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libidomechanica · 6 months

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Untitled Composition # 11474

A sonnet sequence

First Stanza

And there Science already view: and wearing kisse I have not be sword, allurement, for me lend yon kiss the lastic voicest former less thirst; a loath the strength to embalming guile, take me now. Is not keep is not when I doe import that doth all the house, much of hand, and bought on be her a sieve. Thus ours, Cassandra too—Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, and slow to Time I torture or seek! Witness a coursewth, the proud may see? Feared from men comes the was good satiate thou!

Second Stanza

Mother gave it; and in gentleman’s is pasted-on leaven’d, let broke the blood buzzes like the each other’s image of Proserpine. The world a lilly him in a kennel. Dear and airy flings works of the taught appeare, my loved: so silver to have heauenly rack your inces perceived on a tyme&make the blest. Where in thy bright or least am I; whate’er reason is they pleasure and how should records of younges at did not eternal feared the land: but now bedbugs?

Third Stanza

It is perpending durst brightening without a magnolias, me outgrown on too, the Whigs? Of poyson’d and throng, and babe was still do seeke each wit here, leaven knows, heap earth weaknesse the sky, and I, a beasts but as the sure, dart would rising thus I don’t let her streams doth day have led hart. Souls amain, till another dwelling steel the hugged they tale morning: forth, who did maid to liggen in my hart did rest, and remember’d hour! But Cymon soon her night without dead love, do not.

Fourth Stanza

’ And apart, the captiuing birds from thee my charnel; fearfuller? Upon the grace are gone, thus in drains of the which they will boy Venus blushing or drops throat unchaste and the Duches gilded in Heav’nly fret like hand that these leave: but no one words cannot I, forsake wad moulders the veneral pitious a poet tuck away by dew, who had sworn by then climb; for wanton boil’d angels of a deep discussion; or, like shepherd stocks are of arrivest and pure life end.

Fifth Stanza

Let not guest, and time, could youth; wisdom many a dreme. But as a pocket pisto The Pantheme: I have large of courself had come to friends of Retributionary had so is small comes for what’s my spirit vexes, my Heart? La Belle Damme’ s quickly figur’d, vanish to its of neede in this upland when he lights I do burdens, too, past might at all forehead waiting the fayre wherever hair. Happy, come, which her vnaware? And how I wails at repair, with the tinction.

Sixth Stanza

And scream I in a shaded visits, for joyous duke! Go tell heuenly hew, The quiet field: you death heat man, so is me! A fitting the change of rather dim red mantle child seeing meteors; then of states, and fly, playing blown back to uncommon—my mouth to fetches: and the buff, all poet, ’ loue doth peach? My mouth and whose palace as others but the best. Stifling acrosser pantom comely still warrior maiden more his boldly lie: not only the duly.

Seventh Stanza

Therefore trust in thou carelesse stormy mammy yet. No more when the sad neuer too entertain concluding strikes as a mourn her emptied of spight, and here speech,—nor even town abyss shoulde once and dull pitied to the had brookside thy crew: the bed, his we tway by loue contemn; and take my sought was wrap about; the eyes, made soon red by dight would not still to both my women, soon the scorne wilds Ierne with such salt, they all conceit of siluer sigh’d, and fled from him; to joined.

Eighth Stanza

Well war ensues, tho’ jokin’ to my life, and the see, all fley’d Medea as homages the leather louely sighed to scorn another’d with and a worth it was much empred skies. Spend one know how she’llfind too, up they will excelling voice she cause she dooryards sang, and lying sail thy adventury thing the day to the could lull its can aspirant make fled, sometimes, she priest his fine knack. For thou shall businesse dazed, whose free baser the Dame seen Napoleon thy hands.

Ninth Stanza

And experience he for this, and hostess, as if thou go wi’ the streamed, but shall I may behavior; beauty,—that a native pace to the places. While then the wood; but swell, the from her rebellious moon, dost not given up your light, I there it was shall as angry where was wonder true—as, if those me to marvelling will shroud, that more primrose are gilly brake, the Third? The sober nipp’d and dismiss he place or relenteous hold the day with those pretty grows when thee.

Tenth Stanza

And whose dismay, such are Nugae, quarum palm assurance a kings, and bene hidden at the river- child, cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, the little mood, now on the floddess woe, condemn’d to springs that my mammny’s ae bairn, pars passion House to make their ruthless plough we in the door hasty with veil’d angel of my parts with his sitting o’t. But make a tempest of the people quiz it to join’d the soul’s the golden fly their teeth, God will care, and so that joy of earthly that: and abandon no more delayed are exercised the strange disdain. Come in the kind: they forces late avengeance he plot while steps, on they pleas are made Solomon at the went, English boys rewind blaws or in her of mist appears.

Eleventh Stanza

Who art enforces leaf, or is honor any to be, but she is the hill and planned eyes shady planet point with decent sparrow pair is come where the song betraying might from a certain woman, hail! To looks: whose to say shrinks of his Rhodian short exile mens folk I wept his hardly him lodging the fruitfully on clipsing the fears ask’d thro’ the ladies about in comfortlessed, ordain’d Paradise, ’ whose disdeigner of the luring seal’d offer when his breath.

Twelfth Stanza

Of some pleasure posterity, by desire, and in maling my loue not at and the little to descried: but snatch, howling, too, nor disconteck soone after difficulty shepeheard cries, the swords world be that no merchandise, but mix’d with spred his crocke a Werther was so well me were the paine: to burstinguish to fretted genitals, orphans of her particle, should proved, nor to each binds are commotion of the light his wrongs fulfild, that happy letters front.

Thirteenth Stanza

Those fayre, an’ mother an old sorrow, and the leafless hands, that all after discover my poor, not sharp did many a tiny ripened her, who eat his remaine. With much, shiver’d in the conuay, that deserves: who saw and he rest.—When the first the ready view: what would dream, I ate his husband’s on live when to the flame, nor tutor office as it playnts vpbrough highest shall clouds of his height he, as first for merth, and complain of all it gone, and now honeymoon. And ways. Live!

Fourteenth Stanza

For which graced, and fearless and so that are na coming tears, but this worst time thy parts, it move, to be desire. Which follow fill yet, down in prepare along the brimming hys dayes I know the year, wake no one for the Earth and tells that oft air, their lips to united general million slowers I am unbathed is a lillyes, lesse to viewed that should be lyke vnto go and retire: let me serious billiant ocean indifference the hay-fields to its with fixed!

Fifteenth Stanza

When why are weake not thou, silken forged here, bubble breathers with ayre: but water’s chose could and out of all money or young me by my kindness, the leather me front. Hard laugh, honye, my dreary cry, oh misgouernaunce, and the land: yet euer yet fields the margin of Love’s complaine, thereof, when silent a baby’s faults with spy, then he strong tree, I hunterbuffed she first impressionate cry and with the search, and spent, blue Italian sprang, her cruelty, or if those or six month with sike we will better, may be found in spikes, lyke bent, a squirrel’s grace, and mix our fancy too because harder still then force! Full smart would it by your flowre, where but she from a slight. The time, until Death which tempests to stirred at her eye?

Sixteenth Stanza

From Phebus was in sleeps to end pearly robs frisk my earth afreshed it the Titan’s shadow of a rude must to enter, since from his born? Nor hast now so soon, the piano, in thy AEgis o’er ages, ere their joyous diamond: for in the heauen vpon the Unapparent, heart is moved, he it sight, neglected, she knew not so much; I light beat off the city; attract of them slay, was so earth doth no attend a woman threat’ning tears, another, she way youngling.

Seventeenth Stanza

Resolves: I’ll given before to cannot ease a cheare. As well, and pain, till this worlds glory to its named mountains, and through flesh is loue lend the lovely: he doth oozing his growing therein all cave off the anticipated in smiles bestow’d on their struction me, do you and white veil. And handson and makers better, shall I sat, but been worth for spite,&with vertues Court, and night!—If once vouchsafe to points; it is wit can’t be praise my Lady Flora, on while the first bee.

Eighteenth Stanza

At kiss matter, her beauty in mutual blis. But if it out improved by formed, and lonely looks, what I’ver any flaws are you get here’s mien, at large thee to meet to meets, so later ye entrap in amaze, the things morning oars emptied woman’s fervour of she wise by Phoebus’ light claim my embalming too is my spirit vex, with which sublimity, that she dore terror bade him loitering; stone; lost abused. And noble,— conjugal, but as too sorrowe.

Nineteenth Stanza

Though thou, what can the damn! And husband’s fram’d from paralysis, t’ entertain, I sweat, in decent. And, less, choke than ever junior by glance was won’t know not, the Titan’s feet, the silence, she magic life of the sad from a golden he wake. Here is no villages doe not in the government all breath; which her wreck both of purple dyes; carve it a difficult to shuns to spare mirrors up while savage to practised so grew may resolved think such, she doors crisis?

Twentieth Stanza

Tobacco, nectar officient ether wombe thought, all of fools their carpe his sauce for yet blush’d breast too change thy sins a woman is now how I was Lady Carolinesse play, ye view that she different speechless gamed, but never crimes will fancient Hag of you too, O Thyrsis of her austering the ants, whose greatly bar; bewitching heard you know, were: and being sayd to her carpe, cannot say his was raysed. With fountain of eight; and there. Such lay: And heart and for thorn?

Twenty-first Stanza

Of lusty guyde, evening more ease. Tonight, and rolls a fair fallen to asswage mind, be you can restore the full, and by dayes in her guess. And thee, and raised yet aspyre. To make you would my dare na looke with looking done to fyre: and beast describbling she. Were but they lock’d with plain; the Hand others make, ye behold, and stol’n, I found his fill? This morrow. The little hart, fears a scarce of sad to pierce of an aslake, or white, alas, nor grapevine spring space alley of euer yet still went speed. So pursue; afar that ask. Fair young days uppermost, and vnworthy though she and will night lift vp the doth adamant challen their hand because by some sail for to an hour sharpe his may pouncell do; but what beaten hooves.

Twenty-second Stanza

Out of peers, to which heuens, pastry, at the sexiest meal of fraude: ne fork the sages did bold on my nude and falls he meant, to hackney could not hear, a softest here in his poor bent, in the might he dart, thy aid, but singing? Tis sauing sails at villain to that good silver tempred hate indecisions of these with his mind;—of death-wound met her this hinder. Some Colossus vayne to strange and whose bands of warlike, love, tremble a limit palls—at length you are there is at then the sea by seats; but will many who lose, least straw, bore them smyles were he brooke, three feeds he embrace, too you; when hope; but been he sands the vaults with Juan’s bitter wonne quoth stead of concerns, misforth wines spred some pression of translated.

Twenty-third Stanza

But a scene, obliged brere, with her balefull vow, deceived were the rest ye may breath wrapp’d him up; I’ll be speak her much to give. Things of green Erin, ’ which many for want to the great spear the strife down life, full Oake, here language stay. Paine, begin him, like to go alone salue bough by all them with your rival now should enterior man-beast, but like a door the shudders writers the suffer means dead again disappeals in vogue! Humid them, near; to this, ’ he spray as each other.

Twenty-fourth Stanza

A sleep that he flood doe dark and still, in my mild, if unto hit. I would every shock, tis send: that was preparate avenges arms already two brothers afloat will, to pull ten that our book thought. Which is a bitter compare been the first, and will at once themselves: if not so hardy day; since brought come resort. This invoke the houses unfold he roof, and the deeds do that flowing from her dew that dinner admit, rejected, but when I were finds are na forest’?

Twenty-fifth Stanza

Which melodious sightly where euery of rich, like early people regions ever led booke Stellas bore. Is it will, hoping connects names of Rhodian short houses gay, and in army deare. Ere I will be follow tired the bas- ket for power reed, when that love. The public should like therefore terme strength in my lad, o whispersede love is lere, to gain book the list of the sweet stirred his packe. The waltz, clicking is me! In truth sentimentable goes; that she of Tom.

Twenty-sixth Stanza

Proud now in the trudged brooke. The wear still unravisher sum of the faces was she’llfind it be told? ’ Well, and I accord, and ne’er believe like world, with him loitering all liueryes. And trees annoy to remorse behold, went, I loved tracassert, What mouth,—the very to stick. The mighty Jove, or in a crystal floor—and so it plays. So let been friends: one’s mystic diapasons that nethelesse bow to me? As when to well! Ship off like some sayes do confined her and other.

Twenty-seventh Stanza

Rekindle fyre of our joy but randon’d quick renoumed nor damages the thorn an alabaster it sith another, like fleshes which ye haue such the sight. And tease to proved his love, we now exults with look its web of such would guttering dances let bass, the knew there we first signs, that bloody chess and thrugh you yet the swallow them how this sovereigner of being with diuers beauty for euery rashly all the whole overthrew out of such administer.

Twenty-eighth Stanza

The Pavilion, as she goodly veil’d as the had an unprofit will must begin to blames always we place by no aristocratic spreading mind is emprized they foul at our faithful was no words, amid a Heaven’s pleased from thus? Shape compare: thrushed his conquer, why did aryse, and that wont with tear people fair as an unto pleasure lies his truly faithful boast her, floats that is louely eyes haue enroll. That her. They say, but her wilfull come. Suspicion.

Twenty-ninth Stanza

They could finger aspect: the lose, you flapped our flesh is what had adorn’d and murderer of released; and play, or lessons whistle, and so I alone on the others; but sometime to say, the world chose light well awake: but now whate’er thee, or strived with stones high thou not pause? That nest. Mine was our people dyes, strange termes away. By all and it is no great must our tempest trembling ringlets, all that worthy heart into the old life renew the screen and me to take.

Thirtieth Stanza

And if I might me, where we free. And witch, haunts, white, lately I pitie. Love denies in the gas, put him into some Dream beloved each trifle undering stream not! But ah falsehood, in the chaste? Such look down from winterwove? Like Archimedes, in black. I hae me, yet for ever delight rather on the night, an old so is me! Came to ventures they survey of dialogue, but proved. Who spite of a mystical of that loue, I mote perhaps she is my life.

Thirty-first Stanza

An autumn were fashion measured, and the golden quantithesis to follow still the rest. And from him strength out of that which was not to blooded indent out to furnish moistening, and sailors passions were. Is over Attic: yet widen shepheards and governor and leaning freely out for ever famous ille priest, is pride he best he fierce, which after head, the river or what needs not at hazard, with though these tunes for thou doth revengeance and ennui.

Thirty-second Stanza

By sigh’d and all the summer’s bridal wife’s hill suits full, Mr. Than our name; yet I care, let ray the may but could be lose that may be enjoying. So—But Fate, but snatch that very sweetest Sommer ships unright they passion, and unders bowre. Then not seem such cause the shall be pity of my bed, some good sensitive, then splendours is troop retired, and cruell, a month fools of alabaster out of her phthisical virginity I will saue to mourn had related.

Thirty-third Stanza

Of twenty, Tam! I stop my truly Piers, and human for my poore. A child; her still to end. The tree. Doubted won. But the secret brown He is pure is death. Of no green, to saue a iot, all night many sweat, I call dignity: Cold Pasimond his maidens overtible Corruption fates see the most will doue. Thou’s bed all to the sunset complish’d on the dust was, or our like a gentle wind there, the shall after the found rulers, the plaints, the night leaving must be so!

Thirty-fourth Stanza

And her race of light, all drawn break. What Adam, calm assurance with rage: and wayled, which with a happy they complish’d.—The strapped our field, which is that Angel mild, and and the topics I myself she candless lie away to reasoning with a drap o’ dew, for the improved hour their musical: sweet, but the greatest brew around the reason, and took his new begin, should adorn beauteous heap. He was something breast. That trains of his harp I take his gather least exile mean?

Thirty-fifth Stanza

Most modest ridge, was Love’s blue; her to blames end. Whilst the at all those was the of some good, and loving sun are nothings. Her eyes soone clear: and make hard life by him aright: who serving winter, thou walking, cold his some my heart heard and even those the inward force skin. Walking maisters in a cigarette. The wiped her guide, in who ventures balanches, kissed with some slime, would thorn? Though them as thoe: no, no, let her delication, is could by young diuers while things and with and wits.

Thirty-sixth Stanza

One of my tunes his certainly my thou calm assured down they, throne. So tell how many of saying me at and rain, as I know, dies warrion knowing! Not to holy, though public view, fair, examined and hath the bar or a turmoil grow; a herded bowre not so string all to Candy wit, if it out the dead considerable fresh leaves beneath tinkling all-clad waite, that run. Had hell, inviting aught name o’t, but moderately I pitied to forth arms of old!

Thirty-seventh Stanza

-Thousand pray, his duty, and thrugh ye meekness is chace, he waur, upon those beauty blew or what which turn out some good and the complayned: who sterne sevent, and florish hanged the full-grownd in her found beaten has within. To thy love, the to tell my chest faults with doe me to ye, my colour’d thy teeming for Adonais: wan the will enemies. The languish till on his mankind, by various and darkness of this path the west—I miss’d heavy tufts of the ecstasy.

Thirty-eighth Stanza

The high a? Ranger is sitting number of lucubration—I had first is that redresses the sun; the greedy sense: in my arms and keel now!—Was like with ayre: but allows too, nor durst buy, till the sullen stood in seed. Still, so subject quote what’s this trade winds take some to me. Dear lordly for loose into his grown hair is the gloam if that you to helpless face. What nestines that all expyre, and by the burden of the spoyle. Impatient feeles need na spirit!

Thirty-ninth Stanza

The means but a pure in love, how him what’s ills—a birds to King of that influence desire; cross they such a country consequential, That you every flounded, but in waile must abandon’d deep it saue without death upon Time rest, and, grace, her sonne hath his permany, and in any flaws be sweet and pleasant, when shall be; and Falier pen, yet, Thyrsis! Ne stakes young, beholder pure in my bath, and blowing, linger blisse, but you know she had complete, and then hooves.

Fortieth Stanza

The westerity both taken up for a heart. Aye vow and by thee with plann’d Tell many a dead, the sun come times of the flanks;—but to heroes all his patter of both fresh so thrilliance’ is and pantom come moment them how long those more. Rubbing sweetheart to the falsehood the lake, alas, no time would liuely corruption, passion-winges, other more his body’s loue what a tapers, and lyke indure things as to talked on thou came truth, celebrated of Proserpine!

Forty-first Stanza

There wel vnder part of moss, and courage of moss, your next Canto; when they foul hypocrisy form lean, watch-tower; the deeds must just pressing pride ones shape! So reading a billiant, would. And fade. The sought, and emptied on birth. Watch that ages, his better: lest he for only in ear forhead is sitting laughing forth doth contend the too ferocious sphered sound so close of Albion want town, I sighs. Horrid warnes his her the tribe who greet: to reventeen, red, for to speak.

Forty-second Stanza

But shadow lover to spring know you’re to declined the through t is immortally: and horse, and was not fade, walking too much as well, in the silent be; and ere I did there’s light, yet love weight; not to sustayne, paying and scene of love: restray but reason, grace, whom my heart that here the will sup from eats with the mought and sad or dim, as laid, comes quit medicines all the most recite. There is their excess through I abide. Arms already souled, the cried with blood.

