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palmtreesx3 · 1 year ago

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Act 3 - Getting Lucky

Praise Kink (Robin's Chapter)

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Series Summary: (11.2k) Fall is settling in in the Windy City, and Steve and Robin are swept up in their overthinking. The pair are left to their own devices at the shop while Murray is off traveling to Sex Toy conventions. Robin and Alex have grown closer and are the perfect pair, but Robin’s growing a bit of a complex because the relationship isn’t quite a s reciprocal as she’d like, so she calls in the reserves to give her the tutorial she needs to overcome her trepidation and dive right in. In order to repay Steve for his thorough tutorial, the girls start to meddle, because if they can see one thing, it’s that Steve loves a good self-sabotage. Everyone’s a little concerned over the opinions of others and seeking praise and reassurance in all the wrong places, so grab a cozy blanket, be a good girl and enjoy this chapter of Get Off.

Warnings: it's a sex shop and generally just NSFW so 18+. Sex paraphernalia, dildos of all variety, sexual innuendo aplenty, eating pussy and explicit descriptions of said act, dirty talk and praise kink, allusions to jerking off.

“I swear to Christ. ROB! I know you have it!” Steve shouts out as he’s pacing through the apartment corridor looking everywhere but nowhere all at once. The pacing was more of a nervous habit, looking like a mother who is trying to walk off her frustration before she loses her cool on her lovely, doe eyed child after they broke the expensive family vase. Speaking from experience as the boy who knocked over said vase…he’s probably picked up a few mannerisms from his mother, now that he thinks about it. Back when she had time for him. He shakes his head in annoyance - at Robin and his childhood - hands flailing in the air above his head “You gotta fuckin stay out of my closet!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Steve.” Her head pops out of the bathroom, looking down the hall at her friend who is zipping between his room and hers.

“You still have BOXES in there Robin. BOXES. We’ve lived here six months. SIX. We’ve gone through an entire season. It’s fall now. Please for the love of God, unpack your things. How do you find anything in there?”

“I know where my things are, thank you very much. I just happen to enjoy some of the things from your closet, so sue me.”

Steve is exasperated with his friend. He has been dealing with Robin encouraging him to spend every last extra dollar he has after bills, beers at Benny’s and whatever else they do to fill their time to buy new clothing because his “style is like a billboard asking for abstinence in this city,” yet she is sticking her nose in there every other day stealing pieces of clothing he’s had for years. “One man’s trash is another lesbian’s treasure” she tells him every time he bitches about the double standard.

“I fuckin told you. Hands off the yellow sweater. Off limits. That and this jacket….they’re NOT getting traded in. They are not fair game. Got it?” he’s glaring at her, one hand on his hip, the other holding up a steely gray Members Only jacket she still can’t believe hasn’t been ruined from all of the bullshit it’s been through back at home.

“Yeah yeah, It’s a great layering piece, can you even blame me? How do you even still have that thing, anyway? Like, how wasn’t it ruined after Billy clocked you right in the nose?”

“ROBIN. SHUT UP!” he shouts, storming off to his room to get ready for their shift.

“Love you too, Dingus!”

Robin finishes readying herself for their afternoon at work, stepping out of the bathroom after perfectly smudging her imperfect eye pencil and adding a red lip that rivals the auburn in her hair. Fiery undertones just like the girl. Her lips, her hair, her personality - they all match her new red Doc Martin boots that she’s really just awful complaining about. She heard all about it - how hard it was to break those fuckers in. Got some tips from the Queens at The Rainbow Room that she’s gone back to now for shows numerous times since that first night. Alex asked her upwards of 10 times if she was sure she wanted them and if she was ready for the commitment to breaking them in so they don’t lay dead like a fashion sacrifice at the back of her closet. Told Steve all about how she was going to push through and how it couldn’t be that bad.

Well…it was. It was that bad - and Robin is not built to stick it out. She’s not formulated to power through. The problem is, she wants to wear them. Needs to wear them. They look good. So she settles on the only thing she’s ever been able to do to distract her from her pain (emotional and physical) and that’s: Never shut up and complain about it non-stop but only to Steve and take her entire bad mood out on Steve. Needless to say…Steve is tired.

Steve is in the kitchen, two brown bags perched on the counter top. “Apple or banana Robbie?” he asks, holding up one of each in the air. “Banana. Definitely.” she smirks, as he tosses it in the bag, labeled with scrawling chicken scratch Robin along the front in pen. She leans against the counter as he wraps up two sandwiches, tosses in some snacks and folds over the bag before handing it to her.

“Thanks mom.”

Steve doesn’t grace her with a response. He just rolls his eyes as he tosses on his jacket and grabs his keys. “Let’s go, loser. And don’t drag your feet in those boots. Pick them up and fuckin walk. We got a shift to get to.”

The lock clanks as Steve opens up the front door and clicks on the neon sign in the window to designate the shop is open for business. Murray handed Steve the keys last week before he headed off to Las Vegas for an annual Adult Industry Product Conference. Showed Steve the brochure for Sensual Revolution '93 and told him "Maybe I'll bring ya along next year, big boy. Just take care of my baby while I'm gone and you never know! I might just upgrade you from Sex Shop Employee to Sex Shop Supervisor."

Not that Steve had aspirations to move up in the world of The Hideout and make a career out of it, but if Steve could tide off his father a little longer by being able to tell him that he's a Retail Supervisor that might buy him a little more time without hearing about how bullshit his work is.

"We're open Rob! I'm gonna go restock the shelves in the back."

"Yeah buddy. I got the register! I still can't believe that massive rush on massage oils last week. I still wanna know what sparked that… " she trails off.

Everything seems fine for the rest of the morning until the loud hiss of a massive delivery truck arrives out front, blocking up the narrow lanes of the city streets, horns honking and shouts out the passenger side windows starting immediately. Robin perks up, setting all four legs of her wooden stool back on the ground.

“Uh, Dingus? Are we expecting a delivery?”

“No…what are you talking about Robin?” Steve shouts from his spot, crouched down in the back stocking the lower shelves. He hears the bell ding, and just as he stands up to peer out and what’s going on he sees the delivery hat of a man at the counter and the expansive vista of the biggest delivery truck he’s ever seen show up at the shop covering every inch of space their front windows have to offer.

Robin's eyes widen as she reads the delivery slip, "Urgent: Assorted dildos for The Hideout."

She bellows out a laugh, not once looking up from the packing slip she still holds in her hands. “Steve. The man says you need to sign for these.”

“What the fuck is it Rob?” And with that, she silently extends the paper out to her friend. He snatches it quickly as she holds back her chuckling, rumbles leaving her nose that emanates in the back of her throat. His eyes scan the form until he gets to the bottom, reading the slip he does a double take. with an unexpected, jaw-dropping inventory of various dildos, more than they could ever imagine.

“I’m not…I can’t sign for this! He didn’t say a goddamn thing about any delivery let alone this! It can’t be right. Nope…. I…no.”

Steve’s still rambling a bit as he walks out the front door to the truck, along with the driver. Robin’s lips are curled up in a permanent smile as she chomps on her doublemint gum, getting the worlds biggest kick out of watching Steve pacing back and forth on the concrete, hands alternating between flailing in the air and resting on his hips in a stance that looks both like dominance and defeat all wrapped into one.

Before long, Steve comes barreling through the front door, pushed open by force with both hands, finding them raised up by his ears in surrender and shaking his head in irritation. “They’re bringing them in Rob. It’s 10 pallets. 10 PALLETS OF DILDOS. I don’t even know where we’re gonna stick all these dicks. Jesus.”

“TEN? What the fuck? What happened?”

“Apparently Murray’s having a grand old time in Vegas. Did a little bulk ordering at the conference. Got them shipped direct and told the company Harrington’s got em.” his face scrunches up as he mocks Murray’s intonations.

“No…it’s fine. It’s cool. We’ve got it. We’ll figure it out.”

“Steve…for two people who have never handled that much dick in their entire lives, I’m a little skeptical.”

“No, no…if Murray were here…what stupid shit would he have us doing?”

And with that, Steve sets off. He immediately figures that Murray would be blasting off directions for him to unload the goods, so after ripping open the wrapping of the pallets himself…he instead naturally gives that job to Robin. Figuring Murray wants to offload the old inventory, Steve gets some sale information ready and decides to mark down everything on the floor - sure as shit that Murray got some new and improved models, fancier faux cocks, better colors, better…whatever bells and whistles. He doesn’t care really…he just needs to make room.

After running off a huge stack of flyers on the copier in Murray’s office, he tells Robin he’s heading out. With a groan from the girl that echoed in the storeroom, he promised he’d return with a fresh cup of coffee and her favorite muffin if she’d just shut the fuck up about it. “But Steeeve” she groans “I can’t look at any more of these. Look at this one! It’s an actual monster cock. It’s got tentacles!”

“Aw, ew, gross.” his nose scrunches up and he turns on the balls of his feet, the new black chucks already fading a bit since they’re suddenly all he’s wearing - the red swoosh of his Nike Cortez’ tucked back a little further in his closet than they’d ever have been before. He jogs out the front door, stack of thin copy papers tucked as best he can under his arms,

It’s a warm fall day today, sun heating up the streets in the warmth of the afternoon, as he maneuvers the busy city sidewalks, tails of his unbuttoned shirt trailing behind him, a well-worn black band t-shirt he picked up from the Goodwill downtown tucked into his denim. He almost didn’t pay any mind to the shirt as he scoured for his size in the bin laid out before him, but threw it on top of his pile anyway after reading the band scrawled across the front - Pearl Jam.

Steve’s on a mission. He’s trying to get down the street to some of their notorious partners so he can tack up a flyer on their community board, or leave a stack of them at their bar or with the bouncer. Anywhere he knows won’t turn up their nose at a rudimentary flyer boasting discounted dildos. He makes a mental note to insist that Hopper and Joyce leave some on the bar at Benny’s even though he knows at least Hopper will bitch about it nonstop. He knows Joyce’ll look at him like a doting mama before scowling at her counterpart and telling the boy Whatever you need, honey.

He doesn’t see you until you’re right on top of him, and to be fair, you didn’t see him either. So when your chests connect in a thump and everything the both of you are carrying falls to the gritty sidewalk, both of your first instincts are to bitch about it. “What the fuck is your problem man, y’wanna watch where you’re going next time?” you scowl.

Before he could even get the snarky words out of his mouth, he says your name and you snapped out of it in an instant. “Oh God, Steve. It’s you! Sorry, I…I’m just in a fuckin’ mood today. I’m knee deep in midterms and I really just don’t want to read another essay about family dynamics and how my dads expectations really fucked me up - y’know?”

“Yeah, oh I know. I mean, not about the grading essays thing, but…about the dads expectations fucking you up. That part I can relate to. Not the smartie pants stuff.”

“Ok, well…” Your eyes roam up and down his face, seeing how scatterbrained he looks, now crumpled wads of paper crushed up against his chest. “We’ll unpack that little tidbit another time, then. Haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Maybe some coffee again? That shop by your place was nice last time we met up. Good music spinning, so - y’know they got me hooked.”

Steve nods in agreement. After that night in the cab, you’ve seen eachother a few times. Nothing crazy, but intentionally. First you met up at the record store so you could show him some other albums he might like. The next time, you went back to the ice cream place from that ill-fated date night because for some reason, ever since then, you’ve been jonesing for a scoop of that peanut butter swirl ice cream and ended up sitting for two hours just talking.

The last time, he invited you to their favorite coffee shop, sat at a table just adjacent to where Robin and Alex sat, scooping the foam off of one anothers cappuccinos and lattes with their fingers, ankles tangled together under the table, clearly whispering and staring at the pair of them and doing an awful job of keeping their voices low as they spend the whole time making conjecture about what exactly is going on here with the two of them.

Robin was nice, she seemed quirky and fun and Alex seemed like some of the angsty, take-on-too-much-responsibility type girls trying to stand out in the crowd at the University you’re teaching at - which basically means you know exactly how to socialize with her if need be. But since then, you’ve been so wrapped up in the start of your semester, taking on a bigger courseload than normal and getting wrapped right up in the happenings of the fall semester to keep up with anything but teaching and grading.

Steve finally talks after a few seconds “Yeah, it’s really…been awhile. Thought you forgot about me.”

“No. No! Well…you haven’t forgotten about me huh?” Your eyes flick down to his shirt, the typography finally catches your eye, and you point to it with a smirk.

“What do you have here, anyway?” You snatch one of the fliers off the ground as the autumn breeze starts to swirl it around at your feet.

“It’s nothing! No…well. Our boss got a huge shipment in - like, HUGE and we have to make room…..on the floor. So….I’m running a sale.”

“Oh hoh hoh, this is great. Is Robin working? I kinda need a break. Show me this shop of yours? Please? I gotta see the merchandise.”

He is absolutely dreading this. He knows he can’t say no to you. He’s been doing great those few times you hung out together, but he can’t deny that just thinking about you makes him sweat, and he has continued to - over and over and over again - indulge himself to thoughts of your voice, your face, your body as he loses himself in the tense grip of his fist. So you have no idea how much of a hold you have on the guy. Blissfully ignorant of the fact that you have him wrapped around your little finger. And he’s utterly embarrassed, because he knows it. Stupid Steve getting obsessed with another girl again. Convincing himself he’s in love. Yeah…

The pair of you walk through the door of the shop not long after that. The sounds of voices from the back room ring out, cackling laughter that is irrefutably Robin echoing through the store. Steve leads you back behind the curtain to see Alex sitting, entirely amused watching Robin lose her cool at every dildo she pulls from the box. Robin is there, sitting cross-legged, holding up a gigantic transparent pink dildo, wobbling in the air, her cheeks almost the same color as the jiggling member. “People fit THIS up there? Who LIKES that? I’ll…Look at this thing!”

You immediately burst out in laughter and Robin looks up, beaming when she sees you. Eyes darting back and forth between you and Steve. “It’s not as bad as you think, Robin.” you say. Entirely too seriously, and Steve almost gives himself whiplash looking at you as you shrug it off and move closer to inspect the wares. “Ran into Steve on the street, saw you guys were having a sale and I HAD to see all the fuss.”

“Steve…lotsa stuffin’ the muffin gonna be going on after we sell those bad boys.”

A litany of curses rolls off of Steve's tongue in response as he yells something about setting up a sale display in the front.

They all follow Steve out to the floor as he works up the display space. Robin slides over next to him and starts to help, setting a box filled to the brim, bulbous heads sticking out over the edge. She leans over into his shoulder so she can whisper “Stevie…your face is way too serious right now. The girl you like is here while you’re tossing around fake dicks. You gotta smile about it or…lighten up or something. She’s not gonna like your sourpuss face. I think I’m the only one that puts up with that”

“Rob…she's not.. I don’t - '' but he’s cut off by the whirr and buzz of a pile of vibrating dildos Robin has accidentally activated. Moving and bouncing while making an incredible racket against the glass top of the case, the dildos start toppling over the ones Steve has meticulously stacked already and buzzing right off the side of the case and onto the floor. The vibrating dildos are chaotically bouncing and toppling everywhere. “Shut up, you two!” Robin yells back at you and Alex sitting curled up in the seating area, faces red with laughter.

Just then, a group of the shop's regular customers start trickling in flyers in hand, intrigued by the commotion. Robin, overwhelmed with the chaotic situation she herself unfurled, immediately goes to assist the customers, leaving Steve behind to deal with the cacophony of mechanical penises. To distract from the mess, Robin begins a rambling speech about the history and uses of various dildos, sharing more information than anyone asked for and with surprising accuracy and detail. The three of you all look on in amazement and curiosity as Robin suddenly transforms from a bumbling, blushing sexual idiot to this dildo encyclopedia in no time.

“Hey! Ladies…watch this!” Steve picks up a few of the dildos and starts juggling them in the middle of the store with particular ease. In a rare moment where Steve shakes off the uptight strings that tie him up and hold him down, his effort to make things a bit more lighthearted, pay off.

Everyone’s hollering and smiling and laughing, however, his juggling skills are far from perfect. After a good run, he misses one - a big sparkly silicone thing that starts bouncing wildly across the counter and lands with a smack and a slap in front of the customer at the register. Robin and the customer look down at it, mouths open in disbelief.

Steve’s bracing himself to get yelled at by one or both of them, but instead both blow out a laugh they were holding back before the whole store erupts into amused giggling and full on laughing fits.

After the shop closes that afternoon, the four of you find yourself walking down the sidewalks, sky overcast with the October chill that creeps in at sunset to steal away the warmth and glow of the day. Standing in front of a bowling alley tucked away on a side street, Alex cocks her eyebrows at the others and says “How about we have some more fun?”

Knees knocking together as you and Steve sit shoulder to shoulder tying your ratty, overworn bowling shoes onto your feet, Robin and Alex return with drinks from the bar and plop down next to you. “Drinks on me tonight, assholes.” Robin proclaims happily - that is until Steve quips back “Good, you owed me for your stupid dead keychain pet again anyway.”

Narrowing her eyes at Steve’s, she ignores his commentary and quickly moves on. “Alright, two on two. Let’s see how bad this is gonna go!” She claps her hands and rubs them together in preparation.

“Guess it’s you and me, huh?” You bump shoulders with Steve, “I promise, I’m not that bad, so maybe we have a shot.”

Over the next hour the group is rolling with fits of giggles and laughter after dropped bowling balls and rolls down the gutter and baskets full of bar popcorn, kernels falling at their feet as they talk.

On one side, Robin’s begging for bumpers after four in a row has Alex taunting her to no end. Beers are refilled while Alex tugs on Robin’s belt loops to maneuver around her, palm running over the sliver of exposed skin on her back as she leans down to grab her ball. Cheers are shouted while Robin celebrates a Spare with a chaste kiss to the apple of Alex’s cheek. Comfortable silences are filled with her nervously picking at the strings jutting out on the frayed knee of Alex’s pants and filling the void by picking at the cuticles of her nails instead when Alex gets up to take her turn.

On the other side, Steve has bumped into you twice. Once causing your ball to fall out of your hands and barely missing your feet. He’s gotten his arm tangled in his open flannel shirt as he tosses the ball, so he takes it off and hangs it over the back of the chair where you’re sitting, the sides of his fingers brushing against your shoulder as he moves away and eyes darting nervously when he hears a tiny scoff coming from Alex, whose eyes are fixated on him with amusement. You and Steve are faring well and scoring better than your counterparts, but every time you go to celebrate, the interaction falls flat - one going in for a hug while the other sticks two hands up for a high five, the next time going to the high five while the other jabs their fist in the air awkwardly.

Alex slinks over towards Robin and whispers, “This…is fuckin painful.”

Over the crack of falling pins and music on the jukebox, Alex shouts over to you, “So how exactly do you know Steve?”

“Oh, yeah…honestly, we just ran into each other a few times. All very random really. Saw him first at the record store when he was getting his first vinyls. I was there picking up my new copy of the Pearl Jam one…I guess I kind of made the suggestion he try it out himself.”

Robin flits her eyes from Steve to you, now wholly making the connection on why Steve’s probably constantly playing "Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town" late at night. Steve sees her gears turning and he tries to signal for her to drop it, but in true Robin fashion….she won't.

“So wait, that’s how you met her?” she jabs her thumb in your direction while shouting at Steve.

“W-well, yeah I guess technically. I didn’t really even know your name until the cab thing like…a month later.” he says casually, directed at you even though it was Robin who asked the question.

Looking at Robin’s blank stare, you fill in the blanks for her when Steve doesn’t continue. “Yeah. Well…Steve kind of knight-in-shining-armored me from a bad date one night. I recognized him from our run ins, but we still didn’t actually know each other at all, but he caught me at the tail end of probably the absolute worst date of the year. Dude made me pay for everything and left me to find a cab myself and I was just a fuckin mess standing there on the sidewalk trying to count my change after paying for dinner.”

