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libidomechanica · 4 months

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Untitled Composition # 11748

A sonnet sequence

Poor boy, ’ she said, that we read, hear, drear has our dead self, nor shrink for fear our solid aim be dissipated by frail successful clutch, and strong, and swoops the vulture, beak and moss and slug and all one rag, disprinced from her grand imaginations saved, and bless our simple name! Had been as short- hand of the chase they were dangerous speed: and so ’gan crave forgiveness: yet he turn’d all earthly goods save tithes and bad, and ways be foul, then nightly sings this to the misplanted Norwegian trees refused to serve on horses’ backs, and all thy passion puls’d its way—ah, what perplexing! Eyelids.

And her small good we’ll talk about in Silence meditating Job. Yon cloud with the fulness of his whole in tenderness—too harsh to yours. Of herself in her pure immortal river. Which in their milky bosoms on the wake of the rough, tough soldier, burning. Here at length their women’s feet; of lands in which unanimity, that scornefully lookes askaunce, tho will we work for fame; though so shorten I the stars and titles could form and haughtiest lineaments, with a long debate; but hastily, and to toy with those six hundred cannon duly set rose over the blue of her.

Long bow than my forerunners. Farewell to wish him back a bachelor now and the rampart. I had wanted to make of it. The man kept walking on a shining draperies, headed like a fluid haze of light from our huntsmen’s brows.—For but they lie t is said to the larger soul reflect the image of Absál set it awhile before. Those who fought away with doubts, all scruples hence remove; no man at one short hours from their brilliant repeat for only the sward; lay out the dark hours, but all the chin, lie round the frosty dark; and as the wind pent in a cataract leaps in glory.

Who fought within our perfect seisure? I have now had sketches of the vallies green together with a stuffed animal tucked beneath the bonie lass o’ Ballochmyle. A mirror’d hell! It fears not policy, that he may triumphant springing one’s own care. I know how the youth of Caria plac’d the loss, war’s most modern battle with speed. Shall it not bear a double April old, aglaia slept. The firmament outblackens Erebus, and cracks, and down from over her shrink for fear our solid aim be dissipated by frail successors. This world was free! Stay and the eagle scorn the earth.

That all this mystery was its passing hour’s supporting fairy, all beneath the same we are three parts of those stopped clock. No more, and shall prospered; till a rout of sighs— all the Bees which indues its votaries, like moonlight, as reflection, knowing it, pushed by the green malignant light comfort is the wisest tongue since their guns with solemn psalms, and silvery and bare shew cold through the gray linen slacks, all the mean time, cross-legg’d, with fierce alarm he flapp’d towards heaven’s high-prompting: not that his back, exclaim, says Hotspur, long ere the word. Out of wedlock and kick your forest wildernesses.

To attack: but on the chance, for the lovely, that ill they open to joy and pain; while now the sickle, proving thence but sweetness, Sweet, with the inner me that fine relish, that his brain into a ditch, follower of thought her necke becomes such burning, till beauty’s store, behold I find it, Sir, for me! Was happiest among the stately Pine set in a cataract leaps within our perfect seisure? Heart droop and hide her answers quite terrible thunders hoarse. We were wan and white like pallid cheek and shining scales, the invisible cord. Under the blue night to night. Instead of night?

His visage an inverted sky bloom-covered, while my little fault, and learne with Maiesty. And Dick the shepherd blows the moon put forth in nine moons’ time. Odds, are touched above the crystal circlings white arms, and sigh away the light he seiz’d her wrist; it melted from weary sides King, you are old, by those jacks and Gills and shouted; the cow slung with dazzled lips her state complaint, it dies upon a cavalier. Sister, seeing it, from various nation, as e’er would make their eyes make a Roman sort of god, to several volumes would be at! Half alcohol, to that one word I have to say.

And that fray; the Princess judge of that’ she said, How’s marriage-pillows, to their new tricks, and made his last attack, when courage clung but to dream of that love is slight a thing that I deem truth than prose, unless thou taught in gallant institutes, and there other gaz’d, but heavily por’d on its own existence beat for ever and the matting: then there is discordant melody spilling from his green thing wants to be loved, that I knew you at once. Give way. The Russians now were red Vesuvius loaded, besides of plundering heap of bodies, felt his heel seized fast, as if upon parade.

Those eyes, and wished her flat hand again, where they lie t is said our kill’d, already dead. A moderate pensions from a falcon- eye? How then?—A merry din—I rush’d together, grew for so they say, is that which stick in his grasp: her hair smells of their amiable existence beat for ever, wha for this at last, my Silvia, let’s no longer stay; true love the whole; its range being high as heaven’s airy dome was offering up a hecatomb of vows, when they behold Apollo! A single sorrows of the dove, but I an eagle clang an eagle clang an eagle to thee.

Not my cue for any time to ease this great bulletins of Bonaparte! A junction of your world exactly follows what he said, these black-eyed virgins as before a common lose their young; or does he measure such a meek surrender to what remote and spher e d course to haunt they interchange, in such a golden morrow beam’d upward from this mortality, some sullen conquering: to him who lives beyond the rules of prejudice, disyoke their continence was such they shall see us friends ouerpasse, vnseene, vnheard, while we stood before him thence: the third But three to thy tongue the lie!

The troops, already got, deere kill’d all thy passions cramp’d no longer time; the provinces, and fight like field-flowers: a languid humour stole among the least of force, whose clouted legge her hurt dog at my feet there, here will you require. ’Mine’s Johnson too, who came as if just dropp’d down from Heaven a blessing thousand handsome coxcombs bloody. And I that practice better than grass his feet beneath each lightly prey, and Rousseau points of mortar, blossom in the vena cava. Or are there on Bromion said: Juan, we’ve no time to behold Apollo! In the morn arises a bright peona kiss’d, and could buy, that I would fain his sight? The Lady Psyche whom she drag thee down. He did not combat with a singing to young tree with passions cramp’d no longer trouble dry. Know inside my daughter’s pink corduroys and ease? A second I felt sprung. Tis strangers to each other? Of dreaming.

With Ismail’s storm to soften it the moon. Hangs silent; but prepared fascines, and thou art true, like those. Of such heauen-stuffe to cloud, so I ascended. The smallest chick pushed from an urn, still frets, though if I knew a man whose loss was printed Grove, although the weird vision went: methinks these you see, and trembling, an upturned nest beneath his vaulted palm a whisper of the mart for there were curious wreath. Of individual withers, and dirks, and I was not in the end, except Don Juan walk’d o’er her little minute; but in the present sorrow cloy’d. Of wolves, will thy image pure?

Well—’t is well that immortality, and upon what of the last empty fifth of booze, the rusty nails and children in thy cheek; he can even bet which breathe and loving looks, ’tis she, his very night will be found; deeper and daughter.—And all the world. The way a man joins a woman and yet her will come when you betraying me, I do betrays her blood and woman ever yet invent? The sleek and for to die here: after that, in the hunger for obliterated and emerald, shone their martial fife; and in this march on through heartache or lazily fondled the attack?

Men, my brother kind of cunning. A wounded fawn came flying on the things to understanding in his ample lungs, the genial giant, Arac, rolled on that I stood before his goddess, staring-owl, As boys that shiver in religious caves beneath whose rooty shade he had not scamper’d, only to see them in statlier glorie shine, ennobling new-found tropes with pity, break us with pity, break her: strongly groomed and subsided, for one moment of joy, or the mighty noises; while my pretty one, sleep. And the Rosebud of its own strengthen’d, thou, fairest dame, shalt be, art, alone.

And make thine oath to love or to Time’s hate, weeds among them rose at last fall sick of imitating breast, even from my window the fiesta of sunshine as before Jove newly born, were through open doors of Ida stationary voice she talked down with the Peacocks trayne, and from thee so far from head to heel. Sublime; the profane communion table where wine is spilled on promiscuous lips we might they like slang. Had slanted hail-storm, down he dropt towards heaven’s high-prompting: not that mild beam blot the bat, the owl, the glowing him, for God’s sake, just to rally those winged steeds, with weakness!

’—Here he turn’d and I spoke: why, Sirs, they movèd alike? Against the scimitar, and some unlook’d for change be spirit shared the city wall; but fainter were the effect, for I do but tend upon the sludge: ’ for I was drenched with pied flowers with clay. For ever there to wander from thence the wrathful king had said, king of night along the thistle though a general council, two besides enjoyings of self-denial? Chattering stony names of shales and her side, I sat a weepings all things—for I will pull the flowers with shades of gold, and opens but to pleasure and the suspense of bedding.

But, you know by now there was not slay me, nor your chest, I want to glide in on, give you always. So that of multitude,—and silvery and bare shew cold through their swift flight, from various grenadiers, whose every bough and swearing the Earthly; and, once come ye? Then Lady Psyche too; he cleft me with the rift of different far that Pat’s language; and the Soul. Accept your prudence, dearest Lady, pray you fear me not’ replied Melissa; no—I would pay. Shout of Allah! At her head of rose petals or crystal rill to trace love’s sole effect: the match was lit too soon, yet, we’ll go no more!

Ready to attack: but I’m too great a patriot nation, which made some nine or ten paces were blue, autumn, yes, winter sleep and puts out grass and feels, and that outrageous appetite for lies which inward grace for everything wind, or hawk, or bride gives her harsh can prove unto that of doctrines the mother’s breast. By which he kept. And I the happy as ye: and mutual ordering matters incorrect; three fireships lost the use of both. Division smoulder their souls encumbered consolation and the moon be still they resist it so. Does he who answer, dying, dying.

Entering, the lacquer of her folly. Ladies’ eyes, and fight like fiends for pay or politics of morning doves that let that pass: I think I hear you ask the class, What faculties, when the morning dew. Grew to Being Her I gaze on me. However think? With wine and harlotry made great; so that you know them untir’d. Discouraged, Sir; but since, my number of Chasseurs, all the grand discovered … but invent? Talk back to thy rest again. I spoke of war, the Rhodope, that summer-night, flash them all one anatomic. And passions reign—back to With joy gone mad, with all his sorrowing?

And what’s this in one another, is she went in bright shade of feeling: for however, and in what houses of the rose as wreath of my native hell. Ere the beam of the foremost rank, or was at least: there was enter’d: first of fields, and to the Babylon, Tyre, Carthage, Nineveh, all walls men know, a hell come. Hid and straitly curbed she mighty wind arises, roaring seaward, and I go. Heard the hungry dog; or does the shadows of Death’s valley. Barks at the river as it narrowed to the same blow which levels to an ass each man has a son and sees him err: nor should I torment.

Love, nor selfish uncle’s ward. In one, that, brauely maskt, their foreheads shade with gazing; and the dancing mood, and so wight, from bough to make a lasting troth. At those morning’s eye, her air like nature’s or on human form, the Prince, I would have, great George weighs twenty summers to such a Solitude, to build him castle walls Our land so they are the ladies,—who by no means boded to gentle Carian turn’d, to mark if her dark eyes had yet discern’d this beauty through green nooks empty of all the virgin joys of life is mixed: the mocking Past will stay: and in slumber, lapt in universal law.

Say, they from her grand imaginations saved, and ways be foul, then nightly shaken, ran itself through they for Mahomet or Mufti, unless t is fit to praise the earth can have but your bowers desolation with turbans, scimitars, and worse, alike prolific of melancholy music, music play’st, upon the ripe grape is sour: yet I would have they outspread their Gallic names upon me. In thy Greek gazettes; but this epitaph above my bones; here lies a den, beyond the sweeping the more. Upon their two selves, one whole month, will pry into the breath in his ways are odd.

The strange that he himself to think that at my very birth I lisp’d thy blooming titles inwardly it festreth sore, ne wote I, how to cease it. ’Er Longman and his guide. All madly dancing chips, o’er which may be done—I know howl I can’t account for ever there to wander in a flash through there brake on all sides, clamouring etiquette to deal with mutual pardon asked and gnarled hive I’ll bring they dare not the body’s treason; they be, were sun or clime? Of Moldavia’s waste, where frame and hornblende, rag and traps; and he could not aught of another my former heat? And bore it Adam.

A calm sea drifting: and meanwhile they stood, so rapt, we gazing, came a youth shut up from, the lust which glory’s but a spectre of deeds to be admired, wants to say, they from the heart so sore, hey ho! Not that like the Nile’s sun-sodden slime, engender’d monstrous shade with clay. Kind of prophecy dilating on the river’s brim. Dying to embers from thence the wrath I nurse thee in our sweet dewy blossom of blood and wounded! Your very armour hallowed, and which you would fly, but with a thirst to meet oblivion past, to deem the wood’s boldness by the great joys, Civilisation!

And I said, my friend, we trust that our historian here I could na scaith thee remain with lamplike eyes watching us, a single act of immolation, take towns by storm: no causes weighed, fatherly fears—you used us courteous, every step the blue of heaven. ’ A second morn. As she gaed o’er the dialogue; for since I knew her, king, true woman: and in what rivers swim the sorrows, the stars are flowing. For which Lieutenant- Colonel Yesouskoi march’d with the slow move of the sweet sister: lie not thy show! Know whether they escaped, ’ was their weight, the assault. Wound, with a dearness not his life was lamed, for they who print them from the despot’s desolating, plunder, and none to Chide! Threading a Gazette—which doubtless fairly dealt by the decease she brought her: to cast light enough to blind the tombs there’s the one I carried. To turn that earst seemd but to increases!

Why, I have been aware this kind of life from charitable voice? I won you mother, a good wife. And this young folks with me! Kisses them toward the centuries ago- a sword blow, the painting I fell in with me remain without shadows of his young man’s fancy lighter with the final berries in his turn slain by some unworthy proved—would to God—for I had loved thee long. You come to his lady smiles; her soul two souls can make? I, having diminished them, smiling; merry Hebe laughs and tears must be a wave you been marriage night: her brows, and all around these fields, and their eyes did start.

Your arm, and I linger on this bright Marigold of Leutha’s vale: art thou ask’d whither thou art divine, fair Lesley, thy subject: a brave Tartars. Was a fault, the current among the painting I fell in with large dark blue wings wherewith I clothed our kill’d, already familiar, could be only in my hair, and joined us. Eyes had yet discern’d this dialogue; for since I her did seem,—the bearing upon the high talents of the mind: musician, painter, sculptor, critic, more: and every voices sweet warbling the Christian Empress Dian, for a hunting spear; to Vesper, for them.

And tantalizes long; all ages, though his name, than Ajax or Achilles, sounds less harmonious, underneath the pale new moon sad Zephyr droops the close for whom I would have cause no doubt if they had charms, I found April in my arms. From bough to win, to them think is necessary, may likewise grew, like mine, as also have a naturally thought, and Come’ he whispered to meet us many a shriek rings of gold; or with shades of grass that in the vine-wreath crown! Out for games, the rainbows of the grange, nor bussed the man in all the wonders I shall speak: let me have music was playing?

Often fretful realm in grief. But he would gladly die? And, for my part, I pretend to guess; but doubtless to suit the margin, blackening over Locksley Hall, with rapture on thee. Yet to my brush came closer? Or like a star, her maidens’ hair, and say his limp and rest, but on they were better faith derides, these black-eyed virgins make things could not speak, and left sucked from head to feet were moveless, looking for the peroration commanded, and they slept—they drank its Fountains wave shadow of a name that fills three to three? Fiercely like a vineyard, as are the wintry rage of a harsh to yours.

She kissed it and day by day, until of the old king, but vainlier than your scatter’d by the river, the axil, the Y, goodbye to bloom in the dread of laying they meant well; tis pity that such existed? Used to love her, but ah! And so none shalt come to me, and latter days had risen on barren souls. He knows too, and she will pass me by in aftertime, and languishing in darke abstracted guise seeme most alone in northern front, and leaves your arm, and I linger here with their habitations and they enclos’d me in its mid-day gold and glimmering. Then pride might climb the breast!

Pardon, I am secure; I sing them find out shames and songs? Flowers felt. Dear Endymion’s sleep upon they rode upon this dubious sight along the first and last. Thou, Carian lower than a mile from the merchant? And of the margin of a nuptial chime; soft words, of love: there’s the fairer chance: i like her I sometimes nods the rugged forehead, then, a moment so that shortly he had been bred to be discovered … but invent? So puddled as it is won. And honey and ball. Her fast. There at least he feels the parson claim from right thing to me, trust me, cousin, shallow-hearted!

—Who by no means boded to gentle limbs on trembled in my house, its pillars of the students, all the altar be ’fore which he climb’d to where I stand upon what mountain wind! Why dost borrow the mellay, lord of Langley-dale; his step is first he leaves the life, two plummets dropt for only the swarthy children is gone that you, with only Fame for half we scan a field or by the lily as far as oak from brows as pale as these rhymes, a little sporting fairy, all beneath him sound like I hold her all. Sure I will bury their very memory perish: look, whom she drag thee down.

He said, my friend’s direction, as roll the waters are shining draperies, headed like a jewel set in their bloodshot eyes, and his left ear folds into waste so much less with all his sorrowing? Where the existence, keep merely firing at its will with fair good night: At those cureless and rude, barren shores, the fancy; for indeed these our lately lost their banner. It in our noble sister’s love or hate, it might be that fine relish, that level at my abuses reckon up the glacis. The troops, already part of a trumpet, and can return no more:-yet wast thou a nymph!

Night dropping down they can dive in sadness. Ice. Would I see lawn, and so went forth to victual, had made them down. Darling, and a narrowed to the deep scar of doubt, the constant and so I kept brimming the thicke, might see our own. Wolf and tiger have. To show so much increase our euphony: there shrouded was their floating between her ﬁngers, she tells her plan, but there were pools that do with men. Doubtless to make a mortal summers had she bare; her brother of the court’ she answered I, for this wreathed with wives. Rose up, and sword to squander in chief, in proper glory has my own clean body.

There can live now for aught that may them see, and afterward, if he his lesson against a giant; at last must we condemn? Secure; I sing ere long, and lovelier not thy sweet sister: lie not these were minded so, the time and placing a rumpled than Endymion hear her woes, and geography—having ascendancy, are deaf to reason? But see their beloved you, and behold, before me, till Gazing out of joint: science is love for whose waxing Will Existence, keep merely to alight? So fond, so beauteous battles, are nothing but by time.—What sweet sculpture draped from those that morn the east are circumfused the Lycian custom, spoke of war, the smoulders hidden; tis my mother still affirms your Psyche too; he cleft me through their designs above the day over the orders of the records of narration, which so betrays her blood as an alderman loves man.

Beneath my palm trees, a little. Entering, the sudden and scudding along the appointed fingers; the bridal house, the head. This world, and opens but to a single sorrows? I needs must not learn; they are damn’d; that one short hours be nothing: might have put it in words. At her head against a pillar of electric, chemic laws, and are no sign posts in this day, I think I hear you ask me to make him was the point of noon, the king his bearded Barons heaved and rail, where nature’s rule! To the living lips. And all her race; for I will pull the vesper-carols are. This, and most removed.

Whistle back the parson’s saw, and bids make the boy brings thee rest. And thus the peopled city grieves me to behold the torch out, while things that we still plain and crushing down call me his queen, fair Lesley, the hearth, two in the dark heart of all the spirit-home! And more, and the furse: mercy, pity, and he bears a laden breast, full of clear morning sun I find it, Sir, for me! ’St, upon the then sovereign, watch the fire with that which glory’s but a simple lives. On our mailed heads: but other tremendous teats shoots a look back over heath and threes, till all be said their advance. There one walked astray.

’Er the Muses’ gullets. Young playmates of bad; all that their grim career, like chastest wives from the living hearts, you are how happy he who afterwards accompanied us through your cheek: nor any drooping flowers of two Ifs in one to sound the boy does not glow so much increasing ever. Walked along the least encumbers, amongst them all one anatomic. May weed her out. Miser spreads his gold; or does he surrounded! Air of themselves but the spiritual splendour which attack, when people’s life: three lines of the camp, a charred and wrinkled brow, nor cover’d way was left I came.

One whole of love; it is no matter what poor souls encumbers, among the soldiers, who with insomnia, perfect rows where its stub branches, poor ring-doves sleek forth their timid head. Thy subject of sublime old Erse or Irish, or it may be to-night, that she should bide by this gloom, and by a fire beneath the beauty and inclin’d—again repeated, Inclination to my sire, when summer trees, and eddied into suns, that we read, hear, dream, I dream include thee, I have seemed enormous joys in the first ill-sounding on the evening star came furrowing all my motions with you.

To spread o’er Sir’ and Madam, he the wisest then, in halls of Lebanonian cedar: nor should ever dwell. More evil in an hundred maiden, ae sweet flower, now a nymph! Sweet and low, sweet love, tempest came her tears are flowing: and Dick the shepherd realm shall those gossamer were briskly as those who died for some time, which settles all things: yet my mother makes men hard by the row of stars around it, as of old, the current among men, light coin, the tinsel clink of compliment deserve of Phoebus’ lips, and, ere they were gone: like a Saint’s glory; and if we win, we fail: she would have been aware this kissing her eyes on all my father’s arms, and smote himself beside the war; shall love you, and I would believe thou have named her eye with all she can talk; and this the body’s book, now swear that keep their light forking through the air,—whence will not speak its name. Dear, turns out to their marriage?

Before should be hers, child of their subject of sublime, then The Sage behold the ladies, save some tranquil, anchor’d at its death, and yet she heares and yet not mine eye awake; mine own fair bosom, tho’ my heart away complete, because it’s embedded in every way. A village of Moldavia’s waste, where you shall have vengeance; we might be going; but on they may both be used genteelly.—And I the happy both of you! The night had ne’er been thy meed for many thousand colours gayer than she ought: of all our modern preacher had he sore beset by Christians down on every way.

And bore its fragrant slipt the heavy groan. No—she never thrills from tile to scullery, and such things? Outside of us the village schools for all noble motion: and I begin to be aristocratic as was ever Mahomet pick’d out for intellect, because it knows so much work, scraping from thy breast; and being the appointed hour. She took a bird’s-eye-view of all the current slipping away, wants to say, whistle a little hoard of maxims preaching the dread of laying they shall dive, and, relaxing, waned againe with Lar and Lucumo; ran down those passionate one.

Under the brow of some mischance unto his darling child! To give them blinder motions with a sudden storm of sighs—all the meadow air, till it batters, and the flashing forward to the water as a whale rises and spaces far removed. Those lips shall be our home and paper sat, with nets found under the cattle, follow Bacchus on they rode upon the colour, and the knee; count Chapeau-Bras, too, had lost both ships and eye. For why shouldst, my love is merchant? He turn’d—her bosom strain the bones to and built, in the telling, wherever he may sit upon a cros, our soules for to seke?

At least Here is no little damp, spilling from our heart falls out of time,—sluggish form reposing motionless. Stronger, he that so, some future time, till Gazing out of thee, young angels know are only delight, and heard, and no great deeds for issue, yet may live in sadness of the rose upon a mossy hill, where those eyelash is my lord, not evermore: I cannot fry. Which I should make thine own again, without shadow, but the Muses’ heads were time past, thy holy filletings, near to help me as where shall be said—just as you say, and snared they found the ground; but rested not, nor stirred.

’ And then did woman ever yet invent? And, Prince, and of your great ensign shake from blazoned lions o’er the Border, and a night I came I danced in a female form, the Prince de Ligne, and loth by brainless war to cleave the whole in lovely maid; And in what think of tears; and none to trust since our arms? That in the water-lily cups with all prophets, houris, angels, saints, descries, which all who saw it follow’d? In her purpose like the first Canto promise of my native air—let me but die at home, and of the gift we received no injury more than we. He with his children die; and let the Mortal go. That we must at least: there was a fault, and Admiral Ribas known in Russian people are in everything I’ve read, the coward conquests farther aided them the scented dew long cupped in lilies, that for these very sight of his sister, as they are—and such things?

Unto those that’s fair, ’ said Cyril seeing me more happy than betide as that of despair makes me oft my best friend or foe, though in their baldness up and down at the cool attention to my sire, who growled an answer to his lady meek the Indian mine: give me my honesty again, where there: they sought that wilderness the clock for you: and still in love and my own breast he feels it, and birds sit brooding turn the bones of men: the midst of crimson trace, as the eagles hide thee, pointing to his thorny fruit bush where an occasions will oftentimes make a lasting troth. Himself or bastion, batteries on an isle near Ismail, and yawning O hard task, ’ he cried, O fly, while the fierce demur: and many never known; till like the vulture?-Styled our lords ally your forest wilderness was, and here a little, while the underlids uplift, would almost thing is mortal here?

To bear the wind doth blow, wind of the day. Abyssinia rouse and glory to your pockets? And on their guns were uncertainty is one act at once, this is this? And speak with an eye-guess toward his dear delight, as I have drawn much less with all his sorrowing? A ranger in search of either seemed too soon and quickly before the roofs and such glee? Is over an hour, than thousands, while I doubt not thro’ the thunder cloud. Gama turned the light air on our maids, pitch our pavilion here upon them, ne’ertheless t is for you and I. As if crooning, closer—one day you realize it.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #124 texts #sonnet sequence

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lostmyshadesanon · 3 years

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Happy Birthday Felix 🎂🎁 🎉🎊

@teyvat-writer

🦊 - Anon here!!! It's finally the day. I hope.

I have no idea what time zone you live in so I'm posting this a bit early just in case!

If it's still the 28th when you see this. Don't open it!

Let the anticipation build!

This should be the last part for our poor hydro archon, but I'm sure the most anticipated. Let's hope we can do it justice.

Mindbroken?Hydro!Archon!Male!Reader x FoulLegacy!Childe

Wouldn't it be funny if I put a rickroll here?

Or just an error message, lol.

But anyway moving on.

You feebly twitched as you felt Childe fuck you with his entire fist in your gaping hole. Leisurely opening and closing his hand as he ground his knuckles into your swollen prostate, and commented idly on your puffy rim.

By this point you could barely even feel when another orgasm was ripped from your soiled body, and your cock jerked underneath you.

Childe had been at this for hours. He hadn't been inside you or orgasmed since the first round, but he seemed determined to be able to shove both of his fists in your aching hole regardless of how long it took.

When you had the capacity to think between orgasms you wondered why your guards had not coming looking for you after all this time, and hoped that if the Fatui had restrained them that they hadn't died, but just been incapacitated.

Though you were never able to think long before another orgasm was dragged out of you. Combined with the saccharine sweet voice mockingly praising you. Your head was almost completely empty and body numb to the pleasure you were being put through.

You could only gurgle faintly when Childe finally got his way and stretched you enough that both his balled up fists could fit into your gaping hole. He didn't remain there for long quickly pulling both his hands free, as be grinned in glee at your ruined hole.

"I think you're finally ready, my darling patron!" He crowed, lightly petting your back as if you were a prized pet who had completed a new trick.

Staring at him through dazed and bleary eyes you wondered. "Ready for what? What more could you do to ruin me?"

He must have the ability to read your mind, or long ago you had lost the stoic control you had over your facial expression. Childe bared his fangs in a mean smile. "Though I made sure the preparation was pleasurable you've barely reacted! That's quite unfair considering how many orgasms you've had compared to me.", The demon masquerading as a man pouted. "So to make sure you're still paying attention I've brought this!"

Childe brought out a potion bottle with some unknown blue liquid inside. With a loud pop he uncorked it, tilted your hips high enough up to send sparks of pain through your spine, and promptly shoved it inside you so it could empty unhindered into your defenseless body.

There was only a moment where you felt the strange liquid mix with the remnants of your favored's cum were you debated on the odd sensation reminded you of, before it felt like it ignited inside you, and you screamed.

It was like liquid fire had been poured into you. The disassociation you had been able to reach banished like morning fog, as your nerves lit up like a livewire. You start to moan like a bitch in heat drool leaking from your mouth as the fire spread across your body. Making you feel every pulse of your insides and cock, your hole desperately grasping at the bottle inside it, but it was too small!

What had Childe done to you?! That something the size of a wine bottle would feel too small??? As your body desperately begged for something bigger, something warmer, and the aching need to cum.

That shouldn't be possible. You shouldn't even be able to come at this point considering how many orgasms had been forced upon you?!?! You could only cry out in delight eyes rolling when Childe's hands skimmed over your cock, and tugged teasingly at the bottle in your ass.

"Ah, already begging for more, my dear patron?" Childe stated teasingly. "Dottore did say this was strong but I didn't think it'd be this strong."

Barely leaving you room to breath. Childe ripped the bottle from your grasping insides sending you screaming into orgasm. You were barely aware of your begging as you sobbed at the empty feeling inside you.

"Oh, darling don't worry you'll be full very soon. I have to make sure to claim you in a way that NO ONE will ever be able to satisfy you again. That way both you and the world know you're MINE." Childe whispered the words confidently into the small of your back before dragging sharp canines growing steadily into fangs down to the swell of your ass.

"Prepare yourself!" He cautioned before sneering over your begging form and rolling eyes, "If you still have the capacity too." Before he slid his fangs deep into the small of your back a glowing riptide mark spreading out like ink over your skin as electricity started to coat his own.

Spine arched from the conflicting flashes of pain and pleasure you felt more than saw the transformation happening behind you.

Cool hands grew massive claws as they clutched at your hips drawing hints of blood from where they pressed. The cracking of electricity and bone as you were hoisted off the ground jerkily from your current partner's growth in height and size. The fangs in your back sliding smoothly out and a smooth texture replaced it almost like being pressed up against marble. You could feel fur tickling your back as you twisted to see what kind of horrors awaited you.

He was massive, he was intimidating, he was gorgeous. The feral boy who had struggled to survive in the abyss had not only tamed it but made it part of his strength in this new form. Massive blood red horns sprouted from his mask, and a cape seemingly made of stars and space.

Dragging your eyes down you froze. Childe's cock had already been awe inspiring as a human, but in this form...

It was terrifying. It seemed to emerge from some kind of protective slit. The shape was as inhuman as his current form, and a size to match. He was easily double if not closer to triple your height and his cock fit his current form. Easily the size of one of your thighs if not bigger. You now understood the need for hours of stretching. It was ribbed increasing it's girth though it did not have a bulbous head which made you weary. That implied that whatever Childe had turned into was a creature built for egg laying. You couldn't see any kind of testes but knew he was fertile considering the steady drip of pre cum from the swollen tip. You could also see a slight pouch towards the base of his member which you knew meant he probably had a knot too.

You were horrified when your body shivered in pleasure at the sight and smell of the crime against nature before you. You desperately were trying to convince yourself that the utter wanton lust inside you was based on whatever mysterious liquid Childe had forced you to consume.

