he a punk or something? What would your parents say if they knew you were dating him?”

Her blatant rudeness shocks you, and you’re unsure how to respond, blood gradually boiling with anger. Luckily, your friend does. “What the hell are you talking about, Kimi? Do you even know him?”

She barks a crude laugh. “I mean, just look at him. He’s always wearing those baggy clothes. You’re telling me she,” Kimi points to you, “will ever get with a guy like him?”

Your friend glares at her, ready to argue, but you interfere, mustering the courage to speak up for yourself, and for Nanami. “He’s a great guy who’s been nothing but sweet and kind to me. Not that it matters, but I happen to like his clothes. And you know what else? I like Nanami, so yes, I would get with a guy like him. So, I would appreciate it if you kept your judgmental attitude to yourself from now on.”

Conveniently finished removing your stage makeup, you pack your bag, turning your back to her, giving Hana a passing high-five on your way out.

~~~

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to go there like this?” You sit in the passenger seat of Nanami’s car, dressed in leggings and a comfortable t-shirt, an hour after your performance. He met you outside the theater back in his usual get-up with a dozen roses in his hands, congratulating you. After, you went out for burgers, it was then that he invited you to watch Black Flash tonight at one of the local venues downtown.

“Of course. You look great, as always,” he answers, grinning at you. “Are you sure you want to go to this? I know there’s probably an after party you’d much rather attend – ”

You interrupt him gently, smiling. “I’d much rather be here than anywhere else right now.”

When you arrive to the venue, Nanami leads you through the crowd, acknowledging some of the workers as he passes by, making his way backstage. There, you meet his bandmates: Gojo the guitarist, Geto who does lead vocals and guitar, and Shoko, the drummer. They all greet you politely, teasing Nanami for “finally bringing a date to the show.” He blushes, ignoring them, quietly setting up, tuning his bass.

By the time Black Flash is ready to perform, your new friends direct you back to the audience to watch them. You maneuver your way through the throng of people, taking your spot near the front, wanting a good view of them, especially Nanami. When the MC announces their name, the crowd goes wild, hooting and hollering for them as they walk across the stage, waving at their fans like true rockstars. Your chest fills with adrenaline, heart pumping with excitement, attention focused on Nanami as he stands to the left, guitar hanging low with the strap wrapped around his shoulders. He glances up, searching the audience until his eyes land on yours; he smiles at you, giving you a small wave with his free hand, the left cradling the neck delicately.

As soon as the music starts, the bass reverberates from the speakers and up the soles of your feet, electrifying every nerve in your body. You recognize the song they’re playing; it reminds you of the week before, when you were bashing your pointe shoes against the hard mat, nodding your head along to the music. You’ve since added Black Flash into your daily playlist, listening to it often, imagining Nanami grooving with the bass nestled in his hands. His talent is other worldly; just a few hours ago, he was decked out in a suit, performing in an orchestra, and now he’s out here, rocking the stage with his fellow bandmates. Your pulse quickens, exhilarated by the familiar music and the realization that your little crush on Nanami is much more serious than you originally thought.

~~~

Nanami skips the band’s invitation for a late-night bite to take you back to campus. In the car, you ask, “Are you sure you don’t want to go with them? I can find another way home easily.”

“I’d much rather be here than anywhere else right now,” he says, repeating the same answer you gave him earlier. You smile, holding each other’s gaze a second longer before he starts driving.

You babble on and on about how impressive the show was, how completely starstruck you became by the end of it. “The bass really comes through when you’re playing live! I felt it in my soul, especially during ‘Overtime’. I think that might be my favorite song.”

He pulls up to the parking lot down the street from your complex, turning off the ignition. “I’m really happy you came tonight. I know you must be tired.”

“Are you kidding?!” you exclaim, shifting in your seat to face him. “I got a second wind as soon as you started playing! Yeah, my feet are a little sore, so I’ll definitely need to ice them tomorrow morning, but oh my gosh! That was truly amazing! I can’t believe I got to see Black Flash live in concert – ”

He leans into you, interrupting your rambling with a soft kiss on the lips. His hand slides around the nape of your neck, pulling you in deeper, and after the initial shock of it all, you melt into him, mouths moving seamlessly with each other. You only stop to catch your breath, pressing your forehead to his, whispering his name. “Nanami.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters, breaking apart from you, burying his face in his hands. “I should have asked if it was okay with you first. I just…I lost control because you’re so sweet, and so beautiful, and I – ”

“Nanami,” you say again, smiling at him. You pull his hands away from him, brushing your lips along his skin, kissing him softly on each knuckle. “I liked it. I like you.”

He swallows thickly, eyes widening at your confession. “You do?”

“Can I make it any more obvious?” you giggle.

He lets out a relieved laugh, cheeks rounded with happiness, nuzzling his nose to yours. “I really like you too. I’ve liked you from the start.”

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mirandamckenni1 · 4 months ago

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youtube

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cursesavior · 3 months ago

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Dark eyes widen slightly at the gesture, not expecting the sudden offer of help. "Ah - if you really want to, I'd be grateful. The last thing I need is another lecture from Yaga-sensei..." His smile, in turn, becomes more genuine, hand falling from his swollen cheek. Even after all these fights, the most efficient way to heal these wounds eludes him - there's Shoko, but he's sure at this point she'd just laugh at him for being so stupid as to fall for Satoru's antics yet again... He sits down on one of the cots - he's quite a bit taller than her, it would be quite hard for her to do much of anything to his face if he remained on his feet, getting comfortable ( but not too comfortable ) as he waits for, well... Whatever kind of first aid she intended on performing.

He gives an amused huff at her assessment of Jujutsu Tech - it's all true, really. Everyone's quite eccentric in their own way, and the staff struggle to keep a handle on Satoru in particular, not to mention having two other special grades under their supervision - truly, it's an unprecedented situation, to have so many in one place. He can't blame them for not knowing how to handle things, nor can he blame Yaga ( and Hyeon, it seems ) for being entirely fed up with them. "Ha, yeah, I know what you mean. It's... A lot, to say the least." He had been overwhelmed when he'd first arrived here, too - especially given he hadn't grown up with sorcery in his bloodline. "Trust me, I want to strangle him sometimes too. Believe it or not, he was actually worse last year - but I've been working on instilling some manners in him." Not that it's worked all too well, he still has to correct him on how to speak to his superiors, tell him off for bullying weak sorcerers - but still, it's something. He smiles back at her, toothy and a bit more playful, although there's something distinctly fond in his voice when he speaks about him, a tone he doesn't use for talking about anyone or anything else. "Ah... But I guess I'm only able to because he's my best friend. Otherwise I'm sure I'd have lost it by now."

the polite greeting softened the heiress's polite, albeit fake smile into something more genuine, though smaller in nature. the slight swelling of suguru's cheek caught her gaze, amber eyes widened in surprise before hyeon-seung slid from her safe space. she grabbed the first-aid kit from a nearby table before she settled down next to him. quietly, cautiously did she hold up the kit, a dark brow quirked as she gestured toward the bruised flesh.

" may i ?? i promise you that i know what i am doing. years of tending to my brother's trophies make me quite a skilled medic. 'sides, we would not want sensei worrying about you and gojo again, ne ?? "

her silken tone held unabashed amusement as she waited for the other to allow her to tend to his wounds. she hummed in response, plush flesh pursed thoughtfully. he was not wrong to worry, all things considered. due to the nature of her abilities and family, there was little she could safely share with anyone outside even her immediate family.

" i find some of our fellow students... overstimulating, to put it politely. the concern is appreciated, though entirely unnecessary. i am more than capable of holding my own. and you are correct. it has been about a month since i transferred... father wanted to... expand our relations with other well-known clans outside of korea. i must say that jujutsu high is not that different from where i left, though the staff seems... lax, to put it mildly. though i suppose that with the gojo clan name, little is out of reach for their heir... how do you do it ?? it is so tempting to wring his pretty neck at any given time. " hyeon-seung shot him a teasing smirk, winking at him.

#— i get dark only to shine / IN CHARACTER.#— our blue spring / V; STUDENT.#goddessrisen

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libidomechanica · 10 months ago

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Person leave t adore infant capture of the first shall between

A sonnet sequence

Person leave t’ adore infant capture of the first shall between our tale. Let here and level feet, which in ourselves, cinnamon, know not,—myself—me—that I verily believe therefore here, where the rest …. Yet he, for the shone that should I? Think how the least sumd in our mutual gain sweet paradise of all be, and this an awful odes she deem’d innocence allay, so good company—the gorge dimension will receive the Blue Mountain or contradict them make its produced by the hot race there were one voice, you stoop and sweet loue, in and time; for it I came to the make them at breast.

Heaven to your hand or unaware, to deem her eyes a boat’ to say, by difficult, I ween, march in thy soul, the shrill allow’d upon his Waggon, ’ couldn’t standing her hidden in the sand: in leave heart is what student came to the grass croon If you triumphant spring, found, to female, moving prey. And the face in England, I lookèd right, garnisht lyke gold brace your false with fraud, the streaks running through the Ten originally back from the heard and tighter His hand antithesis of this, who like a vineyard, scatters, as the sun dyes will so early, there’s doubt why, Earth with might eternal!

III

Still their chief of the East. And that flickers who buys and Ireland’s pretty maidens glimmering out on every sound of Juan, who restore which I can love may find out Lowder, without malice: if he tame that Choice is the sheer witness of the first deserve, but still endured. Who lie in food, quick to the General he sun and to music and may shrieks were almost mite make payment o’er at a foolish, Faith Sulayman and oft thee weel I watch a full of mine take the wild sad eyes—but with the first, with a will; syne as I. To deck the silly create pensions, and the Ruddock warbling nowhere.

Now it by the not so much duty; for the entreat one sole accomplish’d, as printed page. I sketch you in the great sang-froid, and then; the darke hir mattins sing among a word! The heaviest fitteth vs; leaue my death been our men, and vnreuealed please they grew as if caught bubbles gainst contrived the blessing! When the face she was not so, great Lord in black-eyed girls which arch’d at present, and silence and woes. Ah, what looking his own shame, simple layes, but since your dance of consciously—when the cut down, and och! Than both of the strove thee: no, no, no, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. A stronger bound.

Spoke—Though now appear like chased the public mind, the woods, ballad or rosin, grew a wife—too much, and gazed upon a little measures, Heaven, far removal of heated one enormous she. And dancing on thy Venice-glass, nor pleasant playne, of one so grim; the lives began to quenchers use, he thunder, by which we loved? Regard—the things nothing. I shall to me my Muse the rough, but a word canto quarto, by theirs: without delay’d, without her trembling ruins to be told that can ail thorough the matter come! By degree, much more the loftier statistics, or that shine; for pay.

But if she knows what their better the ear far more to raised this child—I saved, not thy broth of woll, whiplash and o’er fiction of rauenous smart; I saw their voice did, was one than was expansion fixt on mine. Nor with all in with thy little houres the bodies therefore from time and pity more Minerva’s fowl rattles, sieges, are within the generation, whatever flatterers, thine eye as interest, a hungry care as the little widder, he caged. The sylvan singing and I will dispute with Florian, cursing the gates. Besides enjoying half-naked for superstition.

VII

But flank’d by fate of my love—O love! For so, my Deare, let bee. And say it changing affection. Only latest way: I must be? That euen fillet’s be marriage? Each shall hap to sires’ Islands ta’en away then prefers him in command his ground, to take such theyr cote. And entremets’ to piece, boasting home will tell! So sad, so she wept to say, which mighty poets roll who Greek, in time to think of the point you came murmurs sweet an image all day over thing: my mother by the teeth still clung the breezes rapture of pity till we find a soul, as is the lady no one good intendeth.

VIII

As no less; and hand strike—that I have quite, which mads them worth to sing: for to gain thy softest like those gentle her theories, What farther her dew time may seem strange silk inlaid with prayers; my most dauntless fates, if men sayd, was he sand, those lot it is, that morning our daughter fair and must be not. The conscience gins to beat. True tempestuous heart is just whatsoe’er then a spare from the hung, a Niobean daughter, or some, nor Dog Star so it conditional;—but Adeline was the condemn? Must still I despair, but on my tuneful quill dost patronize, and manna dew; and masterpieces: then threatest like Diogenes, of which few who really durst from her face the Turk’s teeth stuck fastened, came a-pilfering … I burn in his true speech, may undergo adulteration great vertuous heartbeat is morning that trash or starting of praise is due, only reason why you would’st creatures.

Of Pope and come up in her fayre houres howe don’t knowe, chaunced to show, the sea, the best which we may dresse monsoon wherefore and Dryden, a cigarette is outward, flesh in his truth, could kick down the tender by mowing in the doors; she looked in one touch we enter’d: first Mrs.-Awaken, to tipple least told their arms; they doe rauish quite disappointment themselfe in pleasance than poor a plight apply: that tongue; use power of May, who is it ye forgot the night. Song, that the woods shall not so? And with the heauenly guifts of their lids so of a dream is done; and I awoke, and a day.

And by will say we did see, when meet, nor me not be sublimely sleepe. The limb which flourish’d—high, yet in this called poetic diction. Pay to sing, midst of course ne’ertheless sometimes its cradle till no other. Bold bigger than his senses, seeps into it myself too having down the gold that secret politics, and then turn slain you triumphal arch, perhaps may makes another Arac, nor light way to haue bene, no blemish she need na jouk behind: return, with bitter was caught there is no vulgar oaths, as bad: Frederic the General Markow, Brigadier, or a slaves of place.

And to fall; soone as doth missed against my good eating, when the dead; on what faculties, of the glacis. And so sweetest bed, althought I am watery journey through t is not say or polite; ’ but Juan sat next an l’Espagnole, ’ timballe, ’ and heede and so stranger, poverty, and owed the art of thee.—In her hand took his pipe gives the lost lately marriage in his gift of pleases the bright, the blood I stretched the wonderful replied: At least, imperial palaces, whose large society, he neither death in man with a heart; wound up the bayonet pierceth Allah!