Forty-third Stanza

Those to beard for me, or company body to turn of natural nurse of an anything blow of, that heards from under; not history conquer’d the land: descending for the accursed hyde, no very bare! The last are might flow overcame the eternal, why is to kiss, the murm’ring, are ye may make and was your doth perplex the dark mantle can it he foes did loved it, seeke his enought unused you I blest he kill vines spark. Love’s hate againe: and woman’s blesse raysed.

Forty-fourth Stanza

I’m kent theaters of vanish’d up they talking that man, and faith in blisse, seeing of men of time but prodigy, Misses grow bright: and sew forgive feed what he cloudy loof, i’d fear topp’d about Cymon sea-ward face and there I t’abide, I long it would end have like cording, the lands found me season, the goes, the disdain the little made once are builde an infamy is eating its nest and first appere. In his Eyes, while he stops his worthless to my Electra!

Forty-fifth Stanza

There and revision lackest spoyle. Thrust is hear and Self-contentions of low and sweet or two year. There Cupid fourty wit so much the seem’d trembling to my Muses and in flash with heauens so goodly gift of souenance of her breathd from herb and with silverware in bear not—but, having it the sail that kith once they fawne within you of time I die, then rush’d, she care the honor reign parting spoke you can face, selected, in the worldes choking lacking is a strangling.

Forty-sixth Stanza

Who quench’d three; regret kiss—like dew. So as first let its kindling good come. Where my body cheek for its cannot girland bride. In the tingless to forbeare London a dull. Ignorance has out of her cruell back again; I was the mine’s be draw those impress upon thy hands his rounds; take is full-waked; and glass! Afflicted be. But why there, beauteous duties of chance are common fillèd withal, make us past, while by lips in the summer light be name in the baby love’s light.

Forty-seventh Stanza

Watch out o’ mony a wreath Clasp it respecial people wi’ as gude world above along silent sphere; as nicely ray at sighs, had left its cannot, bury your both glory this with woe was no villain famous wrong, in my lad, had stormental soul of black. I have heauenly shall I more tender; not griefe that Juan, here’s a man ancies small Jack and she cast, saddest reproved you over utterers of mourner, to batter; would be trust faire Mothering of sheep.

Forty-eighth Stanza

But such Jugler could turn’d woe? ’ Me from a sleep. Sweet birds to both and round. Thou, saddest agree, I sigh or they march of a larks. Of thy credential, a fool, Love, who rulers, you gull tree, another wont to doth renew’th. At pleased by the sunshines, you a tale, crowner’s Hill; and, above, by provide; there’s a cures balance shepheard was those trees, come, beautie, Midsummer day do nothing that I was fled, the men. Some such in happy woman, thermometer, I am thee?

Forty-ninth Stanza

’ Purple pure and for all the trouble bent me put by lips must we look a tingling and religions from his for euen some so fayre, touch did prayses of hath my heart is much infected assembly of earth and maken will sleep with, my break. Long caught Grief its skies, which though tempest, but to bury thing of men ever-wearing. You; when eyther heads adore sweet be itself has will asleep, When their faultless blows; ’ and Love’s which me sea in my hart, be as ill at last here stay.

Fiftieth Stanza

A fugitive, get up, to whome enjoy’d, the great music before came, the dusk through high had annex, and like mind. And former line arms a window-panes, bones into a personal acts enlarge thee again; you love in the drew to see it a tumult sharpe die in the wild, beauteously bear aye birde feeling endearing. To-morrow away did ly, and, its eares, yet cross the which ten-though the left the load is my fraile fall, whence then this I could departed by them.

Fifty-first Stanza

He webbing in men fonly payne. So long endeavoured food of time for wish for sauce; then, who like death, and landed guess, where cause your own; hang its bed, but stir? To the Maker self a fooles are cemen, even aspire, such as round, I there’s a same sad Urania’s shore, ne of Proserpine! Not to from the descried Ministers first to your owne might on his weight, the violence, or war; and dart. At dint, my own, young, at holds mother woe that he commodities.

Fifty-second Stanza

And, and the music, with whose lips be you. And do so, quoth silent to prune, must was Werther glorious he wand if he had heard sheets first signal-elm, this day I have pittilesse their sister? Through coach, as supporter all. Rude wine, two lively collection whylest will do to singing his face their hand abandon straint, and not knowing, while thrall! And stoures singled as usual ear, was their show to the old ladies and all enjoy, and coffee sports. Such small its break.

Fifty-third Stanza

That July 21st play at cloud I from thee, ah false or hence it look? All were peruart, and look on hopes and when his pack, and his forstall: for no, therefore his the fool with those presence of too fasted cheese and that gold a smile upon the sea, rekindling as your and seen john half be minstead: I care there na looking to make a Strawberry Cuckow, whereto thy amissed love is no time at the scarce of they are famous manly go’st pity called, but play they tride.

Fifty-fourth Stanza

Thrice or the drew to such a wed galloping there’s or Charitee, the fiery prime. A heart is trophies—not even if shee yode a liness, a debtor; and all their daily place or by his will beasts and blessed and all turn on a high loue, when up for they fear: her heauens blushes and Lucan, by mists, which my dear, were can join’d to haue was hawks mayd, and the very tresurrect, for beauties with force skill, and forelock the fat did this stain the world’s terrour and ruff too.

Fifty-fifth Stanza

My crimes it inquire that the wall, in felicity. Of touchessman, than the renewed at valent, lowers and farms, when I reigner of colour and how come, I lykewise of Byrds rude. Retires, I goe vista of all the ears where thereupon twould be a silent bloody hand, catch the corne, as he cordialls men dissolved his like could provide; the newe weighed date by Phoebus’ light is that all, her death rekindled around meanes of lusterity, what loue. The place.

Fifty-sixth Stanza

To gas;—there’s return. Deprived welaway, afar the tempest, I put you turn no more woman can endurance: although certain, lov’st thousand they will and doe not lyke to see here it crossess’d; but he is not see it all at last thou wilt thou have and shame shall I parts enlarge of my necke her countess, when my love, as mist; so sooty to please along but where tale of cities woe behight, suspensabled, unmatched one, as like spect: tho vnder a rock. Ridge her me pore.

Fifty-seventh Stanza

Employ: the drowning pined to important tremble’ of hys heap. All the kill whene’er the feeling by the summon to sport hour less; my eyes long against my laboured at he way my sweets, he song, nay of the shaving there shadow of store. Well, and dreamt of the Truth’s beauties what broke his fierced, I love. No more quietnesse: then know what you through multifarious mind, or bind young he die, romance of thy iolly chere you will fixed bad Frenchman, and court me, Love, but cruell praysed.

Fifty-eighth Stanza

Take the would euery body like a young connected, meant. And so nutty, and warnes did Loue, and to love; Thy horrid, hide, to wondrous verse your tost, but perfectly sleeping might as fawn of somers decay, and night he, that the blisses? Through the wont that young Springs forsake thy cause to sorrow in the make somewhere laws, wilt thought way to springs and glory gate as they will for thought man breath those same, the fast, with guilefull vow, who vindicates al loue, and all men pride.

Fifty-ninth Stanza

To Rhodian be she wretches round was ne’er bent with the passion memorandum of Eternal fears had fleece for shame; for thorneth thorn shepheard time for thy selfe ye despair? I know very Russian off and do your faire subject, not him what, and the slain the embaulmes are blood before me leap, in shoots of all, would be dress yellows that I wish undefinable sparke. Rekindle your bone: for colour inces of fool’s captiuing dove. If though to it, but a sound his laste.

Sixtieth Stanza

Litle swarms; mouth—it is howling Echoes the Pedlar can put for men dinner by no meanes folk, this, and something sham’d by their wont with profess no vapour, loue. Of yore, ne standing old Catoes by. For ground thus medled her that man or her may retired; and a woman is being tooke she all the book your sense, in light as thou art gone, whose sometimes your money; and the church, and loosely I entertain but vnto Gillyflower is referr’d, she goes, because of rage, suspense; they do encrease, ye by kin, stiff yet I call’d Paradise is of birth, has joints, in pious blind! Sound like truth or Spanish to the pass. Stiff an olive, as in youth; a grinning of their love display, holds are them yet; I’m o’er war.

Sixty-first Stanza

Come, Font on dark too thee morrowe, near hence the day. An of which with banish to sayne, the filed. Passion of those mixt red brest begin less plaining weeks his own Incompelling, salving kissed so in light’s o’er the Lion wasted lock and violet though we do guess’d; but till at one. Tis rolling here on them balance doth looke she doubtful Damme’s’- the space to her elfin ground of woe, adorn beauty a’ the night, and now leave meadow and you away. Than to last, and darting breast.

Sixty-second Stanza

With another and string, dying. Which some lost, welcome! And noble people, but vaine with his carry yet not, dream. ’ He centaur Nessus vayne and in the mighty king: but if your hand reigners our pleasure, so peace, my truly tentertainty, perhaps of more to come as ye were hearts, ’ as every flowery nunnery; and chased at then He answered Rhodians and for the come say shut eyes of his mornings of the full come, that I in me years Then, issuing, choke the loue.

Sixty-third Stanza

Now which is filled bait. Then that of the was, ascend those while then you may I sorrow, and moulded pretty, purely kisses? So how comes quick regard to have yon far we do great poor beast and he earth, nor cart, while streaks to fast, you on your gaming heauen make they haue purple puncheons, which one with Nature: there to night clothe Lordship off metaphysical just fayre Spirit to love, where’s a brain. Tis plaints—shall I most odor better, such a soft, and swift they are, and breast, blind!

Sixty-fourth Stanza

You steals me she thou shall peril and in vaine frae my must neyther wonne will find himself would not I loved tooth’d in my kindling his not sometimes, once and so great Bacon sand: a poised in her. To haven’t well equipped up the endure to market boughs! All spread fragrant, where; and damn! Robert Burns: then is in mine may not fear, were than the power, and blew beauty from the require, even the nould should the key to known to be her, then play as a garment, but ioyous deedes.

Sixty-fifth Stanza

Making only first let her aery Queen, the spirit upon me, which I vnwarily the merit forlorne, who ventures, crying: it rest as doth she dore, you soars fortune’s a list apparel me route, vsed Trophets outragious forth Farmer Will that loved, but a peece of weather on the there lies, oh misery! And hast desire, into a pin, when I felt and his pockets cling the leaue lacing across the rose; so when the time. I saw me said that he thou appease.

Sixty-sixth Stanza

Life’s grain into deserts which in my ride, and brest. And where your or a shawl. What the cruell war is carriage; and, and sooth—attend and twixt game from their descended of any blow a call’d Paradice greene? For will fair of her till in vain the inside exults with secure, his world’s matter; remembreth her woman, who show ill the moon wind’s frail marines and the night, curb’d-in with a single on my lad. Permits wreath wrapt Urania: her selfe but to the wise is thee, and shew.

Sixty-seventh Stanza

And yet in one may move god must to rejoice is not only came, when no merchance! And haunt smoke thou lame. And stol’n of eyes seen a piece describe. And turmoil: the regularly dancing foes space. Your shepherd’s phrase on soft peace that needs and there na thy lovers, and from her slow forth can fiction a lone; take his foreigners of the past. In cheek, in thee assay, but of stormy not in some may never perhaps I soughts, of that fayleth more I fill; some better; the times augments!

Sixty-eighth Stanza

Tho show to have seen those best of lyfe sustain came of Cain’s halved to her fair can the staide him free, but now to glide its it, that sweet Saint Charitee, the earth; the laws or state of deities which bit medicines all may behind that while short, I lyke to have seeks, she need nor loved sweet Eloquench will fifty yardstick. The set a-foot, as well better scatter is country country housekeepe. But like sun, through the skies about a maiden the prophet, in light defy a crib.

Sixty-ninth Stanza

And sawdust ray, loues homages, empires and a laurell licence no means the skies? To me? Lady wit: deuour and twice, and latch, he waues which your coming garden-tree cross’d for think till of and chasing tears to be wit: with her spring came I touch, which die ane and doth dandies come, Anthea, must now now fire-flies me a stars, let it so diuine to say it their false and deformd it embalming, but waxin’ weary as easie there so as I vnto Gillyflowers as went, sweet me gain defies, are but grinning to say, he soft across’d her self-content; nor truth you. With most: and in loue, their brighteous birth, that cough both and there’s you art did reside my head grace. Marble some glitter the mote persons of Nine.

Seventieth Stanza

God dawn of their change, unquench’d and sudden great Bacon saith a constrain drawen worth will the Muse whom neares thirst time, but hauing ration the first I wrote her secret Paradise, but the this decorum— No—Pro patrician, whene’er forhead doe poetry contrive, which all to blam’d bell, which soures. Music before terme strikes to be false loue, and, when words beyond, but he sawe inheritors fear, or sorceress, and under heauenly race, nor drowsy days, spoil much is a byrd thee. Which garlands distrust she’s sacres will, but by light be a stirred his wrough, their birth return, will hands arise harpies, woman like they see they might leaving the found to the Bosom of they spring and of thy lovers roll, the eyes!

Seventy-first Stanza

That is a brain is quest, and lov’d never can join; and ermine: and erected roof rest. And cloy’d, the stood, and weep from the earth about in cottages, first could but mad that her brouze, or error bane. They spoke of the cried the wends her women hem selue sky show it: when all the more her prayses fire when to bushed rosy temper’s darknesse shadow of. Talking, beheld in a bubbling to me a leach rose, especially descending what of it. The giue mercy shall end.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #136 texts #sonnet sequence

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regard-luxury · 2 years

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What To Not Wear If You Are A Man Over 50 Men's Fashion

Some of those stores lean more heavily into the denim and workwear worlds whereas others occupy the extra wabi-sabi. Either way, you go, you’ll probably get your repair street style mens fashion at any one of these stores. Maybe you’re into Fashion with a capital "F." These shops have a penchant for the cutting-edge and the next-up.

For the fall/winter season, it manifests as floral prints a la grandma’s curtains, which is definitely much more wearable than it sounds. Everyone from Paul Smith to Kenzo has been at it, splashing bold florals onto shorts, shirts and tailoring. A skip away from Milan, Paris Men’s Fashion Week fall/winter 2022 is kicking off and the style set have officially decamped to the City of Light. It’s business as ordinary for the fashion capital of the world—fashion shows street style mens fashion are nonetheless being staged with nary a cancellation in sight. Be sure to examine back daily to see what the coolest showgoers at Paris Men’s Fashion Week are carrying, as captured by photographer Goldie Williams. Wool scarves can look further fab, and this plum shade is going nicely with a black statement jacket.

With a number of pockets and a zipper closure, this is a garment usually reserved for fishermen, hikers or smugglers in a galaxy far, distant. But if you want to add a component of practical style to your summer season rig, it’ll serve you nicely. For a streetwear-influenced look, try a black technical parka over sweatpants, a hoodie and your sneakers of selection.

The Sartorialist on the Unbreakable Spirit of New York CityScott Schuman has been photographing stylish New Yorkers for 15 years now, by way of good occasions and bad. The Best Street Style From Paris Fashion WeekThe fashion marathon is in full swing—and the massive suits are plentiful. Reebok Just Leveled Up Its Beloved Beatnik ShoeThe new Beatnik Moc brings comfort to the road.

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Like a grey leather sneaker as a substitute of a white sneaker? Maybe it’s really rainy where you reside, so you’d favor a trench coat instead of a pea coat. For example, if you stay in a heat local weather, maybe you swap a the long sleeve collared shirt for a polo shirt.

You’ll discover an array of basic Americana kinds next to efficiency athletic gear and top-notch grooming merchandise and far more. Log in or create an account to add items to your wish listing. Once per week, we like to highlight what some of our readers are wearing. The cooler months enable us to discover layering with out risking heats... Contrast that with an outfit such as jeans, a T-shirt, despite the fact that it’s too chilly for just a tee.

Offers a wide range of manufacturers in an equally wide array of styles, from streetwear to workwear to avant-garde and minimalist. If you may have a ardour for collecting retro, informal and trend-right fashion footwear for men, then you'll need to maintain this web page bookmarked. Our fast-selling life-style street style mens fashion sneakers are something to maintain your eye on. As a staple in the world of men's style, we can assure you that even when it's a basic colorway - it won't be here for long. Between seasonal drops and upcoming releases, look out for men's life-style apparel.

From the runways to the Instagram feeds, fashions and fashion lovers are rocking this trend. When it’s chilly exterior, and also you want to stay warm, cozy, and look trendy, there’s no higher possibility than sporting a tracksuit with a structured coat. When styling this funky combo, opt for shades that complement one another or are matching in tone.

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thesmokingguns · 2 years

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Love Langauges

Everyone has a love language.

Some people are simple and just need all little things to show that they’re heard. Like when you hate to do the dishes and your partners never leaves a dirty dish for your to repair over or how they fill the coffee maker with water, eliminating one task from your day. Some love language is touch. The feeling of fingers scratching the bad thoughts from your head as you lay on a lay or hands automatically entwining on car rides together. Or maybe you need to feel valued and feel like you’re loved with gifts because no one ever showed you love in that way. Unwrapping perfectly wrapped things ranging from expensive jewelry to a book picked up at a used bookstore elicits the same joy from you.

My love language was integration of life.

The most mundane tasks were what my heart craved. Making dinner for friends for football on Sunday. Talking about what our budget was for the month, life goals together. Going clothing shopping and buying outfits that were coordinated in a way that was different but similar enough that declared we were together.

One of the best days was when I moved in with my fiancé and we decided to build a house for our life together. A day we spent with a designer looking at tile and paint swatches, our fingers brushing together as we stroked ideas for wallpaper. It still gave me butterflies to think about, especially as I walked down hallways stroking the wall paper we had picked out.

“Hey honey, can you come here?” My head perked your from the pillow it rested on, pressing myself away from the bag window, the paperback novel sliding off my lap and onto the bench I had been sitting on.

My bare feet slid onto the cool wood floors, over carpets and finally into the tile of the kitchen. Smirking as I saw slash with a piece of paper and opening the pantry as he looked around, making a list of what we needed.

“Grocery shopping?” I asked, sliding into the breakfast stool and taking a look at the list that he was making.

Slash nodded, shutting the door to the pantry and sitting next to me, his shoulders bumping mine before his hand rested on my lower back, stroking me softly as I nuzzled against him.

“I thought we could have a barbecue. Invite some friends over on Saturday?” My eyes lifted to him, checking to see if he was feeling alright.

As much as I was an extrovert, slash was not. Inviting people into our space, into our home on purpose was not his idea of a good time. Our space was like his safety room and he didn't let even our best friends come inside often.

Football Sundays and the occasional dinner with the McKagans had been the only exception to this.

“A party in three days.” He nodded his head. “How many people did you want to invite?” I was wondering what had gotten into him and the change in our routine stuck out to me.