A rolling purr vibrated through you from the creature before you as you chocked on your own drool unable to take your eyes off the cock before you, but Childe didn't allow you to stare for much longer.

Raising your body up as if it weighed no more than a toy, and similarly treating you no better than a ragdoll, Childe positioned you over his monstrosity of a cock.

Desperately you were muttering no over and over again as you pawed uselessly at his shoulders trying to climb away as you were lowered closer and closer to the leaking member. You knew you'd never recover from this once you got a taste of what was about to penetrate you you'd never be the same, and only be able to thirst and be filled by this monstrous thing.

A deep chuckle pressed near your ear as Childe bent so that his face was near yours still lowering and positioning you for his cock. "You did say on your honor as an Archon you'd take me. So take me!"

Before sheathing himself inside you in one smooth motion. Your nerves screamed with you. You could feel ever rib as they caressed your swollen insides and invaded your body. You could do nothing but cry and take it, as he used your body like nothing more then a sex toy to masturbate himself with.

Grunts and growls joined your screams and begging as he furiously bounced you on his dick. Whispering praises and croons near your head while your eyes crossed and tongue hung uselessly from your mouth. Though his tip wasn't shaped like a human man's it did its job of digging into your prostate so that pleasure was dragged from your willing body, and your unwilling submission from your mind.

You're going to break! 💙

You're going to brEAK! 💙💙

You'RE GoING To BrEAK! 💙💙💙

You screamed until your voice broke, eyes becoming fully unfocused, as your body spasmed uselessly through orgasm grasping desperately at the welcome intruder making itself home inside you.

Gleeful claws dug deeper into your hips drawing blood when Childe felt you completely relax no longer even a token struggle being put up by his patron. No his love. Now he could just TAKE.

Claws delicately crawled up your torso to carefully grasp and pull at your swollen teats intent on tugging and bruising them until they were swollen enough to be mistaken for small tits and the idea of covering up would be laughable due to sensitivity.

He watches in delight as you could only moan, and get out enough syllables to beg while he drove you far past overstimulation. Your pupils not even attempting to track anything occuring around you.

Though all good things must come to an end and Childe could feel the tightening in his gut and stir in his knot that this round was drawing to a close.

You could only sob and thrash in utter pleasure as Childe continued to stimulate your chest. Nipples bruised and swollen a cherry red easily the size of the tip of a person's thumb, before feeling the man, monster, behind you still with a deep groan.

Your animal hind brain could only gasp in relief thinking this trial of endurance was finally over. But you should stop under estimating your favored he loves to exceed expectations.

You could only twitch weakly, pinned to his crotch, as you were suspended in the air, when you felt his knot start to inflate. Your cock dripped a steady flow of pre cum from Childe's tip being ground against your probably bruised and weeping prostate, as you both waited for his knot to fully inflate.

But the worst had still yet to come. Finally after what felt like minutes and a few micro orgasms you felt Childe move. A twitch in his stomach before a lurch in his cock. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before taking a ragged gasp.

Something solid was moving through the member nestled deep inside you. Stretching you out further to accommodate it. You could only sob as it worked further into you.

Childe dragged a clawed hand up to your cheek lightly caressing you. "You're doing so well pet. You'll make such a good incubator and brood mother. All for my lovely eggs." Childe sneered delighted at your faint moaned denials and twitches. He loved that even now you were attempting to fight him. Pleasure broken as you were.

Childe ground into you lightly tugging at your rim with his knot to hear you gasp and cry before leaning forward as if to hear you better. "What was that my love? I couldn't have heard you denying to be my broodmare after all you promised to take all of me. I'm only making sure you follow through. After all you'll look so pretty full of my eggs."

Childe's hand on your face dragged your chin down to look at your ever filling stomach. During your conversation he had been quick to fill you. You were so bloated at this point you could easily see the faint shape of the eggs inside you.

A ragged gasp left your lips as the next egg pressed sharply against your prostate finally sending you over the edge and into orgasm. You wailed as your eyes rolled grasping desperately at your ever increasing stomach. Unable to come down from orgasm as each egg made a pass over your prostate.

This seemed to delight your captor. Childe's voice deepened in mockery, "You try to keep your pride and make denials that you're not a whore who loves the idea of being fucked and filled constantly and yet you can't stop continuously orgasming on my cock like some desperate slit." Childe wickedly continued micro thrusting to fuck you with his knot as his eggs kept your orgasm from truly ending.

Over time Childe felt his eggs slow to a stop and his knot start to deflate. Carefully he lowered himself and you to the floor as he let his transformation peel away to show his human form keeping his still sizeable cock plugging you full.

Placing you delicately in his lap so you could continue to cockwarm him Childe hummed a jaunty tune. Waving a hand in front of your face his tune picked up in beat at the lack of reaction or recognition in his darlings eyes. He had finally broken you for now. He expected you'd pull yourself together eventually, but it should be long enough he can bundle you away, and sedate your now human form, for the long trip to Sneznaya.

After all his family had been inquiring when he would take a partner, but knew he'd had his eyes only on one. After all one day he'd been King of everything and he needed a capable partner at his side. Placing a kiss on your temple Childe continued humming as he watched his agents enter the room and prepare for their swift getaway.

He grinned your first mistake was truly saving his life and putting him in debt to you. After all he always keeps his promises and pays his debts.

I think that's it. That was hard to figure out how to end. 🤔

Hopefully you liked it Felix! After I did all that hype for this chapter.

Happy birthday again. 🎉🎉😆😆

From 🦊 Anon!

#finally done #minimal editing #i apologize for spelling mistakes or things like that #i was on a roll #hopefully i hit all your kinks felix #i tried to include most of what i saw from your thirsts on your blog

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vaguely-concerned · 4 years

Text

The Mandalorian Chapter 15 rewatch thoughts

- mayfeld does hear when the droid talks to him the first time, you can see him pretending not to like he hopes he’ll just go away haha. I also guess he’s had a lot of time to think, picking apart pieces of the large fascist machine he used to be a part of and going over everything he clearly regrets

- hahaha fennec and boba are in the back intensely keeping watch the entire time they’re on the prison planet. I suppose a good two thirds of this crew is uuuuh extremely wanted by the new republic lol

- the thing din’s voice does at the end when he says “but you still know your imperial clearances and protocols. don’t you.” is beyond fucking words, it sends a chill right through me

1) din fiddling with that panel; I think he’s phenomenally nervous behind the helmet here, that’s the sort of keeping his hands busy he does when he’s anxious and 2) why the hell does boba have this many chairs instead of like space for cargo haha does he throw bounty hunter parties in here or what

- ngl boba correctly guessing at a glance what sort of ore they’re mining and informing everyone in his sardonic deadpan voice is Big Sexy

I love how he and fennec are standing together when they’re both present in these opening scenes too, first at the very back when they’re keeping a lookout:

and then in the foreground while they discuss the scan

it’s a nice subtle way to get across that they already have a dynamic, they’re somewhat used to working together as a unit at this point. (she’s also looking over at him when she asks what they might be mining in there, like she’s mostly asking his opinion instead of opening it to the floor. they’re talking the mission out between them before din enters the conversation)

- the inside of slave 1 when the ship’s moving makes me a little bit motion sick, I really love seeing it but I hope we don’t stay in here too often haha

- aaaw the small weary sigh din gives upon realizing none of his bros can go with mayfeld. I’m sorry about basically your entire life buddy

the awkward way din adjusts the helmet like he’s trying to get used to the way it feels ;______;

- ah the distinct implication that mayfeld is needling din about this because he’s actually feeling super uncomfortable being back in empire gear and he needs to transfer that discomfort over onto someone else so he won’t have to feel through it... very psychologically understandable and such a fucking piece of shit asshole character trait to give in to haha

- din’s level of side eye is so epic you can see it straight through the helmet fhaskjfhd

- neat detail: din’s head turns slightly toward mayfeld when he calls mandalorians a ‘race’. (it’s sort of cool that we as the audience know why that bothers him, but mayfeld probably didn’t even pick up on it). also shows that mayfeld doesn’t actually quite understand what he’s talking about, even when he makes decent points he’s caught up in his own myopic nihilistic point of view. ‘we’re all the same’ ------> ‘everyone’s secretly as shitty as me deep down’. (which also betrays a lot of self loathing, since we see later he does have the capacity to NOT be that shitty when he chooses to. rick famuyiwa manages to get a LOT of really interesting nuanced stuff into this character in two short episodes, that’s super impressive)

the bright sunny look on mayfeld’s face when din finally gives in and takes the bait tho fsajdkfhasj he’s awful but that’s very funny

- rip all these excellent dudes who really only wanted to accomplish the noble goal of ruining the empire’s entire day and didn’t know they were also trying to blow up My Dad Who Does Not Deserve Any Of This, it’s honestly just really sad that there’s no moment to talk that out

well at least they blew up the entire refinery on their way out, I’m sure that’s the way they would have wanted their memories honored lol

- the comedy beat of din running out of ammo for the first time ever and the music briefly cutting out for it is so so good for me

hahahaha din seems to actually take a moment to be a little aghast at that dude who ends up crushed under the treads of the tank thing, he’s just sort of staring for a few seconds too long and that’s how pirate nr 2 takes him by surprise and shatters his shoulder armour

- I feel a bit bad -- two of the ‘pirates’ try to hold on to each other for balance and then din punches them apart and off the tank :( I mean it’s not like he could just let them murderate him either but like. ouch I’m guessing this one might haunt him for a while for several reasons huh

(the sequence is actually this guy, let’s call him pirate 3, swings the spear at din and misses, instead hitting his buddy who’s trying to get to his feet, then looks horrified and grabs for him to make sure he doesn’t fall off, and then... mando’s forehead happens to them haha)

- poor fennec and cara just running up that hill while everything’s on fire, they must be wondering what the FUCK is going on (at least cara knows that things blowing up is a sure sign din djarin is in the middle there somewhere)

- everything about carano in real life aside for one second -- I do like that we get this contrast in build between our main female characters of the episode and the way their costume designs enhance it

- awwww the little gesture din does with his hand after he removes it from mayfeld’s chest after stopping him from leaving, it’s just so... sweet. it’s a little bit appeal, a little bit reassurance, it just lightens/softens the tone of what he says a bit (he has quite a lot of like... not conciliatory mannerisms exactly, but small touches here and there that are there to communicate that he’s not angry/aggressive or trying to be a dick about it even when he’s emphatic. I keep wondering how much that is just him being him and how much is him being practiced at settling other people’s hot tempers)

- this shot is just... genius

it’s din seen entirely from the outside, with nothing of what we’ve learned to recognize as him for almost two seasons now in view -- not even his face, which we have at least a tenuous fledgling attachment to from before. it’s like we get introduced to him almost as if anew again and again in this episode, just like he’s getting introduced to new aspects of himself and what he’s willing to do and having to struggle to find ways to have that fit with who he is. his discomfort and stress is our discomfort and stress. it’s so interesting

- I can’t stop cackling at this moment even in all the tension -- you only get a sliver of din’s profile but you can feel the sheer MURDER radiating off him sdhfasjk

- aaaaaaaagh the way you get a whole different view of din’s habitual impassiveness when you can actually see his face... the way he keeps appealing to mayfeld ‘just don’t make more trouble, just shut up’, the way he goes completely silent and watchful and frozen..... those are all really obvious trauma responses, and it leads you to wonder how often he touches into that even when he’s in his element, when he’s got the full armour on. hmngh my heart

- ‘the believer’ is such a galaxy brain title for this episode, because it could be referring to either of the three men around this table or all of them at once. (and crucially the only person whose beliefs aren’t in a living, breathing state of adapting to the world around them is the empire officer, with his horrific inhuman ideology. mayfeld thinks he believes in nothing, and proves himself explosively wrong by the end of the episode, and it’s redeeming for him in some capacity. din is facing a more internal dilemma of different parts of his (and his culture’s) beliefs/values clashing and having to decide which one’s more important, to his identity and to how to exist in the world as a person (and love for the baby wins out supremely in the end. of course it does Y_____Y). the empire dude only sees the same sterile fascist world at the end of his shit rainbow that he’s clearly always done, even when faced with proof that it’s untenable. (I mean he wouldn’t give a fuck that it’s immoral because he’s y’know evil, but he’s not even fazed by the fact that the empire provably FAILED, and failed so quickly) his belief is a dead and deadening thing to contrast the others. man when this show goes off with the themes it goes OFF haha)

- love the triumphant heroic mando music kicking in as we’re finally getting to pick off imps, love that for us

- din’s protective instincts at work again, he helps mayfeld to his feet and makes sure he’s safely on board before going further in himself ;_______;

- fennec’s professional approval at mayfeld’s shot hahaha. well I guess he was supposed to be a sharpshooter back in the day huh

I do Not think she likes mayfeld even after all that, though, the withering look she sends him on her way past... should have killed him stone dead on the spot

- seeing din back in the armour is like a physical relief, I can breathe again haha

- tfw you catch yourself thinking ‘at least when all this is over we can go back to the razor crest and everything will be normal again’ and then you rEMEMBER 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian meta #honestly I could add a lot more of my boba thirst in this lol (idk din is always Dad not Daddy to me but boba's Doing something for me haha)

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

Text

Murder Is Not On The Schedule (Ron Speirs x Reader)

So this is loosely based on a prompt I found on Pinterest about murder not being on today’s schedule and immediately thought SPEIRS! I also wasn’t feeling great this week so I wanted to write something lighthearted...ya know? So this is what my brain came up with.

Warnings: some swearing, sexual tension (cuz i can’t seem to write Speirs without it...sorry?), my poor attempts at humor

Words:2500

Tag List: @happyveday @sydney-m @saritanotserena

The sound of mortars and 88s followed me as I walked into the room being used for Captain Speirs' office in Haguenau. Those same sounds should be terrifying but no one flinched anymore thanks to Bastogne. The office was in the back of Easy HQ, looking towards the river. All the walls and windows were still intact, even if the place was dreary and drafty, it fulfilled its purpose.

Speirs, who had been staring out the window in parade rest, turned around to lean back against the window and looked over at me. "Lip in bed?"

"Yeah. Finally convinced him that I could handle it." I dropped down onto one of the two chairs. Both chairs were placed at the table which occupied the center of the room.

Lipton was an admirable man, second only to Winters himself. But Christ Almighty, he had to be the worst patient with his perpetual refusal to rest. I did not envy any of the medics who were diligently trying to take care of him. It pretty much took both myself and Luz to drag him to one of the cots in the back and me swearing in blood that if I needed help, I would find him.

And if I threatened him a little, no one needs to know, right?

"Well, I appreciate you stepping up and taking over for Lipton while he is sick."

I shrugged, already looking at all the paperwork spread out on the table. "He kept us together while in Bastogne. It's the least I can do. Besides, I used to be a secretary before joining up. It's not a problem."

"Lucky us." He murmured, distractedly. One of his hands tapped a repetitive pattern on his thigh as he seemed to stare at nothing.

I knew there was to be a patrol tonight. A prisoner snatch. From what little I had overheard and observed, it weighed heavily on both Lipton and Speirs. My guess was all the names had not been chosen yet on who had to go. Glancing at Speirs, eyebrows furrowed just slightly, repetitive tapping, biting just the inside corner of his lip...he was working on the list in his head.

I could not help it as my eyes traced his jawline...his messy hair that looked so damn soft...those dark eyes that pierce your soul but also lit up like a beacon when amused. He looked like a rugged, dirty Greek god with an affinity for bloodlust. Even his hands looked perfect to hold my--

You are here to help. NOT OGLE YOUR CO!

Even if he is pretty.

Handsome?

Gorgeous?

Wet dream worthy?

Whoa! Too much. Pull up, you buffoon!

With all my willpower, I turned back to focus on organizing the reports on the table and checking to make sure we had enough paper. Who knew the army used so much paperwork? Everything had to be documented. I could see why it seemed Winters never left his office...or Nixon. Without Lipton's help, I doubted Speirs would ever see his men. I absent-mindedly wondered if I should offer to help out more often.

Obviously out of the goodness of my heart and not to ogle the handsome devil currently before me.

Nope.

Several minutes later, there was a knock on the door. After Speirs bid them enter, two replacements stepped into the room. Their ODs were clean, helmets practically sparkled in the sunlight, eagerness written all over their faces. They did not carry the weariness from the Ardennes on their shoulders. They still looked like boys wanting to play soldier with the other neighborhood kids. All I could figure was they had gotten dropped off with the other soldiers returning from the hospital.

Both rapidly saluted Speirs, who only lazily saluted in response, still leaning against the window.

"Captain, sir." The shorter of the two spoke first, practically bouncing on his toes. "We were wondering if we'd see some action soon."

The other one chimed in, a proud smile exaggerating his chubby cheeks. "Yeah, we heard a rumor there's a patrol. Sir, we're ready to get our rifles dirty by killing Krauts, sir."

Christ. These two are greener than the Jolly Green Giant.

I quickly muffled a snort by turning it into a cough. It must have not been as subtle as I hoped with the side-eye Speirs gave me.

Speirs sighed, crossing his arms across his chest. "Your platoon leader will let you know. I suggest you head back to your OP… and try not to get hit by mortars or snipers on your way there."

The two glanced at one another, seeming to remember that Nazis were just as likely to kill them. A necessary reminder. After another round of salutes, they hurried out and closed the door behind them.

"Jesus Christ! If I hear those two asking about killing Krauts again, I'll shoot them both…. And murder wasn't on my agenda today."

"Murder usually isn't on anyone's agenda." I murmured, making notes on a supply list. We definitely needed more ammo...and chocolate bars. There might be a mutiny if we did not receive more chocolate bars and cigarettes.

"No, it's on mine. Just not until Thursday."

Wait….

...What?

My head whipped up to stare at Speirs. I honestly was unsure if he was joking or serious. I mean, hell, we all knew the rumors about him. With his signature serious expression, he held my gaze, as if waiting for me to question him. I chose not to. Really, I believed him. He would be the one to throw a grenade near his men to get them to pay attention. Or get bored and sneak into the enemy's camp to steal their rifles or something just to mess with them.

Then I saw the twitch of his lips, forcing back a smile.

At that I laughed, shaking my head. "No offense, sir, but I think we need to find something better for you to do with your time."

"Oh?" He tipped his head slightly, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Like what?"

Me.

Shit. Don't say that aloud.

"Mmm…" I tapped my lip with my finger, pretending to think about it. "Preferably something other than terrorizing your men."

"Ah, but it's fun. You should join me."

I shook my head, not even trying to suppress the indulgent smile on my face. What had my life become? Here I was joking with CAPTAIN SPEIRS about committing murder…. for fun? Later I should question my sanity, but right now, I was more than amused to see him in this new lightheartedness. I had only ever seen him always stoic, poised, ready for anything in war. I found this new side of him only increased his attractiveness.

Damn it.

"What are you doing on Thursday?" He probed, still watching me with a hawk-like gaze.

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. If he was going to joke around, I felt I could return the favor. "Maybe I'm going on a date."

"With who?"

"Whoever can afford me, I guess."

He laughed, widening my own smile. I had never heard him laugh before, and if I could admit it to myself, the world was missing out without that sound. He shoved off the window, to come sit on the corner of the table, one leg dangling off the side, almost touching the chair I sat on. "And what would a date with you consist of?"

I thought back to before the war. Back before I was weighed down by pain and death. What my life had once entailed. "An elegant dinner at the best restaurant around. Pictures or dancing afterwards. I'm not picky. Then after all that, if I had a very good time, I might be tempted to bring him back to my apartment for some late-night drinks and, well, we'd see where it went from there. But don't tell my mother that last part."

"Sounds like you've got it all planned out."

"I'm a lady who knows what she wants."

"Mmm…" He ran a hand over the stubble growing on his jaw. "I need to change my schedule for Thursday now."

This information you are trying to process does not compute. Please try again.

"You taking me out on the date?" I teased back, leaning back slightly in my chair. Mentally, I prepared for him to make a joke about killing whomever was taking me out for the company's sake or something along those lines, since the idea of him having interest in me was preposterous.

In one swift move, he shifted over so his leg was between mine allowing him to lean forward and hover over me. The air between us suddenly felt hot compared to the rest of the room. Those dark eyes scanned me, as if slowly undressing me with both the utmost care but also unbridled passion. "Yes. Though we might have to skip with the elegant dinner. I'll share the better parts of the K rations. We also might need to skip the pictures or dancing. But I am positive I can steal some of Nixon's Vat 69 and we can go straight to the late-night drinks. Of course, I'll be a gentleman and let the lady decide what happens after." He finished with a cocky wink at me.

Holy mother of-

I was not ready for that.

I could only stare at him for a long moment. My body practically throbbed for him with the image he painted in my mind. The way his voice became so smooth and sensual. The peak of his tongue as he quickly licked his lips before speaking. Now he sat there, his leg dangling between mine, keeping me glued to my seat. Subtly, I tried to press my thighs together to alleviate some of the pressure building. Not that it helped with his intense gaze making my heart beat faster and his lazy smile telling me he KNEW the effect he was having on me.

Act cool.

Act cool!

Play it off!

I leaned forward, smirking. "Do you always offer to take your executive officers out on a date? If so, I can see why Lipton likes you so much."

He chuckled, eyes alluring and heated. "No, not all of them. Just the ones that I've been admiring for some time."

Well shit.

Abort.

Abort!

Don't you dare, you've dreamed about this man before. Ride it out, you coward!

I blinked in surprise but before I could respond, he had already made his move. He leaned forward and braced his hands on the arms of my chair, hovering over me. His face now was only inches from mine. I was positive he could hear how fast my heart was beating. My lips parted, trying to encourage breath into my lungs that were struggling to send oxygen to my brain. His eyes drifted down to my lips and lingered there. As if in compliance, my own eyes glanced at his lips, how soft they looked, even slightly chapped still from our time in Bastogne. His hands slid ever so slowly further up the arms of the chair, stopping just next to my elbows. Now I could see the faint lines around his eyes. His hair slipped forward, calling my eyes upward. I struggled to not reach forward and touch it. To see how it felt with my fingers running through it. A soft chuckle had my eyes snapped back to his, as he watched me with an intensity that border-lined frightening and lascivious.

I gulped. "Captain Speirs…"

"No," he just barely ran the tip of his nose over the shell of my ear. His hot breath caressed my skin. My eyes fluttered closed on their own accord; my body unable to handle the pleasurable sensation. He whispered into my ear, voice fully commanding and salacious. "No, you call me Ron when we're alone."

Mission control. We are going down. I repeat we are going down in flames!

My underwear was not prepared for this!

"Ron." I liked the way his name rolled off my lips. If the quiet, sharp inhale from him said anyway, he liked the way it sounded too. Tilting my head just the slightest, I could look up into those dark, smoldering eyes. Our lips though...I could taste his breath on my tongue. I could feel the warmth from his skin radiating onto mine, turning me into a puddle of desire.

Oh God, he smelled like everything that is beautifully masculine. Not the nasty, sweaty teenage boy but the pheromones that make your ovaries take notice and your uterus demands for something to be done with it. How was that possible?

"I'll...um, I'll make sure to add this to your schedule on Thursday." I whispered, almost able to feel his lips ghost over mine as my lips formed each word.

"Excellent."

His hand trailed up my arm, setting fire to my nerves. Gently, he wrapped it around the base of my throat, his thumb rubbing a pattern into my skin. The whole time our eyes remained locked. His pupils dilated, desire coloring them and I wondered if mine looked the same. The small amount of air between us was thick with tension and salacity. My body screamed for me to drag him down and crash our lips together. To see if he tasted as good as he looked. My hands were stuck in my lap though. It felt like we were in a stalemate, unable to move forward, to take that next step.

If something does not happen, I swear I will spontaneously combust!

Then someone knocked on the closed door.

Dear universe. That was NOT what I meant!

With a sigh, he slipped his hand up to rub his thumb along my bottom lip for the briefest of seconds. I swear the regret coursing through my veins, I could see mirrored in his eyes. Ever so slowly he retracted his hand and leaned back, but stayed on the edge of his desk, his leg still between mine.

"Enter." He called out, only turning his heavy gaze from mine when the person stepped through.

First Sergeant Talbert walked in, opening his mouth then hesitated for a second as his eyes seemed to take in but not fully comprehend the scene before him. "Um, sir, there's a couple of replacements asking about a patrol…"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

I laughed at Speirs' pained expression. Quickly, I jumped to my feet and brazenly patted his chest, my hand lingering on the feel under my palm. "I'll take care of it before murder happens."

"That's not till Thursday." He looked at me with a wry grin. His hand subtly reached forward to skim my hip before grabbing the edge of the table.

"Remember, you're busy now. Murder has to wait."

"Fine. Friday it is then."

"If you have the energy after." I winked at him. I only caught a glimpse of the hunger that flooded his eyes before I turned on my heels and headed out the door. The whole way out I could feel his heated gaze on my back, like his fingers were trailing down my spine. I shivered in anticipation for what it would really feel like.

I'll make sure he doesn't have the energy to terrorize Easy… I'm definitely doing this for their sakes… completely self-sacrificing… yep, I won't enjoy this at all.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #ronald speirs #ron speirs #ron speirs x reader #ronald speirs x reader #ww2 #world war 2 #mzwrites

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curly-bangtan · 5 years

Text

Heatwave Drabble #6: lovesick

(sorry i had to insert these gifs. if this isn’t the taehyung you’re imagining for heatwave, you’re unfortunately wrong.)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- read first! :)

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: You fall feverishly ill one morning, and the responsibility of looking after you falls onto Taehyung’s lap. Of course, there wouldn’t be a problem with that at all if the both of you weren’t so confused about your feelings for each other.

Genre: drabble, fluff, crack, little angst, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: tsundere!y/n being bratty as usual, boyfriend but not ur boyfriend!taehyung who all our hearts belong to, “I love you so much” (I feel like that should be a warning lol), maybe confession who knows

Word count: 6.5k

A/N: It’s been over a month holy shit. But VOILA! Enjoy the calm before the storm and try not to bust a lung from all these feelings running wild. (requested by my bb @taexxxiiaa.)

Taehyung should have known something was wrong with you when you didn’t protests against him slipping into your room last night and crawling beneath your covers.

Usually, you would at least act like you don’t want him there, complain about his invasion with that trademark eye roll of yours, before snuggling back to his warmth, ass conveniently wiggling onto his poorly-hidden boner. His hands would quickly find your hips, one of them creeping under your shirt to cup your breast, lips latched onto the cradle of your neck. And before either of you knew it, he would be inches deep inside you, both still dressed because impatience and neediness gave way, and shedding of clothing isn’t necessary during copulation anyway.

But last night, all you did was hum a pleasant sigh at his arrival, eyes not even opening as you pull his arm tighter around your waist. Taehyung fell asleep beside you within minutes.

You have been feeling slightly under the weather lately, sniffly nose and funky throat. Most do in the harsh winds of January where winter has still yet to defrost into the floral bloom of spring. But when Taehyung had so much as mentioned the possibility of you maybe having a wee bit of a cold, you had been passionately adamant that you - you - are not one of those commonfolk who catches colds from a slight breeze.

“Do I look like a peasant to you?” You had scoffed in utter dismay at his proposition. The audacity! “I don’t get sick this easily, certainly not before you do. My immune system is superior and that’s a fact.”

However, you are soon to be haunted by your own words because what is a fact is that you are currently shivering in bed beside Taehyung despite your immense radiation of heat, skin scalding to touch, groggy even after ample hours of sleep.

Taehyung is a lazy riser, but your state has spurred his eyes to fly open, springing upright and instantly wide awake. The sheets around you are absolutely drenched in your sweat. As you’re still in the foetal position you had fallen asleep in, he carefully turns you on your back, you hardly rousing from such commotion that would usually wake you up. You would look rather peaceful in your slumber if it weren’t for the perspiration coated all over, damp hair matted to your face, and brows occasionally drawing almost as if in pain. When he places his palm against your forehead, he curses. “Fucking shit.”

You have a fever. That’s just grand, isn’t it? You should have listened when he told you to wear more layers but no, apparently fashion matters so much more than your own health. Superior immune system his ass.

“Hey…” Taehyung nudges your shoulders gently. No response, still shivering in your sleep. “Y/N, wake up.” He prods a little harder this time but, again, to no avail. This isn’t looking good. You’re not even stirring, and he knows you’re much lighter sleeper than he is. Taking your face in his hand, he shakes your face side to side, your heat almost burning his fingers. “Baby, please…”

Nothing.

Cue the panic unleashing in his head.

You have a fucking fever, and you’re unconscious, and you’re shivering like you’re hypothermic, and your forehead feels like a fucking kettle. What the hell is Taehyung supposed to do? He doesn’t know. Of course he doesn’t fucking know. You’ve always been the one to look after him. What does he do now? Should he call the police? Wait no, the ambulance. Yes! The ambulance! This is a medical emergency for sure, it has to be!

He reaches for his phone on the bedside table.

But wait.

As his thumbs hover over his screen, he realises that he doesn’t know the number for the ambulance. Is it just the same number as the police? Holy fuck, what does he do? Why is he so incompetent, what the fuck?

“Taehug…” At the sound of your voice, soft and nasal from your blocked nose, he spins around to you, heart leaping out his chest in relief. With one eye barely open, you’ve lifted your head as much as you can, clammy hand reaching for his jumper to tug him to you.

“Oh my god, are you okay? What the fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” Wasting not a second, he dives back to your side, fingers interlocking yours in a motion that’s like second nature to him. Jeez, you’re sweaty. “How are you feeling?”

The pale absence of tint in your lips speaks for itself. Your eyes are still not fully open, or more like they can’t be. You regard Taehyung with a slightly confused expression. “Burning. My head is killing me.” It’s barely even a whisper. Taehyung’s heart aches. It aches more knowing just how much pain you must be in to forget your pride and admit your vulnerability out loud. You never do that. Not even that time you fell over on the ice-skating rink and broke your wrist, yet insisted it had hurt no more than a bruise, even though Taehyung had seen how much you were wincing when you thought he wasn’t looking.

“Ah, okay, fuck. I don’t know what to do, Y/N. What do you need? Water? Ice packs? Ibuprofen? Are you hungry? Do you want some cereal?” Taehyung is duly aware of how much he currently resembles a concerned mother fussing over her sick child, but he doesn’t care. He’ll be mother hen if he has to.

“Shh… Too loud, Taehub…” Laboriously lifting your arm as if it weighs two tonnes, you silence him with a finger to his mouth. And he shuts up immediately. He shouldn’t, given the circumstances, but he savours your touch as your finger slides down his bottom lip when your arm drops. “Water, please.”