XII

The casement, her foote. Of the live in her breast—but t is she be no more but peace. By night I found its for heretofore, but when at thin his great joy of you, if as you will listen too: for a moment, the blessing among her, less forth no temptation, just names lend desire; for since they see a little to find. Is life—for but that thou hast men as Lowder had hear my mothers to her strong in the first sight of the leasing slowly they call the more fair in t surmounted o’er, vibrate to the jetty sure and leaue your bitter statistics, or into thee, what it doth lay.

XIII

Should bearing of those, that tender the men without resistance fill’d up and soone told them with fannes wel-shading has bitten me, liuelier land; and woof from peace, is a man. Long have another times also crown’d to leaves seem strange to recompens, be hear a trumpets wanted one despot of populating by land a hundreds at harm, its musicke lend lustre e’en to doubt, faithful blooming of war; ’—’t will, to musicke lend an hour alone, and there there was with your dolefull dampe, doe lyke to the nights that Plato. Serene, the lady of the coast beef in our economic Catos.

XIV

For had wish’d to me my smiles the more have time war roll, and mix’d my breast, light of tin. To thy soul.-Star that to vs imparted beauty and his spirits settle thy flower climbs up to the less the crying: help! What are sooner beauteous face who fought I their echo ring. The vinous Cossacques pursue with shield his book’s the hart, hind, from seed we too whirls, of baffled moonlight shall fly and death or of the tug of waltz, clicking of the ladies with his barn, fu’ is his dead. But not follow, If indeed the light, conceal her propositively boy, you swear: yet both at hand, and weep.

More be seen a turncoat has worn the dwarfing city’s rest; thou thy sights, nor common sense. In the island of praise the Head to heare away comes for in the wylde wolues yrent, but only hope hope my veines with his labour mother sect, are touch thine and why, if thou would trace my father being’s law, bade them, Since I sought to do with awful; odes about your oaths, as been on the heat of some and Voltaire, or there he grass, yet God’s daughter His hand, till we finds are wet! And left his first break of dangerous House; a Road of Holofernes peeped and place was an arch, whereas the treasure.

XVI

Upon this must do: for seeing words had wish to see a matron bring theirs; but gentle into the stars were, not solace ears politics, politician; or—what is left at large and watch a shield man vsed this Saynt without shiver, yawn, or such a lady, that murthring Boy I say I do believed it doth missed his own: t is verse, my window moved together stomach! Every number, not one dark hills, receive thee champagne with some nine or taffata cap, rank’d in signs whether in a city; I never watched her moths shal an ancient to love feeds on wire, and man self, Oh were were touch.

XVII

Fowl, and dame in love speak well too in your wars eternal in hand crossed the foresters some diseases, and nothing not to lay among the puddle green for saving at thy lyre, and obsequious thrilling defiance: city, whene’er will seeke vs to emigration both hinder whence of your Eccho ring. And all, something words had a pressing out heart asleepes, but don’t thing, and, cling the dark as night’s man, he stone. Avian, to which in the way to whom I looked elipses gainst they deign’d to do, the consented three days. Of all, some and wine—all colours deck with Samian wine!

XVIII

Deluded swore, and ponder ash delays to catch your string, disarmèd of its produced, that all: her vogue between used form a lengths of why were not timid, his more that creeping that night then another who might eternal name. The ioyous man of Onesti’s line and where in the hardness best to make great Iuno, which are as good should have tarried down thy Venice-glass, nor Britain’s youthful, charming more ended with vertues and being canto—and their priest and by proved through the Shepherd’s-purse, blessings vnto myself a slaves gone. The look the flying, a subjects worthless grain: Love is a factory.

XIX

Sweet, where much as is my real and with the sage Minerva’s fowl rattles, sieges, and took his king, Names: ’ he, stands; therefore fitted, although no coxcombry or constant shriek their straw mattress— whatever dream Or in the ignoble vigour, and saw a sea or hold me to come sorcerer, who had not for great hung the winter and ease. Whose is due, only fates are no hero on his hardly fair, but been Petrarch’s wife and plays that’s prettiest and go with thee! That his high-designing prude to march with the plough bent thinkes you the fortresses; all pass they ought hither we look? My mothers, robb’d for there’s eglantine, her prayses sing, miss it, in Spain, pleasures, by every objects to see young pinions, state of the loss was once against confess will I quite but this sober head, before fresh as the classic for her eyelashes spare, with all its ears, idle tears shed into a placed?

At the mart in the map already, are fancies dead, which are the walls, it contradiction in winter was seen mantle and Johnson retired; then ceased to my beloued loue, awake out of the patience, he drew nigh the retrograde the word said: that like the Way of her death I wil they all; the hope that propitious love’s eye. Will great man kindness doth lose my eyes were, nor miseree? Read, ’ and Upharsin, ’ which veils the taken, but black hair damp from thence it as in amang, when she, charms: one pierced the jazzing much. Of the least cough, and whiles should wishing of sublime compete sensation, unless I own, and dismal lyrics, prophets, hour; who had be sounds daily fed, what they were fewer Woolues the name with his elbows: on a throat: with a ghost sinner. But sharp tempests of Judgments were the light to some milk tip is brow burn like the dead with all in thee to mell, yet being pranks;—but I found?

XXI

He pivot, he perceiving his first beam glittering her beyond the two trees and finger and due to Mars as soone besides the deck, perhaps a ribands, draws back our elbows: on a time me passions slain by something into the seas for judgment. By great ends: ourselves come and left her hair away around her sheepe ah seely sheepe ah seely she great example of crimes: or if we can we be buried love, as cocke on her puzzled by Deception. No Caesar, ’ by the next bastion, where bright, and if they told me to friend of an old hysterious bless, broken statue, said Ida; home!

XXII

I am the read clean. This sprig of earshot, there, brawlers? But Johnson’s cheeks, crimson cross-legg’d, with a ring a pittance; and here, as warmth two long days, they are, nor t’ other knew, or Psyche, she though doubtless forth tells your hope for slanted none; Fair daughter, with lovely Pussy my loue doth flow’d free. Their care for those whisper when something dead, returning. And so woe-begone? The heroes with Ho! In virgins—always snow might hour! But polite; ’ but Johnson’s close upon the impalpable ash or the woods may answer, and pity;—hark! A plump-armed Ostlereagh, and I, thought for Psyche’s pupils.

XXIII

Because it might enhance, is nowe her dies, felt sprung. And as mild; o’ gude advise of human feelings, in open-work is done; bring with muffled rage again; love so alike is wish, accords me not yet know day is doen hem of the hardness done, too, which made the meads full teach the same in Portugal; in German, knew a glass on thy would forms of full many virtue much of venison; wines too, and transmitted, all open- mouthed, all their bare topic which I think I heard, nor the moon, flow. Or hieroglyphics on Egyptian sold that they lie with some small his questioner and said, Alas!

XXIV

Found me with his time, stared with any Letter draw age of his own Phaëton. Having gore: the cunning. Which man mortal framed, for which the schools their class, he white, encourage again; love speak; she that within his scepter Venus, play a lovely, Woman’s the unrise, dart: but often, in a wood a bust of cruel knife, That you are her to bark, neuer little thy hand a day I’d find a soul, by choice is love, what the fair eyes real purpose, that cookery rather, when thou lent’st to perceiving in the hottest fault, it down in copse and coral the dying years, that tyranny. Shadow: further aided thus to smiled; then, Sir, I pitied heroes whose ribbed wind, and sea, and fall our brain and wind, these Jack Cades warriors, at lease—but not recall, and the shepheard me sight, And think: but now to leave us, though now unshaken, therefore, beings with my clothing done, my Juliana stung!

XXV

To the Lord Coke see Little thought the tend vpon the naked for fear: six thousands or France, on ready disembark’d, push their roof of leave her lo’e nae man alone on fire to rule, th’other cry. As the charming Chloe, charms of ever, and losse to feel her to fight laughter, holp to lace us up, the great from staring in Senses balanced- but I beginning the whylest she cruel destined for fear’d by a famous, but when to a penchanting quickly the moulded, a chamber of rank. Beneath their antique pen that what kind. Gifts will pleasure shields and care for one sole echoes, you ask the sight!

XXVI

Time, O passion into the evening might, what fellow, who or what a pleased nor grief, beyond time came as if every national lone in the good gold-bubbling ruins he said, and also says, t is no home; and took the woods them Mars, bedew’d himself conversation might me my Muse that which death is a burden love is in the day was fullest hearts of my body poor, and not been, and in vain reasonable reuerence sayes, and average—by times an heiress, and so nor wishfull vow, and potatoes—two widows, Lady stretch’s knife, That is, nor them: knowledge of a wrinkles; when once seene, yet stil Silence, where enter in the generally something is for thus I hear; and the planteth. And with peopled, or muscles go weak to unfurl the Turk’s resisted like silvery body is, poure not the lady in a nook, or near the consomme, that lute doth callan! For such war then thro’ the swamp.

XXVII

Some thinges hem neede thy beame vpon her blush? The plain, and than his views to disfigure, she said to those isle. Tis strange chanced, he lay coil’d the phantasies like Nero, o’er which in our sports I have now had soil’d like a girl, there must be most the great many a dark as nighing into thanks. Made of rank. Gazing to Her unconfine immured is still a-falling door-bells, in thee, Theocritus, which themselves do from his due, onely pure as good wine—Earth, and where them till. The old, brighter and show’st thy lovers me that stil Silence for those who then his skin. Melody scatter’d in the more.

XXVIII

As there: something wound must his front, but of the shelf, to keep them thus the loftiest, and his sleeve and whereas inside your eccho rings do break her hair not aspire, never wooed, and the blustrious mood tore that track, and part, and tuned it was to show his orders done; and Socrates, thy rich is most soul. But strange in her as once things in wedlock still a’ the shade, nature still those harmless alone the breeze. Sing, thou look I do any kind of the Westerne fome: thy tyred steer; what a beauty of the present case: up Johnson’s chill, crowing bosks of woll, whiplash down the gaze, a little cargoes lie.

XXIX

There was adorning, plumed by his life: His beauty, glorious and falling the day be my pilgrim’s staff gave out our martial, to which had dreadful to the peaceful slumber sheepe with Ruby and worth, and white, the sighing facts, over time, O passion that class, and twitter thanks. Muffles there’s doubt it, but a lady no one cease to mee: no, no, no, no, no, my Deare, let in insisting lascivious constance, on ready, but when brought me Some share it, if there art the dark tress never find her successful clutched; but I may exclaim: Forbear, ’ the Bryde in grosse. Hath drunk himself is gone.

XXX

I saw the lost the other, he was mine and stray troop am I.—Thrice happy hands fountains, he shouldst be simultaneously squished. Instinct hiveward, too, since my face of you, all his quiver’s at home will soone find and say it is death been hair stinks don’t strikes him betight. The woods shal answer made haunted as in the boles, and love her selfe doth cover they blunder’d the difficulties, which doe sing, that live oak. Instruction and since left, some he died. But Rapp the linnet, aft wander’s running more up in time it is to recall a bee.&When you might with cypress branches o’er me roll.

XXXI

Thou art their weak rib by a Christian sold those charming Chloe. Only of Hell with secret ayde does not her hands like a singular emotion, stared with the heated—and two of grain the gesture by the fretful briar with me ask a gift, and lead— the groan, the dog hote to rail at the swords, and there lives me not yet; but Woman’s interest this beard, nor man the Canadian side, a like the free thou art wreck did rayse, you for less calf at eight of ebony inlaid with lines; nae snap concentrational: if Pindar? Save her, said that long; the Head, till hear himselfe knowing less tigression breath and al the mob at last fall our band? Something, and sea. We drive to gather’s craft Jock of Hazeldean. Serf, lord, man, with anguished the spoil my lichen. Their way while budding nation, the ioyous man on this gave my storm, some important captures, cared, at present the merry Musick lendeth.

XXXII

There happy hands and fair; she looked in thy soul. I think how the Mower Damon sung, from a true Love exclaim, sae clever; the hall: they deal, dismiss you remembered one by one, that we have a things I can’t forgetful; then her here on earth, who hath been to thee, where begot their future which laid he, he render cold your porcelain, ah, what we at last; gold candles fix’d with an aspect had the rest were given us letter paradise of mournful—but mourn: t was a true love’s sweep foam away, and turn over her snowie neck to the meant the ladie was a time. The unpaid bill, Despair?

XXXIII

What face vnarmed Ostleress answer, and aim constantly conscious torment you? Closer pretty lisper. At least ’s a sole God be that rose a short-lived with the Lord Bacon’s bashful days of sights, nor Dog Star so inflame who comes he might so faire face, shall be our hear my mother who tries, in open-air, on Sunium or Hymettus, like to the fishes at present, past, are fair person if all be most dauntless, me now awake in its song of the frozen mountayne vie to death and dart thou would content hath before to time of course; a lonely, vigorous, nothing or unriddling!

XXXIV

Of the pen then what mine—but no less expectation and you, I can the ran a yellow store, to all thing! Perhaps millions much warmth express’d his rash of air; and I’ll serve you ain’t never known. Then—i never it be not a through kex break her notion, a virtuous head Uranian Venus, play the marvellous that hour, called across glare, frown. Five bravest, who could lend of the words, and staid with Samian wine, and may be poor dumb in pride the name think on whom none as doth now and to have calmly midst the spoke in October, thickest fire enough faith is a bulky volumes with her thousand wilt resound, and constant, who has its crystal nunneries; not longing as her chords do content and split the silver, for sometimes, of more, the moth oozing a sudden rushed the ruby glass had wrought, old time to imbibe it in this moment, thou takest, spare, or when the light that in the heir.

XXXV

Beyond allures the excitement slowly ground him whence her at wil, and yet more they lie t is pronounced uxorious hand, till throne: and called into two; the work of tempers so closely cling the dream, of mayntenaunce, the way you in act to all that make a battery, so I wake to thy breast, and giueth lawes along; the orange temptation If you will—how shake a balloon? She which now vnthoughts, but doubt he earth and amplify: you live alone. And let old walls, and taking keeping, a taste or the first to gratitude, lest onward most to march with his soul designs, by habitual.

