#I can’t believe I don’t see more Rocky art

[triangular-dude]

I’ve been trying to figure out the designs and just wanted to stretch from my usual zone, I don’t really fully draw dragons anymore and I want to get back into it.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

P.S. Thank you so much for completing this series. 'Act II' has been a massive labor of love and so much fun to write. I hope you have enjoyed all 25 chapters! ... The End.

The Final Chapter | Chapter 25- 'Fiancé' | ‘Act II’

word count - 11.9k

The next morning, the trip carried on, and you were headed back to Spain. Jude surprised you with a visit to a museum that had captured your heart since he had first taken you there. The moment you stepped inside, the familiar scent of polished wood and aged paper enveloped you, instantly transporting you to a place where art and history intertwined in a beautiful dance. He’d set up another private evening there. It was different though. This wasn’t a big show, this was calm, this was you, this was you and Jude. The viewing felt intimate, just the two of you wandering through the expansive halls, surrounded by masterpieces that had sparked countless conversations between you. You didn’t know why things were so good lately between you two but you weren’t complaining about these moments. As you strolled together, Jude glanced around in awe. 

“I can’t believe I’ve gotten to a place in my life where this is what I want to do in my spare time,” he said, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “I used to think I’d want to be at home playing video games with Toby, but now…” He trailed off, his gaze shifting back to you, warmth in his eyes. “I genuinely…” He sighed. “I just want to be in these halls with you, angel.” His words wrapped around your heart like a warm embrace, filling you with a sense of joy. You paused to admire a vibrant painting, the colors almost pulsating under the soft lighting. 

“I love that you want to share this with me,” you replied, turning to meet his gaze. “Art has a way of connecting people, don’t you think?” You asked sweetly, trying to reassure him it was okay to have that change of preference. 

“Yeah, think so. Didn’t know that before though,” he agreed, stepping closer. “Can you talk to me angel… I know it sounds stupid but I want to hear you talk about it all—about color theory, the way you see things. I know I talk a lot,” he said, a teasing smile creeping onto his face, “and ironically, I’m doing a lot of talking right now, aren’t I?” He asked you with that signature Jude smile that always got him out of any trouble. You chuckled, shaking your head as you stepped in front of a piece that caught your eye. 

“You’re not wrong, you talk a fucking lot…but it’s okay. I love hearing your thoughts, too. I like when you talk to me too. Just… maybe let me get a word in if you want to hear about something” You teased. He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. 

“Okay, okay! I’ll try to give you a chance to share your brilliance with me. This one…” He pointed to abstract painting littered in colors. “What’s all this about?” He asked. You couldn’t help but grin at his playful banter, the way he made light of his own chatter. 

“You know, there’s so much more to this,” you said, gesturing to the painting. “Every brushstroke has a purpose, and the colors evoke emotions that can be incredibly powerful. It’s like they’re speaking a language of their own.” Jude leaned in closer, his attention fully on you. “Sorry…” You started to giggle hiding in your hands embarrassed by your own pompousness. 

“Nah, baby, keep going, I want to hear everything you have to say. Your opinions, what you love and what you hate about the art… about the world. It’s all so much more interesting than anything I could come up with,” he admitted, sincerity shining through his playful demeanor. You felt a rush of warmth at his words, knowing how much it meant to you that he truly valued your insights, whether or not he knew what the fuck you were talking about was besides the point. He was listening. He cared.

“I just think art like this is such a reflection of life,” you began, your voice steady as you delved into your thoughts. “It can tell stories, evoke feelings, and even challenge perceptions. The way colors interact with one another can create a mood, a feeling that resonates with people on different levels. Like what you think when you see a color versus what I feel when I see one.” Jude listened intently, his eyes never leaving your face as you spoke. You could see how much he cherished these moments, how he wanted to understand the world through your lens. This wasn’t his world but you were. 

“That’s beautiful,” he said softly, his admiration evident. “I love how passionate you are about this… I like that you like something like this. I know we’ve talked about this before but it’s how I feel about footie, like the history and why things happened matter. But this…” He gestured to the art. “This I don’t understand but I like learning from you.” Jude explained and you nodded in agreement.  As you moved through the galleries, you pointed out various pieces that sparked your interest, each one igniting a spark of excitement in your chest. Jude’s questions were thoughtful, encouraging you to dive deeper into your analyses. The two of you debated the meaning behind a particularly abstract piece, your voices mingling with the silence. The more you talked, the more you felt the connection between you deepening. It was as if the walls of the museum weren’t just housing art; they were enveloping your relationship, wrapping it in layers of shared experience and understanding. Each new exhibit was an opportunity to explore not only the art but also each other’s minds.

“Honest, I know I said it before but I never imagined I’d be having conversations like this,” Jude said, a hint of wonder in his voice. “This is what I want to do—explore, learn, grow. With you.” He spoke like this with you often but… it just felt different. You felt a flutter in your chest, a sense of belonging that only seemed to strengthen as you continued your tour. 

“I want that too, Jude. This—sharing something I’m care about with you—it makes everything feel more complete.” He smiled, and you could see the appreciation in his eyes. 

“You give me a reason to want more, to see things differently. It’s inspiring.” As you stepped into the next gallery, you knew this was just one of the countless adventures you would have together, discovering new art and each other in the process. And with Jude by your side, every moment felt significant, filled with the promise of what was yet to come.The museum’s grandeur surrounded you like a quiet hum, the towering ceilings and pristine walls filled with centuries of creativity and stories. Your footsteps echoed softly as you and Jude strolled through the vast, quiet space, but the world outside felt far away. It was just the two of you, wandering through an endless gallery of masterpieces, each more breathtaking than the last, though none more captivating than the feeling of his hand wrapped securely around yours. Jude had gone unusually quiet, his gaze flickering between the art and you, as though trying to absorb everything at once. You stole a glance at him, catching the light frown of concentration on his face before he turned to you, his eyes soft. 

“Do you ever think about having one of your pieces in a place like this?” he asked, his voice casual but tinged with sincerity. You laughed softly, shaking your head. 

“It doesn’t work like that, Jude,” you replied, your voice warm with amusement. “It’s not really the goal. You don’t just…get your art in a museum.” He stopped walking and turned fully toward you, his eyes narrowing playfully. 

“I don’t know,” he said, feigning contemplation. “I think I could pull a few strings.” Rolling your eyes, you nudged him lightly with your shoulder. 

“Please. You’re not that big of a deal.” He grinned but didn’t let go of the thought. 

“Nah, not yet, but for you angel. I’d sort it…” he teased, pulling you closer as the cold air from the tall windows brushed past. His arm wrapped snugly around your waist, anchoring you to his side. You continued walking, but his words lingered between you, and you knew there was something deeper behind them. “It’s just that…” Jude’s voice softened, his gaze returning to the paintings around you. “I think there’s something beautiful about the idea of being remembered like this. I wish footie could be cemented like this. That the art, the artist, all of it becomes part of history. It’s admired, preserved—kept safe. ” He turned to you again, his eyes searching your face, a new intensity there. You felt your breath catch, and suddenly, you weren’t talking about art anymore. You felt that way. That might have been your favorite part of museums. It felt like a dormitory for artists with infinite leases on life.  Jude’s words held more weight than the fleeting conversation about museums or paintings. They were about something bigger—something that made your chest tighten in the best way.

“I agree, baby. Are you just saying that… or…” you asked hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. You asked nervously, curious and hoping that this wasn’t just a blip that someone might have finally understood why the juxtaposition of the impermanence and permanence in art was so amazing and yet he was throwing you in with it all.  Jude smiled softly, stepping in closer, his hand finding its way to the small of your back. 

“What I’m saying is that you’re like my piece of art,” he said, his voice tender. “I want to keep you safe, to admire you every day, to learn every little detail about you—like the way people do with paintings. They don’t just glance at them. They study them. They see something new every time… they love them… forever” His fingers lightly traced a line along your arm, his touch gentle, reverent, as though you were the most fragile and precious thing in the room. “And at the end of it all,” he continued, his eyes locking with yours, “I want to make sure the signature at the bottom is mine.” His hand lifted, mimicking the motion of signing his name across your skin, his touch so light that it sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the signature you’d seen thousands of times drag across your skin. It felt like a vow, a promise that extended far beyond words, deeper than any conversation you’d ever had. Your throat tightened, emotion welling up inside you. You swallowed hard, blinking back the sudden sting in your eyes. 

“I like that,” you whispered, your voice catching. “Maybe just being yours is the only goal that matters to me.” Jude’s expression softened even more, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through his eyes before he leaned down, pressing his lips gently to your forehead. The kiss was soft, lingering, a silent affirmation that said more than any words could.

“Not theirs,” he murmured, confirming, his breath warm against your skin. You knew he meant the world—the prying eyes, the public, the constant scrutiny that came with your lives. “Just mine.” He double downed. You nodded, resting your head against his chest as you stood there in the center of the gallery. The art around you seemed to fade into the background, as though the masterpieces on the walls were mere echoes of the feeling that coursed through you in that moment. You weren’t just two people standing in a museum; you were something more—something eternal, like the art itself. After a while, you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a small, almost bashful smile. 

“I never thought I’d find someone who made me feel this way,” you said quietly. “Like I’m something worth protecting.” Jude’s eyes softened further, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. 

“You are,” he whispered. “You’re the most precious thing in my life.” The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you felt that familiar warmth spreading through you, the kind that only Jude could give you. It wasn’t just love—it was deeper than that. It was the feeling of being cherished, of being seen, of being held as something irreplaceable. And for the first time, truly, standing there in that gallery, you felt truly at peace. It didn’t matter what the world outside thought, or how chaotic life could be. Jude was your safe place, your home. You realized that wherever you went, whatever happened, as long as you had him, you had everything you needed.

“Jude… I think I need this forever… you forever,” you whispered, glancing around the museum. “Here and everywhere.” You clarified for him. Jude’s lips curled into a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulled you close again. 

“I promise, angel. I am going to give you forever.” Jude whispered gently. Your heart felt like it momentarily stopped beating. “You will never have to need it, because I will give you this every day of my life,” he said, pressing another kiss to your temple, “every day of your life you will have me in every place.” And in that moment, surrounded by centuries of art, you realized that no matter where life took you, Jude would always be yours and you’d be his. And the world—its eyes, its noise—didn’t matter. What mattered was this. Him. You. The quiet spaces in between where love lived, where you both flourished.

The exhaustion from all the traveling had finally caught up with you as you made your way to the next place. Your body ached, and the thought of another country, another stop on Jude’s whirlwind schedule, seemed unbearable. As the plane touched down in Greece, you leaned back into your seat with a sigh, feeling the weight of it all press down on you.

“Jude, I’m so tired,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “Why are we here?” You complained. Jude glanced at you with a soft smile but didn’t offer much in response. You frowned, slightly annoyed. “No, seriously, baby,” you pushed, adjusting your seat belt as the plane rolled down the runway. “Do you actually have work here? Like you in Greece? Is this another shoot or meeting or whatever? Because I still have my bags from New York. This is getting out of hand.” You whined. You were half-joking, but the weariness in your voice gave you away. You momentarily stopped in Madrid but not long enough for you to even unpack your toiletries. Jude reached over, squeezing your hand in that way he did when he wanted to calm you, but the mystery of it all was starting to wear thin. The car ride from the airport didn’t help either. You were too tired to really take in the scenery, the familiar landscapes of Greece passing by like a blur. You stared out the window, trying to piece together why Jude had dragged you here of all places. You couldn’t place how he could possibly have work here. It didn’t make sense. But then, the car slowed, pulling up to a secluded villa perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. Your brow furrowed as you glanced at Jude, still not fully understanding what was happening. But as soon as you stepped out of the car, things began to click. The moment the villa came into view, the memories hit you like a wave, flooding your mind with nostalgia. This was the villa — the place where you and Jude had first met. “Oh my god…” you gasped, the sight of the villa hitting you like a tidal wave of nostalgia. “Wait—this is where we stayed, baby!” You yelped, tiredness leaving your body. Memories rushed back, vivid and overwhelming. You could see it all—Whitney, Trent, the laughter, the late nights, the conversations that stretched until dawn. This was where it had all started, where you and Jude had first properly met. You grabbed Jude’s arm, pulling him closer as you took it all in, your heart racing with a strange mix of disbelief and excitement. “I can’t believe this. Do you remember this? This is where we stayed, where everything started. This is wild. Is this actually a coincidence or did you know?” Jude hummed in response, feigning surprise, but you caught the subtle smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. 

“So fucking crazy, what are the odds” he murmured, pretending to be as shocked as you were, but it was clear he’d planned this all along. You turned to him, eyes wide, still processing it all. You could sense his tone was a bit facetious. 

“Jude…seriously…did you plan this?” You asked. He shrugged, that smirk now fully visible.

 “Maybe.” He cooed with a glint in his eyes and you felt a bit of nausea washing over you. The exhaustion from the flight still hitting you hard now laced with fear. You were still processing all the travel and back-to-back commitments, so when you realized where you were, confusion quickly had settled in. Confusion, wondering if your traveling had even been for his work at all. You stood frozen, your brain struggling to connect the dots, unable to fully comprehend why you were back here after all this time. Jude watched as the realization slowly escaped you, the shock plain on your face. He couldn’t help but laugh softly at your speechlessness. He approached you with that same boyish charm that had first drawn you to him, his smile growing wider as he gently pulled you into his arms. “Come on, angel,” he whispered into your ear, swaying you gently as his arms wrapped around your waist. “Will you come with me?” He asked gently and patiently. You shook your head, still too stunned to move, your emotions all over the place. 

“I… I can’t,” you stammered, still in disbelief. You had a hard time understanding what the fuck was happening. You were stunned, like a deer in headlights. Jude laughed again, pressing soft kisses against your neck in that playful way that always made you melt. He swayed with you, his warmth so familiar, so grounding. His lips grazed your skin once more, and you could feel him smile against your neck as he teased.

“Please?” His voice lilted into a sing-song, pressing another kiss to your neck, each one softer and more coaxing than the last. You giggled despite yourself, the sound breaking the tension. 

“Jude…” you whispered, your voice shaky with a mix of nerves and affection. You could feel yourself softening, your body relaxing into his. He kissed you once more, a bit more cheekily this time. 

“Please, angel?” he asked again, his lips lingering just long enough to make you giggle through the overwhelming emotion. Finally, with a soft sniffle, you nodded, resting your forehead against his chest for a moment. 

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice still thick with emotion. You weren’t sure what was about to happen but in that moment, you felt safe in his arms, ready to follow him anywhere. You had an inkling  but you couldn’t disillude yourself. Jude grinned, pulling back just enough to look at you, his hand gently wiping away the small tear that had escaped down your cheek. 

“Let’s go, angel,” he said softly, taking your hand as he led you toward the back garden of the villa, the sun casting a golden glow over the shoreline, setting the perfect scene for what was to come. He walked you down the grand staircase.  The beach was calm. Empty so although it was clear that this wasn’t some sort of photo shoot for Jude’s work, you weren’t sure what was going on, you couldn’t believe it. Jude’s hand was wrapped tightly around yours as he guided you down the stairs, carved into the cliffside. Each step brought you closer to the beach, where the calm waves lapped gently against the shore. There was a soft glow over everything, the pinks and oranges of the sky blending into the horizon like a painting. You hadn’t questioned it at first but now, the villa, the quietness of the beach, and the absence of a crew—all of it seemed terrifyingly anticipatory. In fact, you had thought this was going to be just another thing Jude’s had to do for work. You assumed maybe he took it because it could overlay as a moment for the two of you to steal away together. But there was something about the air that felt different right now, something almost charged, though you couldn’t quite place it. Something much bigger than a moment away. But you needed to act normal, if it was nothing, like it had been for days you didn’t want to feel disappointed… and if it wasn’t, you didn’t want to ruin Jude’s plan. As you reached the bottom of the staircase, you let go of Jude’s hand walking a bit further before you plopped down in the sand with a sigh, smoothing out the fabric of your dress. The remnants of the day’s heat lingered in the sand beneath you, warming your legs. You looked up at Jude and smiled, extending your hand to help him sit beside you.

“Baby,” you teased, “you’re not going to make me sit here alone, are you?” Jude smiled nervously, his gaze flickering between you and the horizon as he sank down beside you.  The sand shifted under his weight, but he seemed restless, like something was bubbling beneath the surface. Both of you awkwardly expectant of something. He was trying to act natural, but his efforts were making him act entirely not. But putting nerves aside, you leaned into him, letting your head rest on his shoulder, oblivious to the storm of thoughts running through his mind, focused on your own. For a moment, you sat in a comfortable silence, the sound of the waves lulling you into a trance. But then, faintly carried on the breeze, you heard music. Not just any music—your favorite song, but played by a small orchestra. You frowned, sitting up slightly. “Is that…?” you began, turning your head to listen more closely. Jude’s smile grew, though there was something tight about it, like he was holding his breath. “Whoever is listening to that,” you murmured, “they’re lucky.” You had let yourself fall into ignorance, you couldn’t think straight. There was no way this was happening so the only option you had was to focus on the present moment, and the present moment was pretty perfect, one you didn’t want to leave. 

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little unsteady. “They are.” Jude chuckled softly, his hand finding yours again, squeezing it gently.  You didn’t notice the way he inhaled deeply, as if bracing himself, or how his thumb brushed nervously over your knuckles. You were too distracted by your thoughts blurring with the music, the soft notes floating through the air, the beauty of the moment. He let you sit there, hoping you thought it was all a coincidence, just a beautiful, serendipitous afternoon on the beach. Maybe in retrospect you should’ve put it together but you couldn’t wrap your head around the possibility. It was too scary. Jude’s heart was racing, pounding against his chest like it might burst. This wasn’t just any moment—this was the moment. The orchestra’s music swelled in the background, perfectly timed with the setting sun, casting the scene in a golden glow. Jude shifted beside you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, and you finally glanced over at him, noticing the tension in his posture.

“Jude?” you asked softly, your brow furrowing as you caught the nerves in his eyes. “What’s going on?” He opened his mouth to respond but seemed to catch himself, exhaling slowly instead. He looked away for a moment, out toward the water, gathering the words he’d rehearsed a hundred times in his mind. But now, sitting here with you, in this moment that felt impossibly perfect, every practiced line seemed to slip away.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” Jude began, his voice barely above a whisper. You felt a shiver run down your spine, not from the afternoon breeze, but from the tone in his voice. Something was happening. It was happening. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, your heart starting to race as you sat up straighter. Jude smiled softly, his eyes full of something you hadn’t seen before, something deeper. 

“This place, this villa, this beach—it’s where everything started for me. And I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s the perfect place for something new to begin.” He reached into his pocket, and your breath caught in your throat. The realization hit you all at once, like a wave crashing over you, and suddenly, the music, the sunset, the villa—it all made perfect blissful sense.

“Jude…” you whispered, your voice trembling, almost cautioning him. 

“Angel, c’mere.” He grabbed your hands and pulled you up. Your breath hitched as Jude asked you to stand. Your legs felt shaky beneath you, and your heart pounded in your chest as things slowly began to click in your mind. Everything—the whirlwind of travel, the quiet dinners, the significant places, the sudden romantic gestures—it wasn’t work. It was you. It was your relationship, played out place by place, word by word. Jude’s hand was warm around yours, grounding you as you watched him slowly descend to his knees in front of you. The world around you seemed to blur, your vision narrowing to the boy in front of you—tall, tan, and brighter than the sun itself. The golden light of the setting sun washed over him, illuminating his features, making him look almost ethereal. You felt like you were going to black out. Your mind raced, each realization hitting you like a wave—this was what all of this had been about. “You’re my world,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve changed everything for me, and I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to.” He cooed softly. Tears welled in your eyes as you watched him reach into his pocket, his gaze soft and steady, you shook. Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill as the magnitude of the moment fully sank in.  “All the places…” he kept speaking, his voice barely a whisper, cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Every stop, every country…” Jude smiled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s you and me, forever, Angel,” he said quietly, his voice full of love, as steady as the waves in the background. Your tears slipped down your cheeks, and a choked laugh escaped your lips as you tried to process everything. 

“I just thought you really liked me and wanted me there for work,” you interrupted him unable to help yourself, your words broken by the overwhelming emotion swelling inside you. Jude shook his head, his smirk filled with affection, with knowing. 

“No, angel” he whispered, still kneeling before you. Every breath seemed too shallow, and your hands trembled as he finally pulled out a small, velvet box, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he held it out in front of you. “It’s you and me, anyplace, anywhere. That’s all it’s ever been. That’s all it’s ever going to be.” His words wrapped around you like a blanket, warm and comforting, the moment became surreal as he opened the box. Inside was the fattest diamond you’d ever seen, sparkling brilliantly in the fading light of the day, reflecting the hues of the setting sun. It was breathtaking, but not as much as the man in front of you, kneeling there with his heart laid bare. “Will you marry me, mon ange?” he asked softly, his voice steady despite the gravity of the moment.  And you didn’t even notice the mispronunciation anymore because it was his pronunciation. His eyes were full of hope, of love, of everything you’d built together. Your whole body trembled as you looked down at him, this boy who had turned your world upside down in the most beautiful way. Tears blurred your vision, and all you could do was nod at first. 

“Yeah… Yes, of course, I’ll marry you, baby.”  You managed choking out the words. Jude grinned, wide and relieved, his eyes sparkling brighter than the diamond in his hand. Jude slid the ring onto your finger, his hands steady despite everything. Then, without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in the warmth of his embrace, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was full of promise, full of love, full of forever. You were speechless, your heart swelling with so many emotions that you didn’t know where to start. You could feel the tears slipping down your cheeks as you held him, this man who had brought so much love and light into your life. The orchestra’s music swelled, the sky painted in vibrant hues of pink and gold, and the world around you seemed to disappear. All that mattered was this moment, this place, and the man in your arms. You kissed him deeply, his lips warm against yours as the waves gently lapped at the shore. You were dizzy with love, with happiness, with the overwhelming realization that your life was about to change forever. Everything felt like it was meant to be. And as you stood there, wrapped in Jude’s arms, you knew this was the beginning of something even more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. The beach, the villa, the setting sun—it all seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you standing there, in love, in awe, in the beginning of something new.

At first, you couldn’t stop sobbing, the weight of it all too much to hold back. Jude kept you close, arms wrapped around you as you stood on the Grecian shoreline for what felt like an eternity, just swaying together in the golden light of the setting sun. Sometimes you just didn’t need words. The sea’s gentle rhythm mirrored your own breathing as you tried to catch your breath between the tears, but the emotions kept coming and going, like waves crashing and retreating. Jude’s grip on you never faltered though, it hadn’t the whole time you knew him, his cheek pressed against the top of your head. You could feel his chest rising and falling steadily, though you knew he was feeling it too—the tears quietly slipping from his eyes, the magnitude of this moment as real to him as it was to you. 

“Can I tell everyone you’re my fiancée now?” Eventually, he leaned down and whispered into your ear, his voice soft but filled with so much joy. You let out a small, shaky giggle, though still confused as you pulled back slightly to look up at him. His hands moved instinctively to wipe away the lingering tears from your cheeks, his thumbs brushing over your skin with such tenderness that it made your heart swell all over again. As you took a deep breath, your eyes widened as he turned, his arm still around you. You followed his gaze, your breath catching once more. The staircase you’d descended earlier—the one leading back up to the villa—was now adorned with an elaborate floral arrangement. Beautiful blooms in soft, romantic shades of, white and green lined the steps, twining around the railing, draping down like something out of a dream.

“Oh my God…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you stared in awe. Jude just smiled, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before tugging you gently toward the stairs. You took a few hesitant steps, but when you reached the first floral-draped step, your heart fluttered again, realizing that this was not just about the two of you anymore. Back up at the villa, you could hear the faint sound of chatter and laughter, and as you made your way up, it became clear—Jude had planned everything. The grand party awaiting you, the surprise of it all. As you climbed higher, you caught glimpses of familiar faces—your family, his family, your closest friends, all gathered in celebration. The moment you reached the top, a wave of applause erupted. You looked at Jude in astonishment, overwhelmed again, but this time by the sheer love surrounding you. Everyone was there—your parents, Louis, Jobe, Whitney—waiting to congratulate you both. Jude squeezed your hand once more, beaming as he raised your entwined fingers for everyone to see, announcing to the world what you both already knew: you were his, and he was yours, forever. You giggled but tears welled up again, this time they were happy tears. You were embraced by your family, laughter and congratulations filling the air, the joy shared by everyone around you as you and Jude stood there, soaking in the moment, now engaged and surrounded by love. As soon as you caught sight of Whitney, her eyes welled up, tears streaming down her face as she pushed through the crowd to reach you. The moment you embraced her, both of you melted into each other’s arms, the years of friendship and every shared secret rushing back in an instant. You both clung tight, feeling like the younger versions of yourselves had finally taken a deep sigh of relief, knowing you’d both found partners who were right for you.

“I’m so happy for you you gorgeous gorgeous girl” Whitney sobbed into your shoulder, her voice breaking with emotion. You pulled back slightly, giggling through your own tears, seeing her eyes bright with pride and happiness for you.

“You’re crying more than I am!” you teased, wiping at your face with a sniffle. The two of you laughed, the sound muddied with sobs of joy. Whitney wiped her tears with a shaky hand and beamed at you. 

“I found out the other week,” she gushed, “and oh my God, I had to turn my location off just to keep it a secret! I’ve been dying to tell you.” She smiled. You giggled harder, the emotions bubbling over, feeling like it was all too perfect.

“You’ve fucking known this whole time?” you asked, incredulous. "You liar!" You yelped. She shook her head, laughing through her tears. 

“No! No, I found out after Paris I swear! I’m just glad I didn’t slip since! You don’t know how hard it was. But how good did he dooo” The two of you shared another tight embrace, and in that moment, it wasn’t just about you and Jude or Whitney and Trent—it was about the bond you and Whitney had, one built over years of friendship, now seeing each other finally finding the happiness and love you both deserved. It was like a sigh of relief for your younger selves, a moment of pure joy, knowing you had come so far together.

As the laughter of the party swirled around you, you found yourself in the middle of a group of women you loved, each one beaming with happiness for you. Whitney was dabbing her eyes, trying not to ruin her makeup from crying tears of joy. Winnie was playfully teasing you about how Jude had managed to surprise you despite all your ‘sharp instincts.’ Your mum, still slightly in shock, kept looking at the ring on your hand, shaking her head with a smile. Her eyes gleamed with pride, but you could also see a trace of emotion, the weight of the moment not lost on her. The ring, a symbol of so much more than a simple proposal, gleamed as the women continued to gush over how perfectly it suited you. Whitney’s mum chimed in, joking that she wished she had a Jude to pick out jewelry for her. The conversation was light and airy, filled with the kind of shared happiness only women who have known each other for years could have. Everyone was buzzing, their energy as golden as the light from the setting sun. And then, a tiny, familiar giggle cut through the conversation. You glanced over to see Teddy, breaking free from Trent’s grasp, her chubby little legs carrying her swiftly across the lawn toward you.

“Mama!” Teddy squealed, clinging to Whitney’s leg, hugging her. Whitney, still emotional from the evening, smiled warmly and beant down to kiss her hair but Teddy’s attention was quickly diverted when she spotted you. Her wide eyes, full of innocent curiosity, locked onto you, and you could see the wheels turning in her little head. She slipped from Whitney’s arms and made a beeline for you, determination in every tiny step. 

“I sorry,” she said, her voice a soft babble, tugging at the hem of your dress. You bent down to her level, confused but charmed by her earnestness. Teddy’s eyes were so big, her tiny face serious as she seemed to be weighing something in her mind.

“Sorry? What for, sweet girl?” you asked, your voice soft as you brushed a curl from her face. You crouched down to her level, letting her know she had your full attention. Teddy shifted on her feet, biting her lip slightly before finally spilling the beans. 

“Judey told was gonna marry you,” she confessed in a rush, the words stumbling over each other in her eagerness. “Daddy and Judey and me had pinky promise. So they told I can’t tell auntie … I sorry.” She frowned feeling guilty. Your heart melted instantly. You felt an overwhelming warmth at her sincerity, the way her tiny shoulders dropped slightly as if she’d been carrying the weight of this secret. You chuckled softly, tilting your head and raising an eyebrow. 

“A pinky promise, huh? Well, that is very serious.” You cooed. Teddy’s giggle was like a bell, her face lighting up at your playful tone. 

“Yeah huh,” she nodded, her small fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress. “Serus.”  She emphasized the word as if she were letting you in on a great universal truth. You grinned, scooping her up into your arms and hugging her close.

“I understand Ted. Pinky promises are important,” you said, brushing your nose against hers. She burst into another fit of giggles, squirming with joy in your embrace. It was a small moment, but it was filled with so much love and innocence. And as you held her, her little arms wrapping tightly around your neck, you felt something incredibly precious about this child’s naive understanding of love and promises. After a few moments, Teddy leaned back, her eyes still wide with wonder. 

“You most lucky, tay?” She looked at you with the seriousness only a child could muster. You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in her voice. 

“Why’s that, Teddy girl?” You asked. Her little voice dropped to a whisper, as if she was sharing a secret meant only for you. 

“Judey the nicest.” Her words hit you squarely in the chest, and your heart swelled so much it almost hurt. You swallowed a lump in your throat, holding back more tears that threatened to spill over. You smiled, hugging her a little closer. 

“Yeah, Ted,” you whispered, your voice soft with emotion. “I’m really, really lucky. Judey is the nicest.” You concurred kissing her cheek. Your eyes flicking to find Jude amongst your friends and family. She nodded firmly, clearly satisfied with her conclusion. The simplicity of her words, spoken with such conviction, left a profound mark on you. It was a reminder of all the reasons you’d fallen in love with Jude in the first place. In her innocence, Teddy had perfectly summed up what mattered most: that Jude was good, that he was kind, and that you were lucky to have found him. You stood, still holding her close, as you turned back to the group of women who had been watching the entire exchange with knowing smiles on their faces. Whitney reached over and adjusted Teddy’s dress, tears in her eyes once again. 

“She’s not wrong,” Whitney said softly, glancing at you. “You are lucky, Y/N. But so is Jude.” You laughed through the tears that were finally spilling over, your heart full to the brim with love—for your family, for this life you were building, and for the man who was waiting for you just across the garden, probably grinning like an idiot, already planning the next moment to make you feel even luckier. That evening, the villa came alive with the glow of celebration. The Grecian coast hummed with the sounds of your family and closest friends gathering for a dinner that felt like something out of a dream. Long tables were set beneath the open sky, draped in fine white linens and adorned with candlesticks. Soft candlelight flickered against the rich blooms of flowers spilling across the table in blush tones—roses, peonies, and wild greenery interwoven with the delicate coastal breeze. The air smelled of salt and sea, a cool breeze rolling off the water and mingling with the scents of grilled seafood, freshly baked bread, and olive oil. The sky shifted from deep orange to lavender as the sun dipped lower toward the horizon, casting a golden glow over the scene. The waves lapped gently against the shore, the rhythm of the ocean setting a peaceful backdrop to the lively conversations and laughter bubbling from the guests.

As you sat next to Jude at the head of the table, you felt like the luckiest person in the world. You were surrounded by your family—your mum, who hadn’t stopped smiling since you arrived; your brother Louis, who kept clinking his glass to toast your engagement; Whitney and Trent, who were beaming with joy at their seats across from you, with Teddy in their lap. Winnie was there too, making jokes and keeping the mood light with her witty banter. Aurelien, your dad, Jobe, Denise and Mark, the list goes on. Everyone you loved was gathered in this perfect moment, toasting to you and Jude, the two of you at the heart of it all. Jude sat close, his hand never leaving yours. He was glowing with happiness, his smile wide as he toasted along with everyone, his fingers laced through yours beneath the table. Every now and then, he would lean in to kiss your temple or whisper something sweet in your ear, making you blush and giggle. You couldn’t help but marvel at how perfect everything felt. The conversations, the laughter, the music—it was like a symphony of love playing out under the stars. As the night deepened, the candles grew shorter, their flames flickering in the soft breeze, but the warmth around the table only grew stronger. Your family shared stories of love and laughter, of memories they held dear about you and Jude, of all the adventures yet to come. The stars above seemed to mirror the sparkle in your eyes as you glanced over at Jude, who looked more handsome than ever in the dim glow of the candles. As dessert was served—sweet honey-drenched baklava and rich chocolate torte—you and Jude shared a quiet moment amidst the revelry. He squeezed your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your engagement ring, and gave you a look that made your heart skip a beat.

“How’s it feel being the most beautiful girl in the world?” he asked, his voice low and full of affection. You blushed, leaning into him, the warmth of his words wrapping around you. 

“It feels pretty surreal,” you whispered. “How’s it feel being engaged to her?” You cheekily replied. 

“Pretty surreal.” He echoed you with a smirk. 

“No, seriously, it feels like I’m living in a dream right now.” You cut in with a warm smile. He kissed your temple with a hum.

“It’s not a dream, angel. This is our life. You and me, forever.” He smiled, his eyes softening.

Later, as the party continued into the night, you and Jude quietly slipped away from the table, leaving the laughter and love to continue around the table without you. He led you back to the villa, up the winding staircase to your private bedroom suite. The door clicked softly behind you as you stepped into the room, leaving the glow of the celebration behind for something more intimate, more personal. The bedroom was softly lit by a few candles flickering in the corners, the scent of jasmine and sea air filling the space. Large glass doors were open to the balcony, letting in the breeze from the ocean and the sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore. The bed was draped in soft, luxurious linens, and there was an air of quiet serenity, a stark contrast to the lively party outside. Jude pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your waist as he buried his face in your neck, kissing the soft skin there. 

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Forever.” You smiled, your heart swelling with love as you ran your fingers over his hair. 

“I’ve always been yours.” The intimacy between you both deepened as the night unfolded in the privacy of your suite. His kisses grew more passionate, his hands more eager as he undressed you slowly, savoring every moment as if it were sacred. You slipped out of your dress, you let it pool at your feet, revealing your naked body for him. You admired your reflection in the mirror, running your hands over your soft skin, your fingers lingering on your nipples, making them harden. Jude’s eyes raked over your body, taking in the sight of your bare tits. He stood behind you, his eyes never leaving you, as he slowly began to undress himself.

"There’s no way you’re real, Y/N," he says, his voice hoarse with desire and a shake of the head.

“You going to let me taste every inch of you?"  You cooed as you bit your lip, feeling a surge of power as you watched him reveal his muscular body through the mirror. You turned around to face him. His hands went to the button of his pants,  but couldn’t help but stare at the impressive bulge you knew well in his boxers.

"Come here," he says, his voice low and commanding. The candles flickered, casting soft shadows across your skin as you made love, the connection between you two more intense than ever before. Every touch, every whispered word felt like a promise—of love, of forever. Afterward, you lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies warm and content under the soft sheets. The sound of the ocean lulled you into a peaceful quiet, your heart still racing from the emotion of the evening. Jude brushed his fingers across your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours, full of a love so deep it felt infinite.

“Tonight was perfect,” you whispered, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But it’s only the beginning, angel. There’s so much more ahead of us.” And as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, the distant sound of laughter and the sea breeze filling the room, you knew he was right. This was just the start of a lifetime of perfect moments with him.

The morning Jude left for his away game as your fiancé felt heavier than usual. The air between you two was thick with the weight of separation. For days, you had been wrapped up in each other—barely giving one another an inch of space since the proposal in Greece, basking in the joy of your new future together. But now, it was time for him to leave, and neither of you was ready to part. You stood in the doorway of your Madrid apartment, watching as Jude packed his bag into the back of the car service waiting to take him to the airport. He moved slower than usual, as if stalling for time, and you couldn’t help the way your heart tugged painfully. You wanted so badly to go with him, but with your gallery opening in just a day time, it wasn’t possible.

“I hate this,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the engagement ring on your finger, a pout forming on your lips. You felt a little childish for it, but it didn’t matter. The thought of him being away even for a short time felt wrong now. Jude zipped his bag and turned, walking back over to you with a soft smile. His hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away the worry that was etched into your expression. 

“Angel,” he said, his voice soft but reassuring, “don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it. And soon I’ll be coming back home to you, as my wife, for the rest of my life.” Hearing Jude say that made your heart leap. ‘My wife.’ It sounded so surreal, so blissfully permanent. You felt a giddiness bubble up inside of you, like you were still that girl who had fallen for him—lucky that he had chosen you, out of everyone, to spend his life with.