And like that, Taehyung is sprinting to the kitchen for a cool glass of water for you, ignoring the cold that slaps at his bare feet. He has never looked after a sick person before, this is all very nerve-wracking and stressful for him. He is so fast that he arrives back to you with only half the contents of the glass still contained, the rest spilled during his hurried journey.

Taehyung finds you sat up, looking a little more awake than half a minute ago but no more alive. Your hair is tangled the way it always is in the morning, and your face is puffy the way fluffy pancakes rise - the same way that makes Taehyung want to kiss you all over and tell you how much he likes pancakes and he likes you. But god bless, you’re just sat there, spaced out, staring off at the sloth drawings of your bed sheets, you poor thing.

Something clenches in Taehyung from how you kind of light up when you notice his approach, eyes twinkling and corners of your mouth turning up ever so subtly.

“Here.” He breathes, now especially weary of his volume so not to disrupt you. You jump at the cold that’s pressed on your lips, and take the glass from him as he perches by the bed next to you. Not that there was much to begin with, but you down the water like you do with vodka shots during happy hour. “Better?”

With a great sigh, you shut your eyes and shake your head. “No. I feel like we’re in a furnace, and someone is hammering my head.” There is something very gentle about your voice that Taehyung does not recognise at all. It’s soft, shy even, the completely opposite from the way you normally speak. And from the babyish way your lips are jutted out…

Taehyung doesn’t for a second doubt that the fever is frying your brain. Because your mannerism would never be this mild and soft-spoken in your right mind. You haven’t even sworn once despite the condition you’re in; that’s how he knows with absolute certainty that you’re not yourself.

Just as he is about to suggest taking you to the doctor, you pinch the material of your top and begin peeling it off. It rides up your damp skin to reveal your glistening waist. Higher. Over your ribcage. Higher. The underside swells of your breasts peeking through.

All sensible thought vacates him.

Nowadays, not much can fluster Taehyung anymore, so the attack of heat rushing to his face feels rather foreign, strangely tickling his chest. The female body is a frequent sight for him, especially yours, so this really shouldn’t faze him at all. It’s perhaps the context of this situation, how you are hardly conscious, completely vulnerable and beside yourself.

“Stop.” He catches the material of your rising shirt in your hand. You look at him with a cocked head when you notice his prevention, cheeks red from the fever, confusion worn so genuinely that he chokes. “Fuck- Don’t look at me like that while taking your shirt off. Stop taking your shirt off, even.”

“Look at you like what?” Your voice is soft, its usual cockiness absent. Just pure innocence. It shouldn’t suit you given your typical boisterous character, but it strangely does.

“Lookingatmelikesomeinnocentfuckingkittengoddammit.” He mutters under his breath, staring at the wall to avoid that heart-ruining expression of yours as he tugs your top back down. It takes everything in him not to dwell on those perversions. God, what is wrong with him? This is so completely inappropriate.

“But it’s hot…”

At a moment of weakness, Taehyung takes a glimpse at your face and, lo and behold, immediately gets shot in the heart by your beseeching pout. Not to mention the way you’re whining…

Fuck. Taehyung is going to fucking melt.

“Okay, but don’t take off your shirt just like that. Warn me next time.” He grips onto your shirt as tightly as it takes to ground himself, fist rested on your hip. You’re his friend right now. Nothing more. Stop being a sopping melt.

“Okay, sorry. But can I at least change into new jammies? These are too stuffy.” Disgruntled, you plead, eyes wishfully wide.

Jammies? Jammies? Are you kidding him? Taehyung is this close to banging his head against the wall. Who is this person sitting in front of him right now? Because he has never, never, in his two and a half+ years of knowing you, witnessed you like this. Literally who are you?

“Um, er, okay, so- How about, I’ll let you change into some lighter clothes, then we’ll get you to the doctor. How does that sound?” He tucks your hair neatly behind your ears and pluck on your lobe endearingly.

“What? No, please, no!” You throw your hands up and groan, narrowly missing whacking him on the chin. Now, you’re infamous for your stubbornness against medical care, steadfast to your belief that one’s body is sufficient in recovering itself in most cases. No pain killers, no cough drops, no flu medicine. Taehyung theorises that you like to suffer, gives you a good boost of self esteem knowing that you can endure the pain. He knows what you’re like with your pride and ego.

But now is not the time. “Why not? You’re burning up. Don’t be so headstrong.”

“I don’t want to move.” Sniff.

“I’ll carry you.” That makes you pause.

“Taehyung, no! I don’t wanna go.” Tantrum on the brink of bubbling, as you bang your fists against the mattress and cross your arms, frowning in displeasure at him. Ah, there’s the Y/N he knows. “And you better keep your distance too, or else you’ll catch whatever I have.” Sniff.

“I’ll keep my distance if you let me take you to the doctor.” Two can play this game. Taehyung’s stubbornness isn’t to shabby himself. And though in your past arguments, he has usually always been the one to be lenient and back down, he won’t budge this time.

“Stop being fussy, or I won’t drink any water or take any medicine and-”

“Stop being a brat, or I’ll kiss you right now.”

You shut up right away. It’s hard to suppress the smirk of triumph that overcomes Taehyung. “W-What?” You stammer, visibly shying away from you.

“Did I stutter?” He dares to provoke, before swiftly leaning his face into yours.

“Dude!” Even in your sickly state, your reflexes are quick, hand immediately catching over his mouth before he could kiss you. His face stops, inches away from yours, the only barrier between you being your hand. In such proximity, he can feel the heat melting off you, radiating into his bones. Your eyes, wide and panicked. “Are you crazy? You’re going to get ill too.” Taehyung swears the heavy tint in your cheeks is only partially due to the fever. He smiles against your warm palm, making sure to pucker his lips for emphasis of his intention. You are so fun to fluster.

“Then go to the doctor.” His voice his muffled by your hand.

“You’re so stubborn, god!” Oh, the hypocrisy. “Look. The doctor can’t do anything except give me some medicine to decrease my temperature. But fever is good for the body anyway. It’s optimising the temperature for my immune cells to fight off the bugs. This is gonna pass. Stop worrying.”

Lightly, you shove his face away and slide down the bed until you’re buried neck-deep by the covers, mouth pursed in a tight, irritated pout that Taehyung finds adorable.

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem with me kissing you then, if it’s nothing to worry about.” Taehyung hovers over you, dangerously close, and you quickly cover your own mouth this time. This is a fun game, one that he knows he will win. If there is one thing that can overcome your stubbornness, it’s his own health in jeopardy. And Taehyung doesn’t even feel remotely bad for taking advantage of that.

It’s not that he wants to catch this sickness from you… But if that’s what it takes to threaten you to seek medical help, then he’ll do it a hundred times.

Plus, he misses your lips, okay? It’s a win-win situation for him: either he gets to kiss you, or you let him take you to the doctor. Genius.

For a moment, you just stare back at him, fury brewing in those eyes that are no longer hazy from the fever but ablaze with annoyance and displeasure. But he already knows what your answer will be.

“You’re a bully, Kim Taehyung, you’re a fucking bully. I’m not going to speak to you ever again.”

Taehyung chuckles and hauls you out of bed.

You sulk at the way to the hospital, not uttering a single word to Taehyung as you swore you would. He’s kind of impressed, actually. Anything he asks you, you would reply with a nod, shake, or shrug. He guesses it’s a combination of your anger and genuine fatigue and light-headedness.

When he tries to loop his arm around yours in the Uber, you let him, but look out the window as if he isn’t right beside you. Hmpf, so this is what he gets for looking after you. Fine, he can handle it.

“Are you just going to ignore my presence, baby?” The pet name is intentional, to tease you further and see if you would break your silence to tell him off.

You don’t fall for it.

Instead, you briefly turn to him, give him a daggered look that says I’ll never suck you off again, and turn back around, pretending to find the empty streets wildly interesting.

“Fine, baby girl. Suit yourself.” Taehyung catches the driver’s amused eyes in the rearview mirror. Something along the lines of: women, am I right? He smiles and rests his head on yours for the rest of the ride.

Upon arrival to the hospital, you silently storm out of the car and register at the reception. Taehyung doesn’t quite understand why you’re so mad, and what exactly you have against doctors that appears to be so personal, but he is finding this rather entertaining.

The two of you are ushered to the waiting room by a kind-looking nurse roughly of his mother’s age, the type of kind that makes you want to pour your heart out and entrust her with all your secrets.

Still not a peep from you. Though many sniffs.

“How are you feeling right now?” He asks as he sits himself down on the seat next to you. It could be wishful thinking but your eyes soften when you look at him. You throw him a thumbs down before returning to the form you are intently filling out.

You are startled when Taehyung takes your chin in his long fingers, pulls you slightly closer to him and plants his lips on your fever-heated cheek. “I’ll get you some water then.” He gets up before he can dwell too long on your reaction, the way you are completely frozen, pen nib pressed so hard on the paper that a blodge of ink has oozed out of the ballpoint. If he dwells too long, he thinks his heart might do a funny thing.

As he walks towards the water dispenser in the corner of the room, he passes the nurse again, who smiles knowingly at him as she heads towards where you are sitting, no doubt to check up on you. God, he wants to spill all his feelings to this nurse. She reminds him of his grandmother when he was young.

Taehyung returns with a cup of cool water, this one more full than the one he’d poured for you this morning. He finds you chatting quietly to the nurse, the face mask she had just handed you resting around your chin, oblivious to his approach.

“You are lucky to have such a great boyfriend, young lady. Trust me, he’s a keeper.” The nurse muses at her.

Taehyung fully expects you to scoff or choke on your own spit, stand up and yell at the clueless woman: WHAT THE FUCK, HE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND. EW. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? Because that has totally happened before; people tend to mistaken you two as a couple everywhere you go.

Except... You just blink at the nurse, rather blankly as if trying to comprehend her words. Then you nod.

Just nod.

The paper cup almost slips out of Taehyung’s hand.

“Love, the way he looks at you? Anyone would die to be looked at like that.” The nurse continues.

Taehyung rushes to your side before she can say more.

“Here. Water.” Clearing his throat, he hands you the cup without making any eye contact. He hopes he’s not blushing but the heat rushing to his face says otherwise. When he glances up at the nurse, she is smiling at him as if she knows exactly what is going on in his mind.

“Thanks.” You whisper.

Oh, so you’re back to speaking to him now. Is it because of what she said? When your eyes meet, something clicks. An emotional click that tells him that your annoyance towards him had been a mask for your genuine gratitude. Taehyung’s chest is fuzzy with relief.

Not long later, you are called to the doctor’s room. Taehyung sits waiting for you outside, silently pondering the nurse’s words and your lack of protest.

“Come on, Y/N, what’s the point of going to the doctors if you aren’t going to take the medicine they prescribe you?” Taehyung lets out a rumble of frustration. A bottle of water and a packet of pills clutched in one hand, he is this close to plucking his hair out.

“The point of going to the doctors was to get you not to kiss me and catch the same flu. The doctor said this virus is contagious, and could still be at this stage.” Your voice, nasal from your blocked nose, is stifled further by the face mask. Changed into a t-shirt and shorts so you don’t sweat through your clothes again - yes, the shorts, the heatwave shorts - you cross your arms and roll to the other side of the bed. Taehyung’s hand is itching to spank your ass pink.

“That means I’ll probably get ill anyway in the next few days. We literally kissed yesterday.” He points out, and it might be psychological but his head is beginning to hurt a little. Of course, he wouldn’t dare tell you or else you’d turn this around and be the one fussing over him. “Come here.”

Taehyung locks his fingers around your ankles and drags you back towards him, ignoring your feeble squeak. He gives in and smacks your butt lightly.

“Oi!” You twist around and kick the shackles of his grip off. “You dare hit the sick?! My head is killing me as it is.” Sniff.

“Oh, so you admit that you’re sick? Why don’t you take the medicine then?” Forcing you onto his lap, he wrestles your battling arms and hold them in place behind your body. In any other situation, he would be awfully turned on right now. Something about your brattiness is a kink to him.

With the rest of your face covered by the mask, your eyes are fiercely emanating your obstinate defiance. It should be a scary look, your death glare, but after this long, anything you do in Taehyung’s eyes has been reduced to animated cuteness. He feels like he’s the only one who could go up against you like this without cowering. You’ve stopped struggling against his grip now, rather sulking as you’re perched on his thighs. He doesn’t hesitate that you’re unconsciously pouting behind that mask.

“Because I promise I’m going to feel better. Medicine is for the weak. The doctor said herself that the fever will subside tomorrow! Then what’s the point of administering these extra chemicals into my body if I’m recovering on my own?” You whine.

“To help you recover better!”

“Flu medicine is a scam. You’re too gullible-”

“Do you love or care about me at all?”

You tense at his abrupt question that appears out of the blue. “Well... yeah. You-You’re my best friend. Which is why I don’t want you falling sick too, so just shoo.” You’re squirming, trying to brush off your initial surprise at his question which is all the more accentuating your bashfulness. Taehyung just wants to kiss, god dammit.

“Then don’t you know that it’s killing me to see you in pain like this? To see my best friend burning up with a fever and refusing to let me look after her? Are you seriously that cold-hearted to let me suffer like this if you claim to love and care about me?”

Yes, Taehyung is playing this game. Emotional manipulation? Yes. Probably a little bit of a dick move? Yes. But does he care as long as it does the trick? No.

“Bro, you can’t use this against me. Just let me suffer, I like to suffer, this fever feels fucking fantastic.” When he lets your wrists go, you punch his arm lightly, frowning, though he can see the tiniest spark of amusement in your pupils. Not to mention the rise in your cheeks that indicates your attempt in hiding a smile.

“Shut up and be a good girl, or I’ll kiss you right now.” Hands running up your bare legs, he tugs you closer by the hip before resting his arms around your waist. Though you’re arching away, he sees your cheeks rise even higher.

“Stop trying to kiss me.” You groan overdramatically and try to wriggle away; you would think he’s the one with the illness from how much you’re trying to get away from him. When you proceed to clamp both hands over your masked mouth, Taehyung knows he’d sooner receive the ball of your foot to his temple than be able to feel your lips at this rate.

Okay fine, different approach. “I’ll cut my hair off.”

“What? No-nO. Dude that’s not fair, what the fuck?” Your whole body falls limp in defeat in his arms as you wail. Taehyung can’t help but laugh. “Okay I will take the stupid medicine. Please don’t cut your hair.”

“Okay, good girl.” Humming against your neck, he tries to hide the smug grin of his victory. “On one more condition though.”

“Wow, you’re literally using my love for your hair as blackmail, you dick. Spit it out.” He feels your fingers sink through his long untamed curls, tips massaging his scalp like your lover. Taehyung sometimes feels like you love his hair as if it is a completely separate entity from him, like if you could marry his hair, you would.

“Let me kiss your mouth.” He looks up at you, craned neck and sheepish smile. He knows he’s being unfairly demanding, especially of someone who is ill. But it’s been over 12 hours since you have last kissed. 12 hours. Come on. He’s only human.

“Taehyung, I swear to G-” If your legs weren’t straddled around him, he knows his chest would be met with your foot.

“And I swear to God I’ll get a buzz cut.” Not even bluffing. Every other guy goes through a crisis at some point in their life and gets a god awful buzz cut. Nothing special.

“OH MY GOD- NO. BUZZCUT? NO. Okay, okay, quickly kiss me over the mask, then I’ll take the fucking meds.” The utter horror and mortification that detonates across your face has Taehyung cackling. In the back of his mind, he wonders if you’d still like him with no hair. He’s sometimes afraid that you wouldn’t. But then again, he has vomited on your face before, yet you still like him. So there’s that.

“Wait over the mask?” It just registers with him what you said.

“I’m all gross. You don’t want to kiss me on the lips anyway.” Your gaze falls as you sniffle for probably the thousandth time today, hand reaching to scratch the back of your neck but dropping it right away when you realise that it’s a nervous tick.

Taehyung sighs. “Over the mask is better than no kiss. I’ll take it.”

As his face approaches yours, he is keenly aware that you’re unwilling to meet his eyes. Cute. Soon, your eyes are level with each other, yet you only dare peer at his nose. He boops his nose to yours, breath separated only by the thin material of the mask, waiting for you to lean in.

But when you make no move to initiate it, Taehyung smiles. God, since when did you become so shy. He knows he tends to have this effect on people but since when did he turn you into a blushing, eye-avoiding mess?

He doesn’t expect much when he places his mouth over yours. The gauzy material of the mask grazes his lips, smelling like the overly-sanitised stench of hospital. So he is surprised to find something in him tingle slightly, even despite such physical obstruction of intimacy. The white fabric folds over the curve of your lips to mould with his. He feels a rush of cool from the sharp inhale through your nose.

He pulls away sooner than you want. Your expression is confused by the short duration of the kiss, so not what you expected and is used to.

“I’m sorry, that’s not going to do it for me.” Taehyung rasps. And with that, he pinches the mask down and presses fully onto your lips.

Your heat that greets him sends a surge down his spine. Jeez, you are burning. But he’s pretty sure he is too, from the way he can hear his blood pounding in his ear. You are completely static at first, frozen in place from shock of his boldness. He can wager what exactly is going on in your head. This boy. This boy has some fucking nerve.

And that is correct, he does have some fucking nerve.

But soon, you are kissing him back, probably not out of your own free will but simply from the natural instinct that overrides you when met with his lips. Nowadays, kissing each other feels like sinking into your bed after a long day at college. Comfortable, heart-warming. Kissing other people doesn’t feel half as nice, just like how no bed ever feels like your bed.

Taehyung can sense how much you’ve been longing for this as well from the low gentle vibrations of your throat as you purr. Your entire face is a few degrees hotter than it normally is, and worry is gnawing at the back of his brain almost irrationally. Because he knows that as much as you are bickering with him and acting playful, your head must be hammering. The last time he’d checked, your temperature was still 39˚C.

He has to be the one to pull away again. “You’re burning.” He watches your eyes linger on his glistening lips before glancing up. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine…” You whisper, leaning up to peck his lips several more times. There are moments where Taehyung’s heart completely clenches, like seizes. You say you don’t want to kiss him for his own good, yet here you are savouring his taste like you can’t get enough. Fuck. Taehyung is feeling things.

“Are you sure? Here, take this.” He passes you the bottle of water and packet of medication that were carelessly tossed to the side when he was busy holding you. Without protest, out of fear for the fate of Taehyung’s hair no doubt, you pop a pill out of its foil bubble. “Two pills at once, three times a day.”

“Yes, dad.” You roll your eyes and put them in your mouth, swallowing without so much of a gag.

Taehyung sucks in. “Don’t say the d-word.”

“Wh- I purposely said dad, not daddy.” Flabbergasted by his implication, you scoff and remove yourself from his lap, rolling back under the covers until no more than a burrito with your face peeking out. “I can’t believe you are even thinking about that, nympho.” Sniff again, though you make no effort to put your mask back up.

“Hey, I’ve been so good, I was just warning you! That’s a triggering word for me.” Taehyung joins you under the cool duvet. “You have absolutely zero right to call me a nympho. Do I have to remind you of the time you called me out of my lecture so we could fuck in the toilets in the middle of a school day? Or that time in the library-”

“Shhh. I’m ill, my memory is a little hazy.” You smile, rather wholesomely, at him.

Sometimes, when he looks at you, he can look through the narrow windows of your ego and view the persona that lie within. Just a girl who loves kisses and cuddles and making bad decisions at 3am.

And maybe a girl who loves him.

You fall asleep fairly quickly after the medication. One would have thought that would give Taehyung plenty of time to make use of his day, maybe start an abstract painting or finish his coursework due in a week and a half. But nope.

Taehyung has discovered that he has an extremely irrational fear of you being sick. He simply couldn’t stop himself from going into your room every 15 minutes, making sure that you’re still breathing and placing cold towels on your sweat-beaded forehead to help your temperature drop. You are in deep sleep, shallow breaths, no eye movement. He may have snuck in a few cheek kisses just to check if you’re really asleep, and you were. He still kissed you a bit more anyway.

After a whole evening of restlessness, he finally decides to give up and go to bed. He debates sleeping with you, just for his own peace of mind, but you probably want your own space anyway.

So, after brushing his teeth and changing into his so-called jammies - he will give you shit for that once you feel better - he quietly creeps into your room one last time with a fresh towel. With soundless steps, he perches lightly on the edge of your bed, eyes adjusting to the pitch darkness.

This time, you wince slightly at the cold wetness of the towel, rousing, but not completely conscious.

“Taehyung?” Your voice is incredibly hoarse, barely a croak, so he scrambles for your bottle of water and feeds it to you.

“Hey, it’s me.” He murmurs softly, and resumes wiping your forehead gently.

“Wh… are you do..g here?” Incoherent syllables indicate how you’re mostly still asleep.

“Looking after my baby. I’ll go to bed and leave you to rest soon.”

When your hand abruptly flies up and clamps around his, Taehyung jumps. You’re freezing. “No. Don’t go, please.”

His mind doesn’t know what to respond to first, your sudden cold sweats, or your request for him to stay. His chest squeezes. “I- H- You’re freezing, Y/N.”

“I know, but please stay.” In the dark, Taehyung can only barely make out the shape of your face and see that your eyes are still shut. Maybe you’re dreaming.

Please stay.

“Okay, don’t worry, of course I’ll stay. But just please tell me how you’re feeling?” He climbs in at the other side of the bed and presses his palm on your neck. Your temperature regulation is fucked up by this fever. Seeing you like this makes something in him crack.

“Finenowthatyou’rehere.” You snuggle up to his chest and mumble into his hoodie, already beginning to fall back into heavy slumber.

Chest squeeze, again.

Taehyung feels his own heart pounding. These words of endearment are rare from you; he’s going to hold on to them for as long as he can. He plants a kiss on your forehead. “Of course I’m here. I’m always here.”

He is such a sap, he knows, a hopeless fool. But you’re his missing part, he feels it in his bones. He hopes that he’s yours too.

Then you mutter something inaudible into his chest. The iciness of your touch flails his back as your hands reach beneath his hoodie to hold him tighter. There’s something about the way the scene is set, how you’re delirious from your fever, clinging onto him in complete darkness of your room. Taehyung’s emotions are flooding.

“What was that?”

“I love you so much, Taehyung.”

His brain short-circuits entirely. It just switches off.

Love

You

Much,

Taehyung.

Words that he’d never expected to hear from you, not tonight, not any time in the near future, and certainly not unprovoked like this, utterly at your own accord.

Then his brain turns itself back on again, and is instantly swept away by the chaos that breaks out. “W... What do you mean by that?” He needs to know that he’s interpreting this correctly and rather than hearing what he wants to hear.

“Mmmm...” You groan sleepily. Taehyung shouldn’t take this too seriously right? You’re not even in your right mind. Your head is still buried in him, inhaling his scent like he is your oxygen. “You know what I mean. I just mean I love you a lot more than I love myself.” Sniff. “I love you big and tall and wide. I love you and only you, that’s it.”

I love you a lot more than I love myself. I love you big and tall and wide. I love you and only you, that’s it.

Taehyung feels a sting in his eye, what the fuck.

He isn’t moving. He doesn’t think he can. And so you just lay there in each other’s arms, in complete silence, but also not silence because you had just declared your love for him and all his thoughts are screaming.

What the fuck is ‘I love you big and tall and wide’? He fucking loves you big and tall and wide too.

Okay. Okay. Let’s stay calm.

No. He loves you.

He has loved you for a very long time, and a part of him has always known. It’s you. It’s always you. The way you met. The way you found each other. The way everything fell in place in his life after you. It’s fate. It’s all fate. And it’s all you. Because Taehyung is not a violent person by any means, but he would kill for you, he would do anything for you. It scares him.

And that’s just the funny way that love works. A lot of the times, it is standing right there in front of you, waving its hands and shouting for you attention. And you dismiss it at first because you mistake it for friendship, even though there’s an inkling in you that has considered the possibility that it’s more than that. So you go about your life, day by day with this person who you love but don’t know you love yet, collecting your little moments together into a heart-shaped glass jar without realising it. Until one day you look at the jar and see that it’s completely full.

His heart is full. His heart is full of you.

He doesn’t know what to do or what that means. He isn’t even sure of his own feelings, whether it is a heat of the moment confusion, or a cauldron of bubbling emotions at the brim of spillage.

But no, he is sure.

He knows that he loves you. He knows it.

Because why else would nothing boil his blood more than the sight of you in the arms of someone else? Why else would nothing hurt more than seeing you in pain like this? Why else would nothing bring him more joy than simply sitting next to you, being able to touch you, making you laugh? And why else would it feel like he can spend the rest of forever just looking at you, memorising your details while you play with his hair that you love so much?

He loves you.

It is perhaps the darkness that gives him such courage, because he gathers himself and says, “I love you. So fucking much, I love you, Y/N. I thought I knew what love was before you, I thought I was happy and content with my life. But now, I can’t even remember what I was like without you. Because that guy wasn’t me. I’m not me without you. And I love you. I entirely belong to you. And I love you.

“I love you a lot more than I love myself. I love you big and tall and wide. I love you and only you, that’s it.”

And it’s like a weight has been lifted off his chest. His insides aren’t twisted into knots anymore. Suddenly, he can see with such clarity. In the dark, he only sees you.

He sees you fast asleep against his chest. Arms looped around his waist in a way that makes him never want to leave his bed.

Taehyung takes a deep breath and exhales. Maybe from relief.

You are asleep. You hadn’t heard.

Yes, he is definitely relieved. He doesn’t think he’s ready to face the consequences of his feelings yet if he had really just poured his heart out to you. You probably didn’t mean it that way anyway; he is overthinking.

But the ‘I love you so much, Taehyung.’ The heartfelt passion in your voice could not have been his imagination.

So, with a great sigh, he makes use of the fact that you’re asleep to rehearse it a few more times.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

02/02/19

@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @xblackclover13x @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue @malfeitofeitto @bangtanfancamp @keopitae @out-of-jams @camilaxpolanco @d-noona @haechanspudu @dawnispeaceshe

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hostess-of-horror · 3 years

Text

Phantom X Peach (again)

Me: "Alright, let's get right back into my current project!"

[sees posts of Phantom and Princess Peach]

My Brain:

Me: *defeated sigh* *clicks Create New Post*

Welp, here we are again! Another Phantom X Peach story! I can't help myself, I absolutely adore this ship. 💜

Since the last story was hurt/comfort themed, I figured I'd continue this trope by switching the roles! Both Princess Peach and Phantom have their bad days, and this time it's poor Phantom.😔

For @salamifuposey, @kindpopstar, @strawbunniiee and everyone else who wants to read it!

[Content Includes: Themes of Depression and Anxiety and Suggestive Flirting (no smut!)]

---

It was a slow day at the Mushroom Kingdom. Nothing special was happening. At least there were no surprise kidnappings from Bowser or any other signs of danger. Princess Peach, not wanting to sit around all day, decided to take a walk outside. She ensured the people within her castle that she will be safe and will be only admiring the land. Of course, this was partially true. She will be safe, but not while within her own kingdom. Instead, Peach followed the path that led all the way to Spooky Trails. When she arrived at Phantom's theater, she was greeted by a familiar face.

The red-haired woman at the masquerade. The peasant woman from that very night.

---

Peach: "Hello?"

[The red-haired woman notices Peach, gives her a warm smile, and waves.]

????: "Good afternoon, your highness. I wasn't expecting you to come over. My name is Salome. I didn't get to properly introduce myself to you last time we met."

Peach: "It's nice to meet you, Salome." *bows* "May I ask if Phantom is inside?"

Salome: "Yes, he is. In fact, I'm so glad you came! Our master has become terribly upset all of a sudden."

Peach: "Oh no! What happened to him? Is he alright?"

Salome: "I'm not exactly sure. He has had these moments before, but almost none of us know exactly how to completely help him out. Our master was last seen entering into his boudoir. He didn't say a word to any of us. I don't believe he is physically ill, but it is some sort of sickness. Perhaps you can help him? No, wait - I shouldn't do that to a guest, especially one that's royalty."

Peach: "No. No need to apologize. If Phantom is distressed, then I'll do my best to help him feel better."

Salome: "Ah, you're so kind, Princess. Just like how he describes you."

[Salome invites Peach into the theater, entering down into the underground lair where Phantom and his theater troupe reside. Once again, Peach is inside the large and luxurious hallways of the lair, this time going down to Phantom's Boudoir. The door to this room is just as massive as the Ballroom entrance. Salome knocks.]

Phantom: *from behind the door* "Leave me be!"

Salome: "Master, is there something wrong?"

Phantom: "I'll be fine... I just need some peace and quiet."

[Peach approaches the door and knocks gently.]

Peach: "Phantom? It's me. Salome told me what happened... are you sure you're okay?"

Phantom: "Princess?"

[A moment of silence.]

Phantom: "Salome, if you don't mind, would you kindly let the Princess in? I want to see her in private."

Salome: "Yes, Master."

[Salome pushes the door just slightly, so that Peach can enter the Boudoir. The door closes behind and Peach is inside the room. The Boudoir is just as beautiful as the rest of the lair. Lavish decorations fill the walls, from portraits to curtains to ornamental decals. A multitude of candles light the darkness, all of them leading up to a massive pile of pillows and blankets. There lying in this pile is Phantom, his head placed in between his crossed arms. His cobalt blue coat and red vest are gone. The only thing he’s wearing is his ivory poet blouse, slightly unbuttoned, revealing his shoulder and upper chest. Peach couldn’t help but stare. She has never seen Phantom without his coat and vest before. As she approaches him, Phantom lifts his head to look at his guest, revealing his weary, tear-stained eyes. Peach stops. She recognizes those red eyes from the first night they reunited.]

Phantom: “Ah, my love... Do forgive my appearance. I should have freshened up a bit before you came in.” *softly chuckles*

Peach: “Phantom, what’s wrong?”

[Phantom slowly rises from his position. Peach walks up to him, reaching out for his cheek.]

Peach: “Have you been crying?”

Phantom: *takes a deep breath* “Oh, just a little bit, that’s all...”

[Peach awaits his answer. Phantom looks into her eyes, taking another deep breath.]

Phantom: “... I had another breakdown. I was outside before you came here, to get some fresh air. This place gets stuffy once you’ve spent many days inside. I thought maybe I could venture outside Spooky Trails for inspiration. But instead, I found... memories.”

Peach: “Memories?”

Phantom: “Reminders, more like it. They mock me, even after all this time. They appear in my mind every now and then, but... this time was worse than before.”

Peach: “Tell me about them.”

[Lifting her arms up, inviting Phantom to come into her arms, Peach gives him a pitiful expression. Phantom slowly crawls, wrapping his arms around her and placing his head onto her lap.]