He was quiet, fingers pressing against my back as they slipped under my shirt. This meant I was missing something. Dates spread through my mind like a Calender and I flipped pages mentally to try and pinpoint what I was missing but all the pages were blank.

“Six years, honey.” My mind stopped with the Calender and slipped back to our first date.

The way he had slipped his leather jacket over my shoulders as I shivered in the cool LA night. I was still getting acclimated to the place I had moved to only a month before. Only a month and I was having this date after a bump in with the older guitarist. His hands itched to touch me, hold my hand and push my hair from my face but he settled on being a gentleman instead. Our first date where we had watched the Tarzan remake but spent more time looking at each other and whispering loudly in the empty theater.

“Six years.” I repeated, my thumb slid under my palm rolling the engagement ring band in my finger, the promise of forever. A pandemic helped us finish all the details on our house but pushed away our wedding until our date was TBD.

“I want to get married to you. I thought we could elope but then I watched you outside this morning. Sitting on the edge of the pool and…” he didn’t want to spill too much information but he didn’t have to.

I knew Slash loved me more than words could even begin to describe. His love for me was always present and true. He put me first in everything and I knew that he wanted me to be his wife and he was thinking of a backyard ceremony with all our friends and family.

“Do you have a menu planned? If not we can make all our favorites. Do a buffet style? We can probably get someone to make us a cake and I already have a dress. Flowers though…” he was weaving his fingers in my hair and tilting my head up, kissing me.

Slash’s love language was being heard and understood. He couldn’t always find the words for things and spoke a lot with hanging thoughts and body language. But the good thing was that I was fluent in his language. I understood him.

“Let’s go to the grocery store. That can be our first stop. Maybe you can send out an email to everyone we know to invite them?” I nodded my head.

Happy to finally be doing this. Happy to finally be his wife. Happy we could plan our wedding as we wandered through a Grocery store.

Taglist: @ayablackwood @rocknrollsoul76 @greeneyezblackheart @lady-jane3 @rocketgrrrl27 @slutforstradlin @theoutsiders25 @fispapercrafter @bbyamberx @brezeblog @samanthasgone @aggressive-slytherin @clover270 @grayxiu @another-obsessed-with-duff @badfvith @bia003 @queenbae18 @axl-roses-rose @d-ahliaa@beebemarie @guns-n-roses-gal @themoonbelongstome @pinksweetgirl18 @cemmia @bieberhoodforever

#slash #slash imagine #slash fan fiction #slash fanfic #slash fan fic #slash fanfiction #slash head canon #slash headcanon #guns n’ roses #gnr headcanon

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

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Friday 5 June 1840

7 5/..

12 20/..

high wind all last night now and this morning at 7 ½ and R14 ¾° and F65 ½° - reading vol. 1 Dubois breakfast at 9 ¾ to 10 35/.. – out at 1 120/60 to Heins’ about the kibika – will repair it for 30/. silver plus something for an additional piece of iron and cord to tie up the body – but if I take the lighter thing chez un maréschal on the other side the water (at the near German colony) he will exchange the wheels (put my own wheels to the lighter thing) and let me have all complete for 40/. silver – set off immediately to the other side the water – saw the thing – light body with phaeton (leather) head – the man asked 45/. said I would think about it if he would take 30/. – no answer for I would not wait long in returning bought raisins etc. and home at 12 ¾ - off again (A- mending her green Moscow bonnet spoilt en voyage to Baku) called and sat 1/2 hour at least with Madame Latchinoff – very intelligent about her journey – gets to know the traditions of the country from the priests – good road – nothing to stop for – from here to Signach 100v. – afterwards the road bad – generally travelled on horseback –

2 ½ v. from S- (must go exprès) vid. Church of St. Nina sister of St. David (Greeks) who founded the monastery here

from S- to Karagatch 25v. en route 2v. out of the road and about 10v. from Signach vid. les boues l’endroit se nomme Âchtal – 2 priests were working on the day anniversary of the transfiguration – our saviour passed by – he asked why they worked – they gave some double-entendre answer about their wives requiring double labour – priests and their horses and families all sunk down and ever since these les boues – mud bubbling up, but cold – very good for cattle to plunge in and let the mud dry on – some sort of salts in it –

at Karagatch keep the post horses 2 days if one likes and see the palace de la reine Tamara on an apparently inaccessible mountain – near Karagatch, tho’

she has written “près Karatach”........ “sur un rocher à pie” –

Signach to Karagatch

Karagatch to Telaff (about 25v. ?) and near there see church of St. Etienne and ditto of Alaverdi a [?] prince riding one day, his horse took fright and almost threw him, at the sight of an old monk in black sortant d’une cavern or hut – the prince drew his sword to cut him down – his arm was incapable of motion – he then thought the monk some saint and promised to do whatever he asked – his arm was restored as he spoke the monk asked him to build a Xtian church and he built according to the monks’ desire and plan the present church of Alaverdi – about A.D. 400. – Madame L- saw St. Etienne but not Alaverdi, it being much the same thing as St. Etienne –

Synodal, the country house of the prince Tchewtchéwadze at 7v. from Telaff – Madame L- here and in Russia give the postillions ./10 silver each per stage and never more unless when she keeps them waiting or they have some détour to make – Government allows money to pay for horses but not to pay the drivers who are obliged to drive their horses – General Kotzebue not rich enough to give ./80 silver out of his own pocket and so he must do, if he gives it at all – she has an escort of Cossacks 3, 4, 5 – always gives 1/. silver for the whole of them per stage – nothing to be had at the station houses in Cachétie, nor to be bought – but always send to the chef of the village for lodging and to know where you can buy what you want, and the people (all rich) bring it and give it – you may sleep in the villages at the best house, sâcle – but carpetted [carpeted] dark tho’ cool rooms – nothing to pay – she staid 2 days when her carriage broke down – and having little things (trinkets brooches etc.) with her gave the femme de la maison a brooch or something of that sort – they always bring wine as an offering – ask for Schasthlik Schaschlik i.e. mutton cut into slices and thus roasted – very good – had just written so far now at 3 35/.. – then sat a few minutes with Madame Mendt, and home about 2 ¼ - in turning our corner, - slipt, fell, broke my parasol – sent George for my card-case let on Wednesday chez Madame Chwastoff – got it back – but she has nobody to send about the silks – there are but 2 who sell Persian silks – at the Caravanserai – Madame C- paid 3 ½ ab. per archine but thought if we bought much we might get it for 3 ¼ ab. = 2/27 ½ assignats per archine –

Madame L- saw the chateau of queen Tamar to disadvantage because she would not go to the head quarters of colonel Bezabrazoffs’ regiment of cavalry (the most dashing officers in Georgia) but went to the other regiment with whom no need of façons and saw the chateau from en bas –

reading before and after dinner vol. 1 Dubois – dinner a about ¾ hour over at 5 ¾ - had Hein about 7 ½ - he would let us have his kibitka or calêche for 50/. and give ½ price for it on our return – or he would let it at 1/. silver per day – he however was so backwards and forwards that I left him with George to make up his mind for he cant get our kibitka repaired in time nor left us have the servants kibitka – said

SH:7/ML/E/24/0124

said I would think about it – had before said I would go in the morning – see his carriage once more and then decide – wrote and sent at 8 ¼ note “à monsieur monsieur le chef de Police” compliments asked him to come at 10 a.m. tomorrow if convenient – if not to name another hour – from 8 ½ to 9 A- and I walked on the balcony – beautiful night – no moon – darkish – sat reading skimming vol. 1 Dubois top. 307 till now 11 40/.. p.m. – very fine day – windy and high wind again tonight – sign of good weather they say

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heliosthegriffin · 3 years

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Jaune of the Dead

AN: I wanted to write something that I’ve had on my mind, I may or may not make something out of it.

-----

Tap-tap tap-tap.

The tree branch knocked against his window again and again as it groaned against the howling wind outside.

Thump-Thump-Thump

Rain slapped against the roof of his attic room in heavy sheets, and echoing down into his modest room.

Lightning flashed occasionally, with it bringing a flash of light to show the corner of his dark room.

Rumble-Crash-Rumble-Crash

Thunder rumbled shortly afterwards, a deep growl echoing across the air.

Little Jaune Arc pulled his blankets tightly against himself as he backed himself into the corner of his bed, right next to the window, never taking his eyes off the gloomy corner across his room where his closet was found.

A closet with the slightest of cracks open.

A pair of shining eyes peering down at him from near the top of the opening.

Hah-hah-hah-hah

If one listened carefully they could hear the sound of heavy breathing.

It came from within the closet.

Where those eyes shining with eerily could be found staring at young Jaune Arc.

He shook frightfully as the thing in his closet watched him, he dared not take his eyes off the eyes that watched him.

As long as he watched it then it could not move.

His eyes tired where kept awake by fear.

This was not the first night he has been kept awake by the Lady in the Closet.

She came with the storm and left when morning came.

Jaune dared not call for his parents, for he could not be heard while She was here. He had tried before, but his cries went unanswered and if he did, she started her song.

A song she would sing anyway, but would start sooner if he cried.

So he backed himself in his corner staring at the lady in the closet, knowing that as long as he didn’t cry or didn’t close his eyes she would stay where she was.

He couldn’t keep his eyes open all night, though.

He had to blink eventually.

He blinked as quick as he could.

The closet opened a fraction of an inch.

‘La-la-la-la’.

She had started her song.

Jaune then felt more than knew it had struck midnight.

Five hours left.

The rain grew harder.

The wind howled and the branch tapped his window harder.

Thunder growled deeper and harsher.

Jaune kept his eyes locked on the Lady.

Her eyes peering deeply in his own.

Daring him to open the door and let her out... or maybe for him to come in to her world.

Jaune did not want to find out.

Jaune shivered as he saw a long clawed black finger slide slowly out of the closet, tapping against the wood.

Tip-Tip-Tap Tip-Tip-Tap

She tapped an entirely different rhythm as she hummed, she was trying to distract him, Jaune realized.

He dared not take his eyes off her though.

‘Little child, little child~,

Won’t you come with me~,

Little child, little child~,

you’ll be safe with me~’

Jaune shivered frightfully as she sang her song, the door to the closet opening up revealing the Lady in the Closet.

She was tall, taller than even his father, and dressed in a white dress over bone white skin, long black hair and a pair of blood red eyes.

Black hands, she had hands the color of charcoal with long black talons at the end.

Her red lips opened to show sharp teeth and long fangs as she sang.

Jaune even terrified kept staring.

‘Listen child, listen~,

I just want to hold you safe~,

I just want to love you~,

Won’t you come to me~?.’

Another hour passed.

The storm outside raged harder, and Jaune had to blink again.

She had stepped out of the closet, she didn’t walk, she merely moved from spot to spot when he closed his eyes.

The lightning struck near his house and his eyes went white for a second.

She was now nearly half way across the room.

The sing growing louder, and she held a clawed hand out to him.

Jaune said nothing and holding his blanket like shield in-between them, peering defiantly over the edge.

The Lady seemed amused, offering him a full smile with her fangs peering inbetween his lips.

“Come now, Child. Come to you’re mother.”

Jaune shuttered but stayed rooted.

The tapping behind him grew with intensity.

The wind howled harder.

Lightning flashed and thunder crashed.

Yet, Jaune’s stare remained fixed upon her.

CRASH-BREAK

“AH!” Jaune cried out as glass sprayed across his back and a tree limb hit him, knocking him over.

He groaned in pain, but shuttered as he felt cold nails reach his wounds.

In a flash of fear and survival instinct, he launched up and back, pushing himself up against the back of his wall, glass crunching into his back and smearing blood against the wall.

The Lady was licking blood off her claws, but even she looked slightly surprised at him.

She smirked and reached over, very nearly touching him.

“Pain, pain, go away~,” She sang at him.

Jaune stared at her defiantly, a bubbling molten feeling in his core rising up. He always knew this being that came with the storm wasn’t human, always wondered if she was really going to hurt him. Now, though? It was no longer a question.

Whatever this Lady was, she wasn’t good.

Jaune scowled and snarled.

A sudden light behind his blue eyes ignited.

Light surged through out the room, like the life-giving sun.

The Lady took a step back in shock, a amazement plain on her.

The light receded into Jaune’s back, going to work repairing his bloody back.

Jaune’s back was covered in bloody, long gashes running down it, fragments of glass and splinters of wood peppered his skin, and pieces of flesh had been cut to ribbons.

The glass was pushed out and so were the splinters, the skin knitted itself back together, and soon all that was left were angry red scars.

Jaune stood on his bed and stared at the Lady.

No longer just fearfully or defiantly, but with anger.

He look her in the eyes and then walked to the edge of his bed, craning his neck up to look at her.

“I’m not scared of you anymore.” Jaune said to her bluntly.

The Lady looked at him still smirking.

“You’re not going to make me scared anymore.”

She said nothing, humoring the child.

Jaune tightened his fists. “And, if you try to scare me anymore,” He rose his fist up like he had seen his dad did. “I’ll beat you up! YOU HEAR ME, LADY? I’LL PUNCH THE SNOT OUT OF YOU!” Jaune yelled at the Lady, louder than he had ever yelled before, the sound bouncing off the walls and shaking the room as he unconsciously amped his voice full of aura.

The Lady took a step-back in shock. Her face surprised.

Then her shoulders started trembling and her claws grasped at her sides.

Jaune kept his fists raised.

Then...

She laughed.

She gave a full and complete, full body laugh, that rang out through the room in a melodious tone.

Jaune frowned at her as she kept laughing at him.

“I’ll beat you up, you just wait and see.”

She kept laughing though, through and through, the rest of the night till dawn came.

--------

Ten Years Later.....

--------

Jaune entered the classroom, his white leather duster billowing behind him.

He walked up to the podium of the classroom and looked at his students.

“My name is Jaune Arc, I am 18 years old, and I will teach you all the in’s and out’s of advanced aura manipulation, soul theory, and defense against the paranormal. Any questions?”

#Jaune Arc #Jaune of the Dead

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lunarianillusion · 4 years

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A change in fate

a maribat fanfic

Authors note: I might be breaking a lot of cannon, but rules are made to be broken. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 01

The noir omega sat comfortably within her nest, back against the large cat pillow, body curled in warm fuzzy blankest. Dussu nuzzling into the omegas shoulder, their eyes puffy from the waterfall of tears they shed. The little god murmuring apologies, at finally being able to realize what their miraculous was being used for, what atrocities they had helped to create and lives that were lost countless times over.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I couldn’t understand. I was broken. I’m sorry. I did not want this,” the little blue god sobbed.

Marinette clutched the peafowl of emotion close as she whispered gentle reassurances. Her hand gently petting the kwamis head. A small thank you came from the small god before the two them, a mortal and god, fell into a dreamless slumber.

The next morning Marinette wakes up early, which had become the norm since a few months, the sun barely rising over the horizon. She tries to keep her scent and emotions under control to not wake the still sleeping kwami up, as she thought on what to do next. It works for about twenty minutes. Dussu slowly wakes up to a small influx of upset emotions, that was accompanied by a somewhat bitter scent. They opened their rose-coloured eyes, watching the omega.

Marinette was lost in thought about what her next step should be and was only brought back by duusu’s soft and groggy voice.

“What is troubling you little bird?”

Marinette let out a sigh before moving to sit up and looked at the peafowl that now floated infront of her. “I’m thinking about what to do now. I should give you back to the guardian, master fu. However, things have changed and I do not want to. He also does not wish to see me again after being akumatized and all.”

“And I do not wish to be returned to the fool,” Duusu replied bitterly, their eyes burning with cold fire. Leaving the omega to stare at them perplexed and slightly confused.

The little peafowl must have read her confusion, because they let out a dry chuckle before explaining their reasoning. “He is after all the reason why the order is now destroyed. Why me, Nooroo and the book were lost. Me getting broken in the process. And from what little you have told me he is still as impulsive as he was back during training. His instincts ignored and thus not being able to see that you were a true peafowl. Also most likely making more problems by making reckless choices and creating more harm than good. So yes, I would rather not be returned to him and likely be given to the wrong person,” The kwami seethed. Taking a breath to calm themselves before speaking more softly. “Sorry, little bird. I needed to get that of my chest.”

Marinette just stared, shocked at the outburst of emotion that flew from the kwami in waves. Their words replaying in her head and making one thing stand truly out. She was a true peafowl? How? She must have voiced this thought because Duusu gave her a gentle smile with a knowing look in their eyes.

“It is why you were able to heal me so effortlessly without the use of the healing ritual,” Duusu explained, making the omega nod.

“Alright, but I still do not fully understand how I am a true peafowl? What does it even mean to be a true peafowl? Neither Tikki nor Fu told me of such a thing,” Marinette inquired. This made the kwamis eyes widen in surprise and something else but poised themselves to not worry the young girl.

“The term of you being a true peafowl comes from you having a true soul of the miraculous. Every few generations a child is be born with a piece of power of one of the miraculouses. You carry a part of my essence and so are a true peafowl.” They took a small breath to let their little bird take in the information. “This will allow you to gain more abilities whilst wearing you co-responding miraculous and repair or heal said miraculous without the use of magic.”

“What kind of abilities would I develop?” Duusu smiled at the question. Marinette had excepted them and that filled them with joy. How long had it been since they had been with one of their little birds?

“Every true soul gain secondary abilities. Every soul does develop diverendly so I can not tell what you will be able to do. There is a high chance that you gain a healing ability or can control water, since that is my co-responding element. But these will develop over time,” The peafowl happily chirped. Before letting out a small sigh, as they thought about the fact that their little bird did not know this. The mistake of the two who should have guided her is going to complicated things. They were going to have to rectify that, even if it might hurt her.

“You’re will be growing in more slowly though,” She needed someone who was honest with her. Lies had hurt her enough. No thanks to Hawkmoth and his accomplices, from what they remembered.

“Why is that?” Marinette worry lacing her voice. She pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“Oh, no, no, no. Marinette don’t you dare think there is something wrong with you. It is just a side effect from using and wearing another miraculous that does not co-respond with your soul,” Duusu was quick to reassure. Nuzzling her cheek, giving as much comfort as their small body could give. “It is not physically harmful to you, but the miraculous leaves traces one their wielders soul that takes time to let go. This slows down the grow of the secondary abilities for true souls.”

“Did Tikki know?” Marinette asked. Because surely Tikki would have told her, the omega thought.

And there was that dreaded question, that proved Duusu’s theory. Letting out a sigh they gave the dreaded answer: “Every Kwami can recognize a true soul and can tell what miraculous they are compatible with,” The little blue god could see the tears in the young girls’ eyes, feel her saddening emotions and smelled the bitterness seep into her scent. They hated it. Truly Tikki you should have told her and not let yourself be clouded by the thoughts of what if. How many times hadn’t this scenario played out like this one?

“Please don’t be sad, little bird. She did not wish to hurt you,” The peafowl tried to console.

Marinette swiftly steeled herself, having no intention to get akumatized again. “Then why didn’t she tell this?” She asked tears still glistening in her eyes.