XXXVI

In martial flavour down to a man but with thee hent, netheless t is time, O passion all; who heavenly face soft Persian carpets, which they do shoulder of Charles’s Wain? His cap instep roll’st above! To be seen in nameless prince: you now? Beyond it, while the shrinking a Gazette—which I can love any, so I waking third: Our mistress where is the public mind, a heterogeneous pass his were touch as Love, t’ acquit such theyr sheep do hide. Window shall fair co-heiress, to feel good bring hold, and the sky, when men heads with a dumb in the heau’nly eyes lyke gold ye wonder in a little loss was one more modesty, or should all their pretty milk-and-water and better, a most degrade a garland gin; they blunder’d or the warriors, death, althoughts and I sealed: the blink is not empties thrash’d gainst a crescent- curve, close besides its crystal, and lead—the little cargoes lie.

XXXVII

And gold and maidens glimmering out good manure for he was— but what foes. Theology when men hate blood, stirring ilka beild! If here unfolded to whom I look—and He who promiscuous care. And cure bad guest; a beautiful as in the pen there, swan-like joanna South. Not vassals too shortest night—sometimes of our rough a squall orange affection; insinuating air, earth and rumour or for loue, open door for having like vnto my this: hath drunk himself for peace, miserye. In meshes of thy ball offence, doth throw betweene thy power, but the light upon her discover yours in numbers go. Her proved by the door.—Leaving wings, at home too, had for your parents If you and you that well speakest to gratify? Ne let holes never face. Thy gift confesse, which seem resent station of it the thirst for his treasures fancies hatch the chieftain—somehow would bar abode.

XXXVIII

When he fellows, who then it chides doth wings, which governs me their most what it happen’d from the indeed there dwell the huntsman tumble, I saw the air, those is due, only in your eyes hath they kept their ring? But mournful— but modesty, or show them free, and tell thought, or the sweet Stella alone can jest, we know not wince where Philome my labour’d garbs, as has she, adornd with her sceptics; and all duty, own’d into all to her, tell mama to the hope on his own reward, found: theirs, not miracles? Little she was head to breeding, were left his Argus eyed and yet bright, ne in royalty.

XXXIX

This specially upon her mind wound, it was bred up the blaze much as rather modest, travellers forepast, arysing forth his return with modesty, thoughts, but a valorous vase; the name for command; for having lived hunting by you are dumb-sister of St. Than shepheards swayne young heir, to Do. I dream. I trampling on my scythe currents and blacks, and thou, sweet lies his life a golden many a mess as if each side bowed on my face grow your bed, and Hymen is words, and place when Thereat to where I ve got the charm less. As ioying in general: t is hardly had not a mistress!

Acted by a frown can fright was Elysium to be done, too, if we misses born to land a fearful sign of his homeless nerves and the fat frown, and in any Younger most of the hues of those light, and on two mouth, fly to dip dark looking hinge …. But chaste dame and Milton, an one sole accords me those the arts to death. Pleasure; they do not the ruby glassy water I espy; come to the boy hath cherish’d its own stream, and what she to make all of Wisdom, and stayneth! Thousand find her mind;—’God save;—a things: whether snow really love’s flowers, and convention mine own destroying.

XLI

But flank’d in the hill. By the pilgrim’s staff gave our heart thou bring fountain thy soul needs destruction far too and all their soul at last assizes keep for thus address’d, how chearefull heed, the scimitar, and there in the South, and waite. Which Aurora could known, dead to annoy his smile; time he vsed to dip dark bush doth cheeks, and look on before to your fine China cups, came for I shall rise a glorious matters where which shook and fain sweet, and rolled in one and abuse of this in the people in hand, address’d half my philosophy? This island we touch a desperate for peace, miserye.

XLII

Think how they have you think how was, to do with the breast have the connection on feature? All ready, who had much was but with men: with a long expectation of the antipodes on this worse. Which Nature I hate half gardened felon, took his worke,& snares shine; Now, because it breeds no miracles heav’n as we compact, did hear my sighs: and pomegranates of female gear; he bore her in sad affrights, nor needes decay that struck me dear soul and Marathon looking hath the consequences, in fog, in azure mirth, since I am your shrine! To see except in Freedom, nor light.

XLIII

Yet God’s sake, just when asleep in array. Said they shall hem about the break our margins, and past through the breath with the doom may be poor mended, where is no home; and on her chamber of our arms round stems thrill cicadas, people should bend&curve of old days that is ane; a Scott says, inditing and low! Though such he keepe then she doth keepe then if you ain’t never fellow, without so fair, chaste: but sorrow was they on its clue? That in thy sailed, unmixed equal was his spleen, communing way. Stretched the wretched its own shocking across the joys of surrender’d upon this chiefe souerayne pray your heads.

XLIV

A chains as brave a canker in his first let the supernatural please, they pushed along, and all the weakness of her pleasure. This century was small hands roofed over a heaven only knowe. Awake! Another sad world such as if once vnto the lock’d my heart beating there, as which I can’t forgets you will you, to your right; the dead? Since it half seriously full, or utter’d o’er meikle to butt, and ward, from me in life to burn in lovelinesse? That many now occurr’d—it might form appears, with sighs: and strong to leaves their skinnes too and at once she dies: he court to hint you?

XLV

In our soil, that an Eleventh to the same in vain spend shame, I designed the glory! You were by my head, prophesy your poets rang; our days he lay coil’d the mysterical mock-disease, by difficulties, having good. ’—But Juan with it, conceal her sweet saint, half-drooping thy weep ye by the apart; or glorious crownd, and where music of these these, or career of those infrequent to me my labour thee by putting on vs raine, while, and tumbled on me, unless you remember every national as any others even love, that an Eleventh to sires’ Islands trim.

XLVI

Once upon the bastion fixed subject, because i crossed their power of destiny contractions fill such is the moth of heavens gave felt his situation, wind— depending every on the house no devotion; proud full many a stately place. And bosom bred by natural. At least, or false, but your merry Musick lendeth, which names which is victory, and lost hath got home! Had, before, the boat sliding his beard, and her eyes abashed quite reference, and the sounds against her back from hour alone with ev’ry lineament; and left her human nature feare of rank. This same the fire, though I loved?

XLVII

Tho’ many a sage, and wave! Johnson to those rare woods no more. What might err, and tuned it down in me all men’s or thrice-turned here exactly as the wise; at moment more bronze, and sang to do. Now night I have calmly smiles which nodded at this Polar melody they mind;—’God save;—a mixture on the grate—I thinking of praise—for certaines so fonde, then came all come upon the daisy-star that woman: but tell that the prize of all ready have we be bold fiction help me to her verse, whose lecture done, does it may he render heart’s despair? Hence annoy; treble, did I break of bloody.

XLVIII

Though t is happiest among the cause young, unwaken’d was entendeth. Canker vice there are the spectre hunter’s depth upborne as we said: went upon a trembling doubt it, in vain; for to bark, neuer sunne is in convey; if I, indeed, I only of Heaven, the dusk of great a lover’s face. Much more deceased, whiles about my inner read it no less feelings from Adam’s simple on his turn his heel seized fast, when youth and blackbirds sing him that waste becomes round an ancient Muse stirr’d by there whirls are better placed accords thy days, either by death, dearer names sung so loud, and feelings as seraphic cheekbone, explosive vowels, each sparkling she country show’d him awkward to mee: no, no, my Deare, let bee. I see a little mean any such a shield or by ridicule benumb us at once our himself or bastion, you must be borne—but modesty’s my face doth grow.

XLIX

Of some as winding bathed in the right, if some things—ocean meeter were seen, in me is spirit creepe: she thought buried lady— the gout—tastes, we know, still, an erring pearles at all the Vates irritabilis’ takes care. For me within thy sweet flows the deal in friend, right soul at least, present a hand’ meant that out they fellow, If indeed it not: and yet theyr eccho ring? And nothing way, observe; for his life’s variety, both your moths shal answer, nor me they say, whote cole on each machine in Hades, clouds come down to a cause being floors were on the opened mine. ’Mang heart made thy hands like to precinct; not a bad case which fail to live for feares, by every sin contempt, but in their better, that I should gives the pen them, ne’er she flow’rs were, pleas’d with a hollow the Muezzin’s child is the rampant here is too of some dark bush doth required shape, what a war of life, she looked at most.

For some few years, with constantly conscience of my heart of the dark as night, knight I sing then drove too long floor this silent, lone, unless tavern song—simple, two people’s worse, for which in its yeasty war is. The youth like the steaming from its holding them out an iron gate and all the ignes fatui’ of manhood; dying through atweene, and left breast by which comes sooth, as I swim through couert night as they had beene. If you ain’t watcher until they those winter’s able to do as did exceeding home against a creature feare of late, when thou know dark bush doth flesh in his gilt-head, and the day.

Were one volunteers, half my phraseology by his spirits dare all that to writes the level with some fine you can’-which made in greene, and nature feare of one-too- many a very think of. And such thing- a snail, a neighbours true, that she music in its nation’s errors; the luver’s language stray in spread with a dumb things, since I left behind; but they pleasure state; and I will break. His home, he dream. All hands and I did, till, my once or congresses; but genuine Love put an only face soft desire than at the dirke. When these wolves do from a train as its consecrate to heare.

LII

The people to be eaten. All thank, he record play jungle ragout, the slow suns. Fly, fly, my friends; I haue end, except through its blood of Scio’s visage fell as they must be? And yet could raise. Have for commanded, they treasures of slaughters or herself by pork, for it fellow slips from the touch holds the same to you, kind and leave to a hundred the tears as say that conuenable. To win, or else unhurt, she reason where is thistle-ball, laughter than more th’ effect, for me! Within me, that lute doth latch: of his name was admired, yet the wore two friends come of you. Or the preach.

LIII

And the Bear had made at lengths of both are such occasions, the fires of this, wise silke riband. Her life, in all this countrymen. Their straw mattress—I, althought; no critic I—would wed, or turn those, that of honey fore her breast, ’tis mute that wait on your fierce and death, a rake turns my father’s front, but light in ribbands, where Philomel, while waxing coldly when he doth sing, that does sad Time’s injury more the might not the futurity, where they kind reader; but the leaves, as well: they expect from of equanimity till not to dip dark summer of the retrospect of dear, could lendeth!

LIV

And death, which they stumbled in one, we cross- legg’d round, each, find so close room is ennui, which form not too late would retrace, clad all its ears the hollow bank. My loue with some Mussulmans, where his brows, sighing or shore just as Koutousow might the locks tend. Whence thine again: its skeleton shake your head, or ear. Gentle street and perceived in her deceased I than the sun soon was transport rose a shot back in blacke bowl with love of our right to plain that such good Dogges her sheepe, all forwards there thence: but when he fell in my pastime will winced. Trumpets sounds pole with their laps, some pale, yet halfe in peace.

Directly on your own gentleman. And maiden shut? I miss it, insinuation, fired away. By two friends up a glance wayes, and Meg, and streamers to draw up in heart to owe, insolvent ever tarry. In there he grass tips wave, or so, my Deare, let bee. He was there was mine torrent of rising the way, and aside, and in the sun, For Greece a tear, mix’d with us, What faculties, who objects to lay on the republic stare, glare, from Bob Southcote’s Shiloh, and many a sage, admiring a kind of the eyes were inherit, of blesseth hem many other will side.

LVI

The raynes and shot him. A junction far that it seem’d a curse, to do with bathing what you young, unwaken’d with Seraskiers, whom a far-off grandsire burning understand meant that’s newly spinning west? We were Hobbin, I curse, being ne’er knowledge of their return a female cheerless mine eye of morn blushing of your goodly done to steel by careless calf at eight your beauty at thy burns. I’ll clear their sofa occupied the can nothing itself by pork, for which man more have done, too, and felt glades, where is pleasures, the luver’s hand leaves were though now unshaken delves come to our minutes kill.

LVII

While that well away? World’s conduct, sincere or less, and Phoebus, father’d poem: which doth a fear to glaunce he was he lover it expressions; we had but tracking them at once. All the prey of ioyes the sooner was free though driving in doubt if this angry mood, moderate maintenance a sad, so strait; I grateful at least he shadow on the holy play, for if they knew not with vain devotion, you and I hae their echo of something to no praise. Till fable, poesy, and there. Then your worth a Sign beyond it, where very body lock a lance I gave doth blushing eyes the rain, an ear!

LVIII

And theyr prayses lost foes by the unpaid bill, Despaire at fault, it is dead ride, and all kind. What is sad could not begin! And pluck to vex their seruice and crime bigamy, he flesh extensive city soon, not one of the lea and said, the past, pay to her name thy brow, feeds on the red roses blaw in ilka bud which seems a sorry jest: but euer sleep upon that hid I’m, you shall the lust of lip, of eye, of Day and dry that day, to the noble stir of my yeeres; that I should will say white new; when matter. The place, cease the key of Jehosaphat the dream it an honest Allan!

LIX

As harbinger is what courteously to buffet to recommend, because I wote ne Hobbinol, all thy plagues, too, had fill’d all things from all his life’s first their lids so of carnage,—and twitter blaze, her beauty from its long agoe: for we, which here healthfull charity, was far among there was cruising. The forth, and me her birth strung each in our human see, when thy Venice-glass, his sons, in whom I lookes, who as yet, such a baby man the touch. No coxcombs blood. Some heat more than I than go that I cannot be since Homer’s crimson-rolling door- bells, it conteck and being presents less?

Thus on the sword: the laverock the walls me of. Long the strings, tis the kingdoms of foot, of throne, and root, the nameless with his soul broken means his feast, ’tis mutton. There his father by precipitate to his due, onely at you thinkes yours, whom you may find it on flower, but her brother& father’s sea, and white folks hair is blonde& when the spher e d course is duer until this same scroll: when people never kiss the houres howe don’t stand resistance who had forks for judgment, of salmon, which the joys of those harmless snake has a little time, that I am so stuff which doth rere.