Phantom: “These memories... they remind me of my loneliness. My strangeness. How I was - is - met with rejection by my fellow Rabbids. When I was outside, I found a few Rabbids playing, mindlessly causing havoc as usual. I could do the same, but in the end, I found such activities to be senseless. I find no real purpose doing those things. But, as I was watching them, I could not help but yearn for such a connection. Yes, I have my theater troupe, but...”

[Phantom pauses. He looks up at Peach.]

Phantom: “Oh, I don’t believe I’ve told you about them.”

Peach: “What about them?”

Phantom: “They are not real, exactly. I made them.”

Peach: “Wait... you made these people?”

Phantom: “Yes. Along with making masterpieces, I study magic on the side. Since the... battle years ago, I discovered that I have more powers than I initially thought. I guess it makes sense, considering that I am not only part Rabbid, I am also part Boo.”

Peach: “Hmmm... Boos do have many magical abilities, but it varies from each individual Boo. I learned about them when I was a little girl. I agree, it does make sense.”

Phantom: “Dolores, Stefan, Natasha and Ophelia, Salome... all of them are not real. They’re actually mannequins - puppets controlled by my magic.”

Peach: “So my eyes weren’t deceiving me back then! I was going to ask you after that masquerade performance, but... well...” *blushes*

Phantom: *lifts one eyebrow* “Hehe... but you were overwhelmed?” *caresses her cheek down to her chin* “With passion?”

[Peach’s face becomes even redder. Phantom softly laughs at her bashfulness.]

Phantom: “You are so precious! Ah... I could just kiss you!”

[Suddenly, Peach is pulled into Phantom’s embrace, her lips being locked into his. She melts, sinking deeper into his kiss. Then Phantom rolls over, landing on top of her. He finally stops, taking a moment for both of them to catch their breath.]

Phantom: “My apologizes... I... got carried away.”

Peach: “I see you’re feeling much better.”

Phantom: “I am.”

Peach: “Phantom...” *holding his face close to her* “You are not alone. You may be different, but I would not say you’re ‘strange.’ ‘Unique’ would be a better term. Others may not understand you, but I do. I understand you, even if there’s plenty of things I haven’t learned about you yet, Like your magic. In fact, if they give you a chance, I believe you would be accepted outside Spooky Trails.”

Phantom: “....”

Peach: “What you call ‘strangeness’ is what I call ‘wonderful.’ Amazing... Alluring... Beguiling... Captivating... Enchanting.”

Phantom: “Ah, Princess! Now you’re making me blush! That is supposed to be my job!”

[Peach laughs, a huge smile across her face.]

Peach: “Don’t you know? I hold magic abilities as well! I can make even the most powerful gentlemen fall to their knees.”

Phantom: “Oh?”

Peach: “Yes, and I just did.”

Phantom: “Well, how can I disagree? How can I be so powerful when you make me so weak?”

[They lock themselves into a passionate kiss again.]

#phantom of the bwahpera #phantom #tom phan #Phantom x Peach #Princess Peach #mario rabbids kingdom battle #mario rabbids #Mario +Rabbids kingdom battle #OTP #ship #my writing

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springtimebat · 3 years

Text

The Autumn Meeting (Part 1/4)

Six suns peer down from perching clouds, leaving heavy, gilded dents on the heavens. They watch with amused, greedy eyes, their eyelids soft and rusted. They sit and wait for a hymn to be sung.

The city of tomorrow arrives in the early morning, on a thousand dying legs. The crow is beginning its call as the sun sets in the east, and the queen begins to cross the old town bridge just as the sky turns pitch black. The queen is young and full of life. Her hair is dark and wild. Her eyes are electric green. Naturally, the shadows clamber over each other, desperate to touch her skin. They claw at her footprints, grasp desperately at her diadem. The Queen places a shawl, a piece of midnight, careworn and devoid of stars, around her shoulders. She places galoshes on her feet. They snap against the cobblestones. The shadows attempt to bash her brain in. The queen pulls the shawl tighter around her neck and carries on. She must begin her quest before it's too late, before she misses her window. She pulls apart the ghoulish bonds restraining her and slips into the forest, the heavy frame of her home balancing on stilts behind her.

When the clock strikes the right time, three pilgrims meet deep inside the bowels of the forest to tell stories they stole off of wanderers backs. One is skull and bones, the second is more shark than man, the last is cast in iron and gilded armour, kept together with unsteady bolts and springs. The three are old, dear friends with different destinies that lead them to separate for months on end. Still, now they gather for a night in. They gather for the stories and for listening.

The forest is a protective shield, swarming with thistles, brambles and decaying pieces of junk. Years before, during the days of the dust, a king set up booby traps in the forest, hoping to capture some kind of beast. Now spikes and barbed wire festered among the moss, weary of a world full of colour beyond the tree trunks. The queen notices flashes of silver as she races through the trees; simply shadows against the bruised sunset and the sad oaks. Her feet dance around the puddles and quicksands. She flies through the grass and the rock until she comes across the meeting place from her stories. In a clearing stands a roaring fireplace and three men, huddled together like three fates. One stands up and hurls wood onto the fire, his back muscles tensing. He is a fish-man, with silver scales framing his brow and giant saucers for eyes. He wears the same strange uniform the Queen had seen him wear in an engraving once, all frills and ridiculous trimmings. The second man sits watching the third as they recite a poem. His body is masked by a suit of metal armour. Atop his helmet sits a boar’s head, its eyes closed, bored. The final man shakes their bones and clacks their teeth. He disguises his lack of skins with a cloak, similar to the Queen’s. He is standing by the fire, whistling a strange sonnet:

“-so the little girl set off to win back her foot. But the ogre’s own pair of feet were large and heavy. He was quicker than the little girl and it took her months and months of travelling to catch up-”

“Didn’t her parents worry about her?” Interrupts the fish man from his space at the mantle-piece, “Poor girl out on her lonesome.”

His friend groans and stamps his foot.

“She had no parents Abram. She was all on her lonesome to begin with and that’s how she lost her foot. Haven’t you been listening, you knucklehead?”

“Surely she has friends who would wanna know where she is...right? I mean, surely one of you guys would wanna know about my fins being cut up? Or my scales being punctured-”

“Enough! I have a story to finish Abram. Leave questions ‘till after the workshop.”

Abram lets out a tiny squeak but speaks no more. The skeleton grins in the firelight and begins again:

“The little girl carried on, always searching for her missing foot. She asked everyone she came across and slaughtered the many who tried to take her for their own, with their nets and their traps and their cages. By the time she finally found her foot she was covered in blood and guts and body parts. Still, she had found her foot and that’s what truly matters-”

“Where’d she find it Emil?” Abram asks, his eyes widening.

“I’m getting to that! Now where was I- oh right! The little girl, all alone and bloody in middle of a winter wood, found her foot on the low branch of a great oak much like these-” The skeleton waves his arms at the trees encasing the three storytellers, “The bone was still brand new, like a new pair of shoes elastic new. It had been left there many, many moons before by someone very tall.”

“What did she do then?”

“Well, she grabbed her foot from the oak tree and put it back, snapping it into place so to speak. Then she began the journey back home. As she did she thought to herself, “The ogre must have not needed the foot as much as I did.” The End.” Emil raises his skull to the sky, grinning proudly.

His friends give awkward coughs.

“What happened to the ogre?” Abram asks, frowning, “Surely something interesting happened to him.”

“Unimportant.” Emil growls.

The suit of armour gives a squeak and stretches his wiry arms. Emil rolls his head to the side in annoyance.

“What the girl did once she got home does not matter Gus. Not in the slightest. Don’t you understand what I was trying to get across? What I was trying to convey?”

“Not really.” Abram says, poking at the fire with a stick.

“The moral of the story, of the stanzas, was that quests of revenge, of bloodshed, are simply pointless. The journey is important and needed. All the other benign details are just...unnecessary!”

“It was good ‘till the ending. You just need to rework the ending.”

Emil scoffs, “Amateurs! Both of you! And Francis, Boris and Johnson and…all of the folding folk at the board up in the mountains! I cannot compromise my masterpiece with...amateurs!”

“I enjoyed it.”

The three men turn to see a young girl approaching their campground, her eyes an electric green, her pupils dancing. She has an amused smirk on her face. Her hair is a dangerous dark brown. Abram just stands there, blinking, confused. Emil turns his back on the visitor, muttering some obscenities about damned fairy folk under his musty breath. Gus on the other hand, recognises the queen immediately and falls to the ground in a bow, his chest plate and helmet clinking. The queen’s smirk grows into a grin and she pats the knight on the shoulder.

“I enjoyed the blood and the guts...and the body parts.”

“Yeah you would,” Emil growls, “You and your tasteless, tasteless people.”

Gus gasps and places himself in front of the queen, as if Emil’s words can pierce her skin. Emil simply laughs.

“Look at this old fool! This old, old fool! She doesn't care for you at all my boy! She looks at you as she looks at the bugs swarming around her feet. Learn that Gus! Learn these young girls only want to look at you in amusement and never want to settle down!”

“I want to settle down,” The queen replies, and she strides towards a chair the men have manufactured from fallen Autumn leaves, “I am going to settle down.”

“Ah see! I knew it! I knew you were that queen I’ve heard gossip about!”

“Gossip?” The queen’s eyebrows raise, “Gossip about me?”

“Oh yes. I’ve heard quite a lot of tall tales about you. Stories about you eating babies, stabbing your own knights with their own swords-” At that, Gus swallows and sits back down on the forest floor, shaking, “-stories of you charming snakes and cobras. Stories of you sleeping in their coils.” Emil stares at the queen, goading her to respond. The queen tuts and stretches her short, stubby legs. They were tired from hours of running as their owner searched the dark places. Her skin stretches and shifts in the firelight.

“I only ate one baby. The rest is just nonsense.”

“Hmmm. All the gossip came from your kind so I never took any of it seriously. Seeing you now makes me think it wasn’t so far fetched.”

The queen furrows her brow and rolls her eyes.

“Are you all telling stories?” She asks, focusing on the dirt beneath her leaf throne instead of the man in front of her, “ When I was little I read stories about you telling stories together. In an endless loop.”

The men fall silent. The queen sighs.

“I would like to join you all. For just one night.”

Emil growls. Abram roasts a marshmallow. Gus shivers in an invisible wind. His legs make a strange croaking sound and detach themselves from his waist, stumbling about on the rocky terrain.

“What are you queen of, exactly?” Emil asks.

“All sorts of things really.”

“Like what? What do you do? What are your day-to-day ac-tiv-teees?”

“I look after the lost ones most of the time.”

“The lost ones?”

“Folks made of time and sand. They come to us, my husband and I, full of regrets and sorrows. They lose themselves in our corridors and become our subjects. We transform their troubled minds into something sweet.”

“Sweet for the monarchy, one supposes, but not for everyone else,” murmurs Emil, picking at his cloak,“ I heard you two aren’t married already.”

“We will be soon.”

“Once your quest is complete, I’m guessing.”

“Yes. Once I return.”

“Do you take babies?” Abram asks, sitting cross-legged on the milkwood grass, “I heard you take babies.”

“Sometimes.”

Emil clears his throat, which makes his bones rattle in a very unattractive way. He then nods to Abram, who nods back. He turns to Gus, who by now is just a bunch of scraps flailing about in the mud. Gus’ head, however, has enough time to tilt his head back in agreement.

“Very well. You may join the club for a night. A single solitary night-”

“No baby eating!” Abram shouts from his corner. The Queen tuts and crosses her heart with a wicked finger.

“I promise. No baby eating.” She grins.

“-And you’ll be the last to go. No cuts!” Emil growls.

“Very well.” The Queen sighs and closes her eyes, listening to the whispers in the breeze.

Emil looks to his companions, sitting by the campfire as they always do, and shrugs.

“Now that…compromise has been met I suppose we can continue with the workshop.”

“Finally,” Abram mutters.

And as the four take their places in the storyteller’s guild, the woods begin to shiver with excitement.

The annual Autumn meeting was only beginning.

#creative writing #my story #a devil's palm story #fantasy #monsters #parallel worlds #cryptids #cryptidcore #weirdcore #oddcore #american gothic #surreal #southern gothic #character study #ongoing series #a rough draft #part one of four

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nerdyzombiesonskates · 5 years

Text

Imagine Finding a Way to Save Tony

Side Note: This is long but I wanted to establish your character’s background and develop relationships!

Warning: If you have not seen Endgame, there will be spoilers! Y/N=Your Name, F/N=First Name, L/N=Last Name

Tony Stark x Reader. Platonic!Reader x Dr. Strange, Platonic!Avengers x Reader. The Reader does have an age gap but she’s still over 18!

One last note: This takes place between Dr. Strange, Civil War, and Ragnarok while ending in Endgame.

You traveled with Captain Marvel throughout the galaxy, just before Thanos arrived. Along the way you learned you had a natural ability to magic so as Carol went out and saved the universe from every danger that showed it’s ugly head, you stayed back and learned all that you could from the strange masters.

Healing was one of your abilities. It used a mixture of light magic and water. But this wasn’t just any water; this water came from the most sacred place in the galaxy. A place known as the Sanitatem. Here, the magic users master the arts ranging from minor cuts and scrapes all the way down to severe burns and essentially bringing someone back from the dead.

Your journey separated you from your life long companion as a distress signal radiated among the ship you came to know and love.

“I’ll see you soon, (Y/N). You’re going to do fine.” Carol mumbled with a sad smile. You gave her a firm hug, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.

“It’s just the Masters of the Mystic Arts. I’m already a Sorceress of the Practical Arts, how hard can this be?” You weakly joked. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to stop by Earth; the Ancient One is said to be there. Maybe she can teach me the last of the magical arts.”

Carol hugged you firmly one last time. Once the two of you said your goodbyes, you departed with a silent spell; Ianuae Magicae.

Earth was everything you had imagined it to be. Or at least how you remembered it to be before the Kree Empire took Carol and inadvertently you. Following the distress signal, you met up with Dr. Stephen Strange inside the New York Sanctum. His face grim, his lips in a thin line as if he was chewing on them subconsciously.

“You must be (Y/N) (/L/N), I’ve heard many things about you.”

“Good things I hope.” You mumbled sheepishly.

A smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “Good things, yes. I called you here for a reason, (Y/N). Earth will be needing your services when Thanos comes.”

Your eyebrow quirked up. “Oh? In what way?”

Dr. Strange smirked. “If I told you, it wouldn’t come true.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Ah yes, time mumbo jumbo. Don’t wanna ruin any surprises.”

You paused for a moment, looking over your shoulder to the big city behind the two of you. “I have a feeling I’ll be meeting someone here. Someone...important to me.”

Dr. Strange hummed. “Come, you want to learn the Mystic Arts, correct?”

Your eyes shinned brightly. “Yes. I’ve heard nothing but mysterious things about the Ancient One and her students.”

You chattered excitedly to Dr. Strange as he lead you through the Sanctums and finally to Kamar-Taj. Over the months, you trained along side your newest friend and mentor, Dr. Strange. You weren’t up to his level, nor did you think you would ever be but that didn’t phase you or him. You both knew where one of you were stronger in the Mystic Arts, the other was stronger in the Practical Arts. Eventually you would end up fighting along his side when Dormammu arrived; helping Stephen seal him away and gaining the Infinity Stone.

Although your training was complete, you stayed with Dr. Strange learning more magic than your heart knew how to handle; your daily tasks included helping Strange categorized any and all mythical threats on Earth.

Then one day, you met him. It was an accident, honestly. You were out trying to locate some greek demigods that accidentally destroyed a minor part of a museum last night and had no intentions on meeting anyone when in the state of daydreaming, walked face first into the one and only Tony Stark.

The two of you got along almost immediately. Your emphatic abilities picked up on almost every distressing emotion this poor man has subjected himself to. It was overwhelming to you but still you couldn’t help the blush that formed across your cheeks when he started using some stupid pick up lines and witty conversations.

Your dates were romantic, and over the top just as he was. Every day brought a new adventure between the two of you and arguments were far and few in between. Eventually you were brave enough to tell him the powers you had, and he immediately told you he was Iron Man, and thus was already used to the strange and unusual. You wanted to mention you already knew who he was, considering everyone does but you kept it to yourself.

You found yourself blabbing a lot to Stephen about your new relationship with Tony. You couldn’t contain yourself.

“So you’re in love.” He said almost flatly. He walked around you, looking at maps of the multiverse.

Your head snapped to look at him; eyes wide. A new emotion flooded you. One you weren’t one accustomed to since being with Tony, and Stephen. You were scared.

“...Yeah...I guess you could say that.”

“(Y/N), you know that’s a dangerous game to play in our work. Especially with what the outcome is supposed to be.”

“There has to be a way.” You nearly yelled and stood up quickly from your chair. “I can’t...” You were breathless.

You moved through rows and rows of books; some of them were just as ancient as the building was. Stephen appeared next to you, a look of forlorn on his face. He brought you into a bit of an awkward hug in an attempt to comfort you.

“I can’t lose him, Stephen.” You breathed into his shoulder.

“I told you getting too close would be disastrous for you.” He joked weakly. You shoved his shoulder lightly, pulling away from him.

“I know I can’t change destiny but I have to try.”

Stephen didn’t stop you. You wouldn’t let him even if he tried.

The months flew by. You were getting closer and closer to Tony by each passing day, eventually moving in with him. You met some of the Avengers through your travels. You took a big liking to Wanda, and although Natasha was a bit weary of the age gap between you and Tony, she eventually warmed up to you, as did Clint. Steve seemed nice but he was troubled about something. You wanted to ask him about who this Bucky person was, but seeing the pain in his eyes the ache in his soul, you decided not to. You met Thor when he came barreling into the Sanctum declaring he was looking for his father, Odin. Stephen was more than glad to show him the way.

On a rainy night in the middle of spring, you found yourself slow dancing in the middle of Tony and your’s shared living room that overlooked the Big Apple, the lights were dimmed, the music was soft and slow. Your head was laid on his chest, listening to his heart beat. You were content, but something lingered in the back of your mind. Thanos was coming; you could feel it in your bones. But there was something else that bothered you. Tony seemed nervous.

“What’s wrong, love? You seem nervous.” You whispered softly to him.

“Me? Nervous?” He scoffed softly. “Never.”

You raised your head to look at him. A smile poking through his nervous demeanor.

“You know you can’t lie to me.” You breathed. Raising one of your hands from his lower back, you cupped his face in the palm of your hand. Your finger tips just brushing through the ends of his hair. He leaned into your hand, his much larger hand cupping your smaller ones.

“Y/N, I have something I’ve been meaning to say...for a while now.” He pulled you apart from him. You remained where he left you, as you watch him move to his bar. He took a swig of what you would assume is whiskey then watch him come nervously back to you with one of his hands behind his back.

“Y/N, we’ve been through a lot the last couple of years. Steve doing his thing with Bucky, that thing with Loki and New York, and now finding the Infinity Stones...” Tony sighed deeply, his free hand taking one of yours.

“I have loved you since the moment you walked into me,” He teased, his eyes glimmering with playfulness. You scoffed loudly. “Hey it was fate, okay?”

You went to rip your hand from his, but he tightened the grip around your wrist.

“In all seriousness, Y/N, Marry me.” He blurted out.

You stood there in shock. Your mind reeling with emotions. Then you started crying. Tony seemed taken back.

“A simple no, not today would’ve worked better.” He pulled you close to him, the pain of rejection radiating from his chest.

“N-no,” you bubbled out, “these are tears of joy. Yes, I’ll Marry you Anthony Edward Stark.”

He flinched. “Why did you have to say my full name like that?”

You looked up at him with wide, bloodshot eyes. The both of you started to laugh uncontrollably. His forehead resting upon yours as you resumed dancing in his arms once again. He slipped the very impressive rock on your finger.

“I love you Y/N L/N. Always have, always will.” He whispered to you.

The two of you shared a kiss just as thunder rolled in the night sky.

Finally the time had come. Thanos was upon Earth. You spent many nights worrying if Tony was ever going to come home. It was futile. You trusted Stephen Strange even though he kept the events a secret. You knew his methods, you knew his magic. He did this to protect the timeline. Still, your heart was aching. You lost your best friend, and your lover all with one snap of Thanos’s fingers.

You sat with Natasha in her office, watching her trying not to have a mental break down. The meeting had ended, the remaining Avengers were taking control of any minor problems that had arrived since Thanos wiped off half of humanity. Her emotions were well hidden but the sadness crept into your brain like a drug.

“Y/N! Natasha! You guys may wanna come see this!” Steve shouted over the earpiece. The two of you shared a look, and immediately ran outside. The sight had you on your knees in tears.

Flying down from the sky, was not only Tony’s ship but Carol Danvers herself. She was the first one you hugged, the tears pouring onto your shoulder as she clung to your body.

“I have missed you so much.” You choked.

“I’ve missed you too.” She mumbled as she let go of your shaking form. She brushed the tears from your cheeks, and hinted over her shoulder.

“There’s someone else you may want to see.”

Tony came wobbling down the platform. His weakened frame was supported by Nebula’s taller robotic frame. It didn’t even click in your brain he had no energy, no strength to support you but you ran to him anyway. He tried as hard as he could to keep you from collapsing on him.

“You’re Alive.” You mumbled over, and over again. Tony said nothing. He held you close to him and to both of you that was enough.

Five years would pass by.

Five years of Thanos’s destruction. You and Tony were married now. You had a beautiful house in the middle of the woods far from society. You had a daughter, who may have looked like Tony but shared your affinity for magic. She was talented that much you knew. You couldn’t wait to train her in the Mystic and Practical Arts.

Then the fateful knock came. You saw them arriving just before they came knocking at your door. An argument occurred that night. An argument that you knew would arrive sooner or later. You had hoped for later. Much later.

“They need you, Tony.”

“You need me. Our daughter needs me.” He struggled over his own emotions. The turmoil battled between his wants and his needs. Tony just invented time travel, the opportunity to fix everything had come.

You stood and moved slowly over to him. His pacing was making you anxious. You placed his hands on the his cheeks, and smiled softly at him.

“Stephen put his trust in you that you would fix this mess, and I trust him and you. We’re going to win this, Tony.”

It took a lot of convincing that night but when morning came, the Avengers were loosely back together.

The fight with Thanos was crippling but the odds were stacked against him this time. Steve became a broken bleeding mess, Tony was almost the same way. Natasha was dead, and you...you were clinging on to the last hope you had. Your powers swirled deep within your core.

It was now or never.

Just as you raised your hands to release the ultimate power that swelled within you, portals opened up behind you. Tons of them too. You looked behind you, and smiled the biggest smile you ever had in years. Your friends, the Avengers that once vanished into thin air, were now here along side you and your comrades.

You looked to Stephen. “I found away.” You mouthed. You pointed to the chain around your neck. A single vial hung around the chain and laid on your chest.

“I hope it works out.” Stephen would say to you.

“I know it will.” You countered.

During the battle, Tony found his way to the gloved hand that carried the infinity stones. You fought along side Wanda, and Peter, making sure no enemies would attack your reunited family.

Noticing the end was near, you ran to Tony just as he snapped his fingers. The light was blinding and the force was felt across the multiverse. Thanos and minions vanished into nothing just as humanity did years ago. You caught Tony in your arms just as he crumpled from the burns that etched his body

Peter joined your side, his face etched with worry. “Your going to be okay, Mr. Stark.”

You smiled weakly at Peter. “Everything’s going to be okay, Peter. I promise.”

Stephen placed a firm hand on Peter’s shoulders. The two of them back off a bit allowing you enough space to prop Tony up on the rock behind him. You took the vial from around your neck and clasped it in your hand. You focused your powers to the vial; a light blue light shimmered around it, engulfing your hand.

Tony eyed you a bit wearily. “We’re going home together. All of us.” You told him firmly.

You placed your hand on his cheek, and focused on the burned skin surrounding your fingers. The water flooded through his veins, glowing a warm white light as it healed the torched wounds.

“I’ll need to take you to Sanitatem to fully heal your wounds.” You whispered to him. “But this should heal the worst of them.”

Tony pulled you close to him.

Peter nearly sobbed as he raced to join the now group hug. You gave a watery laugh as the three of you were smooshed into the bear hug.

You helped Tony to his feet as the newly rejoined Avengers return to the current day Earth.

“Lets go home.”

#endgame #avengers imagine #tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #iron man imagine #tony stark #tony stark x you #avengers x reader #peter park x you #stephen strange x reader #endgame imagine #marvel imagine #tony stark one shot #waterbender reader #peter park imagine #wanda maximov

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yukiwrites · 5 years

Text

Many of Their Kind

Thank you for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse! This is such an interesting topic, I got a bit carried away, heehee!

Summary: Seteth and Flayn were summoned to Askr after hearing all about it from Byleth. The older brother, overprotective as ever, would only allow his little sister to remain there once he was absolutely sure it would be safe, though Flayn couldn’t be happier to be able to meet new people, especially those with whom she and Seteth shared an unexpected bond with, the manaketes.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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New Heroes from other worlds arrived practically daily on Askr, especially after the Summoner's Breidablik was magically enhanced during the recent skirmishes.

They amounted to the point that Kiran himself was unable to welcome and indulge them all until they were used to their day-to-day at the Order of Heroes, so the other people in charge also took it upon themselves to help the Heroes accommodate themselves as quickly as possible.

Anna, Sharena and Alfonse shared those duties mostly equally; the Crown Prince had his own royal duties to attend to, so he was more often than not too busy to help. Though since that was expected, Sharena and Anna didn't seem to mind the added task on their shoulders.

That particular morning, it was Anna's turn to walk the new heroes through the castle, though the newly arrived pair seemed to have other ideas in mind.

Seteth and Flayn was how they had presented themselves, though Anna could swear she had seen their picture in the book depicting Fódlan's history under other aliases entirely.

The young woman looked around eagerly, ooh-ing and aaah-ing at every detail. "Look, Brother!" She nudged the tall man, pointing at this or that vase or decoration. "Even the architecture itself differs on its fundamentals! Everything here is so interesting!"

"Indeed." The green-haired man replied curtly, though warmly enough not to dismiss the girl's enthusiasm. "However, try not to attract much attention, Flayn, for we are still unaware of our role here as... 'Heroes'." He said the last word with contempt, though Anna could discern a large amount of worry in his tone, rather than disdain.

"Annnd here we have the, well, let's call it 'Administration Wing', for now. I don't think we ever gave it a name apart from 'Western Wing' now that I think about it." Anna concluded the hurried tour, simply going through the motions of doing so as her brain searched for the piece of information regarding those two that she was forgetting. "You seem to have more than a few questions, so I'll welcome you to my office so we can talk more leisurely."

"That would be ideal, Commander. I thank you." Seteth bobbed his head to the sides in compliance, nudging Flayn along the corridor towards Anna's study.

Once there, the man barely waited for Anna to take her seat behind the desk to ask. "I have heard from Professor Byleth that this world is very peculiar in its deepest roots."

"Yes?" Anna tilted her head in question.

"To speak bluntly, I have heard that a few of whom we've considered enemies in Fódlan are here as allies, instead. Namely, the," he glanced at Flayn with a painful expression, "Death Knight."

The young woman looked down in visible distress, digging her nails on her skirt. "You see, Commander, that man has attacked me on occasion and ever since then I- I have been terrified of him."

"It is as my sister says. How can I trust the integrity of an Order, otherworldly as it may be, that employs villains within their ranks? How do you maintain order within your own organization by having mutual enemies fighting on the same side of the battlefield?"

Anna took one index to her lips, looking up in thought. "That is a valid concern, good people," she said matter-of-factly, somehow seeming to remember something and jumping out of her seat to browser the bookshelf to her left. "However, unfounded. Every Hero summoned by Kiran's -- ah, he's our Summoner, I believe you met him immediately after crossing the portal to our world -- weapon is bound by the Pact of Non-aggression." She picked two or three volumes from the shelves, placing them on her desk as she sat back on her chair.

Flayn and Seteth exchanged curious glances, choosing to remain in silence to allow Anna to continue.

The Commander opened the first volume, its cover decorated in a pale silver. "You see, it's physically impossible for a Hero to harm another one within Askrian grounds. Well, even outside our borders -- as long as they were summoned by Breidablik, they're bound to this. We employ many, ah, unique characters from opposing sides of the same war, so we have heard no small amount of complaints on this matter. Yet, there has never been a case of a fight breaking out since their own bodies are subjugated by the Pact." She looked through a sentence or another, muttering a few ah-s of understanding. "There is also a potent, ancient magic protecting each and every one of you -- as long as you are under our command, you are under no peril of death."

"I would ask you to explain this further, Commander. How can one avoid death just by being in an unfamiliar world?"

Anna looked from the book to the duo, her mind finally clear on her suspicious. "You and your, ah... sister," she took a dignified pause to assert the two of them that she not only was aware of their most guarded secret but that she was willing to keep it so, "as any other Hero summoned to this world, are, let's say, a 'borrowed' power from your original world. We pluck you out of there to fight for us here, but this does not change at all your role nor your history back whence you came. For that to happen, the magic here protects you on an intimate level -- although you can be injured and forced to retreat the battlefield, no wounds you retain will be fatal. After all, your life -- or death -- only concerns your original world."

Seteth took one hand to his chin in thought as Flayn looked down at her own hands, pensive. "Most interesting," the man muttered, his interest piqued. "I would rather avoid sending my sister to battle altogether; she is a healer first and foremost, you see. Since you've just told us that the wounds aren't fatal..."

"Well, having field healers certainly helps with the progression of battle." Anna interrupted, knowing where Seteth wanted to take the conversation to. "But, of course, it'll ultimately depend on you whether you choose to fight for us or not. Kiran's weapon also has the power to server the, ah, 'heroic' bonds binding you to Askr -- meaning he can send you back home with a snap of his fingers, anytime you want."

Narrowing his eyes, the man took a moment to think, then sighed. "I see."

Feeling increasingly antsy, Flayn looked from Seteth to Anna. "Um, you are not planning to have Lord Kiran send me back on my own, are you, Brother? I will have no such thing, I say!"

"Flayn-"

"We are finally in a place where we can be ourselves, under no peril to our lives! And it is such a wonderful place! Have you not heard the curious songs of the birds or the different color of the sky once we crossed over? I simply must explore it all for myself! I am most too weary of being alone for so long, Brother! I beg you to say such thought of returning me alone has not crossed your mind!"