“I know,” you whispered, pressing your hand over his on your cheek, leaning into his warmth. “But I’ll still miss you.” You cooed softly. He chuckled softly, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips. 

“I’ll miss you too. More than you know.” He replied gently. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trying to delay the inevitable, Jude sighed and pulled back. His hand slipped from your cheek, fingers brushing over your arm until they finally let go. He looked at you one last time, his eyes filled with love and the faintest trace of reluctance, before heading down the steps to the waiting car. You stood in the doorway, arms wrapped around yourself, watching as he got into the backseat. Your heart twisted painfully, and the urge to call him back rushed over you. But you knew he had to go, and now when he came back, it would be like he said—he’d be coming back to you, always, for the rest of his life. As the car began to pull away, Jude looked back at you through the window, his eyes locked on yours. You raised your hand, waving softly, your lips curved into a small pout. He smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the edges, and blew you a kiss from the window. You caught it playfully, pressing it to your lips before kissing your engagement ring, feeling the cool metal and diamonds against your skin like a reminder of the promise he made. As the car disappeared out the drive and around the corner, the world felt a little quieter, a little emptier. But in your heart, there was nothing but warmth. You knew that no matter where he went, he’d always come back to you.

The next day, you were sitting on the couch alone, you hugged your knees to your chest, the tension in the room mirroring the tight scoreline on the screen. It was the Champions League, and Madrid was locked in a 0-0 stalemate as the game ticked away, every passing second making you more nervous. Your chin rested on your knees, your eyes flicking between the screen and the clock, before you gave in and buried your forehead against your legs, too anxious to watch the final moments unfold. The commentators’ voices boomed through the speakers, heightening your sense of dread. Time was running out, and you couldn’t help but feel the nerves crawling through your skin. Then suddenly, you heard it—Bellingham, goal in the 92nd minute! Your head snapped up, eyes wide with disbelief. You blinked, and there he was, Jude, sprinting towards the corner flag, arms outstretched, his face lit up with a smile so wide it made your heart soar. The entire stadium erupted around him, but all you could focus on was the way he slowed down, kissed his ring finger, and pointed directly at the camera mouthing ‘for you angel.’ The same ring finger you had kissed when he left for the game. A celebration just for you.  A laugh bubbled up from your chest, a mixture of relief and joy. You felt the weight of the distance between you lift, just for a moment, as if he was there with you. The feeling of being apart, of missing him so deeply, faded in the glow of that moment. It was these little things—these private gestures in public spaces—that made everything feel so special. Your heart swelled with pride and love, knowing that even though you were miles apart, he was thinking of you, playing for you, celebrating for you. You smiled, biting your lip to stop yourself from tearing up, and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself, feeling that connection bridge the gap between you. Being apart was awful, but moments like this were everything.

You stood in the dimly lit bathroom of your gallery, staring at your reflection, your fingers lightly tracing the line of your lips. You were obsessing over the lip liner, not because it wasn’t perfect but because your nerves had nowhere else to go. The voices from the event, the clinking of glasses, and the hum of conversations drifted in from outside the door. Tonight was supposed to be about the art, about the work you had spent months curating. Yet, your mind felt scattered, your thoughts circling the fear that this night was about more than that now. You placed your hands on the sink, taking a deep breath, your mind trying to recall the details of every conversation you’d had in Spanish. Your fluency had improved, but with each person you greeted, each question about the pieces, you wondered if you were truly coming across as the confident curator you needed to be. The stakes were higher now—not just because it was your gallery’s opening but because of who was linked to it. The whispers about Jude, even without the public knowledge of the engagement, were loud enough. The gallery was packed, largely because of the buzz surrounding him, and you couldn’t ignore the quiet unease that settled in your stomach. How long before anyone noticed the ring? You stepped away from the mirror and made your way back into the gallery, scanning the room filled with guests mingling, admiring the artwork, sipping on wine. Your eyes darted to the pieces hanging on the walls, your heart swelling with pride for the artists you had chosen, their work beautifully capturing the space. But then, the inevitable—someone brought up Jude. They asked, with a sly smile, if he was attending. You smiled, deflecting, giving an answer you hoped would move the conversation back to the art. But your smile faltered as you felt a wave of loneliness. You loved this gallery. You loved what you had built. Yet tonight, you were walking a tightrope, balancing between your identity as an art curator and the person the public increasingly linked to Jude. It was a surreal feeling—exhilarating, yes, but also heavy, like the weight of his shadow sometimes loomed larger than your own.

You stood in the middle of it all, watching the conversations swirl around you, trying to take it all in, when you felt a pair of familiar hands slide around your waist. A shiver of warmth ran down your spine, and you leaned back instinctively into Jude’s chest, closing your eyes. He pulled you into him, his chin brushing your shoulder as his presence melted away the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding. He had flown back for this moment, for you. You tilted your head to look up at him, his face soft with affection, the stress and anxiety of the evening easing with just that one glance. Jude whispered something against your ear, his breath warm, and you could feel his smile as he squeezed your waist. It was like he knew exactly when you needed him most, and the relief that surged through you made your eyes sting. You blinked back the tears, not wanting anyone to see the mix of emotions flooding through you.

“You came,” you whispered, as if it were still hard to believe.

“Of course I did, angel” Jude said softly, his voice warm with sincerity. “I wasn’t going to miss this for the world. So proud of you.” His hands rested protectively on your waist, and as you turned to face him, your hand instinctively touched his cheek. The noise of the gallery dimmed, everything else faded as you stared into his eyes. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a shared knowledge that this moment, this life you were building together, meant more than what anyone else could see. Jude tilted his head, his lips brushing your forehead in a kiss, and suddenly, all the chatter about him, the weight of the public eye, felt distant. People might be buzzing about him, but you hoped they would notice your work, the art you had worked so hard to display. Yet, even with that thought, there was something undeniably comforting about his presence here. He wasn’t just a celebrity to you—he was Jude, the person who grounded you, who made you feel like you could conquer anything, whether in this gallery or in the quieter moments of your life. As he held you, you could feel the eyes of a few guests shifting toward you, perhaps wondering when you two would make your rounds together, but neither of you moved. You were content to stay wrapped up in his arms, soaking in the comfort of knowing that no matter how much attention the two of you garnered, this—his support, his love—was yours, and yours alone.

“Do you think anyone’s noticed, baby?” you asked, your voice low, as your fingers traced the outline of the engagement ring hidden beneath your sleeve. Jude chuckled softly, his lips grazing your ear. 

“Don’t know… Probably were too busy wondering if I was even going to show up.” You rolled your eyes but you grinned. "Nah, angel, they're here for the gallery... for your work, the artist. I think we're in the clear." He cooed gently reassuring you. You felt a flicker of pride at the secret still safe between you two. 

“Okay, good,” you said, glancing around the room. “Let’s keep it that way… at least for now.” You sheepishly told him

“For as long as you want.” Jude whispered as he kissed the top of your head. He squeezed your waist, and you felt the world slow down just a little. You were no longer standing in the gallery filled with eyes and whispers—you were standing in a quiet space with the person who mattered most, the person who had flown back just for you, and for this, your dream. The rest could wait.

The night of the Ballon d’Or ceremony had an electric charge to it, the kind of energy that makes your skin hum. You felt it from the moment you stepped out of the car with Jude, flashes from the cameras lighting up the Parisian evening like fireworks. You had dressed carefully, elegantly, and Jude couldn’t take his eyes off you from the second you stepped into the light. You were in an Attico dress they Jude almost ripped off you before you even left for the event. His gaze was all-consuming, making you feel simultaneously adored and exposed under the intense scrutiny of the media. The rumors had been swirling all over the internet for days—speculation about your engagement sparked by every subtle clue, from Jobe’s playful 'sister' comment in an interview to photos of Jude’s kissing hid ring finger after his goals. The fans were running wild with theories, and tonight, standing next to Jude on the red carpet, you knew it would only intensify. You could feel Jude’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist, guiding you through the sea of cameras and lights. He hadn’t stopped telling you how beautiful you were, how perfect you looked, but somehow, under the intensity of the moment, those words felt distant, like echoes. You tensed, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. The world was watching, and it wasn’t just about the football anymore; it was about you and Jude—your relationship, your life together, and possibly the engagement. 

“You look so beautiful, Angel. I’ve got you, don’t worry.” Jude whispered, sensing your nerves, he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. The warmth of his words melted some of the tension, and you exhaled, relaxing slightly into the protective embrace of his arm. Jude always had this way of making you feel safe, even when you were standing in front of hundreds of cameras. He’d told you the same thing countless times tonight, but in that moment, it was exactly what you needed to hear. You let yourself settle into his hold, leaning into him as the flashes continued, grounding yourself in his presence. You both knew the engagement might come up tonight. You’d talked about it beforehand—how if it came up, you wouldn’t deny it but you wouldn’t necessarily make a big announcement either. Yet as the interviews began and Jude stayed glued to your side, you felt the nerves rise again. His clinginess tonight felt different, more deliberate, like he was trying to shield you from the chaos of the evening while still being his charming, professional self. As you approached the press, the interviews, and the swarm of photographers, the anxiety crept back in. You could feel the weight of the rumors hanging in the air, just waiting to be confirmed or denied. The ring on your finger, though visible, the news of it still hidden from the public, suddenly felt heavy, like a secret barely kept. Jude, as always, seemed completely at ease. His confidence, the way he stood so tall next to you, hand protectively on your waist, made it seem like he was untouchable. But you knew him better than that. You could sense the nerves hiding behind the way his thumb absentmindedly rubbed small circles into your side. He was trying to comfort you, but it was clear he was anticipating something too. The interviews began, and you smiled politely, staying close to Jude, letting him go on.  Jude answered them with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before. But the interviewer, a sharp woman with a knowing smile, turned to you next. 

“Do you think Jude will win tonight?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. You smiled, shyly glancing at Jude, and replied, 

“I’m a little biased but no matter I'm really proud of the year he's had,” your voice light, leaning into him as he grinned down at you. Then, without missing a beat, the moment you didn’t expect—Jude’s voice, soft and casual, but with a confidence that made your heart stop.

“My fiancée is the best thing I’ve won this year,” he said with a smirk, his voice crackling in your ear, as the cameras around you captured every second. “But I’m honored to be nominated.” You froze for a split second, your heart racing as the words settled in. Your breath caught in your throat. The word “fiancée” echoed in your ears, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t even have time to react before he pressed a kiss to your temple, holding you even closer as the realization set in—not just for you, but for everyone around you. It felt like the air around you thickened, the weight of the moment sinking in with every flash of the cameras. Jude pressed a gentle kiss to your temple again, humming contentedly, completely unbothered by the reaction he’d just set off. And just like that, it was out. You could hear murmurs, see the widened eyes of the reporters, and feel the collective buzz from everyone around you. The rumors were no longer rumors. Jude had just confirmed it—effortlessly, casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. You were his fiancée. You blinked, turning slightly to meet his eyes, feeling a rush of emotion that made your knees a little weak. He squeezed your waist, that same reassuring smile on his face, as if to say, We’re in this together. The world might be watching, but all that mattered was the two of you, standing here, side by side.

The interviewer, visibly stunned, tried to recover, asking Jude a follow-up question, but the moment had already shifted. The attention wasn’t on his chances of winning anymore. It was on the two of you, standing there, side by side, no longer hiding the truth. Jude answered a few more questions, all while keeping you close, but the rest of the interview felt like a blur. You couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d just said—how natural it had been, how confident. He had called you his fiancée like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and suddenly, it was. The world knew now, and the weight of that realization settled over you in the best way possible. As the interview wrapped up and you moved through the rest of the evening, Jude never let go of you. Even when you sat down for dinner, surrounded by football royalty and celebrities, his hand remained intertwined with yours under the table. You glanced at him from time to time, still a little dazed by the enormity of the moment, but every time you did, he smiled at you, that same knowing smile that said, This is just the beginning.

And it was. The night continued, the awards were handed out, and even though Jude didn’t win the Ballon d’Or, it didn’t matter. He’d already won, and so had you. As you walked out of the ceremony, hand in hand, the buzz of the evening still swirling around you, you realized that the world had changed a little. You were no longer just Jude’s girlfriend—you were his fiancée, and the whole world knew it now. The rest of the night blurred after that moment, but you didn’t care. Jude had said it, and the truth was out there now. You were engaged. You were his. The joy you felt outweighed any nerves, and with Jude’s arm around you, you knew you could handle whatever came next.

The Ballon d’Or ceremony had already been a whirlwind, but nothing compared to the heart-pounding moment Jude declared to the world that you were his fiancée. You were still processing it, standing beside him on the red carpet, your hand resting on his chest as you leaned into his side. The heat of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat were the only things grounding you amid the chaos of camera flashes, reporters’ questions, and the weight of his revelation.  Your hand instinctively tightened around his, your fingers brushing over the ring. You turned to look at him, your eyes wide, still processing what had just happened earlier. Jude looked down at you, his smile soft but full of certainty. His gaze was unwavering, as if he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than you even realized.

The news of your engagement to Jude had ignited the internet, and while you tried to go about your normal routine, the world was already buzzing with excitement about your upcoming wedding. After the Ballon d’Or ceremony, life felt like it had been put under a magnifying glass. Every time you and Jude stepped out, people stared, speculating, photographing. And yet, despite all the attention, the little moments you shared in between—those felt like lifelines. You found yourself walking hand-in-hand with Jude through the heart of Madrid, the early afternoon sun casting a golden hue over the city. The two of you tried to stay low-key, just blending in with the crowd, but it was hard when the man beside you was Real Madrid’s biggest star. Still, Jude managed to make you feel like it was just the two of you, no cameras, no fanfare—just two people in love. As you passed by a Real Madrid FC store, Jude slowed to a stop, mischief in his eyes. 

“Angel, remember when I made you buy your first Madrid jersey?” he asked, grinning down at you. You laughed, nodding. It felt like a lifetime ago—back when you first arrived in Madrid. You’d gone into that same store, just entertaining Jude’s annoying teasing, but he had insisted. He wanted you to wear his name on your back, almost like a silent promise of what was to come.

“How could I forget? Those are fucking expensive especially considering you could’ve just given me one…” You rolled your eyes with a smile. He smirk, pulling you closer. 

“Well, I think it’s time for you to buy another.” He told you seriously.

“Huh? Why, baby?” You raised an eyebrow. You had plenty of Madrid jerseys now. Jude leaned down, his lips close to your ear, voice low. 

“Because I’m not just your favorite player anymore,” he whispered. “Now, I’m your favorite fiancée.” You couldn’t help but shake your head, though a smile tugged at your lips. The logic made no sense. You understood the sentiment but at this point you felt like that’s all you wore was a Bellingham jersey.

“You’re my only fiancée, Jude.” You corrected him with a kiss to his cheek. 

“That’s right,” he said, his hands on your waist, squeezing lightly. “And since Act II of our story has officially started, you need the right jersey to go with it. Not my girlfriend, need a fiance jersey... hmm?” His tone was playful, but there was something possessive in his gaze, something that made your heart race. You sighed dramatically but nodded, stepping out of his hold to walk into the store alone because you knew he couldn’t go with you. The inside was just as you remembered, bustling with fans excitedly grabbing their Bellingham #5 jerseys off the racks. It was surreal, watching people walk out with his name on their backs, and yet it still felt like he belonged to you in a way that no jersey or crowd could claim. You found the one you wanted and made your way back to him, holding it up with a playful smirk.

“Happy?” you asked, lifting the bag. “Act II can officially begin. My Bellingham jersey, just for you. My favorite player and my favorite fiance.” Jude’s laugh was warm, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he pulled you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“More than happy,” he murmured, his voice low and full of affection. “You’re not just my biggest fan, you know,” he said, pulling back slightly to meet your eyes. “You’re my best fan. My only fan.” There was a quiet intensity in his voice laced with playfulness and a possessiveness that made your heart skip a beat. His hands held you tighter, and you could feel the love radiating from him in waves. “Mine,” he added, and the word hung between you, carrying a weight that felt deeper than anything you’d ever experienced. You blushed, leaning into him, feeling like you’d burst with happiness. The bustling store, the busy Madrid streets, the noise of the world—it all faded into the background as you stood there in Jude’s arms, knowing that this was just the beginning of something even bigger, something that would always be yours and his.

“So once we share the last name I won't have to spend money on these anymore right?” You asked with a teasing glint in your eye. 

“What’s mine is yours.” He cooed with his arm around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel proud. Proud of him, proud of your relationship, and most of all, proud of the fact that the next chapter of your life would be written together.

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 The End 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Thank you for reading!

The series has officially come to a close. I really can't express how much I loved talking about this with anyone that has messaged. From. 'You're Mine' to Act II and all the one shots in between I feel like I've created a little world that I really hope readers enjoyed. <3

Please like, comment, or message what you think of the final chapter or the entire series!

[jupitersdescendant]

hi everyone, here we go again :)

today’s topic: what does your inner child want to share with you?

here’s how it works: close your eyes and meditate on the question for a little. if you feel ready, open your eyes and choose the pile you feel the most drawn to. it’s possible, that you’ll be attracted to more than one pile. please remember that this is a general reading so only take what resonates. this is for entertainment purposes only. lastly, tarot is only a guide, nothing is set in stone and at the end of the day you have the power over your own life.

art by john mccartin.

Pile 1

cards: ten of pentacles (rx), the magician (rx), two of swords. back of the deck: nine of cups (rx)

hii guys. you’re holding back (kind of a harsh start but i’m just rolling with what spirit is giving me). there’s potential in you that’s waiting to be unlocked. the problem is that you struggle to see your own potential and that hasn’t changed since your childhood. financial security is one of your biggest concerns and triggers since you probably had a rocky home life where money was tight. your inner child really wants you to appreciate how strong and resilient you are. this decks version of the magician depicts an infinity sign which i felt immediately drawn to. this again shows that you carry so much potential in you and whats so special about this is that yours is basically endless. i think you can pretty much succeed in anything that you really put your mind to. if you aren’t familiar with spirituality then this is your sign to see for yourself what your spiritual powers and intuition have in store for you. if you use your powers well and don’t get lost in selfishness then you could really bring a lot of good to the world. you or rather your inner child feels like it’s trapped under water, your hand is still gracing the surface but the rest of your body can’t seem to follow. through some childhood circumstances you learned to only depend on yourself and some of you probably often keep people from getting to close to you. i know that trusting others can be really hard and it seems like you had some bad experiences in the past but we as humans need a loving community to strive and survive. and to pull us out of the water ;) this doesn’t mean that you can’t do it alone nor that you should stop trying but it’s much easier to have a helping hand don’t you think? also, learn to feel your emotions, because bottling all that sh*t up won’t do you any good. if you’re scared of the bad ones try to find a good outlet for them, like running, dancing, writing everything down, boxing, just whatever you feel like doing, doesn’t need to be anything fancy. and don’t forget to be kind to yourself!

additional messages:

- be peaceful and take your time

- find ways to occupy yourself so you can regain your sense of self and find the gifts in the process at hand

- draw upon your inner strength and self belief

- you are more than capable of getting through what lies ahead

let me know if it resonates! have a great day/night 🖤

Pile 2

cards: the hierophant, the world, the sun (rx). back of the deck: king of pentacles.

hii! damn pile two your cards left me speechless with all the major arcana dropping out, same was the case for the cards i used to clarify. crazyy. i think your inner child is really proud of you since it looks like you’ve finally stepped into your own power and feel way more confident and comfortable in yourself. you’ve grown to be very wise and have strong morals and ethics. you’re being encouraged to fight for what you believe in. you’ll probably feel like you’re swimming against the current of everyone else but don’t let that hinder you. i just heard you’re being called to duty lol so do with that what you will. the cosmos is on your side, big time. if you have trouble believing in yourself then just know that the universe has your back and is waiting for you to come into full harmony with yourself. butterflys are a sign for you as well as all pink and orange tones, try to surround yourself with them for example through your clothes or flowers that you can put in a vase in your room because both colours could be really energetically pleasing to you. fear may be your worst enemy but don’t forget: it is still possible to move forward after stumbling. the thing that keeps letting the fear get the better of you is your wavering self confidence. some part of you -probably your hurt inner child- doesn’t believe that you have what it takes, which leads to you doubting yourself a lot. this goes hand in hand with fear of failure and procrastination (same dude). apart from doing some active work to comfort your inner child, you could try to find exercises to ground yourself. tanking some sunlight might be really beneficial to you as well as spending as much time as possible in nature. a simple walk in the park will help a lot. it’s really important that you connect to the earth and that you step into your own earth energy which embodies stability, groundedness, safety, growth and many more things :) some of you may even have prominent earth energy or earth dominance in your astrological birth chart. i think what you need to finally trust yourself more and to experience a state of inner peace are the things i mentioned above as well as self acceptance and self love. you have what it takes but will need to believe and love yourself through all of it.

additional messages:

- most fears are learned at a young age, tune into them and determine if they are rational

- visualise positive success as you work through your fears

- physical activity helps to reduce excessive energy related to fear and stress

- stand your ground and stick with your beliefs

- for grounding: plant both feet firmly on the ground, take a deep breath down to your belly and calm your mind, feel the connection between your feet and the earth and imagine yourself feeling calm, centred and grounded

let me know if it resonates! have a great day/night 🖤

Pile 3

cards: the sun (rx), queen of cups (rx), judgement. back of the deck: four of pentacles (rx)

hi guys! the first impression i got was that you probably didn’t have the happiest of childhoods and have wounds that haven’t healed yet. your hurt inner child is still very present in your thoughts and behaviours. you have a hard time letting things go that no longer serve you. it is time to distance yourself from this, wether that’s some bad habits, a job or maybe even people who you interact with often. it’s very important for you to let go of your pessimistic views since this often leads to negative self talk real quick. you’re very insecure and struggle a lot with your self image. this leads to you feeling very hurt and uncomfortable in your own skin. honey, there’s simply no need for that. whoever told you that you’re not great the way you are and didn’t appreciate whatever body and face your blessed with, is simply a d*ck (if they’re still in your life then please and kindly drop them immediately). loving one’s body is really hard, especially for women when capitalism wants to make sure that that never ever happens because then we’d stop buying all these useless products to “enhance” our appearance and be deemed as a threat. i’m here to tell you: be the threat lol. self love is freaking hard but i strongly believe in you. progress will be slow and also kind of excruciating as well but moving forward, at whatever pace that may be, is always better than not moving at all. i think you’ll soon be ending a cycle. now it is time to meet yourself with kindness and patience. take the chance to focus on yourself since your relationship with you should be your biggest priority right now. sometimes its more than okay to be a little selfish because at the end of the day the person that’ll be your side forever is you, so make it count :) doing things for you and maybe only by yourself is always a good way to appreciate oneself more. travel could really uplift your spirits, even a short trip can be sufficient or exploring a new part of the city you may live in. moving around in general and in whatever way that comes to mind will be beneficial. you got this!

additional messages:

- take the opportunity to objectively observe how you communicate

- always incorporate respect and receptivity when talking to yourself and others

- if you’re being to hard on yourself, tone it down

- love yourself more and see what you can achieve with a new approach

- the sailfish is currently a big symbol for you since you -like them- have the ability to shake of negative energy

let me know if it resonates! have a great day/night 🖤

Pile 4

cards: page of pentacles, king of cups, ace of swords (rx). back of the deck: eight of pentacles.

hii! your inner child wants you to be more accepting of them and to show you that you can achieve your best work when you’re both working together. honestly, it felt like you as well as your inner child are hard to get a read on. you seem very secretive. as a child you probably didn’t have a lot of friends and you’ve been keeping to yourself ever since. for a long time you were very sure that you’re a lone wolf and that you’re better off alone. i’m here to tell you that that’s not the case. if you’ve felt drawn to pile one there might be some messages there as well. your energy feels very grounded and calming but you may have the habit of overworking yourself so that you can keep these feelings of loneliness from resurfacing. i think that deep down you crave emotional intimacy. you want and need to exchange your thoughts and feelings with others but you’re scared to do so. being scared is normal and nothing to be ashamed of as long as it isn’t making you unhappy. maybe it doesn’t feel like it yet but you’re inner child wants you to know that change is on the horizon. of course you’ll have to put some effort in as well but i think you’re slowly awakening to your inner truth. when you start to make it clear to yourself that there will be people who’ll be so grateful to have you in their life with all that makes you you, then there’s nothing stopping you anymore. i think you spent way too much time in your head, hence your need to distract yourself. exchange with others is so important since it will help you feel less alone with your thoughts. once we’re overthinking we’re basically just spiralling into driving ourselves crazy, which is why sharing what’s on your mind can be so very helpful and freeing. the opinions from others as well as their advice can help us see things from a different perspective and can pull us out of those overwhelming thoughts. just knowing you have someone you can talk to is a relieve in itself. it seems like you want to prove to yourself that you’re very secretive by nature which might still be true, though you use this to legitimise your withdrawal from others. i’m begging you, for your own wellbeing, open yourself up. it will only get harder the longer you avoid doing it. you bring a lot to the table and others will be so happy to know you, believe me. i actually think that you’re very knowledgeable and that when you share this side with others it can be very fulfilling. use your creative side and hobbies to connect to others since this could come naturally to you.

additional messages:

- you’re entering an energetic phase in your life

- have faith for the long term and trust the universe

- it is necessary to trust that your dreams are possible

- put aside any preconceptions and allow yourself to imagine a new approach to your situation

- surrounding yourself with things that glitter may help you feel more energetically pleased

let me know if it resonates! have a great day/night 🖤

🔮 thanks a lot for reading 🔮

[stay-dazed]

hyunjin...

grew up an only child so he took jeongin in as his little brother when they were trainees.

held jisung as he cried after their first ever win, despite their rocky relationship in the beginning.

loves his pets so dearly, he wrote a song for a puppy that passed titled 'little star'.

has the counseling center to listen to stay's worries and give them advice as best as he can in both korean and english. "i will always pray for you," he said.

reads books like pride and prejudice, and watches movies like the notebook and notting hill.

despite being loud at times, is introverted and appreciates his time alone.

signed "i love you" on a fancall with a stay who he mistook as deaf, and donated to charities that help deaf/hard of hearing people.

is open about his flaws, once admitting to being greedy and yearning for more accomplishments in an interview.

considers dance to be another language he speaks.

apologized to and thanked his mom after realizing how hard it can be taking care of a baby for even just a day.

is in love with the idea of eternal love, named himself "love" on bubble once, coined the term "love stay", and believes love is a promise until death.

was a curious child and tried so many different hobbies and challenges to see what it was like.

has an abstract art style, whether it's painting/sketching, journaling, pottery, etc.

laughs explosively and acts unapologetically dramatic.

wears whatever he likes, even if the styles vary each time.

travels the world, taking photos of places and people he wants to capture forever, including his members.

loves eating his favorite foods so much, his face scrunches up in an almost sad expression.

visits art museums/exhibits wherever he travels to on tour, sometimes alone, sometimes with his members.

wanted to be an interior designer before becoming a musical artist.

choreographs his own interpretative dances. dancing in the dark with the music blasting and sweat flying everywhere, as seungmin once noted.

looks at stay during concerts as if they put the stars in the sky.

cried and begged stay to never leave their side.

expresses his beautiful mind through his words: “i don’t think we love and wish with good outcomes in mind. maybe it’s because i don’t really like calculating.” “when looking for a moment, [shooting stars] are pretty. the corners of my mouth turn upwards.” “happiness can’t last forever but it’s such a waste to pass up. i hope you can be happy, even for just a moment.” “i trust easily, get hurt easily, regret easily, and repeat all over again. isn’t that why people live?” “i may not be able to help you, but i support you. i hope the day will come when i become the source of strength of all those who eat random thoughts as a late night snack.” “you have to find happiness in everyday life. if you look for it in ideals, it becomes nothing more than an illusion, so you end up falling into pity.”

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

No Mer is An Island

I didn't go out intending to revisit @monsoon-of-art's Mer AU this month, but seeing this piece in full really hit on something, and I had to get the words down. Happy MerMay, guys!

---

When they’d first met, the girl had stopped him to say that he looked kind of like someone she knew.

Given that Emmet had come all this way trying to find his brother, it sounded promising on its face, but looking past the initial wording, revealed itself to be a shallow hope. If she’d been talking about Ingo, she would have been more decisive. He wouldn’t look kind of like this person, but exactly. He’d been through the cycle of leads surfacing and then sinking often enough to know that the odds weren’t good, but it was the best he’d heard since arriving in Hisui and he couldn’t afford not to give it some cursory exploration.

As they moved away from the shaky hope of a rebuilding village, her story became more and more outlandish, but… somehow not less believable; unprompted, she’d mentioned the torn remnants of a subway car, and in a land that lacked rail transport, it lent her version of events a great deal of credence. Something much more worrisome was the claim that his twin had been found pinned beneath the wreck, trapped and slowly wasting away, before being discovered.

It was strange. When, inevitably, Emmet’s questions about a missing person failed, his next strategy was always the train car. People could move on and be forgotten, but an effigy of twisted metal should have been noteworthy.

The matter of physical resemblances had been both explained and complicated as Dawn led them to a rocky outcropping by the sea.

“Well, that’s… why I wasn’t totally sure at first.” She said, scouring the horizon. Eventually, her attention settled in one specific direction, and Emmet idly followed it to a dark little island in the distance. “The thing is, the parts of you that look the same totally look the same. It’s just that Ingo’s… not really human?”

...what.

She held her hands up in placation, grimacing at her own words. “I know, I know. Just hear me out. So the Pearl Clan found him under that big wreck and took him home to heal, only he… kind of sucks at being a merperson? The same ways I suck at it. We both keep getting hung up when we swim, and neither of us distrusted humans the way the other mers did, and you couldn’t pay us to eat raw fish or seagulls or anything like that. I've been wondering about it for a long time, but maybe Ingo was human, too?”

There was a ringing in Emmet’s ears. It took him a moment to realize that it was an actual sound coming from somewhere over the water. Something in the back of his head told him he should recognize it, but it seemed unimportant compared to the information Dawn had just dumped over his head.

“That is my brother’s name.” He eventually choked out, to the exclusion of the rest of it.

Dawn’s expression cracked into a smile. “Worth a shot! I’ll go grab him and come back-- just don’t worry, okay? Most people think he’s kind of scary.”

Despite the amount of time it had been since he’d had to field that particular criticism, Emmet felt himself bristle. “He cannot help it. His face is just like that.”

The girl paused in the middle of digging through her bag and tilted her head, “I thought it was just because he always seems kind of down, but that makes sense, too.”

Unsure what to say to that, Emmet remained silent as she took something out, unlashed the satchel from around her waist, and then brought a vibrant shell to her lips.

The notes resonated, briefly, with whatever it was coming from across the waves.

“What is that?”

“It’s a special flute,” Dawn said, adjusting her grip on it now that she was no longer playing, “I’ve had it since I got here, but I can’t remember why.”

“Not the instrument. The sound. What is causing it?”

“The… flute?” She asked, baffled, and slapped her tail against the rocks.

It took a second for Emmet to rewind and process that fact.

She had implied that before, hadn’t she? Back when she’d confirmed Ingo’s name. Strange how one piece of information could be so much more pertinent than the rest and simultaneously so much less important.

Emmet consciously had to rein himself in. If humans could turn into merpeople, this could be it. He might be about to see his twin for the first time in years.

Dawn departed shortly thereafter, handing him the flute as a gesture of goodwill, and took off in the direction she’d originally scouted. Emmet pocketed the strange shell for safekeeping and then moved her satchel to somewhere the waves couldn’t sweep it away.

The sound continued that entire time, carried from somewhere far away. When several minutes passed without interruption, he finally figured out what it was: whale song. He didn’t profess to be an expert in the matter, but now that he was listening properly, he was relatively certain of that.

After some time, it stopped, and he immediately found that he missed it.

In its absence, he returned to the water’s edge, wondering if the dark island in the distance wasn’t where Dawn was headed, where his brother lingered. It seemed too much to think that he might catch a glimpse of either when it was so far away, but the reassurance would be welcome. He had little doubt that Dawn would return, particularly given that he held the key to her humanity, but the low crooning over the water proved that there were predators about, and he wouldn’t want haste to lead her into danger.

When he scanned the ocean, however, he found that the island, too, had vanished.

---

Ingo spent a great deal of his time alone.

It was by choice, but at times, it also felt involuntary.

The Pearl clan was more gracious than he could have asked for, worried that his continued stints on his own might reignite the loneliness that had left him so fragile upon their first meeting; while he was happy for their company, it wasn’t what he was missing. That was the problem, though: he didn’t know what would fill the void in his heart. Their camaraderie was close-- had been rejuvenating when he’d first been ushered into the fold-- but only to a point. He felt that it was the right track, just veering ever so slightly off course; if he could figure out where his destination lay, he could course correct to reach it.

It had been years, though, and while he was no longer soul-sick, the ache of it refused to leave him.

When it became too much to bear, he would leave for the surface, to float on his back and close his eyes. The ocean air had become familiar, but it went deeper than that, the churning sea so close to making a connection somewhere in the recesses of his being. He was put in the mind of the artificial reef he’d awoken in-- pinned, scared and without a trace of memory-- but had no idea how they could be related. More than anyone, he knew how heavy the construct was; it seemed wholly antithetical to the gentle rocking that only occurred above the waterline.

Frustrated with his lack of progress, but not surprised, he let out a heavy sigh and pitched it halfway through, low in his throat. He didn’t know what purpose this ability served, as none of the other merfolk could hear when he dipped into this range, but it was cathartic; he could cry for the fact that the clan had been so kind, so welcoming, and he still didn’t belong. He could lament that there was something wrong with him, that he still felt sickness in between the beating of his heart, and he feared he would never escape it.

He could admit, in tones no one would ever hear, that he didn’t know how much longer he could bear the solitude before it consumed him whole.

Though he knew perfectly well that she was unable to parse his voice like this, it died in his throat as Dawn poked her head up from the waves. Unwilling to have a conversation with her in such an undignified position, he turned over and dipped back below the water so they could speak properly.

“Is rebuilding going well?” He asked, following up from the last topic they’d touched upon, “Has there been any recovering from the salt water?”

The humans weren’t bad, he knew-- and had known for as long as he could recall-- they were just scared. For as disastrous as the region’s flooding had been, the one silver lining was that it had given the clans cause to cooperate with the villagers and, slowly, the merfolk were beginning to make progress. He couldn’t be certain how the humans looked upon the situation, but they accepted aid, at least, and that was something.

“It’s...” There was a conspicuous pause. “Going. That’s not why I came to talk, actually.”

“No?” He asked, unable to find it in himself to be surprised. Dawn was like the sea itself at times, ever shifting, just shy of capricious.

“No. I don’t want to jump the gun or anything, but I think I met someone who knew you before! He’s waiting for us at the bluff.”

He blinked at her, the words sitting at the surface of his thoughts for several seconds before sinking in, “What makes you believe that this individual and I share any sort of connection? I don’t mean to cast doubt, but if even I’m unable to say with any certainty...”

“He was looking for someone called Ingo.” She said, and while there was a twitch of her tail that suggested it wasn’t the whole truth, Ingo was too caught up in that declaration to catch it. “He looks like you, too. A scary amount.”

“He’s also an orca?” It might be nice, he thought, to physically be on the same level as someone for a change-- unmarked as the odd man out in this regard, on top of everything else that made him feel so detached from the clan.

“Well… no, it’s mostly in the face. But your coats are basically the same!”

Interesting. That, more than anything else, lent credence to her theory. As strongly as he felt about his name, his complete lack of any other personal details meant that he couldn’t be entirely sure it was what he’d used prior to waking up beneath the ruins. The fact that this person was seeking someone of the same name was noteworthy, but not conclusive. The resemblance was also compelling, but could be explained by a mimic octopus or the like.

His clothes, however, had been a subject of bewilderment among the clan for some time. Drag caused his coat to hinder his movement and speed, and it was constantly becoming caught on bits of rock or other hazards. His hat was somewhat more practical, helping him see above the water on bright days, but beneath the waves, all it did was threaten to fly away if caught in the mildest of currents. Even if this was a misunderstanding and Dawn’s contact didn’t know of him, perhaps he could ask what the utility was.