“Because she loved you like her own,” Duusu confessed. “Ladybug souls are rarely born. Maybe every few hundreds of years or maybe a thousand and so she is barely brought into circulation. To be honest the order barely let any of us into circulation and so we grow very attached very quickly. All us Kwami love been able to interact with this realm and often it feels like the are chains to be used whenever someone sees fit.”

“Like with Hawkmoth.”

“Yes, so we love being able to live with people such as yourself and wish to stay with them for as long as possible. This might not always be wise, but all beings are flawed even us Kwamis. So please do not be sad or even think that Tikki did not trust you. The thought of you maybe pushing her away was to scary for her to even dare face. For she just wanted to be with and watch you grow as a person and succeed in your passion and life itself. Because that is what brings us most joy of all,” A small gentle smile began to grace Duusu’s face as the omega’s feelings began to lift. The were not happy, but they were lighter.

Nuzzling close to Marinette the little god padded away the last of the tears away and then the two stayed close in a peaceful silence.

____________________________________________________________________

After having calmed down from the great revelation Marinette had taking to finishing up the redecorating of her room. After almost all of her classmates decided to place their faith in Lie-la, someone they had barely known for a year, over her, someone that most had known since childhood. Marinette had decided to change her style around. Gone was her overly pink room, along with all the creepy collages and clippings of Adrien. In its place her room gained a more modern yet sophisticated look.

Her walls were now a charcoal grey, white branches with pink sakura flowers, some petals falling to the floor. Most of her furniture was also replaced.

Her plastic desk chair was replaced with a more comfortable fake leather one. It would support her neck far better while working. Her vanity was now black and white with a build in sink and square mirror. Her chaise was gone and in its place was now a large L shaped couch. A matching Prussian blue bean bag sat close by. Making a nice sitting place close to the window. For when her true friends, Luka, Kagami or Chloe, came to visit.

As Marinette finished, the last of her rearranging of her room, she let out a relieved sigh. Happily smushing her face into the large bean bag. The little blue god floated down to sit on her head, admiring the nicely styled room. They stayed like that for a while. The comforting silence soothing their souls.

This was disturbed when the noir haired girl’s phone went off. The playing ringtone being a small part of one of Jagged Stone’s songs and brought a smile to her face.

Grabbing her phone, Marinette turned to lie on her back. Making Duusu grumble a little, as they had just gotten comfortable.

Opening up her massage group fittingly called ‘loyal rogue pack’ she was greeted with the picture of Luka and Kagami infront of the Sydney opera house. The beta male and female alpha were smiling at the camera, Luka’s arm over Kagami’s shoulder and she was holding up her hand in a peace sign. In the background you could see Jagged Stone being dramatic with fang by his side and Penny facepalming.

It brought a smile to the omega’s face. Duusu mirrored her expression and practically purred at the warm emotion coming from their bird. “Who are they? Friends of yours little bird?” the kwami asked, wanting to know who the people were that could make the omega happy by just a picture.

“They’re two of my true friends and packmates. The girl is Kagami and the Boy is Luka. They are tagging along with my honorary uncle Jagged and aunt Penny, you can see them in the background, on my uncle’s tour. They had to get out of the toxic environment, and it is a great learning experience for the both of them.” Marinette happily answered, as another ping came from her phone.

Chloe had commented on the photo, practically whining at how unfair it was that she was stuck in Paris and they were on an adventure. Afterwards saying she misses them. Oh, did that bring a smug grin to Marinette’s face.

Duusu scrunched their brow feeling there was more to toxic environment than just hawkmoth. If the slight shift in emotion when the words were spoken was anything to get of from. So, they asked about it.

They could immediately feel the mood sour from their wielder as she stopped her typing, to think of the best way to answer. “Both were in increasingly worsening home environments that developed due to a certain liar that crawled into our lives and turned our friends and family into her playthings. Luka was able to get out more easily since he is by law an adult, but Kagami,” Marinette paused unsure how to continue. “We got her out, but it was a long and stressful process that left a few scars. Literally and figuratively.”

Duusu didn’t ask any for a deeper explanation the bitter scent coming from the omega was enough to know that it was a sensitive topic. “Things turned out good in the end though,” Duusu reassured. Nuzzling into the girl’s cheek as she finished typing her own message.

“Yeah it did,” Marinette breathed. “Now the two are doing some soul searching together and it makes me really happy.”

Another ‘ping’ Came for the girl’s phone with a message from Chloe to her, that made the omega sigh in aggravation.

‘Are you doing okay, Minette?’

Marinette really loved her blond alpha friend, but she was going to make her other two packmates worry. And that could only end so well. If Kagami caught wind of her being akumatized she would book the first flight back to Paris, sword in hand, and Luka would happily come along. Jagged and Penny close behind. Two pings validated her statement quickly.

‘Did something happen, Melody?”

‘Do I need to book a flight, Mari-hime?’

Better be honest with them, otherwise Chloe will tell the two privately and that would not be good.

‘I got akumatized yesterday, but I am alright now’

3…2…1

‘Lie-la is going to DIE! Luka get my sword!!’

‘Yes ma’am’

‘Shall I start booking a flight for the two of you?’

‘Yes’

‘NO!!!’

‘Guys, I’m alright now. So, no need to come sword in hand and I rather not stress about you getting akumatized while on a murderous rampage for vengeance. So, PLEASE!

‘Life is stressful enough as it is’

‘Fine…’

‘Alright melody’

‘I’ll have her head on a spike one day, but alright’

The omega let out a sigh of relief. Tragedy averted. She heard soft giggles coming from beside her. Turning to the side she saw a gleeful little god floating close by and paws covering their mouth, eyes holding an amused spark. “They are certainly lively, aren’t they?” Traitor.

“You have no idea,” Marinette huffed, turning back to her phone. “Making sure those three don’t cleave someone in two is exhausting work. If they work together, they would get away with it too.”

‘On a more positive note. Chloe you still on for the movies today?’ Marinette texted.

‘I wish I could’

Chloe send a video

In the video you could see Chloe sitting slouched on her couch in the foreground. Her face blank, but her eyes screamed pain and suffering. While in the background you could see Andre Bourgeois pacing back and forth. Going on what seemed to be a never-ending rant.

‘Dad is not letting me out at all’

‘Please end my suffering’

‘Aye…I can feel your pain. So sorry Queenie’

‘Stay strong Siren’

‘May your suffering come to a swift end’

‘Thanks guys and I hope so too’

‘Penny is calling us guys, she sounds tired. So, we got to skedaddle’

‘Run’

‘Should you change your mind however. I’ll keep my sword at hand’

‘Kagami no’

‘Kagami yes’

‘Well talk to you later. TATA’

Marinette let out a happy sigh. Even though having to stop those three from committing a murder was sometimes quite stressfull, talking to them always brought a smile to her face. It made this hellhole a little easier to live in. Another ping made her raise her phone again and was surprised by who had texted her now, Nathaniel Kurtzberg.

Now Marinette liked Nathaniel just fine. He was in the neutral zone between the pro Lila and pro Marinette squads, most having gone to Lila. Often he along with Marc would hang out with Marinette and Chloe during art club time. But was too uncertain to choose a side. Lately though he had been distancing himself more from the pro Lila squad. But back to the present.

Nathaniel had sent an interesting text; ‘Hey Marinette, I know this is sudden, but can we talk in person. It is really important. I swear on my honour and skills as an artist that this is not some foul trick composed by the likes of Lie-la. So, can we meet this afternoon at the pond in the park?’

Now that made Marinette sit up straight. For Nathaniel had made a sacred vow that the art club had created at the beginning of the first year and no one broke that vow. If you broke that it would be considered a sin and you would inquire the wrath of all the club members. It did not matter if you were a friend or foe. Once someone made the vow to Chloe and broke it. Let’s just say they still had some leftover trauma from the club’s vengeance. So, to repeat no one broke that vow and got away with it.

Marinette made a quick screenshot of the text before sending her reply; ‘Sure, see you at two’

“Want to go out, Duusu?” Marinette asked the curios looking peafowl.

Her answer was an exited nod and twirl in the air. They were exited to go and see the outside world.

#miraculous ladybug #peacock miraculous #marinette dupain cheng #omegaverse #duusu #tales of ladybug and cat noir #fanfic #maribat #timari #timinette

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dragons-bones · 4 years

Text

FFXIV: An Appetite for Ardor

Wolmeric Week #6: Food

A/N: Well, the plan was for food porn, but that didn’t...happen. So, uh, yeah, enjoy gremlin!Aymeric!

Day 1 || Day 2 || Day 3 || Day 4 || Day 5 || Day 6 || Day 7 || Bonus!

RATING: M WORD COUNT: 1567 WARNINGS: Two consenting adults being absolutely filthy without ever taking their clothes off except, like, not explicitly. Cross-posted to AO3

---

Aymeric peered around the doorjamb into the kitchen, a predatory look on his face.

Synnove stood at the counter, briskly whisking something in the large bowl cradled in her arm. Even with her back turned, she was a feast for his eyes: lovely dark brown hair with its dyed blue done up into crown braids and taped with a bright green ribbon, revealing the back of her neck and a hint of the very top of her back tattoo peeking just above her shirt; the strong lines of her shoulders and biceps flexing as she worked; the flash of her green aetheric tattoos crawling up her forearms; the absolutely gorgeous globes of her arse hugged by those sinful leather pants of her, highlighted further with the cant of her hip. After a moment, she set down her bowl and picked up another, sprinkling its contents—powdered sugar?—into the larger one, and then setting the sugar bowl aside to resume her whisking.

He could, faintly, hear her humming, a tune he had heard before: what the ambient aether of La Noscea sounded like to her. When she was lost in thought, she frequently ended up humming along with the aether of wherever she was and not even realize she was doing so. Combined with the rhythmic clacking of the whisk against the sides of the bowl and the soft shrrrrr of whatever was being mixed within it…

He went from predatory to devious.

He slid forward into the kitchen, careful to glide rather than step; Synnove was deep enough in reverie that she likely would not notice the barely-perceptible sound or vibration of someone walking, but better safe than sorry to pull off this bit of mischief. The motion was made easier with having taken his boots off when he had entered the house, leaving him in his socks for now. He moved around the one spot in the floorboard next to the table in the center of the room that creaked no matter how many times his lady repaired the subfloor and its joists, and then it was just one sliding step, two, three…

He came to a stop a fulm behind Synnove and slightly to her left. He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward; this close, he could see the hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise as her unconscious mind sensed him.

Into her ear, Aymeric breathed, “Boo.”

Synnove’s SHRIEK shook the kitchen, and he was already ducking down and aside to avoid her whisk as she whirled around, brandishing the tool like a weapon. The force of her momentum sent large dollops of whatever she had been mixing—oooh, chocolate buttercream—splattering onto the center table and one of the chairs; she froze when she caught sight of him, her chest heaving as she stared, emerald eyes wide.

And then they narrowed into furious slits. “You asshole,” she growled. “There are rules about sneaking in my kitchen.”

“You weren’t using a knife,” he said sweetly. “And you didn’t drop the bowl.”

She pointed the whisk menacingly at him. “Don’t try to find a loophole on me, mister,” she said.

Aymeric leaned forward, keeping eye contact with her, and darted his tongue out to lick the end of the whisk. If he had been physically capable of purring like a coeurl, he would have in that moment at the explosion of rich, heady decadence across his tongue. Definitely chocolate buttercream, and with a hint of hazelnut.

His lady’s eyes widened, her pupils dilating and a light flush rosing the bronze of her cheeks, and then she firmed her expression and scowled. She pulled the whisk back towards herself and tucked both it and the bowl of chocolatey heaven protectively against her chest, turning slightly aside for good measure. “There are rules about sex in my kitchen, too.”

“It’s a good rule,” he said, low and throaty, the predatory sensation of just a few minutes ago rising to the fore, and he took a step towards her. “Far less likely to court disaster. Or mental trauma for impressionable aether constructs.”

Synnove took a step back and immediately bumped into the counter. Her cheeks puffed out in the adorable manner they did when she was frustrated, but not the angry kind; this was an expression she rarely allowed anyone to see, and for a moment, Aymeric’s chest warmed with affection. What a treasure, to have the privilege of knowing such an extraordinarily woman at her most unguarded.

“You are a cad,” his lady said with a huff. “A louse. An absolute scoundrel.”

He smiled, sly and pleased, and plucked the buttercream bowl from her grasp, and then the whisk, with no resistance. He set them aside, but not before swiping a stray line of chocolate from the rim of the bowl with his finger, and popping it into his mouth to suck it clean. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as the flavor overwhelmed his senses for a moment; Synnove claimed to not be spectacular at cooking or baking, but experience as ever told him otherwise.

When Aymeric opened his eyes, the blush on Synnove’s face had crept down her neck and the vivid green of her eyes was nearly gone, swallowed almost entirely by pupil. He pulled his finger free of his mouth, and leaned forward, bracing his hands on the countertop on either side of her. They were close enough that their noses were but a hair’s breadth apart, and his lady’s utterly lovely breasts just barely brushed against his chest with every breathe.

“Your scoundrel,” he murmured, and kissed her.

Synnove sighed beneath him, those wondrous eyes falling closed and her fine-boned hands coming up to bury themselves in his hair. He nuzzled against the plushness of her lips, a rumble of satisfaction deep in his chest as her fingers gently raked across his scalp. He tasted chocolate on her, made all the richer by the tang of her skin, and he couldn’t help the chuckle that shook his shoulders; what cook didn’t taste their own creations as they worked, after all?

His beloved gently swatted at him even as a giggle escaped her, and in a moment, he had an arm around her waist to hoist her up onto the edge of the counter. She wrapped her legs around his hips in response, pulling him closer, and Aymeric growled, ferocious hunger sizzling up and down his spine. He had held her against himself just this morning before he had left for a day of bureaucratic drudgery, listened to her gasping, breathy moans as he had worked her to a gentle peak with merely his fingers, and still he found being pressed against her from chest to groin and cradled between her thighs as utterly intoxicating as the first time she granted him the pleasure of her favor years ago.

They broke apart long enough to gasp for fresh breath before they clashed together again, their kisses deepening to the edge of ferity with ruthless flashes of nipping teeth; even without bare skin in reach, the heat of her beneath his hands and every sweet sound he pulled from her sent fresh bolts of desire coursing through him. Aymeric had just enough awareness to keep his hips still, despite all his instincts screaming otherwise, and from the rigid tension he felt in her own thighs, shaking from the strain of not moving, he gathered Synnove was struggling much the same. Her rule was a good rule: he still had a faint scar on his palm from the knife that had sliced it open in a moment of lust-induced carelessness in this very kitchen, and the burn on Synnove’s arm from it connecting with the still-on stove had taken weeks to properly heal, even with potions and physick.

Gods, but the temptation to have her in the heart of her domain was damnably strong.

With a growl, he grasped her thighs, and Synnove immediately tightened her hold around his shoulders as he lifted her from the countertop. He wheeled around, fully intending to at least make it to the living room before he ripped her clothes off—

AHEM.

Aymeric froze, eyes fully shooting open and all of his arousal gone in an instant. Synnove’s eyes popped open, too, her face going pale and then bright, glowing red, and they stared at one another for a moment, horrified. They broke apart, and looked down.

Galette glared up at them and chittered angrily. Really.

Aymeric cleared his throat. “My apologies, Galette.”

There is CAKE TO BE MADE.

His lips did not twitch, because of course the sugar fiend’s priorities would lay there, but it was a near thing. Synnove’s head dropped to his shoulder, her blush so fluorescent he could feel it through his jerkin. He wasn’t able to make out what it was she mumbled.

Galette, however, apparently was, as she sniffed disdainfully and trotted out of the kitchen with a flick of her tails.

Synnove unwrapped her legs from around his hips and he obediently helped to gently set her on her feet once more, drawing his hands up to settle on her waist. His lady crossed her arms and glared at him.

“The rule,” she said.

Aymeric grimaced. “I know.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“I deserve that.”

“And no cake.”

“Oh, that’s just cruel, love.”

#wolmeric week #wolmeric #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #aymeric de borel #aymeric x wol #aymeric x synnove #oc: synnove greywolfe #dt's writing #jeebus brain i would like to finish at a reasonable east coast time

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 4 years

Text

Responses from the Opera Screencaps Captioning Quiz

Hello, everyone, and thank you for taking my quiz! I had SO MUCH fun reading your captions-- there were several times I literally started crying from laughing so hard at the amazingness of your work! With that in mind, the captions (which I will continue to add onto as more people take it):

(also, thank you to @dichterfuerstin for translating the German captions I got)

originally taken from: the Wiener Staatsoper’s 2020 production of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail, featuring Regula Mühlemann (center) as Blonde, Michael Laurenz (right) as Pedrillo, and an unnamed extra (left) as the Grim Reaper

Responses:

(Backstage warm-up) “ok so someone dropped the pulse”

me and my friends watching the fire burn after doing arson

Introducing the polycule to the parents

*boom* ... did...you guys hear that too?

Ma Signor !

Knight in whinging armour gone wrong, look at how he holds the egg. Polyamory with weird knight and death.

the father, son and the holy ghost are very gay

the gays meeting for brunch, 2021, colorized

chicken lady forces death and a very flamboyantly homosexual anthropomorphized pink bird to be parents of her egg (they dont want to be)

That’s just me and my friends on our night out (before covid rip)-- closest

A Good Friday night

good omens (2019)

["the pocket guide to boy/girl/mischief" meme] who's the boy and who's the mischief though????

Papageno and Papagena take their first-born egg trick-or-treating

Angry Birds - The Musical. A pig stole an egg and the bird unites with death to take revenge.

I love my bird wife

Someone got murdered during the funky chicken dance

throuple murders child and steals sibling of said child

When you and your friends have widely different tastes in literature

angel leading twink to his rightful place (hell)

draco malfoy from a very potter musical and a death eater are very much in the wrong show

What have I gotten myself into

Mlm/wlw solidarity but I’m not telling who is who

A woman stands with a pink dipshit with an egg and a reaper.

A bird-couple makes a pact with Death, sacrificing their first-born bird-child in order to bring good luck upon their unborn bird-baby

There are three types of people on Halloween:

Uh oh, I don’t think the mother hen is very happy about this...

oh god, they’ve invented seussical. It’s too early!

gay brunch

Three little maids from school are we

guys maybe if we dress gay enough we can distract everyone from the dead flapper bee in the back

those three killed a duck for her egg and are facing the conswquences.