Seteth looked down in visible distress. "I would, dear Flayn, but it'd be a lie. I just worry for you so-"

"Well, worry no more, for our dear Commander Anna cleared all and any doubts you had regarding this world! Has she not?" Flayn got up with a bounce, her curls dancing over her shoulders. "It is time for us to make ourselves acquainted with the askrian ways of life, for as long as we are needed here." She curtsied elegantly to Anna before turning her back to the Commander, heading to the door. "I thank you for your time, Commander, however we must take our leave."

"Flayn!" Seteth scrambled on his feet, barely bowing to Anna before running after his sister. "Do not walk away like this, young lady! What poor manners!" He scolded as they walked through the door, leaving Anna to her books.

"There's still so much to happen with these two," she absent-mindedly caressed the silver book she had just read. "I hope their time here can help them enrich themselves for what's to come."

"Ah, the very air in here feels different in my lungs!" Flayn twirled around herself as she headed towards the garden, lured by the clear atmosphere. "Do you not feel it so, Brother?"

Panting, Seteth sighed loudly. "Flayn, just because this world might be safer than where we came from, it does not mean you can frolic around on your own! I beg you to always be with me whenever you want to take a walk... I fear for you, even if you are protected by this ancient magic of this place's."

Feeling rather bad for running like that, Flayn looked down, sheepish. "Forgive me, Brother. I know all you care about it my safety, but I assure you that I am more than capable of taking care of myself, especially in this unfamiliar world."

"It's precisely because this is an unfamiliar world that I worry even more-"

"Oh!" A surprised gasp came from beside them, right a bit ahead into the garden. "Are you two new Heroes? It's not always that we welcome more dragons into the fray!"

Flayn widened her eyes so much she felt they were bulging out. "D-dragons? W-whyever would you assume that about us, dear stranger?" She tried her best to act meek, stepping just a bit behind Seteth's shoulder.

The owner of the voice, a silver-haired, pointy-eared woman tilted her head in confusion. "Huh? Did I get it wrong? I can clearly feel it..."

Way more used to keeping his poker face, Seteth simply cleared his throat. "I'm afraid we haven't met yet, Lady...?"

"Ah, how boorish of me! I'm Corrin, nice to meet you!" She curtsied with the grace of a noble, despite wearing a strange-looking armor. "I can turn into a dragon, so that's why I assumed you two were the same. Something about your vibes..."

Flayn stared at Corrin's exposed ears, somehow wanting to do the same with her own. It's been so long since she felt the wind without fearing her hair going up! "I am Flayn, dear Corrin. Nice to meet you."

"Seteth. It's my pleasure."

Corrin smiled gleefully. "Can I ask where are you guys from? Ever since coming here, I've found so many shape-shifters from all over! I always thought I was alone in this, but finding other people that share this burden has made it lighter, somehow."

"Burden?" Flayn asked innocently, exchanging glances with Seteth.

"Oh, look at me babble! Sorry about that." She looked down in distress for half a second before shaking her head to do away with any negative thoughts. "I still have much to learn from those manaketes -- ah, that's how some of the other dragon shape-shifters call themselves in their worlds -- so it's no wonder I got you guys mixed up with actual shape-shifters."

"There are more? More people who can turn to beasts- to dragons? In this world and in many others?" Flayn stepped away from Seteth's protection, taking Corrin's hand in unabashed excitement.

"Why, yes! Do you want to meet them? They were going to teach me lots of stuff today just at that gazebo over there, in the middle of the garden."

"Oh, I would dearly love to meet them! They can impart much knowledge, can they not? I am eager to learn more and more!"

"Yes!" Corrin squeezed Flayn's hand, matching her excitement down to her giddy steps. "They as wise as they are old -- some of them are over 3,000 years old!"

"Three thous-" Seteth choked. Could these creatures be the exact same as the ones back in their own world? How did they manage to retain their draconic forms for so long? How fundamentally different were they from the children of the goddess, if there were any changes at all?

Even Seteth was getting excited about it, if he could be honest.

Once they arrived, however, Seteth couldn't help but scowl so deeply he even let out a 'that's it?' under his breath.

The 'ancient beings' waiting for them looked no older than children -- though their ears were immensely longer than Corrin's.

"I'm here, Nowi! Tiki and Fae, too! Good afternoon!" Corrin giggled as she pulled Flayn to the middle of the girls, who all welcomed them with excited bounces and hugs.

"You brought us another dragon friend!!" Nowi jumped in Flayn's arms, digging her face into the taller girl's chest. "This world is THE BEST, did you know? I struggled so much to find dragon friends back in Ylisse, but I just instantly found so many friends the moment I was summoned! IT'S THE BEST!" She giggled happily, twirling Flayn about.

"Well, you met me, though! The not-me, me." A young, green-haired girl -- Tiki -- smiled, also diving into the hug.

"Uh-huh, but that was wayyyy later. I was lonely for a long time, you know! A thousand years!"

Flayn gasped. "So it is true that you are all ancient beings-"

"I'm five!" Fae got on her tiptoes to pull Flayn's skirt. "Five hundred!"

"My, and your youth hasn't changed at all!" Flayn patted the little girl's head, truly already at home amidst these strangers -- they shared something akin to a bond that no one else but themselves had: the blood of immortals and their burdens.

“It warms the heart to see the young ones chatting so happily, doesn’t it?” Bantu said as though he had simply materialized beside Seteth.

“Gah-” The green-haired man flinched. “Since when-”

“Ohoho, I’ve been here the whole time, my lad.” Bantu smiled. “Let us have a seat, shall we? It fits us old men better to simply watch over the younger generation as they bloom on their own, don’t you agree?”

Seteth glanced at Flayn’s genuine smile, one he hadn’t seen in many an age. He allowed himself to smile as well, shaking his head slightly. “You are right. Let us converse over there, friendly stranger. I also have much to ask regarding your- no, our kind.”

#fire emblem heroes #fire emblem three houses #feh #fe 3h #spoilers #seteth #flayn #anna #my writings #yuki's commissions

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libidomechanica · 9 months

Text

“By greates a morning”

A ballad sequence

And the sides of light, it seemed not. By greates a morning. How does the dread our searching; frowns as the fresh spring, see, so short. The long year had been piled sound for from those impending tears as salt, their motives. For many a cut, a

solitary Child, to this face, poised above their valley, come, which bore my pype, and yellow and gather fly from the wintry season: many an open air and something, should demand severely slumberous sky. And weave told the thorowest

thou tread breath found about into that the same, and fainted store of tears? I can’t wears my darling, my dear, it may no more joys upon their stalks set like water-drops, as when of weary load, in the sweet, yet for a Prince Hero, nothing

north that gold ingots like guest— thus doth of music with she turn’d when winter, and then shall forth a bald spotless night the fair Via Lactea. The sun- flowers. Through, instede of bedded reeds are a little ambitious look. I am

nameless butterflies the dewy buds, and loathes? I bade me clear and so the golden springing empires and revision the clamour of regency ghouls. I pluck’d them on my doors: but not still once more transfused to scornful terms, with

with smother, whereat the head cloud of power to mar thine eye that the wood and took himselfe hast already familiarly do I perceive you love only the trouble bow, and said, ’twas that and in the van of all. Through the poor rich

happened into Naiads’ cells? And whither possible stone, which Venus weeps, and are these, a should see feed our idlest friend, the sorrows beside that made her verse-reciter, Care,—I will believe me, Sir, but for a lass wi’ the fires of human

create an aesthete of sacred to simple tale which Venus none lovely tales those silver tincture make an infant joys, or anxious caves, and Breathless fair flowers to tread’st to take the world, and of which love’s cup fillets fall, and the

sings before on him the eye his stable; let us go, through alter’d to sorrow see around she, and the byting for tongue-tied patient level peeps, so drenches and gave myself a weed that rises from his tale was portrayed there? So

should not, though thy birth, we sicker I hold out the more his nearer air: a moment! To let there, wherewith benefits unknown thy mind; those me up; and to flee—I started: Ah! Strange surprised with mingled bit, and listen a whispers

low, hey body could beauteous eye so busy, that clings cryen for my friend for weeks, half sleep, thy brain-flies, leaving popping in Heav’n, atone forehead, smiling Hymen couple that commanding souls, so equal balances in the measured by

the sacred priest eyed the thought, and many quiet widow. But, lovely they mourners bene the ground; whene’er young complainer she space of all, that first shadows dappled o’er the sober well, teaching sun; and Jupiter under of

melody, with the hearts and me, will put on bliss, nor giue dark velvet, or the door weak to hearts away his essence is here that fair a chosen it. And begged of the mouse and eternal joy. It crossing as I could just awake when the

honor decay: for since now at once to pay the had been in the after the rose mellow guineas former might be full oft; and cry’d: and, tumbling walls, the grass, a wailful gnat, a bee bustling to emulated phrases so solemn

hour; no, even they supposing darkness of bliss, with hunger forget the earth. A tocher; to sue her wide lawn, upon the golden hair? All of slave of the petal of the youth abstain, made his left her none, that keeps lead his wife, his

snaky rod did charm a fusion too, upon the earliest bubble blowes through he be fully on his broke his arm, and with eyes back against the cause. If it seemed streets, and now I will allow by heavy tufts of Feare doth Love with

his said, a children of great key to gold fiction every maiden’s sight, ’ said Margaret standing whom long eye looked down the violent. To thee. A husband naked comeliness. From place, but in singlings all naked to be read. The wish’d, mid

the rich thou tread’st witnesse well. She was broke him. Come thrice have your own vallies,—ere they rightly call vespers his owlet pinion, pays. Except thy smoky fires of nature laies, though the mountain go, up to the parently bruit, which sighs but

rains image of their game of thy restlessness only due to the dam, to her goe. Till the burnt looked so love at all the motion of heaven! His nostrils wide. Thou cannot As if to home and hether sighs. Their memorial hall.

To the shadow flits and catch: of his oaten pype, albeit he were sped a trooping the ways. Their future. There thy soft snowy limb did, as he his proue of grass sprang up his

dewelap as lythe, as tis decreed its stings, so weaker now, would have waited for many manifest into the strooken, bleat. The green, ready to come, where is yellow swiftly

blind again. A sort their dead, half sight within the wet scent of Plumeria, and of my shame, burn or no? In the way in leaves, of the eyes attempt to keep off my still, and

that, any more, and forest peasantly to dote upon the advance a steadfast friendship’s hands we our searching: yet hath so subtle cannot swim. Yet, as she steer my light; nor

wise; that on Julia, though flower in peace, when I was full nie, thinken to virtue friend who sate together looke, and, as a wild woods where you sit, the chance to sleep; whene’er touch

of hands. Things of the high perfume desire! So sprong here; for the flowre of the blue day-light’s holy! Bone dry as summer and curse the called him quail, or his stile. Are banquet

royally; and wonders surrenders by his souls did imprison’d pride, too ripe, let him, who in a dreaming into something away the place. To all be lost, lost but of her sway,

forgetfulness, nor to assuage compile sheepe on the blasts do reioyse, that for teares, that in aspire: hindering resting- place. The barbarous Thracian soldier’s rapture did they,

so weak they were nouells of life in wet or faithful as we are. Thou that she had been with sad and runs not admire, whase only what can stands and stirr’d in happiness is mynd? My

darling, for months will let thy birth, we sickens when first great city forest brake, rich wine, in proceed. And pleasure o’ the lambs bleat. A boar-spear keen. It seem’d to decayed, dived down

from thence is roll’d into a fly. With what the fire, and kept a soldiers stores of lust, and greets that cruell. In the chambers, bloods mingled them with shown; and the meadow, and loth, ’tis long

frowne. To-morrow, are wanton heaps of gold in its ordinariness, as if to flight? Who with dayly endure: and bade them on, nor selfish blocke? Though I have been their comfortable

fill’d with his waves were wondered swelling of Michelangelo. A chamber: the sweet of books; such folly, as made of heart leaps of moss, that my eye was braw, and tears because

I brought o’ Mary Morison. The women come away, without, faithless thought car, easily rolling lines empaled, much lesse, or can I achieve no higher that there.

As the cave is; it is a pale drug of shame and sparrow with your sameness infant’s grave, no one to slope, and she blushed

along, but lapp’d and me. As equally the very heat, like Ganymede, and, every things that will do to swelling.

Shut her neck hung chief intent to lead in a break the other dress my uncertain spots determined about then? Seals

of burning field, and six feet two, break through the footmen did: her Arethusian streams the manner of the mounting that

hearts are holding shepherds of continence, and such-like a steadfast rock of wealth, had I been worth to live patterns, how

others budded limbs from the bottom, who keep the forest yet. Four, went shoutings bring her pallid cheeks, I breathe away

art thou mas-kedst late. I am no praises: nothing here on thine. And unnamed light, beauty may reflects the Southerne

she the heart had gone that same sad questioning to my heau’nly beames did that so sweet favourite bower, while and

there holding the marks wherein those in the beames, and a hazard more: the flower leave the joy and when the imagined

creatures bene forswatt I am still I but venture! Sober west, and life given those too, with gossip, scandal,

an image of things are one; sweet sings. They crossing shewed face; and this blessed time to be known threw, and drove fair, ay

me so wooden bosom fire, and the who sate together dies. Sweet shadow of the lose the sea, playing on it; o

let occasion; as time that I shall may heat. And once more sublime that seem’d to weep, and ocean meet, and things which man

at her head, it is altogether dress, staid feet dispers, glooms, the lover. That were out a whisperse the inhuman

dear-purchaser suspension to heed, i’d bubblings do breathe hillocks small; until my heare no more, our soon dear under

the cracknelles, and legs are exhausted like a hard- set smile, ’ said Margaret tears, which taught disarayde: the end. Is

not in phrases so he chewed his peculiar mystic grace to leaden looked elipses gainst the bottoms of the smoke.

Strive to a hemline. Rose-cheeke, to her way: that thou thy sommer the self instant she, that hand, alas, thou shalt thou, O

cruel break from the gorge. To fret at they missed him castle and oft looks o’er our stave. And we were thy nail in my hand that

move; for once made, if you with these love. And night, and to do or how to and meticulous; full point of her eyes more

rudely fleeting vision I did not you an one. At last, by hand gave a mutual risk some found a rush on every

heart, who mighty ever be his cheer, which deeme, that satisfies my tears this busy in that can scarce be my lov’d

before we have golden hook, that drinks waters that flower by trades thee any one to consumed. His death dead worn them

wild words me to any other void since it ruinous base. Along this crooked, and such a dainty rind, shoulders

a novels, most delight quivering the city’s din; now where the wood and gay, scorch not, the thy fair wrought; and Master

to the mounting brere, where with a stone-wall; and often crost witness his burn, for a heavy heart to cling strings, her void

since dawn, behold to Venus’ glass. That tasted. Clothes and tuned gold; and, beat quite dazed by angry that she did both and drooping,

vseth. Awake to have to have been me, alack and see this body in her husband is this fair, or if it seemed

very deadliness, as they shed angel to me a very maid whose senses in one by sorrow for them would pulled

him up an ugly hills. Hearts could stoop through certain up some say that the measures of him remains wave shadows lay in

meaning over though not therewith silvery plumes are of loue. As love at all thy proud, that after lifting in

the flying cloys and pains of our own way, I have we profan’d by an untoward our faithlessness: for itself careless

albeit he was almost do show, that Colins Embleme. With Venus in milk and it will with the union of

life, or that abiding world been. Who gather only what a tree of Theotormon sit with my care it cheering here

in the suddenly, she shadows runnels with rayne? All sudden leaves the brake. Thy main, ah, where she lookes downe dyd lye.

Than nymphs pursuits that it might blesse and trees, made many tears we’re bracelet on your most vsen Ambition, to occupy

me what is not than man, I scorn for willing on his shore, you looked out all that I have embrace; while sheer wit was

artificial floweth Helicon the uplands feeble, faint far and for you love at the water- smoke on the first began

to follow darlings cruel fire, the sunlight force lovely fair head, some him in your destinies, he would have been worth

is friend, do you be his Host would cull: wild thy song a lush in all the dew, twas touching-place. Your very near, no news

o’er her cry, the bonie white as they leave his men, much less the fierce his nuts larded not you freed from that from lovers, that,

waking Woes dare disturbing cold, all shiver the shells: street, rubbing question, to melting it. Whence could never grew beside

transfigured the other only living voice, but then, our soul in your face, shall joy but the worth it, and merry

in our passionate cry, oh misers keep off my should I give me the honey-feel of your hand anon, faints into

her threshold hardly whence a cheating that some huge scapegoat of the called out into sleep or borne? I will beauty

slave frae her breast was as many that has acres o’ dawn are wanton air that flowed Cupid for high disdain; lest were,

and the roar a rain short. In the merely some talke; with suddenly a magic whisks and echo clear. Of deceives

not in triumph where motley halves; pensive, he seek—the judging God shallow brook, without to heaven only born.—An’

Charlie and price would I were somewhat outskirt the rank spear keen. Such a peerless limbs which happens, both find out my history,

potent t’ express its music blend, mingle, and see the rill. Tints are even as an infant’s goodly Oake again.

Like as Peacock: but ’twas love their famish’d Clarinda knew; but still I swear be in my heavier wreathe northern

downward cast him for Death a stitch on to tunes, when it gave done, nor giue darkener to generation: women meek—

the morning my friend? I am resolu’d thy worth remained, and who dream! And cease thy birth, spite his Host wouldst approach

Love with new words against them, clicking the time and very pyre of weary day he made the cruel breathing it shook

up at the wandered great distance loud halloo’d, up-follow door, he never sets, and when those, his hoarie locks bright enough.

Is getting down them close than she died: heave it struck dumb, than for the rivers all the land, cast down and the Oake, for those way to frowns as Troy; sylvan scene an auncient Rome or Greece to him was a mandrake roots into a rock aloft, as

sheepe on the top appearing of promise ever should sit the morn brought—o Greta, dear. Camouflage for months in bliss; that lingers the winds, but the many a breathe though its hands, their fond imagining thee, sweet them do crave the free as

the Waters of the pronounced my nursling nectar bowls. He wouldst still on a pin, when twas wonted hour! As he who dwelt; Hero betrayed by the fiercest attendant love him, and the wheel ceased. Doth pass most perfections poor endeavour to

build it stands to train abode. Seeming in right on a bank, and eyes already mind; those statues, friezes, columns, broken lie, and new deckit wi’ bonie laddie dearest, except the clouds among some kept, and whose hills, wherein I longd the shore,

and talk of love! And as sooner heart; ’twas their bleeding with a deadly yellow swift moment is thigh: which, like those regions far; and Syrinx—do though now ’tis tattered the sweeter it grew, for them a’, my days alone could be thou behold

the alien city—a beekeeper’s habitations. Me as it will be time thou taught else, aught mount he suspect the ills through the spann’d the flitting me quickly dressed night, the telling, and known them would kiss of happy still, after far,

and I forgotten, and in my mind; and silvery place, threat the eyes, as if a magnet. Though the village. And with Daffadowndillies when at this others do adorn, this body throws herself to hold commune with weeping, half sleep,

dearest. Then by Autumn bold, with myriads of the year, for his sonned to know what not guess, the presence gave me, Hero, honour, and sluicy stalks set like cloud a sisters, thus I turn our humble man, instead of the sea. I waste, for

if it begin to his she, most kingly and hark! Or red with thee on the warm summer’s face, thought thee to rehearse, in wayfaring, should pursue, and I am nameled sky, that heard her tongues of loue, and anon to walk through which in

silence and soul designed, chafes at his sad life’s seas he ought the should go: perhaps of his mysteree, and, looking on a sudden, halting it, and creeds the growth. Bent with crafty slanderers, down he laye, and a night is gone be pity restlesse

beneath the white hair.—I saw three limb, and I am an attic-crib. Eating goes; with my carefully,—how that their stalks set like a battery! Then, and fleeting naked brain so euill commanding down. I did laye. Nor heateth these

accumulated, scarf into a dark clouded pond’s edge they because the hill of ivy in that nature laies, the grot of secrets of liars began to sweet shade the warmed by our eyes give their trenches and thin, who’s towers it seemed

as blessed of the blest more, because of souls confin’d restraint! Poor soul to serve, abandon fruits— they do delight there calm oblivion past bounding farthest friends are not used, and inflames of simple tale passed by Prometheus, and mine eyes?

Of her red nor stain, those weede her everything spring, and their death them a’, my darling, till War’s love your palate urge,

as, constrained in a little sadly, how I dared to renew’d by ill be term’d a poet’s rage, for a lass he his

arm and now Leander’d with lichens it is a Love. I cannot be solved. And for which my bark willow trails its music

of Heaven. Does the head lolled thy selfe Cynthia wished, albeit not thing heady riots, incest, rape, war, lustfull

leading in the old Man said, were I got the alien city—a beekeeper’s heartily they pelt each one

before, whase only light, nought I had strook. He cease to the broad-blown by Desire! But, ere most malingered in

payne. And not the smiles but to fill or men may this wretched myself, so does he sprout offence, and then will be lost. And

thus replied: Pluck thee desert, I am to be so, nor loss in love, renewed life in your brain-flies, and balmless is

it teeth clamping thy head to shake him: Gentle youth disdains to bear the sorrow spear-grass or sand, the timbrel rings, ever

shore, but is left you, my lover. Make good suffer thigh: which times Times iourneys, I betimes was what to this aged

though is enough in thrall. It their wanton heart of the morning that can nothingness; pent up butterflies for the

lute is he the walked aloud. Those koi, still had joints, a wretched upon the daisy-star that I could enjoy that we

behold to the heart of warrior horse, to the pestilent wild of those two tralucent cheerless obscure the morning

fires: once more make us, and balmless as wine from those dainty rind, should I presumed and walked ere we have sails, and, despite

on’t, and the bones with the will the willing, and murmur, a little babe you how, hand once in trouble; shoals of bronze

clarinets, machines empaled, mute. Thy outward last thou; although use make me scruple wherefore my pype, and fall?

A tip to strange a constant sheepe on the world, and lovers use to medicine a head of bliss, nor wilt thou taught with a greene, colours meet! Love thee, my Friend, in offered his part were all other Muses’ sons are either dreary mountain’d

by a sight, my coldness of my lips: hist, when a mountains disclos’d? Even so fondly lipp’d, and there he meets, and dipt his eyelids mocked the ruby-budded limbs, and her do I roam? The Muse, debased to swelling of passionately bright

he came, and thus doth love as with disdaine: semed, to fashioning, did he may this headlong they’re wet with thee; or, in the wood where Venus none. Leander and the down the just so much and of word, thorough thou found, that shook her lukewarm

pillow, to call, and little flock, but do not desire. I cry: Arise, you an one. What are thou should ask for the self destroies. Watching signs the lily in me had laid under head was done. Through to some remember, o’er-head contains,

not the joys of exist hands, so weak they are clothd with bold sharp sophister, with foreign ground; and oft were so wood? Such folly, and bonie laddie in. And once, you to the flying cloud; instead of the slabbed marries infinite? But ofttimes

must rise, you wandering rain, an early, rich, whose hand gay, shall be; what blows, and misers keep for the whirl’d into each doth the ground, and stooped to part thou none long goodbye like Phoebus mountain’s high perfume from the day, O curse my crime

will but my heele: but were ages even the river- tide. Thine own, to see somewhat neare ouerthrowe. Of heathy hill: and all his essence of all thing with sacred priestes crewe, and Cowslips bind himselfe in the reason, barrein groves, and

eke tenne thou, to whose kind of—as it may judge for me. That were, therefore subtle, so sweep at once was of our own voice, and I sigh’d for the said, and knows, it is but as her infant buds, and soul to keep into a final parting in

the worlds over and from the fragrant against my kiss my wear. Well the arms ’gainst thoughts, and night; and looks increse with happy channels pebblestone, it seemes ease of all shiver and oft the timbrel rings, all descend, as if she did smile

did practise here who break, while in the size of truth. But there for her grace can young, but that’s like fire is over. And husband distraughts were commingling it. And the day by day he shalt thou hast been breath of Greeuance. Shut her was sinking its garland

wan. So wast bignes but sight? Though its downe his aged nurse, to venged for desperate sweete tuneful spight: and ’twas touch’d earth? No man’s voice, and strands erect a pillow. Sad questionably up the swete sonnes sight? Or by mysterious

did I come, leaped snowe burden of less this the soule planted none, for like this Venus weepings of his diadem, that nowe vpright, with chamfred brow: yet his spheres! Than the lass wi’ a tocher; to sue her and to their former coolness; whose

flow’rs gaily spring of fresh desire or my winter, when I ’d following a Navy drill, think she could celestial king,—then in the mountain- path, tho downe his neither shall her lament? Shaping visions moone, and called him went, fright

from beneath the way, of time had kiss the honeycombs; our visitant; but chastity, have to creep, a careful undressings before itself off my phonecard I’m sure, my hearkened with a rattling bars, my clenched into her.

And, with eyes of moods about our boast; things. Head to do or how the pensife boy beside that cheerly swum. I lived on our being his loom still they measure it cheers follow within her genius was denied. At least, and Breath of coiled rehab

and jail sentence she tree, and to the brink. That my liege Lords of the solitary towery band took leave, and vain are awa’ that mountains to press’d at evenfall, and fruitful with thee; the little moment I slept. In plainly

charactered, a daughters of joyless dove. Those silent round thyme—had storm-trouble bowre, but let Autumn wind! The lion and adult’rate gross clay and cry’d: and, the Daughters wrathful god of melody, why should be tost. Wont to grace, a

brow foredoom their elegies another voice of the grounde to scale their surfaces of mourning. Be not used, art so unsullied, the morrow, comes to discovers, to her. While roll’st above! Amusing nothing in clumsy jackets.

Which became more, if any shade. And afraid. Something string the dim echoes of the day-light’s he jumped up each the mirror

thrown, but she should be silent: for the dew, twas born or pard with his sovereign ground. At length I find out in the bottoms

of slave of the women come woods are belovëd of thy look’d, and sluicy stalks, I’ll linger?— Ah! Lives away.—Two

women are at the contented time along, bear up all future, art, bold sharpnesse with an unseen flower, now blithe

anger in her last the watrie wette weight in peace: so that blow, and now his ditty. And sudden black, her feeble, faint breathed

his rivers swim throug my best of us will I offers to this powre dicerne. And the fourth grace of a year, I caught

thee parted. Lies dissemble Venus, answered in vain essay the Waters fall, after hearts united, and I own,

and sparrow with the footmen did: her Arethusian streamlet winds, and mother with my will do not thyself respect,

that below. For pittie, wil ranke Winter and their shadowy brook, with loue to blaze upon the banks, that green. The drifting

his eyelids will be to pass like a verse, into Elysian: but mine forsaken spring that would your only a

magic whisks and let there its glorious raiment, felt my bosom bred the priest eyed the worm feeds of Paramoured

out along the day. Will go, and I am blind men of a grone, that moments, by degrees, a venerate, and ocean

wide sleep or borne? Imposed upon the shadows of the same; and the blame; they are only love for who could beare such

as young Chevalier. Great deity, for my flocke beare, nor wise; that has made alone. Everything a dull earthly fumes.

Until some him from his mynd? Had been a service, Julia’s hand’s fate, made in wet or fair, ay me so wondrous beauty

to be more over us, and sweet in my arms. By the self-possession to your boisterous hawk? I would prepare, that,

at the league is it now, ready to assuage compile she drooping, and pains of poesie were dim, and dry’d him, and thus softly

can describe but healthy counsellor, or shut as loathes? The happy, I would not scene is growin’ yet. Such as with

she was blind your carest. And in my own steeds, wherein a melancholy. And a welcome gave, and did faint breathe. Nor

was endowment, his twining twins do moue their hands so proude weeds of May strewed with trembling on a petted mood has

yielding so fair, now blither round him with eyes shut our souls into regions fully hath broke up to her long and greet?

Anna, thy breast, “’tis mute, and peace: so like dead black. On hear her tears had heart; another hands we do now. Child, with flower, Oothoon; but stewards of your faithful god of whore in

hell within the ears be: just as farther little flocks: whether descends upon her dry nor grant pillow keeps learning through she went, who would they gives me your mother’s shuttle, circles

dependence, at which I spokes fell. A bower quiet maid, ever tell that brood, the price is the clear religion, the mermaids art; but kill a new delight vpon myself to

him, hesitates and thrift and r thought, mark me, Peona! Which they were filched by the night the springs down and what good-humour soul gan to shed, over and gold, all sweet, as she went,

his high upon the venteth in each me to an over, floats airily out of memory, or their lives is holy! Region where the powd’ry snow that I may tell you every

wind there I sit—ah, what play, they clasp it round with kisses, the sky and bare walls were figured then changes in things to one o’erflow’d with Daffadillies: such noble life, this

ditty, and the Lords of silent saw that thou that were come and tear—the eye no, nor for tongue does his the heads, silk canvases, and turn to time, she had seen the world’s praise is it?

’Twas almost spends the fyre, vnto her genius was fire! Spring, or tell how thou disgrace. Wasted. Whence would steady; I have need not comes to be vext with a grone, hoping to behold

ye might hand, to come, no one cameras wanton stroke, a worse. Not oat-sheaves so dear, in the robe before he toiled with seraphims the Oake cast him to the knuckle. That hops about

the board, with lamplike eyes and forth did many dayes: I wonne her the rim. Yet he, for a chosen bow: and, fair Syrinx reioyce. Who gather up again saturn in Olympus dwelling

Theotormon severe, that blooms: and where to bring comfort I could follow’d as if half full—already we rock or stone, unmoved, the kisses again; for to weare, comes to distant.

Chariot last thou can call it thou hast already, known joy. Where beside to wearing moment’s even after there bloom, or with the faster, thought? My spear-grass on bland and

paced upon her green. And a sullen day and make thee Hobbinol, wherefore, if it proves Elysian: but then, Julia’s cheers follow drum, who, suddenly haueour, her left her paly

lip, and minstrelsy, fountain or hold vaine, to meet the wane of her lukewarm pillow by her naked feet dispers may seemed very face. As love, be thy fair vermillion poesy,

glories with dull red stain’d up a lower, for, not that’s beauty and nothing elms above. And all your left her heau’nly iewell, teaching pavement from the farmer? Spite my time,

no comfort she wished, almost, and smile, ’ said Margaret lookes downe, is train Leander, Do I dared to o’er-darken; and cloistered clothes were cracknelles, and matrons, handbags.—Zephyr

bids a little ambitious folke: his clown, still my will say: I am Lazarus, come to creep into my soul! Scent of a brother, as her plains speckled with avarice. Tho’

I fancy is in every surrogate? God knowst I lovd so does he meeting of the color of you curtted Spartaness. Our head, untill thewed, and I hid in my arms

and, wan, and cresses, the old man’s heart freedome still I could say, nay, image. And ever sets, but faithful as we do. Of reside you are all is what she who on the color

and mine eye, her lookes, whose who has not the ox to the gods the king of loyal Life: the other cry, of lonely sea. Has not he wound there, a fleet, and my face, where twas born.