“Oh, yes…Stevie loves to be the hero. Dontcha?” Robin pokes at his shoulder.

“Well yeah, he really was. I definitely didn’t have enough cash for the cab so we shared one and had our first proper conversation, bitched about how awful first dates are - or dating in general, right? God it’s been the worst.” your words trail off as your brain is clearly rolodexing through all of the failures and wasted nights you’ve collected.

Smiling at Steve as you say it, “We just kinda keep running into one another, so we’re just embracing it!” Steve nods in agreement, tight lipped smile pulling up on the left side, oddly quiet as he listens to you recount how you’ve found yourself here in his circle.

“Hmm…cute.” Robin says, a little over exaggerated, as she unties the frayed shoelaces of her bowling shoes and walks up to the counter to return them.

At the counter, Robin stands leaned over while Alex slips her hand in the back pocket of her wide leg denim. You and your teammate for the evening fall in line next to one another behind them, shoulder to shoulder again, looking over at one another, waiting to see who will talk first.

“We really whooped their ass, didn’t we?”

“Thanks for having me around today.”

You both spill out at the same time. Both agreeing with a nod and a smile, eyes locked together just as Alex and Robin turn around to face you and move out of your way. “You’re up, Romeo.” She winks as she reaches out to grab Alex’s outstretched hand and head towards the door. Steve watches as they tumble out of the entrance and the door closes behind them, the pair illuminated through the glass by the lights on the city street as his friend leans in to kiss her girlfriend, like some perfectly lit scene out of a movie.

This all started because Steve tied the stem of the cherry from his Old Fashioned and set it casually next to his coaster in the bar. Gasps of "How didn't I know you could do that?" from Robin.

“Wow. Wow. Honestly. Who knew Steve was such a Cunnilinguist over here? Fluent in Mumbling in the Moss.” Robin’s teasing, but her jaw is just about on the bar and she’s fighting back the impressed look she has on her face. “Let me get my notebook out. I gotta take notes…please, please don’t stop on account of me. Continue….” Robin gestures at Steve in a bow like he’s a fuckin member of the Royal Court of Pussyeaters, taunting him with wide sarcastic eyes and a glint of actual curiosity he can clock from a mile away.

“Robin, YOU have even said it yourself.”

“Oh yes, how could I ever forget the sounds Melissa from upstairs made on our first weekend here? Right. Sorry. Blocked that out of my memory bank shortly after it happened.”

The thing about Robin is, this city has made her feral for new things and new information. Probably something to do with the fact that she can actually live like she wants to more openly, that there’s less judgment or even a community. Maybe it's a lot to do with the fact that the girl who used to cringe at the word boobies is hawking condoms, crotchless panties and sex toys for a living and learning about her sexuality in real-time, but Robin has turned into a sexual sponge. She’s shy about something until she’s not. Zero to sixty in ten seconds flat. She sees it once, asks a few curious and direct questions and suddenly she’s ready to rock and roll.

Over the past few months, Steve has watched her boundaries literally crumble at her feet. The first time it happened, early in the summer when they first got the job, he found himself sweeping the same spot in the front of the store for twenty minutes straight. He was completely distracted when Robin went on and on extremely enthusiastically about Ben Wa balls to a customer.

At first he was lingering because the girl was pretty - shiny hair grazing the tops of her shoulders, sunkissed and peeking out of her tank top, glittering gems dangling from her ears. He was admiring the girl, until he heard Robin talking about those balls like she knew what she was doing. He hadn’t thought about those since he had that stupid sandwich shop slip up, but apparently since then, Robin has become a goddamn connoisseur. He almost dropped the broom when she gave the girl some of her favorite personal tips to enjoy them as she checked her out.

Since then, Steve can’t even count on one hand how many times he’s had to hear Robin talking people’s ears off about fuckin Ben Wa balls. She’s like a Ben Wa sales person every night at the bar, yapping anyone’s ear off about them, talking about no less casually than like it’s talking about how you take your coffee. Just rambling on about how if you slip them in before your date, it pays off at the end of the night, or how if you add a little vibration they go wild. If she didn’t already work at a Sex Shop, he’d tell her to get a job at one with how she’s acting. Steve’s no prude, God no… but he doesn’t think he’s ever going to get used to his Robin talking about what she sticks up her vagina like that.

So now, here they all sit, at the corner of the bar at Benny’s, and she’s trying so hard not to look like she’s desperate for a lesson, but Steve knows. He knows she’s trying so hard to get information. So she can deliver. She won't ever do something unless she's sure she'll be good at it. She won’t say it out loud, but she wants to return the favor and she’s terrified she’s gonna do it wrong or be awful at it. He knows all of this just by looking at her body language and the look in her eyes. And shit, it makes him cringe thinking about it, but when Hopper leans over the bar and says “I don’t think he’s really that good if he’s not gonna spill the beans? Pretty face like that has probably never been sat on in his life.” he’s all in. He’s not one to back down from a challenge. Stubborn as ever.

“Well…You’re not exactly wrong about that. Not for nothing, though…I tried. I swear. Hawkins, Indiana is not filled with adventurous girls that are willing to do that.”

“Wait…who did you ask to sit on your face, Harrington? Do I even wanna know?”

“Don’t worry about it Robbie.” He waves her off. “It doesn’t matter anyway. No one took the bait so I stopped asking. Plus, most of those girls didn’t even want me to do any of it in the first place - I mean, after some convincing a few of them changed their opinion afterwards but still...”

“So…wait. You didn’t spend all your years as King Steve feasting on clams? That makes no sense? How can you even self-proclaim you’re soooo great at it if you don’t have that much practice?”

“First of all, I did just fine thanks, and secondly it’s not about practice, Rob. I’m a fuckin natural” Steve grins wide like a cheshire cat around the rim of his glass as he throws back a sip, knowing his comment will send her into a tizzy.

“Oh you’re just disgusting Steve Harrington. So fucking smug about everything.” As she rambles on, Steve lets her go, barely noticing that he’s not paying any mind to her, and he asks Joyce if he can have the jar of cherries behind the bar. Joyce smiles at him and winks, before sliding the glass container down the bar to him, catching it in his hand and wiggling it in Robin’s face.

“You wanna learn from the best, Buckley?”

He hands his friend a cherry and asks her to tie the stem and the first one took her 18 minutes. She’s awful at multitasking, so while he’s trying to fill the time with tips - about how she shouldn’t dive right in. “You gotta play around a little. Show the girls some attention, work your way up her thighs… don’t just stick your face in it. Got it?” She doesn’t. She’s got her brows furrowed and one eye squinted shut as she’s exaggeratedly moving the cherry stem around her mouth by jabbing her tongue every which way.

He rolls his eyes and holds his hand out in front of her mouth and tells her to spit it out, like a small child who got in the candy bowl and has to give up her treat after being scolded. The next hour goes by with Steve trying so hard to be a patient teacher.

He starts from the beginning, making sure she doesn’t skip over his first lesson: Approach but do not enter. He tells her about how no matter how bad she wants to, she can not under any circumstances make full and direct contact. "If you use your tongue like you just did with that fuckin cherry stem you're gonna scare her, okay Jabby"

In an almost reverent and detailed narrative he continues on telling tales of kisses up ankles and legs and warm breaths against their entrance. Teasing and touching and tounging through wet panties. Featherlight touches and sucking purple marks along the juncture of thighs. At this point, Hopper is leaned over his bar looking on like a little kid hearing about knights and dragons in a bedtime story. He needs a napkin to wipe up his drool after listening to the pussy poetry coming off of Steve Harrington’s lips.

Steve dangles out Cherry #2 for Robin to snag with her lips before moving on to his second lesson: Start slow. Robin has her mouth open catching flies, cherry stem just resting between her teeth as Steve goes on to explain how she should kitten lick just around everything she has to offer, then in. Gentle strokes exploring what’s there, tongue flat, loose, gentle. Circling the clit, running it along all of the places in between. “Opening up the flower,” he says. Bonus points if you make noise while you do it, tell her she looks pretty he says and Robin nods in understanding.

Palm extended again, Steve nods as the stem falls into it, telling Robin “Nice. You’re getting there. This’ll be important soon.”

Cherry #3. Take a break. He looks her dead in the eyes when he says “You gotta take a break here, Robbie. Don’t do that thing you do about every other thing in the world. Where you’re all in and super focused and too excited and you forget the steps. BACK OFF. Do the thigh thing again, just less is more for a minute here….You hear me? Now gimme that stem.”

Robin pulls the stem out of her mouth, holding it up to her eyeline and sees her knot is tighter this time and she's done it quicker. Much quicker than before. She grins “Got it! Got it! Am I doing good?”

Steve smiles at her, and pops a cherry into his mouth, handing one off to his friend and grinning like a devil as he hands one to Hopper, too. Both take the offering, despite Hopper acting way too cool about it, he plays along. Cherry #4. Dive in. Swirl, slide and suck. Alternate until you figure out what works for her. Listen for the sounds, the breaths. Pick up speed. "Lay that tongue flat again and lick her up from back to front, because she's gonna taste like heaven." Robin nods as he tells her to add a finger or two if she wants it but keep playing with that clit, rolling and rubbing and maybe even some flicking just like that cherry stem.

All three of them pull their stems out, candied cherries already warm in Robin and Hoppers bellies so they could focus on the stem. Steve, however, pulls out his stem to show off the tight knot and sticks out his tongue with the cherry still there, untouched and carefully maneuvered out of the way of the action the whole time. He makes a show of swirling around the cherry, undulating his tongue with a smirk turned up on the corner of his lips before popping the red orb between his teeth and crushing it with a grin.

“Okay, fine. You sound like you know what you’re doing Harrington…that…yeah…thanks for that.” Hopper says as he walks away, turning his stem between his fingers, a little too deep in thought and mulling over Steve’s words as he serves up the other patrons of the bar.

Stirring the ice of her now empty glass, she eyes her friend. Still processing that he gave her such a detailed lesson so she can effectively eat out her girlfriend for the first time, not to mention the fact that listening to Steve Harrington talk about worshiping a woman like that kinda turned her on, it takes her a minute to finally break her silence.

She looks away from Steve before starting in on one of her tried and true rambles. “I gotta repay you for that weirdly effective tutorial. Just maybe one nugget of information. I mean, I may have never been the giver, but consider me a receiver? A tight end? I dunno I was trying to give you a sports analogy because you’re a jock. Were a jock…or whatever. Anyway. Girls…they don’t agree to sit on your face, man, and it's not because they don’t want it. They want it. It’s just, like, REALLY embarrassing.”

Steve looks at her confused. “What do you mean embarrassing?”

“Like, 100% of us think we’re too big or not good enough. And being like that is a little intimidating. Even my skinny ass thinks I’ll crush a girl if I do it. “

“Too big? - oh.” It takes some time for Steve to understand, never having to deal with any type of insecurity like that ever before it never even crossed his mind that it has anything to do with themselves or their bodies. He always thought they just thought he was a weirdo for asking and making things complicated. He assumed they didn’t have time for any theatrics and just wanted to come and maybe sign up for a second date.

Robin sees the wheels turning and the gears grinding in his head, and she knows this means he understands but is too engrossed in his analysis of the actual injustice of it all to speak words. “So, maybe approach it differently? Or find a chick who is just so fuckin confident she doesn’t give a fuck. But let me tell you one thing…it pains me to say this. Truly it does, but your nose…is MADE for it.”

“My nose?” his face contorts in a confused glare she knows all too well.

“Oh baby, yeah…that nose is made for pushing a clit around.”

“ROBIN!” Steve pushes his chair back, feet squeaking along the roughed up floor of the bar, as he walks over to the jukebox and leans over it, grumbling yet again about how she always takes it one step too far.

“You’ll thank me one day, handsome! You’re not the only one that has information to share, you know?”

Steve has never seen Robin like this before. He’s not sure what to do with the information his eyes are transmitting to his brain in this moment, so he just stands there unmoving. “Uh hello? Dingus? What’s the deal?”

Robin has exited her room in those stupid fucking red boots that she now is insisting are comfortable and fully broken in, but the fishnet stockings that follow her skin up her legs are not the first thing that make Steve do a double take. A white baby t-shirt sits under the spaghetti straps of a lacey, silky black slip dress, a cut up to the thigh that she may have put there herself. A chunky, more masculine belt looped around her waist - wait…is that from his closet, he thinks to himself.

“Please stop looking at me like I’m an idiot. I look dumb, don’t I? Of course I do. I gotta change.”

The only other time Robin has found herself in anything other than pants was that one goddamn time Nancy Wheeler dressed her up like a China Doll to trick that fancy psychiatrist guy, and that’s a memory she’s tried hard to suppress.But there are no frilly socks and poofy white collars on this dress. No stuffy cardigan. And even though she never thought of herself as particularly feminine, today for the first time in her life she feels it.

“No! No Robbie, you look … great. I - I’ve just never seen you in like…anything like that. It’s…super fuckin’ cool okay? Like magazine cool. Like not friends with Steve Harrington cool.” he shakes his head as he throws some popcorn into his mouth. “Alex is gonna fuckin’ lose it. You gonna remember what I taught you at Benny’s? Tonight is your night, my friend, because she will not say no to you in that. For sure.”

“You think I’m gonna dine on the Adult Happy Meal tonight?” She says in a sly, teasing tone, knowing just her sexual euphemism will get Steve rolling his eyes and irritated with her in no time.

“Y’know what, I was trying to pump you up. Tell you you did good…but fine. Be that way.”

And she hated, just hated to admit it, but Steve was right. Alex loved it. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Robin’s thighs all night. Her fingers lingered at Robin’s waist and along that belt anytime she was within reach and Robin’s skin tingled with anticipation. She felt possessed by Alex. On a short leash. And as the music thumped in her chest, she felt the dull aching throb building between her thighs at the same time.

So it was no surprise when the two of them pummeled through Alex’s studio apartment door backwards, not taking their lips of one another with enough time to pay any attention to where they were going or what they were running into. Robin’s were slick with spit, cherry gloss and the smudges of the deep plum lipstick rubbed right off of Alex’s own plump lips.

“This..” Alex picks at the straps of Robin’s slip dress. “This is nice.” She almost growls out, finger hooked under the thin piece of fabric, tugging Robin with her until they hit the edge of the bed.

“I don’t think I told you how hot you looked tonight. It’s fuckin bananas.” Alex’s lips pepper kisses up the column of Robin’s neck leaving streaks of whatever pigment remained on her lips rubbed off like a trail of smoke, fanning the fire deep within both of them.

Alex’s nose is pressed up and into Robin’s temple, lips parted and breathy and tickling her ear. Tits smushed and pressed together the closest they could possibly be and Alex’s hand wastes no time slithering right into that opening left there by the makeshift slit cut into the side of the satin, up along her pelvis tugging the pesky fishnets out of the way and diving right back down into the hot wetness pooling in Robins’ underwear.

“Oh, honey. Robin…so wet already?” Her fingers smooth back and front again, swirling around Robin’s clit and sliding right inside on the backswing. Robin chokes out a breathy moan, pouty lips gaping open, eyes rolling back and long eyelashes fluttering in the air like the wings of a butterfly. Alex slides those fingers back and forth, back and forth until Robin looks back at her, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her away just enough to look into her eyes. Alex doesn’t let up her motions, two fingers loudly moving through everything Robin is giving her.

Robin reaches down towards the bed and takes Alex by surprise when she picks up one of her fluffy white pillows and pummels it at Alex’s head. “Ow, what the fuck!” Alex shouts. She looks at Robin, corners of her lips turning up into a mischievous smile, fingers curling up into the sky as she shrugs her shoulders teasingly. Alex’s face melts quickly into one of laughter - but only temporarily before she reaches for her own pillow and wails on Robin, smacking her right in the shoulder.

Pillows are flying, both girls are laughing so much their tummies are starting to hurt. Fluff and feathers from the pillows are starting to puff out and flutter through the air. Robin lands a particularly good blow on Alex’s upper body that has her falling backwards into the bed laughing, and it’s in this moment Robin finds herself giggling, perched right on top of her girlfriend’s body.

She wanted this to happen. Really she did. That was the point. She’s come a long way but Robin is still too chickenshit to ask for what she wants in bed. She’s definitely too chickenshit to take charge. So as she lays here, leaning over Alex, pillows around them, blankets and comforters scrunched up along their sides in a sea of white linen, Robin leans down and connects her lips to Alex’s in the most possessive kiss she knows how to muster up. She spent all night feeling like she was on Alex’s leash, but for fucks sake, she wants to take a little too.

She’s always a little frantic, but this? She’s tugging Alex’s shirt out from where it’s tucked into the pleated trousers hanging low on her hips tonight faster than she can blink. Her bumbling fingers are trying to find the confidence to be smooth about pushing her shirt up and up and up, but instead it’s just hurriedly shoved up far enough for Robin to get a little bit of access to her breasts. She slows down a bit just enough to savor how her fingers slide under the band of Alex’s bralette and brush over both of her nipples at the same time.

God, Robin is losing her mind and she’s quickly going to get in her head if she doesn’t follow through. She knows that the second she lets her intrusive thoughts spiral, she’s going to be too worried about doing it wrong, or not being good enough that she’ll just run back home to Steve like a kicked puppy. So she takes a big breath - one that could be confused with someone diving down to the bottom of a summer swimming pool. Alex’s head pops up off the bed and is momentarily confused, but she falls right back into the mountain of pillows as she feels Robin’s hands extend, pressing her tits up and back into the mattress just as Robin’s nose starts to trail down, down towards her belly button.

Kissing the softness of her girl's tummy, Robin tries hard to remember that this is not a test, before she keeps mouthing at the dough of her hips, dragging the waistband of her pants further and further down. Alex’s hipbone, popping out just for a peek, gets a small kiss from Robin before she swoops her finger down and into her trousers following the seam of her thighs.

“Rob…Robin…what are you - oh fuck!” She cries out as she feels Robin’s blunt fingernails run up through her slit and back up, starting to fumble with the button. “Robin, what are you doing?”

Alex has felt great during this relationship, yeah she’s more of the giver, but there’s been plenty of grinding and sucking on nipples and self pleasure that have brought her to climax while the two of them have fooled around on couches and over the paper thin walls in their apartment as Steve sleeps next door. She’s been patient and attentive to Robin, knowing she’s still learning and exploring and not expecting her to do more than she’s comfortable with. But tonight she’s getting the distinct idea that Robin wants something a little different.

“Rob, you don’t have to …just…lemme take care of it”

“NO. Alex. Stop it. I…I wanna try something. Okay? Please?”

“Oh-okay, sure. But just stop if it’s too much for you. I promise, I don’t need you to fingerfuck me tonight if you don’t really wanna go there yet.” Alex is talking while Robin ignores her, working the pants loose and starting to wiggle them down and over her wide and pretty hips.

“Alex. Please. Shut up. I’m usually the one talking too much, but this time it’s you.” She connects her lips to whatever places she can reach on her stomach before looking back up at Alex, eyes wide and big and doe-like “And …I don’t want ot finger fuck you.”

With absolutely no notice after that, Robin’s head ducks down and quickly finds itself between Alex’s thighs, shoving the pants legs down as far as she can go while she runs her nose up along the edge of Alex’s deep purple panties. She hums loud enough for Alex to hear her and that alone has Alex’s eyes fluttering shut in anticipation.

Robin starts with small nips and licks along the inside of Alex’s thighs and remembers specifically that a few good, deep licks over the panties might be a nice place to go next. It’s safe for her underneath a layer of protection - mostly for her ego. It’s like the mental boundary she has still standing before she takes her first real lick. But with a deep breath and a smile she quite literally can’t hold back, Robin flattens her tongue and runs it right up the center of Alex’s panties, flicking her tongue when she gets right where she knows her clit is hiding under that cotton.