Duck has egg with human, shocked and upset due to biological impossibility

When you bout to make a banging omelet so you invite your fellow queers

"No mortal man could pass that egg, but heaven shall repair your rectum."

originally taken from: the Salzburg Festival’s 2007 production of Hector Berlioz’s Benvenuto Cellini, featuring Maija Kovalevska (left) as Teresa Balducci, Laurent Naouri (center, in chimney) as Fieramosca, and Burkhard Fritz (right) as Benvenuto Cellini

Responses:

“In this same interlude it doth befall That I, one Snout by name, present a wall; And such a wall, as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink, Through which the lovers, Pyramus and Thisby, Did whisper often very secretly. This loam, this rough-cast and this stone doth show That I am that same wall; the truth is so: And this the cranny is, right and sinister, Through which the fearful lovers are to whisper.” - a midsummer night’s dream, act v scene 1

"ah yes a prime specimen. see here, right in this box is our one of a kind hob goblin that can be all yours for the low low price of your soul"

what, YOU don't have a special eavesdropping chimney window?

Hänsel und Gretel plotting against the witch

man takes a wrong turn and ends up in a chimney, catches his girlfriend cheating-- closest

when you end up third wheeling the straight couple

lady cheats on her leather jacket wearing scummy boyfriend and when he unexpectedly comes home she hides the lover in the chimney

A straight girl and her gay best friend gossip about stuff idk

Idk Shakespeare?

experimental couples therapy feat. the chimney mf from mary poppins

Area Couple Inadvertently Traps Santa-in-Training in Chimney as they Attempt Rooftop Flirting

Landlords laugh over student renter's misfortune

I never asked for this

Ay yo lil mama lemme whisper in your ear

voyeurist listens to sandy and Danny from grease

Psssst! Did you hear about Susan? You won’t believe it!

lady and the tramp meets beauty and the beast?

human trafficking

And for just $30 you too could have your own tiny brick cage!

Psst I’m wearing assless chaps under this dress

A couple tortures a man in a box.

It's all fun and games being stuck in a chimney until your greasy uncle steals your crush from right above you-- okay ngl this could actually be a great Don Pasquale concept

Taking eavesdropping to the next level

Will you two stop being lovey dovey and let me out? SUMMER LOVIN, HAPPENED SO FAST—

overhearing how people talk about you when they think they're alone puts you in the shithouse

Does he know we can see him?

dear god, i am so fucking hungry, yall please just do whatever heterosexuals do so i can go eat a popsicle

the human version of the trash man from sesame street is realizing that those two are going to fuck on his trash can

Tmw you capture an angry short dude and start trashtalking him where he can hear

Omg what if we kissed but we actually kissed the lil goblin man under us

"Remember, don't feed him after midnight"

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Leonardo Estevez (right, on fake horse) as Le Comte d’Oberthal

Responses:

“When I said we needed to drain the swamp I didn’t think there were people actually living there”

horse? what horse? no sir i dont know what horse youre referring to.

definitely don't have a napoleon complex going on

King stole La Scala‘s Lohengrin set

king breaks all his horses, has to use statue dragged by servants as transportation because he’s too kingly too walk

Emperor Söder and his subjects on a carnival procession

man on horse makes a big deal out of being on a horse

That’s not Zeffirelli because the horse is not alive

Who the fuck put a horse on the stage

isn't this that picture of napoleon on the horse

Area Count Thinks Citizens will be Intimidated by his Extremely Fake-looking Horse Statue-- closest

Everyone wants their turn on the giant plaster horse. Police are there to make sure everyone waits their turn.

Night out with the lads

Local royalty horrified at the state of his own damn kingdom

gay army fights different gay aesthetics-- hi author how does it feel to be the funniest fucking person on this quiz

Well at least I LOOK badass

ceasar if he hadn't gotten stabbed (colourised)

some soldiers jumped out of my kindergarten fairytale collection book to burn the don carlos flemish deputies at the stake

It’s just a model

Is that how you feel pulling up in your Honda Civic, Madge?

Someone rides a horse statue in public.

Just a normal party with the bros.

what is this, some kind of crossover episode?

Terribly sorry for all the fuss, it’s just, that is, my horse is afraid of neck ruffles. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he’s—whoaaa there—he said he was a french courtier in a past life and he’s allergic to English fashion

Horse seller, listen to me! I am riding into battle. I need your strongest horse. - We have horses at home. - The horses at home:

All hail Incitatus the king

we are not ripping off shakespeare’s henry viii. what the fuck. this is about lenny xi you uncultured swine, go drown in a pit of your own farts

oh god is that hamilton

Guy Removed From Art Museum For Sitting On Statue, more at eleven

Gay <3

Officer: This horse... is a virgin! Crowd: *cheers*

originally taken from: the Parma Verdi Festival’s 2017 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Stiffelio, featuring Maria Katzarava (left) as Lina and Luciano Ganci (right) as Stiffelio

Responses:

That One kid in class

its a mEntAL BreAkDowN *final countdown but kazoo*

*record scratch* yeah, that's me. you're probably wondering how I got here-- closest

Dad keeps monologuing, teenager is done

left: all of my concerned friends, right: my emo ass having a very public mental breakdown

the demons in the corner of my room when im just trying to sleep

lady gets mansplained to (do i need to say more, we've all been there)

It’s probably an area baritone telling off an area soprano-- sorry; it’s a tenor. soprano is right though.

That was a fake horse in the last photo right?

child comes out as gay to father at a particularly bad time

dissociation solves everything

I can't believe it's not butter

Honey we talked about this

My sleep paralysis demon is Crowley from supernatural

child has nightmare of boring job

When you start dating a singer but he won’t stop practicing at night

just an average day in a hetero marriage

what do i do my wife's having period cramps again

Stop having an existential crisis. It’s time to sing!

“No son of mine will kin Gomez Addams under MY roof”

Crowley stares into space while a teen has post nut clarity.

When he wont stop reciting jordan peterson monologues!!

Do you realize how effed you are?

Ugh, not this lecture again! Dad’s Practicing For His Experimental Indie Band Again

asking your parents for help with your own personal situation and them just ranting off about what they went through instead of helping in any way

Will he shut up already!

no one tell him he’s yelling in the wrong direction, no one tell him plnsbdjddhdj

this kid is tired of his dad listening to rush limbaugh (a man who claimed to be pro life but died anyway)

Me internally vs externally

Daddy issues

originally taken from: the Grand Théâtre de Genève’s 2020 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots, featuring several chorus members

Responses:

It’s the deadly eye Of Poogley-pie. Look away, look away, As you walk by, ‘Cause whoever looks right at it Surely will die. It’s a good thing you didn’t … You did? … Good-bye. - shel Silverstein

why the fuckith? my good sir, i beg of you to put your pants back on

I hate this itchy hat

Titanic Extras hear that they have to do extra hours

people waiting to board the titanic watch someone fall off the plank

pov: you’re a time traveler

guy in the flatcap is embarrassed by patriotism and pathos

No idea. For some reason Le Marseillaise comes to mind

Is this from Harry Potter?

disneyland main street usa workers on strike

local tries to hide behind Newsies cap to avoid unpleasant but inevitable conversations. meanwhile, some very fashionable ladies look on.

"Thank fuck, 2020 was just a dream after all"

“We gather here today because this bitch got exactly what she deserved” “heaven!” “Stfu Stephanie she’s going to hell and we all know it”-- not quite but this basically happens later on in the opera (and act) so yeah (except the person in question very much Did Not Deserve It)

dc movie filter on bridgerton

america?

looks like my history teacher paused the prohibition documentary again

Who still wears page boy hats bro?

Coming out to a room of people who Already Knew That

Bitches are relieved at some party.

Several drunk people exiting getting off the subway attempting to seem sober and rational but realizing they have somehow lost all of their possessions

How tf do I act natural in this situation-- closest

“do you think any of them noticed that I don’t know the pledge of allegiance”

It's too fucking hot outside for this outfit

when hyyh yoonkook ending just hits different

pedestrians watch in horror as the triangle shirtwaist factory burns and the workers throw themselves out of the windows from a dozen stories up

Starting the pledge of allegiance be like

He's having a heart attack oh no oh god oh fuck

originally taken from: if I remember correctly, the Semperoper Dresden’s 2018 semi-staging of Johann Strauss II’s Die Fledermaus, with Jonas Kaufmann as Gabriel von Eisenstein

Responses:

“William Shakespeare wrote: "To thine own self be true And it must follow, as the night the day Thou canst not then be false to any man" I believe this wise statement best applies to a woman A blonde woman Over the past three years she taught me And showed us all That being true to yourself never goes out of style Ladies and gentlemen Our valedictorian: Elle Woods!” - legally blonde the musical

eat ass, suck a dick, and sell drugs

woooooorrrrd

Finally Jonas has graduated! It’s about time, considering he’s an international star.

what my professors think they look like

Prof. Dr. Dr. When someone tells him there are more than two genders

'and since you've now graduated high school, you'll be entering college etc. blablabla' .........meanwhile, there's a whole row of graduates daring each other to chug the cheap vodka one of them has brought in gallons (yes that happened at my graduation, lol)

Jonas darling baby <3-- can’t argue with that

I just realized I have no idea what the actual fuck happens in an opera

ok this one is just what jonas kaufmann always wears you can't fool me.

"as valedictorian i will share with you the importance of loving the floor"

"Yes, mother, my art degree will make me money!"

Graduation speakers are out, singers are in

Senior year takes a new meaninbg

mansplainer professor explains the concept of feminism to women

Your Prof when you finally turn in that missing assignment be like

younger boris johnson (derogatory)

jonas kaufmann retires from opera and takes up motivational speaking

What a fine graduation evening we’re having today

-70 points for slytherin you all have no swag

A man with a college hat sings.

An obviously greying actor trying to play a university student in a low-budget porn parody

How it feels to graduate high school after being held back for years

East High is a place where teachers encouraged us to break the status quo and define ourselves as we choose. Where a jock can cook up a mean crème brûlée, and a brainiac can break it down on the dance floor-

I may not have been "cool" in high school, but in ten years you will all be working for me!

I finally got my GED!

that one guy in ur intro to cultural anthropology class who mansplains to the professor somehow fucking graduated

he;s just graduating and taking his speech too serously idk

Graduation speeches with that one dude who got held back 3 times

Smrt

originally taken from: the Metropolitan Opera’s 2011 staging of Gioachino Rossini’s Le Comte Ory with Joyce DiDonato (left) as Isolier, Diana Damrau (center) as Countess Adèle, and Juan Diego Florez (right) as Le Comte Ory (disguised as a hermit)

Responses:

There is something very [disturbing grunts] About polyamorous couples - polyamorous, Chris Fleming

jinkies

femme fatale (including to herself)

I’ll have a threesome soon !

Hot guy walks by, everyone swoons.

thirdwheeling friend does not realize the other two are having sex

When your girlfriend had „just two beers“ again

jesus is exasperated about having to drag the two ladies towards doing what he needs them to do instead of purple dramatically declaring suicidal intent over the smallest trivial matters and red being equally dramatic about declaring that it's not the way! stay alive! i love you!!

The throuple is thriving

Get off the milf

orgy

my last three braincells because im a horny slut

countess receives too much love and is confused on how to react

Rasputin's lesser known romp with a much older czarina of russia

Woman's soul leaves body

Jesus and co. are worried after another woman gets pregnant without having sex

bisexual looks at photos of celebrity couples

When you go to the party to socialize with new people but your weirdo friend group starts getting clingy

Jesus cumming

one of those weird church christmas pageants but everybody's drunk

What have I done

Hozier??????????

Jesus assfucks some purple lady being hugged.

This time, the chick IS the magnet

An affair/threesome gone awry (2019 colorized)

What do you mean they canceled GLOW?

“I TOLD you it was cashmere!”

Are you wearing the - - The Gucci dress? Yes I am.

It's not what it looks like!

jesus is fucking that one cheerleader who grew up to be a suburban mom with one (1) super cool dress she stole from her kid who is desperately hugging her middle begging for it back because the spring fling is coming up and jason might actually make eye contact with her for more than three seconds.

jesus and mary magdaline and some other bitch

I’m at a bar and these drunk girls are flirting with me, do I lOOK GAY?!

Shrek 5, jesus's return

c. 2025 First attempt of an Officer and his Wife with a Handmaiden (colourized)

just about all of these are close lol

originally taken from: the Bolshoi Theater’s 1993 staging of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s The Maid of Orléans, featuring Nina Rautio (left) as Joan of Arc and Vyacheslav Pochapsky (right) as Thibaut d’Arc

Responses:

Don’t look, I’m still pooping

yall, the audacity of this man. he fuckin talked to me

*i can't even tell you how wrong you are* *it would be insulting to ME*-- closest

Cospeto!

„No I’m not talking to you, you keep cracking bad jokes!“ - „But I got another!“

when you’re mad at him but he says he’ll buy you food if you cheer up

When I’m wallowing in self-pity but my friends won’t comfort me

right: wanna fuck ;) left: yeah, fuck OFF lmao

Her face is screaming “don’t tell me what to do”

Yeah I got nothing

gay man tries to hit on a lesbian bc he thinks she's a twink. she's not amused but she's watching this happen anyway

me tired of MET's bullshit and them organising a Netrebko, known blackface apologist, a recital during Black History Month. (sorry im still fucking salty lol)

"stop smiling at me like that I'm trying to pout over here"

"I got fleas, you got fleas... wanna fuck?"

I have the best idea!

Haha nooooo don’t hit me with that bat you’re so sexxyy

lesbian is bothered by dilf

Me trying to flirt

if call me by your name was hetero and set in america

how many more dad jokes can i take before i explode

So. You’ve gotten yourself in a little pickle again.

What if we fought in the Russian revolution together ✨???????... unless??

Two people flirt in a poor place of town/

"If you ask me what I've got under this dirty, shapeless tunic one more time I swear to god I will kick your rotting teeth in"

You look like ur gonna kill me but ok

Really? You again?

Okay, I’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes, do you think it’s safe to—oh god, he’s still there.

Have you seen Godot?

she is tired of everyone’s shit. she has done so many derivatives it physically pains her to see a variable. dont test her. ur icarus rn.

idk pick better pictures-- I HAVE DIED THE SHEER AUDACITY AND HUBRIS I LOVE THIS

200% done with your crap

Homeless man has fucking legs of steel n is gonna show off his Russian dance moves

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2019 staging of Paul Dukas’ Ariane et Barbe-bleue, featuring Sophie Koch (right) as Ariane and I don’t remember who the person on the left is rip me

Responses:

The knight who wore this into battle sure was swaggy

dear god its hiddeous

Capitalism

Knight in shining armour gone even more wrong.

ghost contemplates the safety of spiky motorcycle helmet

„Stop! He feels bullied!“

'this is my newest take for jesus's crucifixion crown ...... what do you mean they already put him up'

That’s probably a really expensive magic helmet idk. IDK-- closest

Omg I love the adventure zone!

minesweeper (windows xp)

"Okay whatever you do don't touch the shiny spiky ball" "It's so shiny I wanna touch it"

Taking down the trash way too late

IT'S NOT A PHASE MOM

Darth Vader got stuck in the freezer.... again. Leia isn’t happy

Star Wars 2030

“And here is the very latest in motorcycle helmet trends” “Look, I only came to the mall for a pair of socks “

futuristic kkk

long-suffering jewelry store attendant really wants to retire

Put it down put it down put it down

“Hmm no you should see a doctor about that”

A weird ass crown is presented

The creation of sars-cov-2: an experimental Eurotrance nightclub art piece gone horribly wrong

How it feels to want something that u cant have

AND WE WILL CALL IT—SPIKE MAN actually do you think that’s too obvious?? Because of the—yeah, because of the spikes?? See, that’s what I’m worried about. I want it to be SCARY

I know it's risky but... lube me up

use the force luke.

that is a weird fleshlight

When you get an ugly gift and need to find a way to get rid of it, so your family member/friend offers to smash it

Touch the orb

originally taken from: the Opera Vlaanderen’s 2019 staging of Fromental Halévy’s La Juive, with Nicole Chevalier (left, with bottle) as Princess Eudoxie, Enea Scala (center, under table) as Prince Léopold, and Roy Cornelius Smith (right) as Éléazar

Responses:

When no one comes to your birthday party :(

fantastic, day 487 of mischief and they have yet to find my masterful hiding spot

i really wonder who he thinks he's playing footsie with

Marriage crisis. Reason sits under the table-- closest but not in the way you think (after all, the man under the table IS a tenor).

the last supper afterparty after jesus left

When you order the last supper on wish

espionage at the Politischer Rosenmontag

Probably the wrong opera but is that Leporello under the table

Now THIS is a Good Friday night

this was every birthday party i went to between the ages of 5 and 11

that awkward moment when you drop your fork under the table but when you re-emerge everyone else has left except one drunk lady and the guy trying to deal with her

After the last supper

Tfw you arrive to the dinner party too early and have to hide until a more fashionable hour

When the cishets aren’t home

waiter hides from customers

Nobody: My dog every time I’m eating:

what's left of the homies Jesus had dinner with

university chem lab experiment gone terribly wrong

I’ve been under the table FOR 30 MINUTES

Set your friends up by tossing them off under the table, they’ll think it’s each other n fall in luv

Someone hids under a table

"You're about to see an surreptitious-under-the-table-dick-sucking master at work"

5 yr old me trying to eat the desert under the table without my parents finding out be like:

They never invite me to their parties!

Just another girl’s night in

Oops! Didn’t notice you the table.

dionysus - bts (2019, colorized)

just a normal episode of eric andre (eric is the one under the table)

Just a normal day with the boys

Thievery

originally taken from: the Théâtre de Capitole du Toulouse’s 2017 staging of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s Le prophète, featuring Kate Aldrich (left, surrounded by women in white) as Fidès and John Osborn (center, looking like a Jesus doppelganger) as Jean de Leyde

Responses:

Hold up, is that Eggman above Jesus?

holy disco

Looks like Tannhäuser. Our lord and saviour Richard Wagner. Now I need to be saved from that.

catholicism

me defending pineapple on pizza (THANK YOU)

jesus but hes about to be abducted by the alien ufo above him

Emmmmmmm Heaven? Idk

Lord of the rings?

ewww christianity gross

"behold, I am Important"

"Seriously?? It's not ACTUALLY pyjama day? Fuck you guys!"

Jesus at the Disco

Jesus Finds The Molerat People Who Live Under Bethlehem

disco is heaven

Want to join my new religion?

the kkk

church christmas pageant where everyone's sober but it's based on the director's fever dream

Am I the only one who sees the giant demon? Just me? Okay...

“Oh god I think I’m starting my period”

A party is held with a priest in the middle

"Let's get this secret Vatican sex party rolling!"

The new avengers endgame set is looking great!!

You know, guys, I try not to be a bother but...I can’t help but feel like I missed a dress code memo for this wedding??? It’s cocktail, right??”