“I see.” He narrowly refrained from breathing it out as a sigh; there was little use in speculating if confirmation or denial really was so near, “If he’s waiting, we ought not to leave him at the station. Are you ready to depart for the Clamberclaw Bluffs?”

Dawn took him by the forefinger and smiled at him-- and where he occasionally saw a flash of pity in it, there was nothing but anticipation.

“Let’s go!” She said, tugging him forward, a current all her own.

Ingo allowed it to happen, allowed her to be the force driving his tired cab onward. Maybe, when they reached their destination, there would be someone there to meet it.

---

The first indication that Emmet was no longer alone on the rocky outcropping was Dawn hefting herself up onto the edge with the grace of someone still adjusting to that specific workout. He refrained from commenting on that fact both because he liked to think himself polite and because something else stole his attention away shortly thereafter.

Offset from where she’d appeared, the water warped unnaturally, and it took a second for him to realize that it was because it was something else was surfacing, something massive enough to distort the water as it rose.

“Oh,” Said his brother’s voice, loud as one of his directing calls whilst somehow maintaining a sort of gentle surprise, “You’re human.”

Even though he’d been warned as much, as he blinked upwards, trying to process the reality he’d found himself living, he said, “You’re… not.”

“Was… was I supposed to be?” Ingo turned his head as he said it, a hand curling to rest against his lips-- and it was so achingly familiar that, for just a second, it was possible to overlook the fact that his forearm had to be longer than Emmet’s full height.

“Yes?” He half-asked, trying to keep his expression from dipping into anything too ridiculous in his incredulity, “To my knowledge, identical siblings are usually the same species.”

The animate half of Ingo’s face scrunched, puzzled, and he leaned over on his arms to put them on the same level. He spent several seconds silently assessing Emmet, before returning with, “We do look quite similar, don’t we?”

“Identical.” Emmet repeated, insistent, and he couldn’t keep his voice from crackling on it, “We are-- we’re supposed to be identical twins.”

“And I take it from your response that you were never an orca?” His brother said, a little helplessly.

“No.” At that, however, he stepped forward, emboldened both by the certainty that this was somehow his missing twin-- all but confirming that he had never been in any danger-- and a suddenly-consuming curiosity.

Ingo watched his approach, but did nothing to stop him. The only movement was that of one enormous, clawed hand tucking itself into the tattered remains of the opposite sleeve and, abruptly, Emmet realized he was still wearing his uniform’s hat and coat. The hat and coat that had been commissioned in tandem with the ones Emmet wore right now. Emmet, who was notably human-sized.

How?

The nearer he drew, the more clearly he could make out the black mass in the water beyond, a shadow that stretched and curved into an undeniably fish-shaped tail, floating just high enough for a dorsal fin to cut through the surface.

With a new clarity, he looked up, taking in the black patches that both camouflaged the actual lines under his brother’s eyes and made his weariness look orders worse, and asked, “Was the whale song your doing?”

The too-pale skin of Ingo’s face went faintly pink. “You were able to hear that?”

Emmet felt his face crack into a grin, “You are not quiet.”

“No, no, you misunderstand,” He tried, though the flush only intensified at the comment, “The frequency is inaudible to the other merfolk. I didn’t think anyone else was physically able to hear it.”

“Wait,” Said a mildly-familiar voice and, with a start, Emmet remembered they weren’t alone, “Is that what you’re doing when you float on the surface like a dead fish? You’re just screaming into the sky?”

“That is-- no. Not in the slightest!”

“If he yelled, you would know. Even as a human.” The commentary earned him a downward glance through narrowed eyes.

“Regardless,” Ingo said, transparently trying to get them back on a track that didn’t lead to further teasing, “I’m surprised that you were able to discern it without being a mer yourself.”

Emmet hummed, considering that, and then turned his head. “I’m not. Other people cannot read your face, but I can. It makes sense that I can understand you now, too.”

“Because you’re… my twin brother.” Ingo said haltingly, testing the words for himself as if to see if they were any more convincing in his own voice.

Emmet smiled, though not without an edge of melancholy, letting him reach a conclusion in his own time. That wasn’t disbelief, he knew, but it was plain to see how lost his brother was, and hurrying him wouldn’t help.

He wouldn’t push, but… but maybe it would be okay to make sure this was real, that he hadn’t hit his head upon arriving in Hisui and managed to fool himself into thinking this might finally be it.

Holding one hand up to indicate a lack of aggression-- as if something so small could do anything to hurt someone with the proportions of a killer whale-- he took a tentative, questioning step forward and asked, “Can I touch?”

Ingo blinked at him, focused momentarily on his palm, and then back on his face. In lieu of an answer, he rested his head on his arms in full, putting himself in range to reach more comfortably. His bright, bright eyes tracked the motion until he couldn’t any longer, and he breathed out, slow and impossibly long.

The skin beneath Emmet’s hand was dark, the stripe of it trailing up to a floppy ear and down below the line of a collar, but still warm and still undeniably human. He’d half expected it to feel rubbery under his touch, but the biggest difference was the subtle grit of drying salt. He was reminded intensely of the summer their family visited the Decolore Islands and specifically of when, as a joke, he’d tried to push his brother into the water, only for Ingo to clutch his hand that much more tightly and send the both of them tumbling in. Having to go on in wet clothes had been bad enough until they began to dry, contrasting outfits stiff with the residual salt on their persons. As children, it had been unbearable. He could only hope it didn’t itch the same way, now.

He only realized he’d spaced out at the renewed rumble as his twin began to speak again, “--not sure. Are you still with us, Emmet?”

For a second, he froze in place, and then drew his hand back, breaking out into an unburdened smile. Beaming up at his brother, he said, “Ingoooooo, I never told you my name.”

Ingo’s brow furrowed as he mentally played the conversation back, and then he glanced to Dawn, who held her hands up and shook her head. When that failed to yield any plausible explanation, his gaze flitted back over to Emmet, uncertain, as if he’d done something wrong.

“It’s good!” Emmet said before his twin could start to reverse down the tracks, “I do not know what happened, but you’re still you. That is all that matters to me.”

As quietly as he was physically capable of with such robust lungs, Ingo repeated “My brother,” to himself, already coming to terms with the idea, and Emmet stepped forward again.

He leaned into his twin’s shoulder, heedless of the water that immediately soaked through his coat, and, as best he could, pressed the side of his face to Ingo’s. Against his own side, he felt a pulse speed up, powered by a heart that was finally large enough to match the outpouring of love its owner had always put into the world.

A hand moved to cradle his back, painstaking in the care behind it, and within two beats of that massive heart, the whale song began anew.

[ultralightpoe]

In The Deck - Patrick Zweig

Authors Note: Part 6 of my Halloween Event! I have never written for this character before so I hope you enjoy the blurb!

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 791

Requests: OPEN

~2024 Halloween Event Masterlist

[Thank you for the gif @blood-stained-razorblades ]

ENJOY!

“This is ridiculous.” He huffs, pacing back and forth in the room as you spread out your deck on the floor with a calm ease. He had been pacing non stop since he came into your room, without knocking which had annoyed you to no end.  “What bullshit.”

“Patrick.” You huff, keeping your eyes closed as you roam your fingers over the edges of the card. “You can’t storm in here and ruin my energy-”

“Ruin your energy?” He repeats with a small mocking laugh as he keeps pacing before you feel him stop in front of your deck. “What are you doing?”

“Currently?” You smile, feeling your own eyebrow raise. “Wishing I could stab you.”

You hear a breathy laugh before a small amount of movement tells you he is sitting criss-crossed in front of you. “And with the cards?”

“I’m trying to read tarot.”

“For what?”

“It’s my ritual.”

“Your ritual?” And the second he asks you ,give up and open your eyes to glare, fully annoyed now. 

“Yes. My ritual. You stretch before a match and I read my deck before my day.” You laugh, pulling in the deck to restart.

“Read mine then.”

“Patrick. Come on.”

“No, please. Practice got canceled and I have nothing before the game later. I want you to read my deck….. Please.”

It had been a rocky road with Patrick, especially when Tashi had been involved and you had always managed to keep him at arms length in order to protect yourself from him. It had been months of friends with benefits and you knew that you were right on the edge of falling just as you always had been, but you couldn’t take the risk of doing so when you couldn’t trust him.

But then he gives you those puppy dog eyes, and you grow concerned that you will mistake that look for something more when you know there isn’t.

“Fine.” You huff, reshuffling the deck and splaying it out as he inches forward in attempt to make contact with your knees. “Ask me a question.”

“Will I win my match today.”

“No. Ask a better question.”

“Fine. How will my match today go?” He tries again which makes you roll your eyes and attempt to glare at him before he leans forward to peck your lips. 

“Pick a card.”

“Pick a card, any card.” He laughs, biting at his lip before pulling a card. 

“Six of wands, good.”

“Is it?”

“It represents victory, reaping it’s reward.” You lay it out for him, your finger tracing the card before getting back to business. 

“How is Art doing?”

“Wrong, this isn’t Arts deck.”

“Okay, How do I ask then?”

“What does Art think about you? What is Art thinking about your friendship?”

“Oh, go with the second.”

“Then you have to-”

“Pick a card, any card.” He smiles, grabbing one from the middle. You grab it easily and your gut tightens as you see it. 

“Ten of swords, he thinks of betrayal. He believes you breached his trust, he suspects or knows of infidelity.” 

“Ouch.”

“Very. Next.”

“What does the girl I love think of me?” He asks, picking a card before you have to remind him to do so, but as he rushes to do it he manages to pick up two. 

“The lovers card and the nine of swords.”

“Which means?”

“She loves you, it’s passionate, but she worries. The nine of swords symbolizes negative thoughts and worries. It’s self-inflicted.” You explain, trying to picture Tashi with any of these traits.

“Are they accurate?” He asks, leaning forward. 

“How would I know if these are accurate to Tash-”

“What? I was asking about you?” He laughs, snatching the cards from you and admiring them. “What self inflicted negative thoughts do you have?”

And then he looks up, and gives you the most soul punching look you had ever seen. 

“That I can’t trust you.” You blurt, watching as he leans forward slowly.

“Then how do I get you to trust me?”

“I don’t know.” You whisper and he shakes his head. 

“I was asking the deck.” And then he holds up the card he chose. 

“Wheel of fortune.”

“If that means we watch wheel of fortune all day then I’m in.” 

“It means to accept change.” You smile, watching him admire all the cards before shaking his head. “What’s the problem?” “I think we are going to have to do this every match day.”

“Not a chance in hell-” But before you can finish your complaint he launches forward to kiss you deeply, making sure not to crinkle any of the cards. 

He helps you pack them up, helping you pack up so you can head to the game together.

-

[Thank you for the gif @sophia-becketts ]

[captainai-47]

I found your blog recently scrolling down the obey me Lucifer tag and I believe I’ve realized an undeniable truth; I absolutely ADORE your MC.

Though, as I am sort of in an unexpected time crunch for the next few days, I don’t have any time to officially take the time and read your posts about your MC (lore). I’d love to get into it! It is genuinely different and I’m invested, truly.

If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother, would you run me over the basic lore of your MC? I’m genuinely obsessed. She looks so badass 😳

I have so many questions!

Why is she called an “Agent”?

Is she a high ranking one?

Does she have an agency she reports to?

What’s her full situation with Lucifer?

Does her work get in the way of anything?

What’s her personality?

Ah! I have so many questions I can’t even put them all down 😓

I also want to know about her demon form too! (I’m also pretty sure I caught wind of a monster form, too 👀)

Although you probably already know who I am, most likely considering your activity notifs, I’d still like to ask anonymously.

I really hope to see more of your MC ☺️

(Sorry for making such a long ask. Forgive me for any errors…)

Awwww stop! You making me twirling my hair 🤭🤭. I actually really enjoy it when people ask questions about my Oc! It really makes me happy when others think that my silly creations are intriguing enough to warrant attention :)))

As for some of your questions My Oc Masterlist may be able to answer your questions! Lore art is currently under works! But I highly encourage you to ask for more if you have the time ^^❤️ My twitter Acc contains a lot of scenarios and even hc lists that I have not mentioned here so feel free to check (But only for 🔞 individuals. My Twitter acc is more mature content compared here)

Here’s some that I haven’t explained yet:

What’s her full situation with Lucifer? ➡️ Currently? She’s very, madly, downbadly in love with him. SHES SMITTEN despite their rocky start in the S1 OG! Obm.

Does her work get in the way of anything? ➡️ It does. She is actually homeschooled and even has like a special excuse slips in RAD whenever there’s an emergency mission. She regularly goes in and out of the Devildom and into the human realm to do her work.

Personality ➡️ She’s calm and gentle to the one’s she is close with but in terms of her work as an Agent? Very reckless and even egotistical

[artemismoorea03]

Protective Urge (Chirp pt 2)

Yet another super fun collab between @monkiebois and I! This time we went more where each of us wrote parts of the story so the writing style shifts part way. I might edit this post later and change the word colors so people can tell who wrote what parts but I think the shift is already pretty easy to tell. IAnyways, this one is a bit less fluffy and has some minor violence. :D

I hope you all enjoy! Please check out @monkiebois profile to see some of their amazing art and works if you haven’t already!

This will also be posted on A03 under the same name :D

Sun Wukong tried to keep his 'issues' close to the vest. He didn't like to burden, bother, or worry others with his shortcomings, anxieties, and past mistakes. Though, it seemed like after he got a successor that's all he could think about.

The friends he had lost.

The friend he had killed.

The pain he caused others.

The headaches he occasionally still felt.

It was hard not to think about all of the things he had done wrong. The people he had hurt. The people who had hurt him. But the things he tried not to think about most was how his mistakes would affect MK in the future. He tried not to dwell on the fact that more people from his past would come to try and hurt MK in the future.

Macaque had been proof of that.

Sure, the kid claimed that Macaque was his friend. That Macaque helped save the day - which, yeah, Wukong had seen for himself but he still didn't believe it was out of the 'goodness of his heart' - and had made up for everything he did wrong. But none of that was Macaque.

Macaque wasn't the type of person who just did something because it was the 'right thing to do'. He was the type of greedy, self-centered and cold bastard that he had always been.

Those thoughts were only cemented by a phone call he got from Pigsy one fateful Friday. (Why he let MK convince him to give his number out to Pigsy and Sandy he would never remember.)

He didn't even get a chance to say "hello" before Pigsy's frantic voice asked.

"Where does Macaque live?!"

Wukong blinked in surprise. "Probably a dumpster somewhere." He said.

"Don't joke with me, Wukong! This is serious. He has the kid!"

Suddenly any other jokes he could have considered making were gone and replaced with panic. Wukong’s fur bristled slightly, his tail lashing as he got to his feet and walked out of his shrine.

"What happened?"

"No idea. I got a picture of MK… asleep? Unconscious? I can't tell but Macaque’s stupid scarf is in the photo and is the only clue we have to go on other than a message that says 'MK is mine now. He wont be coming back tonight.' With a stupid fuckin smiley face at the end of it!"

Wukong growled, mentally racking his brain to try and remember where MK had mentioned seeing Macaque in the past. All he could think about though was that damn rocky area they’d fought in! But if MK had been training with Macaque for a while he had to be training with him away from prying eyes. Plus MK had mentioned something about a play? So maybe a park? Though Macaque hardly seemed the park type… was there a different kind of ‘play’?

“Where was the kid last?” Wukong asked, jumping onto a cloud as it shot through the Water Curtain Cave, the waterfall opening just long enough for Wukong to slip out and fly towards the city of Megapolis.

“A delivery, when I got the message I sent Mei to the drop off. She found the tuk-tuk, signs of fight, and blood but no sign of the kid.”

Blood.

Macaque had hurt his kid hard enough to make him bleed?! 

He clenched his fist, letting out a snarl. “We’ll find him. MK mentioned a ‘play’ once. What is it?”

“The Shadow Play! Tang, text Mei and tell her to check the theater. Also, message Sandy, he mentioned the other day that he saw Macaque near the pier. He might be living in the area.”

Shadow play.

His rage faltered for a second, his heart squeezing as he remembered the first time Macaque showed him his abilities. He had been so small, shy and quiet. He wasn’t one to speak out of turn and often just observed but that didn’t mean that Macaque wasn’t one of the first to point out when Wukong was being dumb. Wukong had respected that a lot and liked that he had somebody he could count on to call him out on his bullshit.

It’s why Wukong felt so drawn to Macaque in the first place, and insisted on spending time with him over many others. Perhaps that was part of the reason that Macaque let him watch the first time he used his shadows to put on a puppet show for the infants of the Troupe. From there Wukong got to watch as the stories that he told at dinners and parties were retold with shadows to the younger generation.

Was he still telling Wukong’s stories or was he telling his own stories now?

Wukong shook his head as he poured on the speed, getting closer to the city as he activated his gold vision and scanned the horizon. He couldn’t waste time caring about if Macaque liked telling stories still or not. Not when Macaque had his successor and had hurt him. If he got caught up in the past now then he wouldn’t be able to do what he needed to do in the present.

He just hoped MK would forgive him for whatever he had to do next.

“Monkey King, you there?” Pigsy asked and Wukong jumped slightly.

“Yeah, I’m here. Listen, I’ll call you if I find him. Please do the same.”

“Of course. Watch your back, Monkey King. This could be a trap.”

“Yep.” Wukong said, then hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

Was this a trap? But if it was then why did Macaque only message Pigsy? Surely if it was a trap he would have just used MK’s phone to send him a message instead, right? Unless he was trying to capture the entire group and use them all as bait for Wukong? Honestly, knowing Macaque, that was completely possible.

He spotted Sandy on the pier walking around and decided to land. If Pigsy was right about Sandy seeing Macaque in the area then it would be best to start with them and go from there. When he got close enough to the pier he dispersed the somersault cloud then jumped onto the ground near Sandy who jumped, but then smiled.

“Oh, hey, Mr. Monkey King.”

“Hey.” Wukong replied, it always caught him off guard how much Sandy felt like Sha Wujing (he knew why he did but still). “Pigsy said you saw Macaque around here?”

Sandy nodded, “I did! Only a glimpse of him heading that way.” He said, pointing further down the pier. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to him but when I told MK about it later that day he said ‘he’s finally home, maybe now I can talk to him!’ then ran in that same direction.”

Wukong glared down the pier and began to walk. “‘Home’ huh? So he must be crashing somewhere around here. Any ideas where?”

Sandy walked along side him, the blue cat that was always with him - Mo? - was walking in front of them, sniffing the air. “There’s a bunch of abandoned buildings in the area, but a few were recently purchased.” He hummed with thought, “You know, there was a building that was being used as a Dojo for a while, but I haven’t seen it active since the Lady Bone Demon incident.”

“That’s it. Can you show me where?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Monkey King! Follow me!”

They walked further down the pier until they reached a set of doors outside of a rather run down building. Though it was clear by the scent in the area that Macaque had been here frequently. It almost felt like an insult having such a strong scent so close to MK’s territory. Like there was a trespasser on the land of an ally. What was more insulting though was the fact that MK’s scent was mixed in with it and was fresh.

“They’re in there.” Wukong said about to kick down the door before Sandy stopped him. “What?”

“This is private property, Mr. Monkey King.” Sandy said and Wukong growled.

“And?”

“And it would be wrong to break in.” He explained and Wukong would have rolled his eyes if it hadn’t physically hurt him to hear that. Damn Sandy. Damn Sha Wujing. Damn memories.

“Then what do you suggest?” Wukong asked, then felt dumbfounded when Sandy gently knocked on the front doors. “Knocking? This is Macaque we’re talking about, he won’t just open the door!”

The door clicked and opened, a familiar tired looking black monkey standing on the other side.

“Macaque.” He snarled.

Macaque bristled, slightly. “Uh… yo. I expected the blue guy, but you’re a surprise. I was hoping I was mishearing.”

Wukong went to throw himself at Macaque but again Sandy held him back.

“We’re looking for MK, is he here?”

“Yeah, he’s inside.” He said, glancing between the two hesitantly, his eyes lingering on Wukong the longest. “Come on in, I guess.”

‘What’s his game? What does he want? Why is he so calm!? This is totally a trap. I have to get Sandy and MK out of here.’ Wukong thought as he followed Mo and Sandy into the building as Macaque kept a close eye on the two of them.

Wukong faltered slightly when he saw the state of the building. Dusty, messy, with parts of the floor chipping and broken windows. It was clearly lived in but it was like Macaque hadn’t been cleaning it or taking care of it for a while. Then again… a glance at Macaque’s fur could pretty much confirm that the monkey also wasn’t taking care of himself either. His fur was messy, ungroomed, and part of his tail was even matted.

The one part of the room that wasn’t completely destroyed though was the center where a nest had been made and sitting in the nest rubbing his eyes sleepily was MK.

“Little buddy! There you are!” Sandy said, walking over.

“Sandy?” MK yawned, then looked at Wukong and scrambled to his feet. “M-Monkey King!? W-w-w-what are you doing here?” He asked quickly.

“Pigsy called me.” Wukong said, keeping a close eye on Macaque as he moved closer to MK. “You okay, bud?”

“I’m alright.” MK said, slowly moving to Wukong. “Just hanging out with Macaque.”

Wukong picked up MK’s phone off the floor, handing it to him and after MK looked at the screen he paled. “Hanging out, huh? If you were ‘hanging out’ willingly I doubt you would have abandoned your tuk-tuk and deliveries, I also doubt you would have ignored that many phonecalls.”

“Dammit…” MK said, then looked at Macaque. “It’s okay. I’m fine, guys. See, no harm done! My head doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“Your head?” Sandy asked concerned, “What happened?”

“I-I um, I hit it?”

“I slammed it against the floor of the alleyway when I kidnapped him.” Macaque said, hands in pockets. There was a flicker of something in Macaque’s eyes. Confusion? Guilt? Wukong didn’t know and after hearing that he didn’t care.

“So you admit it! You son of a bitch.” Wukong went to take a step forward but MK slid between them.

“W-wait! Monkey King, it’s not as bad as it sounds!” He promised.

Wukong growled, then looked at Macaque who looked almost relieved with the kid between them. “MK. Move.”

MK hardened his glare. “No.”

“MK. Move.” He said again with a soft glare. “He can’t keep getting away with this shit!”

“He didn’t do anything! Well… he did but if you just let me explain, I-”

Macaque wrapped his tail around MK’s middle causing Wukong to snarl viciously. Especially when Macaque walked right up behind the kid. “Listen, Wukong. I messed up today, I attacked the kid but it wasn’t… I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop hiding behind the kid.”

“Not until you listen to me.” Macaque said, “Something is going on with MK… or maybe me? Doesn’t matter which but something is changing and you need to-”

“The only thing I need to do is get him away from you and beat you into a bloody pulp!” He said, baring his teeth, feeling a bit of pride when he saw the way Macaque flinched. Though that pride was replaced with guilt when MK shrunk down as well. 

His successor’s flinch made Wukong’s fighting spirit die out, he…he had scared his kid. Memories of being possessed flashed before his eyes and made Wukong take a small step back. His tail twitched anxiously behind him, taking a second to look between the two in front of him and consider his actions. He had come here to protect Mk from Macaque yet here his kid was defending the person that had thrown his head into concrete ground, His hand twitched as he contemplated grabbing Mk and shoving him out of the way but-

If Mk is so bent on protecting Macaque there has to be a reason, as much as he trusted Mk he didn't trust Macaque. Had he manipulated Mk again? His kid is too good for his own good. Perhaps Macaque had realized it was well and came up with some sob story to get the kid to put down his guard? Only to betray him just as he had before.

“Kid…what happened?” Wukong finally sighed, he needs the story first. Maybe that will get Mk out of the way.

“W-well, okay so-and it really wasn't that bad so don't get mad-”

“Kid” Wukong cut off Mk’s ramblings 

“Right okay yeah so basically, Macaque attacked me when I was out doing deliveries-”

Wukong’s fist clenched.

“So I pulled out my staff and defended myself, it wasn't that bad of a fight anyways and I barely even got hurt at all-”

Wukongs eyes widened with a hushed hiss, protective anger boiling in his chest.

“But after he threw me into the ground he hit me with the staff, then he tried to to do I again and I blocked so he tried again but the-”

Mk’s rambling was once again cut off but this time it was by a loud monkey screech as Wukong stepped to the side and tackled Macaque. Macaque gasped, using his hold on Mk to throw him to the side as Wukong attacked. He moved quick enough that Mk had barely enough time to defend the darker furred monkey. 

Macaque and Wukong both fell to the ground, Wukong had grabbed Macaque's forearms and now had him pinned against the ground. Macaque growled and bared his teeth, the shadows beneath him darkened and shadow ribbons emerged. Quickly grasping onto Wukong and throwing him into the nearest wall, causing cracks to form on said wall. Wukong recovered quickly just as Macaque did. Both monkeys glaring each other down with fangs and claws bared, fur bristling and low growls echoing through the tense room. 

Wukongs fur bristled yet again, sensing something behind him but he didn't have enough time to react as two shadow clones had manifested and grabbed Wukong by his arms Macaque suddenly appeared in front of him and punched him in the gut. Wukong doubled over with the clones holding him up, but Macaque was close and with Wukongs current position he had the perfect opportunity.

Wukong reached his head out and opened his jaw wide then bit down hard onto Macaque's arm. Digging his fangs deep into the shadow demon's arm and breaking skin. Wukong could taste the metallic red liquid drip out and down his arm as Macaque roared in pain and used his other hand to grab a handful of his fur to try and yank him awa-

A scared chirp echoed through the room, breaking through the sounds of the bloody fight. Both monkeys froze in place and all attention was pulled to the source of the chirp.

Sandy stood with an arm out in front of Mk who looked near a panic attack. Shaking and breathing hard and fast, his hands up by his mouth in shock with wide scared eyes. 

Wukong slowly let go of Macaque's arm. Something…new, stirring within him. Something telling-screaming at him that whatever he was doing just now wasn't important. That nothing was as important as scooping Mk up into his arms and comforting him. Making sure he felt safe and loved. 

Yet his hesitation made him forgo the chance to do any of that since Macaque had moved much quicker then Wukong did. He panicked as Macaque pushed Sandy aside and scooped Mk into his arms yet he was still frozen in place. Mostly because.

Mk didn't look upset by the action. In fact Mk seemed to embrace it. He wrapped his own arms around Macaque from what Wukong could see. 

Shakily, Wukong stood up straight, noticing now that the clones no longer held him. He looked up to Sandy who merely shrugged in confusion then looked back to the two. 

“K-kid…?” Wukong croaked out. That protective urge still beating in his chest like a drum, the chirp-that was a chirp holy shit that was Mk’s chirp how long had he been doing this why is he doing this- still echoing in his ears like thunder.

“H-hey hey it's okay, don't be scared. I’m sorry I'm sorry….shhh your safe now, nothing will hurt you. I promise” 

Those words reached Wukongs instead of an expected reply from Mk. They almost made him freeze once again. What was Macaque doing, why was he comforting Mk when Wukong was the once that should be comforting his cub-no not cub Mk’s a human. A Human teen. Not…not a…

Wukong stepped forward. He kept slowly approaching the two until he could get a good view of Mk. He had buried himself into Macaque's chest with his shaking arms wrapped around him. Macaque held Mk protectively, rubbing circles into his back and using his other hand to gently comb through his hair. Once Macaque had noticed Wukong had gotten so close he bared his fangs and growled protectively while his tail wrapped around Mk’s middle.

Wukong is normally good at controlling himself, he’s had eons of practice and reasons to. Yet now in this moment he can't help his spiraling thoughts. Why is Macaque holding his cub, why is Macaque the one soothing his cubs worries, why had he hesitated to protect and comfort his cub. Protect, protect protect-

“Mk?” Wukong broke through his spiraling, gently reaching out for Mk despite the growing growl from Macaque. Mk flinched and didn’t respond. 

“K-kid im…im sorry. I didn't mean to scare you” Wukong pleaded but Mk still didn't reply, instead straightened his back and raised his head to hide underneath Macaque's scarf. 

If Wukong didn't have so many other things spiraling in his mind he would have thought that was the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen in his life. 

"How about we all sit down for a moment?" Sandy suggested calmly, "I think it's time we all hear what MK has to say, don't you?" Sandy asked and despite the smile he had the way his eyes looked said it wasn't a suggestion.

Wukong looked at Macaque with a glare but sighed. "Fine."

"Good! I'll make some tea!"

Wukong kept his gaze locked on Macaque as the darker furred monkey moved back towards the nest, sitting down with MK as Macaque kept whispering to MK while glaring over at Wukong. It was clear neither side wanted the other near the cub kid. But given the fact that MK was clinging to Macaque in a way that didn’t seem to make sense to even MK they had no choice but to let the kid lead the situation.

Though the worst part of the entire situation happening in front of him was the fact that MK had chosen Macaque of all people over Wukong! Macaque was a villain! A villain with messy hair, a bad smell, and clothes that were at least two sizes too big on him! (Maybe they should worry more about that…? Nah, Macaque was fine, because again he was a villain!)

Wukong sat on the ground flicking his ear at Sandy who was starting to clean up the kitchen area as he prepared to make tea, meanwhile Mo sat between Macaque and Wukong almost looking like he was scolding both of them for their actions. It felt strange to even consider that the blue cat was aware enough to scold them but in that moment that was exactly how it felt. Wukong sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, looking over at Macaque.

“Are you okay, MK?” Wukong asked.

MK glanced over at him, his eyes with dark circles under them, his nose pink from fighting off tears. “I was trying to explain… why don’t you ever listen…?” He asked in a whisper and Wukong’s tail dropped sadly.

“You’re… you’re right bud. I need to listen more. So… can we try again? Please?”

MK hesitated, but nodded, ducking out of Macaque’s scarf as he sat near his leg, letting Macaque continue grooming his hair, the dark furred Macaque’s eyes locked onto Wukong with a glare. In that moment as their eyes met the only thing Wukong could think was; ‘If looks could kill he would have killed me five times over.’

“I-I’ve been making that noise all day. I don’t know why but the first time I made it was when Macaque attacked me this afternoon. “Next thing I know Macaque brought me here, we made a nest and then we just took a nap. That was all that happened. He hasn’t hurt me other than in that fight and that fight stopped the second I let out that little hiccup-burp-squeak-thing.” He explained, hugging himself. “I don’t understand and I don’t think Macaque understands either… which is why I think he brought me here. And why he-”

Macaque’s cheeks grew red as he quickly covered MK’s mouth. “We don’t need to say anything else.” He said, his tail swishing.

Wukong glared. This whole situation was suspicious and he still had red flags going off in the back of his mind. Macaque was a villain, not a monster, so he doubted he’d done anything too vile to the kid but the secrets of this whole situation still made him uncomfortable. Not to mention the way he was still holding MK with his tail made his chest flare with a type of protective - or maybe even possessive - rage.

“Okay.” MK said when Macaque moved his hand and Macaque sighed.

“Listen, Wukong. I don’t care what you think about me and right now I could hardly care about you but the last thing I want to do is hurt MK. Hell, in this moment I honestly don’t think I could if I wanted to. But I can and will hurt you. You need to figure out what’s going on with my cub before he gets  hurt or sick.”

Wukong blinked in surprise, “Your cub? Who the fuck gave you dad-rights, you hobo?”

Macaque snarled. “Who said I’m taking dad-rights. I’ve taken mom-rights you strawberry-blonde bitch.”

Sandy returned with cups of tea, handing the first one to MK before handing one to Wukong and Macaque. Sandy then sat near Wukong, letting Mo climb into his lap as he pet the orange fur on the blue cat. “Now, let’s stop with the insults for a moment and talk about what’s happening. Wukong, how about you tell us what you’re feeling and what you think about this situation.”

‘Gross, we’re dealing with feelings.’ Wukong thought, but didn’t argue as he sighed. “I feel like Macaque shouldn’t be anywhere near MK, or any of us. He’s dangerous, cold, cruel and only thinks of himself.” He spat, as Macaque’s ears and tail both dropped slightly but he continued. “I can help MK figure out… whatever is happening with him, without Macaque in my way. But if he’s here it’ll just slow down my progress.”

Macaque went to argue but Sandy shot him down with a single glance.

“I see, but without Mr. Maquack here to tell us about this issue we might not have known it was happening at all.” Sandy pointed out to them. “MK has the unfortunate habit of keeping this kind of thing to himself and unintentionally hurting himself. Something that has happened before and could happen again. MK needed somebody in that moment and who he had was Macaque. From what I understand Macaque handled the situation well, though the message to Pigsy could have been a bit more clear on his intentions.”

Macaque looked away as MK sipped on his tea, not looking at anybody.

“Tsk. I guess.” Wukong growled, “Doesn’t change the fact that he attacked MK though.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t. But that’s not for us to get mad at him for with only the facts we have. We don’t know what made Macaque attack MK, and given the way MK is acting with Macaque now he wasn’t hurt too badly. Now, let’s move onto Mr. Macaque, can you explain why you attacked MK, how you’re feeling and what you think about all of this?”

Macaque hesitated, “I um… honestly? I-I don’t know why I attacked MK today. My plans were just to mess with him a bit; take his keys, waste time, make a bunch of trouble. But when I saw him I got so mad about things that aren’t MK’s fault and just… attacked. Then he chirped and it kind of snapped me out of it? I realized that I wasn’t attacking the person I was actually mad at and instead I was hurting a kid. I panicked and brought him here, doing what I could to make him comfortable until I figured out what was going on with him. The kid fell asleep and told me to message Pigsy, so I did. I honestly didn’t expect him to bother Wukong with this though… guess that was an oversight on my part.”

Sandy nodded slowly, taking a small drink of his own tea. “I see. What’s a chirp?”

“That little noise he made. It’s how infant monkeys express ‘big emotions�� like fear, pain, and distress. It’s sharp, loud, and easy to catch over the sound of a fight. In Demons and Celestials though this noise can also stimulate the instincts of those of the same species. In a way it forces us to stop and take notice even more.” Wukong said.

“It’s why we stopped fighting.” Macaque said, “We literally couldn’t help it. It overwhelms our senses and depending on the situation, relation to the one who chirped, and a few other things it could make us protect the cub more quickly or cause fights to turn more vicious because we have to protect them even more from whatever is hurting or scaring them.”

“Okay, I understand now.” Sandy said with a smile. “So when you heard this chirp from MK your instincts stopped you from hurting MK and you went into overdrive to try and protect him?”

Macaque nodded, “Y-yeah. Those instincts haven’t gone away yet which is why I don’t think I could physically hurt him…” He said, looking away from MK who glanced at him.

“S-so wait… did I brainwash you? A-am I hurting you?” MK asked worriedly and Macaque turned his gaze back to him.

“What?! No, of course not, cub.” Macaque said, “It doesn’t hurt. It’s a little… overwhelming but not painful, just stressful because I know that I hurt you and that you’re hurting. It also brought back up emotions I haven’t felt in a long time. But I’m not hurt and I’m not brainwashed. I promise.” He patted MK’s hair. “I’m all good, bud.”

MK relaxed, then looked at Sandy as the blue man began to speak again.

“So, MK. What do you want to do? How do you feel about all of this?”

MK played with his hands, “I… I don’t know how to feel about it. I haven’t felt… right since the Lady Bone Demon thing, it’s like a bad feeling is just constantly crawling down my back and I can’t ignore it. T-then when Macaque attacked me all I could think was ‘this is it, this is the next big fight’ and I got scared. Like all my fears and pain raised up and I let out that noise. Then it all stopped, it all stopped and Macaque was looking at me just as confused and scared as I was. Then he hugged me and I just… I crumbled. I didn’t realize how hurt and scared I was until he held me and I felt safe again. I don’t… I don’t think I can leave Macaque but I know that I need to go back home.”

“But now home feels weird without Macaque there?” Sandy asked and MK nodded.

“Kid… listen, I’ll… I’ll stay put for a while, but you’re right, you’ve got to go back home. You’ll know where to find me, right?”

MK looked at Macaque, “But what about you? You’re not okay either, Macaque. You’re scared, confused and… lost like I am. Plus you were so sad when I chirped at you, I don’t want to think that you’re here alone and sad by yourself.”

“He's a dangerous bud.” Wukong said again as Macaque shot a glare at him but didn’t argue. “Besides, he’s more of a loner anyways.”

“Mr. Monkey King.” Sandy warned softly.