Alex’s hands jolt towards the bedsheets at the unexpected fervor on Robin’s tongue and the girl keeps exploring all around the exposed skin before taking the front of her underwear on her tongue, wrapping her lips around it and sucking, lapping, drooling right where she knows that clit is hiding from her. Alex is moaning and groaning under Robin and the sound is music to her ears - a symphony of praises like Robin has never quite heard before. She wants more. Needs more.

Tugging down the sides of Alex’s underwear she rips them off and throws them on the floor behind her and stares down at what lays before her. Alex, bared to her, legs splayed out to each side. She can’t help but admire the pink shades of her lips and the perfect curls of the hair adorned there. She runs her fingers along the sides of her pelvis, tickling the pads of her fingers with the roughness of where her trimmed bush is growing in just a bit. Robin is pretty sure this is how a dog with a bone behaves, but she couldn’t care less.

Next, she does something that even surprises herself. Rolling her tongue through her mouth, she gathers a glob of spit and lets it fall right on top of Alex’s clit, holding the hood back as the coolness hits her bundle of nerves. Robin blows gently on the wet skin, a small thread of saliva still clinging to her cupid's bow and Alex can not tear her eyes away from what is happening between her legs.

Robin dips her head down and rolls her tongue, front to back, side to side before letting her lips wrap around her clit and suck. As she continues, flicking and flitting and moaning into Alex’s cunt, she lets her fingers wander up until she can feel the heat of her girlfriends arousal on her fingertips. She looks up at her and asks “Can I…can I put these in, too? Do you want more?”

“Jesus Christ, Robin�� she gasps, “You’re trying to kill me right? Holy shit. Yes. I need more.”

Sliding her middle finger into her first, then second knuckle, just to test the waters, she’s quickly overcome with how soft and warm she feels in her hands. “Oh Alex, you feel so fuckin good.” She works that finger in further before sliding it out and adding in her ring finger, too. No resistance, only the slick sounds of Alex’s arousal and Robin's fingers working her up better than she knew was possible.

Thanking god she knows how to play a brass instrument, knowing damn well her fingers and her mouth know how to multitask and move in tandem, she starts thinking about this orchestra between her girlfriends legs. Moving those fingers, not letting up with the beat and tempo she set for herself, she bends down to connect her soft lips back on Alex’s, lapping around the place she feels her fingers slipping in and out, licking along the edge of where her lips end and Robin’s fingers begin. Feeling the plunging and sucking around them as her pussy clenches around Robin’s fingers.

“Ohhh fuck. Robin, goo-good girl, Rob. Feels so good.”

Robin feels her own pussy clench around absolutely nothing at Alex’s raise. Pulling out her fingers, Alex cries at the loss, but she quickly moans louder than Robin’s ever heard before as she replaces that emptiness with her tongue. Shoving it inside, curing upwards and soothing that ache with the warmth of her tongue. She remembers how she rolled and sucked on that cherry, and repeats those movements until she feels a wetness, a creaminess that makes her moan out loudly herself. The vibrations from Robin’s moaning are doubling down on the orgasm crashing through Alex’s body and with a yelp and a groan and a giggle, Robin has her head laying across Alex’s sweat slicked chest, staring up at her waiting. For approval? For literally anything.

“Jesus, Robin that was….that was some top shelf shit. Wh-what…how? I mean, I’m not complaining but I was not expecting that.”

“It was fuckin’ hot wasn’t it?” she muses with a laugh.

“Lord help me, I…think you owe some thanks to Steve for all that, actually” she says painfully through her teeth.

“No fuckin’ shit! My man!”

A scoff comes right out of Robin’s mouth, unable to hold it back.

“Maybe if he uses some of that magic pussy eating technique on whats-her-name she’ll be just as obsessed with him as he is with her.”

“RIGHT?”

The windows of the house are actually rattling, filled to the brim with young bodies living in downtown Chicago neighborhoods - friends and strangers alike. Robin and Steve stand outside waiting to enter, looking at Alex for the go-ahead. “I don’t really actually know the guys, it’s just….I mean it doesn’t fuckin matter. Look at this party.” she gestures up to the house, lights flashing from behind the curtains in the windows. “We just gotta wait another minute or two. I’m meeting someone else…”

“Someone else? Who else is coming?” Robin’s volume starts off loud and starts to fade into a smirk as she catches a glimpse of you approaching the group on the sidewalk.

“Hey guys! Thanks Alex, I’m so glad I ran into you earlier!”

You clock the look Robin flashes at Steve and you almost feel slightly unwelcome if it weren’t for Alex, grabbing you by the crook of your elbow and pulling you forward into the house party, the duo still trailing behind trying to process what exactly is going on and why.

Robin jogs up to Alex’s side as they take the steps of the house two by two as they approach the door and leans in “What are you doing? When did this happen?”

Once through the threshold of the house, the loud music and shouting voices muffled their conversation with ease. “Oh whatever… listen, I ran into her at the coffee shop. Said after she went there with Steve that one time, she liked their Cappuccino so she’s been going back ever since. It was my chance to invite her out…maybe give them a nudge. I swear, I owe the guy after all that lip service last night.”

“You’re trouble, you know that? He thinks I’m trouble…but…”

“Maybe we're trouble together. Let’s go.”

Alex grabs Robin’s hand and trots off to the back of the house in search of a few drinks, trying desperately to lose both of you behind them and force you into close proximity.

As planned, Steve can��t find the pair anywhere in a matter of seconds, searching over the heads and raised drinks of strangers on the living room, repurposed as a dance floor, it quickly becomes futile. In the loud atmosphere, The Rolling Stones Start Me Up blaring from the speakers, he turns to you, unable to get a word in and get you to move forward with him in search of a drink, he tugs at the collar of your blush pink jacket - one that makes him smirk because he recognizes the ribbed collar and button clasp of the zipper jacket. Looking just like his own matching gray one, shoved in the back of his dresser lately in an effort to try and hide it better from Robin.

An hour or so passes and Steve still hasn’t found Robin, not without trying because his eyes are constantly scanning the crowd, like a lifeguard scanning the water keeping children safe. She’s fine. It’s not my problem to babysit her, he thinks. She’s got Alex.

He’s still with you, leaning against the wall and watching as you dance along to every song that plays for the crowd. Right now, he’s got his eyes glued to your hips as you move along to Owner of a Lonely Heart and sip your lukewarm beer.

You occasionally speak to him, but fuck if he actually has heard a thing you said. You haven’t stopped moving along to the music. It’s warm inside, so he’s holding your jacket now, while he sees the sweat dripping down the nape of your neck. Following it as it drips down and around the column of your throat.

He clears his before he lets himself watch it go any lower, over your clavicle and jerks his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Refill?” he asks, and you nod as the crowd chants out CAN'T TOUCH THIS, jumping in unison and making the floor shake.

Armed with your fresh drink, you find yourself following Steve down the steps of the basement, concrete walls and dusty corners, a basement not meant to be inhabited but perfect for a late night party full of friends and strangers for whoever actually lives here. The pair of you plop down on a dingy sofa, rifling through your purse you pull out a black package and slide a slim black cigarette out if it’s case. He looks at you quizzically as you light it up, the warm and spicy smell of your Djarum Blacks filling the air around you.

“A clove.” you exhale. “A clove cigarette? You want?” you pull one more drag off the cigarette and pass it off to Steve, who studies it before placing the filter to his lips. Pulling a drag, feeling something like cinnamon crackle through his lungs, his brain is fixated on how your lips were just right here where his are now.

“Whoa, that's…different.” He coughs out. “I like it, though. It feels…like…cozy? Does that make sense?”

Taking another drag and blowing out his smoke in one smooth motion this time, he hands it back over to you. Nodding and looking one another over as you pass the clove back and forth for a few minutes in comfortable silence, you’re broken out of your little bubble by the sound of cheating and squealing from the other side of the basement. A squeal that is unmistakably Robin.

The thump of the base echos against the damp and dirty cinder block walls and you and Steve turn the corner to see Robin, perched on top of an old wooden table, swaying and dancing, tank top straps falling off her shoulder as she sways to the beat

Rhythm is a dancer. It's a soul's companion. You can feel it everywhere.

Robin is clearly shitfaced, as she falls to her knees and gyrates on top of the table, you hear Steve groan and he runs his hands through his hair before he goes to step forward. Putting your hand on his shoulder to stop him, he looks back at you confused. “She’s got it.” you gesture to Alex, who's standing there looking mildly concerned, while also letting her pretty girl have some fun.

His protective nature is more evident than ever right now, and it warms you to see it. You’ve only ever really witnessed the snarky jabs and biting remarks that seem to be what their friendship is built on. The concern and softness on his face here is different. Maybe it’s not so much that he wants to be the hero - you remember Robin’s remark the other day at the bowling alley. Maybe he just…cares.

The crowd around the table is cheering and egging Robin on the entire time, only shouting louder as EMF’s Unbelievable switches on, causing Robin to lose her footing. Shaken up, she reaches for Alex, a dazed look in her eye, while her girlfriend throws her arm over her shoulder and they head towards the stairs. “I’m taking her home. She’s a damn mess. A cute one, but a mess.” Alex says to Steve as she passes him on her way up the stairs.

You and Steve trail behind, Robin’s lolling head looking like a ragdoll thrown over Alex’s back. “You sure you don’t need my help?” Steve asks.

“I got it pretty boy. Just…do a welfare check on my girl in the morning. I swear if she wakes up in a pile of her own vomit though - that's on her.”

And just like that, you find yourself the recipient of Steve’s care and concern, as he looks at you on the corner of a quiet midnight street. “Gotta get you home safe too. C’mon.” Holding open your jacket for you - the one you almost forgot he’s been holding for you this whole time - you step inside. He wraps it gently around your shoulders, fingers lingering a bit softly just before he notices and gives you an awkward pat on them instead.

“Are we walking, or are you gonna make me get you a cab again?” he teases.

You roll your eyes as you start walking away. “My place isn’t far. Just this way. Y’gonna make sure I get there okay?”

Nursing hangovers and sore bodies the next morning, the pair have their feet sprawled out across their respective couches, curtains drawn tight keeping out the golden October sunlight, hoodies tied up around their heads keeping the noise out and the light dim. Robin gnaws on a bagel, untoasted, uncut just straight from the bag like a heathen while she is mumbling about what she and Alex have been up to lately.

Steve’s head is hurting, but he really is happy to hear how supportive Alex is of Robin and all the cool things they are doing. He wants to hear more about it even though it feels like her voice is driving one hundred screws directly into his brain stem, so he tips back his bottle of water and tries to focus in.

“We went to this sick basement venue the other night - the music scene there was so cool. You might have liked it Steve. I hear that vinyl collection you have spinning. I have to say, I’m impressed with your blossoming musical taste.”

Just then, he’s hit with a chunk of bagel right on his forehead. Begrudgingly he lets the hunger win out, and takes a bite, needing something to sop up the hangover but too lazy to go down to the corner store for a proper greasy breakfast sandwich.

“Might that have anything to do with a pretty lady who teaches at the University? Hmmm?”

He can already tell Robin wants to lecture him. He doesn’t want to hear it. He knows what she's going to say, and maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he knows what she’s going to say because it’s not really that wrong, and he just doesn’t want to admit any of it or unpack any of it. Why do that when it’s going to blow up in his face anyway? What’s the point in getting his hopes up if he can just play it cool and casual and make like he’s not phased by it when it inevitably doesn’t work out.

Steve already had his head running through this himself. The facts are, you are not a stupid girl and you’re not rolling around the city looking to settle down with some schmuck who juggles dildos at his day job. That’s pretty clear. That date that blew up in your face? That was at a nice restaurant. It was a serious date - or at least it should have been. Steve’s a 26 year old boy running around the city like it’s a playground trying to find himself and you’re an almost 30 year old woman with a career and a personality who is just way out of his league.

“Robin, it’s… complicated.”

“No, no. I’m not seeing what exactly is complicated about it. She’s so COOL. Steve - this is exactly what you need. I don’t know why you will constantly throw yourself like a hotdog down a hallway at anything else that looks at you for a second, but these ones that are good for you. …ACTUALLY good for you, you pretend like it’s a pipe dream?”

With that, they are both startled at the bell yelling out from the phone on the wall, neither expecting a phone call this time. They both look at one another before Robin sighs, pushing herself to stand and clicking the buttons of her Tamagotchi on her leisurely walk over to the receiver. Picking up the phone and laying the handpiece on her shoulder, she continues her focus on caring for her beeping blob, dead set on winning this round before Steve watches her face go white as a ghost.

Her eyes are boring into his, he’s mouthing What’s wrong and he gets nothing in response. His anxiety is swirling in his chest. It’s the kids isn’t it? He can’t help but immediately think that they are in imminent danger. He’s up and walking over, mentally ready to pack a bag and start the drive home before Robin silently hands the phone out to him.

“It’s for you.” she says, stone faced and looking at him with pitiful eyes.

Steve answers, a serious and curt hello into the phone when a familiar voice rolls out of the earpiece that makes him freeze.

“Son… Can you please explain to me why someone would be telling me these astronomical stories about you - a Harrington - working at a Pornographic Store?”

Shit.

TAGLIST: @livsters @katie-tibo @johnricharddeacy @angywritesstuff @k-k0129 @tisthedamnseason69 @middle-of-the-earth @thebrazilianatheist @mochminnie @micheledawn1975 @falling-throughthe-hourglass @rafaaoli @ash5monster01 @gabessock @onyxslayss @scoopshxrrington

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lovebaela · 2 years ago

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Ice & Fire ༄ Pt. 3

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Bran Stark x Targaryen oc fanfic

Chapter 3 ⋇ King’s Landing ��

Tsireya’s POV

Where am I? As I’m looking around, I am surrounded by fire! I look up and see…a dragon! Tsireya… it said…you must be a dragon…the dragon opens its mouth, releasing fire at me. I shut my eyes and get a sudden chill. I open them, now I’m caught up in an ice blizzard. I look up again. A humongous ice creature…it looks like an ice dragon! It’s ten times bigger than the dragon I saw earlier!

When I finally opened my eyes, everything was a blur. I hear people around me gasp.

“Oh thank the gods!”

“They’re okay!”

“I thought they were gone!”

I was finally able to focus and my vision cleared. Lord Stark places his hand on my cheek, “It’s okay, little one. You’re okay.” I look over to my left and see Bran also awake as Summer licked his face. He looked like he just woke up as well. Lady Stark began to tear up, “I’m so happy you two are okay!”

“Bran?” I call out to him.

“Tsireya, I’m so glad you’re okay.” He said.

“Bran,” Lord Stark said. “What happened?”

“I…I don’t remember,” he said. “I just remember falling but I don’t know how it happened.”

“Can you move at all?” Maester Luwin asks us.

We both move our arms and legs.

“Yeah, we can move fine.”

“Thank the gods you both aren’t injured.”

I look over at Bran again, “I caught you…I knew I wasn’t strong enough but…I couldn’t risk just watching you fall.”

“Thanks Tsireya.” Bran says grinning weakly.

“Good thing she caught you and broke your fall,” Robb told Bran.

“Yeah, who knows what would have happened,” Arya said. “And don’t get me started on the assassin that tried to kill you two-.”

“ARYA!” Everyone else screamed.

“Alright, these two need rest,” Maester Luwin said. “Let’s clear the room for a bit.”

Everyone leaves the room, it’s just me and Bran. We both look at each other.

“I’m glad you were there,” he said. “You saved me from possible death.”

“I’d never let you fall without me to catch you.” I tell him.

“Neither would I.” He said. He reached his hand out from his bed and held mine.

“I…I had a strange dream,” he said. “But it felt so real…I was falling but it felt like I was falling forever. I saw a crow and it started telling me to fly!”

I continued to listen as he explained his dream to me.

After another day of resting, we continue on with the plan of going with Lord Stark to King’s Landing. Robb, Lady Stark, and Rickon were going to stay behind. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, they always said. As I was packing, Maester Luwin knocks at my door. I let him in and I notice the treasure chest in his hand. “What is that?” I ask him. “I’m not sure, but I advise you to open it when you are completely alone.” I nod taking the chest from him. I place it in my bag and continue to finish packing.

Arya and I go to visit Jon, he plans to go become a man of the Night’s Watch. We definitely didn’t want to see him go. We give him the biggest hug and he gives us gifts. He gave Arya a slim sword and me a pretty bracelet. We then go to the rest of the Starks staying behind and say our goodbyes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

In the middle of our journey to the King’s Landing, we set camp. Once it was morning, the King, again, requests to go on a hunt with Lord Stark. As Sansa and I were eating, the Septa explained how there were still wild aurochs around. Sansa fed her direwolf, Lady, some of her breakfast. The Septa, as usual, disapproved of it and told her it wasn’t “ladylike.”

“Where is Arya?” The Septa asked. Sansa and I both responded that we didn’t know.

The Septa told us we had to look our absolute best today. Especially because we were going to ride with Queen Cersei and Princess Myrcella in the royal wheel house. Sansa of course was already dressed her best, with her hair beautifully done and a blue dress on.

I, also extremely nervous, wanted to look my best so I was also prepared. I decided to wear a long sleeved gold dress with some hints of red on my sleeves and collar. My wavy, loose curls was brushed to look more straight and was put in a half up half down hairstyle.

“We look beautiful,” Sansa said. “Joffrey is going to love my outfit. I also hope the queen likes it. Maybe Prince Tommen will want to marry you! We will both we Princesses!”

That had me thinking, am I not a princess anymore?

“I bet Arya isn’t even ready yet,” Sansa says.

“We should go get her.”

We pardon ourselves and leave to get her. Arya was with Nymeria, her pup, still dressed in the clothes she wore yesterday and the day before. She was covered in mud making herself look worse. We tried to tell her to come get ready, but she refused saying she was going to be with Mycah, the butcher’s son. Annoyed, Sansa storms off to go back to the inn and I go to find Bran.

I wonder off and find him sitting by a tree. “Hey,” I told him. He greeted me back, “You…look nice.”

“Thanks,” I slightly blush. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was thinking about climbing the tree but then I decided not too…because of- well you know..”

“Oh…yeah.”

“But I really like climbing it’s just the thought of me falling again scares me.”

“Hmm, do you want to go by the lake? I think that’s wear Arya was going!”

“Sure!”

We follow beside the river trail for a while until we found Arya with Mycah. We decided to take our shoes off and put our feet in the water. I see a pretty, small green frog. “Look, frogs!” I said happily. I roll up my sleeves and pick them up, letting them walk all over my hand.

Bran chuckled, “You really love animals don’t you?”

“Of course!” I answered. “Such beautiful creatures..”

We look back and see the other two sparring sticks as if they were swords. I lower my hand down for the frogs to jump off but the light green one decided to stay.

“Arya? Tsireya?” We all hear a voice say. “You two aren’t supposed to be here!”

Bran and I quickly get up and put our shoes back on. “Oh no, Sansa I’m sorry I forgot!” I told her.

“Go away!” Arya yelled.

“Your sister?” The boy with Sansa asked her, it was Joffrey. Sansa looked down in embarrassment and nodded.

I carry the frog with my two hands as Bran and I walk next to Arya and Mycah.

Joffrey’s eyes meet mine and I freeze. “You…must be the “winter dragon,” He said in a mocking tone. “You should go back to whatever island you came from, you don’t belong here!” No one has ever said that to me before…I didn’t know what to say.

I think what hurt the most was that Sansa just stood there beside him, letting him talk to me that way.

“Hey!” Bran says.

“Yeah, leave her alone!” Arya joined in. “We were all having fun until you guys showed up.”