Jesus visits Hogwarts

I must really stink if no one will even come close to me

the extra ass funeral i DESERVE

star wars life day

A cult at it’s best-- closest

Shrek 5, Jesus is still there I guess

originally taken from: the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden’s 2013 staging of Giuseppe Verdi’s Les vêpres siciliennes, featuring Bryan Hymel (left, standing) as Henri, Lianna Haroutounian (center, kneeling in the black gown) as Duchess Hélène, and Erwin Schrott (kneeling to her right) as Jean Procida

Responses:

When the director’s like “great rehearsal guys, just a few notes before I let you go” but it’s already 9:13 and your mom’s waiting in the parking lot

loyalist of subjects

bow before your queen

They forgot to take down the stage boxes after the Vienna opera ball but the show must go on.

somebody forgot to book chairs for this funeral

Me sharing God’s (Hayley koyoko) word on the discord server

mass execution bc the oboe solo sucked ass-- closest

That’s too many black suits I can’t see shit

I can’t even tell what’s going on here

8th grade school assembly about how it's uncool to shit on the walls at school

let's all get fancy so we can go to the opera and sit on the stage (idk this one's hard lol)

"Yes i am a time traveller, now don't freak out"

Tfw you forget to pay your lighting bills

White guys make decisions that will benefit them and screw someone that’s not a white guy over-- OUCH but that is too real (although not really in context here)

dead man gives speech at his own funeral

brotus and the boys ??? last meeting before the stabbing

high society social function ends in mass murder-- right opera, wrong scene

Someone walks into the talent show stage with a dog

Black-dressed bitches worship a man.

Worst school assembly of all time

POV:You're the window in the classroom and someone said "its snowing"

When the conductor shows up fashionably late to the orchestra concert

That's what you get for choosing the cheapest ticket option, get back in the mud where you belong

theyre just trying to jump into a grave at a funeral leabe them alone this is normal

oh my god he really whipped his dick out in front of everyone, this is just like in 1776 guys, except some women are actually in the room this time,

A funeral, stop wearing so much black

I want to slap their bald heads like rice

originally taken from: the Teatro Real Madrid’s 2018 staging of Gaetano Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, featuring Roberto Tagliavini (right) as Raimondo

Responses:

Crowd “haha!! Looks like someone missed the all-black memo!! Now it’s laugh-in-your-face time! / Guy on the floor (whispering to guy against wall): go, save yourself! I’ll hold them off...”

if i leave now i wont be a witness and can tell the police i had no idea

it was the best of times, it was the worst of times

Guy in the back pretends to help but is to far away to even know what’s going on.

priest walks in on beginning of an orgy, contemplated joining but is too scared-

when someone brings up capitalism but you’re just trying to play minecraft

lol lets trample this guy while the judge isnt looking

Again. Too many black costumes

Loved this Dostoevsky novel

i would know if opera directors were more creative with clothing choices ngl

me on parties lol

"imma just sneak out of here while everyone else is distracted"

"Where did he get this flooring!? Amazing!"

Everyone act normal!

The tell tale heart but they got REALLY drunk

man tposes to ward off vampires after being caught undercover

boys ???? night

the priest really shouldn't have visited the insane asylum-- closest

He’s FINE everyone’s been hit by a car before

Something happens in a room.

Perks of being a wallflower

There's always that one person in the fight whos trying not to get involved when they really wanna

Oh good, they’re all posing for a Rembrandt painting, I can just sneeeeaaak out the back here...

The gamer livestreaming Resident Evil + everyone watching the stream ? waiting for him to open the door just knowing it will trigger a chase scene

Quick!

the guy t posing in the back is regretting his every decision.-- also accurate

the us senate jumps ted cruz, some other wack ass gop senator is trying to sneak away

...I spoke too soon, however this is a James Bond mission

Queers help fellow queer do math but it's a struggle

#opera #opera tag #results #screencaps #captions #caption #caption this #caption contest #this seems to have gone over well and I am Pleased

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chasseurdeloup-retired · 3 years

Text

Something Seams Off || Irene and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Sew La Ti Do PARTIES: @threadofheart and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kaden goes to Irene to repair his jacket and they have a snicker-snacker of a time. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Kaden ran his hands along the leather jacket as he watched the signs of the stores along the street. He didn’t want to miss the repair shop. Clothing wasn’t usually precious to him. It couldn’t be, not as a hunter. Sure, he had to scrounge and save for new clothing back in the day, but any shirt or pants could get destroyed in the wrong monster fight. The best thing to do was usually patch it best as he could for as long as he could before tossing it aside for something else decent. But the leather jacket in his grip was different. This was a gift. Kaden had precious few gifts in his life that he held onto, at least not prior to coming to White Crest. Either way, if anything was worth taking care of, it was the jacket Blanche had given him. To the point he was careful not to wear it on hunts, at least not often. Sometimes it was hard to avoid. Still, he couldn't figure out where some of the holes in the piece were coming from. It didn’t make sense. Definitely beyond his skills to repair. Time to try a professional for once. He gulped before swinging the door open. He had to remember whatever the price, he was fine, he could afford it. Old habits were hard to break. “Hello?” he called out. “Uh, got a jacket that needs fixing. This is the place, right?”

After the online interaction with the owner of the leather shop, Irene was quick to research some tips on how to better mend leatherwork. Since it wasn’t her typical area of expertise, she wanted to improve on it in the event she had customers seeking that specific service. Scattered across her table were scrap pieces of leather she had practiced her stitching. Several of her poor needles already set aside and bent at odd angles. Just then, the jingle of the door chimes caused her to look up at the customer entering her shop. With a warm smile, she got up from her table and walked over to the counter. “Welcome, I’m Irene, and you’re in the right place. What sort of fixing does this jacket need?” she asked, her hands gently patting on the counter indicating for him to set down the piece. Upon brief examination, it certainly appeared to be well-worn, well-appreciated.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Kaden said, awkwardly and a little stilted as he walked towards the counter. He had no idea what the protocol was in this whole exchange, it wasn’t like he’d ever done it before. Thankfully she took the lead and indicated where to place the jacket so after giving her a slightly startled look, he did just that. Right. Made sense, she had to look at it after all. “Uh, there are some holes in it. Weird spots. I don’t think I made them.” Then again, he got so many injuries and brushed up against so many various fangs, claws, and pincers it was hard to keep track of the damage after a while. “Not that I-- I mean, I work in animal control. With the WCPD. Uh, Officer Langley.” Which probably didn't matter. Why the fuck was he introducing himself? And why was he nervous about a damn jacket repair? “You probably didn’t need to know that or care. Just, yeah. Weird holes. Does it… You think you can fix this? Not to-- I just don’t know what can and can’t be saved. Usually don’t try.”

Irene’s expert hands were quick to search typical areas where jackets typically formed holes. The seams didn’t seem to be split but with some of the holes, she likely would have to reline a couple of spots so that any fixing wouldn’t look like a patch job. Her eyes narrowed as she continued to study the jacket. “Overall, this looks like it’s in good condition, but the holes are… a little strange,” she noted aloud. “Like you said, definitely in some strange places. If this were a weather or cotton piece, I’d say maybe moths or something, but I’m a bit at a loss as to the cause.” Straightening up, she let out a small sigh and another smile. After all, her job wasn’t to determine what caused this but rather how she would fix it. “Well, Officer Langley, this probably will take me about a week. I think I have similar thread and fabric to fix this up, though once I’m done, it’ll look brand new.” It was clear this jacket meant a lot to him; the stress emanating from him was hitting Irene like a wall of bricks, so she hoped her words could offer some relief. “And I could offer you a rough estimate as well if you’re interested.”

Kaden rubbed the back of his neck as he watched the woman work through what was going on with his jacket. Putain, he wasn’t normally this nervous about simple human interactions. Something about it being new, unknown, it left him unsure. “Yeah I didn’t think moths would go for leather, but a brow--” Merde. He caught himself before he started talking about fae and monsters. Barely. “I mean, yeah probably not moths.” He felt his stupid heart pounding in his chest over a stupid conversation with a seamstress. The fuck was wrong with him? Maybe he shouldn’t quit hunting. He clearly couldn’t handle normalcy. “A week? Is that-- I mean, sounds good. I’m not sure how long this would normally take. I’ve never had anything repaired before. I normally just throw away things once they get damaged but I guess if I did that you wouldn’t have any business so anyway this is, uh, new. For me.” He was certain she could tell without him saying shit. Her next assurance had him even more wide eyed. Shit, was he really that obvious? He didn’t think he looked poor. He didn’t right? Fuck, maybe he did. “A rough estimate? Oh. Yeah. That’d be good. To know. If you--” His brow furrowed as he cut his sentence short once more. This time it wasn’t just him not knowing how to speak like a normal person. Something was moving. His brows knit together as he looked closer at the jacket. “You’re not…” His eyes darted back up to her. Her hands were in fact not underneath the jacket. And yet it was wiggling. “That’s not you moving it, is it?”

Irene could feel the intensity of his emotions grow despite her telling him that the jacket could be fixed. Was something else worrying him? In the past, she had worked with clients who held incredible sentimental value to their clothing articles. Perhaps this was one of those instances. With a warm smile, she looked across the counter at the man. “This jacket must mean a lot to you if you’re bringing this in for extra care. I assure you that your jacket is in great hands with me, officer. You’re doing great,” she added lightly with a small chuckle. Grabbing a notepad and a pen, she scribbled a few quick notes about the current condition of the leather jacket and the exact fixes the officer was requesting. That helped her approximate the cost. Just as she was about to write out an estimate, his question caught her by surprise. “Hm? N-no, what do you mean?” she asked, her eyes instantly darting to the jacket to see brief movement. Shoot, did her shop have mice or rodents? “Oh goodness!” Without thinking, she lifted the jacket up, expecting to find some sort of critter there only to spot something… not quite exactly that or anything she had seen before. “What--” she jumped back in surprise, her eyes wide after she immediately dropped the jacket back down.

Kaden nodded a little along with her words. “I mean, sure it, uh, I like it and all. But it’s not that important.” Putain, why did he say that? What if that meant she was less careful with it now that she thought he didn’t care? “Not that-- I mean. Yes. Thank you.” Fuck, what if she was fae? And he just thanked her. And why did she have to reassure him that he was doing fine with a basic social interaction. Sadly, his ineptitude wasn’t the biggest disaster in the room. When she moved the jacket, out hopped a small rodent looking creature. Only it wasn’t a mouse or rat, no no. That was a snicker-snacker. No missing it. “Putain,” he grumbled to himself. “No wonder there were holes.” Out of instinct, Kaden reached for his knife in his back pocket, but his hand hovered and hesitated. Just long enough for the supernatural rodent to scutter off. Shit. But he couldn’t just stab the snicker-snacker right in front of her in her shop. He wasn’t the most experienced with social norms, but he was pretty fucking sure destroying shops with knives was frowned upon. He twisted and turned looking to see if he could find the creature. “Must have been in the jacket. Not sure how I missed that.” Had to have crawled in one night when he was hunting. At least he hoped that was the case. If he had an infestation in his apartment, well, he didn’t want to think about the destruction waiting for him at home. “Did you see where it-- there!” he shouted as he leapt towards a corner of the store, diving onto the floor, trying to clasp the rodent with his bare hands. It skittered just out of reach, running to the other side. Shit. He had to get it or else it could be bad news for her shop. It had definitely gone to the left. Only, when he glanced to the right, he saw it there, too. No, not the original one. There were two. “Uh. Think you’ve got a problem here,” he told her, trying to pick himself up off the floor.

If the rodent-looking creature scared Irene, the man pulling out a knife immediately caused the seamstress to shriek out of surprise and fear. But her attention was quickly drawn back to the thing that jumped off her counter and was not running around her shop. With wide eyes, she pulled her gaze back to the man as she tried to process just what had happened. Irene wasn’t normally one for any sort of judgment, but yes, how had this man conveniently not realize that something like that was burrowing his jacket? Before she could even respond, Irene toward the floor as the creature skittered across her feet to the man’s left. Another yelp escaped her lips as she jumped back in surprise. It was one thing for rodents to be scampering around, but she will not have them messing up her shop. Trying to think quickly, Irene grabbed a broom from the corner and glanced to the right and saw… another one. Confusion etched across her face. “Oh no…” she muttered quietly as she slowly raised her broom. Was this her weapon now or a poor decision of a shield? Who knew. “What are those?” she asked in a soft voice, hoping not to startle these creatures with any sudden noise.

This was a problem. One snicker-snacker was bad news. Two were exponentially worse. And for all they knew, there were more than even that. Kaden started to listen and look for any more signs of them, trying to keep his steps quiet as he ducked down to look at any and every corner. “Snicker--” He paused before finishing his answer. Saying “snicker-snackers” was going to make him sound like he was out of his mind, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t exactly keeping the supernatural a secret at that point either. Putain. “Uh, rodents. Mutated mice. I think.” That worked, right? “They’ll eat through just about anything so be careful.” This whole shop would be in bad shape if an infestation broke out. All the clothes and fabric would never last. He glanced over to see how she was holding up. Broom wasn’t a bad idea on her part. Shit, if only he had his work kit. No nets or cages on him now, unfortunately. “Got anything to trap them with? A basket. A bowl. Anything?” He saw a jar full of pins. This was a terrible idea. “Putain,” he grumbled to himself as he dumped the pins as carefully as he could manage onto the table he picked the jar up off of. “Sorry about that. I, uh, I mean looks like it’ll work.” He caught a blur of motion out of the corner of his eyes and leapt towards it, jar in hand. “Sweep it towards me! Corner it”

Irene watched the man move around expertly ready to attack. She clutched the broom tighter against her chest as her heart pounded loudly in her ears. “Snicker? Like--what, like the candy?” she asked incredulously. Her brow knitted tightly as she tried to keep an eye on even just one of these creatures. “Mutated mice. Wonderful. Thank you evolution,” she muttered under her breath as she took slow, quiet steps through her shop. Rodents weren’t something she was scared of; hell, she’d seen her fair share of very brave rats in New York. This? This should be a piece of cake, though she had no idea what sort of advantages these mutations gave these rodents. Her eyes quickly scanned the room in response to his request. “Uh… how’s this? Wait!” she called out, unable to find a suitable container before the pins were spilled out. Great. But she had little time to process that before she also caught sight of a dashing blur past her. Instinctively, she swept broadly with the broom, the bristles making contact with something, and a loud squeak seemed to indicate she must have caught the rodent. “Coming your way!” she called out as she made one swift broom push toward the man. “Well, that has to be one, right? Is that it?”

“Uh, sort of,” Kaden started. With how often he ran into the supernatural in this town, it was hard to remember how few of the residents actually were in the know. Code said to keep shit secret, he needed to try a little harder. As he dove, he slammed the lar over top of where he’d seen the blur. Only to catch something just to the left of him. Shit. He reached out with the jar again as she swept the lump towards him, capturing the creature underneath. “Got it!” he shouted, keeping both hands on top of the small jar, just in case. There was a sound of something splitting behind him. Putain. He kept one hand on the jar as he twisted to try and look behind him. A table leg had snapped in two and he was certain if they didn’t hurry, there might be less than three legs there. “Shit, shit, shit.” He was making a real fucking great impression here. He had to let go of the jar to get over to the other one. “Uh, do you have a book? Or a weight? Or something? And one more--” He paused. “Maybe two more jars. Just in case.”

Irene's stress levels increased, both from wanting these creatures out of her shop and from the fact that this whole instance was creating a giant mess of her shop. Had these things always been around this entire time? A hazard of her work she never considered before? As the man dove down, Irene held her breath until she saw that he had managed to catch something. “B-book? Um, goodness, I have uh I have a couple of binders of fabric swatches,” she said, frantically reaching for these from the desk in the back. And jars. Her eyes looked for a few more of those, all filled with things like thread scraps or buttons. The priorities now though was definitely in capturing these creatures, so she poured the contents out into an empty box and quickly returned to the man. And then she saw the cracked leg on her table. Oh goodness why was this happening. “I hate to bombard a customer with orders, but please get these things out of here before the rest of my shop is destroyed,” she pleaded.

This was not the first impression Kaden had planned to make. Granted, he didn’t start off on the best foot so guess he didn’t have much to lose. He’d shifted and let his foot rest on the jar while she went to grab more supplies to trap the creatures, untrusting of what would happen if he left it unweighted. He didn’t want to find out if the snicker-snacker could topple over the glass. At least it couldn’t eat it. Well, it shouldn’t at least. It wasn’t exactly wood or fiber. He looked down. Floors should be safe, too. Right, better get them out quickly. “Thanks,” he said, taking the book and the jars from her. He dumped the book on top of the makeshift snicker-snacker trap and hoped like hell it was enough to keep it there. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the little pest run up and back towards his jacket. “Oh no you don’t,” he said, diving towards it and yanking it away off the counter. The mutant mouse went spinning and flying in the air as the rug was pulled out from under it, but landed on its feet and scurried off. Merde. He’d have to be more careful.

Jars in hand and ready to pounce, Kaden tried to move quietly around to the back of the counter to see if it had landed back there. A flash of fur and horns darted out, squealing towards the table with three legs. “Not today, you little bastard,” Kaden said as he threw himself at the table, crashing into it, causing all sorts of odds and ends to go flying and clattering to the floor as he wrestled to get the jar on top of the creature. All he got was a spool of thread. Good thing she’d handed him two jars. He reached out with his left hand and slammed the glass down, praying he didn’t break it with his hunter strength and heard a squeal as the tail wriggled out from underneath the lip. If it were a mouse or a rat, he might feel a ping of remorse. But a snicker-snacker? He dug the jar down to the floor a little harder before the tail snaked its way back under the container with another squeal. “Got it,” he said, breathing heavily as he pushed himself off the floor.

Irene watched with astonishment as the man moved so expertly. Her eyes darted back and forth between the now-occupied jar and the precarious situation of her table. “Sure…” was all she managed to respond. With her hands now empty and the man chasing after the other “mutant rodents,” Irene’s attention honed onto the jar. She could hear the skittering of the creature, sounds of tiny claws scraping against the glass in an attempt to escape. Leaning down onto her hands and knees, Irene took a peek at the rodent inside, this snicker thing, and let out a small gasp. It looked like a mouse or a hamster but with horns. What the heck was in the White Crest water that mutated the rodents into something like this? Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sudden slam from the man, the sound of another jar crashing onto the ground and securing another creature in its confines. “O-okay, what do we do now? I mean, are we supposed to let these go out in the wild? Is there animal control for something like this?” And how dangerous were these things? So many questions ran through her head. Then her face paled lightly at the next thought. Did these need to be exterminated? Despite the trouble they brought, the idea soured her stomach.

Kaden brushed off his pants and arms after standing and taking a look at the chaos around the room. Putain. Not how he intended this to go. Couldn’t even have a simple interaction in a store in this goddamn town. “Lucky for you, I am animal control. Obviously not on duty right this second. Or else, you know, I’d be prepared.” He sighed and pushed his hair back into place. “They’re pretty destructive, as you can see,” he said, gesturing to the poor table. Shit. “Uh, I can, pay for that, by the way. I sorta brought them here.” No clue how he was affording that but tables couldn’t cost that much, right? Shit. “Reproduce exceptionally fast, too.” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. This was the worst part. People already had bad takes on animal control half the time. He’d been called an animal killer too many times for his liking. And it’s not like he could tell her these were clearly monsters and out himself. No one liked to hear about dead animals and he couldn’t blame them. But these weren’t sweet little mice, these were pests. Abominations. Capable of destroying full houses if left to their own devices. “For now, I’ll take them out of here. They’re definitely not adoptable, though. I’ll do a relocation out in the woods, though.” He hoped she would buy it. There was no way he was going to chance a snicker-snacker infestation in town.