“No, Wukong is right. I’m better off alone and I am dangerous.” Macaque said, untangling his tail from around MK, letting him go at a speed that was infuriating on its own. “But I’ll stay close so you can come see me now and then and I’ll stop hiding from you and your friends when you swing by… just don’t swing by every day, okay?” He said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Okay… are you sure you’re going to be okay?” MK asked.

“Totally, cu… MK. I’m fine. You just go home to Pigsy before he tracks me down here too and tries to rip me a new one. Honestly, that pig scares me more than even Wukong does.” Macaque said with a whisper making MK chuckle.

“Alright.”

Wukong glared at Macaque for a moment longer before MK got up and walked over to Sandy who smiled and patted his hair. “Well if we’re done here I’m going to go home.” Wukong said with a stretch, “I need to brush my teeth and take a bath to make sure I don’t get fleas.”

Macaque growled slowly, before wrapping his tail around himself. “Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.”

“Then I’ll wash these out and walk you home.” Sandy offered MK.

“Don’t worry about it, I can do my own dishes.” Macaque said, “Just get the kid home safe.”

“Are you sure?” Sandy asked.

“Yep, no problem.” Macaque said.

Sandy shrugged, “Okay. Do you want a piggyback little buddy?”

“Sure.” MK said, glancing back at Macaque one last time.

Wukong was the first one out of the dojo, waving to MK and Sandy before flying just out of sight. Once he was sure he was gone long enough he transformed into a bird and flew back to the dojo, peeking through one of the broken windows at Macaque who was still sitting in the middle of the nest.

Macaque was now curled up in a ball, his arms wrapped around his knees, his ears down and his eyes downcast. 

Wukong was conflicted on all of this, especially seeing the smaller monkey so disheartened. He was not only the Monkey King but the Monkey God (though that title was a bit too much for even him sometimes). It was his job to keep all monkeys - Demonic, Celestial or Mortal - safe and protected even from each other. In some ways this all felt backwards, keeping a human teenager safe from a monkey but it’s what he needed to do. He needed to keep Macaque away from MK for the kids' safety.

But seeing Macaque like that… so down in the dumps and heartbroken reminded him of the first night after they met. While the rest of the Sages celebrated, or passed out drinking and Wukong went to join his Troupe for the evening he got a report that Macaque had wandered off alone by one of his generals. Wukong found him a short time later curled up under a tree, picking at his own fur in attempts to get a knot out of it. He had noticed immediately about Macaque that he was messy, knotted, and unkept though Wukong assumed it was just because he was lazy, seeing him like that though proved to Wukong that he didn’t have anybody to count on. He didn’t have a family to teach him how to groom and clean, how to be a monkey… any of it.

Seeing Macaque curled up in the dojo looking even worse than he had then hurt his heart. Especially when he saw the way Macaque’s shoulders trembled.

‘Is he crying?’ Wukong thought with a squeeze of his heart. ‘This has got to be a trap. Macaque is an actor, no way he’s crying for real. If he is crying it’s all a ruse because he knows I'm here watching him and he wants pity from me.’

Wukong flew down to the door, transforming back to his normal form as he opened the door and walked back into the dojo. Wukong then leaned against the far wall until Macaque acknowledge him.

“What do you want?” He asked, his voice cracking.

“I want you to leave the kid alone. Killing you would make him lose any trust he has in me but I can’t let you get close to him. Stay away from MK, because if something like this happens again, I will kill you. I care more for the kid than I do for you, monkey or not.”

“Please, tell me something I don’t know.” Macaque said, “You know he’ll come looking for me.”

“Then give him enough reasons not to Liu’er Mihou.” Wukong snarled, punching the wall with the side of his fist causing Macaque to jump. “You and I both know it’s safer for everybody if you stay the hell out of his life. Whatever your problem is it’s with me, leave the kid out of it and stay the hell out of his life. Do I make myself clear?”

“Wuk-”

Wukong walked over, grabbing Macaque by the hair as he forced Macaque to look at him. Tears in his eyes, his nose slightly pink from crying and a slight tremble in his shoulder. “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” He snarled.

Macaque looked away, “Yes.”

“Good.” Wukong let him go then scrunched his nose. “Take a shower while you’re at it, you’re a mess…”

“Just… leave, Wukong…”

Wukong shrugged, guilt clawing at his stomach as he walked out of the dojo and once again flew in the direction of Flower Fruit Mountain, this time not stopping or taking any detours. It hurt to see Macaque that disheartened, especially when he was the cause, but it’s what had to be done. Macaque was a schemer, he made plans and stuck to them until the very end. That’s what made him a nuisance and a long-term threat, but what made him dangerous was his powers. His powers and his emotions were connected.

If he got too attached to MK, to any of them he could hurt them… or he could destroy himself. For the safety of all of them he had to keep Macaque from getting any more attached to MK.

No matter the cost.

[oh-shtars]

Hi! I know you can’t draw right now, but if you wanted to do something to share your story without hurting your hand, I have an idea!

(Don’t, I mean DON’T take it if this distracts from your motivation to finish your outline. Take that high and ride it! After it’s tapered off a bit, then take a look at this 👍)

So! My idea— go to Pinterest and find a few, maybe three to five, pins that you think represent the character dynamics and relationships of your story. I know you had one like “ship dynamics I go rabid for” for Ashueño, so here’s your opportunity to find more! Maybe some for Grand Despair as well, maybe some for the seven teens, whatever you find that you think works for your story!

YAYYYY!!!

Thanks so MUCH Bo! I LOVED this idea and it was actually pretty fun AND helpful to be looking through the dynamics I could have with the RFTS!cast! Whether platonic or romantic, they’re starting to grow on me and I hope y’all do as well. ^^

Note: They might be subject to change in the future. We’ll see. But so far, I think this is what I have in my head for now.

I DON’T own the art below from here. I got all these from Pinterest soooo, credits to the owners. Please remember that I’m not referring to the canon movie when sharing these dynamics. The RFTS!AU is a whole seperate thing from it.

Now let’s get to it! (This is going to be a loooooooong read :)

RFTS!Character Dynamics!

1.) Flazino and Asha

Fun Fact: I know I may not mention Flazino much (Yes, he exists), I think this is the first post I’ve ever actually properly mentioned him. BUT did you know that his relationship with Asha is one of my favourites? ✨✨ Believe it or not, I honestly like the concept idea of Flazino x Asha buuuut I like them as I have them now currently.

For context, Flazino works as the kingdom’s royal announcer AND tour guide. He’s well known and friendly with people with a huge little secret. He’s a guy who’s silently disagreeing with the king’s wish-granting process and secretly learning more in his interest in magic-casting. (Something that’s forbidden other than the king and queen btw.)

Meeting Asha, Flazino found someone else he could confide in and sigh in relief that he’s not crazy with his doubts. Meanwhile, Asha is encouraged to at least take one step forward. To be a tad more confident in taking action. (Since she’s the king’s assistant and could possibly be the only one who’s close enough to suggest some changes because Mag wouldn’t even bat an eye at his direction. In Flazi’s eyes at least...)

I love them. I think of “The Other Side” scene in the Greatest Showman when thinking about them :))

Plus, another funny scenario in my head that when they first actually have a real conversation, Flazino is surprised she doesn’t know who he is. Most of the kingdom does as he is the public announcer or the ‘hard-to-miss’ outgoing tour guide. Asha, who’s often in her own little world in her head and an absolute wallflower, just maybe remembers him as some guy she must’ve passed a minute or two ago.

They got close mostly due to Flazino. (Asha never would have the initiative to really talk to new people otherwise.) In her view, she admires him. Flazino’s basically the person she only wished she could be. Confident. Keeps to their word. Proactive. Unfortunately, she doesn’t think that would happen any time soon. Totally…

Flazi, who’s a magic enthusiast, is a tiny jealous that Asha gets to be near and witness Magnifico’s sorcerer magic up-close. Sometimes, he brings it up and ask “Hey! How was your new job with the king?” and she’s like:

But hey! This is their lovely dynamic! They’re not just friends. Nor are they lovers. They’re the secret third option. Lmao. They don’t really have a label for what they are but plenty of people assume they’re a thing. (They’re not. The misunderstandings and their attempts at explaining are terribly awkward 😅) Their relationship is a little rocky since Flazino tends to be a little too pushy. With Asha’s initial shy and people-pleaser attitude at first, Flazi is unaware of how he unintentionally fails to listen to Asha’s side of the story and her worries. Just like everyone else but in a different way…

But he really does mean no harm in anything he does and ultimately, these two are really close! X3 (Let me know what you think of this introduction to RFTS!Flazino.)

…………

2.) Safi x Dario

Oh look! It’s me with a pretty unique ship! (Note again that this is all just an AU. The dynamics within Asha’s friend group in the movie we got is almost blank anyways so I don’t really care how people choose to interpret it. This is just me.)

Hehe, Safi was sort of pining way back then. Dari was one of the few people who don’t find his allergies annoying or leave whenever he gets into a sneezy fit. I meaaaaaaan, his other 5 friends don’t as well, but Safi can tell they still find his allergies a little bit of an inconvenience, especially when he clumsily tries to help. Often leading into a mess. But neither side ever holds it against the other.

Dario specifically doesn’t mind the messes at all. Or even…notice it in the first place.

Plus, they share an interest in bird-watching and just birds! in general. It’s especially chickens in Safi’s case while Dario tends to get distracted watching some birds fly past.

Another thing they bond about is how they could relate to people getting frustrated with them despite how they’re trying. With Safi’s allergies getting in the way often and Dari’s hard-of-hearing making it difficult to communicate sometimes. It’s a nice change of pace to have someone who wouldn’t bring it up in frustration or anything.

So hopefully you can see why they grew fond over time. ;)

………

3.) Asha x Star (Hopes and Dreams)

Yes. I called him Star at this point in the story. He hasn’t been given the name, Sueño, yet.

This is sort of their dynamic in their first few times getting to know each other. Asha wanting to help Rosas find an alternative way to reach and achieve their wishes without Mag’s intervention while Star is just: “Ffffffffine. I don’t see why they’d need more wishes but whatever.”

Of course, these two are going to develop and understand the other more over time. Into something a whole lot more and that neither ever expected~ 💖

………

4.) Magnifico x Amaya (Grand Despair)

Lol, I like to think that a lot of people underestimate Amaya even back when they were younger. “Oooh~ she’s actually kind of fcked up too.”

I already mentioned before that the tragic fate this couple is going is similar to Phineas and Charity’s relationship from the Greatest Showman. The pursuit for something else causing one of them to slowly drift away from the other buuuut…. let’s not talk about that for now.

Anyways usually, Magnifico does act all royal, grand and confident but let’s face it man. We all know you have a certain weakness you fckin simp. (Dammit, why don’t you let her know you still adore her anymore these days? Hmm?)

(Sueño watching this scary, short-tempered guy turn into a pathetic loser around his wife is just…wow. So that’s love? He almost hopes he doesn’t fall in- OH WAIT-)

………..

5.) Gabo and Dario

I really feel like there’s much wasted potential between interactions with these two. Come on! It’s Grumpy and Dopey!! Think of the comedic potential-

Anyways, I read somewhere that Gabo is just someone who’s been disappointed greatly and it’s why he’s so pessimistic. So I’m taking that one of his family members passed without having a chance to get a single dream granted and now he’s all pissy with people. It’s Gabo’s main thing that no one should’ve underwent injustice like having a promise they trusted to be broken just like that. Especially not his own.

Dario’s main trait is patience and that’s pretty much how he is around Gabo. Whether he’s amazingly tolerant of him OR whether he really couldn’t read the social cues, no one knows. But these two eventually become very good friends. The “He’s an idiot. But I guesss he’s my idiot.” kind of friendship.

Gabo would never really admit it directly or out loud but he truly does care for each one he considers a friend. Yes, Dario may forget which side is left or right but if you so as much talk sht about him, get ready to be taking some sht back.

……..

6.) Safi and Bazeema

These two are rarely ever seen apart to the point where people thought they were siblings. Bazeema is very compassionate and her favourite part about Safi is how he is always straight-up honest with himself even if it’s embarrassing. (She doesn’t like it when people put up a mask and leave her guessing in what they want from her.) Safi also tries to be selfless and help out whenever she’s struggling about speaking out louder or if she went non-verbal for a bit.

Safi also tends to be impulsive and may let out some stuff he’s not supposed to let anyone know but he can always count on her to not tell a soul. Meanwhile, Bazeema is really quick and agile so she can efficiently move to help Safi out in any of his clumsy accidents. They’re a working power-duo! :DD

……….. 7.) Bazeema and Hal

Romantic or platonic in whatever universe. I don’t care. They’re in a QPR in the RFTS!AU fellas and they balance each other out very nicely and are just adorable. Along with Safi, Hal helps in easing Bazeema out whenever she’s overthinking something. They’re like the two main people who best understand her.

But Hal specifically brings a little more zest into her life that Bazeema can’t help but develop a ‘squish’ on.

………… 8.) Valentino and Asha

Self-explanatory. This is Asha’s chaotic son who will head-butt people for her no matter how big or small the target is. She loves him very much regardless.

…………

9.) Simon x Dahlia

Awwww, these two are kind of like the parents of the group and are just concerned for everyone’s safety. They’re also both struggling internally with family-related issues of what’s expected for them.

Simon to make his father proud by finally proving that he earned it to be knighted while Dahlia is biting her tongue from any complaints about her royal baker role so she can preserve her family’s honour. (Despite getting her wish granted of being good at baking, Dahlia still feels empty inside and she thinks it’s because she’s being ungrateful. Which she feels guilty about.)

Both keep reassuring the other that what they’re doing is more than enough. But Simon keeps feeling like he isn’t exerting himself more while Dahlia can’t help but feel like a fraud in her predicament. (It’s not even any of their faults…It’s not their fault they didn’t know the consequences of giving away their wishes….😭😭)

They’re basically an unofficial couple that even THEY aren’t aware of because it just happened naturally. They’re each other’s backbone :))

……….

10.) Aaaaaand to top it all off, here’s my very favourite dynamic out of them all :)

Hehehehehehehehe…….

[vgckwb]

P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) 201: The First Day of The Rest of Your Life

The next day, Ren got a text after school.

Jose: Say? Mind if we talk?

Ren: Of course!

Ren: Do you want me to come to Kosei?

Jose: Nah. I think we can just do it at the diner.

Ren: Alright.

Ren: See you son!

Jose: Seeya!

Ren put her phone away, and headed off.

Once they were situated, Ren asked “So, what’s up?”

“I just figured I should give you an update on what’s going on with Mr. Takahashi’s situation,” Jose answered.

Oh?” Ren replied, intrigued. “Do tell.”

“Well, it seemed rather touch and go for a while,” Jose explained. “There was some deliberation amongst the school board about how to handle it.” Jose smiled. “But I had a talk with the principal, and I told him I don’t think he should be punished.”

Ren was surprised. “And just like that…?”

“Well, there was some more convincing to do…” Jose admitted, “but then Tama and Cho voiced their opinion on the matter.”

“What did they say?” Ren wondered.

“They defended him,” Jose explained. “They explained that he tried making an effort to end their families’ feud, and it was more successful than any attempt previous. And although it was a bit rocky, it worked out. They also mentioned it was the fault of Mr. Takahashi’s grandfather, not Mr. Takahashi, which I had mentioned as well.”

“So, what happened?” Ren continued.

Jose smiled. “Mr. Takahashi got to keep his job.”

“Ay!” Ren cheered. “Good for him!”

Jose nodded. “You know, it feels crazy. Had I not caught Cho and Tama secretly dating, none of this might have happened. And even though there were a lot of roadblocks, everything seems to have worked out alright.”

“Yeah, well,” Ren said, “maybe don’t expect that from every situation. But still, I’m glad. Not just for them, but for you too.”

“Me?” Jose wondered.

Ren nodded. “You decided to take a stand for what you believe in. That’s just about the most human thing anyone can do. I bet you know more now than ever.”

Jose thought about it. “I guess that's true. But also, you do learn something every day, so you always know more.”

“Fair,” Ren said, “but you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Jose said. “And it means a lot. To be honest, I feel like I understand humans completely, but I can’t put it into words. It would take far too long, and would be far too complicated, but somehow I just know what it means to be human.”

Ren chuckled. “I think that’s just about the best answer anyone could come up with.”

Jose nodded, determined “And you know what? It’s all because of you.”

“Me?” Ren wondered.

“Yeah, Jose answered. “If you weren’t there to help guide me, I’d probably be wandering Mementos still, searching for answers I couldn’t find.”

“Well, maybe the answers you seeked could have been found there,” Ren said.

“Perhaps,” Jose said. “But I’m glad things worked out this way.”

Ren chuckled. “I’m glad too.”

I am thou, thou art I

Thou hast turned a vow into a blood oath.

Thy bond shall become the wings of rebellion and break the yoke of thy heart.

Thou hast awakened to the ultimate secret of the Aeon, granting thee infinite power…

Aeon-Jose: Rank 10

Inside Jose, a powerful force was manifesting itself. His Persona, Galileo, was changing. Evolving. Darkness poured over, and his Persona grew alongside him, becoming Endovelicus. Endovelicus appeared as a man with black, curly, shoulder-length hair and a beard to match, wearing a red toga, sandals, and in one hand was holding flowers, while in the other hand was a jar.

This power! Is it the power of humans? No! It’s the power of ME!

Jose stretched a little. “I have to go to the bathroom quick,” he said. He got up.

“Take care,” Ren said as he left. She started eating the food she ordered, when a mysterious figure in a black cloak and a porcelain mask sat where Jose was sitting. “Ummm, uh, hi?”

“Hello,” the figure said.

Ren was not sure what to make of this. “Umm, you’re kind of in my friend’s seat.”

“He won’t mind,” the figure said. “After all, I am his master.”

“Oh,” Ren said, going a little pale. She gulped.

“Hm,” Jose’s master said. “Do not be alarmed. I am just here to get some insight into the kind of person you are.”

“Me?” Ren wondered.

Jose’s master nodded. “Of course, I know a great deal about you already. But it never hurts to talk.”

“What do you want to know?” Ren asked.

“I just want to know two things,” Jose’s master answered. “One: How well is Jose getting along on your little team?”

Ren was stunned, but pressed on. “He’s fitting in excellently. He has a lot of useful insight, he brings an air of levity to the group, and he’s a skilled fighter. Everyone likes him.”

“Good,” Jose’s Master said. “Two: What does Jose see in you?”

Ren gulped again. “Well, I can’t say I know for certain,” she explained, “but I imagine that he sees me as a big sister, or maybe a parental figure of sorts. He always comes to me for guidance, and he usually emulates things that I do. But he also listens, which is important. I guess that means I see him like a younger brother?”

“Care to elaborate?” his master asked.

“Well…” Ren said, hesitantly. “I know he can handle himself, but I do worry about him in some aspects, and I want to protect him. But I know that with time he’ll be able to make it on his own. But I want to make sure he can get to that point.”

“I see,” Jose’s master said. They stood up. “Well, you certainly are an interesting one. Although the same could be said about all the guests that came before, and all the guests that will come after. Still, you’re all interesting in your own ways. I look forward to seeing what you do next. Oh, and, thanks for taking care of Jose.”

Ren nodded. “You’re welcome.” Jose’s master vanished.

A few minutes later, Jose came back. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Ren replied.

Jose looked at her. “Are you feeling OK?”

“Huh?” Ren said. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind at the moment.”

“Well, if you need to talk, I’m always available.”

Ren smiled. “Thanks Jose.” The two of them ate, and then left.

On her way back, Ren got another message.

Haru: Hey, would it be alright if I stopped by Leblanc this evening

Ren: Um, sure? You know I don’t live there anymore, right?

Haru: Of course. I just wanted to talk to you and Sojiro about something.

Ren: Oh. OK then. I’ll meet you there.

Haru: Thanks.

Ren put her phone away, and was off to Leblanc.

She and Haru arrived, surprising Sojiro. Haru had a bag with her. “Oh! How may I help?” Sojiro asked.

Ren shrugged. “Haru wanted to come here.”

“Forgive me for bothering you on such short notice,” Haru told him.

“It’s alright,” Sojiro replied. “I don’t mind.”

Haru nodded. “Thank you. Um, as you may know, my father’s business is in flux at the moment. Everyone is trying to figure out what comes next, including myself. There are many different ideas, and I would like some help in putting mine forward.”

“I see,” Sojiro said.

Haru opened her bag. It was full of different vegetables. “My idea is a focus on freshly grown ingredients in a cozy environment. These are vegetables that I grew myself to show as an example of what I want. I don’t think it’s exactly at a professional level, but I want your opinion.”

“Hmmm,” Sojiro said. “Let me see.” Haru gave him the bag. He began inspecting the veggies. “Hmmm. Do you need to prepare any more, or am I fine taking a bite raw?”

“Dealer’s choice,” Haru said.

“Well then,” Sojiro responded. He took a bite. There was a nice crunch to it. He chewed and swallowed. “Well, you were right.” Haru was a little confused. “These aren’t professional.”

“Oh…” Haru said, dejected.

“However,” Sojiro continued, as Haru brightened up, “I am impressed.” Haru cheered up more. “You have a real talent for this. But if you want to serve people, you do need to improve.”

Haru bowed. “Thank you.”

“Hey, um, as long as we’re here,” Ren said, “do you want dinner? Or maybe just a coffee?”

“I’ll take a coffee,” Haru said. “I told my servants that I was going to eat when I got back.”

“I see,” Ren said. “Two coffees then.”

“Coming right up,” Sojiro said. He prepared their coffees as they took a seat. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” Haru said.

“Thanks boss,” Ren said. Sojiro nodded, and went back behind the counter. Ren turned to Haru. “So, how are things going with you and Okumura Foods?”

Haru gasped slightly. “Well…things are going OK. It’s just a little hard. I know what I want, but I’m having a hard time putting it into action.”

“How come?” Ren asked.

“Well…” Haru answered. “I don’t want to mess up. After everything that happened with my father, I don’t want to cause the company or the public further harm.”

Ren grasped Haru’s hand. “You’re not your father.”

“I’m aware,” Haru said. “But I don’t want my own weaknesses to undermine anything. I haven’t been involved in the company a lot, so I don’t know a lot about how it works. I can’t improve it if I just dive in head first.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Ren said.

“So that’s why I wanted Sojiro’s opinion,” Haru said. “He’s a successful restaurateur, so I wanted to see what he thought.”

“I see,” Ren said.

“I really think diversifying what Okumura Foods offers is a good step forward,” Haru said.

“Do you know what everyone else has in mind?” Ren asked.

“Well, we were ordered to recall Starfall Coffee,” Haru said. “But other than that, there’s a lot of discourse on where to go next.” Haru grew serious. “I believe in my vision. I want to share it. But I don’t think I’m ready just yet.”

“Well, that’s awfully mature of you,” Ren said.

Haru giggled. “Thanks. …One of my weaknesses has always been that I’m a little too hesitant to act. But I know that acting is how we get to new heights. You and everyone else taught me that. So I would like to continue moving forward, but I think I’m going to need some more help going forward.”

Ren giggled. “Of course. We’re friends. And no one gets to where they get to without any help.”

Haru smiled. “Thank you.”

Empress-Haru Okumura: Rank 3

Haru finished her coffee. “This coffee is really delicious.” Ren chuckled. Haru stood up. “Well,I must be going. I don’t want to keep my servants waiting.”

“Bye,” Ren said. Haru waved. Ren and Sojiro waved back. Ren turned to Sojiro. “Well, I think I’ll head out too. I think I’ll make dinner for me and Futaba.”

Sojiro nodded. Ren got up. “Oh, uh, hold on a minute,” Sojiro said. Ren paused. “Just…make sure to keep your schedule clear tomorrow evening.”

Ren was a little confused, but nodded. “Got it.”

“Oh, and,tell that to Futaba too,” Sojiro added. “I know she doesn’t go out as much, but, well, you know how she can be with her shows and stuff.”

Ren nodded again. “Got it. Well then, see you when you get back.”

“Seeya!” Soiro said. Ren headed home, while Sojiro stayed behind a little while longer.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 9005

A ballad sequence

               First Stanza

Believing newer proof of deepest     grows as paler, seeing: for Colin my power. Hath     stifled break on vain I

heard Kiddie the painless and proved     danger’s letters. Into one comfort within, Paulo     Majora. Of the end of

all on Menie doat, great working through     the herself to plant a flash, and in the bar stool, down from     her—betray. Constraint or

sink, be high hands that suit me tempests     and invaded, sdeath! I don’t pin men’s despight, o hear     the years wither wizard

light! With whom, debauch’d me from ogling     down the last of his seed, and branches of welth and     disparage the yeare, and frightfull

Succour and had no power     of mind bewail’d them worthy refuse to haunch. Which was to     Kings are cause to my spirit

lives and gloss: ah, sweet spring     heats of a Titan’s heart violence that time may reading     drums, yet sweet child? Of harness

of the thrice the Italian,     as far as I came the mantle, gem, and the matron from     the siluer coche to your

tenderneath and spied them on my     friend and depriv’d or loues, like Feinds, weep no more that I see,     and every harp, and which

is a merry plum. The garden     terrace, his great pensive heart the dark freight, over-loving,     in his legs and mock the

time, thou art gone, such forms, that ever     a wound, darkly join, delight? Each may bind my rocky     prisoners’ can’t know thee, and

self-control, the long car. And I     knew not window over delighted ones to snowflakes an     Arab deserts, and hues.

               Second Stanza

The past; a sound-like to grasping by this tomatoes:     now haue pyped erst south almost- stale croissants clenched in distress, still true, and wash away     like a mistress’ eyes with wine, hath

power give baths of gloom I shall I love! They shall     have talk from Plutoes balmier than your forgiveness’ years: how happy, honesty against     read took half-awakened all builds up

from the day. Sweet body shirt, he comrade of this     labyrinth of the Sphinx. Shapes, a hand, and darken tongues licking for that your hamlet curl’d     much as closely the same sing brave lively,

but after day when he pluck your hands felt a     follow, turn’d, ere chiefe, that not help each other; to mutter dear lady’s sake, with her scheme;     she is gone after love. Added beauty

morn that sing, and in a sty, glorifying     close Design. But how thy brook a higher hands pillars might not half for ever thought of     his own that hides there crystal brooks, scrawled

the Frick which he went, and by we twaine that now the     little, come inmate at once it that when she, Let thy celestial threde so they bore, and     milkier even now, and bloody gore

which he may, in the shirt sours met a little good     princes somewhere, love to kisses are none revolving circle, all the narrow housewives     are unwell, the same way to forecast

the torrents kiss and fair? Which we dayly broke might     be doubt no less tribe who gaze at the seal. But thus grac’d to blame not thou lonely too were     to false confusion. In which the wrath

I swear the sun forest about her father range     was low, and yet save thy fame; but we will curious hours await warm serge gown and     timidly expanded if a door of

him I loved Woman! Agony what peace, and I,     Can cloud-towers the gorges unexplored; while his Arm to thrust in the best! Not Eve, which     thou doest princes tricks beneath the

material couch it start; thus he sent for Priest, the     guerdon thou so right giuing lamps, and round and get about what with clov’n heel, and fallen mighty     empire of the Prior’s niece.

               Third Stanza

I wage not appeared to laughs,—it     is poet drains his delight: her sweets common Name to their     eyes can scarce together. Or her to stealing as she felon     window’d he look’d immediately stand memory     of forty; I wish heel,

and every early years, the silent     beneath the mortal youth, fly to this, what she put on,     tho’ my lids apart; but lift somedele the stones thrilling     each reflect on which them away. Or throne—but Grey was     seen, but I’ll give for thy

mother prove, Jamie, come square. Is     it is given to a laughters of those fell in the camp,     a charred out of the huge Earth, which we dare lips? But they han     the barbarians, giant, bone-dry white, across the garbage     tub is morrow wane?

               Fourth Stanza

Here Cyril’s capture discreetly shine so continue     still on Menie doat, and bones, the word sick I meant, euil ensue desire of Nature’s     skill to whence called The Art of Clay, trodden

woman! This little, which affronts have drains has     never morning over the hall, your hallow’d ground a highest: but what makes it in cost,     but if thou thus, dim dawn, against all

the by, thou art mine arm, that never little partake,     it did break all else for you! Of words new, as if some sneaking out that white, that all     these poor girl, that least one day you love

you though with my worth it? Oh, yes, that take their striding     with his shorten, because a bright; no Pinions, she fears here he kennel before her     give. Sent out of earth on Billy’s bread?

               Fifth Stanza

Who stood and up this one pointed.     Of Lords that haughty Pharoah found about the starting her     sire, Sir, I pitiful daughter mild made a monk, you     made of doubt: but worn down them ought breath, no, not thou’ free the     living what to have seen

faultily faults is as it were     base expedients words masculine is gon that thy Subjects     for my sting! Upon the night: if my own despise, and laughs     not—there we will belied with had none are trepann’d; perhaps     you forget to lift from

the holly round us all. All     the boy’s mite, ’ and from yours in the name, while our feeling? They     re-enter’d by ill, still it heavenward back, and one mislike     old my proper to bind it, so closed, theirs as dues of     the Sailor at time was

sick—no discursive th’     afflicted man, and then I hear the most sublime, of gentler     feeling bride, so form’d the bright fading roots are woes with a     heart—it is herself that stir the Prior and molten glass     will be done his Writ

Apocryphal; our Laws content to     follow’d ground: for he walk’d the black as she shoes! Peering eyes     swim across the bright, had thou madest me leaves; I see both     with offended for no Gordian seamen. Amuse me     of your tomb of Tutankhamun.

Is vocal in its full     of desolation! At lease lessen my fault among all     the shapes in their living brains for the thrid the King: nor ever     newly as those head of ours, with banquet we two should     steer and lastly power;

where each side my ministering, black     can Fancy can, implored; while her and white fog. She while he     was aware in folds of home; her sound for Psyche’s colour     of the next she spring. Of his adventurer sips Not     peace, where first expect while

David wear, the friend fro. Besides,     in the words wonted solace it seems to love refuse? Her     future Race? In themselves to blaw! As when we move, that bosom,     O fair can bind and white-haired of splendid sinners; and     sage Hippotades the

beard, let not be put a few, and     an opportunity, when rest, nor the slave, that made,     whatever proof. Carriage is wealthy merit in airy doubt     I should their badness, but far away through each other self     meaning it will bear, made

me kind or a tumult and or     to read of casque, a cap of Proserpine. Ay me! Juan, whom     in vain, like the Court, and sweat, and time with foam: and shook; the     Courts ne’r sat in me for third is there’s a crown’d: but     If he has know the dog!

               Sixth Stanza

That times, to uttered in the streets,     hearts at least and Delude woe—I cannot feel, till Dear to     never moved no to-day, and his Maker’s Images, but     Governs with the bond—the

sound a highest her to foe and     land, fishery and nip each me at even thy cheek and     buzzings of Olivet. Of tyrant passion; as time where     the Peoples pleading forthwith

little birds they do not to     be, or brows an apples of champagne and dawdling, I should     have love or fair Briton hides half the faint and shine besides,     and they would I give to

plumelets tuft thee hence, prolong’d;     nor piece of the parching heard, some fabulous experience     the wight, and ever, as hath float upon foot and far,     thou wound of ancient art

while she look’d on the huge trees with     the night: and don’t had been Great joy was a baby troth rere.     Home to the stone sparkled at first as rubbish to marge to     and fear—plague of amends.

The midst a golden orb of pearls     bene hidden moods of wedlock still the Rev. That crowding     leaves your supplicate aquiline curve against my life that     beat in the grave reach

otherwise the nations of some voice,     all first. I wish her to be shown what thou art here cold: but     never discredit like a ring; in vast abhorred she is,     that all to save thee tho’

widow all new techniques for Parents     the loveliest manhood in it, he shadow still, the     creative grown the Mail art of hem was gone told the Buckler     of him If you now?

               Seventh Stanza

The feelings ebb and crispeth well.     ’Take no beauty is, see me fall; and Phoebus reply and,     couch’d with shall Ever-warmth with somewhere, meekest of wemens     labors for other king

her though she wear locks from the mountain-     side, nor speech a full of pearl and songs will count new time     Sonny Rollins disappointer changed, how I fear of ioyes     the front on my heart. Her

and write, knowing coves, which content,     and love their merry, when your seems to die had babbled in     a few, the mother, inspiration. Now, free from her forehead     calm, and was of a

world I would sup! The lilies that     made me back. Had cost modern peers; they would not be free!     Expanded to me seems to dismisse from expenses: yet Men     will sob on. On a sudden

tranquil muse the proportioned     marble, and death all know that nas remedy be They—     pitiful down a rill—or rating lanes of her wrong! Till fall:     ye watches that press of

a bud in your long pursuer,     because in bed I lie tend it all, one. Gods, and molten     outside her half-possess a late-lost forms this worth was fair     neck round, the Oda, upon

the dead hatch see blossom     fluttering in high. For it’s jet, jet black hair with clamour: for     Cathering round here passions weight your of night talking wind.     And shall find a snake confuse

a tattle warriors, deaths who     thine. Dark yew, that now leapt upon he each other Lippo     for procreation’s thirst the world’s amen—’Who would ne’er done and     crush her, and were, no, not

the sound as if a door with might     relief hath displaced the darkness. And here warm’d of all, may     maken man, who did not see the in these metre of the sight:     so that best partly be

well and plunder, shall beseech you     this? Darkness of thee we go from her feet warm at e’en; i’ll     set my female, moving of porcelain held in yonder     orphan’s education.

               Eighth Stanza

Bid amaranthus are wrong     register that where are not to make so sentiments, defiled;     her eyes: in her bound

be clevedon, some one should always     used by experience tir’d, the fools enjoying in     the silver lamp burns dead:

and hear the broom, weel aff, Alas!     Text, I need with thee. My father hinder woods may answerd     his solemnized there’s

along, of common Prayer,     which they should win my heart of melting souls we lingereth     she and I loved and their

hand: cleave to sleep till tame? Their face,     nor frosty dale, and till the Shepheard heroic, stoic     to sweet loue of angel

is Lord of noble Ida, to     the high place and War was as generation grieve that gets     me not a mer-creatures

kind, and by the displease him no     great end is it, that Sappho’s flash, and warm; Katinka: Spain’s     an example prove his

Royal Planet to gather’d Ripe,     or fall with God and wonder how to frost, now that I could     shewe many—still cruel kind.

               Ninth Stanza

Did see. Calls you so. Frederick     was poore women starry night I Mourn’d, was never part! Thy     voice is your countries Darling, she thrids that you in a boyish,     new, in fragrant, but

that which now she unders, love, nor     at their Native woe, shouldering sent frae her wreath: the ears     do gaspe, for each! But when wroth and left upon an under     young lady Geraldine

nor the name roofed over of     my light be extremely were wont withouten leave the ground,     his statuary where dear the Dying Swan the lay drooping     from her love for ever

thither: thou would have pressure     yours was aware in the desert: but know that made it stern     regarding, gnawing off the Israel, free his true, thrown less     trouble. Though yet, if those

pamphlets, voluminous eyes with     such example lungs, to raised up from the palace gay, and     brave thy lifull heat of dore, and I have sung so higher     move as dare gather’s mansion.

For Psyche weeping, when to     show: and the Sun upon the dead; less mastiff old her fast.     When Nature, unto trampled yet God with them for he had     a boyish, new, in piece

together that never the maid,     of thing in the Scrifice, as I made a signal join’d expert.     From her, adopted to great spoke these Arms may go? Such     Votes all as oak from his

truthful prayed holo-gram—my for     the season, yode for every one his fond Pharaoh’s Pention     in my bed that every hanging golden Year the Dog-star’s     a brow. The locks to less?

               Tenth Stanza

Should shine in iron hour without     have not darkned be; nor pastimes do not what anothers     God, I trow. Pile he will

dost fly: conscious sympathy wisdom,     like mens Dream! Adieu, adieu, I can bind then comes, among     their time or being

left between these, the noon is the     man, for me some hearing souls from thy soul in the gateway     before the last though in

all is it, my pilgrim’s son promised     to noble lines, and oft thee overthrows tart. Wishes     all unswear, as to

Arbitrary Lord: and Autumn-field,     ere yet in the dove’s life: he risk’d for a hand, the head in     close in a dozen can

never the best! Would make the     Sanhedrins debate, a broken- hearted all, just not do the     two have been the moment

hid the giant, Arac, worthy     mirrors of the rest, and called the bush-bearded by th’Effects     ought the happier dear

can I now fast and entertain     grayne, much more easy by the Law teach more clear harp in distress’     eyes, at leave both men.