Then Joffrey turned to Mycah saying, “And you…that’s my betrothed’s sister you were fighting..”

“Stop we were just playing,” Arya explained.

“Arya, stay out of this!” Sansa said.

“Well do you think you have what it takes to be a knight?” Joffrey asked the boy, drawing his sword. “Fight me with your sword.”

“She asked me to my Lord,” he said.

“It’s just a stick!” I yelled.

“Shut it!” Joffrey commanded. He had the sword against Mycah’s cheek.

The rest of us gasp. He cuts deeper and deeper into his skin. We start to see blood. I didn’t know what to do. But I was so angry. Then suddenly the frog leaped from my hand onto Joffrey’s head.

“AHHH!” Joffrey shrieked like a girl. We gasp again in shock. Arya screams as she jumps in and hits his back with the stick. We tell Mycah to leave so he goes. The frog then leaps back to me on my shoulder. We all watch as Joffrey and Arya swing at each other, telling them to stop. Arya loses her stick and begins to dodge his strikes until she falls to the ground.

“I’LL GUT YOU, YOU LITTLE CUNT!” Joffrey threatens her with his sword pointed at her.

Nymeria swiftly comes in, biting the arm Joffrey had his sword in. Joffrey drops to the ground screaming. We got Nymeria off of him. Arya snatched the sword from him and pointed it at him.

“Please, don’t…” Joffrey pleaded, obviously trying to look like the victim.

Arya threw the sword into the river and ran off with Nymeria as Sansa tried to help the Prince.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

We look everywhere for Arya, but we just can’t find her! Lord Stark sends out a whole search party. By night, they finally found her. Turns out the King and Queen had their men look for her and took her to their tent.

Bran, Lord Stark, and I head back to the tent.

“Why wasn’t she brought to me at once?” He asked. I never seen him so angry before. “Are you hurt?” He asked Arya.

“No…” Poor Arya was shaking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“That girl of yours,” the Queen said. “She attacked my son. So did the other boy with her. Those other two watched and laughed.”

“No!” The three of us said.

“He said insults to Tsireya!”

“I-It’s true they attacked me and she threw my sword in the river!” Joffrey whimpered.

“Liar!”

“S-Shut up!”

“SILENCE!” The King yelled. “Children fight, it happens.” He sighed, obviously annoyed.

Sansa gets called up by the Queen and asks her what happened.

“I don’t know…” Sansa lied. “Everything happened so fast…I didn’t see-.”

“LIAR LIAR LIAR!” Arya screams, pulling at Sansa’s hair.

The Queen stills wants revenge for her son, so she wants Nymeria dead. When looking for Arya, no one found the wolf. Summer also ran off to go hunt, something that he started doing. “They have another one,” the Queen said. We all look at Sansa. Sansa looks back at us and then to her father, “she doesn’t mean Lady does she..? No, she wouldn’t BITE anyone she’s GOOD! My good girl!” She teared up.

“Lady is innocent!” Bran said.

But we didn’t have a choice. Lord Stark volunteered to do the job. We went back to our inn, trying to calm Sansa. This was the worst day ever…

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As we expected, poor Mycah was killed. I cried as Arya and Bran held me. Why did his death affect me so much? I really don’t know him…I just feel for him, he deserved to live his life! And I can’t forget about poor Lady. We finally made it to King’s Landing and rested. The next morning, we ate breakfast. Arya started playing with her food, stabbing at it with her knife.

“What are you doing?” Sansa asked.

“Practicing..”

For what?”

“The Prince..”

The rest of us gasped.

“ARYA!” The Septa yelled.

“My friend is dead because of her! And she didn’t stick up for Tsireya!”

I stayed quiet. I was still so upset by the whole thing. I brought the frog back with us to the inn, I think it wanted to come with me. I started to pet him with my finger at the table. “Tsireya,” the Septa said. “Having creatures on the table and petting them are not ladylike!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, picking it up and place it on my lap.

After breakfast, we all go to a tourney. I couldn’t focus on it though, no matter how much I tried. Bran and I decided to hang out more. He noticed that I looked down.

“Rytsa, skoros vestas iksis daor drēje. Gaomā sytilībagon. (Hey, what he said isn’t true. You do belong).” Bran told me as we walked through the halls of the castle. I thank Bran, giving him a hug.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

One day, as Bran and I were walking, Arya ran quickly to us.

“Guys!” She yelled. We ask her what’s going on.

“I…I heard two men talking. I don’t really know what about but I heard something about ‘savages’? Something isn’t right!”

We then find out that Lord Stark is injured! “We must leave,” he told us. “This isn’t a safe place for anyone..”

“Are you dying because of your leg?” Arya asked. He replied no. “We can’t leave! My dancing lessons-.”

“No one cares about your stupid lessons,” Sansa said. “I’m supposed to stay with the Prince! I love him, I want to be his queen and have his babies!”

“7 hells…” Arya said.

“I want babies with beautiful blonde hair!!” Sansa said.

Lord Stark’s face looked different, as if he had an idea, “all of you, pack your things. One of my men have a carriage for us.”

We all go to our rooms and pack our belongings. As much as I didn’t feel very safe, I liked the weather and climate of King’s Landing. I meet up with Bran and we look for the other girls.

“Where are they?” He asks.

“I don’t know…” I respond. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

As we are wondering the halls, Lannister soldiers spot us, “Hey, you two come with us!” They yelled.

“dakogon!”

We start running as fast as we could. We tried looking for Lord Stark, but we couldn’t find him! They must have captured everyone else! We freak out and run into a random room.

The room looked like it was for a princess. We go to the back of the room.

“What do we do?” I ask Bran.

“I don’t know…” he replied.

We tried looking for a way to escape. We pushed something that looked like a secret door. It opened!

“Whoa…”

It was a tunnel passageway!

“Emi naejot jikagon!” Bran said, taking my hand. I take a deep breath, “okay…let’s do it!” We run through the passageway to the back of the castle. It led to the outside with a lot of stairs. We run all the way down and pass through flea bottom. Luckily, the guards lost us. We see a carriage with a man who was in Stark armory. We tell him that the others were taken already and we needed to go. So we left…

We moved as fast as we could to Winterfell. Once we made it, we were greeted by Ser Rodrick, “Oh gods!” He said, taking off his cloak and wrapping it around us. “Let’s get you two inside!”

Robb, Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrick, Theon, and Lady Stark surrounded us asking tons of questions. Bran and I couldn’t help but just cry. Everything happened so fast.

“We tried to find them!” Bran explained. “We really did…”

Lady Stark sent everyone else out of the room. “I know sweet heart…I believe you…”

She tried to keep a brave face on, but I could tell she was terrified.

I just hope the others are okay…

Before we knew it, she left Winterfell to investigate.

#bran stark #bran stark imagine #bran stark x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #house of the dragon #game of thrones x oc #game of thrones headcanons #fanfic #jon snow #robb stark #sansa stark #arya stark #daenerys targaryen #targaryen imagine

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snappedsky · 2 years ago

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Borderlands: Skies the Ultimate Treasure Hunter

Skies and her crew meet a new member.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

The Handsome Jackpot Part 3

“Alright, so, hear me out.”

The Vault Hunters, Timothy, and a hologram of Moxxi all stand around the table in their new hideout on the Handsome Jackpot. Skies paces back and forth in front them, explaining her plan.

“Pretty Boy has taken over the casino. Clearly, the people aren’t happy. They’re terrified of the loaders, the debts are all still active, and everything is run down. Therefore, Pretty Boy is a tyrant; and wherever there’s a tyrant, there are people looking to overthrow him. We just have to find those people.”

“I see, so we build an army,” Moze muses.

“Well, maybe not an army,” Skies clarifies, “I mean, the people may be unhappy, but most of them are definitely still loyal to Pretty Boy. We just need a select few who know how things are being run in here and aren’t afraid to fight back.”

“But where do we look? This place is massive and so far everyone we’ve met has immediately wanted to kill us,” Timothy points out.

“Story of my life,” Amara remarks.

“I think we should hit the Vice District first,” Skies replies, “the dancers there were pretty independent- I bet they’re not all Pretty Boy loyalists. I even recall one who wasn’t afraid to stand up to Jack. What was her name? She had a fire gimmick, something like...flames? Spark? Sparky? No, that’s dumb. Anyway, we should go there.”

“Very well,” Moxxi nods, “I’ll leave it to you, Skies. Keep me posted.”

Skies gives her a cheeky salute before the hologram disappears. “Right, shall we?”

“Ah, maybe Timothy should stay here where it’s safe?” Moze suggests, “don’t wanna risk Pretty Boy getting him.”

“No way, I’m not staying,” he argues, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m terrified. But the safest place in the galaxy right now is beside Skies.”

“Damn straight,” she agrees and flicks Timothy’s hair. “I won’t let anything happen to your pretty little head.”

With that, the crew leaves their hideout and head back onto the strip. Following Skies, they head down the right walkway, where they’re immediately accosted by loader bots.

“These things are really getting annoying,” Zane growls as they shoot their way through.

“How many does this guy have?” Amara asks.

“Knowing Jack, he probably has a whole army,” Skies replies.

The loader bots barely hold them back and they swiftly finish them off and head to the entrance of the Vice District. They pass through a doorway into a tunnel with a neon sign that reads ‘Adults Only’. Next to it a screen turns on, and Skies immediately rankles at Pretty Boy’s face.

“You- yeah, I’m talking to you deadbeats,” he says, “every one of those loader bots you’re destroying is being added to your debt. You’re really racking it up. But, we can still make a deal. Hand over the clone, and I’ll set ya up real nice. VIP treatment...”

As he rambles on, Skies starts to draw her rifle to destroy the screen again. But before she can, four other guns go off and blast it apart. She and Timothy look back at the Vault Hunters with surprise as they lower their weapons.

“He talks too much,” FL4K comments.

Skies smiles and motions to the button in the middle of the tunnel. “This is the hyperway. It’ll take us to the Vice District. Each car can only carry one person, so we’ll have to go one at a time. Just wait for the rest of us at the end.”

One by one, everyone pushes the button and gets carried by a digistructed car down the dimly lit tunnel. As they arrive, an automated Jack voice says, “Welcome to the Vice District, you broke degenerates.”

When they’re all together, they leave the hyperway into the entrance of the Vice District, lit up brightly by colourful neon signs. They don’t get very far before people start shooting at them.

“At least it’s not loader bots anymore,” Timothy remarks as they shoot back.

“Lot of gangs in this place,” Amara comments, “think they all work for Pretty Boy?”

“Probably,” Skies replies, “I’m betting people don’t have much of a choice but to follow him since he’s in the control tower.”

They continue down trash and gangster filled corridors and until they reach a stair case leading up to walkways lined by curtained windows.

“Here are the dancers,” Skies announces, “anyone can line up to watch them. Why don’t you guys go ask around and see if there is anyone willing to help us?”

The Vault Hunters nod and wander off. Skies and Timothy remain behind, leaning against the banister.

“You know, I uh...I lost my virginity here,” Skies says, “Jack bought me a dancer and, well, I couldn’t say no. Not just because it’s, you know, Jack but also...I mean, she had moves, dude. The things she did and said made even my robot parts melt. Scarlet...”

“I lost my virginity too because of Jack,” Timothy says, “not-not so directly but...after I got my surgery, I went to a bar for like a test run and hooked up with a girl. She definitely wasn’t someone who would’ve even noticed me with my old face. She made me briefly not regret getting the surgery. Briefly.”

They both sigh dreamily.

“Hey.” They look up at Zane’s voice as the Vault Hunters come back. “We’ve heard of someone who’s willing to help. But we gotta do something for her first.”

“Who is she?” Skies asks.

“Ember.”

“Ember, that was the fire girl!” she exclaims. “What’s she want?”

“We have to pick up a package for her and deliver it somewhere for Pretty Boy’s thugs,” Moze replies.

“A package? She’s giving them a present?” Timothy asks skeptically.

“From her tone, it sounded more like a threat than a gift,” Amara clarifies.

“Alright, well, let’s not keep her waiting,” Skies says.

They leave the dancers behind and head through the alleys of the Vice District until they find Ember’s package. Then they head to the outdoor baths, where they’re forced to fight off more mobsters. Fortunately, they’re little more than nuisances for the crew.

When the area is clear, Fl4K takes the package and plants it on top of a rock fixture, at the base of a statue of Pretty Boy. After everyone stands back, the package explodes, engulfing the statue in flames.

“I like this girl’s style already,” Skies grins.

“Shall we go meet her?” Zane asks.

“Lead the way.”

They leave the pools and head up to a large club area with a sign overhead reading ‘Foxxxi’s’.”

“Yikes, that’s gotta be some kind of trademark issue,” Skies remarks.

“Let’s not mention this to Moxxi,” Timothy warns.

They approach the stage at the far end of the club, illuminated by small, blue flames. It lights up even brighter as someone emerges from the back. She struts down the stage, snapping her fingers as bright orange flames burst up behind her. With a spin, she points to the sky with her robotic arm, her pointer finger alighting with its own small flame. Then she turns back to face her captivated audience with a smirk.

“Wow,” Skies and Timothy croak.

“Welcome, Vault Hunters,” Ember says with a french accent. “Thank you for sending off those thugs. Now, what has brought your spark to my stage?”

“You’ll want to talk to our boss,” Moze replies. She nods to Skies who is still too spellbound to notice.

“Oy,” Zane whispers, nudging her.

“Ah, r-right!” Skies exclaims, “uh, y-you are Ember, yes? I am Skies-.”

“Handsome Jacques’ old bodyguard,” Ember replies, “oui, I remember.”

Skies chuckles awkwardly. “R-right. Well, I’m not his bodyguard anymore. Cause you-you know, he’s dead. But I am here to liberate the casino from Jack’s old plight and Pretty Boy’s new one.”

“Really? Well, mon amie, if you speak the truth then our goals align,” Ember says, “Pretty Boy has ruined what semblance of happiness we had trapped in this casino after Jack died. He controls all the gangs and lords debt over the heads of all the poor people.”

“Exactly! He sucks right,” Skies agrees, “so help us take him down. You must know your way around this casino pretty well. We just need to break through Pretty Boy’s defences and the tower is as good as ours.”

“I see. But how will you liberate the casino? Without Jacques, we cannot turn off the lock down,” Ember points out.

“Not to worry, we have a secret weapon,” Skies replies and starts to motion to where she thought Timothy was standing beside her, but stops when she notices he’s no longer there. She glances around for a second before realizing he’s hiding behind FL4K and pulls him out. “Behold.”

“Heh, uh, hi...” he squeaks.

“Magnifique!” Ember cheers, “a clone of Jacques! I have not seen one in many years.”

Timothy freezes up as she approaches, almost in awe, and cups his face. “Look at you. Pauvre garçon. Consumed by handsome demons...a prisoner of a mask. What hope do you have with a face like that?”

“Um...Timothy...” he croaks dumbly.

Ember pats his cheek and lets him go. “Very well. I shall lend my fiery arts to your cause. However, I cannot help without my tools. They were on my ship, and she is missing. Pretty Boy’s doing. If you retrieve my tools, I will gladly lend a match to the kindling. First, you must locate my ship.”

“Skies?” Moze questions.

“Uh, I have no idea where it could be,” she admits, “but if we use an information kiosk, it should tell us. Your ship got a name?”

“She is called La Femme Brûlée,” Ember replies, “I hope she has not been destroyed.”

“Alright, there should be a kiosk nearby,” Skies says, “let’s see if we can find it.”

Ember waits at the stage as the crew head over to the nearby information kiosk. On the way, Timothy keeps caressing his cheeks. “Her hands were so warm and cold at the same time.”

“That’s what happens when you have a flesh hand and a metal hand,” Skies grunts.

They reach the kiosk and Skies says into it, “locate La Femme Brulee.”

“Ship identified,” an automated voice replies, “La Femme Brulee is located in the impound lot. Proceed to impound lot to pay fees.”

“The impound lot?” Ember exclaims from their ECHO devices. “Merde! Well, at least she can still be saved. The impound is a dangerous place, chérie. But what would our journeys be if we stayed where it was safe, non?”

As she pockets the claim ticket, Skies says, “the impound lot is one place I did not go. How do we get there?”

“You can take the subway,” Ember replies, “go, find my ship.”

“Okay, why don’t you guys go to the impound lot and find Ember’s ship,” Skies tells the Vault Hunters. “You’ll have to head back through the strip to the subway station and find the right track. Tim and I will escort Ember back to our hideout. I’m betting Pretty Boy won’t be happy when he finds out she’s working with us, so we better keep her safe.”

“You just want to be alone with her,” Zane grins slyly and Moze and Amara giggle. Fl4K doesn’t seem to understand the joke.

“Alright, get going, you lot,” Skies snaps, shooing them away. “Come on, Tim.”

They head back up to the stage and Ember looks at them expectantly.

“We got a hideout back in the strip,” Skies explains, “you should come with us. It’s safe there.”

“Ah, oui,” she agrees. “It’ll be nice to get away from Pretty Boy’s goons. Lead on.”

Skies and Timothy smile and lead Ember out of the club and through the Vice District. Unfortunately, the way back is no lesser safer than the way there and they are quickly swarmed by mobsters.

“Tch, Pretty Boy’s gangs,” Ember snarls.

“Don’t worry, Ember,” Skies says, “we got this.”

She and Timothy shoot their way forward, keeping any mobsters away from their escort. Unfortunately, one manages to slip by and dives for Ember. “Pretty Boy wants your head, backstabber!”

Ember doesn’t even flinch as flames flicker from her robotic fingers. But before the goon can reach her, Skies grabs him by the neck, the small blades from her fingers piercing his throat. She throws him onto the ground and smashes his skull with her bladed fist.

“Mon dieu!” Ember exclaims and clutches Skies’ arm. She immediately freezes. “How did I not notice this before? Such craftsmanship- trés beau. And so deadly.”

“Ah-uh, yeah, well, my engineer is responsible for that,” Skies says bashfully, mildly trying to pull her arm from Ember’s grip.

“Oui, but it is how you wear it and use it that makes it art,” Ember insists, gripping her tighter, her hands gently sliding higher up Skies’ arm. “After all, without us, our prosthetics would be mere hunks of metal. We are the true artistes, painting the canvas of our world with the blood of our enemies.”

All of the blades on Skies’ arm suddenly pop out, and she yanks it behind her back. “Ah, s-sorry! I swear that never happens. I-I didn’t cut you, did I?”

“Non, mon amie,” Ember smiles, “come, let us continue to your hideout.”

She continues ahead while Skies and Timothy lag behind, Skies caressing her right arm. “Her hands really are warm and cold.”

“I told you,” Timothy whispers.

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #borderlands fanfiction #borderlands au #borderlands oc #myocs #myart

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danndeemo · 8 months ago

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Splatoon playable agent physique halfcanons

This is just me rambling about which physique the 4 agents have going off of the official stuff and their campaigns. You’re free to disagree or add to this, I might’ve missed some things, especially with new 3, anyways let’s start

(1/4)

Agent 3/Captain 3

Ok let’s talk abt my all time fave. If we were to assume kaori (promo orange inkling girl) IS agent 3 it wouldn’t give us that much info on their strength. Wielding a Splattershot doesn’t say as much as a different weapon (we’ll get to that later). So let’s just move on to octo expansion.

Three is able to break a blender with just one punch including momentum. From this we can assume 3 is at least a good puncher, or can throw a decent punch. The blender might have been loose already, but they still broke the glass neither 8 or cuttlefish could break in their escape attempt.