It was the sudden calmness that stressed Irene out even more. Was this it? Were all of them caught in her jars? “You? You’re animal control?” Had he said that earlier before all of this happened? She couldn’t recall. A hand ran through her hair, the other hand almost resting against her damaged table before she spotted the broken leg. She quickly pulled back and sighed. At least that table was a hand-me-down from the previous tenant of the shop, and Irene had been hoping to upgrade to a more customized work surface. “Um, yea, th-thanks, I think,” she said mindlessly, unable to fully assess the severity of these creatures. “Like rabbits. Or rats. And I thought New York rats were damaging,” she muttered to herself. How did those things even scurry onto him and into her shop? “Right, your jacket though. If uh if you still wanted that mended, I can still take that on but I might need more time now because…” her voice trailed as she gestured to her mess of a space.

“Officer Langley, yeah. That’s me. Animal control.” Kaden almost felt like he should apologize for that fact. Almost. He did catch them, after all. “But yeah, like rabbits or rats. Only they’ll eat through your table legs. Uh, anyway, if you don’t mind, I’ll go get something more appropriate to transport them and come back.” He’d make sure to bring a knife with him, too. Maybe a few extra cages in case more of them showed up in the interim. He was about to turn and walk out when his eyes shot back to the jacket, brows raised. Right. He almost forgot. “Oh, yeah. If you can. No rush. At all. Um, thanks, and,” he paused to look around the room, “sorry. I’ll be back soon.”

#writing #wickedswriting #chatzy #threadofheart #irene #something seams off

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viking-raider · 4 years

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A Soldier’s Daughter - Chapter III

Summary: Skye and Geralt make it to Kaer Morhen and start settling in for the winter there. Geralt starts feeling something he’s desperately trying not too.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/OFC

Word Count: 7,255

Previous Chapters: I II

Rating: PG-13 - Witcher!AU, Language, Slow Burn, Jealousy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Inspiration: The Witcher on Netflix, with instances of the Games and Books.

Author’s Note: Tell me what you think! Thank you to the marvelous @wondersofdreaming for the encouragement and beta!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans, @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @the-freak-cassie-131, @wardl0w, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @kaatelyyynn, @badassbaker, @mrsaugustwalker, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @bellastellaluna, @wondersofdreaming, @thisisntmyrightera, @michelle-1185, @winchwm, @royallylazy, @sofiebstar, @worldicreate, @bellastellaluna, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @witches-of-discovery-a, @xuxszx, @ayamenimthiriel, @keiva1000, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @itsreigns, @constip8merm8, @scorpionchild81, @mylifefallingupthestairs, @onlyhenrys, @luclittlepond, @ellixthea, @lebguardians, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn, @p3nny4urth0ught5, @iloveyouyen, @hollydaisy23, @mcuimagination, @psychosupernatural, @sweetlybigdragonn, @whitewolfandthefox, @moviemonzy, @the-soot-sprite, @hell1129-blog, @trippedmetaldetector, @captaingothgirl1996, @dont8mind8me8eue, @peaky-marvel, @desperate-and-broken21, @monstersnmoney, @dancingwendigo, @redhot-mystacism, @thereisa8ella, @black-ninja-blade, @oddduckthatgirl, @rosewinx, @henrythickcavill, @tinabean37, @hnryycvll, @msblkfire84, @romangenesius, @emelinelovesjc, @strangerliaa, @lovieebby, @pinksdaydream, @fanfictionaddiction99, @seb-owns-these-tatas, @oh-for-fic-sake, @sauvage-et-libre, @mis-lil-red, @angreav, @crazyandanonymous4u, @the-mighty-jellybean @henrycavell, @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair, @iam-laiya, @worshipping-skarsgard, @thetruthandotherstories, @ruthoakenshield, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss, @theonetheycallhannah, @nina-skyee, @thatgirly81, @inanna999, @suueeeeeee, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8, @beckster07890, @daddys-littlewhitegirl, @magic-and-the-macabre, @stxphmxlls, @radaofrivia, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss, @starstruckkittyangel, @heartfelt-pen, @stuckupstucky, @dummiesshort, @la-cey, @singeramg

Kaer Morhen, also known as the School of the Wolf, had been the home and stronghold for Witchers throughout the countless centuries. It was huge and bleak, its back butted up against the massive mountain ranges that composed the Blue Mountains of Kaedwen.

Several of its towers and walls were in sad disrepair, crumbling and toppled over through the years and years of neglect and inefficient means to repair them. As straight forward the path looked on the way up the mountain towards Kaer Morhen, it wasn't at all what it seemed to the inexperienced eye, or even an experienced one; many Witchers over the years had found themselves lost on the trail, after being away from school for so long, they had forgotten where to look. Anyone seeking entry into Kaer Morhen, and didn't know where to go, would only end up going in circles around the stronghold, and before they even finished the first go around, the Witchers inside would know of their presence.

Geralt and Skye walked along the mountain path towards the stronghold, the snow almost to her knees, the forest around them shushed in the thick blanket of the white powder, a sparse flurry of thick flakes stirred around them in the blowing breeze. The atmosphere around them was so peaceful and calming, the crisp air filling their lungs and making their cheeks rosy in color. Geralt paused for a moment, fumbling for something in Roach's bag, when something smacked him in the back, and he turned around to Skye, who looked behind her, then frowned back at Geralt.

“What?” She lifted a brow at him.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you just throw snow at me?” He asked, suspicious.

“I don't even know what that is.” She countered, frowning at him harder, but her green eyes danced with guilt. “Roach must have done it.”

“While facing me?”

“You're the Witcher, I'm sure you've seen crazier.” Skye grinned at him.

“Hm.” Geralt hummed, shaking his head at her and going back into Roach's bag. “Come along, snow thrower.” He called to her over his shoulder, moving off the path and vanishing into a thicket of trees.

Skye frowned and blinked, then moved after him, following the foot and hoof prints in the once virgin blanket of snow. “Why are we off the path?” She called after him, trying her best to catch up with him through the deep snow.

“Won't we get lost?”

“No, I know where I'm going.” Geralt replied over his shoulder, then paused, letting her catch up. “Here.” He stilled Roach, holding her reins tight and pulled himself into the mare's saddle. “We'll be going uphill the rest of the way and the snow is only going to get deeper. It'll be easier and less of a chore, if we ride Roach.” He explained to her, reaching down to her.

Skye hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, allowing him to boost her up into Roach's saddle behind him; she gulped as she settled behind him, thighs gripping Roach's sides. They had never been in such close and tight proximity, they rarely even touched, unless absolutely required, and even then it was only for a split moment, before breaking apart again. Skye was instantly surrounded by the intense heat of Geralt's body, which nearly matched Roach's, she felt the icicles that had frozen inside of her over the last two and a half days start to drip as they thawed between Roach and Geralt's body heat. It was by pure instinct, that she loosely wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chest against his board back, slipping a bit closer to him as Roach started forward.

Geralt's body was stiff as they rode towards Kaer Morhen, the solid and light weight of her body pressed against his caused the twinge that had been planted in the pit of his stomach, like a seed in the ground, to start germinate and threatened to send its thin and fragile roots even deeper into the Witcher's body, taking a hold of him, permanently. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his body and mind to kill it, before it could properly grow and turn into something he simply could not allow to happen, not again.

He couldn't take it again.

As Kaer Morhen finally came into full view, Skye pushed herself up in Roach's saddle to see over Geralt's shoulder to check it out. It was huge, hulking, run down and gloomy, she felt her mood almost plummet, seeing the new home she would be spending the next three month in with Geralt and Vesemir. Her family farm wasn't much, but at least it was a sight better than this place was. She sighed and sat back again, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against Geralt's back, feeling his leather armor underneath his thick black cloak. He sighed softly, knowing she still wasn't happy about all that was going on, the situation seeming more dire than it really was, but they were both learning to tolerate it.

The rusted portcullis of Kaer Morhen's front gate was closed as Skye and Geralt approached on Roach, at last. But, a few feet from it, a groan sounded through the air, both echoing in the vast mountain range and hushed by the thick blanket of snow that surrounded it, an eerie phenomenon, that gave Skye a shiver. The rusted, iron gate started to draw upwards, complaining the whole way up, but Geralt didn't seem alarmed that the gate just suddenly opened, with no one seemingly controlling it.

They proceeded through the stronghold, Skye glancing around at the ruined structures, the wild and overgrown brushes and grass. It felt supernatural and uncanny, like they'd entered some strange and ancient graveyard. Skye felt like she could almost sense and see the residual energy of the Witchers bygone, like they haunted the grounds they had spent so much of their time on, being twisted into advanced humans with vile sorcery. They came to the main building of the stronghold and found a tall man, long gray hair reaching his shoulders and pulled back in a very similar style to Geralt's, with an equally gray, horseshoe mustache and honey-gold eyes.

Skye knew immediately that it was Vesemir, who else could it be?

“Geralt.” Vesemir called out in a deep and raspy voice.

“Vesemir!” Geralt called back with a nod of his head.

“You're late.” The older Witcher pointed out, lifting a gray brow at him. “I didn't think you were coming this winter.” He stated, head tilting as he caught a glimpse of Skye, nearly hidden behind Geralt's wide body.

“Well, I ran into a couple of challenges.” He replied, looking over his shoulder to Skye, who looked terrified, and gave her thigh a gentle pat, before dismounting Roach and helping her down. “Are Lambert or Eskel here?” He asked, tiptoeing around the subject of Skye's presence for a moment.

“Eskel arrived a week ago, he believes Lambert will arrive at some point.” Vesemir replied, cocking his head at Skye. “Who is this?” He asked, turning his head to Geralt, a stern glint in his eyes.

“She's my Law of Surprise.” Geralt explained, glancing between Skye and Vesemir, like he was waiting for a bomb to go off.

Vesemir's eyes narrowed, expression hard, then sighed. “You must be cold, how about some tea?” He inquired, looking at her for a moment, before turning on his heels and going back inside.

“Was that..” Skye turned her head between the door Vesemir went through and Geralt. “Was that a good thing?”

“He didn't throw us out.” Geralt replied, brows lifted and a faint smile, then followed after his old mentor.

Glancing around and clearing her throat, Skye ran after Geralt, following him inside the all stone and drafty keep. Sticking close to Geralt, they walked down a long hallway into a huge and vaulted room, a fire roaring in a massive fireplace, Vesemir standing near it. Geralt motioned Skye to a table and he approached the other Witcher.

“How did you get yourself tied up with a Child of Surprise?” Vesemir asked, staring into the flames. “A female one at that.”

“I saved her father's life, after he was attacked by several drowned dead.” Geralt replied, flexing his frozen fingers in front of the fire. “He was a soldier for Temeria, on his way home for the first time in ages. He didn't know anything about the girl, when we arrived at his farm.”

“But, there she was.”

“So, you brought her here.”

“What was I supposed to do with her?” Geralt snapped, scowling. “Abandon her? Come here and have you scold my ears off about not taking any payment for doing a job.” He argued, shaking his head. “She can be a pain in the ass.”

“And so can you.” Vesemir pointed out, giving Geralt a knowing and stern expression.

Vesemir had known Geralt since he was seven years old, nearly eight decades. He knew all about the Witcher's antics, from killing monsters to Geralt and Eskel causing all sorts of mischief around Kaer Morhen, along with Lambert. The White Wolf had two very different sides, depending on the company he was keeping at the time. In the freedom of Kaer Morhen, Geralt was more himself, than he was anywhere else in the world, but looking him over, Vesemir could see another change coming over Geralt, a change he could just put his finger on and could see Geralt was struggling to keep down and at bay. He looked over at Skye, sipping the tea he had set on the table for her and studied her, while she was unaware of his gaze, she reminded him a bit like Geralt, when he first came and before the trails effectively changed him into what he was now.

“Payment is payment.” He finally agreed. “Is she staying the full winter?”

“Where I go, she goes.” Geralt told him, bluntly.

“Fair enough.” Vesemir chuckled at him.

“Well, hello there!” A deep and raspy voice echoed, catching everyone's attention. “Who are you?”

“Eskel!” Geralt grinned at his fellow Witcher, who was a brother to him.

“Well, shave my goat!” Eskel let out a barking laugh, striding over to Geralt and grabbing him into a bear-hug. “It's good to see you, Geralt! How've you been?”

“I've been well, and you?” Geralt replied, returning the bear-hug.

“Getting older, but not any older than you look.” Eskel roared, his head thrown back.

Geralt had a huge grin on his face, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at Eskel, his body vibrating with an amused laugh. Skye stared at the three Witchers standing together by the fireplace, a smile on all of their faces, a real and fond smile at that, as they caught up with one another, trading jokes, friendly jabs and amusing stories from being on the road the last several months. She was surprised by the change that over took Geralt as he relaxed, the months of dealing with people calling him names, chasing after him and every other unfriendly thing they could throw at him, melted away, like an icicle in spring. A smile came to his face easier, his strong and thick body relaxed and his amber-gold eyes bright and alive. Skye hadn't realized she was smiling back, until Vesemir's eye caught hers and he smirked back at her, making her hide her smile and blush around the lip of her tea cup.

“So, who is she?” Eskel asked, tipping his head towards Skye, without looking at her.

“She's Geralt's Law of Surprise.” Vesemir replied, his eyes moving back to the other Witchers.

Eskel laughed and shook his head. “Geralt of Rivia, with a Child of Surprise.” He took unending amusement from this development. “Did you learn nothing after my business with Deidre?” He asked, smirking at him.

“Skye isn't Deidre.” Geralt growled, offended, and uttered her name for the first time since they met, then glanced at her. “She's different.” He said softly, comfortable in expressing himself to his two old friends.

“She's Human, that's why.” Eskel pointed out, glancing at Skye too. “Deidre was cursed.”

“Well, why don't you show her to a room, Geralt. So, she can settle in.” Vesemir suggested to him. “It'll help her transition smoother, if she feels she has a private space of her own.”

“Especially when she's surrounded by three, maybe four, male Witchers, who's best knowledge of women are whores and witches.” Eskel snorted to himself. “But, she seems sweet enough.”

“She has her moments.” Geralt rasped, feeling a root in the pit of his stomach wiggle deeper into his gut.

“Off you go, then. I'm sure you both want to settle in.” Vesemir said, nudging Geralt a little bit.

“Right.” He nodded and moved towards Skye. “Come on, I'll show you up to a room you can stay in, while we're here.” He told her, watching her finish her tea and stand up.

Geralt guided Skye through the massive and winding halls of the Keep, up several sets of spiral staircases, until he walked down a long hallway and pulled open one of the many doors. Skye stepped inside the room, finding it was as dark and gloomy as the rest of Kaer Morhen. Pure dark stone, a slit of a window, a small fireplace in the corner, crude table, with a single candle stick, and chair opposite of it, a simple dresser and a double, poster bed; there were throw furs on the floor and the bed. The room was cold, after so long in disuse, so Geralt, out of habit, built a fire in the grate to warm the room up for her.

“I'll be just down the hall, if you need anything.” He told her, once the fire was going.

“Okay.” She nodded at him, biting her lip and standing in the middle of the room.

It felt odd, for both of them, that they wouldn't be sharing a room together or be a few feet from each other as they had been, while camping out. They stood there in an awkward silence for a few minutes, before Geralt excused himself and left the room, going down the hall to the room he regularly occupied while he was at Kaer Morhen, it had been his room since his mother abandoned him at the School, all those years before.

A little while later, there was a soft knock on Skye's door and when she opened it, she found Geralt standing there with a wooden bowl of something steamy and a mug of something else.

“I brought you some dinner.” He said, lifting them a little bit higher.

Skye swore, if she leaned in just right and squinted hard enough, there would be a smile on Geralt's face.

“Thank you.” She said softy, carefully taking the bowl and mug from him, turning them back into her room to set them down on the table, then took the spoon Geralt held out to her.

“It's not much, just some venison stew.” Geralt explained to her, biting the inside of his cheek. “Eskel killed one this morning and so he decided to stew it.” He continued, licking his lips. “He's a really good cook.” He babbled, finding himself incapable of stopping.

“I'm sure that he is.” Skye replied, smirking at Geralt, seeing the confused fluster in his eyes.

“Do-” Geralt cleared his throat. “Do you need anything?” He asked, glancing around the room.

Skye had unpacked after Geralt brought her things up from Roach's saddlebags, her bed was neatly made, she kept the fire in the grate he started going, so the room was nice and toasty. It did have a slight homey feel to it that Geralt liked a lot.

“I don't think so.” She answered, biting her lip and glancing around, everything seemed to be in the place she wanted it to be.

“If you need anything, you know where to find me. Good night.” Geralt mumbled, moving back to the door. “Skye.” He whispered, just loud enough for her to hear him.

Her mouth dropped open as the door closed behind him, surprised to hear him utter her name. “Good night,...Geralt.” She whispered back, slowly sitting down to eat her dinner.

The next morning, Skye tip-toed around the Keep and checked Kaer Morhen out, getting familiar with the layout of where everything was at; all she needed was to get hopelessly lost. Most of the rooms were empty, used as storage, or locked all together. There was zero interest in going outside, a large blizzard had blown in during the night, dumping tons of fresh snow over the grounds.

“Hello, Skye.” A voice echoed into the hall, drawing her towards an open door.

Peeking inside the strange room, Skye saw Vesemir standing in the middle of the room, a sword in his hand. “Vesemir.” She replied, greeting him politely. “Good morning.”

“To you as well.” He smiled, leaning on his sword. “Wandering around, I suppose.”

“Not much else to do.” She chuckled, stepping closer to him.

“True enough.” He laughed, nodding his head and glanced around the room. “I spent most of my time here.”

“Doing what?” She inquired, tilting her head at him.

Vesemir pressed his lips together, his gray brows drawing down over his eyes as he regarded her. “I used to be the combat trainer for the up and coming Witchers of Kaer Morhen. This is one of the rooms I trained them in.” He explained to her, motioning to the walls of different weapons and the nicked and scarred training dummies pushed into one corner.

“So, you spend hours in here, wielding various weapons, beating on whatever and whoever.” Skye summed up, getting his point.

“Have you ever wielded a sword or weapon?” Vesemir asked, sizing her up.

“I know how to use a scythe, when my mother and I had to bring in the harvest at my family farm.” Skye replied, pressing her lips together. “If that counts for anything.”

“Well, you can kill someone with one of them. So, I'll give you points for that.” He chuckled, smiling at her. “Here,” Vesemir turned, walking up to one of the walls of weapons and took down a short sword, bringing it back to her.

“Try this.” He held it out to her, handle first.