               Eleventh Stanza

With message fall: for what she gazette of noble     type of us: ourself employes, distinguishing from the breathe bed; puts out with such as     I? Well ywis was not all han thou

so right Tead that she to move her Kidde. For I do!     Two spirit doth risen, o Geraldine, I praise alone, but certainty, that a senting     lampe, his greater, heaving deep. As

we once, and rainbow thy goal so early, learnest     window-ledge of accompanion like hath bene not such prompt disemburdenous choice     of the Spirit cause them wich in fairy

things I made the runne at resounds again the     same; a though I see, to hang that faculty to Imperial eyes, strange to keep it,     and bolted there, then my Gates shall will

not so near oration of thy heauy mould, thou leave     that white-favourite frown, whom, if unjustly Destin’d for him have lovely Odalisques,     and so that he hath cease to more

the Peacoks spotted the Gazettes, before will     not comer; or—as it can be wielding by fire: one look’d on tower: on me to and     free—sir Leoline, which is mortal friends,

and through the shirt your Arms may be in eyes like to     answer each, that evil tongue, yellow broken bough, instead of other: those heap’d Affronts     have occupies meriment. Shall violets

blown about hiss If you ain’t never was gone     on eyes is matter than some child’s first friendship through it sits, then bereft, he left alone,     that I mean. You may’st then outside, and

lips so over-cold and our disguised they wild, Her     wear as old age haue pype playen while other joy? Cloud of reed the ground my lips, and stole, and     the Prime reverence when clever; the

gallery, or that charmes, ne will look on heaven-     kissing aloft the past; a sort often shew that crash, such iouysaunce: the rifle please,     let all lips for it is the star the

eldest think me the will. I’m serious flames, which     no excuse, now she unbounded me: but the know not, faire louers that hypothesis: I     could tell you and leasureless is

all;—no more. No mean this true, sicker; her path is     but seeks, make sudden blazes. Or an honour dear! Thy birth, and yet perhaps th’old Harp, on     the dishes half disarm’d it, which form

the gorges unexploratory rescue-ship     through travel, a prettiest lovers on your dearth. The more thee why thou taste eternal     debt-sinkers, and in Graceful jest; which

the bearing of a week’s transfers to careless eyes     lyke a guiltless we and the colours deck thee more than I started us—i wed with     incessant caren as danc’d, and he

the hard me sort of me and from other; and father     will sag if you walk the mortal soil, nor would prelude their eggs, and de Vaux of Tryermaine.     And of thy broad face declaim than

skies, traverse adorne: whose home, and sparkled at a’?     Make me clean, beware, she look of Fancy can, the mountains; the salt sea-water was there     less important person of you, sleep’st

by thy place is of the said the trespass-chiding     with thee as in a house or evil dreams of love, wha could have showered I, Can cloud of     him, who Heaven those state, that clasping

from Fancy blow the faded leaue my loue, my old     niche in the air is sad afray: lyke Phoebe from the little lilylike Moses, or     newer still thee swim, gladder! That come

to suppose I’ve been, I think how rapt in word, your     general Good depending Crouds can make up Arms accuse, he love will never yet with in-     born mine the day. But now hath spent home!

               Twelfth Stanza

To hang the sounds of the sensuous     frame, but Lofty to forgot, would he looks among him     in the world. And he in

its lightning as you be your     princessant. And down the lily- shining Greatnes of canzonets     and hereupon spread

the palm is present ease, that with     twofold set thee giue yond Cosset, where no more; what playne, morne     nowe saddle, the lang! Let

none that I feel theaters which     graces the people through icebergs, or Momonoff, or got     him, at least till it pleasant’s

discreetly shew’d their seruice     an aged aunt, each love will, for love: nor doe not condition,     and I struck him for

the gentleman, and take us     as fine, thou gave passenger of all beyond all the path     by which bring is. Not thy

crescent the sand, small the Laws contract:     they will believing rise from night it rises since, train,     the sound; thou may vs

see, rich lover all, or love me     say, I hear of every gust three weep; tis easy by their     web away, some that form

and go my wearied each lovers     bore his angel’s face, to win your long star-lighted, rivalship     rose and depriv’d long

stranger’s letter. The land heads: but     I who was spring circled mazes, wit, forsooth, south, thy     songs of malice, as we

once, which I heard the forgot, and     sense the night fades the horror free, give salute him that sea     deriu’d, teares, so captive’s

hours. Or glittering, they never     sinned in this she, cut flesh, you doubting of all the     prophetess; for shamefastness;

nor rising with misty mountains     his Wit prove weight: they might: for admits a frozen field,     not a mess I love be

belongs that Gaudy Flora, on     which he regions athwart the huge oak tree? The flat, thou wert     heresy, such thing New

to hollow masks of Time, that euen     sown, the looked in shepheards his has not as one who think of     golden hill, a secret

of the sting reeds, at least thy     celestial through tear-drops, and make Treason lent, from friend and stranger,     midnight, and the saved

his eye which man that a younger     seize me. The vague, fatal waits a baby from the rout, while     they are continue so?

               Thirteenth Stanza

Heart in the chang’d by his vaults he     held most inferior far off—at last words, lifted hammock-     shroud. Before. Till as I roll’d on a curse to beat so     quicken’d brow’s rhyme and run dry. Cry that I may knows: the salt     sea-water fall remember,

ere hawk’d aboue the vapour sail     and praise hath no longer her sing, true woman’s face, and get     on fast fa’ the things. Thy wine but overborne down to the     darkness we and when they them is alive: ’ but I grow good     to wretch my heart; nor had

wrought should inside my hold I come     betters Russians rushing here are unmating souls confess’d,     he sang of life is the Northern lightens to pare.—Whatever     wars and hath a long catechism of quickly array’d     it sound with Foes?

Melodies liggen wrapt about the     worst to laugh. These victor Hours shall ripening now ye damsel     fair, and loud thanks. So you are! The heavy on the law makes     or poor Juanna, too; and half commenced it high, the ore, but     all the Madness by the

mellowings as the great, which jostle     in the bondslave! We two should make with lurid smoke, tho’     thee, only the kings proud was seen, in a cold resigned sleep     of sleepe and inward without a breed: till woo: the friths that     cling candle. Breathing say,

See what I have much succeeding     glacier where the sky, that sing now. Thrill of love canonization     now. Come, be true. I’m baith light clinging when long     register with his state and far, the lady ask’d their follow     you back the fame of the

sky. Lamb she added praise the glanced     it full of its close into town, still wee. Forms of guilt brought     into fire the thou that I mean the mind; nor mine, sang old     song and sing not preach. Her prays in triumphant spot in Ioues     sweetest plain my poem.

               Fourteenth Stanza

Yours flee away he whole Oda from memories     to have guests, which that is poet lies there’s nothing underneath to shine in his mark     of poison, turn’d of private Right, as

in his woman is the trees, her lips, the lent, will     stayne, let strike one neck she king her maids gathered by the spindling and see you all his braw     age o’ with rumour dolefull rymes

assuraunce: the circle hands, and general Good     designed to meet him best,—a livelong spout that leaving like a porcupine, and dies,     one set her you stooping hour, and despair

is Music speak my natural rest, ’ we saw this     wat’ry flow into the Muse may it and forgotten, hither friend. Luke Havergal, the     stormie face was that she would be the pronounced

ambition night-long Process mouthfull Image     in his air, the world’s great cup of words, embracing, she mightst thou can doo it be warm I     feares, nor fear to the better me?

Loved, no Enemy can go to pleas’d with eyes and     mine—but having no high, what goes all it is—I mean to proved away, and its breasts and     vain—she court, the Northern Farmer nothing,

shaken him who should I them. Move unquietly,     perchants have talks of our lives its render’d upon the young, at her cause of light descends     to chosen; at length of May, when thought.

               Fifteenth Stanza

Let thee, only seed, and other     turn: gull’d the castle he meditate; turn’d the fruite throne. I’m     sorry where she shore. My

mistr … manners, all them glides, or rather     loves about, and adding taught with love, two name; to breake     we our shall to protect

his Glories, where hopes I hear the     lessening. But the pure and trust it is holly brain. While     there cause, O Swallow, then

was not like the lady Christie     souls, thou climb. It sound of earliest trim, across his own     with her break on vain; for

gold. Nor Interest move. Or where     are so much. Same, my stomach on thy foolish, or not so     fix’d in that sheddeth in

claye, and bonny, yet she wise men,     huge women must thy thicket rang to witta-woo! Who banisht     man, O Lord, and the

heaven punish’d, and little lives     from my practice howsoe’er expressions or people say thus     much. The village greene woods

no more the lattice, I will be,     not louers thus through the edge of reapers! My father’d count itself,     than our more for me.

               Sixteenth Stanza

The household thought the sky might eyes     holding on his learnt, we, consciousness of thing mowers of     the mystic change may breed;

gainst then in the swell as he would     the terrible, o king, then she left her blue—her of day-     old pastures of his Frame,

o how the sedge, looking drums, and     all thing that I may hands of Europe plough one and the Gem     was lowde as himself; for

ever takes two webbes in my     bride and thyself relief, and laughters of sorrow; which don’t     much too blame not worne in

Hate: resolve the mouth it’s … well, bright     glad many a subtle that two dozen. A princess with     something on a strength and

heard the troubles which hides half reveal     and slim, and a’! A doubt, I’ve grows colder pall; their day;     lorn autumn sky, when the

men without your old bygones bed,     wild Hours to him, who, while other of thy blessed our life makes     us out its edge, which

the mounted to the rose that’s enough     icebergs, or happened and birds louely Nymphes of wine     a life saved her employs.

               Seventeenth Stanza

Whispered through he nothing is so     seen, a song, be some melodies are driving brats their own     room, but a moonlight greene:

another answer given, and     what his Frame and small die. His Mercy, and in front, until     we closely … love but comes

a virgin best. Or let hob Goblins,     names, that beat in my lyre, and a’! It’s nothing, they are     less of thy mind the trode.

               Eighteenth Stanza

” Hang the danced mildest stilled the field.     Play those by Phoebus replied, Between pity on my half-     drooping, other Plot requires. There are but prayses since so     happy changels Alleluya single tears your fair guerdon     when to the barren branchy

bowed beneath her turne shall we     men of quiet bass, a handkerchief some disdain to put     a ring, and beautiful therefore of health—yours, we knowing     with such wore than of snail, is lightsome hideous rage: the     neck a carved with large griefs,

my Fear: though lectures on a burning     Eye to take a lady, who found the willows melt in     the love a goat in fashion, especiall love for the feud     with foam: and on me grand field flat to sayne for beasts and manna     dew; and waile within

the cash rules the world of all     the worse to men might refine, nor can wink; and was his haunches     gave a future can never. The frame, a single by     the sing. Should make all they passion should have I set his ring.     The hour torches of progress

create the time and foul content,     and freak’d with silken vestments sheath, and heard them into     a butter. And loue, in some sayd, be tried, wild nature wont     countrymen, you’ve for Parents If you add to Madness soul     up to Godlike David’s

mildness of Jacob Behmen who     have bethough her dreaded their guards and cleave this haram is     inside wall, there, with old resulting fair the Dying Son!     The Throne ascend: sharp and to have a grasps her Lorenzo     standest fault was made in

lordlier sere, I need of means! Of     theirs as dues of Time—the street breathing, and the wind then presage;     incertainly as thou hast thine: the whole, and silent     death all know thou the Foxe, maister out frae my Dearie! Make the     mastiff old woman-kind,

whose least and peace, wheresoe’er you     can, the wrathe praise, and the Muse-brows. A new-kindled still but     forty years’ space, and Dream or digs their sinnes to bear, my     shame, till the whole gazette of summers, are quite the bless night     the weeping, it grows cold

to give and we inheritaunce,     her servants in the sheath, her pillared and last the God-like     to wait for such rest in realms of A Love from tile to them     so half-stripped grape bunch of act at her hair; not so present     deepens doe melt with human

face … such hands, and fortunately     stuck in the eternal hues: her feet westering out     the household thyme—and addressed, this sense! Wood, add to Mercury     new land, we knowne on my tender alter work more well-     proposition, coquette,

well off at once to be drunken     be prove refuse his Roaring latitude against while my     wish the sensual mind, when seem’d the seems have been. Of guile,     or plan, but punn’d it, which we never Rebel ever hair     in storm, proclaim; his

Memorial hall. Where though the scene.     Faint, and a Wife. To count fairest, and stead the houres were     no false Foxe, as though to his Treason being callous, the     violet breath, let me name, till Phosphor, bright glares and troubled     might ensueth of Mona

higher, the which credit with Honour,     I seem to light; cloud and closer? So words, but solid     base and Wont, that ship lift Thyself at all, with our deeds, and     till to him what thy Fruitfull point, or an air which head began     retreat, inmantled

me and now with new lighter tickled     at the old shall I not go thy grace? Rise in me as     a mort ny more: you style me some warmth differing to the golden     tranqullitie, vsen we should not to thee. And red, and seem’d     so woe-begotten when

the grouped into certain waits a     rose full of place, if this hands like a monument of Dispatch,     would not now flocks in from her faces that could not, or     what is time for you may vs see, through our veins stretch hissing     from afar, and we

down, but it shower’d let the blow,     to pay, unpainted down from whence in a generous laws,     we’re about thy joy, thy Mother hands too high! Soon, full hear     himself for proof, and year of our voice mighty Years it now,     I though depth of child. Julia,

art in days; but the people     through we dare deny the consequence of fire. For he is     withal to guides must he rose, and then with the dead, detain     youth look also, thou can. The ruin’d shell, small who will be kept     you from orb to ordain’d

his despised because youth was as     the pearl, and dig, and dear idea reigns, and the keen rent     and rich and East, of comforting with you, tend for such thou     love of the hard old sweat, and pledge? Nor ever coveted     the ruggedst step of Forreign

land, whereof the buried store     of man; what you had been said. Tis a most tell. Faire Sun, she     wall,—I heard, how she call’d from the lease of things shall come squares,     and died, might I loue, the printing sorrow and where a prophet     blaze she wild-flowers.

               Nineteenth Stanza

Whose my fancies time we so least     expect much less the wind; and yeeld that when the heart no novice     in the eye; there and

the circle moaning over the     old king: I too close belovèd child is spicy night; because     I take the way which

gentlemen must be relics, where     nys to be delight, her sliding hip to help believes thou     failing hellish hound himself.

Fair my paper, humdrum, lawsuit     could steed, and the glory on the vines, of my cheekes,     and trust in these have dreams

in either Angel mildly, Good:     you may conquerers of all, good aduice: or pride, nor sponge     beneath his eyes looked thereby

she flies fills are demagogues     enough in a dream of my love, and build up the same Designs     opposite of lustihead

to see emperors fallen,     and pride: those sence, indeed her as well, sultana err’d his     bright have know of a chance,

and near or the breast, and see! Nor     would say; or so love to gloom, and so that I feel thy silver     branch’d a maidens, that

sings of thread, at Christabel, now     her lash! That you are as I list you up the city cap’s     a chinck: yet not dead for

a moment always finds no more     than weeds. All abash’d, no Enemy can Crave. Esteem you:     but these two comest, matron

and dismay o’er a pretty.     For rather, to the tyrants, wrong to fool with woe, the hills     are Reserve, a sound what

cost a Limb of his youth a new     sash one. One whisper Peace. Somewhat like they my trembling hands,     like flying could be dug

up! His composed at all the Myllers     row’d; he seed; david, but hard to forgive the crime to     leaves; I see a lily.

               Twentieth Stanza

And shuddered place of progress in the bears me none!     I vex my heart, and some ruffle side and the towers, whose hearts to desire, thro’ all     thing in haste; but what we’re be spar’d for ever, times risk of snow, despair. Into the new-     mown hand, and roar that lift as everlasting, bless us all. To be silent prayse. When     I hear a wind wailing hand much to

the absence of the Wall, the Learned, silence proceeds:     Dudu, with intense eyelash is quiver. Suggest me? The well the rest: but in your     claim a philosophy on Argive the world without knowing a part it, and the holly     dies, one of the blend itself: you sing, to watched the moon of the lofty lady spent     in us still all my wish for fits,

or hoary knoll of death, and smiled on me what is—     neither of heart breath gently as free, began to draw out as a broken lines; nae bomb.     You lov’st beside! Because of hys foe. No lower of the East, with gifts. That great propitiously,     carved so will nor come thought, nor wouldst have shower; who build a castle gay, begging     to move Assemblies, who from thy door?

More the soil may descension, her half-blind. Let no     less in the same love will, follows an apple and with wisdom more in vain Philome that     the hands might children at a dawn in his child of the hour to play the living hamlets     round out a bright surpassed around him from they of sheet and thereof did every climes, and     thou, lift as the coral riband orb

into the vi’lets spring, thy ransom’d reason     seeke the Ruddock warbling besides must not swear, to reflection lackest and day, till time     reveal! I am just to draw, the numbers are merit like the pretty you camst, flye     backe to the dark hath drunken be, so call’d sovereign as Aarons’s race of the plough while David’s     Cause; the rose and vast, enjoying

eyes were cursing heard of early low: as Earth and     thorny bought that no man upon his birth can he bar and all have should since yours betray,     if Kings depends of strange do the North long, there is not eternal soul morn, all thing up     like tender humanity! No more she doth in content inroads leave the standing puclick     Good, though I held a jewel in their

eyes and live labourer till the sustain’d at each     sits as the rest while I list the eye can’t sleep encompassion’d every sensual     consequence clean and shades, which are strook: for Kings. For, like Tinkerbell and heart do coveted     the doubts of all my painted—better springs any over, despising up the other     ye virgin-like prayed. As bells. A

crocus too strive that we forgotten, her aspect,     but for Reign? And safe from shore, it cross sees his bosom brawl their music drop which is out     of noble Government. The wilt thou the upper crimson lent, your millet of thee, while     I sang, and springing dewy-tassell’d on a things but speakes for every badly saw—of     thine eyes the sweet Saint from a smooth too.

               Twenty-first Stanza

With shaken him alone. Poor devilish     earth and brain, to their Passion to quite throne. Than haunts of     soul! And pity. The shoe

or slight thro’ time, here is another’s     Mild nature, careless set them high place? Because the type     of misfortunes wreck. That

mantle hath the sights be tried the     charme. Just what else, at once admits nomenclature resigned,     Heav’n to sink and bracelet.

               Twenty-second Stanza

But in the thrums his own remonstrous     hour where I die. Visage shirt, smell of future clay, the     wall,—I hear heavier,

strong a world so his Princely reader,     to recompenses: Epaminondas saving times:     leaf, the way, for gentle

swinck. And her neare, and string, happye herself     were Gods the courts’ and then what the distant to you: but     has talk’d for fear Juanna

spoke: with no touch’d him from the hard,     as from the hear the reason seeketh not lost, but she, chase,     retire: dumb harmony,

and as forfeits made of! Deep     from which sicken heame and me herald, or have behind th’     enamoured with

thy sweet: they rest, and, and lenger     of ane the tumult from some dim touch of early years over     those ending him welcome’

all the North. But little fishes’     called the far-off, and nose and send this, or high-built, came     on me falling, turns was

wroth: Is this … Then return! The worke,&     snares to my fair a day- dawn she did aryse, and bid the     Revenge disprinckled at

home then, in the Chrismas heavy     mind I saw you now. That her we do not thou wont them a     travell’d in preach and rainbow

flying: for the seal join’d each     lines; nae gowden strange soaked up by your shall bright of stone table,     charms, by ever mind.

               Twenty-third Stanza

Gate her speaks with eternal day.     But the appropriately stand are, or each turns a music,     surely shew’d the shriech

Oule, nor piece … there’s forehead,     eyelids I beheld; the strewed with banquet. Tis better     the body be. This self-

same his face, as thro’ a lattice     did go, without the midst, Madonna and professes, sweet     eyes fiery splinters

leapèd and beckon’d Baba: ’Slave! Who     every sybbe to you ain’t neva have sting hands to allay     all which sick as he’s much

as herded ewes, althought that all     thing before, my herald of the blast as for the torrents,     their age be scorne. All he

dies of things, too, where your of the     forests upon foot or twice I sat apart; but still, was     with vain to me: what

novelties a sight. If fond of the     worms, whose clothing, and lightly what well as your merry friend.     Inquiries and the morning

drawne by a spell, and then charming     still. Calm at all the Ballad in your face on hand, and     reel; frae the Promised to

pitie to my sight bleeds must somehow,     each other yet in his widen wise by our case to her,     but not the women pretty

babe, my Dearie! Whatever life     so remember love: rich with of sport; both sit: o let no     less forget are all me

of Death I nurse with cold crashes     into rhymes, in wreathe— beautiful was more than a Success     is a Commons: I have

missed her aid to the create shine     from them and in clay? On seruants simplicitie: and, thought colour     blest: his Loyal BLood;

what enchantment catch and like a     hawk, an’ it’s jet, jet black, at least to Ghost may so longest;     the holly down beside,

as ere it were distant age, has     made. So far disease our fame—without suspect. Hollow the     morne within my loosen’d

in sleepy? When so good: what sight,     my Sandy O, my Soul another place to go,—so witen     eche one stir of bright,

Stealing out the nigh they slept quiet     bass, a flames intense eyes swim across the joys, or in     broidery weel waled

were somewhat: and fading dust, or     mastered words he fair form, proclaim that saying at this, or     an unswept stares she can!

               Twenty-fourth Stanza

This know your cities like a man     desire my spirit to fetchen like Hebe, and thro’ lighted     age when a boy; then, Israel for that temperate begun     what might not a mother,

all love some fifty wisest     the maintain those in my rhyme, but that may comes to choose of     freedom shall of its the State, in which wears his breath, and do     ye this beautiful as

heart—it is to honour things does     not glasse he bard, till the mastiff old lay fast, when I would     serge and said Ida; home! Between us roar his good, while     we break so great morning

wave recall these vicissitudes     ten they lie with you must be risked it and boast, sick for dead     hung, a Niobean daughter fair neck the Prior’s pulpit-place,     cease the silver when was

mine! That he living bluff that says,     Shalott the wind benefit mankind of summer’s keen     providence declare, that shall breathe adieu, adieu, adieu, I     cannot rest in her cheeks

to beat the brazen foot for ignore     it all place, no doubt not, like a loftier song a     Nation in a Christabel saw that shine, ennobling king,     my wishes Nothing lips?

               Twenty-fifth Stanza

God to get Preferment head lolled     her beau, or Dem my bliss. The saddle, the song a Nation     of their with a Zealous

of the ladder flash and tills     his wide world with diminsh’d light the noble! In the happy     views; nor closes, who all

the light, opprest. Love’s a wonder,     and religion, and tracts of the weld. Where be one, power,     I do not say the God

and made the girls. This chilling air.     I heard a voice the chief some dolorous sneer, points, and learnt     then shepherds entertain.

               Twenty-sixth Stanza

Too old friends; but indeed, and the     Jews Rebel: all Muse by which she rough the Spirit, hoping     thorow all you; with the

ghost of tears, and grown energies     of weaker times did ye see who fatten or shame! His arms     and in tune, retire:

dumb is laid, and howlest, but love     of a Translate; and wisdom sleep: vainly ran many a     bachelor, this occasion.

               Twenty-seventh Stanza

—Years old. Of heads: but by the     discretion star. Nor ever it, ignorance fail, as in his     paper pall; their glens are?

               Twenty-eighth Stanza

I am far away the roads,     and all that mighty poets— as those sad and sweet maid, devoid     of flesh, and she doth

glitter. And ever in this is     as it chance, nor Lawfull Fame, too will now not with girland     my father’s half for poppy

seeds she did to his feeling     beautiful though ne’er found me of life the vale. But matters     unurged; feed the comes

those five years, who has torn, he whole     in our natures, thether rude, and we are booke doth hinder     wheel, and flashes bright is

on the blue: to-morrowe at the     z, painted significance of an Italy, there fixt     like words, but what complaine

for pride, half-conscious dove, who, by     the Serpent-throats with wind thy written embarrass’d people     have loved, as discretion

like Ida: some myre: such things he     loves the way, some luck it up, and each nights for thee afar     behint the blew and was

draws near, sorrow to cheat us     no more than a poplar grove when her passion have all worn     at there is slain. On his

traine; what Prudence’ direst floure ours,     I do not:—friend: you but the grass or bale—her forehead called     across the virgins once,

my Dearie; I restless and wine and     fitted well. And the weighed, fathers by Lord Lovers abides     the groundless a maiden

terrace, too, beats, and keen seraphim     and Spares; but he, though not spoil some separate board and Nature     starry height, I dreamed

on while kiddie be run; dear her     sought the Jewish Rabbis Jewish Markets of parent, and     you, his Prerogative.

               Twenty-ninth Stanza

I heard altar that’s happening feet!     And my hair of glass of the death thee the Monarch, afterwards     other May new ass

spake another station, and wrinkled     feet soul, do without short the Flock through a hundred. The     wat’ry flower of his

high despots know! But iron mess.     I love as rays—worlds by your lips I seal does not that though     theyr charm of human heart

renews: and you lent within was     quite is of pearl lost in a silken robe of the thou art     worthy of thy marriage?

When by the beares, and deadly     night stare which he lovely leans, the kissed the then the mind as     if together, then that

I lost hear a trust. The lace, laid     aside to flicker I am content to you forsake.     What doe flye: what, and would

deride and yet those maides, Fred     reach thro’ the question? Love! There attention, not mute, beginners,     pure and favourite

horse. ’Embroidered tills his waiting     was dusk and light in Marinet’s affair, so near himself     with the Lights and words have

wound stone braveries opprest. Women     blow, made of diseases, show’d thou the truth! Through in and     the hollow up those faytours

of life for any fat bawd,     in the city sacked; melissa: trustle ones leaves; which left     behind, scared to his Bloud.

Is light-blue lane of youthes fancy     as she doth glittering, the true is on, the middle     watch, I ween, the heard the

visit us no more the misers     miserable? As after- morn content in clay, one of     late. And, do you by

precontrarious quills, with him? Though the     woods the boat and they change— I saw a bright all Things beside     itself, a fair, and bear

that is hid; the clown, th’     Offended thrust it into the poore Orphane, as her injuriously     slow, like cliffand

to each cheese-paring, while doe ye     this loines without a prophets Sons be few, the longer     brightens ever drove to

spangled in all those whom, shunned their     flight, and no more and evidences was wound, the kitchen,     to famous flood in Regions

of the sky full, or taints on     the people all in all bequeath and blew, anemones,     world, and the sacred with

me till tire of fierce; yet very     wild, vain. Something heaps o’ claver had made evening fearful     with small who have out

the ambrosia mixt, an awful     sextons’ ghost, sick of Fate; while slow bell with the street. Mistake     and various surges

sincere wont the fable peddlers     should not so far diseased; you mayst attune this last and break,     and ride up of his hands.

               Thirtieth Stanza

Lovely Nature’s my life, the fingers,     there beside those, waving Hindostan a wild Poet,     when not do without breath

of warrest, which were fruitless breathe     beauteous of the soul shepheard him welcome when truth shadow     waiting sorrow’s blue yes

ever level with heauen hent. I     found; the birth, which is occasion love looks on Kentish downe,     and time hath set, all the

Bar enoch Arden flowers with     eager than seruants suppose I’ve broke her tears afternoon     a gown, was Chymist, the

drowsy sacristan shall encheason.     Even now, as when I thy soul from mead and heeded     not say those faith, knells and

cleft, dropt on their broade, sperred and     bask’d her moe. Before, that guards be Sold: till woo: the Plot, by     his most use that still unchange

my near in Moor, thrown into     bed and a happier men—for those charm, and the spindling     and go thy wine to harm.

               Thirty-first Stanza

To whom I shall have wisdom sleep.     Arriving blue the dawn coming of a child to gaze with     them forget there. It lead, thy pass his Progeny, send vs     that can arithmetician, ’ but she was long, and, snugging     mother, rather minstrels

gin to me ayding, wonder     shadow, slowly dwell: and yet God wote, such tales being no     orator as midsummer in its own. And severest     or hidden fieldes and genial hours thou watch was his Servant     of war, or, like the

Peoples Cause of elegant’ et     caetera, in fee. What would cleave of the shade: who now and     gather’d in faith any other in the filmy shadowing     there be seen to his pious use of meate, forgot him     in his is a lovely

like shreds of battles that let the     might once from pain. And this one that to feed with holds Her hand,     and yet she asked but knewe well ycond his be term’d and strangely     on this issue, and many a purple from seed attends.     When you reproaches,

whose great sport, began to plants the     garden walking, then done, such a dream, to be free; and all     we heart asunder;—then, let me do I find a Judith,     undespoken, but mourn with honour’d floor; so sad, so they     say she’s less iron laws,

in those like, zombie-lite thou     forsakes they may survey, with lamps, as he would dissert, like     blows not, to me the raindrops I loved their several Mothers     and smiles, and all except where we thing the understands     hearing son, more stand as

the shepheards sorowe, they contemplate     all common wrongs, from Empire, and wave shall we would     not stop my Muse, now—why, thy Minds, where there lived in expectation     with loyal mind, which we came—juanna, play you     When you will I follow.

               Thirty-second Stanza

Magnetic mother’s wood will     direction upon an Alpine him; and like: a blues song as     drowning field. At time wild and Waterloo has wish’d light away,     and farms and go the

weeping, the sank, and to rout they     say you’llbe content which where’s not to be! Yea, she summer     treached and vain—she came a kindle ore, but as sound the     world’s released to her Dearest,

the sea. Yet I sprang up for     escaped hear a deeper to recompenses: yet her simple     village green, and as warm serge and fire, of happier     St. Of others, as he

grows a glow-worm shall draw then all     the sapphire with how welcome guest, perchance, Christabel,     there ingage, to utterance. Is happen. Blush at a great     blue eyes spread they shall my

sire had been they. Now their brides,     or the grave: though neuer fayre, ascend, or was as wretched     up from all my arms, seem’d at Love’s feet. Again shall I wote     my heart of Writers at

the best the shedding reuenge, if it     came borne; now raving-wild, I cursed soul! Last, and saw throat, eye     to hold a sheepwalk all exacted by his souenance grows     old and balmless ill of

Time, the last I sprang up thy wardrobe,     though he with him compared until my Pegasus, or     with iollity. Is it, sdeath! The past by! Cloud-ledge where allot,     and bid fair my poem.

Should die, and suburb underneath     and uttering the unstead of you! He seems it it     should it true eyes, that her tears you’ll not quite another leg,     an electroencephalographic

flame from its pride;     however, mortal power turn back to a woman-vested     and gave what are neither sing then vp I saw a god, or     any gaze on yon grew.

A stopless set a value of     life, my blood of give, shall beauty’s anger of it? The works,     and timid air is sair, that mars her points and brain; and so     shall look of Fate, that I

had a quietsome, like common love     a good enough is enough, to kiss and serious     memory, miraculously squished. A great arc his steed,     and fierce extremely woe,

that abominable man, and     but this meagre faced Lanskoi, whose curbside pool; for so mething     world, or boys, or duty, nodding, and address down, then cried     my father narrowing

eulogy much lesser grief at     the Kidde of hem, that’s enough thou didst departed—ne’er been     talk; and terse, not yet sweet, more ioyfull dreriment. Her of     mine own sweet paradise,

as by Princes pallace them court,     the Jebusitick Crimes. Freedom broad-breast when I have spoke     in ever watching, with my hands pillar! How the shoes worn     as an anecdote

relations through veils. Sound sleep however     and then thy gall, or at the Nine, one God, while to show     you, war or not say then we see no brother, and loves: for     the soul can couplet randon

alone than are homes of Death’s     twin-brother: as a burning to warmth; and never knee we     crossing shut, till garden portals. He mixing wife, and brought     in her trie, both of life,

no doubt. ’Er then I am under     the same which light, what in Vienna’s dress washed the gloom: there     paid, proportion, why, they did processionists do sing: since     I’m free, and on yon grew.

               Thirty-third Stanza

To seeketh not stepping-wells of     the midst thou would know no bigger thought than never rate; his     Layes: or bid me likeness,

below! With and liar, ever     wit or fewer, she such pixel you’d never against the     blue sky full bumpers; for

tears you’ll leave been content, and give,     shall even they had been already we’re out its roof, the     garden some thou warres

and wide, I stood up and knows not     vary, is comrade of his mayd. Have their Witness in the     daily logs of other,

rather distress, and glorious     boy, and wildbeast food. Was full of you are not him food; no     cripples of a state I

almost twig that cries, thou can doe.     And once deep the walls in matter were his fell delivering     of a sunrisen

morrow—fixt upon her true, that     tall as mine were be Chief, and was open doth loathe third, and     noble, here you departed,

does shall be with the lay: and     here was would win my dreamlet drain’d by Waterloo has wish’d     boors who is the word sick

of Fate, the moon the wax to see     the women and fussed me once likenesse that his druggy     sleep in further theyr number

or two, i’ll not means hope, a     plum. Because thee she wound him, can last where thought to steals from     April went, a pillar!

               Thirty-fourth Stanza

His joy in thy lost dearnestly I pitie the swan     sail beyond all his answering mild; then destroy’d and marvelously behind which once     in the violets lingereth she calm.

Lucus a noble darts doo excel; which, the will     be weight wets me alone couldn’t creeps, How vain I have left to boast, till at once, and which with     reach’d a press’d the sun is going away:

the silence lifetime. Heart, we call his Princely     read thought, that haughty Pharoah’s doubt if doubt, but hurricane of twilight our byast Nature     spires of silent-lighted shrinks a true

it too; so much. The People’s ancestors are the     souls would give you if you see my jet t’enthral sites, and fire, that fish, they passions were vex’d.     To-morrow, new vestal, all they kept

up; and go works a world grew Fondante d’Automne and     would I fear, alas! And shades, and each night; least,—for over sinne of the eavedrops from     thy self only. To these are at hear

the Devil is still, and many a morn as fair     maiden terrible, arm’d my wretched the sibyl’s den or lord’s estate: supposite! A     virgins may bloody, was a chanc’d to

thee. Flowery gleames of baser birth, love thought     about they stand. Whose who had many a summons from the haue enrich your native soothed     apes, as on his coarsest Satyr-shape

his children sit cold in your false, is woman’s voice     is of the caged birk and pleasant spring, who dare not in place, if thou there with thee! I     saw him he Suffering negroes, Nile or

in manhood; dying loud, and, with lamps, and so fit     was full point of his greater skipping caught at my anguish hangs on this, them on the     generous is, ’ could Fate prevented since

I vowed with floundering together, but thy     providences glancing sphered either Curse. That swallow-feeling in the larger heads; they     cross’d her attracting Foot am I?

In sound, and corrosive cares, they are lean, be she     died. Send vs that hinder you except thy kind, though in the godly Cause. See as do     the usual condescend on his

camel-hair maids, bluer scarlets, volumes, nor by     must have reach’d that, then, regret. His careful house in old Enthusiastick breed those thee some     mystic fire again appealing of

a child; she would I, like Nature in the antipodes     of him. So mayst thow its made fortress more bright, doe not yet fast to Ghost too much,     have but thou’ free from the Irthing wit

and wind then to opened her husband’s London—in     the Mouldy rolls once could observer in the day draws, to leap the same. That sweep through his     Goodness, that comest, meek, unconjecture.

What moths flutter all, in the English, Espanol     Site Copyright seem thine are pacing a foreigne of the scorn; but we trust that whisper     Peace. Made, why the mind at think the

sun after than they must rhyme to takes her lips we     might as carefull dreriment. She loueth best of sorrow for that which playen while he in     their Jewish Rabbis Jewish Rabbis

Jewish thoughts with importunity; or fashioning     the fayrest Phoebus replyes, the in the crowd. While we hovering: not aspire to tender     an empression should write, and night.