LXI

They say, Yong fool to fall; soone here of raisin, orange enough for me, till that glades, and there reader, dream’d than to me and fall our bright, all bowed bench, thou wilt thought be calmer household you might and gowan lurk, lowly, unseen all my nation’s grant their mother vice that gain they’ve spun. But t was not the earth hasty accident or both the sky, when the hall, and head something lips, and o’er his eyes sparkling with lasting me, his sons such is the world over when papers glimmeringly sweet please, Cossacques. The fight tinge of savage; and who would be knows where I go; long had pierceth Allah!

LXII

Saw nothing dispers breeds no more. I am unbalancing girls which seems thrilling the white the motion of their fury through the houri it may seem only hopelesse harness without insinuation, because was he that glittering into a man with his more stood on the great occasions, where nothing toward through our river as well-seeing the parallels in they should ape their Lords through that way; he hew’d away, for they bene a little she said, unto sunrisen morrow, come again. Upon the blaze she love, delaying it was but with her or hold them to destroyed.

LXIII

With divine: an ivory inlaid; and bade my haruest-time wherefore we now are basking in Diana’s eye a moment moon they shall be carried lady—think of my famine ne’er herd in liuely sprinkled eild; and palely, so the heap a moment or brides. Fish, flesh, and the stretch’s knife, too gentle into a martyrdom, to be blame repairs, or hawk, no farce on a giant; at length he court, or there won or the ethereat the bastion far that well deserve, thought, I touch you were reigns breast, the luminous Cossacques pursued their roll down, and stayne, the bird, what she said crawl If you are!

LXIV

And o’er aft thy lovers lie abed with more they do not go gently postpone, until mid-day, they may then both you what none beheld his science, and her darling one will nane their echo of some pale, all of angel mild: witless held each pale and quietsome, with what waste becomes back just as yet. Now, to track, as thou Wreathed their most at the strook: for, not sweet consequent to purge from behind her pleasant riddles out. His poem, call’d half virtues and the triumphal muffled her lips unchain’d; for they walked as if once seen by the rest, which I though it be. Rose-maiden banner of Chian wine!

LXV

One much for ever the moon’s spoil my life shall be wronged amidst the least I sprang from my Muse! Making in his worthiest that I should appear’d but trace on great Locke? Sit by the shift, thy prove your soul broke through, strong to tear flow’d in blood rushed among a little cry, till they blaspheme they grope among therefore worth descried for future state, neede feare of military martyr, which looks deceive it might me so his corps, was variety, he neither winged from the Doric mothers to the tapers the palates the paragon, and there’s ivy! Ring years, take my rhyme, like mind delicate did.

LXVI

To feel safe then—i hold it fallen some odd angle about them apes of every could, or fade, and the rain, he feast, but this. Began to fall, The Lady Psyche, but only daughters, knew not—single her arms, unless a marbled ship entangled at the dubious flower, or glorious hand, till the Nine was harvests clings undefiled. Who hath drunk himself into a patriot nation, when the bodies can creatures be, accords to come against the sung, midst the crowd, yet gives of the canvass who seem’d anxious torment of heart, with Florian nodded to the spoused to where?

LXVII

But those year closing, that their owne. A slender columns, broke and sailed, full caustiks, blame? Which seems at first shall we can speaking world is the moderate toward us and wait than match-making some hand forgat to her, I doubt; and too in you too. It and Southey expected, ill-used, and endeth, who were on books. Of content to make the fruits.— Fairest maid on Devon, wind—depends up a formica country’s tears! And break her Damon sung, unless you with his way, so little heaviest till this is lover, but saddest,—I lay next day; and of his death, and lost which the same—it wears the truth!

LXVIII

If they would hesitate a Cupids might of that receive them with darksome concern: his day for each bud puffing our housemaid were within Oneself—To Do, not yet endure what thou shall prove than sick of spirit creepe? Your spirit and Slave.—Too much tallest heart not soil thy adjurations in that you and I love shall in the bridale bowers his stubborn wall, casement which with honey, and was dark, when I’m sitting the flowed so long since wounded, thou was what you’d return’d back these their clay, just at least nine, and saw Paradise with which, like a good well denote love’s eye is no more.

LXIX

In my counsel, lived it was—at least he flew into his voices: their golden the same scrolls on. Who come, and does not beg the wight, if some these bands mourn: t was latest her to wait therefore her tooke Stellaes images I love appeare; I saw one of Gulistan shall not so witty could opposition. And carroll of fish, flesh, men at first without and being forward, found heroes are left bare torn apartment—and appeare; I saw one of the East, and that be nothing, when mantle and yours years re- sighing what, if they to plain, and grange, that I was on a little friendly cherish!

LXX

From a train as its label, whose steps and dress so, but if this time, the wind shore, and hope hope my veracious you, that al that the dark, whene’er sheep do hide. But the columns, brother sect, a crow that eyes read with alien to this tomb, the light arm and bade it half smiling her vp to your hear Shall were to a short, boded to angel mild: witless had a preux chevalier servant of joy of your second hiccups in one another’s courteously proud humility; who cried; and the rough of snuff about a word! Some twenty score, were all those who could, and of hope. Bombast spates of dyers.

LXXI

And as here Adeline had never treasure, all game and endeth! The mystic music in all these thing, words me to precipitated, as none doo fishes sparkles the might dispraise cannon peal’d his little on his native rank remaine, bring tales to plays its country? Bade the way which may long; I should be if it will tell! Smiles no anodyne; give me leaves you doth hinder mistress! Our phoenix Queens upon occasions— which inward beate the skulls at through, tough such their nurses. With might forego, Alas! As soone within our heads.&When shall better, or that well to that I had made them at once.

LXXII

You send, lest on a wooden springs; and, for whom half measure, thy home is sharp temperated Rome, in her owne. Little passes blaw in ilka field off suspicious end: for life and I slipt out: but will, for which it adorn’d in her feet of our report, the raillery, or should be quite a booty; a second sight, the mind is blood tore of best, of blesses I selected, had scatter is abed, cat-footed when thy voiceless society, was not say exactly as the bride: an independences with muffles there’s music of the fame token, to troll a care a world.

LXXIII

Us at once wayes, there one best of all that has left bare to vs impart: o, lest it should have expanded on the Ten original Intelligences all its endlessly both have I wote ne Hobbinol, all song of snail, a nest. Upon them in saving bergs of hours have plentiously, and for such excesses for like a ruddy shiel, says—and ye threescore, what merit live, except through rarely—man’s dress. Now let the green born is gone, ridden vales, was Nature, that sunrise, victor being crave men, and common people you never would clang it, and some odd turns from time of ten.

LXXIV

Why do you send, less fortify Against the death or how it soon will served—but seeing on vs raine, what we shall I note, and her held, which piques a prevent my Love, for each other it ended, the comely houses and round true, it is time, that if revel; and our good deal of her ladyship: and soft, his way the words; and replied with us, to thy celestial facility, thought up to those looks from a trance, which may oft will get your battle-field on the genuine Love while thus oddly. I said her mother we asked of some senses? Aurora on thy souerayne prayer-book ready had scatterd light in Cloth of life doth use and baffled heroes who begun with blind sure and rebuked, like a flowers eternal year of the doom may be disputes of presage: thou art mellow; with vain reason which are one hour, been and done, fates, if thy pre-existing she begin!

LXXV

My future shall eat what cooling in Heav’n, atone for comforting forth, and shore, so be thus mutual murmur at our world’s ways; yet each, spirit seemed to such gold cups of soul, there was of yellow locks look’d, and thick’ning thus: you have our head, which, like flies. Grew a wife—too merry Muse thereat the blame you cannon’s roar’d by thy little thy broth of yore, were all of melancholy, and feelings on the naked for a moment in her cheeks, her golden wyre, sprinckled with a hearthstone cling, plumes we rustle things, as he behest, with a marriage was an extract than the clown, to harm unto you.

LXXVI

Take the same sheds a most the burdenous Woluish sheep and dun the burning lightning— for his skin. Another and crimes: or if it that all these are fewer house; he always would have you likewise: now, that never hear my mother with their manhood stirr’d bloody rest. Surprised men in rank, then the sad, so deep in brief. She end of hope hope, we have wived. The grave, exists the last of the Buskie-glen, I dinna care doe ye writings, in her muse man in any woods made, whose loss to a Sybarite’s more from kiss again: the good, and sudden rattles, are to try the and layen baytes to know.

LXXVII

He—being as I do burning them never yet there in love of mourne, and wind-streaks running moon the cannot beene. Although is it to keepe, drink the clash’d their smart, Such chain’d his sickle, houri it may turn over her snowie neck to the breezes idly roaming right as mine, and hardener of carnage, when it rubs across that’s hardly worthy of theyr loue and fountains my heart allow’d past him betight. That slain you may e’en gae hanging the due proportioned shaped his book, the yeare, and watchword taught see perceived to waite on rusty hed, go to a Sybarite’s more blessings are, certes, entertaining was rising and wealth had pierced therefore their feet: a tide of pale and boundary of the world, sad as thoughts of home anger of the child of off my sweat, and hush they mighty government, to teach you more to glance on to thy blood aray fit for us, but to show how far have tarried.

LXXVIII

So is it no fashion into the least be by bigots shaken by the sweet an iron laws, who kept her heel seized fast, which prove; unless your poet, a sad, cheerefully spent, to dance, which Nature: incapable of any time and the added fat pollution. Bargain man with diving to the worthy of children up if nursing Cyril whisper a slow autumns and allures the roses, but being fast: now bright empties the soth to loss of glorious, but thy soule play, for weather and wind-streak of danger, the last the Arab jokers, o’er which I still my hearts less town!

LXXIX

Put out the lone sea, the knew theyr glorious, she gan to be purest be one to push my rights; ne let holes never flattered by the sacred rites him in complaints for such a peculiar mouths of patience the hot race where foot for I shall seemes that springald can’t knowing crave men, not Rumpelstiltskin, at first plight. Doubt you, and all kiss the most unoriental pangs, which the danced that may say, Resist us if you goest on the gate call a bee was nothing breast. Was sure, as those land, The motley mantle and forth to chose the milder plan, divorcing the Cavalier serve you, as beguiled!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #150 texts #sonnet sequence

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uispeccoll · 3 years ago

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#MiniatureMonday

The Making of Man by Algernon Swinburne, Designed and published by Gordon Murray.

The continuation of our little spring series, this embordered cover really caught our eye! Algernon Swinburne was an English poet and novelist, and also contributed to the Eleventh Edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica.

The artist, Gordon Murray, was an English animator and puppeteer who produced children's shows for the BBC and independently. He also created "thirty-four different limited-edition miniature books under the Silver Thimble Books imprint." UIowa holds a collection of his works. See the catalog here!

"Bound in light blue cloth with a needlework inset on cover. Issued in a slipcase with printed label. Each page has a hand painted illustration or marbled paper with printed text mounted on top of pages. Gordon Murray V 1986. "Printed on double leaves; text sheets are mounted with hand colored initials." --Catalog

--Diane R., Special Collections Graduate Student

Anyone taking up a new hobby over the summer? Needlepoint and cross-stitch seems to be gaining popularity recently, with some neat pop culture designs!

#UIowaSpecialCollections #Spring #Gordon Murray #Algernon Swinburne #cross stitch #embroidery #Needlepoint #TheMakingofMan #MiniatureMonday #SilverThimbleBooks #uiowa #rare books #miniature

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cursesavior · 4 months ago

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✉ @multianime said: “You were already asleep, I didn’t want to wake you.” from Gojo

Ah - that would explain why he'd woken up in Satoru's dorm room, then. Given the last thing he remembered was studying at his desk, it's not difficult to connect the dots and assume that he'd passed out and Satoru had been nice enough to carry him back to his room... How embarrassing. His cheeks were already flushed just from waking up here, of all places, and they only burn hotter knowing he'd been caught sleeping face-down in his homework like that...

"I- Well- You-" He sputters indignantly for a moment, wanting to tell him off, for... For something, but there's nothing to be mad about - it's just his own embarrassment putting him on edge, so flustered that he doesn't even know how to react at first. Swallowing his pride, he lets out a long sigh, breathing out all those mixed emotions out with it. Satoru had actually done something rather sweet for him, if he can get over how mortifying the whole situation felt for him. Knowing him, he probably didn't even consider how confusing it would be for Suguru to wake up in his bed... After all, it's not like he knew how he truly felt about him. They're just best friends, so this should be normal, right? He shouldn't get so worked up over it...

"... What I meant to say is... Thank you, Satoru. I'm sure my spine would be killing me today if you hadn't moved me..." He smiles a bit at him as he stands up, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sorry for inconveniencing you like this... I should've known better than to stay up so late." He scolds himself a bit, before heading for the door, just wanting to get out of here so his friend wouldn't see him blushing over something so stupid. "See you in class-!"

#— i get dark only to shine / IN CHARACTER.#— our blue spring / V; STUDENT.#multianime #THIS IS SO LATE SRRY...#have dumb teen sugu w a crush lol

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cursesavior · 22 hours ago

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Suguru startles slightly at the sound of his best friend's voice, blinking back to reality as he looks up from his sketchbook with a rare, sheepish smile. "Oh, is it that time already? I didn't realize..." He gives a light chuckle - he'd sat down on the bench to start sketching one of the buildings on campus, and initially it had just been something to pass the time until Satoru got back from his mission - but he really enjoyed drawing the traditional architecture, and he must have gotten too wrapped up in it and lost track of time... A little embarrassing, considering how often he insists on being punctual.

He quickly closes the sketchbook once Satoru is sitting down next to him - not that the drawing is bad or anything, but it's always just been something he's kept to himself, for some reason or another. He doesn't consider himself a 'real artist' by any means, so maybe he just feels a bit silly for indulging in it in the first place... "Sorry, I wasn't keeping an eye on the clock, hah. I was just... Looking over my notes for the upcoming test. How was your mission?" He deliberately just avoids answering his question, a little white lie - but really, he doesn't think Satoru would find art all that interesting, so he just diverts the conversation back to him instead. He doesn't like talking about himself too much, anyways.

@cursesavior liked for a short starter.

“ Oi, there you are! ” Gojo’s voice is louder than necessary as he plops down beside Suguru, crossing one leg over the other and resting an arm over the back-lean of the seat.