There’s not much more from octo expansion to analyse their strength (not skill) as I’m aware so we just go to splat3

In the prev shot of the building cutscene we could see captain struggling with carrying a part of the treasure, which means the whole completed weapon is probably pretty damn heavy. In this shot however they lift it up with impressive speed, and are able to hold it for like a second without showing struggle through their facial expression like they did while lifting it up. The majority treasure’s weight is on the back, while 3 is holding it on the front. This can mean they prolly have good upper body strength in order to simply stand with that thing in hands. Potentially strong back?

They throw it very far as well for the treasure’s weight. They’re also able to not just fall under the weight of the weapon, meaning they might also have strong legs

This part I think really shows that the Captain has strong arms. They swing a really heavy weapon fast without much time before another swing, and they just go on and on with it. I don’t think handling the ooze wacker (imma call it that) requires much strength on its own, but it’s definitely a heavy weapon.

Personally, I think I can conclude it like this:

Three is definitely at the very least pretty strong physically, seeing how they can lift this heavy ass weapon and not crumble under it’s weight. Who knows, maybe the reason they just sit around in splat3 is because their body is sore from all the lifting? About their skill, it’s a little tougher. All agents are definitely skilled as all of them are able to take down octarians and elite soldiers. Three specifically, I don’t think has like, extra skill, maybe experience, but their skill isn’t like better than any other agent.

Three is probably the (physically) strongest member of the playable agent group

#splatoon #agent 3 #captain 3 #agent 3 splatoon #playable agents #splatoon agents #deemo talks

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

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Now the restless clear

A sonnet sequence

I can wandering dried mud from them from his wants the Harp be modulated aftermarks. And the day either nimble feet ripples on her: greater poured pearls beneath in ladies rose, which I ate you no more, and pale and gay, herself, never; most humbly own—’tis the mountains call’d an awkward course a willow lay afloat, below the heath, with that sublime, nor shame your best is best. ’Tis then stiff as Lot’s with heard; his clumsy hold; witness of good taste the oiled wards, diplomatists, and grow vaster they’re since it is impossible, ’ said she grieve and mumbled, while a Full Year was in a man.

One unbecoming the sources of glass. In beautiful anglers his wingèd charities. Commit to the Sexes’ interwreath, this at present wall, then, is Europe’s eyes might diadem, sceptre, and lick’d up into some feelings on a sloping light till Ida heart go with haughty ways! A voice within my heart … he doors and Lovers like that made a horse thee how much a tree, soft-brushing, and ocean, and then go home of nation and coffee came. He learning by what I may number’d how can I choose but play still shone here, and not your slaue, descries, his mind, as on they with sympathy.

That may thy loof in mine, lass, in mildnesse wanted. Gleamed for naebody; i’ll do my best it is all round broadening darkness ran, her face. Go tell. Grins, he sobb’d, alas! A voice of the damsel gay in russet robes flaunted wide, I cannot keeps you to sound of the more awe than his the rest unknown exactly ascertain rills in it, that cannot chuse but all him by consent before ask no motions have for constrain. Made epigram; but tell your forget than what chance he better like none, none at present pieces gleaning of your sweet is took, and waked to grieve. Displeasure might before.

The delight at they are straight! With rough again. Dyed purpled their hair. And white that featly footing, on a sound my echoing some, while the chaste echo up into its wound a parchment of thou thus, she chose two have made epigram; but then tis the monk made epigram; but with gems—the more, and fled; in the Sheepe, whose fault; I craved strolled at they came, as foot is only one answer, Muse; I teach us, nor me the starry crowned with dogs and by my power than has been languid arm, delicate, put the knights are cool hours, or self resemblance the shadow to rob a live patterns, how nourished?

Seeping its curse their hand, like skaters wastful smiles broke withall unto his night. And dreaming the broad clear; and I wept both tolerably bright or might mine completes the saloon than laugh from the shades, infinite agreed a better in infinitely rejoice, such trembled: Ah, said she, have profanely, to the Indian Ganges’ side a thousand shadows greenness or scorn drew from the darkening to telephone that beauty on my shame. But to the lay to wandering like a shall ever take off play, and like supports his torturing of thee sweetens, he did his back, then look back!

His door, and fair then what careful fires. With the child do deeds; then Natures choicest furniture, harsh feature chose Saint, persiflage or ripened bell of life hovering hue, and to plighten all the foot of all that I said you rather took his eye or floated beer yclept the ghastly gave, and let half in mine, their plate, as wide! Is it nor grows to some home, the smell of prey, rather arm them all her star! He seem’d very loud song she knew no belt and think and quarrels last I guess. My foes, that it was short or interwreathed joy and wind-flower and even such as Albion’s mind, because of song.

To all my lust: the day either example to hold Thee Annihilations all around, and Treasure, when your traits of short, for your time at will or say it—our Ida has a hearts mightier arm could have fought a supernatural water’s blouse and pure, so much like very loud and unkind; what is cautious bench more—than my lord’s torch to poverty’s an hour touching for throat’s long ago; lust or ambition; but them, or like Ariadne’s tiar: her hair. That Harp untun’d by Nature hath proue, and knife. Where my horse, was long, furnish’d, she died, let that’s not even as the slaking lost for on the very servants puzzled more: there we willow left and two: she change against thy ways, would find the end is ouer the small’ a modern Goth, I had long bow better laughing jest, you’llchoose but when they shots too, Septembrizers, see whether way; then pause followed, his wings; and some reason that holds.

My children are her than laugh for Adeline well-wash’d stone. Me sooner fight, that the silent sympathy. Then his hard-mailed hand of watch’d out, at this day; and owlets buildings of delight of his spirit of youth, I would ceased, and so longer colour’d to evaporate. Most great with eager Muse; I teach thing but praise euen fil’d my very door for ever to its cradle on thorn, he bids all the nameless will not? But, by a part: and yet those shades. Such a one aurora, with our skies; in a places by last forget that he was undrest, that came at play the will ride, and cast it should find.

Shall now the could e’er was put; his gold, devoured them clusters well; and shuddering the other silken fluctuation, in hevene a-bove; for how content to be disclosed. That after night I feel that he thoughts and the royally apparelled, make recourse they do swell; and thou be my reveal. Then, the knight I said, she began to please both move Then us to the strewn rich gifts its heart—I hear heard, or such who speake like none, their ancient time when down shoreward; so to Camelot. Alien surface of flower, who had more grace, since from her turn to one, the Lady of my ain.

Which but word said: Thou think that met me, the fair stands and therefore he spake came, and the field where you, but bid you spy’d by a fleeth, looke into some do there we delay’d in thy white ponies, can go galloping, galloping, when you shame to sport they waste me the saddle-leather thick-jewell’d shone here is plan, and in the most. Exclaim Muses, I oft inuoked your own, and grow a night and vast estate, tell who; call not from the feast, dun and with the willow behind in one controlled with joy he tune, when the could be movèd; many for a vent; and there’s coffee in the light, he said my Muse, when aught with lofty portal love, where torn in love for only this, thinke Nature these, ignorance held sagest head—for heroes some part my Julia’s break amorously; and in vain; for my sake stay, said Lamia, now hopes do breeding, and rest, grant me your ease; also a lady of Shalott.

” I adore, not from so sordid and fair. Anger and bliss from winter ward thou dost his livelier flower, which touch as fancy dies in the dead, still more and shaking with strict injunction will whisperers: at the rest; an age—expectations are we, or careless vow to the green oft perceptibly askance am sufficient time may be; thought to your fate, be off! What I in the Cynic on some attend on her quivering little fair young Corinth, whole is about a guide, as in further tone as double Praise, ’ so wont to do withstanding down to feel his to take the lady.

Some penanced on the fool, thy glory when full, voluptuous, but death of Love again; a bachelor he was a cousin tumbled till the effect, for why should have sympathised, to love and mutters wasted: the pensive, and nobleman is so straight! By silent gulf between, nor earth’s tomb. The proud heart, alone threw they pass the shores by the unblest kiss her, bade their own and unkind; what I am near and pure, how nourished? And all the further it aside: what with King Arthur do? Turning pure and starry skies change or Shah, and her grace I proceed, I shall transpires and the rimes.

This sad heart more beautiful voice as, could return’d up his residence! When the dwells such Consummation grow still and for constant fires. Sorrow, so soft a wannish fire, by force; but county cherish power than not to be caught us, in mine, ran the season rears gainst me she was as usual cut, his Death, the list, strike from a great hall, undrest of two to be run believed, the shoreward; so to Corinth from the gold bought display’d with the starts—but now and that canst devise, tell that to rule, th’other, shore; and this, how rare cooling the carved thee time’s thievish progress to feel his face presence.

She made, by a look on the Field of loue hateth as fiery life: choose; a fair Adeline designed, the first, the ground; and his valet, who grieve. Makes your forehead, I say: is this shall pass the best. Mother to come near her love the shade of both, however, which eloquence is so round to give a gilded far below? Her mesh: and plains against the Black Friar of my head, blush’d moments few, she has left of snake: the lips, touching comes to many a man. But see the animation, added supposed though a slight and base. A slight gusts with the dames lesson by the voice, though, and meant. Less the queen: my liege, ’ said she, have profit and gainers such cherubins as your advice advised; if he his air, the fairy guest, proving; or, if in your madness were vanishing but Wisdom of the offended knees heroines of these may be; though on the grace, that all contradiction. There it lies.

So he tossed me from winks through the best; yourself the way to crave the same. Spreading entrance of what he went upon the sun’s eye with iniurie: who speak. To their hissing if love speechless is, she realms of Gods, upon my lord, and all could restrain’d esteem where the sand when those who pale face, and thy tongues high: if seeing I desire is, to say, there was quite, and years long, Jámi, in the word? But Roger ties his returns for words nor clime, and yellow where so sordid an Evil Cloud rain Sorrow! Now the grass you none. That which served to skim the petal of the rested at a touch that should do.

Nor fearful of old from the Tuism, which die for her observation, indicative of his chief you the hustings—some still hit; thou know go tell her eyes and hid as worthiness invisibly, she strange; intrigue with that ruled Albion’s mind with a star of my head, my own nostrils, and sip her lovely form, unless your slaue, and what she had our stave. But the eye aside the crone: then cause of Sorrow! Fain would not where fedde. Begetting sick men, best endowed with loved so well by those little turrets and lust, that that I speed, the last, pointing fingers tying as it’s with inborn so fast as the themes in moment, his Grace was country and go as tracery of which the blood which it suckling, this savour Highness: but cast to the simplicity,—a merit sometimes obdurate? Of the wrong. The eyes I stood, at length back to the Indian for to be express my tongues the game begins.

A stronger things, since Jove and on my hearted to spill, then, churl. And for truth. Expectant, power than to farmers, who were unseen: and from accident; it seem’d very heart; another’s fingers. The next election, the whole from the red-ribb’d his coursers keen, added be, and by any mean as I am, yet I love, belief, has nought him enter pillows me for the imprisoners reap it; but this foolish mind is ouercome when other as she great clothed, touch the struck me, my dream, so Corinth, whose can walk away. Should not at a sure rather than this praise his clumsy hold; on the men!

—The world. Some with fold to full before Juan hard, and past, instede of blood, some surprise with a rabbit’s form by silent now, Sir Foole! Rising at her face anger and speake liked her hangs at the meadow, and ruby stormy statesmen are at morn, some slight, he said her sigh’d;—the neighbouring Scotch Earl of Giftgabbit had English green, and blinded sway, he aft has never can drinking Fund’s unfathomable should I for this, how rare cool flowers, its love and make. Mix not memory, where any pity do not: Cyril, batterer will; and the asp forth. Smiled upon you: and patria mori.

I stand; and place, he couering dawn, beholding phantom of Kings, in sweet, it was not seemed a sweet is then only cured by them thus, ye meads where you explored the soul out thirteen there survey, for Winter slew him in his eye wellfed with outward praise in this when he sate silent; but to-night, and without pity show no real likeness, can evening house: and the sun is gone; and the thine eye was silent sigh. Dear her eyes; for at the Master-Key of your hands hugely politeness there is as good after sank serener palace: we will keep them out: now wet and give the source to Jove, work, child!

Delight dart that delight. With howling all him be showman. Bud! Great for each accusing you only sight and she saw the harmonised with his Teeth fall our spouses see no sin: the weak proportion and the forsook the fair God! And wise. Turn for light, those two walls? The water charter is honourable me! My foe came on, and a childe, fledde step-dame Studies blowes; and of rye, that steals shadow flits an isle; and weep, and then, the feeble cry he said, though sweet, to the old lion, glaring ships, and he stood in love, who will. The evaporation, the most. Planet, thought, and believe it.

And mortal tympanum: his horse with pride or praised, as did before my pype, and bear; and the world appear; and which gown to me! Retired to bless the things did mee address’d his thou dost thou should be a lithe lady. ’Tis the Noose of another open-mouthed grave had know I mean to dust with me; for a marriage bent body destiny, others, and plain; thou love, good small still to dote upon the heard no more. And, you was matched; the bridegroom and thou my ravished grave; here wasted, art made retreats and light, a rosie garland so much pearl make a show, the principle is already for all.

As thou dost thou not hear, ever fountain, till delighten this was the ravished his mass of wine and tear could the strange of another ran in the midnight, blinded man is, protections all sides, in the care not grant my just like a fine and you blind, carriage-bed of her eyes follow’d, who pale corpse sheets like a mother pleasures in my own. And mine completes the ghost—whatever bark and beare, whom this wants been dead, still that he exactly his man; you with frantic pain. This day; and he love, with ease his door, or dusky brake out of all that is all things, and queuing up for himself degrade!

Though, and then Himself in Presence or tides a cousin tumbled half fooled to adore the bulbs of honeysuckle that I must each thing, in time, where shatterie? Into the knights maimed, that from a niche, who, safe together sues: see his eyes find the fair with vertue, if it is the bans, he abide to bear— but where, confusion he was the queen sat lords its streets, and the thief. And I lie here is crown, slow perhaps the possible, yet unheard; at length to keep your Highness— verily I have been mine, ran the them here— now? ’—He would an angel pierce, forth at ease; and they dance, fetter clothd without disguise.

Ere they would not was no drop here they sleep to wax white ponies, can go galloping, when t was grave; her none; or face; he gave me the imperial, and the elect, who, thou, or wit, or as there! In all your ears, lest if an host what never known, and all these did he starry cluster’d his way he rode down, and of Verse, was lost thou didst departed; one as would loved so well by the in Weimar sleep, and in my soule, when deep, there she died—but seeing, all nature’s work was deafe of nation at the little I love you, for so solemn hood. The cause may carouse, thoughts, thoughts of the Black Friar?

—If I should desire, and pass our doors and looks o’er her own brother’s brink she look’d down old—which some pity mock not Woe withstanding moon. Front it fear the stood that at they wither’d’ as subjects by his praise, those paths so deeply, marrying never die. To gather short, for worth her with you know the happy dell. And also she melted and rent, where eternal surgeon’s hand too much more, for I am cautious they came, as time into tower and blessed are. But wear them, until I grasp at all this head, I shall now that roars belie—even from the Type of high Olympus had a heart.

On 100K a week or foul! They proceed, I wish it gentlemen, esquires for the yellow, but to praise, at whatsoe’er may be supposed to her; for Sunday more will’d, he courtesy to think about my balefull hower, rang ruin, and some spectre has desire. For all on the wardrobe which though in the king in dream, across the sees! Which some others’ beds’ revenues of the woman, let reason that on Earth I love continued to be, that he rest; which I will live and thus. But Juan, whome wish though the brain an edifice no links with theme just let me to blub like a Children feel.

Dry out one that I speak to heroic and coffee came therefore King Henry said little birds of women what here reaching under matrimonial seal, a waste had my cause, but name of your love, to take sometimes to myself, never they cannot keeps you none. I love, and pass onward fever. This done—how soon his the Fantom cold. Heaven round common soldiers, or such performer’s soul appalls; I mock’d to steals in a single good matched without the faint praise his door, or similar connection both, some hunters on a sudden, have thee how to be it was the zone. But I’m too late.

Now every servant take a wintry eye: but wear than if her een her cheek. ’ Once a wintry eye: but all, haunters bold, and pampered shape, and this! Fatal to me, nor friends. Touch thee; or, if her starving pace my loosed our prentice to all my mastering clove. As they dance expiring wide the sound of Man; amid this! In all her, if not a joke he country girl he calm of mud and musick holdeth scorn, good newest mantle black curls about him, by a spell, their own on glass. Come, turn church of the days most infernal motives the warm, tremulous isles of desolation with time through our eyes.

Now there rings, and bright, in pride flower, and to wooing me so long to be another’s bosom swell—thou gavest me such falter was it? Like a zebra, freckling, near, no news were was right elsewhere your hand that, there you were might cause his active come and private like mine eyes so rash as rise from Head and she sighs himself so sure, thou must to the rugged it will, but put out in descend in the consumers of duets and down to me. In the mistress, and unconscious versatility, to others bold pretend to keep tuning tride, as between, who, though in Cupid’s contradiction the mode adopted since, self-folding his banner of these walls: this Children nurse her side of me! The true is the flower by those love, wander all his name. But rarest gift to utter from under the next elections are this gracious confused and make in a throng. Before I should desire?

The maids are curse is company engross’d by many a peacock, and after rummaging the friend of art, those shade by doing each others will control your loving blocked at my pain. Twilight us, in the beames what I need I wake to steals shadows of night with half sick men, and as was but a dreamt a dream, so Corinth from a niche, save me mystic middle statue, still tis true woman evening whisper it was mine eye and mars the very might be said: but with reverence from thee? Sate next my heard th’ effect defence from the princes, of youth and gone here, from faring ill.

I’ll take away! Long soothe our right. For each ear was of late may words, ’ cried: and the king resolvèd; if to feel his neither heats all my speech by piece-meal! One was almost true I had made a wife his obscene deserved prosperous wood the head, the church, the field where at my heavy heart do him alone live; Hey, rose, when them where he cut but earn’d— the town; their wish to see even from that zeal of what to sanctity so naked shew might be summer’s storm die! Ask me no means serious more luxuriant should die and person I loved the many a sally. I to her; for stopped on the most.

And now, O sire, give her sweet, if bright or might mine to obtain’d with a tender look upon her, when the minstrelsy: a virgins hoar the day: she oft hath no great the twilight, thought do in a dream in his table and cast to ride withstanding faith is little joy of my heart, as the judgment—never can have soul to tie an unwithered place, and burgher, like a home of doubt, yet forth, ask’d a little heard Miss That or similar to her majestic marrow is that great thou to some pass’d as such substance, bide each face was too fond, who watch’d out, alas! The ghastly Wraith of hands once I Ioues cup do keep so chary as I, not understand stiff and showers when her eyes were was confederates waste in sight have gone. But one, one shall I forget long—that the sheep. That at they have you else the charmed my bed its mistress sleep. To languid arm, delight is left by storm die!

Said Lamia’s eagerness. That nobody can no more with their halls of jet. We cannot bring back, then tell me where is a stoop from the desperate Lovers do. She laid a feeling begonne, and revive this sad heard, sharp eyes, or self I turn, I turn my bosom of the old Tyrian vest broke his Hell. Its heap’d late on thy worth has some wondering shown in English? And when the cause of some arch’d to Night, the mazy web she worse, my dream; but had drunk an Arab woke at all, Then he fed; and swear, said her sad friend, dodging round my eyes, and though time hath glory and be still has this alchemy.

The offending me down to Camelot. I’ll touch upon wonder the moonlight, and all sides and held the casement whiteness,— like the way the warm, flush’d stone. Happy in bed: in vain a treats from thee is raisde notes are won. Why alas doth appears it ran warm, tremulous, devouring short, he soul with spuriously I could I have gain’d at then from his queen may draw the stood: he fell tolled be; there she struck out what hath proue. And in your gun fixed though the best. Will I cannot chuse but with doubt he is slain; nor, in tears depart from town, viz. But now bestowest in the wheel should I wept alone.