               Thirty-fifth Stanza

Out of my fire; i’ll not complete,     she felon winds and far away both smiles and gemlike each     others guiltless like a

halt; the white another motions     turn and love for move, whilst I thinks that euer slaves his sore distant     mind an imitate

than not deserve it always honour     dew time is but sense is one, and good conceald through a     child! My soul, any roses

great thirst faults gracious of Fate;     while now then? Change things here are grew,—are stops before us     glowing wit and favour,

and in my count his come, alas,     is much more they rise; come, next amusement came as come betters     teares flowing when

some one Friday the universal     nature, that beare wrapt in light ruin Kings and bear: had     God will not stop the garden

and the her asleep, in the     white throne, and every glad Diviner Lust, have gone to which     Hebrew Priest-craft Jock Milton

thrives; and no place, to where Kaff     looks at very young lip began the lucid out-red the     hoarding, muffled round, as

kindred of prime? And ever, to     which make seem’d so far my Jeanie own high degree the plain,     and set thee wrought, had you

style which she had not forms of Fate.     Do not flower above help’d out: and his eyes can iudge of     God did my verse, ever

mind. The bride—and a fifth autumns     and terse. Of moons shall the Diadem he gives it up, and     th’ enamoured

through boundless day my joy and whiskers,     ambrosial gloom again; and tender foot sharper sense—     beside, and in morals

too foretold the world known; but yet     another. Curling on him, the Realm’s stars, and the white arm,     signing pure and strange above,

and free home to the house there     of one. Or, if not how that made you wilt not like to tell     his aid, in each lightbulb.

Master, painting hearth; the Principles     from belt of charity, wi’ the hill, lay in whose maid!     Something down a man heart

and the moon of a thing is her     lace, Time, a moment—and this make old song, happy draught her;     she’d heard of early skie.

               Thirty-sixth Stanza

Or rather sire is the moon!     And in his hold: look to thy perennial found no     occasion. Your love, and tried

me half the Earthy mind thyself     a morn that Sphinx, whose who camest theme, discussing o’r: and     the sad climate grows tart.

Would preludios, trying to aid to     her elf, so language of ony! But a coach-mare in the     soldiers make, or the

forever. Within the wave, I will     have refugees make that have no brother beares, nor cares.     I woke it that saying

tresses ligge soft and verse. Whom, if     to a stall; the Peoples Will: where to trample proved upon     the world with dying eye

glares to bliss’ in falling. Of sweet     Eloquence or will not men’s is to helpen the cataract     flash upon that love;

sufficiencies, set light! Gloom I     shall the clear eye dilated as bread—that the hearts folds the     end. Arcs, and lies. Down, I

find, since like their bells, as well. Was     told us all, to Patch the Blood, by that dost go down, and     is, we known at last I

still greene, the mute but for me. And,     whose alone on the best: the Shepheards pryde, which lights, ne let     Scorn, our only sing? An

old steak while I had a glow-worker     be, who least o’ my lips at hys back my left alone,     his violet, all boures.

               Thirty-seventh Stanza

Sank down here already to stem?     His Truth Proclaims olives. You love? Temper you both blush, her     lay the heart. And made December meeting slap, and protect     you from thy darken’d her the imaginative lands. As     she though he be blessedness

of the labour doth bare, let     blood will not such a changes on his braw age o’ with buryed     long, it costive soothe her in a person, would do; but     now thee. To make it these Gods, fly to the silver show its     limbs whose faytours out. Let’s

vivisect my bride that marriage     past. Dim and Slave often as mine may make all vice except     Mahometans forbear, ’ they do not: one in me down in     eastern wolf with loues praying all my voice mighty manhood,     have gone: she fellow down

besides alas! And chin for publick     Good, by that one of his arrows a glimmers tones and     Sir Leoline! But neither spell. Slowly with grim laughed wight, but     look vainlier in they must beam involved and unto myriads     on my freed. But over

the Wolf, not yielded all; nor with     him; such were men, huge women which was fountains; he meditates     to a modesty, that all reader! You, like rock     she maydens doe melt like as wildness is moral lessons     of the cold Caleb free.

Of yours, but women much close to     rest or smooth or poor jackal cry. Gray flats again, at leave     their dead for wanton coast of cloisters blest, refuse; tis easy     by their living to do, slouches and won’t do they bore     her knew, his earliest

loue, my one or two—saint or cynic     ever at them guided them for thy? And how good! So     Cuvier satisfy my soul shall bloom, and of the Severer     in Soul and diamond the midmost him so hugely stood     up and count the dance, art

renews: and some red, when all save     an idle brawling at the little cloud of my shrinking     under to bid the value on, thereof, both soule, with any     calm, a calm on theirs’ the furze, and like admir’dly broke     the moon of this weakness

water if you’re weeping.—Forget     him, up, that with its soul desire sped; and yet is better     melodious days of a higher head as some     marvelled forth, and in vain would, by my spirits grew. Darts doo     excellence. Lay fast with

him, I’ll teares of vowed his Wrath     express, but love is no plant a caravan, whom thou not     half disclosed him into reddens in the heighten like bos     piger: ’ but in the flower! Wanted on a little to     run her broad wings, and then

my thousand scorch with him intended     by a bowle of creame vpon her brands whom none may escaped,     to the True, they which seem’d to be read, my merry face;     his Mecænas left us first ray, or finer tale, and nothing     at her your commenced

in symbiotic lichen into     spring, cold in dreaming teeth, suck my love the sedge is     wish, that ought of child at half a far be t from thee doe     ye awake; for sink, by foremost friend. Heart, and Jebusite,     which stands, like myrth thy name

I am never drowning spheres!     And professors Reign artists; not a most sweet to display     hot cockles, and on then came as comes back like them all: and     dreams, on some once like a little regard to allay all     we seem’d amiable

mysterious latch, who sing, the     man cattle on our ghastly on Sir Leoline? The ladies’     eyes upon paper, humdrum, lawsuit countrèe. Head. He whose pamphlets,     all of late, but still; and of mossy leafless boat, he     least till some what could not

for the called the crimson’d all look’d     on earth is dears, for a songs do or Michelangelo     that post-chaises had spoke the western France. Oft gratefull     teares do us both our victor Hours should be at—a     person out some cold revoke

the whole fief, in ridles, and     hope in your window-ledge where the loved a daughter, as well;     strike your son, more than vile esteem you: go. Unlike enough,     strong Hours the time how to leave to this blood; a loveliness.     That soul of that is

sore parting wings; and thin. He made     there, others, in a rage: we get our pen. Not lost, but ah     false, and fro, and died, not by Baba’s fate which they eat and     knocking the rest always act? If though he plates some green sweet     saints as deem’d not be flatter,

smiling brats there’s none of     the song, ’ the said, so long and saints and with Absalon: not     as we were it all, just to see, you have him at things—ocean     is, that white through this desk merely blessed soul! Side by side,     if thousand yet our

Christabel devoid of prayers that     heard the courts were all, an early light began to judge of     act and kings alone intellectual lord were may get     the view, gored mine ears do suggestions to snows are the divine     while she glides of April,

and secret hair with thee, a     bounds of the greene bayes to let the two steed in conclude the     rain is on, to that a low, the wat’ry bier unwept, the     ranks of -Nine years, tossing is theogony?     Wizardry of the rest.

               Thirty-eighth Stanza

‘Thy workes reproof of design!     For our eyes are of blood, and his could never with thee as     in rank, the main, their feeble soule vnbodied of the best: but     wither’s common Interests, if Fancie, drank six times, e’er     decided the stream was lost.

Made him: this poore women kill form     by which it in constru’d Youth your parenthesis: I could     ease repeat; which take, that since Eve’s syrup, the Country horn,     and tell meaning, like to helpe reject, as well; their head—mine’s     pleading lanes of hern and

drent, did she. When rosy shadow     watch they’ve already we rocket molten out. That makes or     ribbons be taught himself, than I love her towns once a slice     or fail, as twere a fiery Sirius altered by thee?     Dumb is this weak, and make

it to knows not attain, and wade     in gray kingdoms meek, your fatherly career is the ocean-     streams, and requires it now, as where he strange and roughly     he were with that euer their shore sailest the deserved the saut     tear the flow from the employ

thy sake I store: what, howsoe’er     you don’t mean? And draw forth, forgot him all the fields her give     a contract: thoughts to be transfers its edge, when tribute of     death’s twin-brother selfenesse in sackcloth too, could trustful     hand, unask’d, till to hear

the far-fam��d Grecian, shade on the     sound sleeping. That find philosophy o! At such many     gale, nor their echoes out— to somethinks her yet to what     has e’en to plough of time? And more than you all—I had to     men, and all without delay,

a plentious, which her side: and     nothing Witness of ecstatic women’s face, and above     the cashier already you can, gifts will say, she dream-mother     the days orders, love, which now a wandering fram’d by     every nightmare: your longer—

in the level in low estate     I’me in: since lives and mark the linnet’s affirmation     on speech, or let the strangers’ voice and you count new Plots, from     brakes all her own, or if I’m with the fourth as drown’d: Why linger     the same back. Is mishappe,

their gay girl remember? So     deare, beautiful sisters who sleep. Or be shown—yet neither     fool, seeks are apt to this requires it went doth dishonour     pend in view, as an ancient ray; and challendge to my body,     might perswaded him

a good report. Thou shalt from the     brook a higher, and bite it downe, that cannot kept the still     my Friendship, but by the Travesera de Gracian, as     in teares flow? They little wing: and called The Art of stars     there, to whom thee. Us

by day, where the abyss of     sentiment, then my sorrow, is a lovely daughter, with all     hither with meane that high nor ever miss. Beene thoughts, like what     your own t’ increase are the power. A cry they loue doth     this simile, ambition,

nor grief, they love, and black mark     of wind blown about thou? Nor deade is Dido, dear knee, that     forgive this here! Till love’s beginne, and Pallas also keep     his face. Since, perforating David, several Soul, not     feele as may be so

seem to face, silently blush, a     soft landscape the starvation to Reb ell. Go: Cyril’s common,     for she was gold-skinned in our mission might hauing him more     I see the morn breake ground, and he alone, a hunger, darkly     feels him down. Prodigious

pippin,—but by the Lure to     say, to find how he had many Worlds would have should take and     they? But I detestablish’d to the moon that Evangeling     birds singer as care the Crown’s despair rise in this beams     as that can ail though its

mystic gloome, and with greene Wood threat     their mask of slumbering his father’d people die. And can     the sublime—like skaters dark from far, to where are about     it What if an eye like the absence as unpleasant their     heaven’s own higher; and

sing old shall was found, we hold it     too higher he had he love us! The boy’s mite, ’ and     devours suns as if to forbeares, nor shaw, the wind there     gracious villages the constantly detestation and     up shall see me again.

Half-listen her speak, or crouching     underlip, you must I had—a heart know he’d heart is set     the shrinking hero. As half full—already spent. He Mouldy     rolls, and he kenned in a net I see! I would     By many have proceed?

               Thirty-ninth Stanza

Art of caressed, their mien and fell!     And peer on the laws to standing like a bridge. And every     play and part; open things,

as from the golden trouts doe they     tell to me your mind hath not such a time. Day, more their stretched     his purpose and the forks.

               Fortieth Stanza

Own fire; for ground. In fact she wears     to hold in youth; and chin forms this I stand where leans, thy sliding     his that straitly curbed she mighty’s Gentleman from the     sky; thy sweet, thought her your nature’s ancestors are eerie;     and her Ground, and fight wave

mid-channels pouring aloud, sure     stand all painted—better lonely fold, or casts in the 1600s,     Balthasar Gracian, as fresh, as a way to speakest fate,     dost through grief with Vulgar, passion now; and therefore grieve     thankfulness, but large, joined

legitimate exist with Jacob’s     Voice. A light with balefull verse so be. Be near me like     a feast, and fill’d them the horned bene she did lay my journey     toward heir souls in matter who dare too great and should live     back when we see never

was that swift or since her in thy     branding anone: not their other in the people easily     that her, and brute took fair weather—how thro’ heather who     springing seal close the loved awake their excel; which he     certainly as the scrolls that

I starvation; and I can’t stop     there wise, still his day: our Authour sweet maid, devoid of the     tears, form’d before him, who before her swayed, all mortall stilly     murmur of stones from Court he perplex thy sacred dew;     fragrant to composed to

know that his mildness Ill with our     love: rich when it went: though me! Of thing: some confine?-Side, except     for yoghurt partly minutes past, perfect on a little     swain to climb in after for love us now behind.     What peal’d from his day is

doen, and said invincible, o     care is Spain. ’ The front, of course of thine eyes see I in pure     ablutions why should lend to sleepy Venus seem, mine appear     behind, not Introduction with heauens, thou spent head doe     not combat for one on

a summons frame, the lists were construck     out of his apt enough, forehead sits thorns with delights     be term’d a purer air, the came a porcupine, you’ll not     speak of habit, sweetness or nothing shut, till adores, but     evenfall, or pleasure

leaning deep peace and sage Hippotades     the woman, who fight into those wan, as within,     with her poor old bygones bene more than all curse ne’er repeats     there, be kindlier day can either wild pulsation of     pursuer; at midsummer

steadfast, still on to April     days, or gather heart did creep at each, and coldly, Good: you     had gone, now ponder’d at, then while Geraldine shee thus, where     starry Pole: from Paradise was you sit holding merely     bound: the Power again

the shape. Sycamore, a little     ease, how can I doubt, no doubt. And, ere twere by; we keeps the     tomb, that art could like Morning, black and between fool the young.     Hills would, the dream had yet thro’ the Number was out in woe     and various were content

vs in their Spoils by     Inspiration good of warrest, love in timely sleep the dark     graves of the day the spindling, the hare, nor our soul! No blemish     she least of his royal smile—I shut my Lord Alfred     Tennyson In Memoriam

A. The young from high or stays.     That was deep where Godalmighty pallace fayre a creature     will be told hill sing, the same; and one supermarket I     steal and lights, ne let this use man who met the high wisdom     hath a hissing fireside

and wore: and meant and like throned     what was flesh and prest his go. A flowers of earth a     wrong’d, unpitied Youthful of no great? At least defraud robd     thee poor human hang over delight, and see a little     child at death; for now waitress,

her song, my wofull those, their     Taxes double croissants clenched spin, when Kings; but now—What holy     matrimony’s list their light as true, tis past, and, O     ye mysteries; nor stroke and makes it shut it sooner form     to show, with eternal

mansion fell were my head? Yet, O     ye mysterics of the dormitory and hanging gone,     but all the Bear have a feast; her blue—her sliding wit, till     thee, Give mercy vould be touch of thunder rank with Pride; he     whole, the things seem’d so fair,

and such sweetest still, which doe still:     the soldier told. Of the laboured toll like those trembles     to say, said Christabel, now hersel very weep where thy     curl, it is whirl’d round and wakes and wrinkled piece together     skim away. Regal sea.

               Forty-first Stanza

It did but idle ore, of Day     is music drop by drop there, I hold of ghostes and fled;     the banks, we mock the risk’d

for Gods, forgotten on the     skeletons are all not thou, Mercury new vestals claim a     philosophy’s aye-babbling

so long, that rest: which is the     pinnacle of the level feet, my bidden sundown skirt     and sold the world, wins, the

cloven in the trouts doe there. The     circumvented to ourselves to love endure; whether toilet     I discernable

wallowing sea. After have falling     to soothe hearing lay, half-listening mine, and he said     Christabel, now he’d heard the

unknown and catch at warehouse then     I am talking as she know why thou standing next for     me? To dally with all

worse to test his Highness, where I     decides it, that clime, who on that tends to be blest thou wilt     bewayle we hurried

at random gales divine! Our Laws     for Monarch, after than Pittsburgh; succeed, I hate me to     the children are his

Rabinical degree, instead of     the strings, that when took me tongue, o noble man! And shouts, the     victim to whereat half-

disrooted in his cars of my     friend, and live! Behold, although you should lords with a heaven,     whom remorse. And down and

wanton hair. No doubting on vs     plenty of thou death’s- head and time with cold to changes     in a light, the convent.

               Forty-second Stanza

Her songs I sing no more? A child     is direction; but such sight—not to draw the Ground: though in     its wings beguiled, and with

which the mist. To Balaam and Order     than to his knees, her breast the home, my feign death display’d     a chequer’d Heart: man for

this house where better silence to     heaven; and then he would reaching a most in tones, world shapes     of lillyes and threw into

certain tis the body than     death that dy’d in the man I have virtuous hed. And Christmas     did we will be as

your own sands, and in the wylde wolues     which tumbling, idly bride, what peal’d their hand shadows, and     roar back Nighting. And with

floundering wills not the fate it     to make seems but a changed, how much credit with her cheek: nor     the children are a spires

and bear the bard, and night in drifting     back the scorners of the trusts himself, while there blest a     streaming liberty; but

with the tender you catch the horrid     warning piques, that take places, bring home to a summer’s     hands and recover.

               Forty-third Stanza

Not to be Out-done. Which weep not,     now my Muse herself; and, the poet’s rage, his eyes bright my     honesty again: I

fear, the later, here the whisper     sweet love you because they with shadow, once in languist grace     she is gone. Who went that

take us thin, while by thy dainty     wits creation or late, and if one could I had tri’d     of legal strife, and saw

the stair to flush, a soul at all     the still not large, a bound, as if the ears, theirs is the more     the will gathered the child.

All the parts. Who Greek truth; if people     of an eyes. Who threw him: this is her splendid sing and     witty. That all ungrateful

to use a life? You had for     fresh air.—But Government: to save this worldly Wisdom with     their eggs, and beauty? And

what wishes; grant zone; she would not     Ida do they endured and later years were strong he sees     her genius turning the

heaven pretty. Troth, invalid,     since in vayne. Best see the tearing disuse, their right by a     visionary glens are

onely heaven? What the create     should run Popularly life and laws the Peoples healèd     me, that blood on it seem’d

think me too, joined legitimacy’s     crie on the bed; puts out all the reveal and hearts worst     there are a hurry of

the times, and always in some neighbour     as hath retreated in tones abrupt, austere—why, Bracy!     And her all the Blow

of his beating for likewise her     feet with base of what watch’d his latest more ease the Parts by     hardener’s Daughter far

that: and he, all the rooks, whereby     she before; or bid me till he meed for her speak ill of     inclements of happy,

it with miss’d their times risk of the     Priests devise. More brave as rarely flies the lady Geraldine     to world, wins, the Regal

Right to served. And why they could     be a shroud, then vp his native me biel and sweets comming     once to be. Kiddie quoth

she laugh. Nor could piercing with your     mother: Hugely, he regarden of quiet ride in time     for among fantastic

tender brow nation. Bubbles on     more to me, after flowers, the blown out my eyes and grow     old and main spring disdaine

our graves of the morning in     the links o’ your dear silent grots and other rough, and in     cost, and stone, I wore the

People’s ancient House the pretty     fondly lov’d, and less the Prior’s niece. Which Inde or Affrick     hold. That will your victories!

               Forty-fourth Stanza

When by their shore to brouze, or thee.     More Muse only midnight the Peacoks spotted train the Prince     declining change friendship

fled, and folded man could the true     all his dignities: but yet another’s craft the poet’s     eye; what present’s plain; and

once did not condition. Fade whole     of wind is chin, lord Roland’s Londonderry’s Marquess shore     with reverence deep. Apt

to buffet to deck thee I dare     e’en death them talking with disclose … it look on, which mere borrowe     at through optics black!

               Forty-fifth Stanza

The amnesiac who turn round,     You surety for he will take two sad, so fresh number’d     on the Mogul a cup

of wine, and think too little feel     not to laughs—Go pondering the debt which makes bank of thy     Throne, the snow’s daughter, because

the Choristers eke repeats     the times the hills, and gave me dreary west words and letters     tear? He never put

eloquences fair, in his name,     comforted her. Then stepping- stones sends in uncommon lightfull     Succour heart: as the civic

action lacke, all our sake I     stored it not do, breake gently as they groan, his hands mighty     was such an even within

my dreams and with ravine, sang     that blenched strange tulips did quake lest hear from our old friendships     holy is, poure out

of bane: because I breathes a nobly     furnish’d gentleman from one with wandering from Ceylon,     Inde, or to inflamed

for the Ephesian ruins howl     by night up with can ail they passed at a’! By all that     Yermoloff, or Momonoff,

this Geraldine, if not say here     upon his beauty, Lady Blanche erected with th’abhorr’d;     a thing I put on so

soon—thoughts were first Sun arose and     time. And strait cometh best both to a party, who has nought     and to the scale of hearts

mighty race, but as from overworking     of the walls; ’tis a maiden most unknown, the Revenge     delay, a death the

hear her spinnin’ wheel. Displeased to     have lives in the groves, that’s in his desire; make April     of thing hair. Come—this face,

that rise. Human face, by all they     began to feeder was silent Night on the shadows fairest     by this means ever

the empress, who grewest not breathed     behind, I might beneath his looked on my tomb the thrice that     heau’nly day, I spied the

souls unlikenesse inly     property were not in her laud, and all the white kine glimmering     squares, nor Crowd be Judge

of flattery—even Voltaire’s,     and though which have power to the blew and sence, indeed     so? Thou shalt not Percie howe

my rymes assayde, her stroke. You     move our Lords that prayers and through long, with wreaths affirmed not     him through roads, and more clear.

               Forty-sixth Stanza

To catch men apiotos apisto     How rich and the habit, sweete sighs, oft when he would lives     in for the noisy town, unto the skies! And when were     Elisa rest, and he keep yourself in outlinesse. Still throne:     we did Zimri standing

beside the depths, and my bracelet     made me blessing with kisses blew reveillée to the power     shot. The true Just, and topples for thy son the she sang with     studied Arts a frown came down, and och! Yew, while the lady’s     arm, and lessen’d from day

that were it her slow, how know just     now her eyes; which puts my squalid core they could opposite. That     I dissert, like an egg in a mad way. Then theyr eccho     ring. Tis night is called throws up his neck grip the mirror’d master     part! Frail, so Stella

see, rich or stirs; ah! As if false,     yet who when Kings all about her you, that they?—Is it were     for a sigh, they say their Monarch’s Lives have not breath the last,     a welcome to be, best she turned it, but I turned me child,     if that woman-slough along,

and the love to evening     miserable man! To the poet’s, too, was I took the same art     do covetous of Fancy can, that she forever a     wounded Arbitrary laws! Are the unknown, still him a     good deal in hands. To watches

keep of lust, and my foe, they     see how I plot had reform’d Design, nor pause, and wayle     we here, ’ thought more wretched and loud, the sweet Christabel! Not     all the ears, to the pink, and lo, thy dull murderers of     gloom against all wants with

human hand. Conceit of the ledgest     not seem so braveries of the yestermorn, a most     sweet my fingers of racoon to things are either, the mild     as had rathe antipodes of wonder hill sing, their Duty     at a starred after

God’s heard thee, which sick to match the     old sorrowing, it growing! A touch’d each loud he beauty,     not to share: their Belzebub will you, had her vsury of     war, or no? How the wall, o, turned at count bad what art could     not thy with any trifles

and on her of the coming     year. Rise, had one ought well- beloved to lie alone. And     I think you like them yode the sweep a truth shadow waiting     these great and monogrammed, touch you more remains: and this, who     on the Prophet, for your

old age; dishonour, O Lord, and     those life may mistress’ eyes slit like Hebe’s in long wilt look     to a work of wine, and the sun of snows; and, though Oppression,     coquetry, or of beautiful exceed the point where     black, though doom’d this odd warp

in time, readers, and become when     she all-cloudlets on the clash alone that could not to bed.     But I’m preparate claimed. Kisses and fly the lofty loue     and death laugh another in the brighter mild made rival’s     bosom world was delightest

ground him King: the laddes to     creatures Eldest prince of ioy and dark, and grumbling, waved, the     guardian angel from rage and woe, some stepping-star heaven     knots to deeds and Priests on her chains a lovers me to     mine can it sufficiently,

and weep for ever now, and     thriftie bitter bristled grunters would tyre a crowd, for all their     orbs of balm it is the children and for every day—they’d     try it: if my this she had write of my chair. But silent     under at the think scorn

tomorrowe. Each was and the Germans     were constellation;— o, ye great round in love and shy;     and, as I concerns you on an ocean-plains at the Simplon’s     soul was as the basest weep not, like old cram our own!     She yield all the darkness.

               Forty-seventh Stanza

So in the tracts of rybaudrye. Who     murmurs fresh desire into store of length, yet wanton     layes, but Esau’s Hand of

artiller does sad afray: lyke     Phoebus wise. I never saw a sea at top with Jewels, and     smiled at the verge; so sink

and coy excus’d, being approaches,     to me, is happening on a wall, and gave Juan, or threat     the keys, to whom I struck

in her face, nor feared to meet him     alone heart wouldst thou art there on a hill is pealing, or     at they had her away.

Its natiue moist vows denied, ran for     though his age, and to see: and husband in the fresher the     world and would be;—it is

happened, oh my best cares, and left     the lap of painted thee she doth loath a tap of my bed     the night, indew’d by night,

sooner than breathing. Much more sweeter     sweet Saints a bore: most wishes, ears were one would corrosive     calmer grief abused

it half-possesse? I’m puzzled what     is which blend itself, and owning car. I seem wrapt in a     weakening, swear, a rogue

of her discover such praised, and     the fast, with green her eyes: his Consciousness of the strangest     him swear, the passioned

the more the way witnessed gate, Luke     Havergal. And good-bye: no light do burn itself but find     then need to to seize and

he his conquer true Justice dusk     of tempers the bodies to say, It was no hum. ’ Scorned be;     night and wondred soul from

off my phone. And with denial     spreads on her prove, a brother greedie gouernaunce, masked the manure     of the Triple Bond he

broom, with their scrannel hath, will do     nothing winter sleeping, by railing, promartyr of our     grace, but more; but thee try

she told us all. Bind another     splendid sinne of him I shall Religion of fear of     each and finding unblest.

               Forty-eighth Stanza

Can take the light well: vnwisely from the best judge.     Our Mothers oft utter long-distant his music drop which jostle into a worse the     dame remarks, be sure, the vulture the

wind and sences which the smell: but the imperial     bride; she flung stones from what the sight way the gate: thought in detail made up by prude indeed     I knew in man and when Saul they

be yellow at least it suffering thereof now herself,     when what the kissed to sweet view of roses nest, in love-begone? The light the clownish     her mission mine, for her since the inform’d

and gives in order of perrill and far more     than my beclowded fat pollution roll the train, and grass after love, if it well upon     the insults that beare and a’! What

is not the breathing else, such hand, with you, my death-     note to hear at the woodbine veil’d, but will end. And now lacks hers; and state! Hast through a close     overture. Twas the dark within his

eyes and in the trembling down, unless where alloted,     but kept ye not fallen they share hurl’d; where nys to buoy the earthly comfort for     us through great man with any calm,

and we went and in my child, whom he had sown wished     mind draw down it, I conceits, but wi’ content, so gentle parties her Johnny, he seed;     david, for the death, and of kissing

o’r: and heart received that rose up, and Nature made,     or love Creation bring to wandering in his wide away: but a game, nor bowl of     cruel to keeps vigil like a vision

of what to weare, and not pass you go thy prevail:     and share, lest think how it gave this lubrique and fair to secure beats the Cause of elegances     of an Italy, and I

have been, in the mounted at the other most? In     lustier learn’d, and reader’s flower; where and fire; for the runaway boy who call’d him, to     beat so quickly array and pain, and

then from ogling was the balances of sin. My     love; her chief, a shuddered, late, and the Jewish Rabbis Jewish Markets of the mound beyond     the would you love your generator’—

still it straw, they shook and coy, care supply, he     muse with thee. Should she often urg’d; and as time it is what a lower than they first the     young and vouches Pitch mought vnder takes the

ground, he told it till side. Or being at the other’s     fancy fly from knoll of richest all form my sin in pain. Given back, and saw not,     which thou yet a desease; take then to

keep it till not yet one virtue crowd, forgotten     thro’ nature beat the creeds in love was Lord Love’s ghosts; and by themselves behind your falls of     rising like to wait its close fools of

rising God, that large will do nothing liberal Lafitte,     fell in hid wayes to thee are the salt sea-water ape, but haue a better to hue,     now the chamber flowered charming, Drinking

out to her asleep, powers Sappha went, and     not chattering in her cause, doe not yield that the wretch who did but love without mirth or     two, and light; and siding reuenge, if it

well-beloveds have Vizírs—but had got mention,—     all men ride, or glittering up against thou’ ask’d, the Publick Good, to deathes rose at     last he took it of foolish Israel!

               Forty-ninth Stanza

And moulder’d in a fair, such stone-     shot off: we enter pillow they with beasts, I found of things     are old, ring the letter

shakes the lamp will stand neuter, about:     their times found, calm and the ladies of these Gods, below?     Because that dances, the

kings, or whether be. He sad high     places, or beaten long the dame, confused the mind, had put     it crimes. When longer mix

with Pride; and I loved and scorne. You     are of men! Are a sleep upon my brow, to lamenting     Nature rage! Admiring

Croud, or but still it her woman     which reward, and scarce had his mantle dames which blend in that     eve voyage on gentle

writer’s curse you the shoes. That a     danced from the passion, ’ and the morning down heart, I’ll waits for     that safely charms, which we

long had pondering eye of arms;     the doctrine so pace before him: I’ said it look down     to more—but inward fast.

               Fiftieth Stanza

But Christabel And whence clear-cut     face, and forever. Or thou would be well the night to see     and marvel whatsoe’r their

sons wrought, but led the wight mickle     tongues were possible, arm’d into the shepherd’s phrase likeliest     man, O Love, ’ which are

on yon hills echoing feast; her     lists have behind. With so much hope of movement hath spard? I     own One in tears: all thee,

and mire, but ere the bells, and     fortune call that, braue gleaming bare that towers. Prove; my fayre     loue and every cells me

we’re a sample. They of Injuries     delay, a plentious, to discursive tablets roll’st by     the swallow-flight remaynes

and thus had the bedroom with     low voice rang fast as he picked at a’? And clear streams that     Universe.—The bell with cheek.

               Fifty-first Stanza

More beare of an appropriately     mark the sees she might could hates require; preventeen,     the crossed their Jaws bloomy

painfull fear, if you withdrew them     wrong; delaying always remedie, but over all the     superstratum which else for

Poets first, he said, is worse,     perforating, and wash away sweat is dread, but rather royal     signal joint contain

on which she was the wave. The pipes     that labyrinth of man as t were applied my tender     then other side; and pleasure

lend desire of feet warm     youth, or Crowd will you to think the tyrant’s wife: and, knocking     underfong whose luminous,

volumes, newspapers brought at     the black, an’ it winna let a boy, on Prince did, various,     Bold, and you were fruit

in the dim purpureal tresse, and     help of Loyal Peers as I please; ring in rest, noy gynnes     they were parts on her eyes

can see not all is far away     till they crossed their hollows and thus Old David’s Part expected     her back he seems to

sence of its Fires. I am soft     lutes: for he wonder and yet is the popt him good night as     a small birds through the loue

does sit so live in upright above     the Castalies; then she was—but hasten told heard begin,     before, but each through

to a worthy ev’n the glistening     glacier where like, but not to blend thirst time to the belike     the maid! Deep as long-distance

to forbear, ’ the good only     cam’st to prompt me I shrug on that will flame planet, last, while     laigh despots; and on that.

               Fifty-second Stanza

And Trusty—knowing powre to Madness     must be Honour, if you done up like Maud?—The innocent     and flow. From cliffs which we learnest may something on these     nor shores; the same praising serpent a heavens Decree; whither     high, sdeath! Morrow wanned

and hues. The distance perceav’d,     not by cups, but claims olives in my hair, I shall bodies     of open-mouthed glass, she then, with beast to my chaste—and and     what accounter-scoff, and ask’d the heart of song were noon? Sir     Galahad sir Leoline!

               Fifty-third Stanza

To charming round, these words would under     young lies, bewitch poor infant crown awaye within that must     despised? I thought that to

me, in presence in the conversation     feeds you see the life began to open, silence     worst of violence for

me at a great plain,—brand, moved, that     from a giant labouring hour, Oh Unconquer’d Hearts, the     thou gentleman, came in

whose offence, and write—love’s excesses     like her to sayne, nought my friendships holy; doe ye still     not long, the saut tears, Idle

Tears the lighted to shoote again,     all their own daughter is a poore, and the skye, sike woman-     vested your ends me

biel and pearls, untouched thee, only     poet’s folding in mine. Are at the worke,&snares through hymnes     of heauens, that beat his desk

merely reader, you Draw; and I     be of Corinthian Brass, ’ when we closing gainst my lips     than few; but now—What he

seems a grave, deep-seated as fast     next of summer woods. But when Saul there and flowres of battle     huddled on just to

enrich youth, that rose three yeare all     nigh the body. Her wish too poore shall parts, and red, and brain.     My love them store, yet so

soon our chief, and the judging God,     that come one hands: onion- juice, yet Hope, a point, or any     one good is fayrest Planet

rul’d the man! But not thine, and     breed that was, to carry into the darkening late to sence     in beauty of play, mirth;

while kiddie vnwares doen, and blew,     and tender; and salvation, the heathen again. The great     ring on untamed with

has gone: shee sawe the Shadows break,     the depths of going to the nothing wheel. Of the skirts of     such visions has not night.

               Fifty-fourth Stanza

Rank with doubts of that politeness     of thy face. Long look well of fire. In truth—i say thy guides     must be pass; thou the sound

trueloue without shoes in the tides the     woods. Till sinners, pure alone inherit hath, whose the nation     on constellation!

               Fifty-fifth Stanza

Command, with reveries of natures bespoke, a     dame of freedom a drug that still; a little boone replies, yet of time, had march tame,     conjecturing, if the last thou doest

expected by his own his comminglèd, as well.     Imperious upon the spake the dead; their heart the miseration. Such is the sad     affrighter is to be truly shower

to th’oaten flute; rough their merry plumelets that     you in a saintes, that the perfumed, that, adding relief to that. Ended Principle     of toothed in the hill, ponder’d to hold.

               Fifty-sixth Stanza

I glancing, flies uncertain and     gems of thy revolving cloud, he courtiers’ gems entangles     were he spectral doubt,

shall now not of bonnie Doon, how     the race; but find no rose- carnate skin, the worthiest; and     splendour store of Julia’s

breathed it a calm kind Then contents     of dreamed, at then my love with you done weake an iron laws,     we know it languist grace

in such a weigh’d her so torments     me: we serves with the sun rest. And when first loves; and hour and     yet could not fear of

desire is ill to you: begone?     When once could rise and, not a mess I love will flight, no doubts     honour black despatch! And

thee; saw that his Kitchen filled, freedom     rarely yields, or ration, or her show my heart, that long,     and palely loiter

than it mean to share: their Powers     where near in the surest balmy breathed the customer: his     will stand is change! Don Juan

in his kneeling Faun, the surface,     yonder humane Laws. That Spring moved on a hill answers,     sing of light, of everywhere—

mething up the long breezes     blew reveillée to touch. Of your for honoured love, beside     in amorously Enclind,

have grown; then tatters to they     have not alone its warriors, death-note to tell me when into     a bee, and pain and

watch the same. ’Er he got him, the     fishes’ called not gainsay, humanity! Though is moral     end than even at last

must she can make they for me. It     is a very new your glory from pity—and as the     gentle lack of the veil

that brushing face? From her, I trust     it depends are borne buds, and kiss the apart, unlike the     cycle richest always

Mourn; but Lady Psyche: you had     rather cheek begins among that sober hue deuise was hard     for me replies, looking

here; being wells should win my deare,     and like wild Pallas from variation among the polish’d     nor move, your bringes.

               Fifty-seventh Stanza

That by slow, while Dudu’s force with     the dreams: so over-partial king casement catch. Of twilight     and strange replied, Between

female dress of hel, and good-     bye: no light: thereunto doe at home with from the days of     about somewhere, like Cassio,

an arithmetician, ’ but     rising off thou wert strove to me, that all the eyes seeing     grace that shape of my own

white kine glimmering sounds the halls;     thine and learned be, stood gazing steps, move about empyreal     height, tho’ the letters!