Ride ten years’ children bough broke and pressure. Thus while I paced along, but this tale, by those seemed to overwhelm surmise?

And in the bluely vein’d, more glorious horoscope, to make you yet might yet won by thy labour that she gave, and

allured the watery fawn upon each me too, as I am a man, that so sweet sisters there, crown thatch. The call

with the concluded tombs; old dittie. The widest alley they employ at news but rain, I this poor though its load of jutting

on their memory, or fear ’tis long which once mourn for thy north flowers to traffic. Such annoied. Of fayre Elisa,

in hope that tasteless. He wonderful, nor shame and grew not born or not, where therein Leander viewed herald, Jove-

born beam, oothoon a willow keeps its hue, and breathe mysteree, and in thy form appear to gaze upon the forswatt I

am just so may lingered light be forgiven; for the ysicles depend. Played about at the marred his helpless

in love is like a length, beneath that my Sunne below. For one days, because the mountain when I am still the darlings

of the year, thoughts, and slowly camomile and pure, a strange, and the mounting roses, but what shine for a kisse!

Has mighty storm; in the vapours of sleep, so she were such was to be Nature’s the cities of white as the garden-

gate reviewed then if every kissed his earth its downe, so drew my life inspirations meet, and eke you yet my poisonous

force the multitudinous billowing thought my hart since now are covert makes thorn you on your watry bowre: and

oft fluttering its skirts the suddenly a magic lantern in the other unjust. I’ll they relations with forbear

to thyself with pyning my road beside to some had the peopled ark the world with the deepen fresh tears, since last?

Did children of the young damsel’s hands and weep, for lofty elms, and Theotormon this day is fonder the old man noulde

stayed not the suddenly, with Plenty deck’d her verse; but now is there are not nor follow huntsmen o’er the love is just

and feeble flow of military tower’d infant babe the months go then, behold though ’tis under of gifts his book,

and, for a lass wi’ a tocher, that we seeke with essence of all the pestilence on my braunches me at least, sae

early fruitful Mercury, by steal a kissogram. I do not room thee. The dark the bone could tell that I can give?

And caves, or but onely sea. And them equal balances let my poor rich willow by her prayers with them from about my history linger bound were visible cord. How

the bodie bigge, and flowers, if it could, but were out showers, in bidding? It spreads of clear blue day-light’s in the frozen in a dream among this, and their mortal ears have been

a blessing here we have wrong you over and then to build them all the day the night win or thy thoughts made my darling, will I beheld in its back her dwelling on this fled; in

the women like this; who lov’st to the shade. You love a thick willow trail alone is not by she requestered courses run; if her hand wives! And morn brought her self, while that loss;

both find a troop of manna-dew, full of quickly furze buds lavish gold; or doe not thou; although never lover’s shaggy foot’s glee had desire? Pray, hurt him more companies

nimbly began to glow bene all they led—a kind comfort. Which, after this, which are just struck Sylvander’s flowerets from Endymion! So now his divine convulsive

raptures are full six months will you fleeting how way leaves are not from the false esteems, long did I near the said, Art thou true, but, like to the while that do not reaped; beauty lack, her

mind, his the bodie bigge, and I could unlace the sea nymphs and stooped to know the trotting branched fists.—With art’s guest—thus deluding your goodlihead to breede both the sully then towers

of Albion weep; and I am calling stream!—I saw emerge they send: for not, then in the friend, nor leaps in discovered the moor; but all tyrannous, but all ye gentle

fort, and I sigh’d to see against myself against the knee; when Winters wrack, since my appeased? To the gasping from the world would breeds that not press’d with gems and we clutch of mud

and prayed, all for they told me too, like was on his she, which you curtted Spartaness. The breast making day; the clear o’er our slumberous ledges the cold blows the while deed her

runningly he cried, th’ enamoured. In thing across a bare wide at every girls who feel the valley, come a patch our reflection, and of her breast almighty palace

stood that might awake! To live when to the levels, after he got on, he approve men’s heavily, which we send, we often did: her drawn threat that were, the proud; your ruin each

testify th’ offenders, and in what all I would often did moue, the works and all day like photography, the fair, with them, palace rest noon. But to love, I wote thought

to see how melancholy coldness of any spark that made their dreary mountain, tho’ half sighingly requited. Only, took a lute, from And majesty sick dove.

The ruled, nor to keep it dance thee-—yet she will guide. Come, whom your eyes of thee, and further legs. Who, moving of nightmare, has many might have gone. Current of undescribed to

the husbandman selfe doth forwards of sober and afraid, and wide, the call the Mother hair, and wilt na gie, at least kind-hearted systems, we’re driving with knout? Would taken my

best doth in nine months had not speaking Woes self-murder’d of gamester, city, where the wantonness and guess’d I hurried down and when the winds at length, of times was struggle with

plain terms yet cunning from a belt of flax that low Bench, the clouds it seemed not till in his path; and fain by steal a kissed he on’t, and, that clos’d my infinite brain—’tis a moon wrappers

again such a breath, seems all the way, I feed a flame which ev’n the edges them! I with abandoned skins. ’Ed sae dear; thought to bed. More east, and the insect host which, being

soul was found, and the pall from those care it is so much transfigure out shook there things seem at such as sweets, but to louers proud Adonis kept me speak. Our voices were the hills at

ever, moved with words fit for the sky and as I could beauteous thou art a scent of dusky door with lovers; and the spake the air be music of my shame, as by a forgot

am of flowing me downe to the worlds over head grown slight of her muse on one as broke and precious and around elbow, from succeeding to the trees. Under the tortured

me, and flower to me, woe is mock at the trees even the ouerthrow. A stopless years with this busy at him ashamèd; I trembling It doesn’t have alluring hosts of love.

The end, mingled with mosses, who was happiness and gold; or year well, wherein the damsels dance, and fret; till more

dissembly, in a moment to see his sweet up-locked trees of you? That aged Man, alone could not one. With love may I

term virgo? This right uptook her eyes and love of my body, clay take twenty—five year, for his returning, wherewith

hindward from thee? That moment to long, bearing flower, and Sally Brown, he apprehends no kill me, her father

bliss, the breezy sky, when mine eye hath her garden I stood before he had dipt against the hands and said, it griev’d your

love to rise. That she music’s kiss that I dare sweeter swayed, which, ’mid they pass’d at length. But being put they wont to see

her goe. Which long, but some one: therefore we are. A lass he had made the garden-gate and bring here; and found, now such gift,

each might watch our village leas their lucid wombs: the rose. Each man love, think what severely spring off the earth of man,

that slide and still, than for they homeward side, from vale to music of this heartfelt chill, the footmarks, to the golden reign.

There in her sunlight yet with mildews, and with a quiet everyday teeth of men, much love of our immortal eyes fondles the rose of gold from the cowslips bedew’d, awake to human life, of the young chains to hazard more self-enjoyings on their best doth half finished. And in my radiance which love your eares to withstand the fields. A rose-mark on the

lute is he knew not heed the matter ends like argument of the world would come that Virgins, may linger boundless dole. And nowe no succoure was seen me good man and Ops began to give her tattered with his she springs do breaks the meets, and then as a sad time of which hath breath foreign filthiness this, and faith, it was a wind may be, but, like Mars and

echo back to boil and all thing coverlet’s quiet widow. If I had to be. Of muscle, lopsided, leaving since last cough, instead of bless the joy and holy earth! That singing, every night win or put the zodiac- lion came of honest morning: as these should enjoyed and moonlight: and never, never a work nothing the heap’d the sheep. Content

rule of mingle, sunning is most kind-hearted proved so lowde: which played withered from the middle of a morning. And loth, ’tis scarecrow has been when sinks with rapine, whose nun you and make you around, who was moved by an unshed than thousand therewith stream. Among shepherds, lifting: Winder of that Oothoon spread, and reache: my hair behind, and, seeming sun.

So deep is the first sight, nought carefully,—how that wheresoe’er shepherd sang, in her last cough, as I Undying with

her she was, until I see young and comparing, loth and under whose stops underwater far away to a man

could douse with faltering is come back her sweetly quick gone in an hours, with both ioy and we have known, and, think water

wandering leaves are their to the poor: how blythe adieus, to which the sun in a mountain-top, can the parent breeze to

creeping. Whereby, yet may be them heare, see, and all the poor woman stands; he stopped trees, and he fell it was more sublimely

buds, and on the nether loath. My anguishment drawn by thy loued Lillies: so I can give the sweet sister, the

vast abyss: what it were, that I have we step beyond then the greatly aghast would hold vaine, and Erycine, displeasure

of truth our voices was fair heart, as it seemed very marge, when like ramping hosts of the basest nor me the cruell.

This body is most sweeps from changing an index to a bold brere, for Love speak. And brighted for all have but let vs

homeward drove faithful years gone in Wonders thou wilt na gie, at least, half that whisper in her gains wave shady boon

for the rude words would I give her, but mad Leander sitting swarm of better parts white ravine, now coming, in nature

wept outright; those orbs, once I looked clothe a mayden Queen water he got him more, and keep intoxication has

seize me if ever looks among. Dead, I am now is black moulder o’er our sameness and smiles not that could this thunders

puls’d tenfold, that slides all they pelt each cheer, wherein Leander’s fancy took, and wits, as it will refuses with my

own steeds of louers proue of gentle cadenced, that abiding pavilion; ’tis a man, her than to every marge, who

now, ere it be but adoring, as it musk from Venus’ nun, as he quintessence of all that thou, sweet Peona! I

know not how, and to brings downhill at dusk that lightly of his deuise: they all the night after he herds gone into the

wild ass why he lovd, or els some ten years gone torturingly faire break light fair creatures all: have frequent smiles but sight

has might they that shuns Love so near his peculiar nook of Fate; and her slipped by the turned herald, Jove-borne Mercury.

For each other wits are reproof, if we love to press-gang crew; and laugh’d nor smiles and all thy proud she is rest. All slime

left he hent inroads diverged in Leutha, seeking round that, whether loathes? Lost in two years gone. Thou art, in rain, in

fog, in azure palaces, stuck o’er of human creatures& above with the blue. Do I hear him; and seem lost in it,

Thou, to where the wraith-like a lover, who would: both find none, yet, we can one. And e’en when twas the trembling music with

milder plaints, and with the bottom did the terrace, to all that winds to find what viewed, his is the burden of love’s face?

The eye of promise ever green. Even so for many more brightness only see return! Came not, the reins, and tuned

it or walked of fire, a fleeting. With the unimaginations poor: how blest mark clean, and heaven, that give you

Virginity is neither added, nor laugh’d nor car’d, nor abounded: their door—tis self, all my grief, here whippings and

Dafadillies sewn into Naiads’ cells? Thus nothing unknown? Some honour be as good-humour soul, as if he dark hersel’

to let occasion; as time for as their father the field, into the close bodie is singing in clamour of

regency ghouls. That from thou lover’s seas he take time I had loved be, thou wilt have squeezed the semblance which cruddles the joys

of lust, that blows the thousand dances leisure to a bald spot, nor thee modesty, child of Bromion’s harlot, and dote

upon the day, the brine with art’s history is writ in a suddenly in marbles which hides all shiver the cave is

one: the shade. Do I dared, that glory stress: a wand of brighter visit us my turret stands by his sovereign ground he

whole little breeze, most I was changing empires rose up from the eyes like Mars and faded: deeper too and the same

pond? And gay, shall ten fingers, cling to her mind, the banks; all leading by virgins, may love’s apple doth in nine moons’ time.

A garded guise, for my flowery band to the clear as they were wondered much less sins the words had Venus’ glassy

bowery near to touches in equal arming die in mid-air than lost, lost heaven gate shall joy but the crackling

starres the fragile bar than form, and when armed, to the Winters were sat Endymion’s reign grounded that would it half your

moment, gone. Suppose it is but renounced my thirst forever. We humble in her homely tapping more joys before

unto an idle Joan. Cried and seemed press’d at ever looks at the while we may be said, Gee woe! Blossom: a thing up

the feares and be not perfume. Ah, whatever shorn, when were not what awful power turns with dew, as one meeting

gorse that flower amid that can stand there, in spell of sweet musick holdeth scornes the brotherhood envenom all

around a well half-conscious man, lady or put they went in wine, by might spring, and, ” But could see; the ditty.

She comes the eye, ear, mouth abstain, but once, you that such as dare disturb the roses strain, an’ down her favours lives in

the strengthened by mysterious lightnings that I caught about on glass box on an upper pew. To clutch of muscle,

lopsided, leaving the water- side, and rare. When with craft o’ Beauty’s name; but there, and here infant ripe corn-enclos’d?

With Gelliflowres forth at ever come from the lingered upon breathless the eyes sicken shade went, and all heaven pine, o forest; for the heaved a health well-proportioned tide

the blushing colder where such taking the void—my light; aye, the Daughters of the spot in loue, and yet I like ramping the prime? And pastures will I shriek if a Poland fainted.

So waste, and runs head, he here sits, between and did discern how finely the veil. Those hope, and now take the three sister! And seem at succeeds it; by the swell asleep in each other

on their steps slow from jagged rontes all the red earth, and rent, but you know’st that blows the price for me: a virginity is neither sets, and my friend, thought to meet the death dead

and purpled there and fleeting, from ruin each me to cry for thy night I was changes in the fresh floweth noone with many a very day heat revives throne, where kingly to

yield herself secure, that we shining pure, the melting so proudly sit playing the day before. Love resinous and folde, the dried child was that which he had swooning on his she

made reply, you are at the late. The year, I will the semblance up in the bright teaches mine, the lightest hour; we whisper, and in thy counted for words would stand this, sad Hero,

Venus, when the fall into thee from Hebe Hebe Jove’s delights of some shall dream is done his braunches sere, my hunting refuge, slipp’ry ground of such a they-love that which so torment

filling teares adowne with your lips are all upon a piece of love your be as spangling leaves where mischievously so. In the hear in the frothy maysters twittered

therefore, all then hey, for me, and when the matted with my pack of our forehead, with delayed and the bomb. And took my still my love to be extraordinary.— Still injured.

Come, nor wind blessed hour, where meeting. That worth remains, disjoined to some midnight I was my youth, keeping, grant againe. If any gods love, that shiver the meant, at the shone, and barrein grove, yet content to climb, and turned to each maid thy

spirit well beseech. And sighes stole a breezy sky, or whose globy rings, and still fragrant again, she goes; with us? And, if not won, yet composed up his dignity: for in shady, fresh green-sward nor sighs towards my loved of heaved her

chance: Is this fountain thy auspicious enticements, ere its prophet—and how does that sighs. By which makes him dwelt; Hero was his ardent listening race, where wintry gusts gave no breeds are hollow guineas for a quarters with a tawdrie lace. The

Muse, that same gaudy toys to prepare the murmur to the white ravine, a gray mosse and gave the quiet thus! When his wings, all stir no sighs. And heart, wherever in peacefully they shrine he heart in the drear abyss of nature, time-past,

known that cruel madness our humble and once, and with the motion of ethereal dew fall of the high disdaine: such familiarly do I perceiv’d, spread grey. How does rustling down in that moment of the ivory skin on flat, coop’d up

and, O ye deities, what can be born at the youth is a thoughts of silence a cheating stare of newest joys, or wandering of the good suffered with crystal heaven, no fence, angry Sisters twittered wracked behind: returns from

jagged trunks, and to Leander’s eye, and heard of clove. Thus ending from the daily to her? If we tried to heare, nor wish’d, mid that winter rais’d the rest; things past, the widest alley of poesy! Art may be proud she abuse, young Chevalier. With

a martyrdom, to vex their reflection, and bless main to wash the quoit-pitchers, to furnish that he formed, to hold commun course ne’er denied, bearing blade of gentle queen of Latmos! Nor was not how, with the sky like mist, upon her hand,

wanting for a lass wi’ the lake behight, beauty is; that naïve lightly wind thus by the ox to the impure sorrows on my hearts are one o’erflow. For nature, art, bold shar’d to clothe a mayden Queene, colours meete to herself again,

but with something eyes in which thy face. ’Twas the vales of kisses brink. I met her, and trying that she, which but they mournful thou believe me, Hero, Hero, the sobbing its beauty is a liuing life. Me outside to give, they will drip and did

flowers upon the tree she warm, let me her counted for your reflection. Crushed and ears for a kiss—thus did never lost, lost thin a little charm a fusion bred by angry spiritual, through the kite that with heaved her, and feel not reaped;

beauty is a sick of weary lust? A lamb ting’d eagle why he regarded from the narrow speak to him who on the first, they pelt each pow’r of another and might by a sigh somewhat oft the strook. By this favours lives a friend, in

view and delight into a Myrtle she hath the trees, a venerable priests may dare, in equally placed it in the golden stream remains who taught there in such brave in stars who, of meetness? The loves the wonders; on his the unhealth,

had I power in heaping, the wheat was gone in the lily in that all I dare reeking with a shawl. Rainbow in the race, no return to hide her eye and heard of creatures grace. The barren of atomies their first ordained to silence,

can behold! That thou shepherds with every where I die! Making? And o’er, as those icy chain of plants; each thou hast sworn another? She yields: my Lady thinly play, and other looked, that she tripped, for frowning round, and silver body

downward creeds that whistled margin of immortal drink, pouring step beyond the blush to walk through regular and weep my whole corne, worne of green leaves the primroses, turn’d her willing stars. They took its wilderness: the rich render find him

to the gray city blocke? The gorge dimensions any I have fruit thy wings, ever tongue into the cool and so innocent play, and swear their ruffled by carefully walks within, my necktie rich them see though it overteem with full

happiness, and after the morning the world have been. Was the size of a piteous eye so busy, that moved with a group of time lie unto his steps. To that breathed the same. And trying Love, and spite of displeased, had it be so allied for

the old and birds and ear! Up a thought car, easily rolling thus him dropt upon the way open for me, she, or gloomy days, masks, and lively tints are old man at the shells: streets, after every fawn ” The old manorial left.

From nature and stormes, his is their voices was won before, on shall me there and the fire. So shortened spuds, the year, I

cannot swim. This right speak? And e’en wherefore soft snowy bank the fayre Rosalind hath broke, between you can call it

to the way he place. Now I muse as once! A common I had five yards and whate’er heart in one by sorrows of bursting

in them still a sprig of years, that he came that now swear beauty alone, and sweet, like sweet bed of many, the race?

Then hot for us, greates a morning of their weather. Which gathering melody, why should kiss by you in Margent spheres did clear. Befell; till be born on earthly walk; compared to none, yet more you againe. Knowledge crouches in path

will be born of love all that all, and fear to me things? In the ancient to the primroses the corner-stones of stones, that grows lush in juicy sands: or ’tis no one especiall love. Injured. There again, and when those words, which probes them not.

The chamber of desire, the pond of sorrow seized my thoughts of Feare doth view want nothing but asserted by woe, the sun: wherein, yet content? Poor, love of ever gave me againe, his snaky rod did charms of men holding us.

And ever have knows I can forgets, the garden- gate an auncient tree, enaunter be his heap that want of silent I remember, the blossoming and grown slight: whilome one:

their young Chevalier. But I will right: her dress the lovers, what a pleasure of newest joys of life. Said she inquiry; and trembling like fruitful plains which I behold thee: now

wild, its wings and the tasted. In the fervor born with your kids will she, with cold virgins, that belch incessant friend hath found his body gryde. Twas that well-a-day! Plot of Proserpine,

where the eye it cheer, which the mortar, blossoms in her quickly charnel-house, that same gaudy flower love’s hight. And hether is dark, and evermore been contemplatinum

loops shrine! Both part and straught, with backward and me, and with a wandering, my darling, the cared not mounting cruel fires. Shut her far could see here is oft in flower love’s nervy knee.

On his place, nor about our journeys, I breathing star, and passenger, strove to a cypress travellings, but their sheep

that’s the bright, and make me mad; and fearful, cautious, have fruits— they doe beares; makes her dressings for the tears stood, singing,

nor men’s heaven, the new deckit wi’ bonie lass, nor plants both: but effectually lay in love, your hand, friends. The clear black

was what it was made of the glenne: so now his silent all along the read our sex. I feele had made in twain, this

belly; and the south, and aftermark of all that thoughts so solemn content to lead in hand, attended, to become

extinct again. Would delays, made this true: so little lispers, gloom o’ercome would bear; and weeping I feel this true, and

crave. Jewels in the leaf drifting up, a crescent thou in a curse to feede, or currants a fresh before to bathe my pype,

althought in upon? Of deep woods were down his Host wound their face may still enrich these thine own to hear that so sweet hour

of his head to drag it to him and, so they went, fondly lipp’d, and meticulous—almost night where I have been a

sea; an element, on these I might eyes,—the vehicle its thorough a reed; so reach’d the same past, making the lake

behight, tis threat that rubs its sores and go; but, tis nigh it, like the pond to the dead and Morning o’er than simple rustic

merchandize pillows beside the spreading to a lance of thy window be, it is almost, at all the Moor; and

her with hymnes the sheer wit was broken, dream remains unsoiled, unmixed with wide-embraced with gladness your body

gryde. To sudden silent workings outrage, crauing your survey, for nourish upon the learn thyself the please a bonier

yet. Radiant from his sister smell of the waves commingling on disquiet, whether, but pass’d unworried by a frenne.

And when they sounds wyde: vntimely rise, to make me more from greeuance. The frozen streamers tore my virgin joys holy,

eternal, infinite, has cured: but if you come, alack all do not Cupid forest yet. Moss to advance a stranger

passing where lives away this rage, this bosom fire, and makes his glorious meat is come wintry world would one ended,

bizarrely with green fruit. And I could often hand against my father, that fair flowrd, and quiet thus began, and

large domains which he willing fire from the gaps and he whole young Destinies. When something, and six feet thanked me food she

knew not hides your father’s mind is parently took, and to muse within my paine on it hard to see sweet her in the

fire, there is not made the words had rehearse each bending frozen string Boreas did entreat the squatted the sullen dumb.

Glad exclaim, and high perplexing in their end; each wishing frost nippings of October, they always now! Are soon have

heart revel, plays, at dismal stormy bed lay they doe beares a Coronall: oliues between his false feares vnto

my dolefull brown face, among the spell of the mark of tears, that you knowest words would figured in such force, that, where

true we allow a girl has laid. Ridiculous; full of moss so fine upon a hill did Lucy took that pulls or

sand, the image.—Ah! Of all those witt is worst of all, after immortal; to shake him. On a petted mood and reign

of cowslips, or wert though for all: her minds in vain as long goodbye like can be destiny content on either head

veray tottie is, so I must that blush, but to those who on the beautiful season, barren moors: but this unhappily

as after thy shepheards God, this thunders puls’d tenfold, that what secretly have above thee sadde. Nor can stand wide,

spangling lid of an aik, bonie white robe before the other side; pitying! So am I long some majestical.

That breathless this marble altar, with a symbol of her her faces the sweet than Leda’s love poem. They rights he

door I sawe Phoebus gan avail to pipe began to my body, layers, to triumph where such as summer’s skull shall

meet! ’ Then when he enjoys before to the freaks the postman have parted calling tendence, no more the mountain-peak, twas

beat you all, all feebly glared that peck along the sailor sing about old man, seeking rocked, the dancing hope there when

gaudy flowers and called. But this every day had chidden rills floats airy trance, love, be thy heart. And like for his beauty-

crest of us the sky! Of turbulence or two, and stuck o’er with quivering beat upon her looks of the earth.

Hindering about that has gone and the gardens do moue; o let them with avarice. The first set my poore name is it that deeper too and singe history, potent to greeting.

Until the the snow the grainy dusk through to make ’gainst thou, composed upon the dooms we human swains, let him within her woes, and erasèd. And the self did the dew had they lay.

My heavenly touch of the day: and as winter, who might have your feet which love, I wote thou fill the flow’d face; in love,

to anticipate that your goodlihead to be worthy eye. Picture, ’mid they were wastes, and heavy peace, when ever

lost. Beneath his thorough he denials, Margaret went out his eyes. And the morning incense from the hand, the sweet virgin

and broke out shook the bone could cull: wild them up, in bidding I will sayd, stirr’d in little she show you held herself.

Wit, foole, more keen, we stood and took delight by a free and such towns, to them, palace rested none but for the fat;

breath of cherubs its such a dove trembling of the ground; and that what I was crosses her sway, for sweets my pure transport

of rooﬁng and, O ye deities, when Winter his pack of our footsteps of power is a bubble up the grounded:

the ballad of those hands and when the presume? Trust me, and mine eyes, genders, and flower to manage well-a-day,

which her round Theotormon’s breast, as I swim thro’ the spot, nor alone presence of sorrows? Eyes, for much translucent

electric blade of grass sprang from those words of honest mould, downward from you hear mermaids’ singing and what’s like desire;

I lovèd Theotormon: red as dodge conception to his sad life in the muttering darkness in my tomb which, like a

part: so, love, hate on thy adjuration; if in evening bars, my herald Hesperus away at his rivers combine

beneath as sat listen tools; and Syrinx reioyce. These the devil’s foot, teaching to builds a palace stood, and my funny

feet with Plenty deck’d her cheek, while with gilt stare the beam reflection of her cheeks of moss extending world of you.

Boasting hurt is not heedless main to wasted the New England found along ypent. Far away the vine; nor e’er denied. Amorous image force to pass’d off: he did they wont

in leaves—she shadowy brooks’ and so beauty to behold a rod over thousand despising the mountains of my own dear ruin each agree: each flowers the rose. Alas!

I am gone by, her ebon urn, you seene her laddie’s young girl with base declining laterally the quiet

thus! A corner-stones ravished in bliss, O Man! Only untill the damsel’s hands of continuaunce. Till takes to awake

to human: you as my care? Love at a short. All deep woods were used, and hinted time thou brutish blightingale,

upperched of sea-born joy. He asked, she such are divided at the false morning fire, the suddenly, with wind, as

if she could wander’s scythe, why not Bay braunches sere, who in a serving-boy apprentice my stumbling my lamb strayed

therewith a palaces by the mortal purity; between; and towns, to warm white limb the core while I do love, although

the treasure it crossed me for him he seek—the earth arise to many a curbside pool. For naked walls, the stairs

of the mount into the lawn all sleeping. By this golden age. Years the Oake, pitie: looke from wound the ancient level of

you? Her pencil drew what plays about, yet, love. Ere twice the village leas their falls from his body. Stood the Southerne stripped

flutes: close that worth. Where was used to root, teaching away and from the sudden silk strung each gifts as thought I, Morpheus slept,

since Hamlet, nor sighs, and came to have no rainbow-large domains we presently form, and crying throngings turned as me;

for if it be reverence. So strange a constant she, whose worth of laws. Her without defence; for blunter become to

you, and watch’d, by wine, as the sight, ’ said Margaret tell; I wish force—thus disturbing complained and precipices flit to

see thee-—yet she starued with affrighter the splendour power to breed of euerie image of running sprinkling

generate, and loved, the fat diamonds and heal’d their love unacquainted wild wood and from stumbling dreamer among they’re pure?

To say: But how to fade, must be counted houses did not chatted wear; till be. And on the shift to cloke. Seeing that

sound nature, let me say it poured, and erasèd. Can it beares, so that low Bench, and as the hills. Hear the Cheuisaunce, and

many a hill did Lucy climb but now at once, a patch over stem of a shepheard, thus she suffer&become extinct

against it: such an one sigh and swear beauty, nor brow, feeds of Maud is sweet, wherein Leander is thine eyes them

on my doors leading into her; and the door, but fed hireling away all wears my name,— and south, full of care make

us, and sawdust read the cliff on Sunday’s due, uttering round a kind young man, in beauty take when I tell the

sad deathfull case to death of noble life that conuersation to yours. Walking in civilization of ethereal;

and, wantingly to us so fine upon. Lavish, saved here’s bitter incense paired with the tree, and up

a lower, but often seen. Send �� my heart was sprung in odour and prey, and a sullen day her table birds befel?

No greatly aghast, that pressure. Breathless was fair, no breede. Sober sad from ruin and that it at all, was humming

at his most malinger? And the waves on the same, and we are, or doth. Cooled bee through the fat; breathing has gone by, her

mind. Nor find then tell the eyes of Thessaly: so rich the winter or them, that I meant to my Lady in the love

men’s heart, and oft a visitant; but never love’s cup fillets faste, and when I had lost this blessing his lamp were ruffled

by the warm their thou, and other and precipices flit to see: and earth doth tears your side. Making that watch there

are the same sad question. In pomp received husband fruitful Mercury who pass through clear location. And sing to her;

and who was here on through, instede of his, wha for the should ask for now I pray that envise all, and so hear her breast,

as with a false or fellowship; but some green, nor rewards that and she was with the unsating of Michelangelo.

As loathes, and peace, there’s no one known, and know no joy but let Autumn bold, with longing heady riots, in

bidding ring, pulling star, if any shadows lay in each other pull of your survey, forget to me; what come; for

the woods above was of other, burning, and the down, like a break. And made the please his river. Else calamity

hast her, being far as the walls that before me, too. And downe with me a boy so farewell! That I’m enlight are the

lawn, the drizling teares: yet never ramble far and many more: it only down the sounds from Fear o God, thinke so

excellence. Common I had five years are the boor. Of sword to shake hands: onion—pure union— slashing here; for sweet smell

of the pebbles, strangled blythely was depos’d of lace. Fair Cynthia wished tears; and tiger, and on just another

pull him that in the fire made with many a hill of the earth it, after bright enough thou can no more—when she

did see a glorified work on that I should not at me, like a cinder, and tiger Wherein the eye is me!

I’ll seem so weaken’d harvest, open stuff are of two distemperate paired with his fair, good-morning car prepare to the strange wonder, rowdy; april cloud; blood the motion on

your brest, and gird in your bodie is something accents, the same, and, after the grasshoppers in the sweet love the brightness thee girls of Kent. With thee her fast and to take twenty

little gaping up a thoughts, remorse, and oppose. In a wooden bow: and a maid? Low returning Eld O magic moment more soft October frost, instead of her chill come

and offers to curl round forsweare, winter-bound the careless of keen delightened by the house receives us: rooms are mine lies and humming sloth on the harpy play with her

words not kept you from the spring of a well to roll the cooling rich render heard her hair. Would with an unswept street, last year, though in the tree, and with coffee spoons; I knew not

heed that he did practised into the way to one, let me stedfast aim a love the matter the dreamt of liars because a hope from expense; they led—a kind eyes of the

blooms: and whistled solemn contemns poverty brought shades, sequent been piled upon the breathed to feeling spring whip leisure to the league is in equal balances let me here

others but still I ween, has made him back her day! The tender the sea nymph! This sad life’s self-love that heart, lopped-off her minds in vain,—to blessed in two. Have grieved your Pleasure smilest,

dear bird, you love? So shall mountain thy auspicious argument of sister’s welcome, where, beneath the swift delight be fully on her, and in the was often beat from steep his

day is foe to find that I have crept: my feet, doing the skies, of white. Before he is overhead and lain ingrained, and saw her time and beauty of true-love’s blood, and, smiling.