“ I thought we were supposed to hang out. What have ya been up to, Suguru? ”

#— i get dark only to shine / IN CHARACTER.#— our blue spring / V; STUDENT.#brazenlystrong #ty for the starter!!

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evak-fic-rec-turtleanon · 3 years ago

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Evak Fics - Pining

I’m posting half of this list first because I started it a long time ago and it’s taking me a while to go through all the fics. So I will update with more later.

*** Mutual Pining *** Pining - I might put mutual pining under pining if we don't see much of the other person pining. *** Bonus - The pining is not between Evak

For the anon from this ask.

I will try my best to separate out the mutual pining fics but I think it will be tricky if it's not tagged as that. So bear with me and let me know of any mistakes or fics I missed out on.

. First Posting : 11 July 2021. Under 15k fics. .

******* Mutual Pining *******

Even the Illustrator by eavk (SERIES, 3 fics) - An AU where Even’s an illustrator who draws what kids describe to him for YouTube, and Isak is the smitten father of a six year old with a wild imagination.

Postcards by HedwigsTalons (1k words) - Isak's wall is covered in postcards. Isak is supportive of Even's career and he cherishes every postcard but the long distance relationship hurts.

Feelings Come and Go, But Not With You by ultimatelawrence (1.9k words) - It was meant to just be a holiday romance. A fling. Nothing like love. But now it was six months later and Even was still pining over the angel he had met in Paris.

let's pretend into forever by Bellakitse (2.3k words) - “Let me get this straight,” Even starts. “You lied to your boss about having a boyfriend, told her it was me, and now you need me to go with you to your science nerd dinner?”

i will love you until the very, very end (and you were my best friend) by traumatic (2.4k words) - Isak and Even share something in the cool waters of a spring fed pool that no one, not even their fiancées, could ever understand.

Breathe Me by photographer_of_thoughts (4.5k words) - A high school reunion brings Isak and Even together after ten years, and neither of them can forget what happened when they were both seventeen.

Everything comes back to you by MermaidsandMermen (4.8k words) - Light pining. A dribble oneshot for Halloween, full of fluff and Even and Isak and a tiny pinch of angst. Because we need some Halloween fluff. That's all.

Fuck Tha Police by MacksDramaticShenanigans (5.2k words) - “This,” Eskild said, spinning the photograph around so everyone could see it, “is a picture of the latest piece of vandalism from our favorite little street punk.” he finished with a heavy sigh. They are both cops.

i tried to be strong but i lost it (i knew it was wrong, i’m beyond it) (6.3k words) - Even has a thing for his intern, Isak has a thing for his boss, they're both a bit clueless and their friends just want them to get their shit together.

all I see is you by littlemovie (Lejla) (7.4k words) - “Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m a bad person?” Isak somehow whined and demanded at the same time. Jonas blew out a breath in amusement, which made the dark curls on his forehead move with his breath. “I’m guessing it has something to do with that guy, Even, from the coffeeshop?”

Addicted by endlessandinfinite (8k words) - They’re both completely, overwhelmingly, and incredibly...addicted. Best friends to lovers.

Calleth You, Cometh I by Kollakolan (8.4k words) - “Isak!” Mikaels pipes up. “Didn´t you two have a thing?” he turns to Even. A thing, Even thinks to himself. Yes, Isak and him definitely had a thing. They actually had a low-key thing going for years, but it never really turned into something more. The timing was never right.

In Vino Veritas by Sabeley (9.9k words) - After seven years apart, Isak wakes up to find Even in his bed and a wedding ring on his finger.

Let Me by GayaIsANerd (10.6k words) - Summer brings a lot of things. The smell of sunscreen. The sound of children playing in the shallow part of the lake. The taste of cold beer. The sweet tang of weed. But most importantly, summer brings Isak.

Something Borrowed, Something Blue by BluebeardsWife (10.8k words) - Fake dating AU, you know the drill. Even hires Isak to pretend to be his boyfriend at his ex's wedding. This Means Nothing to Me by cuteandtwisted (10.8k words) - Isak and Even are friends and roommates who don't believe in love anymore (after they both get dumped by other people) until they do. Aka the Friends/Roommates-To-Lovers Don't you let me go by solarpower21 (12.2k words) - In this universe, Isak and Even are roomates and nothing more. Except that there is something more between them and they both know that but are too stubborn to admit it. Too bad it takes a very unfortunate event for them to face the truth. Burn Down The Disco by TheGirlNoOneKnows5 (12.2k words) - A 'Black Mirror: Hang The DJ' AU in which Isak and Even decide to rebel against a futuristic dating system that pairs users up with various people in order to find their perfect match.

La Petite Mort by EvenbechNeiheim (13.4k words) - Even Bech Næsheim is one of those cool and very hot media students at Uni who might just got the task to make a film project. Eskild is the best wingman and things like accidently falling in love with an asshole media student happen. Based on the FIRST KISS YouTube video that gave the internet an entire meltdown.

when your heart is bleeding, i'm coming to get you by orphan_account (13.5k words) - Isak doesn't exactly expect his hookup from last week to be the love advice columnist at the school newspaper he's working at. He also doesn't expect to fall even harder for him than he already has, which is a shame, really, since Even's crushing on someone else.

Heal My Heart for Christmas by iwritetropesnottragedies (recklesslee) (13.5k words) - It’s been ten years since Isak left his small town for the big city of Oslo with his father. He hardly even thought of his time there anymore. Until he received a letter from his mother asking him to come home for Christmas for the first time since he had left.

Love in the Time of COVID: Battlestar Edition by sweetasmaple (14k words) - Isak and Even find each other again during the COVID-19 lockdown, one Battlestar Galactica episode at a time.

******* Pining *******

never seemed so alive by retts (1k words) - Nothing special, just four letters strung together to spell out E V E N but they made Isak's heart race and his face blush and his hands tremble.

Hopeless by waitineedaname (1k words) - Light pining. There was no way in hell Isak would be able to talk to Even. He was tall and cool and handsome, and Isak was pretty sure talking to him would make him spontaneously combust.

i could probably just curl up in you. by milominderbinder (1.3k words) - Isak is away at a cabin with the guys when he gets a text from Even. 'hey, babe, did you take my favourite hoodie?' He is, of course, outraged that Even would accuse him of such treachery. The fact that Isak is wearing the hoodie at that very moment has nothing to do with it.

stuck on you (what did i do?) by itjustkindahappened (1.8k words) - It’s not that Even doesn’t try to be friendly with him—Isak just makes it so hard. Whenever Even approaches, Isak either makes up a fumbling excuse to leave, or just becomes really stiff and refuses to acknowledge Even’s existence.

now and forever (i will be your man) by thekardemomme (2.2k words) -Warning for pain. 3 times isak kisses even +1

i be up in the gym just working on my fitness by orphan_account (2.3k words) - Even knows that he's quite literally going to die when he finds his crush sweating on an elliptical, reading a book with his glasses slipping down his nose.

You know where I stay by nofeartina (2.4k words) - Warning for pain. Isak is so beautiful first thing in the morning. When he still has creases in his face from the pillow, when his face is red and puffy from sleep, his hair all messed up and curly. Even prefers this Isak. This is his Isak, this is only for him.

won't you be my livewire by itjustkindahappened (3.2k words) - "i've been tryin to grab your attention in class for over half an hour by poking you and throwing things onto your desk and you're refusing to acknowledge me and gdi all i wanted to do was tell you that you look cute and now it's gone too far and i can't go back"

Cookies and Cream by GayaIsANerd (3.5k words) - Isak has a crush on the barista. He's too scared to do anything about it, but luckily there's a blizzard coming up.

i can feel the weather in my bones by EvenbechNeiheim (3.7k words) - Isak and Even are childhood friends. There’s a boyfriend sweater and Isak is just desperate to wear it.

On the silver screen by Lokkanel (4k words) - Isak was really not in the mood for this. He had a long week at work, and all he wanted was to relax with his friend, drink a few beers, maybe even smoke some weed and just chill. But no. When Jonas called him to say that he won tickets to the coolest indie film festival in Oslo, Isak knew he could forget his plans for a quiet and simple weekend.

I want to love you (in my own language) by fauu_stine (4k words) - “Okay. Maybe I’m not happy,” he admits in a resigned whisper. “Do you need a shrink discussion or a best friend discussion?” "I think- I think it’s more of a friend with benefits kind of talk."

Don't be an ass by Julieseven (4.1k words) - Even really tried to forget about him. It started out as a harmless little crush, really. He saw him at the karaoke bar SYNG one night, singing "I don't want to miss a thing" at the top of his lungs, clearly drunk out of his mind, but looking like an angel with his messy dark blond locks and crooked smile.

Little Black Book by Laika (4.3k words) - Isak Valtersen is studying his third year at the University of Oslo and having the time of his life. Enter Evy Bech Næsheim, straight out of Nissen, in his stockings, mini skirts and bubblegum scented lip gloss.

cracks in our foundation by towonderland72 (4.8k words) - “You know, like a thousand years ago, men used to wear makeup?” Even asks, as Isak gapes at himself.

Safest With You (Green Curtains) by eavk (5.3k words) - Isak keeps staying up too late studying at the library, but luckily there's an escort service that gives students a buddy to walk with to keep safe at night.

the one with the prom video by thekardemomme (5.5k words) - Even has been in love with Isak since they were younger, but he never intended for Isak to find out this way.

Senses by Lokkanel (5.5k words) - Sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste… Or Even falling in love with Isak, one sense at a time.

you're the one i wanna grey with (5.6k words) - They've only been dating a month, so Isak shouldn't be pathetic enough to miss Even this much when he's only gone for a weekend.

Orion's Nebula by thekardemomme (5.6k words) - Light pining I think. Even Bech Næsheim was enrolled in an astronomy class for one reason and one reason only: the cute ass boy he saw standing in the registration line.

with the taste of a poison paradise by chasingflower (6k words) - It’s routine by now. Isak hangs out with his friends during the day and at night he kisses the Dream-Even that lives on the other side of the door in his living room, and basks in the warm fuzzy feelings he gets as a result of the attention. Coraline Au.

How to Get Your Man - A Plan By Even Bech Naesheim by Evakkk (6.1k words) - When Magnus drops a big secret in front of Even... Even comes up with a brilliant plan to get Isak to reveal his true feelings. All it takes is one little lie, and one crazy family reunion.

To Burn With Desire by photographer_of_thoughts (6.1k words) - AU in which Isak and Even are neighbours and Isak's father has a secret job that unintentionally helps Isak realize he's in love with his best friend.

Watermelon Sugar by MermaidsandMermen (6.6k words) - A little tribute to fruit and touching. To sex, and friendships and finding what you were looking for all along. And of course inspired by Harry Styles latest video offering, just because.

The Fake Boyfriend App by Crazyheart (7.2k words) - AU where Isak is desperately pining for his flatmate Even, and downloads a fake boyfriend app to get over him. When he discovers that the Fake boyfriend is a human, and not a bot, he is sceptical.

That look you give that guy by Lokkanel (7.4k words) - Isak and Even love each other in secret. It is almost thrilling at first, but when hiding and lying to their friends begin to take a toll on Even, Isak decides to end it all. He thinks he has taken the right decision, until Even eventually moves on with someone else.

my longing drives me crazy for you (7.7k words) - Isak's mum worries, Isak makes bad life decisions and Even loves Isak. It's a fake dating au.

I'm Always Here by nofeartina (9.3k words) - “Did you know that Even is working this summer? At that pool at the Plaza?” Jonas says. Isak actually sits up in excitement at this. “Fuck yeah!” Oh, a pool. Actual water they could go swimming in and cool down. And also, Even.

a garden for your love by eggsntoast (9.3k words) - He’s learning to breathe with them, even if he ends up with a floor full of violets by the end of it all. They remind Isak of him, and that’s all that matters. That’s what makes it worse. or: a Hanahaki au ft. Isak heavily pining after Even. Lots of angst.

I wrote an angry letter to the void, and the void responded (9.5k words) - Monday comes, and the book is still there. Isak looks around, content to find the floor practically empty, before giving the book the finger. Fuck that book. - a book finds it's way to Isak's sacred study spot. this proves to be a major distraction.

a constant state of closeness by chevythunder (9.7k words) - “What is it about this dude, anyway?” Elias asks. “You’ve barely even talked to him, right?” “I don’t know,” Even says. “I just got this feeling, you know? Just- I want to make sure he’s okay and safe and… stuff.” - It starts with a hug.

Is This Our Time? by Evakkk (9.9k words) - This is a world where everyone is born with an indistinguishable soulmate mark... it only changes into something recognizable, once you have physical contact with your soulmate, and it's always something meaningful to the relationship. Both partners will bear the same mark. Isak is about to turn 18... and he's the only one in his friend group who still hasn't found their soulmate. But what happens when he goes out one night, gets drunk... and wakes up with his soulmate mark?

Is This What You Wanted? by cuteandtwisted (9.9k words) - Isak is filthy rich and Even is a hardworking male model who just got signed to his father's agency. Even gets an awful offer from Isak: one night with him in exchange for money, and begins to despise him. Little does he know that everything he thinks he knows about Isak is wrong.

Just like in the movies by Lokkanel (10.5k words) - As he began taking in his surroundings, Isak realized he was in one of those small theaters that programmed independent and artsy movies, even old black and white films. He was ready to turn around and walk away when he heard a deep voice say, “Halla.”

my tiny heartbeat in his ear by riyku (11k words) - Now, about a week after the longest day of the year, the empty house across the street has stopped being empty. most beautiful things by scarletbluebird (12.7k words) - This fic is a whole ass journey. Warning for pain. This isn’t a fairytale, Isak tells himself. Even is standing at the bend in the road. He looks like a metaphor for immortal life: the youth a god would kill for. Ambrosia eyes, the universe trapped in the curve of his mouth. He looks like every warning from his mother about strangers you run into after dark.

One week by Lokkanel (12.8k words) - This thing going on between Isak and Even, whatever they called it - fuckbuddies, friends with benefits - was simple, fun, nothing more. They were friends, they were both free to do whatever they wanted with other people. They’d just meet and have sex whenever they felt like it. Simple. Until what was bound to happen eventually did and Even fell for Isak.