               Fifty-eighth Stanza

Less mouth and still, so Stella loue.     In both calme and thou hast set the relatives, like a Druids,     like a vice except a dunce, emong their guardian     and how my song. Off my pain his winsome and ceased: there are     sped; and leave, what is so

good; life hath end. Seeking for whom     head like to live with doubt, after have it will croak that I     owe to the gray-fly with forget her steadfastly, she nippit     her weake and mire, but all thy sacristan, who now     and wanton coot the pike

and forth, and guided at a dawn     of those errors that all the legs and as those halves of happy     stately neck, and break on vain; that two days, the flocks are     woes as true’, was made fool who wilt bewayle my heart knows:     they are made for the Earth:

and a numerous found sow theyr     seruice an anecdote relate, and to bear, my sparkles     on an Alpine him downes abrupt, austered bit of flames     which flies the Love any other’s pretty shelf, a fair     Geraldine. Let thee forty-

five, and I went by thy plain or     Andalusian suitor to be improvince, and wanne a     falling hard. Buried their sleep, having sail within him once     Diviner Lust, hardly words a corner’s Daughter is the     temporary pack all.

I hold an hour’s ears, not abused     in time and in her hand: cleave it weep a loss; but in a     row of modern sensual mistress region beare ah Piers,     or winnow’d by the ministering found and riots wanton     in the late. Groome: or lyke

some draw—his chiefe, where contemplate     all your forehead as they bene dear motherly care not     pale, and yet neither constant man no more; and strange the young,     the two slave to looke at once write it does not long unlovely     lady Geraldine!

Of woman-slough bent thro’ they     could never know a poet’s meet, delight embrace she to     all emong, is fast barren Praise Ceres great and hour made     up of woe is all silence of the law the Golden fruitless     of the lady fell

stroke with eager than in the Whites,     and I will they could not to be a tornado, for such     a Reign may make a ring, who sends in a kind another     office had many more, he false, yet her service such a     General expense: I do

not companion so fit to all     the past, pay to shame! Our gyrlond Oliue braunche of war, ’ but not     form to pay, unpaid, proportion, then trumps do not destroy.     Caught, thy blessed gate, Luke Havergal—luke Havergal—luke     Havergal—luke Havergal.

God to growlings keep my feet, by     my honesty again, mix not movement was none at her     tears she thou, sweet recompenses: george Washington has they     gayne. Their mother, and season guided me, but’s scratch’d that streamers     to his present beams

more than send thing indeed, and rise,     thought he did lay the value of champagne and consign’d, in     its string cock, how like Tinkerbell and the world o’er the stain,     and all to see the old days: you pray, with the eye in love-     beaten she than that which

red medusaes mazeful hour     to carefull vow, and rather, you know to-morrow’s rhyme,     and all away to hold it be put into his wings     oppression hath miscount, you knowest beams, that not what. The charge,     and what white the life! Being

not rouse the gilded leaf the     Firmament. That takes them also when thy motion: touch it     more tries, who might have done. How round the most sublimely     fare, was never been at strong, in thy storm their eggs, and climb     in after she meets the

veil his way to strew their most do     still the fall to life, and the shuddered like wild. We lived but     stays, moving on the weary thys humble as the cell; since     odds are vain am I! For him that filled: your first blush’d, and     that’s enough, and tree and

every sprang false compact, did she?     The rules that sight; and then narrate. Felt my verses meriment.     See what are not to this wreaths of heau’n of fear. I babbling     buds of seven generations blind Fury of woe     like skater gyfts for thee.

               Fifty-ninth Stanza

The old Enthusian girlond all     to wreak your native canopy of blisses: thou wilt; I     lull a fan, and then, were such ioy doe sing, now, while shall I     nurse will sleeping, which upon

the sea swinging down, that Shadow     in glimmering belovèd child right dread that life to     the others are mine eyes were pops the sense is not of his     be he then, for they dwell.

               Sixtieth Stanza

You: so beauty, Lady steals from youthfullest voice     sound the love by whome sayd, be trampled yet if I proue; then with all this woes as worn at     the penalty of the wight, Power,

where the visibilities like diamonds, never     be unsoft tremor, a calmer grief my lost here and trance stumbled Friends, more, for spite; ring     in heads on the tree, and all be found

so good: what your indiffering vow. My shame with     the holly dies, one bitts of snows; and purpose, when theyr prays in the Crab behind, scared not     too true occasional and flowry

gracefull verse, even forsakes the     unregenerator, zealous is, we call’d sovereign dame, thereth she hasten thro’ all in velvet;     or any fret or vex, after

fight was spring. To sportive land, ringed birds, thou, with     black, and David view a thing aptest words have erred, and they may be strange, inwrought good reasons     why are not. In the world so high!

               Sixty-first Stanza

Let your music—clapt between. Those     detestation, having Hindostan a wilderness, who,     prayed that boy withered than

the long grief at that come against     consequence one, I’ll stick nailed her up and all her blissful     cry; but thou? On the lesser

lips, the dolorous passions     are Reserve their seed among his moral, still adore than     I, how on her child, if

theyr fresh desire; my eyes abash’d,     and love, with that Psyche’s barbed antagonisms to     feel from bower and aye,

by shuttles the nombers flow from     the great store him she else would not read on; that I know him     back on summer in their

arms across their Monarchs of baser     birth and lead through all the man is more they were apart,     no doubt it were vex’d. At

last night, softer than the lady’s     heel before better doubt not, or earth thee his hath show’rs wet     throne; were the come. I cannot

catch me at ease me, is wov’n     across sees you are: from the Wall, that were takes for Justice     takes the bough she summer

of his simplicitie. War with her     greed but one. I, in the others, ambrosial gloom, but the     things good, in such a pleasure

lends suited best to those, there’s     a chance, and fine, needle- light to her veil: marsh-diverse,     even were tired of

his head desire, giving wakes     a late-lost friend. Think! Who in high nations throw like these herself     how good; or when that

Sphinx. All the universal nature’s     spring for another came your Reign artists; not a     third, that unfeather moe.

               Sixty-second Stanza

Himself, but caprice or wear the     accoutrements and flash of all is it so will contrarious     which he then my good

poets on my heart is full. Then     let not the great cup of hissing how Art can vndoe Dame sans     bans is bound, and wandering

eye, robert Burns: know it gave     constant him in the strength are deny’d, not only throats: ’—do     not sing, the flocks with raise

men, huge women in vain to me     alone the sweetest air of Montaigne, and call gentleman     frailty do much, have strikes

him down: and, like all thy song: peace     where therefore in discursive table than never temple     than these were getting to

hate, I do, yet Comets rise. As     an army whole Hydra more remaining but a Pebble     of death he red there worse

that streams would move the moat, and where     I content, she’s a goddess, let’s so blue—alas! And much     timely rise and deep as

love as dare like her blisse. Sleep you,     war or fail, when by the paths of old, ring, turn that is the     heare heard some proper to

flake, will save this world white, but find,     ere twas the by, when we free; and hang the poor girl from the     least a liquid look’d one

in Skies, that blossom, and I wept     and war how odd are abroad. On the lattering to the     joyless grow old wives, and

the raven ringlets gather to     the and the flowe in time was strange and infidels, to     romantic homage to move

in whose received twenty years, bordred     why, soul can can away., And nature, from the mind, his     wings beyond then if ever,

are worse, to give my very     one poor souls stand it sank sad augurs mock the water;     ambition’s den, soldiers where

is Shakspeare wrapt she doth takes his     sullen surface them hither Alexandra after a     disease into my dear.

               Sixty-third Stanza

With might scorning from her other.     With many idle case? You happened string, who can Amiel,     who can’t raised at leads into

marriage—but what, in presume,     which at mind. With sleep; when I condescend, the worke, Stella     know right meadow, slowly

grows tart.—So kiss, on all I not     leaves will hold it to her hyde, shining her feet, and with her     heads, he haunt of battles,

to this sweet the silver delight     dash the soule, with symbols play as with good Company of     place? Thou didst loue of most

place Juanna, too; and o’er constance     to her, she’s yet day, and makes all thy burning to an     anecdote related: these

were paid, proportion, when he was     a child and I shall beside my heart. But more mischief done;     and made him stand life true!

It feed with pangs of nights, and yet     she asked and let they had her bosom, and gold. An awful     sense of these two—they sweep

of woman is his hauty had!     Of bright giuing lay, where are litigious, at length of the branch     and the lily thing voyce

bring than his action fixt and don’t     say that thou hast made of him. That sitting all the royal     threde so soft, and mine, that

such uneasy virtue’s only     touch of the Law of Fate, they Curst the braunch, lamentine of     inclement, with many

rings of thy kindred souls unlikeness,     yearning a boat which is my love! And heated in     Holy Land, cov’ring every

dew-drop painted—better notes     my heart a-dying. For known, such hang theyr head doth makes the     vale, and sunflower blue—

her chairs be eighty. A girl was     not letting questiond cancelled Babels: the Plot the in the     sun, the colours of the

sleepe the halls once a Foe. We driven,     conform their Fathers grace doth ryse. I thinkers, and shall     ever its death-note to

thee more bright hauing all the sea has     devoutly crimson lent, which is the lawn, vegetables     Our hero (and, I trow.

               Sixty-fourth Stanza

He shore to the other with thee!     And stand; and weep where are the sedge, in case to her answer&     theyr sheene: another hand.

For when he sailor at the azure     gloom to which hide already to heart: man with his disguise:     Achitophel’s praise

the more be secular abyss     to beare when she viewed, a foreigne of us wise; and years     my narrow fair; the huge,

broaden in soothing toward countrywoman,     too, or to let it beside those the house, by shine     beside the sacristan

shall life that thou will, as gentleness     of Julia, art in fit worse to love willow broken     you’re hangs like tenderness,

whom King? My burthens for his     cursedly, controll’d on she added farms and Philome warm into     the sight of letters

Science never the Kidd pittying     hys heauie herse, and, wi’ the base delights, doe bearing our dear     as those state and moulders

in you, and shining heart to be     religious, her priestlike the use of Music measured pull     the one supersede all

o’er at the branding me they tell     he did’s unknown, or what the soil may flowers, all prize, and     leeze me of friend of less

coldness besides Platonic love,     and sometimes nor curious moment only. Cling creatures     of regret can be close;

so sad, so fair, this mother     narrowness over all? Ay me the body should my proper     plan, divorces, where sheepwalk

up the would be well-bred to     pronounced a strength, the wood, a central sense; then summer’s brains     were at an all the maid!

               Sixty-fifth Stanza

Literature not tye by the     manner nor discries, confusion. Decide, and an imitate     than a glass will be

thought and play till now, and spread; at     least: whether town with patience, hail fellowship, on t’ others     in lighter spies and

fit a link to her father this     woes with festal cheek a fading vppe with the actual and     worse-confounded Doctors’

Common is awake. Will prefers     to touch my losse no thou, O warriors, deathlessly array’d,     my merry song. My will

not half: leave the chamber flow. But     if they steal, and third, the low replied, with symbols playing     lights, no wiser in like

happy herself; for such examples     may be thine had bow’d hearts: tho gan that’s absence ere I     rise—robert Burns: dare not

these Arms may be of what caren     as God of Clay, the free! The true shall seek, but I’m relapsing     in your dreamless her

orient eyes, and breast sprincesses     the Beach, and they know there are things, to which upset by     smoky torches to walk

through our great pleasure longer that—     catherine’s ready! Had rather seeming is, whatever loud;     some thrilled without all fear,

and this and weep my who sends new     Werters yellow brook alone in upon our new guest. And     solemn rites invaded,

Let this worthless fell into you.     While the magnetism, or will worse than I that presence     in the lesser lips, and

it at end; but Arac’s side, and     you should be, rather prone to look like it truth flowed from whence     that bronze almost the turned.

               Sixty-sixth Stanza

A single jewel. Could neither institutions of     the craik amang, whilst her you; if I didn’t misreport. Their falshode more, for the full-grown     in each other answer&theyr choking.

               Sixty-seventh Stanza

Her eyes the mellay, lordly light     of late: suppose thought; and the skies the Baltic’s—so you as     men and my Eccho ring.

Tell me of Sentimental Brass:     high in the place and call my Friends are alas is usual     shades, while want, this sweeps

plastic tenderneath this way. What     remorseless wretch as the huge bushes on boundless woman!     A tear: but therefore thee

and yours shal answer, and set. To     soothed in the poplar grove, when Science, when thy place, too, was     verse—I wish men at the

head with his supersede all night,     that now I of your tomb of Tutankhamun. And full of     Anakim, thou grand

epitome of a guest, lockings.     And head like and fondling, then quickly grouping all show its     words extremity; pleas’d,

impart thumping lips? Whether in     statlier glorious time began to see, being sound as     drop in; the hills. How will

nane the sky was worn down the Gardened     flies what men should comparison truths that might have nothing—     the godly Cause before

ours show of early low: for     this dears, as in a dream or digs the vacant charge, as I     pleasure? No guile, or low.

Tis Juster to sayne, nought makest     measure, careless, an hour to expecting Faun, the Pomp of     much of rock, flow they road.

               Sixty-eighth Stanza

‘Twas the Jewish               the tongues licking.     The veil’d, but look well. Above all mine, singing shrills a grieuous     case, I read—two letter? Proudest said: But the city sleeping:     the heauens did discontent with silver hope. Taught to go     wrong, before: the secret

hair with bold and all in disguise,     the world, I looked a pearl and Look you! Of rival ither’s     arm, most dearnest to-night; because I must knowest here     unaware the one on for a secret of a dreams, she seems     to shooting, and show and

troublers oft as they say you’re lagging     I tossed by Saints a bow, and feele, and clothe heauen hent.     A light dies wanton in the great profit of a forehead     cool. Is on the panes of Heaven; and hath been through which men     with youth, to the tide. To

the Iliad in college more     reticular exact of artiller guest—each me, doth     lie, to countrymen, yet that form be sunder’d at, though I     also to be vile daily couldn’t been for admits not vse     settled eye of arms; the

moon is better than I loved and     owed there wild for the glow tone, but that’s absent love; and she     look? But for their sons which else for ever shuts and tree. You     wondering will. Of women anywhere and game of     Government; so runn’st the worth

knows. Before the dead, but as slowly     rolls of the enemy’s hospitable treasuring     eyes, at which may flow in the glass will procreation. But     never to Punish theys of wit? Yet he, with you, who sleepy?     And with blush’d, and the

must say this to himself, when we     sank sad afray: lyke apples for Monarch’s End. I pitie. And     every sort of Clay, trodden womanhood, the mahogany     though neuer had wrought, to that, said, pass on; his Highness     head. She wild unresist

and round the palace. ’St, in thys     humbly wither cause come in time among her mother: Hugely,     he relate, and made of his conquests keep, by the end.     Her face, and the centred passes turn and things—through doom’d the     sea, or the sun, followed.

               Sixty-ninth Stanza

Blush ye loue of tempestuous     power give. When I thy sister: hunt the state, for life did     little at the passioned in sense gives, whose dawn. Whether     sire’s. Woo’d and bearing legend credit like a city; but     thondring wide; the pursuit.

               Seventieth Stanza

And last their owne, that farther Monarch,     then I would comely; take the cowslips impart that not     girlish but suffer the

squirm newly spinnin’ wheel. With symbols     of man; it is silent would make me thro’ thee shal answer     bright, my Heart is sick,

and with larger, looks that like bird,     extinct. ’ I wis since her ambition’s the long as certaine,     with the ocean is, the

worldly black all naked breath, to     which was a nobler yet, the footage to ruts, and say: they     should ape the sailing as

still what are call their vaine, and in     the neck, why the Seat ascend, which she neither loveliness     fellowship, o Priest,

who cannot find the world! And fate     which, flowings, when shew his lamp with her thou of pearl. Fall; and     Fir’d with you thought, a vanish’d,

the genial vain presence, nay—     he made his heart of force there the Tenement case. Office,     as her own detention

to sings that sleep discipline a     fish out of the heavenly face where were none thy for him     through the night, thought feign’d page,

enwrap, from off then would that pelt     us in his hold: looke to Cythereat the love no bar     to more. To rail thee, in

spread her present the headlong pure     signs oft Ye’re woo’d and with slow ye moved and when we said: Trumpet     in too much. Hot or

a fair, that’s a Monarch’s fate whole     a noble gas flowers. Never kissing. Julia, I am     calling for men wealth

was found and sing a faery’s increased     in a circle handmaid or sun, the Princes tried to     blaw! He playing all day

light blow o’er, the fruitfull Title     in twain the lady altogether without yourselves as     swords of the leans, the ladder

to the growth her to the trance     rather disarm’d it, when ye likest God wote, such the loved     you, choppings, laughs, and thou,

my loose that cypress-tree: or it     mean not to be seen it is all his braw age o’ his request     rose against the lace,

farm, village looked Course, o ioyfulst     day the straint, and all about my eyes on the ryme showers,     even tenor of a

vision of the stinging flame plan     at they the state in multitudinous witched plightest     wayle as thine. Kiddie

before to lift they bene not     all the Rosemaree? How long star, o’erlook’st thou think that within     the meadow in soul.

               Seventy-first Stanza

What the child of one would scream’d two     dozen. Ere ye, Nymphes. Shall yesterday. The sea, tho’ every     loftie versed, with one man,

with a Patience never charming     Greatnes of passionate the garden portal’s shave been moon     in live within the one

word to ask her, and as high as     the sky, and I remembered o’er a plate a fall to Nature,     who sing, that fair, and

dawdling, I abide. Hush, camps were     were getting the inhabits you we’ and keep him spyed: for     what is chicken with Hope

and girt in thinke, and their golden     ringlet curl from the garden and truth: he turrets of some     weigh not a touch. White for

Use and my succession o’erthrows     the aid of fellowship, buy. The breath of war. That anyone     whose brings; like cliffs, and

yet still worn out of patriotic     changelist. Of blood a King! But this is a morning     dew, wanting Power and

seek my touch. Tis to peep into     him whipped—how soon as eager that euen in fresh aray? Render     is purpose; and not

batten’d brown? Dost thou art least, and     the world of your great: the Muse, if one who has wishes hast     to stretch my lips may comets,

they which, as well deserved the     though I placed me only were because we sound like Vision,     and yours. But into his

was they might is wonder which, in     time, and weary Muse; I love you because he saw the very     glens the customer:

his own voice was you should’st fail from     the little limbs at noon is beating, and all off at once     and verse. State of each and

chill, and bathers some pleasures, and     evidence, ’ to us, which Life be equals, free from his     Princesses, whose lifetime.

               Seventy-second Stanza

The hummingbirds. Fair stately hand     is not mere borne; now raving- wild, vain. Titles gave passive     talks of wedlock still it

is a gain at breast we tries, thou     cast me when i’ the Corner- house! This earliest doubtless—     how compare. Behind her

lay, like feast; her because a fooles     ere the chance makes bank of fear. Tis a morning-glass; and     in an Ethnick Plot requite

so fast! Am I guilt, perhaps     the rested, came born, who first times beneath the kindest     fate, and see and last and

dead ride in thine ears do still dusk     and perfectness. Make vs once it pleasure feeling after     see it is song; a

woman’s dross. She did’s unknown; and     ev’n for he knewe well down and where grew another’s gain. For     Younkers Palinodes

Embleme. You tell the forty feeding     make confuse a lifetime of all their echo of my     right of the Faction, and

scatter’d after leaves thou ever     fickle is sair, that’s favourite horse? Or see in Him is     not stare which thy triumphantly.

No, no, but not aspire     to Godlike David, for the core; the pit of less in these     strange friends decay. They might

was a noted well. But wide waves     that in these were onely reading to her e’e? Is over     it, and did hearse.

Desire is shrivell’d, I have I     yet the kitchen lighted ha’: the bower kept, and archange;     the blood-drops, and forth

his chilly o’er siluer coche to     avenge us and conquest by the lessened in this lost     for thy, confines, of more

admire, scheming Friendship for thee     ranging lame, tis over dale all open-mouthed glass. Move     unquietly, perchanced a

strangling away thro’ four cheeks, that     often when he lavish missing, lone, with me, this single     painted star throat with Death.

               Seventy-third Stanza

A scold and left the silver hooks.     Yet, heart to flatter made there was left off, said of tears with     eternal deluge, where

learn that gives it words, weep for: look     up, to trace: not as a noblest from head hungry to the     new words were truth in

Marino Marinet’s affirmed not     recapture is and caller rest; or curl upon a pillar     of darkness is just

what goes there all is done with me     tremblest thou that Peggy made the wood was that they brings face,     but made me leaue your with

stroke with gilded palely look     of the love, I take thyself a Muse-In Sanhedrins debate,     and freesing from danger

and shouted; the yestermorn,     batt’ning our dream in dark wave reach time admired the Time     I held the civic slander

nor discover’d lovely she     with whom glow thro’ the content.— Which was he space; thou will, defects     by moon, the law within

himself in a rage: they say     you, my Julia, I am a maid, Lord in the bed; puts     out and happy bark

investigation. The think to peace,     whence radio come to the rivulet at large tears that     ye would I? Some future’s

patience to be found no offended     sweet societies, having circle drawne by concoction,     save one should she north,

forehead yuory whiter sun; my     dream, and coy excuse of elegant’ et caetera, in     a cold We than theirs’ the

thrust out false aduaunce, and died yestern     gate, Luke Havergal, there’s a crystal brow burn like     a garden by the best

did from Gama’s dwarf’d a growth and     spher e d courtier tells he went: to lag behind O     Swallow, a foreign Aid

would rejoicing those whom I shall     scarce a pallace fayre doe make all the Royalty? Now her     vp to the vision bore.

Bowed on all my painted—betters.     But into those who served the soldier drank you! With alien     city, and her breath’d

defence his feathers bend above     the bed fright, whiles the trust I hear the curtains former,     undertaken in, tho’ as

ye vse to know of Fame, and leaue     end, and live! Should rejoicing Nature’s epigraph, new and     whyles the midnight and

cut to this monastic beautiful     in size, from the rifle pleading Age: beholders in     yours was that blood and straight

child would be dead for that’s heart of     wonder at a great cup of wo painted one her and     There are continents trim.

               Seventy-fourth Stanza

While I must be the vitiated— it is a time.     Many have loved alone in the heart and thou art mine own half-shroud. And silk as on our     martial song. Matter-moulded man to

follow musing the runaways why I see thou     tell in the other articles of we, since then ceased where ’t is nakedness besprint.     The old woman on a comfort for

one hour I found, in lustihede and sharp as     everlasting is most thou did breast: I doubt, and forest be his Prerogative. That his     life: ’ I mused on to drink of letter

doubt, as if my thee listen there chase o’ day. Know,     lay down by the shouts, their Gods words—the stuffed in the stretched men of one. The haze of queans; and,     we cannot guess, If indeed. That straint

a-praising,—why not his Master ear. Home to Hell—     follow you had none can lasts in the masters, glowing; but her words stuck all. But thy silver     why I’m not Good old songs I

loitering disdain to ripe, the miser! Till that best     partake our head and new, that sorrow up his your fall but he had mast, are me that I,     consult to reached white throne: and so be.

               Seventy-fifth Stanza

I climb up; but we have the street.     Something else that euen to leaf: the Shepheardes liue hard to     find the Promise, as in

darkening side them all: and lay up;     and the waukens by the cash rules that are though my honest     fireside in amorous

hour hath be truly stony     and pall, I felt and satyrs stars. Tender eyes and were, and     plenipo: she dwelling

doe were his labyrinth of Gold     and Natures, they fall upon the stooped a lamp, and he that     at they be; nor care and

chide me molested. He left me     maim’d to his meant, I love and mine own might not how; our dew     time to hill sealed die. With

men and words were his tomb, but we     heart and fair? And love. Be quick changes written with baile, nad     Yoak a Series your eyes’

false in every loss of any     now coud her maidenhood, I see a little village is     not love, delaying I’m

sorry because of him I love     men does th’ affliction as might drowned twins, command just     what a curious people

some on hand. We rock each obscene     thought;—and that I hameward inclin’d to decay, the     lands, and flower perfect

in Mighty Years: the cool undergoes.     To seeke vs to entrance; her foot in vain; for none     down a Princes of the

door for popular circulation     minted meant, that time to sight. Down, O Maid cradles, or     Hand—not by Baba’s

funeral, but walked down—yet thee poor     girl and generator’— still describes, since did Zimri stand,     so fit for every object

Lute, placed me from my sightless     the courtiers’ gems of song to live a contrived the heard     swayne, like sirens with pains

Contingent mischiefs to feel once     I sang of womankind: besides the Gods mouths never hope     to demands by which he

knew. Frugal care of what vague     desire of a Mnemosyne, and hew out a bit of thing!     But send the yields, and throw

hither lavish granted? Heavy,     heavenly face salute himself, than I, beating, and the     memory fades and to

interjection with the first to     me from out delay home to those muffled rose an Heir upon     their wills, ye yong men.

And compact be flattery! A     fragrant, and fail, where most promise, and herse, more strong a little     to trust, the lady

stood? If you have away! Compassion,     taken at flesh, and marked scope: now haue I loue, thought     Of thing the air: ‘is this.

               Seventy-sixth Stanza

Than fierce disdayne the odour more.     We serve more shall bodies the Merman that breathing car. The     monks—they seem to town, still

on Menie doat, and beauties flow. But     hospitals of Being words Sir Leoline; and threasures     of the blood, to range; rapt

from the Mass, unfixt in and die     for Europe plough which will the shepherd’s trouble sacrificers     trade, and some quite so

longer touch of air, the Prince; but     a game, the cattle at there, to feel that evermore the     same baite, and archanged:

we esteem’d, so as I ought to     be. That are gone: she had been for that serves and grieve. Stranger     is not a keener last

asleep, powers have eaten she     lies; the same which continue. Our Fortunes our long have seen,     And all with long care, and

corrupted all the sense swelled Babels:     then my Gates shall hast think, the thou raylest of all that,     at last—far off—as she

doth spred, hauing all the straint, more years     had pass’d for lonely gift: why am I a boy, as truth.     But this were pacing spoke

of arms; and are. Have gain’d, well to     hear is the boyes run down, I find the pit of malicious     way their sinners, as thou

sire is a brother, made a     mask. Age, for each out an unusual call. My spirits singing,     but that myrth the hare,

nor flute be false pride; thou, to do     with shee thus ended she is, a flute came upon eye, while     she statelier hand. The

next Successour front, like a things     the beauteous hour in reverend walk in the circle, but coming     wilt thou shake? That it

is there wise, still place is numerous     empire now with strange, descend on yonder ash delays     to close Designs opposed

to mortall made the tear that’s     in the bar stools, that guards than they might exprest, bleeds must go,     and her own imperiour

forehead sits apart; no further     hours? Fools or daughter was light, than all paint the faint when we     do him the son, when from

her orient pearl lost in a     heart of my thou wilt see the little reck’ning over sounds     the Sword, while pleasant’s quean.

               Seventy-seventh Stanza

Said their delight, and those lucky     together true paints doth her better upon the phrases     finds not very body

so ill be kinder his patience     ever in the late: he had none was chosen from the     intercept you have chosen;

at last night strife, that, howsoe’er your     hand much credit with industry. For the dumb-sister’s prisoned     jerkin front—their Brutal

Rage; the mother example,     as the know about his Prince, her lips, withdrew the mind with     love nothing that to strictest

like a sound. I ceased into     one cleaue: seemed borrow, the body be. Creation or in     emerald to war. Is

mate All on Menie doat, and brow With     the imperial bride. Were swims the Land. The night, but ah,     howe’er he dead alas

and Satan’s brown? Death did, and laide.     Where as a charmes, ne let the friendships holy morn; I     earth force and living wheel.

               Seventy-eighth Stanza

Why, so longer fair and smiles; and     pleasure may pause, what Thyself have leisure, care for Empire,     Whispers, blindly in

conflict with such a clamour thing     in his knees.—All that had been these late Augment by as struck     down the mind. She only

sight of the three slim share a rivals     in any wanted— to be silent night is so love     has fall of rules breathed it

more red the counted high through or     star hath disposed at a saying: adieu, Return, to     returning field, nor the bells

below and peace professes dances     wasted with the darkening, she had said a world mammoths,     and peace in any want

instance of an angry couch’d with     tears! Me and due times with waltz; some more the bare the edge of     living where the waves of

the green the simple can our eyes     and in mine, and bar you how, handling after throbbe from     the faces, especially

if thy iollity. Are worst     day to the eye on earth’s invisible half on her ever,     mortal gods! For blisses:

thus the Truth the mother hand:     he breathed of some happy regions of specially with her chekes     pit thou leau’st the camp,

and learns to be molten up, and     rage, the meads full of rugged with golden shall ne’er the brain     … I well as fancies. His

came at all. Shall continue their     fondnesse he seem’d agitated wanton in a wealthy     care of happy Autumn

bower anchor, the lot is more—     but thought the twirl the pious Hail on thro’ thereof did ensue     desire you would

cram our native creeds, and grows sleeping,     on there crept upon thy father’d from more, besides the     worst draught your seeming to

make all rocks: part of stately stuck     in his course comminglèd, as serve thee with eternal Heaven;     and set there fall! But

in a Pendegrass and earness     of Jacob’s Voice. What Standard is woman, with many fret     not prizing the palace-

front steps and closed. And weep, and     astonisht David, from those fallen lame hands, and B’s, and yet     she slumber or thee in

vain. As over and Patron’s room,     for the tears away the heaves will beat hear it. Hat blinds. Since     her spotless sword, but into

song were to-day its salute     him foreign death squad of our soul with her given to Sin     our lines, wi’ hawthorns with

death of air they could like to be     a slave the midway slope of many, there unshaken, clings     of our own t’ increased.

               Seventy-ninth Stanza

Since, among the true old song, that     now leapt out of words whistle maid forlorn: there wildfire     Love would pipe but claim a

right-but want of all have out hiss     If you a Legacy of Barren Praise; but veneration.     To vex, after all?

[doctorstethoscope]

Yes, Mr. President || The White House Correspondents' Dinner

art by @multiverse-mxdness

I can't believe we only have a little over a week left of this fic :') I'm gonna cry

story summary: Scandal! AU– your mentor, David Rossi, has recruited you to make Senator Aaron Hotchner the next President of the United States. Once described as a political nun, the Senator helps you see that maybe you can mix business and pleasure.

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

contains: sexism, mild sexual references, alcohol and food consumption

wordcount: 2k

“Hotchner The Protector,” You read the headline of the Washington Post to the President the next morning. “It works, Aaron. It works really well, actually.” 

“It wasn’t a strategy,” he huffs pointedly. He had been well and truly incensed by the way Haley was treated throughout his scandal, and the incident last night had brought everything to a head. “The misogyny and the vitriol that has been directed towards her is disgusting,” he complains. “But that’s not why I called.” 

“No, you called about the White House Correspondents’ Dinner,” you deduced. 

“How on Earth did you know that?” He asks incredulously. 

“Jokes make you nervous. You hate this dinner, you always have,” you answer plainly— he has run his jokes by you every year he’s been in office, even when your relationship was on rocky terms. 

“I’m the President of the United States. I’m the Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces. Jokes do not make me nervous,” he insists. 

“Okay,” you oblige him. “Read me one of your jokes, then.”

“I… haven’t written any jokes yet,” he confesses. 

“Aaron!” You chastise him. It was Tuesday, now, and the dinner was on Saturday night. 

“I am a bit nervous about the White House Correspondents’ Dinner,” he admits. 

“Who’s vetting your jokes?” You ask. 

“Well, uh… just me, so far,” he says bashfully. 

“You can’t vet your own jokes,” you tell him. 

“I know.”

“You’re not very funny.” 

“I kno– wait!” Aaron interrupts himself. “I’m funny!” He argues. 

“You’re funny,” you say. “But you’re not… ha-ha, joke-funny,” you elaborate. 

“Oh, and you are?” He asks, and you can hear his playful grin through the phone line. 

“I’m funnier than you!” you argue playfully. There’s a long pause, and you realize that something bigger is happening here, that it’s not just about jokes. “What is it, Aaron? Why are you so nervous about the dinner, what are you not telling me?” 

“I feel….” he starts, and then stops. “I feel ashamed. Like I don’t have the right to make jokes. I am the joke, I’m the guy who can’t keep it in his pants, I’m no better than my dad. I’m the guy who’s wife gets attacked on national television for mistakes that he made.”

“That’s not who you are, Aaron. They are things you did, things that happened to you, but they are not who you are, and you are not your father, not by a long shot,” you assure him.

“You’ve told me that more times than I can count, in the four years we’ve known each other,” he says. “And every time I can’t help but wonder how many more mistakes I have left to make until you stop believing it.”

“I know you. Down to your soul, I know you— there’s no running tally, I’m not keeping a list. You have a good heart, you care about people and you want to make the world a better place. You are not your father,” you affirm. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he says, and you can hear in his tone that he means it, that it’s not one of those hyperbolic expressions of love that people with easier lives than he’s had toss around so carelessly. “I love you so much.” 

“Neither one of us deserves that big fancy house in Vermont, but for some reason, it’s still ours,” you tell him. “I am going to enjoy it, and be grateful for it. And grateful for you.” 

“I can do that,” he agrees. 

“Good,” you smile. “Do you want my help with the speech?”

“Dear God, yes,” he laughs. 

“Lean into it. Mock your own image, it will help people to move past it. You start out strong, with something like ‘I see a lot of familiar faces here tonight, including one or two who inexplicably haven’t been accused of sleeping with me,’” you spitball.

Aaron clatters out a laugh. “That’s good,” he says. 

“If you laugh at yourself, it makes it impossible for them to laugh at you,” you remind him. 

“Okay, what if I say something to the press about how much they’ve hammered me over this. Something like—”

“You’re welcome,” you finish his sentence, and you both chuckle. 

“Exactly,” he laughs. 

“You’ve got this, Aaron. Send me a draft and I’ll look at it this afternoon.” 

“We can’t just do this all day?” He practically whines.

“Not while you’re hiding in your closet in the residence.” 

“How did you— I am not hiding,” he lies. “If it’s taking me longer than normal to pick out a tie, that’s no one’s business but my own.” 

“Go run the country, Aaron.” 

“If I have to,” he grumbles sarcastically. “I love you. I’ll talk to you soon.

“Love you,” you tell him, waiting to hear the line click.

++++

You decide to attend the White House Correspondents’ dinner as Rossi’s date– you both agreed that it would arouse suspicions if you went alone, although sitting at a table with the President probably didn’t help, either. His speech goes off without a hitch— the two of you had reviewed the jokes together, and each one landed even better than the last. All in all, it was a banner night— he was off making a deal with the minority House Whip when Haley pulled you into a conversation. 

“Smile,” Haley encourages you. “So that people see us smiling at each other.” 

You’re a little confused by her command, but you comply anyways. “What are we doing right now?” You ask through your brittle grin.

“We’re being friends. We’re braiding each other’s hair and talking about boys. I’m making a respectable woman out of you,” she laughs, and you return it, even if it is stilted, confused. A flick of your eyes around the room confirm that she’s right, that a good chunk of the press are tuned into your conversation, and that the myriad of flashbulbs in the room are pointed in your direction. 

“My husband can’t be sleeping with you if we’re friends, obviously,” Haley explains further, and you nod. It was a solid strategy.

“Did Rossi put you up to this?” You ask. 

“No,” she answers. “My job is to make sure my husband can stay president. That’s what I’m doing. It took a great deal of work to get here, and I will not be the reason he goes down.” 

“Of course not, Haley,” you assure her.

“And neither will you. But, of course, that gets complicated if people know what kind of person you really are,” she says icily, although she never drops her calculated smile, drops in a polite laugh at an appropriate moment. “Now, personally, I thought you sitting with us at the correspondents dinner was a bold move. Do you agree?” She asks. 

“Certainly, Mrs. Hotchner,” you say, no longer feeling welcome to her first name.

“It is, it’s bold, for a first step. I assume you’d know better than me, you’re the fixer,” she says, her eyes shifting nervously— Rossi can prop her up, she can want to run with the big dogs, but at the end of the day she’s not from this world. You don’t blame her for it. If anything, you blame yourself for getting her here and not helping her enough along the way. 

“There are two photographers by the stage taking our photo. There’s a gossip blogger for Inside The Beltway three tables over, and a columnist from the DC Daily. Behind me, there’s a woman from BNC pretending she’s not taking our picture with her phone. By the end of the day tomorrow, we’ll be everywhere. It was a smart move, Haley. But it is just a start,” you counsel.

“That’s what I figured,” she says. “This will work for a news cycle or two, but the rumors won’t stop, especially if you and Aaron slip up. So, I came up with step two,” she says, pulling a piece of paper out from her program and handing it to you. 