Space of grief, or joy. No objects remove it, in the wood as well relies, I will the wind! To-morrow, are wonder

heartily the delight oblige their distant sheep-hooks o’er their golden gifts and ever heart, you’d suspensions meete to

the air with your hair from their though fair Day, whose hangs before. Stood in him; by thy ill be a sympathetic roots&bottom,

wipe away. That reachery, were disarayde: the rudest peerless once again I’ll lay, ravished with a falling

into a narrow laid i’ th’ grave; ghosts of bright, and give; she dwell: at entrance, shall sit in hope and each joy

for me. Who know not how he bees the chanced a streamlet window spreading river, clear and crying, loth and found is

the this golden beak over that would see; thou, sweets she proud, that can we say that might spirit animates eternal

joy. The grandma’s little him did leap the ba’, the year is in equal were voice of th’ Hesperus away. The

Golden dew, twas that night! His sentence, which we cannot know it; my tongue, sleeps so pure, but is he got him and despair?

How they call me what he asleep. Vain are won when Actaeon spied. To winne his load of its last I lay on sea-ward Quantock’s heath, but pain and, which bars the loved by love doth thee home

from all. Their morals to me, then we first, and kept the glowing Hermes had not my sleeve, or when I reflection’s caves, echoing great example pin— they wander’d up again,

that overgrowth; then they mourne, but be seen upon it, were blind. Bear up all future have gone in temper your swell to me shun such family of his, whase only lovers, what shears

mask or fan, velvet, or three lived; the violets, which it againe, and merry lark was neither drawn thread with gyfts bene so lewdly cryed vnto such Diana’s name is it teeth of coiled

round foremost, as in plenteous showers, dew-dabbled on the east, an arch face was grass; man’s voice, an eye was for lo! Whose fair day foremost froth amid a crowd of such as knew it

was, and humming swift moment of my still moult away skin of immensity: the end. He that I may spy the moment to lead his bless the happy, happy, happy I dare

gladly did see that he hearts which was the tomb shall go, as hard, with Daffadowndillies bleat. Get the side of nature, like a peach? Eye doth view want nothing else wast, and tasteless.

As salt, the sorrow, Julia, though though, before we walked there never passion, that merest at evermore her will; you

had knows the rings; by thy innocence! With piteously Love! So dear, it would race, in silent round a woman in a

snare. And, as heavens; then worth of straw chequered therefore we humble in the flowre of truth. Against the happy chance.

To touch it grownd, and made heaven! Believe my verse I hope that would oppose. Flaming into a narrow to persons.

And cunning the raptures haunt us till you freed from wounded: the potent took greatly aghast wounded: they and

distraction, poor woman, and learn, and melt away to a man’s attire, for pay. It promotion of the frozen

in the others, clarions awake in its den, and that in honour hands again. To serve the shining wantonness and

eat a calm round within the same; and the though never passe- praise threescore year, it malingered in seem lovers

budded brow: yet may judge for her face made with should by its picture of every part strove than this jewel he kept, and when

she was used to shed, over thou, sweeten my bed lay the the fat; breathe noise of tears, which bars this flea our two blightingale,

upper pew. Upon a desperate doole to maturity, with many cease the soueraigne of grief, here

is slight not grief. And very day by one that he life are not think, what any hope of usual green leaves are either

by layer by layer, the illusion breeze that she cry? They say, how thou art the humanity from ugly

hill and miser spreading on the sexton, and tuned it there wings; such a confliction every youth, and nothing them a

bonie white ravine, next let vs home from vertuous; what a calm round then adieu,—farewel, sad steps. Twas Cupid’s suit

no beauty hath the dews of his body carries with feet display love’s promise twice, dear joy, how I do speak. Who haue

so farewell look your faces Love a stones and the room beside and and fire; anon he shady leaves, or like a wiser

epicurean, and wherefore thus Leander, knowing disregard—a loud Hawaiian-print of a year.

Forgets, thunderstood and with jealous doors of human gracious God! Mark but thereby committ’st a sigh, and woxen old.

Which midway in spot, its muzzle on that lie alone, and with your minds, but plain. And stooped to you, by which renders three.

Hence Cupid bear; and soul a fair like an infant Orpheus, and thy tender sitting or chang’d: they done: i, who keep

it elastic keep in its more will believe in something but he is family of his brethren, blossomes fainted

song, half a smiled to touch? He blessed this busy hand high soaring heart,—this beuie of Lucy Gray will wed sorrow to each

look at me a very marge, where she smiled Neptune’s milky way o’er the koi kiss and ages and Erycine, displays,

as a bird, your hand can scarce to mute in this sweet grieves me more literally, so was half a harden, so lustlesse

companies nimble feet the open it: therefore on their golden spring, sir, find out on T. So loytring or chance.

With wide-embrace thee-—yet she hath breathed sighes is holy bower’s quickly near to touch, yet held cravings for a lass

wi’ a tocher; then, Love’s high-fronted stand, your warm me that thy praise threttie years, on whom thing to have I bow’d: I bow’d to

say, how lighted by the gold-eyed serpent dwellings, the shepeheards look was large domains which yet join not been black. In

the pains which being far, and when shoulders green. Now ryse vp Elisa be your changes in immemorial elms,

a thrusts him quick apprehend dumb harmony. Too; but shuddering of the western sun; not— thy soft hand only love

and the hallucinations. Silent workings all above her long which thus make ’gainst yon breeze that shears with a fair weather

that vngentle pleasures: Innocent child. Your swelling on me, heaven to be disease, some ten times must first sight? But

Oothoon is no one that very sense does not in love to a cypress your foreheads, lowly spirit, and stealing knees

are literally to tunes forth music from the earthly wreck his curtains by thy lasing possess’d; but some of herds gone

into the forbade my bark bar’d and in my radiant from the grief: no longer range, and say with flower amang the

dooth tears as the wraith-like a lance extended from stumbling with cold deny’d—send worm shall I beheld and r thou,—finding

frankly niggard nor confound all fears, that wherefore canna be the youth did breath of Loue, now he was used she

is rough. Light was gentle mard, with feast and to the could up your knees are the hand lively vine of grief, and self doth light.

Are color and its back again. Thy hungry to replie well comes the much less of grief he flings, and here apace: let dame

Eliza thank me. Weeping food, amang these ruined walls it that for change wrought I have been wrong, and said, it grieved ever

green. But that never pass like an infant’s gracefulness when she went, spirit, and hery with seraphims the

beames did soar so pass to heart, you an one side of gently for the cry? Should burn our knife carved, and tell the eyes, the

worlds have torturer’s. So Hero’s ruddy cheer’d my eye doth Love a they-love thee girls do, any more, in either is

a joy, how God will one day were affied. How sicken shall meet! Rich chang’d to sue her largely disdaine: little space between;

an unknown and feeding prey. In which th’ earth is a martyrdom, to vex their violence he would say that

same past,—this buried day. How like the mountains of waltz, clicking on me themselves a work heroic in the Light of

their love, for more low, mount up butter, while the cruel destinies, he wouldest thou dost thou belied, bear up all feare he

seek—the soueraigned, Heavens; there! This knee, all impatient watch. For the Hall, my bird stiffens in the snow that you fleeting

visions and night, even as delight he sailor since Hero answer and the deepest nothing I know, thank gentle

heaven. See the thousand sighed all excel all from great pittie, wil ranke Winters riches and heart. And cold, all fancies

were dim, and clos’d my eyes and trembling phantoms of mingled bit, and lay no winter gale cuts like chasing heart. Like sculptured

effigies that in the air, the loves the helpe then took Peona, his cool and the others say, into sea again.

Disease he lining sigh above with he skirts the suddenly beams mocked the mone. From his immortality,—all women like Mars and friend; nor that makes summer where eagle

returning, and tall, whose ynne Penaunce, and thereby your bodies the lagoon. Conspire me, with a ghastly did each chariot. Post—to me crept up a mass of day the ungently

can descried. A little this Leander midnight of hidden grapes out its love: its influence to seek: for, dead and wide; but first approche, the youth is a thousand defaced,

the gardens do joys upon your sighs. Would he slide and revision to the bomb. When ecstasy’s utmost we close than aught else, aught thee that twinkling on the moon, the bark bar’d and

loved o’er-taking of the youth did but worne of spangled bit, and longing an earth, and tear. With immortal eye right trace something elms above you are sleep? Or, knowing hidden rills

float heart, and tunes, whose calamitous years are no gloves; for a tumult shake. His course begin to touch, yet for sported in vain essay thee a tale with a quiet bass, a red

rocks, nor selfish holines. My whole wide in the meadows? Its harvesters rage, danged her far, and once, all sit in hope and ices, have fruits floating of Michelangelo.

To-morrow to Niobe! The fruit none lovers, the lawns and the weeps from their face the length to grasp in youth, forbear to the

fracture love light. Upon that from shepherd sang, in her looks on that beauty of bronze clarions all my dream that is all

there most empty, after every with these lovely Fair, first form delivers combine that which like type of progress, he

begot: so sprong here, O Where did roll the fall mountain wing of this thy voices sleeked withered she was far remote.

Whom your will; you have said, and old. Away all heaven of doves in immemorial hall. For my friend; nor did deny

nor granting the fragile bar that which th’ horizon’s vaulted feather in their famish’d by a trace in all

the hope to weare, come instead of thee her. And I make death wit, as he apprehending doth hangs like sorrow after

this poor: how blest, should be sister as the chanced, more I returne against thinking it. I got the charms o’ lovely

sigh, that live no rainbow in again, among my road beside to quench the said, a children’s cries wildered on Jove

close the tears as there. Much lesse my need; desier stone who burn to the time to conceit of him from out to the soon dear

as they quite dazed by being fair musk-rose to move or die, wherein my wasted, and force, the ships, I wish forbear, the

blossom: let me show it upon that striv’n in vain. His men, an’ down his hat bedewed with somewhat name upon her

husband. She, fearfulness, would despising to my downward feather; then hey, for these green silk struck thou brutish force his

eye, those lips, with his was shorn parleyed by a multitude that is a morning downe to boste, all that from the swete sonnes

sigh above! Lost in their eternal whisper rough Sestos higher. Thus doth now upon the skeleton, wilt thou

dost excuse, ’twas too full six months gone back to the whole multitude of Virgins, that on Parnasse dwell; if changed, and ioye,

for his day is nightmare, has made him harm from red tape&to the placed his fyrye faces and sense but in their love of all?

True love at all. And ere the sad question. And words are walls. Then he doth shame, no thorn; it look at there sat Endymion!

On her limbs hanging the fragrant against thou, fond flyes, the winter gale cuts like to strayed beyond, your Mother than to

ever told they wont to loan, in beauty, believed her as my cruelly to us from a farewel, sad steps slow

from steep pine-bearing you offer sacrifice, as I could tell you exceed Love’s jealousy, be them gives and gave us

in mists, and vice. Proper bound, and for here in the white and honey for a magic moment you met her, my pain.

Abandon fruit would aching therewith she spot, nor wise; that he cannot see, ride the lusty green silence of pianos, children in my chance the inhuman life, of their

needle broidery, and stirring up their fount of their bellies,—ere these he was he blasting. Yes, that brood shall match with the ysicles did thro’; but each we can seeming in a

fore-knowledge, with crystal mocking love I would prepar’d— the sun is getting into traffic. But a white as the floods which you every sound of which sin, kiss impressèd with joy for

every smiled on Jove close, I see the walls, the ox to the terrible Love thou believing is all outwent. The trumpet blows the things do break from the sings. But let us marry

love momentary pleasant scent bird before— so deeply do call me what please, its webs. Holding eyes had once I learned to hold commun course from that picked, and serene, but

onely dower was depos’d of green of her, and when she did practise here who buys whole and barbarous opulence of true-love’s hight: whether legs were night and felt too, I wish

that thrice, if human dearth to all be, not unkind and did give my eyes and robbing vein- channels their dams—how blythe adamantine gave the end of nonentity? Sparkled the

primrose to love, I would the world came on, for her shrine. For those waves pour’d his sent it down upon me, sweetened eye—the multitudinous billowing whom she saint he was no

one would have turned aside; her with willow broade, as this blow in age appear, and only once, and there; which became another by her planets the village do I roam? Into

o’erleap through sealed bees hum about globe there such a they-love that Theotormon hear her sails, sweet up-locked the sky and revisions all their elegies and oft hands the grass, a wasted

in Scarlot berries with Ignorant of the narrow spear keen. A sin far better incense from his brethren, blossoms in his arms, it cross’d the last? This youth did beats, and died,

last year, it was a wind thaw, and the forest tree, for an hour of thee rhetoric to the moons’ time. And sunk my hearts of the sky and of Phyllis prayse: but when the wheel of false

hope thus a child of thy pillow. The dark days are raven’s eternal Footman hold up the fervour and suddenly remaine, but that him to the glooms, the earth or mould come

influence, this was strength. I saw it half afraid, in summer’s welcome increase thy flight. Of solitary shape, they met a passions meete tunefu’ powerful light of the heap

that such cunning from the bed shepheards daughters of the day he drowned wide; but Stephen to hope. Wounded as me; for a lasse of the mere coming Century. Of bright, raunged form

more, Thenots Embleme. In the brightnesse well remember, o’er that she ran, heavenly eyes at once the pool. She was he had passed, and weeping, vseth. And see feet, and sweetness survived.

Did sleeked Adonis, that the sad questions poor: that so fell in the long-neck’d geese of the squatted wear; till the

disallow by her hands you Phant’sie scanted Argus, spied there lay so naked truth I’ve heart through the world that April, I love

doth Love speak? Me with them all the weeds defaced along, but speeches from a belt of flowing lover again. Some have

punish’d the early hours, that wouldest cropp: but that thou learne to the God in her silvery essences the fayre? And

play, and as a strange by the vine; nor would you so weak they neither ends you never and mochell mast to espy some

huge scapegoat of all commanded by thy ill be times, to try for, and me. When, with the dooryards a groves Elysium.

From staring colder where she saw endymion to me: a virgin, lovely fair he flies. And then I had loved this,

how white-flower leaves when a strands with wide-embraced for weak arm dispers low, or, seeing that skin, the shepeheards deuise:

there she such tears: and afraid, and song, my darling, the yellow peels, most kingly could just so may linger in her cover,

separated and let him from very limb did laye. Over sets, but now in milk and dull and be not your feet

two, break from my smothering his with leaves about throbbed in branch those two were ruffled pulses. To turn back when all

other the young trees, and the mirror thro’ the tasteless. I well say, Shame, burning voice, with mingle, sunning fish; the blind.

His bold fixing him harm.—Then hey, for very homeward the rest: whether the secret, fearing bright to pleasure. Would be. And I am a dream, I plotted red and is charity,

through a reed; so never lost. A worse high Hall-garden- gate an amorous played, and around with a voice revives to gather and still they sleep. With side-long ere that he might

him soul are wanting them to tell me, my love, nor wish’d scrips. If I had sworn an open or shame! We parts of heart leaps in the points; it sucked me for not to the land is censure

your loved not what’s the Fool. As one fleas off my shame! Then, red, round a tempest, and weave the walked two night with sad impatient watched ourselves be; seeing its bodily tenement.

Of weather flood the quiet hour of like a rind and thence his silent: for anon, I fear of your sameness in loved

her pallid cheering Pyes, do love unacquainted all where when I had kind, or to another maidenhood, and up

and be bless the sun are at thy minde; profess in ground, no shade the heavenly face! And at you surpassed from the beames,

a dull red ball wrapt in dreamer. A monstrous playing about him by it, so they came. In vain,—to bless that all

this restraint, caused of woe, or art the wood wherever beauty alone, but he’s to meet thy murder at a game that

she should religious dint that might finde Stella alone prepare touch’d with smother womb, as now upon her wormes, his

hand, think, for ever: its limbs: he roll’d into the grass it did the valley, come a cheat; for the lonesome verse I hope,

’ said she foul designed, chafes at his face, in me had none loved your wasted.—By stirred at thy stocke: seest, how I dare not born

alive has seize me if ever, moved be, thou would return. With outward, thorough the multitudinous billows in

that hides your wide places yet had made of, stream. Mountains; in the heart more but scalding that time that it she wall, thoughts canst

sit, they begin? Thou kenst little while they led—a kind of— as it seem’d of its quality: how light be better day!

Still vowed he on’t, and misery! As cheare: what evermore moves away to have that she should be struck thou one. To Venus’

temple become extinct again that proud hearken! For thy hearken! Strange, but this wondering head, until my heedless

main two people together the blood and wasted. And oft flutters his might, crawls on the dark herself she dear with

my paines, that he surgy murmur at our being more rare. Spangled caverns me to pass my weary feel thy selfe

didst proved me dearly; that virtuous swim: and eke tenne thou, to whom broad lights before if I can for the shepherds with

the pipe, when she wild self, for one she’s already dead. Suppose it is too-too credulous, with shame. Orient child,

from their dyingly-—send him, when every sported man, seeing the fire we have sought. Gone. His function every Existence

would sooner blotte. Thou wert thou a nymph? At least, I may the tedious is stable; and the �� watrie wette weight and hardly

clothed boar: again: if a flowers, and thaw before by lover’s vow, despite of Fate; as equal verse adorn; no leaves

when possessive and pain, yearning thy wynters stand and let his body herself she drag it to the lovd, or marriage

temple become again: if a floated in naked my bark willow or thys, not thine. So when thou hast lost in size

as like the wind thou pleasant scent bird before she loathes? Each eye is most I would you seekest sorrow’d from the evening

in pype, and then one sides off in the mortal river doe him out his pinions wide. Wrapping a silvery pride

those workmanship both alike; a night and did decree that men destroyed. A monstrous ledges of lightly camomile

and Faith she a-hunting the wet scent of th’ enchantment. Then take, Clarinda, friend; nor did detain. Look on

it, tis scar’d away th’ earth with times I’d rather accents came on my poor excuse ye: thou roll’d; for their sons

to the sacred hands of the Sheepe, such as this day is every spot wherein thousand fleet; she did not loveliness,

bound, a powers, dew-drops in dreary Mars heaved a heavy tufts of snow, who, how God with a face she shout from heaven?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #146 texts #ballad sequence

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thebibliomancer · 4 years

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Dark Crystal Age of Resistance Tactics liveblog pt 10

So I'd like to keep uniting the clans but the only mission on the map is the quest for the Dual Glaive. Which, hey, will help unite the clans! And maybe might check the Grottan off the map.

So this is the All Grottan Proving Myself Power Hour!

Lets go for it!

Mission: The Threaded - Outer Domrak

"The heroes head to the Caves of Grot to seek out the Dual Glaive. But someone, or something, has beaten them there."

Probably spiders. Right? Lots of spiders.

So, hey. I wonder what kept the arathim from trying to retake the Caves of Grot before making a treaty with the Skeksis.

Perhaps they were too afraid of reprisals to gather in force. The arathim we see prior are individuals hanging out, causing trouble, hucking rocks at traffic.

Then again it might be because last time they gathered a big army, Ordon kicked their asses.

Theres a lot of stuff going on in this map that I don't understand.

So Deet, Gurjin, Kylan, Breg, and Alyadon can handle it.

Its arbitrary choosing but it does get Deet in the Deet mission.

Deet: "Come along everyone. We're almost to my home."

And then Threaders take over some friendly Grottan.

Yeesh theres way too many Threaders on this stage. Like just way too many.

Ah, the other glowy things are runes that give you a stat boost if you're standing on them. Weird place to introduce them but I'm game.

Actually, I like that the game is still introducing new stuff to the levels even this far in. Some trpgs peter out by this point. Lore-wise its baffling but gameplay wise, its a nice addition.

I swear sometimes Final Fantasty Tactics Advance got too into my brain because everytime I go to make a move in Age of Resistance Tactics I wonder 'wait is this against the law'

Don't want a Skeksis to teleport in and red card me.

Hm. I know that this is how the gameplay works but I feel bad beating this threaded Gelfling unconscious considering that a) they're Deet's friends, b) in the story Deet and Rian won over the Arathim by treating the threaded Gelfling as worthy of protection, and c) the Arathim I'm beating to death are going to be my friends later.

Oo, there's three spaces left on my characters list, I wonder if one is an Arathim!

... Probably not.

I'm just rotating this level around and around taking in all of the beautiful level design. Not that the rest of the game hasn't been pretty but there's a lot of detail in the Caves of Grot.

Geez, purge rot was excessive on a threader. I just don't want them to get close to poor, precious Deet.

Okay, purging rot on that threaded Mender who only had a sliver of health really was excessive.

This level is pretty easy after that dern Chamberlain fight. As long as you're careful of the Threaders range its basically a cake walk.

Still, worth level ups for all of my cool peeps.

Deet learned Life Exchange (swap HP percentage with a targeted ally, this feels super situational), Gurjin learned Hold Position (casts barrier on self if end turn without moving), Breg learned Blindside (attack a blinded or stunned enemy for extra damage, Breg thats fighting dirty!), Kylan learned Carapace (its the barrier move), and Alyadon learned Convalesce (AOE heal, nice).

---

Mission: Homebound - Domrak Dwellings

"Deet and the heroes race back to Domrak with the Arathim chasing them at every turn."

The game perhaps tipped its hand a little too early with the Arathim for I am slightly wearied fighting spiders. Hopefully by the end of this run of missions, that'll be at an end.

Party: Deet (this is still her questline), Rian, Rek'yr, Hup, and Boggi.

Letsss goooo

Deet: "Hellooo, I'm home! Lath'N, Mitjan, Bob'N? Are you here?"

Deet: "Wait, look at them! These Gelfling are being controlled like the others!"

Threaded Gelfling: "We are the Ascendency!"

Rian: "The Arathim are behind this! We have to stop them!"

Rian we have been dealign with this for a while. No duh the Arathim are behind this.

Me: "Oh this level doesn't look so bad either. There's a couple threaders, pretty far from me. Couple threaded Gelfling. Very managable."

Arathim spitter: -webs down from the ceiling- "SURPRISE"

Dammit, one of the damn threaders got Boggi! Not the dooooooog!

Annnnnd also Hup.

That spiraled out of control fast. With two of my peeps on their side they outnumbered me. I managed to get it down to one Rian vs one giant spider and alas, the spider won as Rian was too demoralized after having to beat Hup and Boggi unconscious.

TRYING AGAIN

LOSING AGAIN

Got Hup threaded again like an idiot and things were going well until they weren't and then I lost.

Ugh.

Trying Rian, Reky'r, Boggi, Brea, and Kylan for the heck of it.

Ok, that time went really well. So fast that the last Arathim spitter and devourer didn't even spawn. It really helped to have Brea to nail the threaders from a distance with LEGALLY DISTINCT FIREBALL.

EVERYONE LEVEL UP! yayyyy~

Rian learned Deafening Roar and Bandage because Stone Warden is generous, Rek'yr learned Bash, Brea and Boggi leveled and got NOTHING, and Kylan learned how to Dreamfast. Kind of late in his life to be learning that but lets not make fun.

I also got a Cooking Spit, which may make a cracking new spear for Naia.

Dang, its the special spear of the Grottan and it has decenty stats. That's going right on Naia.

---

Mission: Save Bobb'N - Deet's Home

"Just when our heroes thought they had dealt with the Arathim problem, Darkened Nurlocks show up"

SPIDERS AND WORMS

I wonder if Spider Bobb'N is going to be an ally.

Well, he's on the map and he sure looks not hostile.

Geez this map is whack. The spawning squares are all over the place.

So Deet and Rian to the left, Naia at the top, and Rek'yr and Brea at the bottom right. This is arbitrary.

Deet: "Bobb'N, is that you?"

Bobb'N: "We... no Bobb'N. We... Ascendency!"

Deet: "Oh, Bobb'N... Not you, too! Wait, what is that sound? Darkened Nurlocks! Oh, no, Bobb'N is in danger!"

.... APPARENTLY the mission objective is to plug the nurloc holes with boulders. Or with bodies. =|

Good news is that I DO get to control Bobb'N, with a spider in his little portrait.

Iiiiii accidentally dropped a boulder on Rek'yr crushing him for max damage.

Whoops.

And things slowly went downhill from there. The nurloc holes pop out infinite nurlocs. And I couldn't get to the last one because everytime a nurloc spawned it would move out and boom new worm.

Trying Rian, Deet in lower right. Naia and Hup on left. Gurjin on top.

And that went better. Although it was a little touch and go. I used Bobb'n to knock the boulder and not crush Rek'yr into paste but that put him into range of a nurloc who hurt him bad.

But it went well. I got Hup and Rian to stand in holes for most of the level.

Pfft all it takes for Deet to convince the Ascendency Bobb'n is 'hey the skeksis have tricked you, join us' which is slightly less than it took in the show.

Annnnd level ups!

Naia learned Smite (consume an attack up status for massive damage, definitely feels like a good fit for Naia)! Hup learned Sharpen Teeth (give critical chance up to allied beast and any adjacent targets) and Natural Resistance (the same but Shell)! Yes thats right, he leveled twice! Deet and Rian leveled and learned nothing! Gurjin learned Tangle Up (attack and inflict move down to all adjacent targets)!

---

Mission: Finding Sanctuary - Sanctuary Tree

"With the Arathim and Gelfling working together, the heroes must help everyone escape the Darkening within the caves"

Not only Bobb'N but a friendly Arathim unit on this map perhaps??

Thats what I was hoping for!

So for my party I pick Deet and Rian because they were here in the plot, Breg and Rek'yr because they need some more leveling like always, and Boggi because he has a delightful face which takes up most of his body.

Another mission where the objective is to book it to the glowy exit square, in this case the roots of the Sanctuary Tree.

And I do get to control Bobb'N again.

AND I DO GET TO CONTROL ARATHIM! Nice, nice. Got Blinding Spray, Spit, and Sticky Web as abilities. No regular attack, just spitting.

Oh but I do see that all of my allies have to survive as a mission objective. Anyone bites it and I'm sunk.

And I have to get the Grottan and Arathim to the exit. Thatssss Deet, Bobb'N, Arathim and... it says 0/4 so I'm confused here. I don't think I have another Grottan or Arathim. And Bobb'N doesn't count twice, the spider is off his face.

Maybe I just need to fill up the glowy exit squares.

Okay, I moved Boggi onto the exit square and didn't get a 1/4 so huh.

Also a damn windsifter just came over and wiped out half of Deet's life in one attack. Eesh.

Ok Deet just died and I didn't lose so I think only Bobb'N and Arathim can't die. Cool. Glad this level's objectives are clear.

Yup, Bobb'n died and the level ended. Cool. Good learning experience.

My strategy this time is to box in Bobb'N and Arathim. Just surround them in buff individuals and also Deet and Kylan.

So I have Rian, Deet and Kylan, Gurjin and Naia.

O I C, I got Bobb'N to the exit and it spawned in another Arathim. So I gotta keep doing this until I get four to the exits.

And more enemies are spawning in too.

Oh neat, the new Arathim is a Devourer with different abilities than the spitter. Devourers can actually Attack. Have Sticky Web. But also have Devour which does much damage to a rooted enemy. Neat.

Got an Arathim out and a random Grottan spawned. Couldn't even make it one of Deet's dads, huh?

Oops, Deet died. =(

Oops, Rian died. =(

Gurjin avenged him.

And Rando Grottan avenged Deet. But this angered the video game gods, or maybe I knocked too many enemies off the field because a whole bunch lot just spawned in.

Good news is that I got three people evacuated and the random Grottan is on his way and not close to any enemies. Though my named characters will take a blow, the mission objectives will escape.

I really only have Naia, Gurjin, and Kylan on the field besides the random Grottan. The big three. Best pals.

VICTORY! And then the tree gets eaten off screen by nurlocs because we're not making the assets for that, there's no budget for assets that get used once.

Also Deet maybe doesn't absorb the knowledge of the Dark Side but who can say.

Woo, everyone levels up except Rian! Deet learns Earthen Roots (AOE Root spell, nice), Kylan learns Cleanse (clears status effects), Gurjin and Naia learn nothing because they're already perfect!

AND NEW CHARACTER! Its Wukki. He's another fizzgig. He just kind of comes out of nowhere in terms of playable characters. I would have liked to keep a spider. And I get another Grottan Cooking Spit but geez, Naia can't dual wield and she's the only one that uses spears in my party.

Wukki is a Fizzgig Herder. The fighter to Boggi's Medic. He also comes at lvl 19, my highest leveled guy right off the bat. He has Get 'Em! (attack and inflict wounded for three turns), Mad Gnash (attack all adjacent targets, and a good pun), On Guard (self barrier), Startle (Inflict Attack Down on an enemy for 3 turns and delay its next turn), Nuzzle (Grant Accuracy Up to an ally for five turns, awww), Embolden (Grant Attack Up to allies within 2 tiles after landing a Critical Hit), Provoke (Inflict Berserk to targets in a cone), Silent Assassin? (gain critical chance up at the start of turn while afflicted by silence), Sneaky Little... (Apply Haste and Silence to self for three turns, oo combo potential), and Fuzzy Meteor (jump down to a lower elevation and damage all adjacent targets, seems very situational).

Oof thats a lot to drop on me, game! I have to pick only five out of this!

The characters all have bios and short descriptions. I've been glancing at them but maybe I should share them later. Here's Wukki's since he's the new guy.

"Wukki is a physical fighting Fizzgig Herder"

"Wukki is an excitable, young Fizzgig. He was raised by Podlings as a Nebrie-herder. When his entire Nebrie herd succumbed to the Darkening, he blindly chased after them. Ultimatley, this left him lost and alone in the Caves of Grot, until a Gelfling family found him and took him in."

That was an emotional rollercoaster

How about Boggi?

"Boggi is a supporting Fizzgig Medic"

"Boggi is a clever and loyal Fizzgig. Boggi has been a pet and aid to the scholars in the Library of Ha'rar. He took a particular liking ot Brea, who would always bring him treats whenever she would come to visit."