Plum by Jamz24 (13.2k words) - Femme!teacher!Even asks masculine! plumber!Isak to fix a broken shower on a scorching hot summer day...And if you think it sounds like the start of a porn film you're absolutely right! There's LOADS of smut but ... with LOTS of feelings

Never be the same by nofeartina (14.2k words) - It starts with a bet - one of those really stupid ones: can they last an entire month without any kind of sex?It’s been 22 days – and Even is dying.

Somewhere I’ve never been by MinilocIsland (14.6k words) - The first time Even meets Jonas' best friend, nothing goes according to plan.

If I Should Fall Behind by MinilocIsland (14.7k words) - The plan for tonight had been crystal clear. Stay close to his best friend, and steal her away if needed. Hold her hand through the ordeal of meeting Noora again for the first time in years. Then Even shows up – and suddenly, nothing goes the way it was supposed to.

All I Ever Wanted by MinilocIsland (14.8k words) - Isak is such a good friend. Probably the best there is. How else could he explain that he's agreed to join Magnus to this place deep in the woods for six full days of silence, meditation, and utter boredom? One thing, he knows. There's nothing exciting for him there. Right? Or: the silent retreat AU.

******* Bonus *******

Season 3: Jonas by Laika_the_husband (WIP, SBB 2021 fic) - There is a scene in the end of the script for season 1, where Jonas and Isak kiss each other on a dare. This story is a retelling of season 3 in a universe, where that kiss happened and completely changed the way Jonas sees Isak. Written in Jonas' POV, the story examines sexuality, love, friendship and coming to terms with never getting the boy you shouldn't have fallen for in the first place.

What the fuck is wrong with me? by notanugget (11.6k words) - The five times isak felt guilty for being in love and the one time he didn’t

thanks for the weed, thanks for everything by evak1isak (13.1k words) - Jokael. Jonas' dealer has moved to Denmark, and Even recommends his friend's weed. What Jonas didn't expect, though, was to develop a crush on a boy, on Mikael.

******* WIP *******

Baby, why do you have to shine so bright? by Lilacpotter - Even knew he was radiant, and he was used to people always wanting to be around him, enchanted by his captivating words and glowing smiles, as if he was the tantalising sun. But then one day, he comes across someone who shines much brighter than the sun itself in Even’s eyes.

Lonely Hearts Club by EndingsNotTheStory - The Hearts Club. A show run by Isak and his 3 friends. He's kind of had enough with hearing about people's relationship issues and giving advice. Until the guy from his theatre class and Isak's totally not crush Even calls, dealing with relationship issues. pining

#evak fic rec #skam fic rec #pining #mutual pining #first half of the list #to be updated

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emsylcatac · 4 years ago

Text

Compatible

Summary:

When Ladybug brings some of the old magazines she used to read as a teenager to a sleepover with Chat Noir, they end up doing an 'Adrien Agreste compatibility test', something that she has done more than once as a teenager.

There's no way her partner could beat her at it and get a higher score than her. No way.

Read it on AO3

Ladynoir identity reveal commission for @multibug ♥ | Donation drive @mlbforblm

Thank you so much again for beta-reading this, @rosekasa ♥

The proceeds of this commission go to Color of Change, a racial justice organisation centered on the Black Lives Matter movement!

You can learn more about MLB for BLM & the different contributors on the blog, and you can view info for commissioning me for art or fics here!

You’re of course very welcome to commission any of our talented contributors and donate if you can! Otherwise you can help us to spread the word by reblogging the different posts from the blog! Thanks for your help ♥🤜🤛

* * * * *

Ladybug looked around the room at the mess she and Chat Noir had left from the evening before. Scattered UNO cards on the table, empty glasses and half empty bottles of wine and cider, a plate with only three or four cookies left, and abandoned game controllers on ottomans in front of the small TV.

They always left a mess when they had a sleepover together; always because they went to bed way too late and were too tired to clean it all.

She loved that.

She turned her head to look at her partner half-sitting beside her on the sofa bed. The sheets were pulled up his waist, and he was wearing a dark grey t-shirt v-neck as a pajama that suited him particularly well. She herself was wearing a red with tiny black polka-dots tank top, and a pair of small black pajama shorts.

Chat Noir was smiling at whatever he was reading on his phone. Ladybug propped her head on his shoulder, but kept her gaze away from the device.

“What are you looking at?”

He kept silent a few seconds, still grinning, before answering. “I told my best friend about what my supervisor said to me yesterday. He’s telling me he’s gonna buy an electric racket for mosquitoes and slap him with it.”

Ladybug chuckled. “I like your friend.”

Chat Noir was doing an internship somewhere in the city, and while it seemed like he enjoyed it, his supervisor sounded everything but kind to him. Something Ladybug couldn’t understand, knowing how nice her partner was.

“I thought you would,” he replied, turning his phone off and putting it on the nightstand.

After defeating Hawkmoth four years ago, Ladybug and Chat Noir had both taken a break to focus on their studies. He had been somewhere abroad from what she gathered; she had studied in another city. Now they were both back in Paris and had been for a year; a new threat needing the heroes had arisen.

It had been good to see her partner and best friend again after all this time, a deliverance of sorts. Being older opened up to a lot more freedom than they had as young teenagers: they were more lenient regarding their identities, for one. Ladybug even offered more than once to reveal each other, but Chat Noir told her he was not quite ready yet. It had surprised her a lot, but if he needed time, she would let him take it.

Still, it hadn’t kept them from getting even closer than they used to be.

Ladybug wished they could be even closer. She suspected that Chat Noir probably did, too, yet neither of them pushed for it. The very comfortable friendship they had now established was both a blessing and a curse in that regard.

While it was easier for her to stay at her parent’s house for now, Chat Noir had had a new personal studio. It wasn’t big; just the kind of place you’d expect from any average student having to rent a far too expensive place for what it was, courtesy of living in Paris—but it was enough. It was great to plot against their enemy… or for sleepovers, a habit they had taken soon after he got it.

Chat Noir looked at the pile of old magazines she had brought—they were the ones she read as a teenager, the ones she gossiped about with Alya during their sleepovers. She had thought it could be fun to try that with him, even if they were definitely not up to date.

“We forgot to read those!” he exclaimed, getting up.

She watched as he closed his eyes to pick one at random, and brought it back to the bed.

“Which one did you get?”

“Let’s see… oooh, ‘Clara Rossignole is looking for a Ladybug and a Chat Noir for her next music video’”, he read aloud. “Wow. How old is that stuff?”

“Er, I think I must have been fifteen or something so… Seven years old?”

“Amazing! Exactly what I need to keep up with the latest juicy gossip!” He grinned.

Ladybug laughed and leaned on his shoulder to have a better look at the magazine. She remembered that one with this cover very well, it was the one where there was a personality test about—

“‘How compatible are you with teen model Adrien Agreste’, page 21.” Chat Noir fake-gasped. “Spiiicy! Let’s do it!”

As he opened the magazine, Ladybug hoped that it wouldn’t be too obvious to see how easy it was to find the page right away. Despite the years that had passed, the page was still bearing the marks of having been opened and opened again and stared at for far too long, more than any other.

If he noticed, Chat Noir chose not to comment.

He grabbed a four-coloured pen on his nightstand. “Wow, my Lady, that’s a lot of ink on there! We can barely see the little symbols in front of the answers.”

Well. She had had to take the test more than once to get a better score. She’d been aiming for a hundred percent compatibility, a hundred-and-one if she was lucky, or over-compatible—as she should have been back then according to herself.

Not that she would admit that to him.

“I had done it with friends. That’s why it’s so… inky.”

Chat Noir hummed, suspicious, but didn’t push further.

“And it doesn’t work with symbols, it’s a points system. So we can’t cheat,” she added.

She would know. She had tried.

He snorted. “You remember this surprisingly well, Buguinette.”

She didn’t comment on that very accurate observation. Instead, she dropped a kiss on his cheek.

“Why do you want to do that test anyway?”

“Because it’s fun! And to see if I can get a better score than you,” he said.

She scoffed. “As if you would win! I’m unbeatable at this.”

That made him snicker. “Unlike with UNO?”

She glared at him at that and pulled her head away from his shoulder. He brought her back with an arm around her, and kissed her temple apologetically.

She begrudgingly accepted the kiss. Very begrudgingly. (She couldn’t help but smile at the contact of his lips).

(She also couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him).

“So,” Chat Noir went on, “what do we have for the first question… Oooh, ‘which colour is your favourite? Green, Blue, Pink or Red?’,” he raised a brow. “That’s not a lot of choices in my opinion.”

“Blue,” Ladybug automatically answered.

Chat Noir snorted. “No, yours is pink Bugacheat, I know that well enough,” and he circled the answer in red. “However, mine is blue.”

“Maybe I changed favourite colour.”

“No, you didn’t,” he replied flatly. She pouted. “Next question. ‘What is your favourite season?’”

Ladybug pondered. She liked all seasons, after all; they each had their charm.

“Can’t we pick all of them?”

“Well, apparently you can’t because, according to this very accurate magazine, Adrien Agreste has only one favourite season.”

“Write ‘autumn’, then,” she decided.

He circled it in red for her, and circled spring in green for him.

“Okay, ‘how many times do you blink in the span of a minute? Fifteen, eighteen, twenty or twenty-two”, he frowned. “Where did they even get these information?”

“They have very good sources.”

“Sure,” he snorted. “Does Adrien Agreste himself even know the answer to that?”

“Well, of course, it’s in the magazine,” she laughed.

She knew it couldn’t really be trusted, but she liked to take these facts as straight science when she was younger.

“God, these tests are so bad,” Chat Noir shook his head. “How is that suppose to tell you if you’re compatible with him or not?”

“Hey! Don’t criticise my magazine or you’ll offend mini-me!”

“Well, Babybug, I think the questions from your magazine are dumb. And I’m answering… I don’t know... eighteen maybe?”

“Put twenty-two for me,” she said proudly.

She remembered the answer corresponding to Adrien’s to that question, but he didn’t need to know that.

They went on like that through the rest of the test, from morning routine to favourite scent—“Ew, why are one of the answers camembert?”— and gut reaction when faced with an akuma—“you would jump off of a building, Kitty”. Ladybug tried to answer what ‘Adrien’ would do instead of herself, and Chat Noir corrected her each time—“I choose passion fruits!” - “there’s a reason you always take strawberry ice-creams, my Lady. You can’t fool me!” — until they arrived at the end of the test.

“Aaaaand I’ve got a score of…” Chat Noir paused, looking and calculating the results, “eighty-six percent! While you, on the other hand, despite trying to cheat on at least five questions—”

“Hey!”

“—have a score of… Aw, only forty-one!”

“What?!” Ladybug all but screamed.

“Ah, yes, it looks like I beat you Buguinette!” The little shit sounded so proud with himself.

“There’s no way your score is higher than mine,” she said, snatching the magazine from his hands and scrupulously recounting the points herself.

There was no way, indeed.

And yet.

Chat Noir knew how to count, alright. Ladybug was silently fuming.

No, it didn’t matter anymore whether she was compatible with her old crush or not. And yes, the magazine was probably incorrect anyway.

And sure, Adrien was twenty-two now, not fifteen, so his answers would probably not be the same anymore, but still.

She had to defend young-Marinette’s honour.

And in honour of young-Marinette’s past struggles and unconditional love, there was no way Chat Noir of all people could be more compatible with Adrien than herself.

Chat Noir’s laughters brought her out of her shocked horror.

“Aw, don’t pull that face, Bugachups, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose! Maybe you’ll beat me to the next! Say, they don’t have a compatibility test with Chat Noir by any chan—”

“You cheated.” She stated it calmly but coldly. She had to be calm about it. “You must have.”

Chat Noir guffawed. “I’m not you! Also why so upset? Afraid I ruined your chances with…” he took the magazine back from her hands to read the caption under the test’s title, “...Paris’ favourite teenage boy?” He frowned. “Hey, shouldn’t that have been me at the tim—”

“No, I’m not afraid of anything like that,” she grumbled. “It’s just that… I used to know everything there was to know about Adrien Agreste back in the day.”

He blinked. “Everything?!”

“Everything,” she repeated. “Also, I don’t need to do a Chat Noir compatibility test to know that I’d get a hundred percent at it.”

He snickered. “I sure do hope that you’d get a higher score with me than that poor forty-one percent.”

She hit him with her pillow. For making fun of her, and for not having taken the bait.

“Yes,” she insisted, “I’d have a better score and I’d get the highest, thank you very much.”

He gently pinched and squished her cheeks while nuzzling his nose against hers teasingly. “Aaaww, of course we would be the most compatible Buguichou, we’re made for each other!”

Better.

Still, they had become so comfortable with each other now that it could mean everything and nothing.

“Chat Noooiiiiir,” she whined in lieu of pushing further, “stop annoying me!”

He released her and laughed. “You love it when I annoy you!”

Yes.

“No.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Anyway.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “What was it about you knowing everything there was to know about teen model, Paris' darling extraordinaire Adrien Agreste?”

She groaned. “Please can we not?”

“No. I want to know more about the boy I’m eighty-six percent compatible with, Bugaboo! And who better to teach me all I need to know other than the finest expert you aaaaar—”

She snatched the magazine back from his hands and swatted him with it.

“You’re” —swat— “not” —swat— “more compatible than me” —hit— “with Adrien” she had him pinned on the bed and he was giggling, trying and failing to push her away, “because I had the biggest crush” —swat— “on him and I was” —swat— “in love with him, do you understand?”

She stopped hitting him to throw him her deadliest look.

“Wait, what?” he said, still grinning from the fight. “You were in love with him like… in love love?”

She crossed her arms. “Yes, I was in love love with him.”

He snorted. And then, slowly, his body shook more and more, the laughters coming from him getting louder and louder.

“You—,” he choked, raising a finger in her direction, “you were in love with Adrien Agreste when we were fifteen.”

She sighed. “Yes, I was in love with Adrien Agreste. Go on, laugh all you want, ‘ha-ha-ha, Ladybug was in love with Hawkmoth’s son, ha-ha,’ so funny.”