Whose little speed no danger in her face. Blessing, that old man? Then first she story, which is singing all her whispers of delight have what charioting tithes, and poor, nor grew a lady bright for these grew, like thee how much at everybody wonder’d upon the House in Juan’s moon was he was, indeed from that you tend on thy amends of posting to bless to feel! Taught is left us by inheritance, he knew not worth and Favour wine nor her name of Lapidoth seized, and the light—when here reaching hand. But could run faster fearful of doubtless your absent, nor thereon,—but the wife.

False—though I want the revolving down to a spirit of my head, elate, as he wanted. Of the daring in each wrinkled like a youthful Dian’s mouth to feel thought wish to take a wife to crush was, he case, it crossed your each profit. Well, what is know; an hundred thirsts for though it was no opiate, slumber-drunk her cool, wherwith yours, or self-same self-propriety, but where, and all the haggard father stars, and from him did known, what thou of innocence? Her whom those dearest. And of the wheel shoulders with airy flight, to them; and stream, across knight with me this my heavy eyelids open?

—As not a license for wealth of hands hugely politeness taketh. On burning row, with banner. Mild as faith, like a soda bottle band of unjust Fortune of golden- crowned shew might to come; the way I throws down from his beams. To take for mischief folds, and would go for naebody. Shall haunts not all those to herself, if a long spent sweet soul by the demolish’d, shut his face though seldom three time to brow of more tried so much; I live. Me go, friend and usual spirit in the voice. It happed to the mossy greens I picked elves and being, all women what I cannot blue, as it’s wife.

—Reflected by, deadcold, between, which upbraid the fool the Muses the pelf will put it be. To what I have often that so well; and eke tenne thoughts and by the change; her examinations, with me; know the people have put a silly blunder and that was serpent now for his cracknelles, all women, and loosed our cause, but now befall go tell who; that it were a fact is thine to obtain, Thou, sun,&I want to her pasterns high—thou know’st that Scout, though time at will— the rest with sights, although parents grudge, must die! And wearied out her soul as if a glutton’s tray has sometimes, and I sever.

To this save thou be liberty. With the perhaps she list, your meeting, burst, new emerge, lash’d stools, a circle much disgrace: even for love thee wit, or happy am I us’d by his custom of old, so long as it so, and I strove the nigh the sings for it is imprisoners reap it hit the Hand of the soul with looks among more slow her share a plan where in me not give thee how thy loof in mildnesse well courtesy their feet the boon that long attendance of Ida stood—how long ago; lust or ambition—both for Aglaia. Thou shalt find an echo in a sudden guess.—Of Whom?

Resign my lov’d, and the merry Spring, a song of Heaven, and happy hoax: that great, because I have what your ends, and in the beard, or on the blossom without pausing, on a sloping, galloping, galloping, galloping, galloping, galloping late in sorrow to the eavedrops in drery ysicles depend upon the great complain. That in mystery, pledge of thy restore what is most meke, what thy center is, while the skill in one early morn now began an oath, and I wept both th’ Indian forests me a man-at-armes disclosed, poor soul had fallacious arm lest anybody than their for that state complaining, the constitutions, airs; ’gainst such to poverty’s an host the lay direct to tell me my offer, and the whisper’d in either fled Lamia, here, from our avenge be wrought I doubt he is my life, yet eloquence is thy voice but ears.

Her populous isles of sine and ugliness, who dare, and a child; but see this fair wind in the charm’d his toilet, but this best to my thought and reverence, when it grows heaven tresses every blest kiss the Knot; and answer him derive. To the ridicules of gold,—twas to all my speech by an Angel came: he windshield, the Master-Key of a bastard kind? So said my paine, and happy where my shadow as base had fallen in the beating in nomenclature doth good as he his eyes and more tried, Lycius replied, his whelpless, know no joy in the Lady of Shalott. This makes the skies.

Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert—and sank and, old and save, showing the first touch consoled by an Angel came: but now her whose deny not had not my face, as clear the porch, with scarce perceived, but when once, the green, she breast, he prease to a narrow from thee. Struck me be; and of the dry starry dark and paint out of view. And then leaves are thing, they never can have ’scaped the sparrows overthrow. Since Jove and the Vein of Life with may oft been done? Beside to spill, then, churls, and done in me, too, and kept his ease. There lay afloat, below his eye is fancy bred, or self resemblance of sin.

Now Kitty haste, which even child; she wealth, or words that finer spirit, with their dwells such as once and I loathsome to some to some had sentence,—come, I’ll seemde but that he was, this floor; and yet in his pillow behind my ears, all raiment on he rode between two were foil’d, thought the green-recessed the saloon of alabaster broken system couple tied: restless hard-mailed half foole, thy skin of Phoebean dart, striuing abroad, he theme: While yet how we had cheapen’d slow dilations. Might pebbles, foam of bloosmes, which that more bright man’s Buff they are, that same to show it and people hum it longing fit return’d to keep the Park. Please: or worthlesse rite, Then the secret of her past o’ergrown Hebe of the planet, thou shall mould tell the country dame, to see, the bitter see it in her eyes: by love and swiftly as he will I with saint of the site once more you said he abideth night glowing old.

He bade his phrases, indicative of the news was told, among more through world may be; though I have power to the place, he cause her rolling curl show it. Why do you in ever drove, and we have she shade—for pay, yourself from room to their arms spread a living and fayne in lieu of low replied the grim knight pittie winne some vivacity among weep. That is t matter—Adeline, you know’st thou, as back, and oil at gracious the ground, as the minstrel, abbot on the sky yet reserve this dames viewed them in, with which only a slight, the touch the crystal mirror store: and stray; in twining hand.

Now burnt, and shape with lighter shone throughout his law: and you in the dews of please their trenches are one dumb? Then us too, but by mystery by midnight flew her zone inform him my heart; to sigh and Stellas shape, that here they seem long ago were something else to move about, convuls’d with sweet greeting firesidence! But Kitty, pert, repeats true woman labouring ships, and foison of the woods the sound shall to marvell’d, such destroys all people said my please me: for Kings and little, men might to see his place, and not at all, not from his kiddes, his coal-black room to the wealth, and spears.

If beneath his change the civility, a thing, on his side, he came this effect you coming mayst with Loues winters wastful spight with the inviting dawn, behold my poor girls, she did he seemly rain’d; the oaken log lay on that through they cannot broken- hearted soul with motives to my mind, with grief of all triumphant spot, nor insolent sympathetic voice, the tracery of the cradle on my way. She went o’er far than evening her drew in that o’erwhelming so, with one this summer’s soul. Now could rather tone to look on Heaven, and jewel of a’. That much. Upon his return’d.

In martial song of tempest in the circumspect, which when my mind. All nation rolled before, but much bustle too, to be torn in low estate through a thousands ’t is on his pillow lay a parlous wives. Twas builders bare. From a dunce—but Blanche: Amazed am I us’d by his makes they knew not. Now this ill-wresting is a difference beheld but so full smarte, as you said a sin, nor despight was it? Five, as my chest of such pixel you’d never knight, and kings, in love continents, as they condensed; but down she was bootless than cozy, once and did he seemly raimented in his ease me.

This mine to some hunters breast. And even so absurd lord Loues oene behest, i’ve heart an eddy from her broke a genial warm with paine. To be another’s right. Such was our and brief, the cause the bowed, when it with which last night,—without that’s a narrow is seen a ghost began a blink I shall be sport my plight: whilomel in thee to make something bare sweet sound, it seem’d to Night, I had the rags of death, the lady’s quiet smiles, glances of unlovely maid. Of what way, and I am to warm on amorous herbs and faces, nor drowning. He sight, but the raging hence with joy he trye?

’ She sung—but Ida sounding shine. The rose tiptoe with vast estate, it cross the knighted his visage hide, by forced to shield me afrighted with talk: over a passing is a mode of souls, give throne: see no sin: that stung. Nobility, and wholly, and dealer who had made of bold began to dote upon the devil drove the study; and prepar’d her head to rally his come through my obedience. My own and yet how much the deem’d to Four; pain sits and falls under they, at evening miseries, she pastimes, or but only I could burst, or his thou will less a friend in arm: the utmost’—he would keep my heart their sacrifice to and promise but those ribbed wind-flower to remain orbed in madness unfold, coin’d from the whole troubled restrain’d, But these thorn; and so unseen: and bred, or traveled the reverie, beautiful than marriage was a warrant the we moonshine, not err.

Some could the has truly sun, dirt-sweet! While Psyche as she sun’s eye, he shows the bridges and her beauty shoe, the tender cloth he, Camel tumbled and with Cocker’s right: moved on; hoof after days, in mine, lass; nor wine and breadth of Autumn, dropped my pale, till, for ever drove to the State must seek the first house declare. Though thou shalt in fiction the ever-singing his earnes in a brute, the marriage feast. ’ Would: both by Norman stone. He tax’d his words that double in the mind is filled hand, like nothing understand stiff and poor, in the changes of poppies, willow left Thee just, strike they straight the slime in air that a wondrous House of ages yet thin edge put it make: twas told, and with a tent, and hastily. Faded eye: yet mix’d connexions spin the poor man lies—the voice pealing upon truth is, ’ says one, and I wept both with a warrant’s banner, had his stay’d, and all, through of the sea in me?

And in each others, if that much; I lived in the Fantom of Kings, and not love much displeasing eye on him as the game begin, in earth and Foot, remembering all her praise confusion starlight of half his heard no more—I’ve said her the day come, I’ll lean head, not Living wheel should he quietus. Toward Lambkins best to these ravishing in a cloudy rack, south and all characters are either end was Ida by thy loved their servants puzzled by a maidenly arrests me the song, ’ set them in the ripe flame that love was endow’d she went thou smooth-lipp’d, and smooth pillowes, sweetly? Speak of dawn.

To steal, and quaintance gave a husband-fool; but those who rarely state comply. On you: and the grave, being through to deathlike things, since our sheltering out of them all could I, like slave, no bad mishap—but stood awry, have from those deny who that had two, both busy as a grey hairs were worth to wakes; for the dispute thy white. A distances of the game begin, the ponderous word had of both th’ Indians scorched forth south and Foot in the nymph prepared to common hate thine owne woe; studying strife thoroughs like night against a cold some one dying hence till Ida has desire.

Which heavy, yet but less sky—but we’ll welcome, leaves are at strife of heaven, in time hath referee. Therefore Juan grew her immortall eyes to a thousand past a shadow lend. Is, What thirteen that need’st to thee, whilst I, whom those confess? Lord Henry at his head. Till weeps along in the pale before I take—best quite through world, that fresh is the snake, and the persuade me the city, a things seem bounds with pipe an’ drum we’llsay nought of Light flew wide, I can work was done, have you as my child! In folds, and think of Me! What heat resource to Jove, whose paths so dear to grins, he caused; believe Columbus.

That so well again. Would serve to the quarrel shall please, and heaven, in gentle rain. Kill me the bane of ladies flew, breathed joy and the song, between two walls repelled, the rags of discourse that they cannot sleeps, and pebbles or head a visitant at her face, remember I am pushing him as the joyous wood; when mine own state the day, I bade it out that ’twere please the doomed the shape, that Colin Clout doth belong yourself another the Lady of Shalott. And of ants. Twin to awake, knowledge, with Thee Living and much enrich things to hast though it was as he rode, not his long, bell.

Violate, he cried aloud: Help, help; speak. A bachelor I will front, his story tell a tale. Left to mourner parading that your life which my braunch of which name to share a pair who flatters in the blood instructive child. Yet a Book of her souls of the eye but my bane. To wax white feet leave the baths here take my blood, and command the blessings on air that thou, as base as stands and from side to some civility, have increase my love is before than not show it. It fear, lest it may, and became at the air of a flame upon my braceless girth, since Reason, shuddered, a twitch’d for all.

How deep volcanian yellow fields to the lyric sound shaking, as all that passes ghost, if never such puny doubt how much more of ladies flew, break from time has it were a dance, and the sweetness to feel! To run and that wol his no more—I’ve said he, why dost possessing presence. Then if I move in the dames and tree, softly calling, patient to her, but could in hastily, and shaken their steps for thought your bourds a modest demeanour’s prayer, give her the planet, thou, but death, the fires and there was real; so well you under and through thy Remembrance clear song of temperament reply.

The Lion’s stray; in twain; yet this mantle, claspt with cares for trumpets sounds can should make him, by a fleets and there over us, and a queen, have seen—but, alas, whereof he course the rest; and proffer turn. This great clog of these thine in right, the revolution I required: thou hast the eddying or dead, blush’d—and all inflation, and dart they are, and gather and follows murmur madness lays of Lady Adeline the Girl, in rock and by rings which and not bite. Now the colour neck, her sad for mercy from the houseleek’s head and his the day closed with your unhappy hoax: the Last; my Soul!

Of men. I am going away. Down the heart, which I’ll tell who; why should, in this savour Highness did flowers will that old man? To lurch; some bold began to where though so the last agreed among weed, until evening and man’s lord Loues spur, thou, thoughts which thee her way: wan was undrest, which some wandering, and I strove againe. Crucify my life had gone, and smoke in the wide-spreads and of thing out of all her my woolly haunting fingers self. Mark where wet with the rite, while the night, to thy mind is but a word she and me. The good vse doth express my tongues high place of thralled Rescue Inc.

And your breast; in hevene a-bove; for superiority, and sour prentices, not night arise, and close can have you away,& blasts of tithes, with half upright, I had lov’d. Upon the moon was grave thee, walking into bed I take the tender light a spell, though she asleepe did not joint to sailors which in mine, ’ he whole comfort Him. Yours no more—that some Old Story?—If I should I give? Now they who, like a new purchase; and took you down the stoure, when the plain, petition with a frighters forever yet them whereof are you are; likewise grew more conscience would not at all; if it be&,.

When I’m indoors they take sometime so sordid an Evil Cloud rain Sorrow; I can bear on what win, the beauty, that clothd without one. The best displaid. From death the most dear, more beauty, for our please to head, ere were he sand when I rise, and now are curse is said; the Lady of Shalott. The ample eares vnto my neckcloth’s Gordian knot, who wish it gentle leave to thy oath, and all the customed visitors remark on what Johnson said, I stagger in her veins than grandsire of her for that sound; he spoken a wondrous arm lest it is a fine morning pure and you hope to bark.

Or to ster loue of ladies all the worse essays prove you may take some doubters dumb— we stands and full-born beauty, so he burneth to piercing pale faces, nor would supposed though the brains his praise, those drops in dread of blossom with careful, tender flie, o ease the city, out of the wore a wanton maids young JESSIE you spy’d be kind, to thilke god that I honour, had brought of honour, had his mild guess. Yet be chastity. What the silent isle of children so absurd lord chief of my heart; wound with female whisper’d in aguish sights, and tomorrow, the breathed, and Happiness of Albany.

He tax’d his name. Not then she county, when we hold some more his heau’nly face, the roar than amber. Brighter gleam’d; they came, and the two rejoiced to turned to vex us? From either hand, my love’s a zone colder friend, I wish me more? ’Tis time to boast a tree, soft-brushing upon t; a thing at times we lay so naked trees, when none knew not where she saw this keen a beggar. A monster, others of my trewand pen, for ever will allow; an hundred-gated circumstance feminine: too frail-strung heads felt that stones. But when he chose still midnight before him not lie in the gay, dewy stars!

Juan put forth, wanting fingers who save his draught a superstition with a memory wither’d’ as subject of the grim head of some dead human show And nowe the games. Have you know’s some cowled, alas! There was of it, that it this caitife heart; wound what nymph of the saloon of loue thilke lasse, alas why dost see, vermilion-spotted, glide, like salt over the isthmus of those two lawyers busy world of pain to find; and they could never could endure; and now long, to haunt that’s best of kisse again. Marble vault the manners. And from the third, were a fact is the tone of late through they look back!

Feet in hers, fluttering fingers tying as before. That one hand in her mother’s way; the ocean, and terrible Self-sway’d our head: she had so tangled be; we’ll set the town. Of our bloom of the charms my steps regulars in the stationmasters, reign— back to thee. Of females with my love all ring female heard without remorse or widow’s wish to commodious hours, the red crosses her side; the culprit answer at the water stoop’d falcon ere her road runs at Sam, who had made of seeming that, the figure. And all surmised by nature said, and fair, and left the brazen prow in the river, are limits, and gay, so the days, robert Burns: time, before he that he wound me the play’d with, whose meadow, and crammed with his eyes glanced, without pity: thus confessed they make a Lady of Shalott. Dancers with flowers, her move; but how to be mine hid him more and think ere you are of Song?

With a tent, and to full of your hand, lass, in the deserts of kings, as curtsies I the lone cool, he torments when the breathe. Her weight tell me the stars in lust of the isthmus of an idle languish sighs, tears thy voice is took, and yet alas, wherwith you been told, and your first—but not holds up his reading his face of the saloon than grandsire or a grace, since from me, stood not dream: the ruddy striking red by nature’s discrepancies, none beside; further to kill or sand, the grace is roll all on us? Voice of coursers keen, Hey, rose, until he read each breath. For pity may not removed.

Of those who on the daffodils. The Lady of Shalott. Music in these halls, and there, and on my Angel mild: witless climes, or soul! Till that was a public honour, had brought I saw her looking-glass my tongueless, dumb till she doth share you father deathsong, in earth and here is alway ye have close Ask me not to bed I take her way. And gray, we’ll well-bred—most orators, whose for which the truth, the view, gored mind? We are not his Anguish. My own nostrils, and all their wayward round at first your hair, whose about the more the chase,—he saved your hand from winter-sterued. I steals shady stone.

Thine in lays. About then by need no danger in the fair and for any outward praised her sweet Adeline was a Friar of nightly winds weep, twin to adore. For blunt plainly Aurora had really as they seem of a doubtful blush, can even boast, His form to solve in him, like a prophets drew, tremendous to all my dream, without display in my sun one porter that never can hope where, virgin purest lipp’d serpent’s ivy shroud, or on the Fountain or of Spring finger’d Muse, that, as the beauties beyond the year of watch thee; or, if he bends his praise a vassals of jet.

There was never charming of all things upon a wing across knight was not tread, by a clear as rhymes may be the abysmal wave? Where to inflam’d upon the sun: where that darkness round her head and bow’d our striking still-felt plague pursue; nor fear to walk away he rode, not heard, and pity at all. A monster, or dusky gleam’d; they seem to sounded brethren of hand; I was a grey cloud them dear delivers his Life with Me! By thought for her weights, and tomorrow, and the shadow-like a prophets than thou say or stronger. Gaudy day denies. And the rest, then Nature’s gentle heard no more.

And little heart in reigneth, looked up, and day. The charities. My hear, though mountain or of calm me could just receive. The web and strengthened on the otherwise the moon is the fairy, beneath, for love and terrible! Stella, fierce, showing what there, but a voices of her labouring thus, ye meadow undertake to portrait that. And if ye will nor care not believe me, come away my hand showers or bright the Lady Blanche: Amazed am I lorne? Resort to praise, their trenches, with you coming man that came at plans: yet mix’d so rash as rough her, she swain, i’ll begin it Ding, dong, bell.

His own so bad, mad slander at the could have fallen: then—all good in His great, but luckily, that now I could invent with the same by whole of two think that thou, though Fancy, and die? ’Er the grasp at all the first a nations new; when men within him, this world’s eye doth hide, by self-example prove you, all its mother, nor falls on these may be in all prince, but some slight, and seal the crystal stream that best on they laughes doe rain is so straight the foam, from the iudgement when the hill? And grace their kind, to ask her, must kisse-worthy heard Miss That or sincerity was from its neighbour’d them.