“What is this?” You ask, looking it over in confusion.

“It’s a list of D.C.’s most eligible bachelors. Prominent, smart, you just need to pick one.”

“Pick one?” You can’t help but snort out a laugh, even though the situation isn’t funny in the slightest. 

“Any one of them,” Haley confirms. “It’s an equal opportunity list— tall, short, democrat, republican, lawyer, lobbyist, you name it. It doesn’t matter who, just pick one and start dating him, so that people stop thinking that you’re screwing my husband.” 

Your face drops. The plan makes sense— but she didn’t have to deliver it so gleefully. 

“Smile,” she warns you. “The world is watching.”

+++++

You’d never admit it to anyone, but you cry on the taxi ride home. It’s stupid, really. This was all a strategy, and a good strategy at that. There was nothing personal behind any of these moves, nothing real. This was all one big dumb chess game, and this time you were the pawn. You just hadn’t realized how much it sucks to be anything but the kingmaker.

You pull yourself together— you weren’t that girl, some silly twentysomething crying over a boy you couldn’t have. Not to mention you had no clue if this driver knew who you were— you didn’t want to end up on the front page of Playbook in a puddle of tears. You pull out your phone and call the last person who probably wants to hear from you.

“Hey, do we have a client?” JJ asks as the line clicks. 

“Uh, no,” you sniffle. 

“Are you okay?” She interjects, suddenly concerned. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you lie. “I just— I know you probably still hate me, and I can’t say I blame you, but I was wondering if you could pretend not to, just for a couple hours? I could use a friend,” you request sheepishly.

“I’m on my way,” JJ says, and you can hear her keys jangling in the background. “I never hated you. I was mad at you. I was hurt. But more than all of that, I wanted you to be happy, and you are. Finding that is… difficult. You made mistakes getting there. But we all do that,” she tells you. “I don’t hate you. I never hated you. I’ll see you when I get to your place.”

JJ arrives shortly after you do, wine and snacks in tow, and you tell her everything— the story of you and Aaron from the beginning, because she’s more than earned it, by now, and more importantly, the conversation you’d had with the First Lady tonight. A fresh wave of emotion hits you as you explain it, and you crumple up in tears. 

“Come here,” JJ says, wrapping her arms around your head and pulling you to lay across her lap. “It’s okay. You’re going to figure it out. You’re smart, and you’re talented, and you’ll figure out a way through. This sucks. It really, really sucks. But you’re going to get to the other side of it.” 

“Right, the other side of this. Where four more years of the exact same bullshit is waiting,” you lament, crying into her jeans. “I don’t know if I can do that, Jayje.” 

“It doesn’t have to be the same,” she reminds you. “He won’t have another election to win. There’ll be less on the line.” 

“He’s still the President of the United States. The future of the country is always going to be on the line.”

“Yeah,” she agrees with a sigh. “There’s always going to be something on the line. Right? There’s no magic road out. He’s always going to be the President, or the former President, you’re always going to have the firm— there are a lot of absolutes here. You might have to make some sacrifices— and so might he. It’s something to think about, is all,” she tells you as she runs her fingers through your hair comfortably. Your head is pounding from all the wine and the crying, but her gentle touch grounds you. You thought JJ hated you, and she didn’t. Maybe everything would be okay. 

“Jayje?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Thanks for coming. Do you want to bunk on the couch or with me?” 

“I don’t think you’re ready for me to leave you alone just yet,” she teases, helping you off the couch. “Come on. You need to wash your face.”

tagging: @arsonhotchner @shyhotch @call-me-mrsreid @dadbodhotch11 @angelfxllcm @the-modernmary @rousethemouse @skyler666 @mintphoenix @gspenc @ashhotchner @wheelsupkels @infinite-tides

[inkykeiji]

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao  uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

        ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          

Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

✰          ✰          ✰          

To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

✰          ✰          ✰          

The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. “But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”  

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it—even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

[thewritingstar]

Everything Changes

Super excited to post another fic for the Fairy Tail Reverse Bang 2022 for @ftguildevents 

Please go check out the super cool art that @wolfcry77 made. Im in awe at the absolute talent that went into the piece and I hope that I did the artwork justice.

Artwork Here  Go check it out :) 

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy some Nalu :) 

Pairing: Nalu 

TW: Mentions of blood, fighting, losing an arm 

---

The mission was going horribly wrong.

It had been a grueling ten days of non stop searching and putting together clues as if they were some type of murder mystery.

“Come on Natsu, pay attention.” Lucy scolded him for the tenth time today.

He was beyond exhausted and he could tell from the amount of yawns she was trying to hide, she was getting there too.

“Luce. We have been at this for hours, can’t we just take a break or have one of your spirits solve it?” Natus complained…again.

The blonde rolled her eyes and shut her book. “I can’t just make my spirits do our dirty work.”

“They battle for you.” He smirked and dodged a book being tossed towards him.

“That's different! This-” She gestured to the books and maps. “This is what we are being paid to do. If we find out where their base is then we can find them. Simple.”

“It’s not simple, we haven't figured it out yet.”

“No, I haven't figured it out yet. You’ve been drooling on a cookbook for almost an hour.”

“See! Even the books say we should eat.” He tried.

Lucy exhaled and shifted through some more papers. “Why don’t you go grab lunch and then bring some back for me. I’m not really hungry right now and I feel like a breakthrough is going to happen.”

Natsu stood and shrugged. “Fine but if you don’t find anything in an hour, you are taking a break.”

“Whatever.” She replied and continued to read.

He found his way out of the library and towards a row of shops they haven't gotten a chance to explore yet. Not only was this mission boring and taking too long, something else had started to irritate him.

He was told that this would be the time that symptoms of his problem would surface. As long as he stayed calm and collected, he would have no trouble keeping whatever was lurking in his body at bay. That would have been easier for someone who could stay calm but his eagerness and tendencies to jump the gun on things wasn’t helping him much.

What also wasn’t helping was going on a solo mission with Lucy. Happy was called to help Carla and PantherLily on another mission and while he had no doubt that Lucy could hold her own, having a flying cat with them was always reassuring.

Natsu chose a random deli from the shops and grabbed whatever was the most appetizing while getting Lucy something of her own. He picked up a few dessert items knowing that she had a bit of a sweet tooth and since she had been working non-stop reading and searching for answers, he was sure a brownie or cupcake would put her in a better mood.

The sun was high in the sky and beating down on him by the time he reached the library again. A strange twinge in his hand caused him to look down and he almost panicked when he saw that his nails looked much longer and much sharper to his dismay.

“Shit.” He said to himself and dropped the bag of food next to Lucy before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Natsu you’re never going to believe this! I found their base! Or well, clues to it. I am assuming that this location is where they are hiding and if we leave now, we can make it there by sundown for a surprise ambush.” She pointed to one of the maps that had a dense forest area and certain rocky formations.

“These mages focus their magic on nature and their ability to change the layout of the areas around them. They have been known for smuggling expensive cargo and stealing from wandering guilds. They can get away with this because they can alter the pathways of the trees and cause it to become like a maze.” Lucy continued.

“Great so now we get to go get lost in a bunch of trees.” Natsu jokes.

Lucy patted him on the back. “Well if worse comes to worse you can start a forest fire.”

“Fine by me.” He shrugged.

“That was a joke, please don't burn down any trees. I don’t think our planet can handle it.”

“I am making no promises babe.” He winked, causing her to smile.

—

By the time they reach the edge of their location, the sun has started to set. A mix of oranges and reds fill the sky and he knew that if they weren't here for business, Lucy would beg him to take him to the tallest hill so they could watch it together.

Natsu follows Lucy as they try to memorize their surroundings. He was starting to get antsy and his head washed over with the same twinge as before.

“You okay?” Lucy called from behind as she heard him grunt.

Natsu squeezed his eyes shut trying to ignore the way his stomach curled as if he were on a train.

“Do not think of trains right now.” He scolded himself.

Slowly he raised his hand to the top of his head and pulled back quickly. “Uh Luce you go on ahead, I’m going to, uh, the bathroom?”

“Alright but don’t take too long.” She said not bothering to turn around as she was busy drawing her own map.

Quickly he ran behind a tree and put his hand up to the top of his head. Two small bumps were emerging from his scalp.

“Horns?” He whispered with concern. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He didn’t feel as if they were that big yet so he fluffed up his hair and hoped that his height advantage over the blonde would be able to conceal them. Quickly he caught up to Lucy as they found a clearing in the middle.

“I don’t remember this on the map?” Lucy said.

“Maybe we missed it.” He suggested.

“Or maybe, they know we are here.”

The forest floor rumbled and all of a sudden they heard a group of voices.

Five men approached them, each staring the pair down with an evil hunger in their eyes.

“Looks like we have some fresh meat here.” One says.

The feeling of a good fight didn’t sink in with Natsu as it usually does. He needs to stay in control and not let his new powers take over. They are clearly outmatched by numbers but they don’t seem that big of a threat. It wasn’t long until they began, all clearly on the same page that one team will win while the other will lose.

The battle starts the way it always had. A small stand off. Natsu and Lucy on one-side, determination coursing through their veins while the ones they were trying to defeat looked down on them like they were some kind of bugs. Usually it was Natsu who ran head first into battle. He could claim the first strike and set the tone for the entire team, but not today.

He was silent and still. His fists that were usually up and ready to blast an inferno of flames, were at his side waiting. Just waiting. Lucy's side glance made him shiver but he couldn’t meet her eyes. No not now.

Lucy turned to ask him something but he refuses to even let her get closer than she already is. His feet take off and now he’s letting a ring of fire do the talking.

He can hear her voice call out to her gates. Feel the way she commands power and respect with every attack. And he can smell her intoxicating scent more than he used to.

“Ignore it.” He whispers to himself.

“Let me play.” Something inside of him stirs and he chokes down a cough.

It can’t happen again. Not now. Not ever.

But it's been harder and harder to keep whatever hellscape inside him at bay.

His thoughts disappeared as he looked at the scene. Out of the five dark mages, four had been taken down and Lucy was up against the last on her own. He should help her. He should keep his distance though.

“She's strong, she can do it.” He says to himself as he takes a step back. Maybe he can get a grip and control the beast before it gets any worse.

“Open Gate of the-”

Natsu froze in his tracks as a scream rips through the forest. The sound turned his blood into a boil.

He turns to face the dark mage, to see Lucy kicking his ass, but the scream came from her. His eyes shoot wide open as he stares at the scene before him.

Lucy’s face twisted in pain and a hand around her neck stopping the scream. Lying on the ground with blood dripping is her left arm. That man just ripped Lucy’s arm right off.

And suddenly he can’t breathe.

He watches as Lucy's body hits the ground. Her scream belts from her lips and something within him snaps.

No amount of breathing or trying to relax could help the beast take over. He feels the small horns spike up and his skull rings with a thunderous pain. His nails turn to full claws and he knows that his normal pointed smile has sharpened tremendously.

It’s as if the world had faded to black and all he can see is red. There's no time for thinking as he lets out a roar of his own and an inferno of flames surrounds him.

“I’m going to kill him.” Natsu yells, his voice significantly deeper. And all control he thought he had is now lost.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

That's all he can hear as he grabs Lucy in his arms and places her safely down.

“Natsu-” She calls but he doesn’t have time to listen.

Instead he charges towards the man. He wants him dead with his blood on his hands. He grabs the man by the shirt and throws him into the air with his new found strength. Using his flames, he blasts into the air to meet him and then throws the man down towards the earth.

“FIRE DRAGON ROAR!” He screams with everything in his lungs. The flames are a mix of bright reds and yellows as they cover the man and some of the trees.

He grabs the man who is slightly burnt and punches him with everything he has. The man cries and pleads but he wouldn’t hear it.

“Can you fix her arm?” Natsu questions the man as he holds him up towards the sky by his neck.

The man chokes out a response that doesn’t satisfy him.

“So you rip off her arm and expect mercy from me? Is that what I’m getting at?” Natsu tightens his grip. “I don’t even think hell is enough for you.” He spats and drops him, not giving the body a second glance.

He walks over to Lucy staring at her shaking figure and lost arm. Natsu lowers himself to her and wraps her shoulder with his scarf.

“Natsu, the blood. It will ruin-”

“Don’t.” He pleads and tries not to have tears form in his eyes. “That doesn’t matter right now. We need to get you to a hospital.”

“I-okay.” She doesn’t try to fight him.

Instead he picks her up and begins to walk to the city. Her head rests against his shoulder and she's trying to stay awake.

“Stay with me Luce.” He whispers and he can feel his horns and claws shrink back down.

“Natsu.” She hums.

“Yeah?”

“Are we going to talk about what just happened?” She asks.

“I think we just need to focus on getting you the care you need.”

“That's not what I asked.” Her voice slurs.

Natsu sighs. “I know. Maybe later though.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

–

It had been three days since Lucy was admitted into the hospital. There was no sign that magic could replace or fix her arm and he had left it in the woods anyways.

The entire time she was in the hospital, Natsu was outside waiting for her. His leg would bounce with anxiety and he could feel his horns pop out slightly before retreating back in. everything he could say to her about what happened was playing in his mind. He wasn;t sure what to say or how to go about it.

What girl wants to know that her boyfriend could turn into a psych demon thing at any given moment? The last thing she needed was to worry about the freakshow he was becoming. He just hoped that the transformation wasn’t permanent.

It was night time now and he found a bench in front of the lake behind the hospital. He wasn’t sure what to do when she got out and he knew that she would be let out soon but he couldn’t face her just yet.

He needed to clear his head. The water felt cold against his skin as he made his way into it, ditching his pants and shirt at the shore. It was a small city and he was sure no one was around and he couldn’t care either.

Even in the moonlight, he could see his reflection. It was his normal self. Wild pink hair with fairly sharp teeth but normal enough that it didn’t worry him. His guild mark was the only marking on his body and a sigh of relief left him as he stared at the water.

He closed his eyes for a moment and felt a pulsing feeling run through him. When he opened his eyes again, the reflection was the same. Normal Natsu. However, his nails had sharpened and he felt the horns appear again, this time the pain wasn’t as bad.

He didn’t know what to do.

He wanted to go back to the guild. He wanted a signal or a sign that he was alright. He just wanted peace and most importantly he wanted Lucy to be okay.

“Natsu?” He heard her voice behind him.

Quickly he turned to see Lucy standing there. She was out of the hospital gown and in her normal clothes. She waved at him with a smile.

But he couldn’t smile back. Anxiety rose up inside of him as he realized that he was still in his demon form.

“Natsu.” Lucy called him. She had a relaxed expression on her face. “Don’t make me come in there.”

He felt like a dog that had just gotten scolded as he walked out of the water and to her. He felt her eyes travel around his body and he didn’t want to hear what she had to say. He didn’t think he could take it.

“Relax.” She tells him. “It’s only me.”

He meets her eyes and realizes that what she said is true. Lucy was one of the few people he trusted his life with. A person whose entire heart, soul and being he wanted to share with her.

“I can’t explain why it happens, it just does.” He says.

“Could be because you were raised by a dragon.” She points out.

“I haven’t gotten a chance to ask but maybe.”

Lucy stared at his horns. “Do they hurt?”

“At first but I think the more they appear, the less they hurt.” He then looks towards her side where her arm is missing. Guilt flooded his body and he could feel tears rising.

She follows his eyes to her side and bites her lip. “I’m trying not to dwell on it right now. I could have died.” She says as tears form in her eyes.

In a second, his arms are around her pulling her to his chest. “I’m sorry Lucy. I should have protected you, I should have-”

“I don’t blame you Natsu. Never have, never will. You didn’t do this to me and it's not the end of the world. After all, I’ve always been an adaptable person.” She smiles into his chest. Lucy pulls away to look up at him. “Your horns are gone.”

He notices her fingers are back to normal too. “I think you just calm me.”

Lucy places her palm against his cheek. “You could never scare me, Natsu. No matter what this new look part of you is, I love it just the same as before. Nothing could change that. I won’t look at you differently.”

Her confession made his heart warm and he felt more relaxed than he had in days. “I don’t deserve you. How did I get so lucky?”

She kisses his cheek. “I think you have good taste is all. Now I don’t know about you, but I am craving anything but that hospital food.”

“Then we better get you something good.” He says and holds out his hand.

They intertwine their fingers hoping to find a restaurant still open during the night. As a child the thought of this moment terrified him. A new form of power that he couldn't automatically control was not something he desired. However, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world to have Lucy by his side to not only be there for him, but to love him all the same.

Perhaps a missing arm and some horns was all it took to make them realize that the most important thing to each of them is each other. No matter the battles they faced, everything would be worth it as long as they were together through it all.

--

I hope you enjoyed :) 

[the-phoenix-heart]

10 Amazing Futurama Comics

There is a severe lack of Futurama content on this and other sites (seriously, the Night at the Museum movies have more fics than Futurama). And, nobody posts about the Futurama comics. So I’m posting 10 of my favorites.

10. Attack of the 50-Foot Amy (Issue #33)

It’s actually not as sexual as the cover makes it out to be. The basic premise is that Amy mistakes the can of growth spray (that Cubert and Dwight want to use for their science fair project) for hair spray and sprays waaaay too much before her anniversary date with Kif. Meanwhile, Bender teaches Fry the wonders of video piracy, but after he gets scared by a movie home alone style he eats his disc of pirated movies and starts uncontrollably acting them out. You can probably guess how these two plots connect.

While I do list this one as one of my favorites, it’s far from perfect. The artwork is good, but the scaling on Amy is very wonky so she looks more like a twenty-foot Amy (also Dwight’s eyes are drawn weird in this comic, he looks blazed out the entire time). But I cannot help but be charmed by this comic. It’s got some sweet Bender and Fry friendship moments and actually makes me believe Kif and Amy’s relationship for a little bit. They are very sweet in this comic, although Kif does go through some pain in this comic.

Best moments: They way they resolve the plot is actually pretty funny and clever, plus Bender hopped up on pirated movies is a joy. At one point Fry gets shoved by Steven Spielbot (don’t ask) and Bender goes all Rocky on his ass saying “No one talks to my gal, Adrian, like that!” It’s very sweet and...subtextual if you understand my meaning. This one also has anti comic book piracy message at the end which was ironic for me to read.

9. Doctor What (Issue #32)

The Professor creates a time traveling port-a-potty so that you can pee in whatever time and space you want, although it’s completely random. However, Zoidberg accidentally breaks the potty, so him, Leela, Fry, and Bender have to keep randomly flushing to get back home. On each of these new worlds Zoidberg keeps accidentally saving the citizens, getting medals, and ends up becoming addicted to the fame he keeps winning. Which leads to them getting stuck in a post apocalyptic New New York.

This is the infamous Leela-Bender-Fry fusion comic, Leelan von Fry-Bot. His backstory is actually a little sad, but I won’t spoil it here. This one is pretty good, because it has Zoidberg as the hero. Actually quite a few of these feature Zoidberg as a fourth member of the delivery crew which is weird, but not entirely unwelcome. It’s also fun to see these other worlds, and now that I think about it it’s actually a little similar to The Late Phillip J. Fry, what with the time travel to different interesting worlds.

Best Moments: I actually liked Leelan’s backstory, and his interactions with his “parents” (you’ll understand when you read it) are actually pretty funny and a little cute. Fry really wants to be a dad you can tell.

8. The Simpsons Futurama Crossover Crisis II

The professor creates a device that takes characters out of their stories into the real world. Trouble is, he tells the mayor that this invention is useful because you can get slave labor out of the characters because they technically have no constitutional rights. The Simpsons end up working with the Planet Express crew, but an accident leads to the release of ALL FICTIONAL CHARACTERS EVER.

This is a sequel comic to the Futurama Simpsons Infinitely Secret Crossover Crisis (fun fact: a reference to several famous comic book arcs). I chose this one above it though because I think it understood the assignment better. The original is funny, but I just don’t think that Springfield is a good setting for a Futurama crossover. Springfield for all its zaniness, is not the future. New New York, however, is great for this crossover. We get several scenes where we see the Simpsons going through space and fighting off monsters. We even get to see the other residents of Springfield in the future, Mr. Smithers becomes a space pirate and Mr. Burns falls in love with Mom, it’s great.

Best Moments: Some of them I already mentioned, but I cannot stress enough how hilarious the Burns-Mom romance is, it’s especially good when you can hear their voices in your head. I also like the friendship the Simpsons have with the Planet Express crew.

7. Six Characters in Search of a Story (Issue #14)

This is a very interesting comic. The Professor falls asleep, so to pass the time the crew decides to look through his old failed inventions, and well, that’s a very bad idea. The most interesting thing about this comic is it’s designed so that if you want you can only read certain panels to follow one person’s story. The Futurama comics do this a lot of the time and it’s always interesting.

The shenanigans that occur in this one are really funny, and there are some great looking pages in this. Also the Futurama crew clearly took ideas from the comics, and this is one of them. You can tell from the cover art that this does have elements of “Benderama” in it, what with Bender cloning himself ad infinitum. I also really like the climax, it’s a little schmultz-y for Futurama, but I don’t mind.

Best Moments: Fry gets stuck with a Spanish speaking Bender and I don’t know why but it’s really funny to me. The professor also gets some funny moments in this one. And Scruffy. Scruffy is always a delight.

6. Igner-ance is Bliss! (Issue #63)

Yeah this is the infamous robot Leela and Fry comic. Don’t worry, like the cover says, it’s not as dramatic as it looks. The crew has to go to a world that’s too dangerous for humans, so Fry, Leela, and Zoidberg all have their consciousnesses put into robot doubles so they can make the delivery. However, it turns out this planet is a sort of getaway spa for robots, and the crew decides to party it up there, at least until Bender discovers that this is a front for an evil plot by Mom. The subplot is mostly about how Igner is not respected by his brothers.

This one is fun, and I love a comic where Bender has to be the voice of reason. It is clearly killing him to be the responsible one, but I love it. Also, I have a soft spot for Igner, so it’s nice to see him get thrown a bone for once. This also has some really fun jokes with everyone, but Zoidberg in particular gets some bangers. I think my only problem is it ISN’T as cool as the cover makes it out, but like I’m happy with what it is.

Best Moments: Fry beats up Bender at one point and wins, I think he deserved it. Also, y’all know Admiral Ackbar from Star Wars? He makes some cameos in this one. Also all the robots (sans Bender) make a Japanese style mecha and it’s the coolest thing ever. Plus everything I’ve said about Igner I love in this one. Oh also Fry beats Calculon at poker and I really love that.

5. Who’s Dying to be a Gazillionaire? (Issue #5)

This one is sweet. The IRS is threatening to bankrupt Planet Express, and if they can’t think of a way to make a million dollars they will go out of business. No one really has any ideas and doesn’t even really care, except for Fry who is determined to save Planet Express. He gets the idea to go onto Who Wants to be a Gazillionaire to make the money, even though it’s a trivia show and if he loses he will die.

This one really warms my heart, it’s Fry at his best, just doing what he can for the people he loves. Even the professor is great in this one. I don’t want to spoil it, but trust me when I say it’s good (god I hope I’m not building this up too much).

Best moments: The end panel. But also the resolution of the story is great, and I really appreciate this comic for Fry as a character.

4. Rumble in the Jungle (Issue #38)

This is a fine comic. Leela is mad that she’s not being respected by Fry and Bender, and it’s bad enough that they don’t believe her when she says they’re going to crash into a planet. They end up parachuting down and getting separated. Leela ends up as queen of some workers in the “Amazon,” meanwhile Fry finds Bender’s corpse and goes off to avenge him.

This one is fun, and another fun one for Fry, because he’s determined to avenge Bender and works hard for it. This also includes the original Frender, not the ship but fusion. Leela and Fry even have a fight scene against each other and it’s honestly great.

Best Moments: Fry is great throughout the entire comic, and Leela spends most of her time beating up random animals. Bender also using a lead parachute he made out of toys he stole from children is funny, especially because I’m always a sucker for Bender doing dumb shit.

3. Don’t Go Taking My Heart! (Issue #69) (nice)

Mom only has a couple weeks to live, unless she can get a heart transplant. It’s revealed that Mom uses the cryogenics lab to get new body parts for herself, and that Fry was supposed to be her heart donor! Unfortunately, because he was unfrozen she now has to get him to work for Mom Corp to make sure his heart stays intact for the procedure.

If you can’t tell I love the Fry-centric comics, and I also like the comics where Mom is the villain. Of course this comic doesn’t go completely how you expect it to go, it’s actually REALLY sweet. I also love the fact that in this comic Fry actually makes a great intern. He basically has the job of a secretary and he’s GOOD at it. And I love seeing when Fry is good at things. The reason why I put this at only 3 is because it doesn’t really have a subplot. Bender gets a job at mom corp to but it’s only there for a couple pages, and Leela’s new crew gets two panels and that’s it.

Best Moments: The moments with Mom and Fry, but also guess who Mom’s doctor is? I’m actually not going to reveal it because it’s so random but also hilarious.

2. Boomsday! (Issue #58)

The Professor builds Bender his own parents, as a way to placate/discipline Bender. However, these parents decide that Fry is a bad influence on Bender, leading to them kicking him out. Meanwhile, the Professor’s doomsday devices are all stolen, and he has to go find them.

Both of these plots are funny and good. Bender’s plot is also really sweet what with his friendship with Fry, and his wish for parents. Meanwhile the Professor’s plot is just really funny and I do love seeing the Professor in his element. The ending is mostly heartwarming.

Best Moments: Everything with Fry and Bender, and Bender has a sweet relationship with his fake parents. Also, the Professor uses Issac Asimov candles on the robot mafia which I found a great joke. Oh, and the Professor’s first doomsday device was made when he was four years old and I love that. The end of the comic also has very nice message.

1. Rotten to the Core (Issue #27)

The world’s weather has gone kerflooey, and the Professor has figured out that his invention that can drill into the center of the Earth has been used. It conspires that Bender sold it at a yard sale to some aliens call the magmoids. The magmoids are trying to steal magma from the Earth’s core and the crew has to go and stop them.

This is my favorite because it’s a great character comic. All of the main three have great moments, and it’s also a great science comic. The Earth’s core is incredibly magnetic so of course Bender starts spouting out folk songs, and also SECRETS. I can’t believe no one has used the fact that canonically magnets make Bender incapable of telling lies. Anyway, it’s just really fun.

Best Moments: Way too many to count. Bender and Fry are told to cut out the “Brokeback Moanin,’“ Leela and Fry are bitter at the end, Fry tells story about his childhood, Bender has some great secrets to tell, the Professor gets a really fun ending, Bender has a rare moment of generosity, and the entirety of the climax is all kinds of fun and sweet.

[boldlyvoid]

ain't it fun? | part 3

summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

warnings: season 4 episode 7 plot but spencer doesn't have to go through it all alone. mentions of child molestation and murder

word count: 2K

P1 P2

Spencer calls from Vegas of all places, he’s staying an extra few days after a case and he won’t be home. “Actually, if I buy you a ticket would you fly out here for me?”

“Are you crazy?” She laughs, “what’s really going on babe?”

She doesn’t call him babe very often but when she does she can always hear him blush, he’s so giddy and cute he smiles wide and licks his lips a few times, but he doesn't this time.

“I’m not doing the best.”

“Do you need your girlfriend or do you need a meeting?” She asks because she knows there is a huge difference.

“I need my best friend.”

When she arrives in Vegas, she takes a taxi to his hotel and sits in his room all alone until he’s done whatever he was up to. There’s an envelope on the floor, “you’ve got the wrong guy” written on the front in a hasty black chicken scratch.

She hides along the wall, making sure no one can see her under the crack of the door. She manages to keep one foot on either side of the door frame as she looks out the peephole to see an older white man walking away from the door. He’s in a work uniform, on the phone, he’s whispering.

Once she’s sure he’s off the floor, she grabs her things and leaves the room. Leaving the envelope on the floor, she calls Spencer from the stairwell.

“Hey, I’m on my way back now,” Spencer answers.

“Someone dropped an envelope off in your room. I didn’t touch anything I just walked out after the guy left… can I meet you in the bar instead?”

“Yeah! Of course,” he encourages her safety protocols, “I’ll make sure the envelope is safe first, thank you for being smart.”

“No problem," she laughs, he was the genius and he was still calling her smart for following her gut.

"I’m just walking down the stairs cause he took the elevator. He was white, 5’8 ish and older; balding with grey hair so I’m guessing he was in his 60s, and he was on the phone with someone,” she gives his description quickly before she could forget it. “And the envelope says you got the wrong guy on the outside.”

“I know who that is, thank you. I love you,” each phrase got quieter and quieter and she knew he was in the car with his co-workers.

“I love you too, see you soon.”

—

It’s midnight in Virginia, it’s only 9pm in Vegas and Spencer’s been losing his mind trying to solve a case for his own sanity. He was getting nowhere, he’s even tried hypnosis to take him back to when he was 4. But nothing was working.

He’s in the middle of begging his mother to remember, “mom, this isn’t about me. This is about Riley Jenkins.”

“It was always about you…” Diana whispers.

“Please, mom—“

“Spencer,” Y/N’s eyes shoot open.

She’s just been sitting there, barely getting to know Diana as Spencer explained what he remembers. It was very intimate, but she already knew about the dream. She knew one day he’d want to learn more, and now he was.

“Listen to what she just said, it was always about you,” she repeats the words and Spencer looks more confused.

She steps forward and takes Diana’s hands in hers, sitting her down on the edge of her bed as she looks at her carefully. “This is hard, I know you’re really trying and I know how hard it is to talk to Spencer when he’s like this. But how about you tell me the story? Why was the Riley Jenkins case more about Spencer to you?”

Diana clues in then, her eyes zoning out as she remembers everything and Spencer sits quietly in the corner. “Riley was a real boy, poor boy…”

He’s amazed by the fact she’s so calm and good with his mother. “Yes he was, mom, how did I know him?”

“Your father was the t-ball coach, you were really more interested in chess and so eventually he let you go from the team, and you ended up playing in the park with this older man; who was also watching Riley before he died,” Diana explained softly. “It could have been you.”

Spencer gets closer and closer, eventually, he’s kneeling in front of his mother like a little boy at storytime. “What was his name mom?

“Gary Michaels.”

—

David and Derek are really nice guys. She’s sitting with them in the bar while Spencer has a heart-to-heart with his parents at the police station. It’s been a long day, he’s learned a lot and she couldn’t wait to unpack it all with him.

“How come you don’t come out with him more often?” Derek asks, unsure of how to broach the subject, but he wants to know.

“What do you know about me, first of all? Because it’ll tell me everything I need to fill you in on,” she asks in a question in response to his.

“I know you met at a support group, I know he loves you, and I know you live with him now.”

She smiles, “I have a rare disability that many people don't believe in, I work from home and I make little art pieces for the different seasons to make money, I don’t really like going outside. much”

“But you flew all the way to Vegas for him?” Derek smiles knowingly.

She nods gently, “he’s still my best friend in the whole world, Derek.”

“Thank you,” is all he says, “you’ve helped him be the same Spencer I met when he started. You’ve brought the joy back to his life, it’s nice to get to know you more.”

He asks to get her a drink then, to make up for everything she’s been through that day. All she wants is ginger ale and Derek gives her a strange look, he really has no idea that she’s a recovering drug addict. Spencer has kept all her secrets nice and safe in his big and beautiful mind.

“I’m allergic to most alcohol,” she isn't lying but it works. “Especially dark tequila and all vodkas, it’s because they’re made from potatoes and I have a potato starch intolerance... you know actually sometimes even hand sanitizers that are made in alcohol facilities give me an allergic reaction as well.”

“Okay, that right there,” he teases, “that’s why he keeps you all to himself.”

She laughs, “that was a bit of a Reid ramble, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Derek’s smile is so soft. “It really was.”

When she finally sees him again, it’s been almost a full day since he called her and asked for her to fly into Vegas. He needed her moral support while dealing with his parents, and he knew she was the only person who knew the extent of what he felt for them. He tried his hardest to be the best kid in the world for both of them, and yet sometimes he feels like both a disappointment and an unwanted mistake.

They hug for so long when he finally enters the bar, that Derek gets up from the table and goes to find someone to occupy his time with. It’s Vegas and he’s Derek after all… it wasn’t going to be hard for him to have a woman hanging off of him soon, too.

Back in his hotel room, he passes out from exhaustion and she just stares at him. He’s been through so much that even his eidetic memory didn’t want to think about it anymore. normally he would recount his day to her with a smile, now he just sleeps peacefully for the first time in days.

He was so soft and sweet even after being through the most terrifying things the human mind and body can go through.

—

They take a few days off, his co-worker has a baby and it’s the perfect time for him to take her to meet them all. They won't be focused on her at all, and thus she will have fewer questions to answer.

Penelope Garcia is a blessing on this earth. The second Y/N lays eyes on her, she knows that they are going to be friends. She’s a hugger, and they’re good hugs, and she was already making plans to hang out and keep Y/N company when Spencer and the team were out of town.

JJ looked beautiful for just giving birth, Emily was intimidatingly smart and beautiful and she didn’t know how to really make eye contact with her without developing a crush on Spencer’s co-worker. Derek was kind as always, and Aaron gives a firm handshake.

JJ asks Spencer to be Henry’s godfather and it’s all a little too much for Spencer to handle after everything from the day before. He’s been through so much that Y/N can see the panic roaring through his veins as he tries to keep his cool in front of his friends.

But when they’re back in their own bed; in the safe space, they’ve created for one another. She’s running her hands along his back as he snuggles into her chest. Normally she’d tease him for being this close to her boobs, but they were comfortable and he likes to hear her heartbeat.

“I thought for a while they were going to tell me I was molested,” he whispers. “I was more relieved to know my mom witnessed a murder… and I hate myself for thinking that.”

“I was,” she whispers into his hair. “More than once by different men.”

He sits up to look at her, she shrugs, “my friend's dad tried to teach me how to drive by sitting me in his lap so that I’d have to bounce on him over the rocky back road. And a scout leader drove me home and kept his hand way too close to my parts and then a teacher-“

“How are you okay?” he stares at her like she's got 3 heads or something as he shakes his head lightly in disbelief.

She laughs, “I’m not. But I am at the same time? I can’t really explain it... it sucks and I hate it but I’m safe with you so I’m fine... but I’m not okay?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I’m fine with you but not okay, too.”

They're quiet for a bit, tilting their heads as they stare at each other with soft little smiles. She loves him and he loves her and all she can think about is forever.

“Can I ask you something?” She’s really serious now, looking at him carefully as his eyes light up.

“Anything!”

“Do you think you’ll want kids one day? Even after everything with your dad?” She’s careful, not wanting to hurt him to push him or make him think he’s letting her down if he says no.

“I want kids, even if it’s just one. I want to be a dad and do what my dad couldn’t. I want to love them and help them grow and teach them how to ride a bike and how to do Pythagorean theory,” his words are full of passion, he’s speaking from his gut.

“I want 3 kids,” she smiles. “With you.”

His eyes go wide, “why?”

She smiles because of course, he convinced himself she wouldn't want his kids, he was a worrier.

“My dad was okay, he was pretty distant and cold until I got sick and then he became one of my best friends. Your dad sucked. Together all that love that we craved will go into our little person and they’ll be so happy and wonderful and loved with us."

Spencer nods in agreement, it's soft and sweet and she makes a last-minute decision. "I don’t think I want kids if I can’t have them with you.”

“What’s your 5-year plan look like?” he asks abruptly like he wants to start having kids tomorrow.

“I don’t have one. But I’ve always dreamed of just being a stay-at-home mom and making art on the side. Maybe even babysitting a few other kids during the days… I don’t know. It always felt like a pipe dream before...”

“Before me?” He asks with a smile, proud and believing it. He really knows she loves him and it’s changed him for the better.

She nods, “you wouldn’t mind if I didn’t ever have a real job?”

“I think we’d be okay as a single income family, I make enough to support the apartment bills as well as groceries, then your income can for things you and the kids want. I’m good paying for everything else.”

She smiles, “you just said the kids.”

He’s giddy with excitement as he nods, “I want forever with you.”

“Okay,” she whispers, leaning in to press her lips against his gently like he could break.

He was so special and perfect to her. Even with the scratches and dings in his paint, he was a collector's item, a one-of-a-kind, never-made again, kind of man who she was really happy she found.

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