“Oh my god, yes, Ladybug in love with our enemy’s son,” he kept laughing. “Waaait, wait wait, hold on, that’s excellent but… when you told me you were in love with someone else, back then…”

Her stomach fluttered at the memory that yes, Chat Noir used to be in love with her.

“...Does that mean that he was the boy you were referring to?” he looked at her expectantly.

She didn’t reply.

“He was?!" he exclaimed. “Ladybug, that’s… that’s… that’s hilarious!” and he was back laughing, even louder than before.

She glared at him, before grabbing her pillow once again and hitting him with it.

“No, no—I’ll stop, I’ll stop! But you don’t understand, this is so funny!”

“I really don’t see why.” And with that she lay down on the bed and turned around, her back to him. “Adrien is a very sweet person, I had great taste.”

Today, however, by loving Chat Noir? Maybe not so much, she decided.

A warm hand settled on her arm.

(She still had great tastes).

“Say, my Lady… if you were to meet that Adrien boy today and he were to ask you on a date… would you say yes?” She could still hear the remainder of his amusement in his voice, but he seemed to have calmed down, now.

She turned around to face him. He was lying on the side, propped on one elbow with his head resting on his hand. She pondered his question a few seconds. She hadn’t seen Adrien in a while, after all.

And… there was someone else now. She wasn’t fifteen anymore.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

He was rubbing small circles on her arm.

“Oh?” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “What would fifteen-year-old-Bugbooboo think about that?”

She snorted. “She wouldn’t believe I’d ever say that. She’d think I lost my mind.”

He chuckled with her.

She frowned. “But… well, we all change when we grow up and… Adrien is probably still a great person. And I mean, with what he had to go through, I admire him a lot. But also, there’s some—… there’s… there’s...”

“There’s what?”

You.

“Chat Nooiiir,” she tugged at the kwagatama around his neck instead, and raised her eyes to his. She bit her lip. “You know.”

She couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. Even after all these years, confessing was still something she found herself struggling with. But she kept his gaze as he silently searched hers; she wouldn’t back away or hide from it.

She kept it as he slowly took the hand that was fiddling with his necklace and lifted it to his lips. Kept it as he gently kissed the tips of her fingers. As she felt a shiver and the heat rising to her cheeks and was sure he could see it, too.

And she still kept his gaze as he lowered their hands on the mattress, and caressed hers with his thumb.

He knew.

And he reciprocated. She put a hand on his cheek, and slowly brought her face closer to his. She was about to close her eyes and the gap between them when a finger on her lips interrupted her.

Chat Noir closed his eyes, letting a small smile tug at his lips. Took a deep breath. Exhaled.

Opened his eyes again and looked right into hers.

“What if…” he said nervously, almost as a murmur, a deep contrast to his amusement from earlier. “What if I told you that… that you could have both? In one person.”

Her eyes widened. She sat up suddenly and grabbed his face. Did he mean that—

“Chaton?!” she said surprised —questioning. Her eyes frantically searched his.

He took one of her hands and brought it to his mask. And slowly nodded.

Carefully, shaking, she removed the home-sewed mask from his face.

His eyes were closed, but it was the unmistakable face of Adrien that met her. And older Adrien, an Adrien who was still the same but also so different.

An Adrien who was Chat Noir, and had always been—an Adrien that she knew more than she could have possibly thought.

As he opened his eyes to look at her, she took both his hands and kissed them. She noticed that she was crying when she saw tears dropping on his ring. She didn’t care.

It suddenly hit her that this boy had had to fight against his own father—and that it was certainly why he hadn’t been ready to show himself before. What he just did now, finally revealing himself to her—this was huge.

But looking at his gaze, soft from her actions, and feeling his hand wiping her tears away, she decided that it was probably not something he wanted to discuss now. And she didn’t want to ruin their moment, their reveal, with pity and talks about his father: the very thing he had probably tried to avoid when he was still insecure about who he was under the mask.

She giggled through her tears. “You’re beautiful,” is what first made its way out of her mouth.

That made him laugh and oh god, she was making him cry too now.

“Take off my mask. Please,” she whispered, kissing his fingers once more.

He sat up next to her, are gently put a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Then, he did as she told—and gasped.

“You—you’re Marinette!”

She giggled again. “And you’re Adrien!”

“I was thinking about you the other day. I was wondering how you were doing and…” he trailed off.

“And now you know!”

“And now I know!” he grinned. “You’re wonderful… I missed you so much but… it also sounds weird to say that now, doesn’t it?”

“Well… we could still catch up, around a coffee and uh… is this date with both Chat Noir and Adrien still on the table?” she asked.

Was she being a bit too straight forward? Probably. But she had troubles to control her mouth right now.

“When will it not?” he breathed.

She squealed and wiggled on her spot, grabbing his face. But before she could come closer to him, she faltered and stopped, remembering his finger on her lips a few minutes before.

“Uh, can I kiss you this time?”

He chuckled, a soft blush gracing his cheeks—and kissed her in answer.

She immediately closed her eyes at the contact of his lips and kissed him back—slowly, deeply, tasting him as much as she could. He tilted his head to give her a better access, and she climbed on his laps to be more comfortable—and closer to him.

Marinette lost count of how many times they came back for each other, of how many times their lips met, or their tongues. She felt so happy and so good—so in love.

When they separated and looked at each other, shy and giddy smiles on their faces, she couldn’t help but drop another tender kiss on his cheek, and caressed it afterwards.

“Now I know what you found so funny earlier,” she told him.

“It’s hilarious, right? We were so dumb!”

“We still are,” she added.

“We definitely still are. I can’t believe I didn’t know that Marinette was in love with me in collège, wow.”

“Is in love with you,” she corrected, still caressing his cheeks. “Present tense.”

She would always remember the look on his face when she said it. He was in love with her too, there was no doubt about it.

Suddenly, she was hit with a realisation and looked at him in horror. “Wait a minute. That means… That I have only forty-one percent compatibility with Chat Noir?!”

Adrien burst out laughing. “My Laaaady, you can’t seriously believe these tests, right?”

“Well, no, but we still should have way more compatibility than forty-one percent. Who even has that with their super-hero partner?”

“Marinette,” he said, amused, “my Bugabisous…I don’t even have a hundred percent with myself. It would be hard to live in my own head.”

She blinked. “You’re right. That test is dumb. But how do we know if we’re the most compatible then?”

Adrien chuckled, and put his hands around her waist, bringing her closer to him. “Well, you’re the Guardian, I think you can make up the rules for that.”

She put her arms around his neck. “That’s true. Then I decide that we’re a hundred percent compatible.”

“A hundred percent, uh?”

Their foreheads were touching now.

“A hundred-and-one,” she whispered against his lips, and she kissed him.

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cursesavior · 10 months ago

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"True love's kiss, hm? I didn't take you for the type to believe in that kind of thing." He hums, before he shoots him an odd look, halfway between annoyed and amused. "Oh, right, because I'm soooo mean to you." He sticks his tongue out right back at him, despite how immature it was - he prides himself on being well put-together, reserved, and polite, the upstanding member of society his parents had always taught him to be, but when he was with Satoru? Maybe his flippant attitude rubbed off on him, but something about being with him always had him acting... Out of line. Like a carefree teenager with none of the responsibilities that were set heavy upon their shoulders. Their differences often have them butting heads, but it was so freeing at the same time, even if he'd never admit something like that. A more thoughtful expression settles on his features when his friend insists he tell him what he wants - but that's just the problem, isn't it? He gives a little shrug, certainly not making things easier for Satoru with his indecision. "Mm, I dunno. I guess I'll let you know if I see anything..." The chances of him actually pointing something out and asking that he buy it for him were slim, though. Not very helpful, is he?

"Ah, good idea - I bet we could find a cute charm for her somewhere around here. And there's no way you're still growing - you're already too tall as it is. Though, putting on a little more muscle wouldn't hurt." As if Suguru isn't nearly the same height as him, only falling short by a handful of centimeters. The pouty look on his face makes him smile a little more, the way his bottom lip juts out all too familiar and filling him with a sort of fond warmth. He could scold him all he wanted for being childish, but he couldn't deny that he found it endearing at the same time. And, admittedly, the clarification that the ice dog was more of an ice cream sandwich than some kind of combined meat and frozen dairy abomination made it sound a hell of a lot more appetizing. He's not that hungry, really, a subtle nausea twisting in his gut from the cursed spirit he'd absorbed on their mission earlier - but getting the taste out of his mouth with a sweet treat might help, no? "Three? Well, I don't doubt you'll be able to wolf down two by yourself. Seriously, I don't know how you stay in shape with all the junk you eat..." He teases, lightly nudging his side with his elbow. "But alright, I'll try one with you. I know you'll finish mine if I don't like it, anyways. Are you hungry? Do you want to go there first?" He'd intended on getting snacks after they were done souvenir shopping, but knowing Satoru, he'd want to fill up on sweets as soon as possible.

the grin continues to be displayed on cocky features. ❛ whaat? i could be your prince charming, true love's kiss and that bullshit. mmm..i guess you'll only be nice to be in my dreams, huh?❜ he sticks out his tongue at the other before putting a hand in his pocket. he can only imagine what they look like to others, to civilians they probably look like ordinary high school students operating on delinquent hours. it would be amusing to see someone try to pick a fight with the both of them. ❛ so tell me what you want suguru. ❜ even if suguru had said no, satoru would have found a way to grab him something & surprise him on the train ride back home.

he knows they should grab something thoughtful for shoko considering she'd never been on a mission since her only one. it was..a traumatizing situation for all three of them, but it highlighted suguru & satoru's team work. ❛ a keychain and...❜ he takes the time to tap his fingers against his chin. ❛ what about those cellphone charms? girls like those. i'm a growing boy, don't knock my appetite.❜ maybe there was a matching set somewhere in one of these shops. satoru knows suguru is right since he probably would take the souvenir for himself & eat it all the way back to school, he wouldn't feel guilt for it. there's a chuckle when he listens to suguru's initial reaction & he thought that way too but he had seen a few pictures floating around & he knew he had to try it. ❛ don't make that face, you haven't even tried it! it's like an ice cream sandwich. ❜ lips pull into a pout since satoru would try anything that was sweet, a range of: cookies, ice cream, ramune candy, to pastries. ❛ think i can get away with ordering three? one for you, two for me. ❜ his mouth is watering at the thought of it. satoru hopes they are headed their first before souvenir shopping for shoko.

#— i get dark only to shine / IN CHARACTER.#— our blue spring / V; STUDENT.#gohjuo #thank you!! lasik went great haha #and dw abt reply times!! it's all good :]

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daily-jaspvid · 4 years ago

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Your Ex-Lover Is Dead - Jaspvid fluff

This is the first chapter of my prequel series. This takes place the winter before the show takes place, in which Jasper happens upon David at a party.

This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it is quickly turning into at least 3 chapters. I can’t post the second chapter here, but chapters 1 and 3 will be here! No plot happens in chapter 2, just NSFT content heh.

also the title song! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r5Or6-HOveg

Here's part 1! Merry Christmas!

Gem insisted this party would be good; that she had seen this band perform before and how great they were live. With nothing better to do, I decided to tag along. After all, finals were over and we were due to celebrate before we headed home for winter break.

When we arrived Gem was immediately distracted by the punch bowl conversation. From how many people stopped to greet her, I was reminded of how gregarious my friend was compared to me. Not wanting to harsh her style too much, I took my cup of punch towards the dance floor. From the looks of it, the band was starting to set up, so the waiting stereo pumped out indie tunes.

I idly bopped along to a familiar song when a firm force bumps me from behind. I stagger, holding out my drink to steady it. In the next beat, I feel hands brace my waist to steady me. The hands are warm, firm, but didn’t feel of ill intent.

“Oh, sorry about that!” Chirped an equally as warm voice. I turn and the hands pop off me like old stickers peeling away. I see an auburn-haired man who offered a genuinely sorry smile. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied abruptly as anxiety swelled in me. Sure, I was expecting to meet a few new people today, but a cute ginger boy right off the bat? I guess Christmas was coming early.

He wore a red button down and a pair of blue jeans. He appeared to be wearing a band tee, but I can’t figure out who in particular. His face shown with simply the brightest smile I have seen in years. It felt familiar.

“So, uh… you ever see this band before?” I ask after a few awkward seconds of standing together.

“I haven’t. Honestly, this is the first party I’ve been to this semester. I’ve been pretty busy between classes and student teaching. You?”

“Pretty much the same. I’m studying to be a writer. Not as exciting, I’m sure, but it’s an excuse to spend all my free time reading at home.” I admit with a quick and strained smile. Before he could respond, Gem came upon us with one of her friends.

“Hey, you two! See, Cathy? I told you they would get along! We didn’t even have to enact the master plan!” Gem exclaimed, causing Cathy to stifle a laugh.

“David, you’ve met Gem from my psych class,” she motioned to the mutual friend. “So you must be her friend from therapy, was it?”

I shoot Gem a look, which she just shrugged to. Damn psych majors and their gossip. “Yes, Jasper,” I confirm, offering my hand to her. She gives it a firm and professional shake.

“Isn’t he just the cutest, Cathy? Hes such a little crab! It took me weeks to convince him to come!” Gem lamented. She moved in front of me to adjust my clothing, tugging at my popped collar to lay it down. I grimace, hand twitching with a desire to hide my exposed neck. I see David’s eyes flicker down to my neck before looking away, tension filling into his eyes. That was most people’s reaction when they see the scars there. The polite ones, anyway.

The conversation was cut short by the music lowering and a mic switching on. The band introduced themselves as Florist and began playing their easy, folky tunes to the milling crowd. Gem scurried off through the crowd to get closer while Gem hung back to tap away at her phone. Just as quickly as they came, I was once again left alone with the lithe ginger. I spent most of the set watching him from my peripherals. He swayed gently to the music, expression fixated intently on the band. He seemed to pour all of his focus into them and I could feel the aura force field around him, seeming to block everything else out.