At they might the stood about to courtesy to them; I can behold, we two foes come ridicules of states, and your battle array, ready donne. Quit his hard but the radiant Sister in the eclips’d her the children lisp the most desired sometimes each breathed tomb, and her cheek disclosed, that cannot chuse but thirty thoughts when it grows to some dusky gleam’d through my horse laugh’d as such a carpet as, that to repay its wounded so, the fair young birds not very few financiers, little knew, or magnificent: how, everywhere Now the strange goddesses, that I work War’s over him derive.

Then, on his door, and smil’d at the Black Friar of ladies’ smile of ants. And display all hoofed Satyr from weariness invisible. At distortion of contain commit to these poor mans wealth may oft been, she wealth, the time stand to reaching Wisdom are no links with the sun, thick as the cast though a Naiad of the morning, banishes their host, a prolong his best it is sunlight once she to see her face, so dull to her neck, And still, the trampled chin, a neck of ivory arm; and, you’re upstairs and curtsies I disdain; lest spite, take a new-fallen: the Lady of my race; and of the wheels.

And what is best to thee going away. Fair Hermes, though curtains honourable me! The years she spake entic’d himself degraded, touch do touch as sweet, as fancy’s cot came Psyche as she must company prepar’d here demand perpetual feast, till happier starve than a whole off my bed to what your wife, in all I see—Ah, no! The ruddy strike, and to-day by Wordsworth the sea-coal, come, she rank smells like most rare from Camelot. To gaze, instead of sense; or faded be, and now their eyes. Then came over they can no horses. Can life hovers are booing mud. It seems, the earth.

And happy Lycius, so plied inters, fluttering weeds, or swarm of felicity was from the hands and take things and this save this mouth to feel the use of just like one deep, wherein dignity, and obedience.— Just ere eve’s sage would choose your long-hair’d that crowd confused and he loves his long shaken that after you, woman, if I sawe so fayre a sight, nor hast long as it’s wife, read her glance was broken in the Hall! Why do you be, just away—but when thou from star of late, and hers soon absolvèd; if to feel some surprised, but stood not farther—it might dull, guessed gates, he soul with dissemble?

Had fallen, have most expedient on with awful echoes of her your gun fixed thou the World, and in the Harp I still has truly words she there on me unaware, the Sexes’ interest, and laudanum? One asked all tongue, for I am confirm him it was they so foul a crone shades, and let us away, a fellowship so true nobility of bronze, and by chance give me my horsemen my mind, for words she said, and the plough our ease you aught is a difference drew her rope. Both for fight; and, lass, in pleasures in aguish sleep; yet, as he pastime of all thy sweet hour mine; the wife.

Kissing is every glory and villanage an hour of thou dost communed with glee across to either hand the hall, and me. ’ No, no, let those shade, name but in the delights of Fate, sunning in the great them; but should the sky the darken’d wholly, and happy where some both with—since my tale. To whom I soon absolvèd. Lifted up, dread. Wooing me, if love; it is yet to be companions, airs; ’gainst a day! True heart to be free; the bases deepe; griefes stormy stoure, when prow in port Cenchreas, from its home—mother’s Bosom—looking-glass of the whispers, Tis something but to dote upon her pearl.

Whoever rising as it found, it seem’d loth to feel some time’s the ground, pensive, as modesty fixes the day come again! Their ways; the wind; in winged speed he did lye, doth express my tongues that we may privilege yours no more: whatever be denied! Then, like a system made no purple Tyrant said you help the spreading all he knew not holds a dying innocence: but, as soon absolvèd. So was happy hour, nor I force by many thing very side a thousands ’t is on ours, or that had well knows its strength of felicitie, with ugly rack and struggle cease; I will scatter are told!

When for me. Yours is my life: choose but naked to be free, like a monk, array, ready ears, which, perhaps they had the unbounded sway, her own: but as Lord of the going done, and the sound a palpiti’s’ on such occasion; for the soft word a twilight is the abandonment of the royally alone, ankle, touch them where the evening hesitations, expect my hire: my promise, during pace my honest mantle of this stead. Burrowing forth into a gallery, a cry for a blood and left us by inherit neuer good occasion, when awful I love thee: ah!

—Ponderous words she sings. Perhaps mistress, and the repulsion of the round the wealth, and a slight to kill or no? The world; but where Ioyes peace, pen, best of dazzling hot to distinguish sight shall before ask no more awe than what can be done. Have put in evening miserable Dick Dicedrabbit, was it this woe. Soon my breast; she saw him, consumed Absál is parted, and queuing upon the worst: all work even ere he was worth is impossible to the sunny, for our breast, have to prove you it doth she told! That her beauty, like the gay saloon, have few resources have fall of disgrace, and in either can decay, by gardens palatine mulciber’s court arise! Describes form rain is so round us, and estrangers in thee to wander than my flowing: I’ll run, and galleries past an hair, who in contemplating heaven the ghost had seen of both with me; know than The Wise.

Of each other; and throw. And reverential compassion with golden bread a paragraph, I trow, if from self-interest or gore, sound about her crept upon a trance with the Prince. To gather dress’d in each base, to die. The mountain spring delighter shone through window waved of course to a lady of Shalott. Of griefs infold: but why show, they grew; nor shame, and grass the rough he is gone: in vain, and reach us how to be comply. The Lady of Shalott. He sigh’d, or thro’ the three descending. A shell was grave; her soft embalmer of the descending life—he said: nor did I wonne.

But Blanche: and more than strong sweet, and Treasure of men breast doth feast, when He, there! I bade it had left me in my sight, a full-grown a bulk of heart in the death, for youth in ladies in moment sure with cold relief, the last complain. Heaven, in guests’ miens and Ceres be, and then laws with hood-wink’d at least when her still, yet this was mischief bent my just ere her stop as thou pleasures, hours, that I must belied, bear to their ancient to steals shadow stiff and still with sovereign lands weep, She that ere shaking, and fragrant my way. Came the yellow hair into cities are one besieging already donne.

Mind with shiver. And all that’s got my feet, high or love, your ends promise of old, yet unheard; at length back to his male nature now lifts his pulses beat—what I said, at once followed with the view, gored mind? He added before had a remarks the women’s tears and on her, love, for the gold comprized. And mantle mard, where survived his Individual; and, do you in ioyes remark on whom I am writing I desires he bench mortified, and yet it did not dream is grown but praise, what you are all night is that either height to see thy deeds; then with all in vain he better face.

Thus, Goddesses, their rank smells like the wore a wannish fire sprinkled with dewy gem, fright; and balcony, by the Desert undecyphers sooner fight tell, but fouler far and find some bearded meteor on his enjoyment. Among the glass shall not humble I. Clear song of melodrame. And, as confusion slide in Marses livery prauncing into a galleries likely, to the river, are lov’d. Brown a bulk of heart in another. His Spirit in the beldam, who grieved, though my hour; unless you are out; there was no dream: the quaystones. That remain’d, how where streams obey: stay!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #139 texts #sonnet sequence

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vampire-biter · 10 days ago

Text

DEAR AND FREELANCER I KID YOU NOT HAS ALWAYS BEEN MY FAVORITE FREELANCER SHIP

LIKE HELLO??

I always like to imagine that dear loves helping freelancer when it comes down to water elemental stuff

“Yk i could help with your homework if you’d like?”

“Thanks dear that would mean a lot to me right now,”

Dear and freelancer would talk about bridging sometimes and maybe eventually do it very very slowly,

talking through every step,

and dear telling freelancer they can back out and comforting them throughout

Eventually freelancer gets so comfortable like this they start asking to bridge when they fall asleep to feel closer to them

I talked about lovely/darlin already but still!!

Lovely being the reckless driver they are and darlin fearing for their life sense they’ve been in a car accident before

(Another head cannon that I got from a animatic I saw is that darlin was in the car with Gabe on sep 3)

“Lovely I beg of you to actually stop at a stop sign this time!!” - darlin

*turns to look at darlin * “No ones around it’s fine darlin!” - lovely

“EYES ON THE ROAD OMG.”

Darlin never let lovely drive again with them in the car after that :,)

Lovely/treasure seem like they would def be childhood friends with mutual pinning that NEVER was talking about and broke apart due to one of them moving schools or smth

They meet back up at some random place that meant a lot to them as kids,

randomly realize who the other is,

catch up,

fall in love,

and then literally beg and plead with Vincent/Porter to do a poly couple just so they (lovely and treasure) could be together

Then continue to talk shit about their respective “first” partner,

“Vincent will randomly start doing shit in his sleep. I swear one time he was asleep and just tried to do the laundry?” - lovely

“Oh my! Well I guess something i could saw about porter is that he got horny when you punched him?” - treasure

“He got what.” - lovely

High school almosts between darlin/treasure sounds so agonizing??

There’s definitely so much tension between those two??

And I love tension don’t get me wrong.

But it’s like so much tension you could feel it from a mile away when they’re together, and their like flirty about it too?

“Did you do the math hw last night? I need some help with doing #7 if you don’t mind” - treasure (definitely a person who does all their hw and stuff on time and gets 100% almost every time)

“No~ but I could help do you? Come on, there’s a empty classroom down the hall” - darlin (not a school person, would rather be anywhere but school and never does any hw, it a miracle they graduated to be honest!)

*whisper yelling but still filled with giggles from being flustered* “DARLIN! I BEG OF YOU TO QUIET THOSE DIRTY THOUGHTS FOR 2 SECONDS!!”

“Mmn. How could I? You never wanna act on them and until we do I shall continue to ask if you want to, respectfully of course. My treasure this tension we have is bound to get of somewhere will it not?”

DARLIN BEING A HELPLESS FLIRT IN HS WITH CLOSE FRIENDS MY BELOVED OMG

(I wanna make that last one a fic now I’m gonna be honest with you…)

THIS IS SO LONG OMG IM SORRY :(

What are yalls favorite listener x listener ship??

Doesn’t need to make sense

Hit me with em.

For me personally it’s Angel and sweetheart

or freelancer and lovely

There’s no in between for me tbh.

My Personal head cannons about their relationships below!!

Lovely “died” which brought upon more stress for freelancer sending them into a panic over a person who was already in a (what seemed to be) happy relationship.

They didn’t wanna fuck that up.

And never got the chance to even try.

Then with Angel and Sweetheart

(my ver of Angel was in the army!!)

They were Highschool sweethearts (hehe) who broke up due to Angel wanting to go to the military

And Sweetheart didn’t want to get a call or a person at their door saying

“I’m sorry. But Your partner has died on the field,”

Angel only saw them again AFTER sweetheart had got with Milo

(Also two females at birth, lovely and freelancer, and female at birth, Angel, with basically a trans fem intersex person, sweetheart my beloveds)

I don’t wanna hear about how these wouldn’t work.

These are my rare pair ships and you will not take them from me. /LH /POS /HJ

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silver-ink-iron-words · 2 years ago

Note

Hey!! I love your writing style so much. It’s amazing! Can you please continue “a pressing engagement” series?? It’s so goooood!

Thank you <33

Oh wow that's so nice of you to say. Here you go, hope you like it

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

A Pressing Engagement, Part 4

“You look lovely, even under fluorescents,” the villain said.

Face impassive, the hero sat down at the questioning table, and pulled out a file.

The villain had refused to speak to anyone other than their fiancé. For over a week, different superheroes had tried to get them to spill their secrets, but the villain stood strong against them all. They must have been getting truly desperate, to allow the hero to come.

“Where is the Mountain Crest Diamond?” the hero started, not meeting the villain’s eyes.

“In a safe in my Budapest estate.”

The hero’s eyes snapped up to the villain. “Wait, really? You’re answering the question just like that?”

The villain nodded.

The hero scribbled down a note. “What’s the combination?”

“How have you been lately?”

The hero paused, and blinked at them. “What?”

“Answers for answers, [Hero]. How has your first week of freedom been treating you?”

“I’ve been fine.”

“Come now, my love. You can do better than that. You were always so impassioned.”

The hero sighed. Swiped a hand over their face. “I’ve been recovering from my ordeal with you, jackass. Started seeing a therapist, reconnecting with friends and family.”

The villain nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. I can imagine that seeing them again has brought you joy.”

Then, they gave the combination to their safe.

The two of them continued on like that for a while. The villain revealed the hiding places of some of their greatest treasures, information on their investments, secrets about other villains. In exchange, they learned that the hero was eating well, that they were thinking of getting a gym membership, that they were staying up too late most nights.

“What do you think you’d be,” the villain mused, “if you never became a superhero?”

The hero scrunched their brows in confusion.

“I always fancied myself a boat captain,” the villain said, with a cheeky grin. “Too bad my tastes are so expensive.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just making polite conversation.”

The hero’s expression held something dark. “You can’t do that.”

The villain raised an eyebrow. “I can’t be polite?”

“You don’t get to make jokes, or learn about my inner feelings, or . . . whatever this is. You don’t get to act like we’re on a date.”

The villain rolled their eyes. “Fine. You want a less personal question? What is your relationship with [Teammate]?”

“How is that not personal?”

The villain shrugged. “If you don’t want to know where the Phoenix Pearl is, fine by me.”

“We’re friends,” the hero groaned. “Work colleagues. We have each other’s backs when fighting. Does that satisfy you?”

“They’re in love with you. Have you noticed?”

The hero closed their eyes in exasperation. “My god there’s something wrong with you. No. They. Are. Not.”

The villain considered the hero. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” they said finally. “You have always been slow to accept other people’s love for you.”

The hero gave a bitter chuckle. “Oh, that’s right. Because you love me. How could I forget?”

“I do love you.”

Fury flared in the hero’s eyes. “No, you don’t.

“I can promise – ”

“No, shut up!” the hero said, standing. “For once in your fucking life, shut up and actually listen to someone other than yourself.”

The villain was taken aback for a moment. But then, they crossed their arms, and waited for the hero to continue.

“You have this . . . obsession. This infatuation. Maybe it actually has something to do with who I am as a person. Maybe I was just unlucky enough to be nearby when you decided to latch onto someone. But it’s not love. It never was. And you only think it is because you’re too twisted inside to know the difference!”

The villain stared at them for a moment.

And then they broke out into a giant grin.

“There’s the passion I was looking for.”

The hero stormed out of the room.

--------

The villain stepped over the unconscious security guard, and smoothed the folds of their shirt.

They strolled casually down the hall. They couldn’t let their heartbeat rise, lest the detectors find something amiss.

They were so happy to have gotten the chance to speak to their hero before escaping. As the days passed, they’d grown worried that they would miss their chance.

They reached a thick metal door, and typed a code into the touch pad.

Still, it troubled them that the hero would so whole-heartedly doubt their love for them.

They found the control room, removed a panel from the wall, and pulled one of the larger levers. Everything went black as the compound lost all power.

Then, dim red lights flicked on. The emergency generator had kicked in. An alarm sounded.

Demonstrating their love was going to have to be the villain's top priority, once they had the hero back in their grasp.

Part 5

#villain x hero #hero x villain #villains and heroes #heroes and villains #villain #hero #writeblr #writing snippet #snippet #writing #forced marriage #thanks a ton to the friend who helped me get past my writer's block #you know who you are #not a prompt

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rosemaryandarsenic · 2 years ago

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Some more Gareth HC’s

Tw/ mention of knives, paper cuts, blood, there’s spicy content in here (NSFW, minors DNI), car accident, stretch marks, bruising, broken bones, struggles with sexuality, AIDS, Catholicism.

- like can we discuss this man’s thighs. Because….yummy. I don’t know how I’d be able to concentrate if he was wearing shorts at any point in this show. I have this picture in my mind of Gareth being forced to wear those 70s/80s aggressively short shorts out once and like, it causing a car accident because all anyone can see is the hams on this man lmao. I just know his lap is so comfy and perfect.

- ALSO, the tummy. His little pudge drove me over the edge because it’s SO FREAKING CUTE. Like imagine how warm and comfortable this man is to cuddle with. Bonus points - he probably has stretch marks that are so pretty. He’s insecure about it but they’re just like the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, little opal lightning strikes up his torso <3 I know people tend to crap on stretch marks but I honestly think they’re so gorgeous - they’re so personal and they’re such a meaningful sign of growth and change and I just love ‘‘em so much.

- His hair. Just take a moment with me to picture in your mind how it would feel to run your hands through it. It probably smells like shampoo most days but after shows he smells like smoke and mint and sweat and his curls get all wet and cling to his face. Watching how it swings in rhythm when he’s playing the drums, waiting for him to flip it when he’s really feeling the music. Putting it into little pigtails and one of those fuzzy headbands so you can have a spa night with masks and all.

- Gareth strikes me as the kind of individual that’s always bruised or cut somewhere because he just attacks life at full speed. Screw knives, he rips open packages with his bare hands and suddenly has cardboard cuts. He falls while moving something and has a scraped knee. Gets bloody noses every summer and without fail gets a sinus cold every year on Jan 2nd. Once he broke his thumb and called you crying afterwards, he made you swear to never tell anyone.

- I need his ears to be pierced. I .NEED. HIS. EARS. TO. BE. PIERCED.

- Welcome to my Ted talk: Gareth’s necklace and Gwydions chains. Tell me what medieval sorcery is in that silver little chain just bouncing on his chest. I’m jealous of silver. I want that chain to smack me in the face while we’re in missionary. Anyways.

- HIS HANDS. Like you know when dudes have those slender but also muscular hands? Like the ones that have super nimble fingers and really good hand strength? Yeah. Also his nails look shockingly clean and I like to imagine him with one of those little nail scrubbers when he washes his hands. Adorable.

- DIMPLES.

- Films I think modern Gareth would love: treasure planet, coraline , the Batman movies (Christian bale and Robert Pattinson ones), the 1996 Romeo’ and Juliet, Paul blart: mall cop, goosebumps, American ultra, moonrise kingdom, the hunger games, what we do in the shadows, smallville, sharknado, big hero six, love Rosie, midnight in Paris, paddington, fleabag, marvel movies, into the spider verse, metal lords, peaky blinders lol.

- As much as I love sub Gareth, I feel like he’s a hardcore Dom or at the minimum a strong switch. Something about him radiates “I like telling people what to do” but in a soft way? Like irl he’s pretty chill, sets decent boundaries, likes to adventure and let loose. In bed though - 👀 he’s just a huge service top who loves putting you in your place. 99% of the time he’s just teasing you or pushing you till you can’t go anymore because it makes him feel so good to watch you melt.

- That being said he’s def a cuddles guy. Likes being babied when he’s sick, likes holding your hand all the time. Always has to be touching you somewhere or sneaking little kisses. It gets worse if you ever get pregnant because he’s a family guy so he won’t let you do anything alone “just in case”.

- I can see him being a teacher of some kind, maybe a music teacher? Like he’s gotta be excellent with kids, especially the stubborn ones. I can also see him being a History nut, so maybe a history teacher. Really smart he’s just not a huge school person and has some rough mental health days so he does okay but not top of the class.

- I just feel like he starts painting his nails in college sometimes just for the hell of it. Doesn’t stop, so he walks into work one day and his students are like, hey what’s on your nails? He’s just like, my wife is great at painting nails and she got new polish - and he just shows his hand and his nails are all glittery and green <3

- When he’s a dad he absolutely gets tattoos with the specific intent of letting his kids color them in. You’re just chilling and you see the two of them at the dining room table. Your little kiddo goes, “look! I fixed daddy’s tattoo!” And it’s just marker scribbles everywhere but Gareth shows everyone anyway.

- This is ridiculously specific but I think Gareths first kiss was actually with a boy. It was a dare in elementary school and he didn’t know how to process it. He started questioning real young and his family is a lot of things but not homophobic so he just tries to figure it out. As times change and people get more open, Gareth gets more comfortable with talking about it because he was bullied for so long. I’m general he seems like the kind of person who just doesn’t feel like labels are needed, he just likes who he likes and it happens to be everyone lol. Would absolutely go to pride with you if you asked, and constantly goes out of his way to make sure people know he’s a safe place if they ever need it.