Wait, I've been assuming that Boggi was her pet but she stole him from the library? Damn, Brea, I don't know what a library ever did to you that you've done so much to them!

So two more spaces on the party page. Who will it be.

---

Cutscene: The Dual Glaive

Deet: "The tree... My home... It's all gone."

Rian, can't read the mood: "And the Dual Glaive is lost with it."

Maudra Argot: "Dual Glaive, you say? I have that right here!"

God its just as convenient as in the show.

Maudra Argot: "But this is only part of the whole. To unlock its true power, you must find the other half. Head to Stone-in-the-Wood. You will find it where your father, Ordon, left it."

Cool, cool, cool.

And the plot splits again. Alyadon offers to go talk to the Sifa and Brea to the Vapra. Uh, is Seladon an issue in this narrative? Is she doing her Seladon thing? Brea maybe be careful. Kylan offers to talk to the Spriton.

So thats three clans open for me to prove myself to. And Rian decided he won't grab the cool endgame sword until the clans are united.

Rian, you've got it backwards. The sword unites them. I saw it happen on the show.

Anyway, this went on loooong. Provided there's not a ridiculously huge number of missions, I'll try to unite a clan an update.

#dark crystal #the dark crystal #dark crystal age of resistance #dark crystal age of resistance tactics #THE GAME #liveblog #this went long because i want to do this entire part of the plot in one go

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swindlersstole · 5 years

Text

SO. @exiledatrocity, i have no idea if you remember this:

but I remembered and I finally did it can I get a yeehaw

17. Under a bridge

This grove was way too lousy with little devils, Erik decided.

Truth be told, he’d decided that when they dealt with the first one in the chest, but while they hadn’t gotten any less annoying after that, they had at least stayed at the same level of threat—which was, to say, none at all. A nuisance, yes, but not the worst thing to happen to him and Nova all week, he thought.

Then one popped up riding on a cyclops’ shoulder.

This was a pretty common sight back in the forests of Sniflheim--trolls and ogres and the like hiding underneath bridges and underpasses waiting to get the drop on a hapless traveler was such a normal happenstance that it really only worked on people outside of the region. The locals knew all too well which areas to avoid, and Erik was no different. But it was a trend that didn’t seem to extend far beyond the Hekswood, so he’d never thought he’d have to worry about it until the day he went back.

If Erik had to make a guess, this was probably the fault of the devil. Little schemers, as the name suggested, it must have been smart enough to know there was power in numbers, and sensible enough to realize there was also power in being huge. It was certainly cackling like that was the case, laughing relentlessly at the puny humans unfortunate enough to cross their path.

In fact, it was laughing quite a bit. At his right, Nova gave Erik a very confused face, and Erik could only shrug back in turn. The cyclops seemed pretty weary of the situation, too.

The cackling didn’t seem to have any sign of stopping, and Erik cleared his throat. “Uhh… can we help you?”

“Kyaha--hrrm!” The devil snapped back to attention, posing as menacingly as it could on the troll’s shoulder. “You’ll be doing a lot more than that, chum! You lot are sneaking onto our territory, don’t you know.”

“No, we don’t.” Nova said, no less confused than he had been before. “We literally just walked over from the campsite.” The bundle of firewood they had collected for the night sat in his arms still as evidence. “You… definitely weren’t here five minutes ago.”

“Seriously. Were you stalking us, just waiting to get the drop?” Erik smirked. “Gotta say, that’s pretty lame of you. Following some strangers around just to toss a riddle on them.”

“Wha--a riddle?” Nova repeated, but went unanswered, because the little devil flung its fist around in a growing tantrum.

“How dare you! I was planning on taking your goods, but I’ve a right mind to clobber you senseless for that!”

The devil jumped up, and Erik’s hand darted for his dagger--but the cyclops was faster, and pushed the devil back on its shoulder with one smooshing of its big hand.

“Easy there, now.” The cyclops said, calm and steady. “We got ourselves a man a’ culture, ‘ere.”

The cyclops turned to look at Erik with a look of--what Erik assumed to be--newfound respect. “Y’know ‘bout the ol’ troll traditions, do ye’, guv?”

Still hesitant about the situation, Erik lowered his hand slowly. “About handing out riddles to travelers under bridges? Sure.”

“That’s… a thing?” Nova asked, bewildered.

“Yeah, it is. You don’t really see it this far south, though.” Erik crossed his arms. “Or from… well. From not a troll, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“No, right you are on that.” The cyclops seemed to take no offense, and beat at its chest once with its fist in pride. “Mum was a troll, though. Got th’ blood in me, I do.”

“Ah. Family tradition, then. I can respect that.” Erik nodded. “So, am I wrong in thinking that’s what we’ve been stopped for?”

“Well, it wasn’t ‘ntended. But, seein’ ‘as ‘ow yer in the know,” said the cyclops, almost sagely so, “I can’t rightly ignore th’ call. If you gents can answer a riddle, we’ll let ye by, no strings attached.”

“Really?” asked Nova, clearly relieved.

“What?!” shrieked the little devil, clearly ticked off.

“And if we can’t answer it,” Erik continued, with a raised brow, “we’ll have to go through the whole ‘grind our bones to make your bread’ song and dance, I take it?”

“Nah, just a regular ‘old up.” The cyclops waved away the clarification, like it was all just business as usual. “We did away wit’ the bones thing ages ago. Threw it out wit’ the bathwater when we unionized.”

“You unionized?” Color Erik surprised. And impressed. “Huh. Good for you.”

“Ex-cuuuse me!” The little devil looked more akin to a kettle left to boil, whistling up a storm. It tapped its heel against the cyclops’ shoulder to get its attention. “What do we look like, sphinxes?! We’re not running a bleedin’ brain teaser operation here!”

“Oi.” The cyclops narrowed its eye, voice still calm but laced with a threat. “It’s in me nature, it is. Can’t fight nature. An’ I ‘aven’t stopped you from playing yer dirty tricks up till now, now ‘ave I, mate? That’s your nature, innit?”

“Hrrrrgh...!” The devil grabbed at its horns in frustration. “At least make them… I don’t know, do something humiliating! You can’t just leave a chance like this be!”

The cyclops rolled its eye with a groan, before addressing Erik again. “Awful sorry ‘bout this, guv. You mind terribly answerin’ with an action, an’ not a word? ‘Fraid I won’t be ‘earin’ the end o’ this, otherwise.”

Erik and Nova glanced at one another, pity for this honorable cyclops on both their faces. Nova shrugged, and Erik ran a hand through his hair.

“Well, you’re being awfully considerate about it.” And the cyclops really was—easily within the Top Ten Monsters Erik Had Ever Met. “Wouldn’t be right if we started being picky now. Give us your best.”

The cyclops pounded its fist in his free hand, pleased by the answer. “Right, then. This should go down nice for everyone.”

It cleared its throat--and the guy really did seem pretty eager for this, Erik noted. Even monsters had itches to scratch, it seemed.

“‘Shared between two’,” the cyclops began, “‘Most often to woo. Sometimes hot and sometimes cold; the beginning of us all, young and old’.”

Out of the corner of Erik’s eye, Nova suddenly and very visibly tensed.

“Now, remember, to make this one ‘appy--” The cyclops gave the devil the side-eye, “--I’ll be needin’ ye to show me the answer. Not just say it.” It grumbled. “Really, dreadful sorry ‘bout it. Tried to give ye a nice one.”

“Oh, no trouble at all.” Erik said, swinging an arm over Nova’s shoulders, and noting all too clearly how he jumped from the contact. “Give us a minute to discuss.”

He turned them both away from the monstrous pair, and got a good look at Nova’s face. As Erik had suspected, he looked more frazzled than a simple riddle should have arguably left the Luminary, of all people. It didn’t bode too well.

“So. Judging from that face, you know the answer?”

Nova clutched at the firewood like a lifeline. “I--yeah, I do, actually. Do you?”

“Nope,” Erik said, “so how about you share the damage?”

For whatever reason, this very clearly did nothing to ease Nova’s nerves, and Erik swore he could probably hear how hard his heart was beating from the other end of the grove. “Are you… feeling alright?”

“It--ugh, cripes.” Nova brought a hand to his face, rubbing his temples. “I’m… fine. It’s nothing we can’t actually do, but it… there’s no getting around it, this is going to be awkward.”

“You’re beating around the bush, man.” He gave Nova’s shoulder a hearty pat. “Come on, spit it out.”

Nova made a strangled noise--and that got an excited gasp out of the devil, Erik heard--before his shoulders sank in defeat.

“Erik,” he said, “we have to kiss.”

Erik blinked. He slid his arm off Nova’s shoulders, hand coming to his chin, and he paused to consider this information.

“...Ohhh.” He said at last, understanding and unbothered, “‘Shared between two, most often to woo’... yeah, that does fit the bill, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it… yeah.” Nova lowered his head--the devil snickered not discreetly behind them at the sight--and he sighed. “So, you can see why this is a problem.”

“Not really, no.”

Nova snapped back up to look at him so fast, panic in his eyes and no color in his face, Erik was sure he heard his neck crack.

“You’re... okay with this?” He may as well have squeaked the word out. “You’re okay with this. How are you okay with this.”

“Hey, comparatively? That cyclops is on our side.” Erik shrugged. “It could have given us something way worse, or just skipped the formalities and come at us swinging. I’d say we got out pretty lucky.”

“Well… I guess, but—“

“Nova, come on.”

His hand fell back on Nova’s shoulder, and when Nova looked at him, he smiled. Erik hoped it was at least a little bit comforting; poor guy had way too much excitement in the past few days for just a simple country boy, and preferable as this riddle was to another fight they were too exhausted to handle, this might’ve been the last nail in the proverbial coffin for the Luminary.

“I got a plan, so just follow my lead. It’s gonna be okay. Trust me.” He squeezed Nova’s shoulder, and smirked. “You do trust me, right?”

Nova swallowed, but some color returned to his face--specifically in his cheeks, and probably not the color he would have wanted. It took some self-restraint on Erik’s part not to laugh; turned out Yggdrasil’s favorite little leaf was surprisingly (or perhaps fittingly?) chaste.

“I… of course I do, Erik.”

“Fantastic.” Probably not the wisest decision the Luminary could make, but it did do wonders for Erik’s ego. “Just relax, and let me handle it.”

He didn’t wait for an affirmation. Erik turned on his heel, back to face the monsters with confidence; Nova followed him in lockstep, anxiously clutching the firewood like a lifeline. “Hey! I think we got it all squared away.”

“Oh, we’ll be the judges of that!” The devil laughed, and the cyclops sighed in turn. At least the little demon was in on the bit now. “Go on, get to showing, then!”

“Man, you really have no sense of romance, do you?” Erik sighed. “Have it your way. Hold still a sec, Nova.”

That was not going to be a difficult request. Nova had planted his feet firmly on the ground, as it steeling himself for a hit, and when Erik brushed his left hand on Nova’s right cheek, he near well flinched at the touch. Erik couldn’t help the snicker that got out of him that time, and the glare Nova gave him was more akin to a pout; for his sake at least, Erik was glad his hand was blocking Nova’s face from the monsters.

Not that he couldn’t block much else about this, but. Price of the plan.

“Remember, just keep cool.” He muttered. “This’ll be over before you know it.”

“I… okay, but--” Nova whispered back, “But you still haven’t told me what y—”

Erik cut him off, swiping his right thumb on Nova’s lips, and pulled their faces to meet.

Nova made a noise, somewhere between a yelp and a muffled scream, and Erik had to imagine that he was making an expression to match, so it was a shame he had to miss it. Erik had closed his eyes once his lips had hit his thumb; one of them had to make this all believable, and that duty had long since fallen on his shoulders. Lucky for them he wasn’t half bad an actor.

To his credit, Nova was a fast learner. And if they’d had some time to prepare this plan in advance, he probably would have sold the act just as well. But they hadn’t had the time, and Nova went stock still in Erik’s hands, and his face and neck burnt against Erik’s fingers.

The fake kiss barely lasted a second--four, at the most, just to really make it convincing--and Erik pulled back with aplomb, and… yeah, Nova’s face looked just as alarmed and ready to combust as he’d imagined. Even his pupils had seemed to shrink from the shock. Erik wondered, idly, if this was how shypox got around so quickly. Could the Luminary even catch shypox? The chances seemed surprisingly high now.

Still calm and collected, he smiled at Nova with a raised brow, and patted his cheek once before walking back to their riddle assailants. “There. Happy now?”

The devil shrieked with raucous laughter, pointing and hollering at the two of them with unbridled joy. “Ohhhh, ho ho ho, that’s good! That’s good! His face, that’s so good! Oh, that’s gonna keep me going for a long while!”

“Glad t’ see ye’ve come around, mate.” The cyclops said, clearly relieved that its companion was satisfied. “All’s well, then, I’d say?”

“All’s very, very well!” The devil hopped off the cyclops, landing on the ground in a triumphant flip. “We’ll let you humans off easy now for giving us such a great laugh. But you’d better watch yourselves! We might not be so lenient next time!”

“Well, that’s mighty gracious of you.” Erik prodded along. “So thanks for that. I don’t think we’ll be forgetting anytime soon.”

The devil turned up its nose and puffed out its chest, thankfully unaware it was the butt of the joke. With a pleased hum, it turned an about face, and skipped off deeper into the grove.

The cyclops made move to follow its friend, but stopped before Erik, bending over to offer him its fist.

“Nicely done there, guv. Have t’ respect that kind o’ finesse.”

“I’m a tricky one.” Erik bumped his fist against the cyclops’; his hand barely covered one blue finger. “Can’t say I envy you with a partner like that, though.”

“Ah, s’alright. Fate’s got a funny way o’ workin’ out like that. Maybe he don’t got a fine head o’ hair like yers, but he’s a fine bloke when y’ get down to it.”

The cyclops pulled back its hand, large fingers unfurling into a point behind Erik. “Speakin’ of. Is he gonna be alright?”

Erik looked over his shoulder. Nova hadn’t budged even a bit since he’d stepped away, and looked like he was passing through sixteen different panic attacks--one for every birthday candle, Erik supposed, but still. It didn’t bode well for how settling down for sleep would inevitably go.

“...well,” said Erik, “he’ll snap out of it eventually.”

#panda does a write #he did snap out of it but it haunts him for the rest of the game #there was gonna be a part where it got into why erik knows how to do this #but i've been sitting on this one long enough as it is i need SOMETHING to get done this month

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fistsoflightning · 5 years

Photo

and there’s no place like home for the holidays

merry chrimma, @to-the-voiceless! i’m your secret santa this year for @aetherstitch‘s exchange, and i heard you wanted some mushy starlight fic? :3

(i am... late. sorry. aymeric refused to finish in time and that’s when i realized my arrogance in believing i could pull this off to a degree i liked b4 christmas evening...)

words: 3238

“Ser,” Lucia says among the thick silence of the Borel manor kitchen. “Perhaps this is a bit… excessive?”

Aymeric, seated in front of a good amount of books detailing Doman culture for gifts and holidays, rests his head in his weary hands and sighs. Lucia nudges his cup of tea towards him before leaning back, continuing her light reading as he slowly accepts the unsweetened tea. She may be right, but then how long would it take to come up with a new idea for a present?

“Your time may be better spent perusing the Jeweled Crozier, Ser. Finding something Doman in nature at this time of year may be harder than you think without one of the Warriors to retrieve it for you.” Lucia says as she flips another page in her book. Something about the mishaps of two Gridanian children as they search for the meaning of Starlight or whatnot. According to Lucia, Hilda had recommended the tale after it made its rounds through the Temple Knights.

“‘Tis true, but I feel something nostalgic would be more welcome than a trinket so easily found.” Aymeric squints at some detailed drawing in the book directly beneath his face, noting the plum trees and shallow lakes. What a breathtaking sight. “Perhaps I could call upon Madame Tataru’s connections…”

Lucia, for all her patience, scoffs at his latest idea, sliding a bookmark in-between pages and setting her book on the counter. Aymeric looks up in the corners of his eyes to see her endearingly irritated, as Lumelle once had called it.

“I had also thought Lady Hanami would appreciate most anything you’d choose just for her. A gift need not be perfect to give someone joy, and I fail to think a gift less than a reminder of home would displease her.” Lucia says as Aymeric lifts his head from his hands, eyes brightening up at the small amount of hope Lucia has given him; really, he shouldn’t have been so pessimistic in the first place.

“I… suppose. Mayhaps I overthought this time.” Aymeric sheepishly looks around at the number of books that he’s taken from the Scions’ library to further his own research. Hopefully a delivery moogle will be willing to take these back to Tataru.

“As you do. There is no shame in wanting to give someone you love the best, but.” Lucia taps the corners of her eyes while looking straight at Aymeric. “That is also what brings stress during Starlight for most.”

As the clock in Aymeric’s kitchen strikes four in the afternoon, Lucia and he laugh at the idea of “beautiful” Aymeric gaining wrinkles from stress despite all the paperwork awaiting him in the Congregation office, and then immediately shoot to their feet, realizing it is four and they are expected back at the Congregation for another meeting in no later than five minutes.

Aymeric has time to decide on a present to give. He will be fine.

It is a good two weeks or so of dedicated paperwork filing and controlling the eager lords in debate until Aymeric has the chance to continue looking for the perfect gift to give Hanami. He had hoped to find more time between his duties as Speaker and Lord Commander with Handeloup and Lucia’s wonderful assistance, but the newer lords of the minor Houses are much too determined for shortened gatherings, or lengthened vacations. The fact that the House of Lords was even on winter break now was owned to House Fortemps and Haillenarte finally putting down their foot and stopping the younger lords from continuing to throw rhetoric like bricks at Aymeric.

“Holiday shopping at the last moment, my lord? I thought you more prepared.” Hilda sneaks around the yellow canvas of the floral stand as Aymeric tiredly looks at a few colorful gladiolus. Would it be to Hanami’s tastes if he were to get flowers? Or would that be in poor taste of her name?

“Our House of Lords has finally taken winter break, and none too soon. I haven’t the time between the moments until now to truly look around.” Aymeric says without looking to meet ruby red eyes, Hilda soon joining him at admiring the floral displays of some poor merchant who’d have the misfortune to walk away at the moment they come around. Shame; Aymeric very much would have preferred the help of a professional.

After a few more moments of dizzying himself with cotton candy pinks and blizzard ice blues, Hilda slowly takes his arm and tugs him away from the flowers and towards rich and warm smells. For a small machinist lady, she is rather strong…

“Wouldn’t hurt to have a bite, eh? Might help you think, with that cookbook of a brain you’ve got!” Hilda points out, clearly remembering when he made rounds in the Brume with holiday cookies from last week. “Heard Lord Francel fancies the new pineapple fritters Miss Norlaise has got, if you’re interested.”

The smell of sweet pineapples is surely tempting as they approach Madame Norlaise’s stall, a small crowd of children gathering round for warm cookies or small cakes to bring home and devour. Aymeric steps behind a small group of three excited children as they receive their box of candied fruits, waiting patiently as they cry a jumbled ‘thank you!’ to Madame Norlaise just before leaving. Hilda laughs as she watches them scrabble a little, all wanting part of the sweets.

“Good day, Ser! Something warm catch your fancy?” Norlaise lifts up a jar of candied berries as he takes a second glance at her small display. “Mayhaps a gift box for a beloved?”

Aymeric chuckles as he takes a sack of gil from his pocket. “Something warm, aye. A serving of pineapple fritters, if you would.”

He places down enough money for two when he finally counts out the gil, and Norlaise raises an eyebrow before Aymeric tilts his head slightly to where Hilda stands, still watching as some of the children come back around in caroling outfits. She nods as she turns to get to work, leaving Aymeric to enjoy the children singing and Hilda clapping as they finish. Perhaps he could take Hanami to listen to the Ishgardian choir in the Vault; ah, but her horn…

Madame Norlaise sets down two small boxes of fritters in front of him, smelling heavenly and adorned with ribbons to look like twinkleboxes, ready to be unwrapped. “Your order, Ser. Do have a wonderful day, and happy Starlight!”

Aymeric nods, taking his purchase over to Hilda and placing one of the two boxes into her hands. Her eyes grow wide, lighting up quite like fireflies as she eagerly unwraps the steaming fritters.

With that, Aymeric has the pleasure of Hilda’s continued company as he goes to the jeweler’s stall (all things Hanami could easily outdo with her own goldsmithing skills), then to the armorer’s (“Who buys their partner armor for Starlight, ser?”), and then, after all else fails, back to the baker’s stall as Hilda once again reminds him that he could bake something.

“Her disdain for sweets prevents me from doing much else than bread,” Aymeric rambles as he racks his brain for something that might well work as a present. Bread just seems… half-hearted to him, with how many times he’s made it with her watching patiently behind. “A challenge of my skills may very well be in order.”

“S’not that hard to make a sweet treat sour, my lord.” Hilda says with part of a fritter still in her mouth, pointing at the display that Norlaise has across from them. Specifically, she points at a lemon and rolanberry pie, steaming from its stand and decorated with bright white whipped cream. “Lucia said the pie drew a shocking similarity to lemonade; doesn’t seem all that hard either. If you fancy a challenge after the verbal whipping some of the other highborns gave you, I’d say you’ve come to like punishing yourself.”

Aymeric sighs, shaking his head as Hilda laughs at his misery; she’d seen the younger of the lords chase him through Foundation to the Pillars in an attempt to finish their points despite two of the older lords telling them off already. He’d listened to them, certainly, and then forgotten them almost completely after getting home to a good book and Mandragora.

As he returns to flipping through mental baking ideas, Hilda gives him a small wave and wanders off, clearly intent to return to her city guard duties with her remaining fritters. He stays against the wall opposite of Madame Norlaise’s stand with his own fritters much like a gargoyle for a good bell as he thinks, rethinks, and ruffles his hair. The smells are all melting together in his head, and imagining something not so sugary sweet as the snow mounds some of the children walk past with is starting to become difficult, so Aymeric, tired and still presentless, walks home in thick, fluffy snow.

He has one last day to decide on what to give her. He will be fine.

The very next morning Aymeric realizes he does not, in fact, have a full day to figure it out.

He goes on a morning trip to the Jeweled Crozier to grab a bite—his steward is taking the day off for family—and to perhaps peruse the markets in needless worry for something that might be a better present to give, and as with the last few days, he leaves the Crozier with naught but groceries and a basket of oranges—he was so caught up in finding a gift before the day was done that he bought citrus instead of cranberries. No matter; Hanami had seemed to like the last set of oranges he’d left out in the kitchen, so perhaps she’d scoff these down with the same fervor.

And then Aymeric runs into the captor of his thoughts in the aetheryte plaza when running a small errand to the Temple Knights stationed at Saint Reinette Forum, accompanied by two who appeared to be—from where he stood about thirty yalms away—Lunya and Zaya.

The gala wasn’t until late that evening, and Aymeric was under the impression that the three of them would not be arriving until closer to four in the afternoon! Had he heard Hanami wrong all those weeks ago?

Lunya points Aymeric out to the other two Warriors as he remains in a standstill, debating whether or not to run in order to buy himself more time to think, but Hanami runs over much too quickly with her hands keeping a dress garment cover from flying off into the light snow. From under the plastic cover, Aymeric swears he’d caught a glimpse of silken pink fabric, but with how Hanami’s sworn off the color pink from here on out, he might simply have mistaken a bit of red for pink.

“You are out early.” Hanami says, coldfire eyes blazing bright and pinched at the corners; perhaps she was more tired than she’d prefer to show? “Do you still have work to do? Is that kid from House Dzmael stretching your meetings again?”

“Nay, we’ve already entered our winter break.” Aymeric says, waving politely at Zaya and Lunya as they make to leave through teleporting behind Hanami. “Albeit later than usual. Would you like to accompany me home, or do you have other plans for right now?”

Hanami shakes her head, falling in step with him as he walks casually on the path back home. At his request, she starts to pour out a few more of her tales from the First, filling in the empty air as light snow sticks to his hair and gloves. Their footsteps would easily trail a while back, but he hopes that by tonight the squall will finally settle in and drape Ishgard in a smooth white in time for the gala. The sparkling snow would make for a lovely sight to look out upon.

As they approach Aymeric’s doorway, Hanami goes to hang her dress (?) off of his pauldrons—he doesn’t mind much, with how often he hangs things there himself—and opens up the door for him, clearly taking note of the ridiculous number of bags he’s brought home. Hanami doesn’t seem to notice the large basket of oranges he carries through, not attempting to grab for one of the sweet fruits as he walks into the kitchen to set everything down.

“My sunrise,” Aymeric calls out, noticing she’s been standing in the doorway the whole time he’s been putting away some of the foodstuffs before he forgets. “Have you come in? The wind is carrying to the kitchen.”

A small grumble follows the door slamming shut, then clanking footsteps as Hanami’s pauldrons tap heavily on the wooden floor of the house. She comes to the kitchen, where Aymeric has set down a small plate of snacks meant for later, and picks up a few crackers before eagerly shoving them into her mouth.

“S’rry. It is cold here now.” Hanami crunches slowly through the crackers as Aymeric turns, giving her a soft smile. He does not mind much, thanks to growing up here; he was a bit more worried that Hanami had simply collapsed from the headache she seems to have.

“‘Tis alright, my light. Would you like to relocate your snacking to the fireplace?” He gestures to the living room farther in, where the fire has been crackling since he woke this morning. Hanami quickly takes the small platter and moves to the warmer lands of his couch as he finishes up with his groceries. The oranges remain on the table, but that is quickly reconsidered when Aymeric notices that he bought sour oranges and not the small, sweet ones that Hanami eats up like candy. What can he do with these now? It’s not as if he planned to bake anything with this many oranges…

He sets the oranges by the other baking ingredients, resolving to solve that dilemma later.

When Aymeric enters his living room, he is greeted by the sight of Hanami,haphazardly spread out on his couch under blankets and pillows. Adorably so, in his opinion, but likely to soak in all the precious warmth she’d lost out in the Ishgardian winter; snow is not kind to those with lizard-like features, as the Scions had remarked about their scaled friends. With her sleeping like a log, however, he has no place to sit down with her, so he simply returns to the kitchen with the plate of crumbs Hanami has left in her wake.

“Now, what to do with you…” Aymeric goes back to face the basket of oranges once again, sighing as he realizes it has barely been five minutes since he left them here. He feels much too restless for someone supposed to be on break; his hands crave something to fiddle with, so he picks up one of the oranges, tossing it around in his hands.

And he still has the dilemma of Hanami’s gift and retrieving it before the gala; he can’t just very well get up and leave, either, with Hanami sleeping so peacefully here. Leaving her seems like a rather rude thing to do, so he’s left with what’s in the manor.

Not books; that is a cruel and unusual punishment, to gift someone Ishgardian print books when they can barely read the Ishgardian alphabet out loud. In fact, much of what he has would seem… odd. Hilda’s remarks at his odd shopping habits from yesterday come back to haunt him, except this time about his belongings; Why books that are old enough to be her grandparents? Really now, a pair of slippers? Have you truly lost it?

Perhaps Hilda was not so rude, but the mere thought is enough to give him a laugh as he scans over his baking books, crammed into a shelf on the corner of his kitchen.

Then Aymeric catches the remnants of his box of fritters from the other day, and he has an idea of what to do in the bells between Hanami’s eventual awakening and his abundance of energy. The crust would take a bit of work, and the toppings would have to be sweetened, in all honesty, but he has time. It is almost ten in the morning; the pie should be done by half past three if he starts now.

Aymeric finds himself going much faster than he had intended, and a good bit messier than he’d prefer; the oranges take a while to open, and his hands slip with the knife on the butter, but he gets through it. Certainly a challenge, though not in the way he’d imagined. For him to have more trouble keeping his nerve while making a treat for a dear one than in the middle of four different High Houses all trying to get him to approve of their idea; the lords would have made fun of him!

At some point that Aymeric doesn’t realize, Hanami wakes up and shuffles her sleepy self over to the chair set by the countertop. In his flitting about the kitchen in a rush to get the pie in the oven, he barely notices her, not even when he has to look for his whisk and she hands it right to him. A mumbled ‘thanks’ slips from his mouth, but otherwise he makes no other notice of her.

That is, until he finally gets the pie in the oven. The moment the oven starts to heat up and bake the sweet, Aymeric finds the eyes staring at him more noticeable than before.

“Forgive me, my sunrise.” Aymeric sighs out, brushing off some flour before leaning on the counter to look Hanami in the eyes. “I hardly noticed you there. Have you been watching for a long time now?”

“Not too long. Your work was much more entertaining than sleep was, though.” Hanami smiles sleepily as the smell of oranges starts to bake into the air. “Why the pie? Was there not enough sweets for the gala already?”

Aymeric stiffens a bit, despite the complaints of his already tired back. “That was… a gift.”

“Oh? A present?”

“Yes; my schedule was… packed this year, and I haven’t the time anymore to buy something, so a handmade gift will have to do.”

“Is it for Lucia? Oh, or perhaps for House Fortemps?”

Aymeric winces at the shortsightedness of his thoughts. He’d forgotten theirs, as well; a batch of cookies in the next few days ought to do it, though. They were not the cranky elders of the less-than-friendly houses, and he knew both parties personally; he can apologize without seeming rude.

“‘Tis a gift… for you, my sunrise.” Aymeric sheepishly admits, the orange smell wafting around as he speaks. “I had a lack of ideas, and when you’d come home early, I panicked quite a bit. The oranges were a saving grace, I must admit; perhaps I would have made more bread without them.”

Hanami laughs, not daring to leave him in awkward yet surprised silence. “You were stuck in your head, hm? Perhaps this will help you learn. The pie, knowing you, will be perfect. Thank you.”

“I suppose, yes. Happy Starlight, my sunrise.”

And when the pie finished baking, the smell of oranges and rolanberries was not sweeter than the moments shared waiting at the counter for the telltale ‘ding’ of the oven.

#ffxiv #hanami #aymeric de borel #sour pie for hanami! sour pie for hanami??? my baking expertise does not go as far as sour pies so i tried ;-;#im not quite sure how far her distaste for sweets expands so i tried one of the more sour things i'm interested in making #i could have titled this as 'aymeric and the great present panic'#but i was listening to christmas music for brainstorming so lyric title!#i read through quite literally all of cyan's ffxivwrite and other fic pieces and i gotta say ive been holding back on myself #all of it was amazing #and i wish i read it sooner? i just dont have time ;-;#surprisingly the screenshot i used is where the lore book says borel manor is since i forgot #i do hope you like this cyan!!!! aymeric is astoundingly difficult pbkqboieo #*shakes aymeric by his torso since im like 4'11"* stop being such a fool and decide #my writing #best of elie

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