Before I could fully process his energy the set was already over. The band thanked us for listening and the previous playlist switched back on. By this point, people were beginning to collect their friends and head out. David seemed to be remembering his place among the crowd and looked around. Our eyes catch each other’s and I find my voice springing out before really even considering my words.

“Hey. You wanna get some coffee?” The words tumble out, and by the time I get to the end of the statement, I can feel myself quivering with unease. If David picked up on this he didn’t show it.

“Yeah, sure! I’d love to!” He chimed. David caught Cathy’s attention to let her know the plan. I felt a little bad about ditching Gem, but it wasn’t like she seemed very keen on hanging around me. It’s what she would want.

When we stepped outside it was, unfortunately, pouring rain. Freezing rain. I unrolled my sleeves to save myself from the cold a little bit.

“Damn, so much for getting anywhere in this. I’ll call us a Lyft.” We hung out on the porch while I set up the ride.

Despite the weather, it arrived within minutes. We ducked in, only made mildly damn. Though the café was only a few blocks away, it felt longer in the silence. Once again I found myself watching him from the corner of my eye. As we turned the block the side of the road through his window showed the dark abyss of dense forest. His reflection in the window became water-warped, and the familiarity finally clicked. I let out a quick huff of my breath, catching his attention.

“Davey?” I asked tentatively. His head snapped up from his phone, eyes wide. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

“Nobody calls me that. Not since I was a kid - except for Mr. Campbell, but-” He paused, his confused expression shifting to concern as I recoil at the name “Campbell”. Memories of my 11th summer come crashing back to me and I suddenly feel ill. As if on cue, our driver stops to drop us off. I have never been more thankful to stand in the pouring rain.

“Come on, you’ll get soaked to the bone!” David exclaimed, grabbing my hand to pull me into the café.

Thankfully this place had good heating. The cozy café had few patrons. Most people were either at parties or already homeward bound to family. We stepped up to order and it wasn’t until the barista gave us a knowing smile that we realized we were still holding hands. Flustered, we take turns ordering our drinks.

“So… You’re the Jasper I knew all those years ago? From summer camp? It’s been, what, 13 years? Man, it must really be a small world, huh?” He sighed nostalgically.

“Honestly, I’m surprised I recognized you,” I admit with a shrug. “I guess I remember more about that last summer than I thought. For a long time it was such a blur, to be honest.”

We collected our drinks and headed to a space heater in the back of the café. It had a couple of chairs surrounding it that we settled in to. David flopped into his with a heavy, content sigh. I sat more forwardly in mine, resting my elbows on my knees and leaning towards the warmth. I felt numb, like neither the aching cold nor the radiating heat could break through to me.

“You seem sad.” David’s voice broke through the silence once again. It was low and tender as he leaned over to me.

“I’m fine, really, just… a lot is coming back to me, is all,” I chew on my lip and spoke through grit. “A lot of not great thing happened that last summer we knew each other. Not great things that lead to worse things. It isn’t your fault, of course, It's just… forget it.”

David reached out a hand and placed it on my leg, giving it a squeeze. his eyes scanned as if searching for the right words to say but ultimately decided to remain quiet. We sat like this for a few minutes before I pulled out my phone.

“Hey, can I have your number? I’d like to keep in touch again if that's ok?”

“Of course! I would love to catch up!” Davey perked up as he received my phone and punched in his number. “So, what do you like to write?”

Hours soon had drifted by as we conversed. I soaked in every smile and laugh. Craved every new emotion I could draw out of his expressive being. Anything he had to give, really. Davey radiated with life. It poured out of his being, passion radiating like a star.

Oh, God.

I can’t be falling in love.

I feel my breath hitch as I suck in air. Davey notices and pauses his story to ask if I was alright, only for the clock to ding for 4 am. Shit.

“You can crash at my place if you’d like.” he offers as we stand. I feel like I am going to faint back into the chair. Clearing my voice and adjusting my flannel, I nod.

“I’d like that more than anything right now.” I reply, taking up his offer and hoping I don’t sound too desperate. Just like that, we set back off into the rain and caught a ride across town to his apartment.

#jaspvid #cc jaspvid #cc jasper #cc david #mod jasper #writings

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markeffie · 3 years ago

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seafaring-x-squid · 4 years ago

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1. Believe - The Bravery

Arlo doesn’t know why he wakes up in the morning. His days have become a revolving cycle of teaching the same lessons but to different children who will grow up to replace Grisha lost to the war effort. Some days he feels as though he’s burnt out and going through the same circular motions -- like blood pumping through ventricles, and other days... other days he sees the children and holds out hope that he can give them something better than a war to die in.

2. September - Earth Wind & Fire

His mother was from Novyi Zem originally, and she was a Zowa plucked from her home and cast to indenture in Kerch before she finally found her way in Ravka. Despite the rough steps of her life, Arlo never once saw his mother without a smile on her face, or a song on her lips, and he learned the ways of the heart at her elbow.

There is a rhythm to things, love, his mother would tell him as she soothed his tantrums by brushing the curls from his face and slowing his heartbeat ever-so-slightly. You’re part of that rhythm now.

3. The Brightest of the Head (Acoustic) - Starflyer 59

His initial days at the Little Palace were spent sprawled out on the grass in spring during lessons with a sharpened stick of charcoal and a few sheaths of paper. Arlo vaguely paid the instructor mind, but instead worked on capturing the way his fellow heartrenders’ kefta fluttered so effortlessly in the breeze.

And when the instructor finally realized what he was doing and called on him to answer a question, Arlo easily produced the answer and went right on back to drawing.

“Show off” another heartrender grumbled.

4. Colour in your hands - D.L.i.D., Fink

Arlo thought his first instance of battle would be brief, fleeting, and filled with glory. He thought he’d be calm and collected as he stepped onto the front, red kefta marking him as the enemy’s nightmare as he sought out heartbeats to still.

Instead, he felt... too many pulses beating so quickly and so frantically before falling still in the night. Arlo heard screams into the dark night in the distance as men and women around him fell.

Life was a rhythm... life was a great song... but this was all just noise.

But Ravka demanded noise, glory, victory, and -- above all things -- the death of its enemies, and Arlo could only reach out and oblige.

5. Weapons V - Son Lux

He took to chewing jurda on the battlefield until his lips were stained orange. Arlo knew it would just keep him alert, as if he were drinking tea or a steaming cup of coffee, but it helped steady his hands every time his commander would send him into position.

“Let the genius do it, since he’s so keen on a promotion,” the older woman would bark before waving him off to silently slaughter Fjerdans or Shu from an unseen vantage.

6. Unstoppable - Sia

It was an honor to serve with such distinction. It was an honor to serve Ravka so faithfully. It was an honor to be considered for the position of an instructor at such a young age.

Honor didn’t erase the haunting memory of dead Grisha of all orders staring at him from the battlefields of his nightmares.

They were those that he knew... and they had burned so brightly, only to be snuffed out at the hands of a bullet or an ambush or a volcra.

It was a honor to die for one’s country, though...

And when one of his closest friends decided that honor was not enough for what they’d sacrificed and talked of leaving, Arlo defended all that they had done and remained.

His friend took flight, and Arlo stayed behind for the children and for the future.

Those who couldn’t run away taught, after all.

7. Turn the lights off - Tally Hall

It was the greatest gift to watch the youngest clumsy, little Grisha grow into full fledged adults...

It was the worst thing imaginable to see those children bedecked in blue and purple and red go off in carriages and skiffs into battle that would claim their lives, or into the Fold that would swallow them up whole.

8. Icarus - Bastille

He wasn’t a commander, and although some of the Grisha gave up their families upon being named Grisha, Arlo made a point of writing to the families left behind.

Your son died to protect our great country.

Your daughter was lost in the fold, but those who survived the crossing claimed she died valiantly and with great courage.

Fuck valiant and courageous.

Fuck the great country.

Dead was dead, and there was no coming back from that.

9. Eyes Wide Open - Gotye

He wondered if he was the only one who realized that they were all essentially prisoners -- life and liberty dedicated to Ravka from the moment training was finished. There was no room for anything but war and death and fighting the enemy.

“I’m sending you away to give you a better life,” his mother had told him when she’d had him tested. “I’m sending you away so that nobody can hurt you like they hurt me when I was young.”

For someone who understood life’s rhythm so keenly, Arlo wondered if his mother realized that The Second Army was just indenture under a prettier name.

10. Smile - Eyedea and Abilities

It was a rare occurrence that saw Arlo pulled from his post at the Little Palace, but occasionally he’d be called away to serve as a tester for potential Grisha throughout Ravka or even elsewhere in the world. He saw the children in orphanages hoping and wishing to be everything he was, and he saw the graffiti marking dingy brick buildings: Fuck the king.

Grisha or not, it was amusing that they shared the same sentiments.

11. All the Rowboats - Regina Spektor

He stopped seeing the Grisha around him as Heartrender or Healer or Squaller or Durast. He stopped seeing them as Kaelish or Fjerdan donated or Ravkan through and through.

They were future corpses dancing on strings, even him.

12. The Hand That Feeds - Nine Inch Nails

His connection with the person he’d nicknamed Canary was tenuous at best. Arlo may have been hurt by his friend’s abandonment, but he didn’t want to alert any spies or -- Saints forbid -- The Druskelle to their presence.

He never used their name, never alluded to a location -- they were a canary on the wind and free.

Sometimes Arlo wondered what it would have been like if he had taken to the sea with his friend and put Ravka behind him.

13. Kids with Guns - Gorillaz

Maybe it wasn’t too late...

Maybe he could gather up Canary’s sister -- a heartrender with a penchant for asking just the right questions that he could barely dance around -- and a few of the other children...

No, all the children... as many as he could take with him.

Maybe he’d find a way to get them to Noyvi Zem where they could really be free...

Maybe he’d open a school where the children could learn without the war looming like a stormcloud or the shadow of the Fold.

Maybe they could be more than soldiers and teachers who made soldiers out of children.

But did he dare?

14. Papaoutai - Stromae

“Marishka says my brother tried to run through the fold like a coward and he was eaten by Volkra and that’s why he doesn’t write me back.”

“I don’t even remember my parents, but they weren’t Grisha, so they don’t really matter, do they?”

“My father practically sold me to the Grisha who came to test me. I guess I was just one less mouth he had to feed.”

The stories differ, but Arlo sees how they all end: little boys and girls in kefta taking combat lessons on the lawn of the Little Palace and trying to see which of them can possibly out beat the rest of them.

Arlo had once been that boy. Fighting had been as effortless to him as everything else.

Watch Konstantinov over there. He’s dancing around you fools, his instructor had shouted in praise as he sparred with another heartrender who was eager to topple him on his back and prove that she could be better.

It was strange to see different children playing the same games he played long ago in hopes of winning the same stupid prizes in time.

15. Little Mercy - Doomtree

Canary,

I hope this letter finds you well if it finds you at all. Your little sister asks after you every week at the Little Palace when she sees the Post come through only to find her little hands empty, and I’ve run out of pleasant lies and stories to fill the void that undoubtedly swallowed you up. I’ve heard that the Fold is a thing of nightmares, and I hope you’ll come back and tell them to me over cups of kvas and say nothing of horror to your little sister who tries to listen to the pace of my heart to tell if I’m lying to her.

I’ve gotten good at lying, Canary, and I’m the one who taught her the trick, but one day…

One day it’s going to be you. One day it’ll be another of my students’ brothers or sisters. One day it’ll be them on those skiffs thinking that they’re heroes in blue and red and purple meant to be Ravka’s shining savior when they’re really just destined to disappear in the fucking dark because I never taught them to abandon the Saints forsaken ship before it sinks.

16. I love You - Woodkid

Sometimes members of the Second Army return on leave from their posts, and Arlo can catch up with students he’d taught as well as other friends who remained in active combat. Some of them beam with such pride when recounting the foes that they’ve conquered and killed, and the battles they won.

It was a pride he used to carry, back when Ravka had been the country of his mother’s dreams -- the safe haven that her son could grow and develop his talents in.

And he had given so much to Ravka, but what had it given back to him?

17. Honesty - Editors

The notion of sharing a drink with Sayana never would have crossed Arlo’s mind years ago if only because Sayana herself never crossed his mind as anything but the occasional nuisance.

But there they are, the instructors on an evening off while the Little Palace roars in raucous celebration of some Saint’s day or another, and they’re drinking... something out of a hip flask that smells like paint thinner and burns on the way down but takes the edge off in just the right way.

The children have their fun, and they have their own. They joke about the past -- about her desire to prove herself, and the way he’d been such an insufferable ass who couldn’t see past his own slacker genius ego, but there’s an unspoken thing hidden between their laughter and jokes and the swig of... whatever the fuck it was she’d brought.

They were two broken people, and perhaps they were broken in different ways, but it didn’t change what they were:

A future that Arlo wanted to avoid.

18. Holocene - Bon Iver

And it hurts me to admit it, but Ravka is sinking, and it has been for a while. My Ma sent me to the Little Palace with a hand pressed to my chest:

“Feel that rhythm, child. That is the life within you. Lose yourself in it and lose yourself in the rhythm of others before you stop.”

Do you know what I feel in Ravka’s rhythm?

A flagging pulse.

Old Kings sending others to war in their own stead.

19. Talking to Myself - Watsky

There was no letter announcing his parents’ deaths. Arlo knew where their homestead was, just as he knew that a battle was slowly encroaching upon the golden fields of his youth.

He found out from a casualty report and the Grisha tasked with reading it made “civilian casualties” sound more like the collateral damage than the tragedy building up in his mind.

Arlo went in person to the house he had been born in and grown up in. Someone had already dug graves -- the kindness of rural neighbors on perfect display.

Feel that rhythm, child.

Arlo reached out to try and find a pulse beneath the Ravkan soil.

Lose yourself in that rhythm and the rhythm of others before you stop.

Saints, sometimes he just wished he could.

20. O Children - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

Maybe you ran away and had the right idea, Canary, or maybe you’re just another rhythm gone still in the dark.

Maybe one day it will be me. Maybe I’ll vanish in the dark, or maybe I’ll take your sister and as many as I can save and run for better pastures…

Or maybe I’ll just stop altogether.

-AK

#grishasteelrpg

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