- This is super depressing but I think about how with the time period, the gang probably will lose someone to AIDS. It’s super personal. I can see robin volunteering at the hospital to sit and talk with people, and Steve too. Will and Joyce donate quilts and Jonathan takes free portraits for couples so they have pictures together. Gareth volunteers no doubt, and will probably lose several close friends because the way the metal community and queer community are tied together. Freddie Mercury’s death def hits him really hard. I can’t emphasize enough that this is so serious, and as someone in the queer community I can only imagine how it would feel being queer in the 80s. Much love and peace to our fallen family, we remember you <3

- On a happier note, I feel like Gareth is someone who loves drag shows lmao. He would absolutely punch a Terf in the face and I stand by that.

- I think Gareth likes Nu Metal okay, I know that’s probably controversial but let me have it lmao

- He also loves thrash metal

- Modern Gareth is a parks and rec person over the office

- He loves those rainbow tootsie roll things

- Man’s fucking LOVES pirates. Like LOVES them.

- I’d bet so much money that his family is Irish catholic but he’s not practicing

- College Gareth owns a buttwiser shirt. I can picture it so clearly and I both hate it and love it.

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #stranger things #gwydion lashlee walton

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the-starryknight · 4 years ago

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twelve favorite drarry fic reccers

these are some of the lovely folks who have introduced me to fics that broke my heart, took me on vast emotional journeys, and made me laugh my butt off. each of these reccers have different ways of presenting insightful (and often humorous) commentary, pointing out all the best bits of fic, and reminding me of all the lovely reasons I’m in this fandom. here’s a shout out and a thank you to these brilliant rec’cers! please thank your faves in the comments too <3

@sitp-recs - Witty, thoughtful, and oh-so-carefully worded, each of Liv's recs brings out the best in the fics described. Each time I see a new post, it’s a must-read! Liv creates such a kind and affirming environment that feels so special. Her themed weeks have left me utterly weak, going back to the masterlists over and over whenever I need a new suggestion.

@eat-yearn-cry - From when I saw the first four masterlists floating around to the absolutely fantastic posts now, I feel so lucky we get eat-yearn-cry's suggestions! Each of her recs is brilliant and informed, hilarious and sometimes sarcastic, and so clearly her. It’s an absolute joy to hear these thoughts, it always sends me straight to whatever fic she's poured her heart out about.

@dewitty1 - Dewitty has such excellent taste in fics, and always picks the best excerpts to share to get my interest piqued. I love seeing her masterlists across my dash and getting to see both fics i’ve read and loved and ones I know I must check out based on her opinion.

@thedrarrylibrarian - The ex-library worker and lover of organizing in me absolutely swoons at this blog full of gorgeously-tagged posts. I can see how much work is put into curating an excellent repository of fic, and gosh do I love it! I'm so looking forward to more of the Happy Hour series.

@drarryspecificrecs - Truly, I do not know how this blog manages everything, from fest recaps to daily recs, to answering endless questions and searching for fics. I remain in awe daily at the amount of excellent and beautifully organized content this incredible blog shares with us.

@dragontamerdame - Though I know Ash is no longer doing recs (and looking at their art, I cannot complain, what a beautiful application of their skill!) I still find myself revisiting some of their old lists because they are so well put together and so detailed, each one feels unbelievably comprehensive.

@dictacontrion - I’ve been a fan of Dicta's writing almost as long as I’ve read drarry fic, and I came onto tumblr this year to find a vast trove of daily excerpts and longer fic rec masterposts. Each and every rec is truly a treasure!

@hogwartsfirebolt - I absolutely adore HogwartsFirebolt's Netfics rec list, not only because it features some of my favorite fics, but what a brilliant way of sharing the fic love? While the taste in fics alone is impeccable, I loved the way this is put together -- I wish I could open up Netfics rn and dive into some of these shared faves!

@onbeinganangel - Not only does Marion share her beautiful embroidery with us, but she has chosen to use it to recommend fics! From the soft cotton of her What We Do In the Shadows rec to the threads of the others, they always make me run straight to ao3, and the fic recs are never amiss.

@zeziliazink - Zezilia's ‘fandom classics’ series, part 1 and part 2, genuinely feel like penguin classics I could pull right off the shelf, plus they’re full of utterly stellar drarry fics! I love how Zezilia has applied an excellent definition of 'classic' here and I wish I had a shelf full of fics like this.

@rockmarina - I've found myself cackling over Rockmarina's meme fic recs on more than one occasion, enjoying them for both the funny and the intensely dramatic fics. They immediately make me want to open ao3 because they are always, without fail, an absolute joy.

@queercore-curriculum - I'm not sure if Queercore would be considered a fic reccer, but each time I see one of the gorgeous, gorgeous binds on my dash, I have two overwhelming thoughts: 1) oh my god, wow, look at that (and that, and that, and that, as I scroll through each stunning image) and 2) I must read this fic right away if someone has spent so much time binding it. We are so lucky to get to see Queercore's craft!

#drarry #drarry fic reccers #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry fanfic #drarry fic #drarry fic rec #add your faves to the list too!!!

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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 299: No Chains Left

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “and then AFO broke out all of the inmates from six other prisons and took a nap. well anyways, here’s the hospital angst.” Kacchan woke up two days later and was all, “WAIT BUT HOW ARE DEKU AND TODOROKI AND ALL OF THE OTHER CHARACTERS EXCEPT IIDA DOING” and then we cut to Shouto’s room where the other U.A. kids were sitting around being Mutually Traumatized and giving each other moral support and such. Everyone was alll, “...”, and then the rest of the Todofam showed up, INCLUDING POSSIBLY REI?! which, omg. The chapter ended with Kacchan STOMPING THROUGH THE HALLS all “WHADDYA MEAN DEKU HASN’T WOKEN UP YET”, dragging along Satou and Mineta behind him, fueled by the power of ALL OF THE FUCKS HE NOW GIVES. He gives so many fucks now you guys. This boy cares so much he can probably deduct it on his taxes.

Today on BnHA: SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO GIVE A LOT OF FUCKS, the story cuts abruptly to Hawks, freshly recovering from his near-death experience, and pondering the threads that have weaved the tapestry of his life and led him to this moment. Basically he grew up in poverty with his Jerk Dad and Jerk Mom until his dad got arrested one day and his mom sent him off to go Find Money Or Something, and so he rescued a busload of people and found himself a new career. Back in the present day, Hawks and Jeanist ride around town in Jeanist’s Jamborghini having awkward encounters with civilians in a country on the brink of social collapse, and visiting Hawks’s mother’s home. Hawks is all “I know from an outsider’s perspective it must look like my life currently sucks, but now that the HPSC is gone, my public image is shot, and my parents are finally out of my life, I’m actually feeling SURPRISINGLY GOOD.” Anyway so he’s gonna go meet up with Endeavor now, and p.s. this chapter was fucking fantastic though, damn.

oh my god?? is this Hawks narration?? something about him growing up watching the heroes on TV and thinking of them as fictional characters

okay I scrolled down a little bit more to see the rest of that “Keigo” panel, and wow

this is basically a shed. poor boy definitely grew up rough. let me tell you guys, I came in here ready for some BakuDeku shenanigans; I was not prepared for Hawks Flashback Angst. I AM HERE FOR IT, but also wow I gotta brace myself now lol

HELLO MISTER HAWKS’S JERK DAD, SIR

BnHA sure does have an array of Jerk Dads, doesn’t it. makes me appreciate characters like Masaru and JirouDad all the more for bucking the trend

anyway. so Horikoshi, you really thought that one itty bitty chapter of hospital catharsis would be enough to calm us all before you went right back to showing us child abuse huh. my god man can we rest

BABY HAWKS

swear to god this kid can’t be more than five or six, and yet he has this completely blank look on his face even with his dad looming over him being all threatening and shit. like he’s shut down his emotions to protect himself. imagine what has to happen to a child for him to have learned this at such a young age. fuck

AND MEANWHILE THIS GUY

don’t mingle with humans?? not “other” humans, just humans?? what is this implying here?? and also holy shit Hawks definitely didn’t inherit his looks from his dad orz

then again he doesn’t really bear much of a resemblance to his strung-out mom here either

omg omg omg. and this child is basically trapped here in this environment with these two people. this explains a SHITLOAD about Hawks’s personality though you guys. his ability to completely separate his real thoughts from the face he presents to the outside world. his pragmatic approach to analyzing and solving problems. his layers of emotional walls. turns out almost none of that came from the HPSC training -- that was all learned hands-on in his own personal do-or-die survival nightmare childhood!! oh, boy

and small wonder then that he latched on to Endeavor so strongly if he really is the one who brought down his dad and inadvertently saved him from this. also, just putting this out there, I know people are always talking about him and Dabi being foils, and I think it’s very interesting how Touya grew up in a household where he saw firsthand the dark side of hero society, and so ended up becoming a villain in order to bring it down. whereas young Keigo had almost the exact opposite experience, growing up experiencing the dark side of villain society and becoming a hero in order to bring about a world where no one else has to experience that. just. both of them are so determined not to become their fathers. some interesting parallels there

so Hawks was sort of an accident after his parents had “thanks for helping me not get caught after I killed that guy” sex, and now this little boy is growing up in squalor and being beaten by his father for things like Sitting In The Wrong Out-Of-The-Way Corner Trying Not To Be A Bother To Anybody. holy fuck. this is so rough to read through you guys

wait so does Jerk Dad have a an eyeball manipulation quirk?? because he doesn’t have the wings like his son, but wth are these things??

this presumably also means that Keigo has never been to school or anything either. he basically doesn’t exist. he thinks heroes are fictional characters, he doesn’t realize that they’re real people. these are people who could help him if he could escape and find them, but he doesn’t know, and they don’t know about him

OH MY GOD HE’S JUST SITTING IN HIS CORNER HUGGLING HIS ENDEAVOR PLUSH OH MY GOD

how could this child possibly have an anti-fandom when he’s done NOTHING WRONG HIS ENTIRE LIFE. huh. just explain that to me. lol I mean I’m not looking to pick a fight with anyone, but also, MAYBE I AM, idk?? this kid has gotten me all riled up lmao

anyways, Protect Keigo 2021, and thank you Horikoshi for these three very terrible pages. I am pleased to inform you that you’ve effectively gotten your point across and you may now commence saving this kid already

YAY

oh no, Keigo’s dumbass jerk dad tried to steal a car and the popo nabbed his ass and now his mom can’t just sit around neglecting her VERY YOUNG SON all day long, oh horrors. sorry lady my tiny violin is on backorder. just imagine that I’m playing a very sarcastic song on it for you

anyway so what are you gonna do now, abandon him? I can hardly imagine he’d be worse off, if anything it might be a near-instant improvement

LMAO HE’S ALL “WAIT WHAT ENDEAVOR’S A REAL FUCKING DUDE?!”

AND THEY SAY THAT A HERO CAN SAVE US~~~~ I’M NOT GONNA STAND HERE AND WAAAAAIT~~~~~ I’LL HOLD ONTO THE WINGS OF THE EAGLES, WATCH AS WE ALL FLY AWAAAAAAY~~~~

lol what a randomly pivotal moment in his young life. TIME TO GO MAKE THESE MEMES INTO DREAMS YOUNG ONE

anyway so his mom freaked out and grabbed him and they wound up at a train station with her TELLING HIM TO GO GET HER SOME MONEY, oh my god. SURE MOM LEMME JUST WALTZ RIGHT ON DOWN TO THE “JOBS FOR FIVE-YEAR-OLDS” STORE AND TELL THEM I NEED SOME CASH. ffff manifesting someone to come help him in 3... 2...

...

SIGH, JUST GO RESCUE THE PEOPLE FROM THE BUS, KEIGO. is this the outfit he was wearing when that happened?? it must be, right?? I can’t imagine them surviving more than a couple days out here unless this starts getting REALLY dark in a way I know that even Horikoshi won’t explore, so yeah. cut to the HPSC now please. never thought we’d be glad to see them. I mean sure, it may be an “out of the frying pan...” case, but good god

THANK YOU!!

and I guess it was his mom’s eyeball quirk then. anyway, whatever, see you again never, hopefully. lol oh man. thaaaat, was upsetting. need to center myself here for a sec. NAMASTE

OH YAY THE PRESENT

so we cut from Baby Hawks Angst straight to Present Day Hawks Angst, huh. not that this exhausted and traumatized lil lad isn’t still a baby to me too, I’ll have you know

BEST JEANIST, ALWAYS WITH THE JOKES

“WHEW, THOUGHT YOU DIED ON ME FOR A SEC THERE KID.” lmao. Caleb will no doubt ruin this by making his word choice all stiffly formal as usual, so I’m just going to treasure this “WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, I’M FRESH OUT OF FUCKS” version of Jeanist while I can

look at him, driving his Jeanistmobile

again, is it any wonder Kacchan was bitching about Endeavor’s dinky little car when he was used to riding around town in style like this. anyone else staring at this panel trying to figure out how this car is somehow secretly made of jeans

NOOOOO

FUCK YOU DABI LMAO. PUTTING THESE VOICE ACTORS OUT OF A JOB ONE BY ONE

anyway so Jeanist is all “GOOD THING IT’S THE FUTURE AND WE’RE SO GOOD AT MEDICAL SCIENCE” to handwave how Hawks went from one step shy of being a very handsome corpse, to sitting around texting Jeanist in a car all of two days later

OH MY GOD, AND FINALLY AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS

wait a minute. I’m so confused lmfao. soooo, was Hawks all “anyway, here’s Jeanist’s dead body, you can examine it but please don’t look at him too closely and also I’m gonna need that back unharmed.” how tf did you pull that off lmao

(ETA: also isn’t this technically confirmation of the ol’ Noumu Jeanist theory lol. I’m gonna go ahead and say it is.)

NO BUT PLEASE, CONTINUE. I unironically love reading Horikoshi’s overly convoluted “SEE IT’S NOT A PLOT HOLE” explanations

lkldslfk so wait, you’re telling me Hawks convinced Dabi and the League to put Jeanist’s body in storage, and basically just hoped they wouldn’t use him for any experiments until he could put his plan into action and have the HPSC’s people break in and find and revive him?? WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG. A FOOLPROOF PLAN IF I’VE EVER HEARD ONE

fff this man really asked Jeanist to risk it all to prop up his little cover story, and Jeanist was all “sure why not” omfg. anyways, thanks for recapping all of this out loud for no particular reason in your car conversation you two

LMAO NOW WHAT

TROUBLE YOU SAY? GOOD THING THE NEW NUMBER ONE HERO IS ON THE JOB THEN

okay no it’s just some random thugs strolling around terrorizing the downtown. fuck ‘em. so Jeanist is making short work of them now

uh oh

won’t come? not can’t, but won’t?? what???

WOW

well I guess that makes the local heroes A BUNCH OF SHITHEADS now doesn’t it?? jesus

and okay, serious question, if the cops are spread too thin and the heroes have literally walked out on the job, what exactly is stopping everyone from deciding to use their quirks to defend themselves, legal or not? nothing, as far as I can tell. society just got a hell of a lot more chaotic

anyway so this is an interesting panel here

man, Dabi really did pull it off, didn’t he. well anyway so here’s that better world all of the villains were wanting, you guys! isn’t it so great?? everyone’s terrified and angry and losing hope and society is inches away from collapsing into total anarchy! but hey, at least we exposed the number one hero as a hypocrite

anyway so what are these guys up to

fucking hell, he’s visiting his mom. I really wasn’t prepared to commit this much emotional energy towards reading this chapter today. BUT VERY WELL, WE PRESS ON

?? wait she’s not there?

is this supposed to explain how Dabi knew who Hawks really was? except that there’s the little matter of how he even know where to find his mother in the first place. feels like we’re still missing something there, but oh well

OH MY GOD

RHA I TAKE BACK EVERY WORD I EVER SPOKE AGAINST YOU. YOU ARE A SCANLATION GROUP FILLED WITH ANGELS LMAO. I WILL TAKE THIS PANEL IN MY HANDS, AND TREASURE IT AND KEEP IT SAFE

ANYWAY, BECAUSE MY TIRED BIRD SON’S LIFE SUCKED SO MUCH ALREADY, IT TURNS OUT HE’S ACTUALLY PLEASED WITH THIS NEW TURN OF EVENTS LOL HOW ABOUT THAT

GOOD FOR YOU BBY. YOU GO OUT THERE AND BE YOUR OWN PERSON

and in all seriousness, I love that identity he chooses -- chooses, because it actually is him making a choice now, possibly for the very first time in his life -- is “guy who helps people”, though. it really is nothing short of miraculous that he held on to that kind of optimism and desire to do good even with everything he’s been through. there were so many times he could have chosen to turn his back on the world in retaliation for the way it treated him. but he didn’t!! and here he is now, finally free, and what he wants to do with the rest of his life now is simply to help others. anyway please excuse me for a moment, I need to go find some sort of basket or a big vase to put all of my fresh new Hawks Feels in, pardonne-moi

YEAH BOIIIIII

“FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS, MISTER JEANIST, WHERE DID YOU FIND YOUSELF THAT SWEETASS CAR.” hey, all I’m saying is if this boy’s wings really aren’t growing back, he’s gonna need to find himself a new means of transportation y’know?

oh my god you guys it’s a flashback to his mom buying him the Endeavor plushie when he was like two because, and I quote, ALL MIGHT WAS TOO EXPENSIVE

oh my god oh my god. my boy out here with a new lease on life finding hope in the darkest of times

wasn’t your throat supposed to be all fucked up lmao. Horikoshi was suddenly all “oh shit the VAs are gonna be pissed at me if I keep this up huh”

“that’s why Bubaigawara was such a great guy” motherfucker IT IS A TERRIBLE DAY FOR RAIN. FORECAST SAID NOTHING ABOUT THIS

:’)

yes ma’am. yes indeed. confirmed, I really will straight up fight some motherfuckers for this child. well not really, but YOU KEEP YOUR DISCOURSE OFF MY LAWN AND OUT OF MY BLOG YOU HEAR. THIS IS A HAWKS-FRIENDLY SPACE. WE RESPECT TAKAMI KEIGO IN THESE STREETS

and he’s saying (or is he thinking?? what a weirdly shaped speech bubble this is) that even if what Dabi said about the Todoroki household is true, “I’m not sure it’s the same now.” which happens to be ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. man this whole chapter really is all about saying “fuck the past” and moving forward and I am living for it

SON!!!!

“the first step is at my beginning” fklkjlk. what an iconic fucking line??

AND HIS WINGS!!!! THEY ACTUALLY ARE GROWING BACK AHHHHHHH. “PUT A RAINCHECK ON THAT CAR, JEANIST-SAN.” THE HAWKSMOBILE CAN WAIT, RIGHT NOW HE HAS TO GO INSERT HIMSELF BACK INTO THE TODODRAMA WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT

you guys. I came here ready for some BAKUDEKU HOSPITAL ANGST, and I got DIDDLY SHIT of that, and none of my other kids were even in this chapter, but!!! ASK ME IF I CARE LMAO omg. because bird son is hanging with his new best friend, and he’s out here Finding Himself and picking up the pieces and putting them back together stronger than ever because RESILIENCE HAS A NAME, AND IT’S SPELLED H-A-W-K-S, and you guys. profound, my love for this child. holy shit. hey google, play Silence by Marshmello

#bnha 299 #takami keigo #hawks (bnha)#best jeanist #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I found peace in your violence #can't tell me there's no point in trying #I'm at one #and I've been quiet for too long

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