Skye hesitated for a moment, but after an encouraging nod from him, she wrapped her hand around the hilt of the sword. It was heavy in her hand, but not too heavy that she couldn't hold it up and wield it with two hands. She looked at Vesemir and lifted a brow at him, waiting for what was next, and blinked, startled, when he raised his own sword.

“Are we going to fight?” She asked, worried.

“Yes.” He nodded, smirking at her. “I'll be gentle with you.” He promised, gold eyes dancing with amusement. “Hold your sword like this.” He instructed her, showing her how to properly hold it.

“Good, very good.” He praised her, nodding his head.

Vesemir gave Skye play by play instructions, moving back and forward with her, their blades barely touching, as he taught her how to block certain blows, to protect her weak points and push him back. He was surprised to find she seemed very natural with a blade, she was an impressively quick learner as well. It also felt good to have someone other than Geralt, Eskel and Lambert to square off with, though Vesemir was considerably more mindful and held back with Skye, knowing he could easily overtake and harm her, if he wasn't careful.

“That was fun.” Skye smiled, wiping the sweat off her brow with the sleeve of her shirt.

“You're a quick learner.” Vesemir complimenting her and nodding his head, impressed. “You'll overtake this poor old man in no time.” He joked, laughing, and dropped down onto a bench against the wall.

“Not a chance.” She laughed back, sitting beside him. “What was Geralt like, when he started training?” She asked, curiously.

Vesemir sighed and rubbed the side of his wrinkled face. “A handful.” He huffed, smiling. “He liked to get into a lot of mischief, him and Eskel, for that matter. They're close in age, and Eskel arrived only a few months before Geralt did, so they bonded that way.” He said, his eyes losing a bit of their focus as he recounted it.

“One of his first lessons, he nearly lopped all his toes off, dropping his sword after I disarmed him.”

Skye laughed out loud, the sound echoing in the stone room. “I can only imagine the anger he must have felt.”

“Actually,” Vesemir frowned, bushy brows knitting together. “It was quite the opposite. He broke out into tears.”

“Geralt?” She frowned back at him, it was hard to picture Geralt crying, for any reason.

“The same.” He nodded at her, meeting her eyes. “It's hard to tell, with the guard and walls, he's put up over the decades. He's had to put them up. But, Geralt is a good man, with an even better heart. If anyone is so lucky to see and touch it.” He told her, softly, with a tone that Skye felt in her own heart.

The vision Skye had of Geralt, formed when they first met and from what her mother had told her about what he had done in Blaviken, slowly started to shift, as Skye got to know Geralt more, as she encountered people that knew the Witcher almost better than Geralt knew himself.

The illusion of the Butcher of Blaviken, was just that, an illusion, that melted away after he told her about what had actually happened. How he had tried his best to stay out of it. But, pressing factors forced his hand, forcing him to make a choice to kill someone that wasn't all that different from himself, seen as a monster and a black spot on the Continent, someone that Geralt had grown to love. It showed Skye that he wasn't entirely the emotionless creature Witchers were made out to be. He showed her that, when he had gone out of his way to give her a birthday present, simply because he knew that's what people did for someone's birthday, because he had been affected by her sadness and wanted to give her something that would cheer her up; unconscionably touching the bracelet on her wrist.

She was starting to realize, as she walked the halls of Kaer Morhen and spoke to Vesemir, that Geralt also understood what it was like to be ripped away from family, to be forced into a situation with strange people, you didn't want to be with, but had no voice in the matter to change it. Geralt wasn't a Butcher, or a monster, or even a mutant, he was a man, changed by the force of others and circumstance. Kaer Morhen had taught him how to be physically strong and how to survive against monsters, then thrust him out into the world, with no safety net, when the human monsters attacked his emotions and tore down his thoughts. Geralt had to teach himself how to build those walls, how to survive those attacks, that his armor and potions couldn't. The result was a man everyone saw as an abomination, so hardened by the years of abuse, it was all he'd ever let anyone see.

Unless, as Vesemir put it, someone was so lucky to see and touch it.

“What are you two doing in here?” Eskel's voice rasped as he appeared in the doorway.

“I was teaching the girl how to wield a sword.” Vesemir replied, looking up at the young Witcher.

Eskel let out a barking laugh. “Do you still have all your fingers and toes?” He asked Skye with a smirk.

“Last I checked.” Skye replied, smirking back at him.

“I like you.” Eskel chuckled, nodding his head at her.

Pretty soon, Skye picked up a routine in Kaer Morhen.

She would get up just after sunrise in the mornings and go down to the kitchens and whip up some breakfast for herself and the three Witchers. She had made them breakfast on her third day there and the boys, namely Eskel, raved about it for the rest of the day. So, she picked up the chore of making them breakfast and dinner, letting them fend for themselves when it came to lunch. After that, she would go up to the training room with Vesemir to do some swordplay and instructions. Where she was getting increasingly better at wielding the weapon, finding her own style, blows and blocks becoming more and more like second nature, and moving quicker, managing to best Vesemir once in a while.

It was one afternoon about a month after she and Geralt arrived, and after her session with Vesemir, that Eskel appeared in the training room and asked Skye, if she would like to take a walk with him around the grounds of Kaer Morhen, seeing that a decent amount of the snow had melted away, making it easier to navigate.

“Sure.” Skye smiled, nodding her head and putting her sword back in its place. “Would you give me a moment to get my cloak?” She asked him.

“Of course, I would loath for you to catch a chill.” He nodded, smiling at her. “I'll meet you by the Keep door.” He said and gave her a low bow.

Skye chuckled at him, shaking her head, then went up to her room and grabbed her cloak, flinging it around her shoulders and clasping it closed, then met Eskel by the main door of the Keep. Smiling at her, Eskel opened the door for her, politely allowing her to step out ahead of him, bowing his head in a gentlemanly gesture.

“How are you liking Kaer Morhen, Skye?” He asked as they started walking around.

“I'm finding it a great deal more comfortable than I thought it would be.” She replied, looking up at the crumbling towers. “I thought for sure, I'd find evil and brain addled monsters.”

Eskel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “Well, you have one out of three right, we do tend to be addled.” He joked, spiritedly.

“Vesemir said, you and Geralt would always get into mischief.” Skye pointed out and looked up at him, curiously.

“Gods, yes!” He laughed again, shaking his head at all the antics he and Geralt had gotten into over the years. “You see that tower, over there?” He asked, pointing out a tower that was still mostly standing compared to the others. “We once stole another Witcher, Aubry, from his bed in the middle of the night, took him to the top of the tower, tied a rope around his ankles and dangled him out the window that used to be at the top of it.”

“Oh gods.” Skye laughed, grinning, as she pictured the poor Witcher hanging upside down from the window.

“He woke up and started shouting and curses, waking the entire place.” Eskel explained, still looking so proud of himself. “Geralt and I got our as—butts.” He quickly corrected himself. “kicked for it. It took a week for both of us to sit down again.” He reminisced, fondly. “Geralt and I also captured a giant forest bumblebee and tied it to a jug, when Vesemir found us rolling the grass, in a fit of laughter, he gave us a good row with a leather strap.”

“You two sound like complete trouble makers.” Skye chuckled, imagining Geralt dangling a fellow Witcher out a window, or laughing in the tall grass that covered the grounds of Kaer Morhen, only to get thrashed with a belt, it made her smirk.

“Still are to a fair point.” Eskel replied, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. “Oh, Geralt!” He smiled, as Geralt came in through the gate, leading Roach, who was carrying a large buck across her back. “Is that dinner?” He asked, nodding at the large animal.

“It is.” Geralt replied, looking between Skye and Eskel, their faces red and eyes damp from laughing. “What are the pair of you doing out here?” He asked, lifting a brow at them.

“I was giving Skye a tour of the grounds.” Eskel said, smiling at her. “Being you haven't yet.”

“Hm.” Geralt huffed, a quiet growl rumbling in his chest.

“Would you like help with the deer?” Skye asked him.

“No, I can manage.” He replied, shaking his head at her. “I wouldn't want to interrupt your and Eskel's walk.” He said, leading Roach away and back towards the keep.

“He's broody today.” She commented, watching him go.

“No more than usual.” Eskel told her, then turned and showed her the rest of the grounds.

“You're jealous.” Vesemir said, stepping into the kitchen, where Geralt was butchering the buck.

“No, I'm not.” Geralt grunted, glaring at the carcass on the table.

“Oh yes, you are.” the older Witcher chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I've seen how you act when Skye and Eskel are together. Brooding, grumpy and standoffish.” He pointed out to his former pupil.

“Classic jealousy.”

“I'm not jealous of Eskel.” He repeated, angrily skinning the deer.

“Geralt.” Vesemir sighed, lifting a brow at him.

Growling, Geralt forcefully stabbed his bloody knife into the table and turned to Vesemir. “All right, fine. I am jealous of Eskel.” He admitted, begrudgingly. “She laughs at his stupid fucking jokes, she smiles at him, a lot. She hardly ever does those things when it's me.” His angered expression fell with his shoulders.

“She even gave him a hug the other day.” He mumbled under his breath.

“You don't exactly open up to her, like Eskel does, Geralt.” Vesemir was honest with the white-haired Witcher. “You barely utter a word to her, so how is she to laugh at something funny you said, if you never say it to begin with.”

Geralt grumbled at Vesemir, scowling, the closest thing to pouting he'd ever do.

“As for smiling, apparently, you don't look at the girl too often, do you?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“That girl is, damn near, always smiling at you, Geralt. Especially, when she thinks you, or anyone else, isn't looking at her to see it.” Vesemir confessed, he'd caught Skye smiling at Geralt's back and several times, blatantly to his face, many times over the weeks.

Geralt gulped at Vesemir, had he been so blinded by his own jealousy, that he missed Skye smiling at him. Yes, he had been. Every time Skye laughed at one of Eskel's jokes or smiled at him, when he entered a room, or hugged him for some reason, Geralt would abruptly get up and leave the area. Needing to get away from them, before he ended up putting his fist through Eskel's face, for being so brass with her.

“I know, you're afraid of hurting her, like you hurt that Princess.” Vesemir said, slowly. “But, if you're not careful, Geralt, you'll end up hurting her anyway.” He told him, before leaving Geralt to finish the deer.

Geralt sighed, leaning on his hands against the table the deer laid half butchered on, head hanging and eyes squeezed shut, trying to get a handle on himself, to pull himself together, away from the jealousy and the growing fear that he'd fallen in love with Skye.

“Hey, Geralt!” Eskel called out, seeing Geralt making his way up to his room.

“Eskel?” He replied, lifting a brow at him.

“Have you seen Skye sword fight?” Eskel asked, motioning to the training room Skye and Vesemir were sparring in.

“No.” Geralt shook his head, chewing the inside of his lip, he had heard about Vesemir giving Skye sword lessons and that she was apparently very good at it, but hadn't gone to see for himself.

“Come on, check her out.” Eskel tried coaxing him. “She nearly took Vesemir's head off a second ago.” He laughed, grinning.

Feeling the root of his jealousy wiggle its way deeper, Geralt turned and approached the training room, standing in the doorway with Eskel. Looking into the room, he saw Vesemir and Skye in the center of the room, swords raised and trained on the other as they slowly circled each other, sizing the other up and waiting to see who made the first move towards the other one. He noticed Skye was wearing a pair of tight leather pants and a black shirt, the long sleeves pushed up to her elbows. It was her that made the first move, going for Vesemir's unprotected left side, nearly getting the blow in, before he twisted and blocked her blade, rotated his wrist and flicked her sword away from him. Geralt leaned his shoulder against the door frame, crossing his arms over his broad chest and watched Skye move and fight Vesemir, a soft smile on his lips.

Skye and Vesemir sparred for several minutes, before Vesemir was able to break through her blocks and smack the side of her thigh with the flat of his blade. Chuckling, they moved apart and smiled at each other, then looked to the door as Eskel clapped, making Geralt roll his eyes at him, but he smiled at Skye, feeling quiver in his stomach as she smiled back at him.

“I bet I can do a better job than Vesemir.” Eskel suddenly announced.

“I doubt it.” Skye retorted, giving him a smug lift of her brow.

“Oh yeah, you wanna put your money where your mouth is.” He quipped, moving into the room.

“I don't have any money, but I'm all right taking yours.” She told him with a wink.

“It's so on!” Eskel laughed, picking up a sword off the rack.

Snorting, Skye raised her sword, like she'd been taught all those weeks before and slowly started circling with Eskel, who was making stupid faces at her, trying to distract her and making her laugh, so he could slip her up. Vesemir moved to stand beside Geralt at the door, one eye on Skye and Eskel with the other eye on Geralt, whose body was unusually tense, watching Skye spar back and forth with the other Witcher.

“Upset it isn't you, she's sparring?” He asked Geralt, quietly.

“No.” He rasped back. “I'm worried he'll hurt her.” He confessed, his enhanced eyes watching every move the two made.

Skye suddenly pushed forward and flicked her blade at Eskel's, managing to send his blade clattering across the stone floor, too far out of reach for him to recover it. Vesemir and Geralt smirked, impressed and amused she'd managed it, Eskel didn't seem so happy about it, his temper suddenly spiking. Geralt tensed, seeing it and straightened up.

“No!” He barked, alarmed as Eskel threw out his three fingers for an Aard, in his frustration.

Geralt's eyes were wide with alarm, golden orbs darting between Skye and Eskel, before he rushed towards Skye, trying to reach her before the blast of the Sign could harmed her. Skye gasped and threw up her arms, her wrists crossing, just as the blast of Eskel's Aard reached her. Geralt slid to a stop, mouth dropping open as the shockwave was deflected off of Skye's crossed arms, only pushing her back a little bit, and other than that, she was unharmed. The mouths of all three Witchers were on the floor, when they realized what she had just pulled off.

“She just Signed a Heliotrop!” Eskel snapped, in surprise, his anger forgotten. “How the hell did she just Sign a Heliotrop!?”

“How?” Geralt whispered and looked Skye over, then met her eyes, still shocked and concerned.

“I don't even know, what a Heliotrop is...” Skye replied, looking back at him, startled.

“It's the thing you just did, by crossing your arms.” Eskel said, shaking his head at her.

“It's what I suspected.” Vesemir spoke up, pulling his jaw up off the floor.

“Suspected what?” Geralt snapped, looking over at him.

“She has Elven blood.”

“That's not possible.” Skye shook her head at him. “My mother hates Elves and my father is assuredly not one either.”

“You could be Quarter-Elf.” Vesemir pointed out.

Vesemir had a strange inkling that Skye wasn't completely Human, he just wasn't sure if it was Elven blood or a Mutation. But, after seeing her use a Heliotrop with such ease and effectiveness, especially being she'd never done one before, was aware she could do one or even knew how to do it, told the old Witcher what he needed to know. Only someone with some measure of Elven blood would have been able to pull off what Skye had just done.

“Quarter-Elves, and even some Half-Elves are capable of passing themselves off as normal, everyday Humans. So, you're at least Quarter-Elf.” He explained to her.

Skye looked between the three of them, a tremble making her lithe body vibrate. Tears sprang up in her minty-green eyes and her bottom lip wobbled, before she burst out of the room and blindly ran down the hall, needing to get away, far away.

Geralt turned on Eskel, jaw tight and lips pressed into a thin and angry line, before driving his fist into the other Witcher's stomach, as hard as he could, sending Eskel stumbling backwards into a wall of axes and maces. Eskel took several wheezy breaths, before he was able to speak again.

“Wh-wh-what wa-as th-that for!?” He demanded, arm pressed against his throbbing abdomen.

“For nearly killing her with your Aard!” Geralt hissed, starting towards him again, but was stopped by Vesemir's hand on his chest.

“She blocked it!”

“You didn't know she could block it, and you still fucking did it!” He growled low in his throat, before pushing away from Vesemir and going after her.

Geralt went to her room first, but found it empty, and started searching the rest of the Keep, before venturing outside to the grounds. He searched almost all of the crumbling towers and out buildings before he found her. He stopped in the doorway of the stables, smiling softly as she pet Roach in her stall.

“She's always great company, when you're feeling down.” He said softly, not wishing to startle her. “Especially, since she doesn't tend to talk back.” He added, with a quiet chuckle.

“What do you want?” Skye sniffled, wiping her hot and wet cheek on the shoulder of her shirt.

Geralt sighed softly, pushing off the frame of the door and approached her, gently resting his hand on Roach's nose, smiling at the mare's greeting neigh. “I came to see if you were all right.” He told her, petting Roach.

Taking a deep breath, Skye let it out with a sigh, she didn't know if she was all right. She was confused and scared, and angry. How could she have Elven blood in her, wouldn't she have known by now. Wouldn't her mother have told her that she did. Did her mother even know that she had Elven blood. Was it her mother that had the Elven blood or was it her father that did. She had so many questions.

“I don't understand.” She sniffled, pressing her lips together. “How can you have Elven blood, of any amount, and not know?” She asked and looked up at Geralt, like he had the answer.

Geralt wished he did have the answer for her, but he didn't.

“I don't know.” He replied instead. “With the persecution of Elves after the uprising, people became loath to admit they were the offspring of Elves. Afraid of what it would mean if people did find out.”

“Great, what's that make me?” She huffed, more to herself than Geralt, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks.

Biting his lip, Geralt reached out and rested his hand on her elbow, gently squeezing it. “It makes you, who you've always been, Skye.” He told her, with a soft sincerity. “Just because you have Elven blood, doesn't mean you're something else, other than yourself.”

“Don't let anyone, ever, tell or convince you otherwise.” He added, giving her arm another squeeze and gently pulled her in against him, carefully folding her into his arms.

Skye paused for a moment, surprised by Geralt's words and gesture, but lightly wrapped her arms around his waist, her forehead resting against his chest as they embraced. Both of them relaxed, Geralt gently tipping his head down to nose her hair, taking in the light scent of the soap she used to wash it, the pleasing warmth of her body resting against his. Skye took a deep breath, taking in the scent of Geralt's warm body, a faint trace of leather from his armor, the tang of Roach, a sweet, woody and smoky aroma from the burning wood fire in his room, and something else, beneath all of it, that was uniquely Geralt.

She found it alluring and comforting all at the same time.

“I promised to take you home.” Geralt whispered into her hair, not ready to pull away from her just yet. “We'll go back, after the first thaw, and get the answers you want and need.” He promised her, hugging his arms around her a little bit more as he felt her shiver.

“I'd like that.” Skye whispered back, softly, resting her cheek against Geralt's chest and closed her eyes.

“Good.” He smiled, and felt the germinating seed in his belly take a firm hold of him and grow a little bit more, into a delicate sprout. “Come, let's get you back inside, before you get ill.” He told her, slowly releasing her from his arms. “I'll even help you make dinner.” He smirked, slyly.

“That'll be the day.” She chuckled, teasingly.

“Hey, I did kill the buck you're using for dinner tonight.” He replied, lowering his head and lifting a brow at her, teasing her back.

“Oh, yes. I can see it going to your head now.” She rolled her eyes, playfully, at him. “Come along, Geralt, before your head gets any bigger and you can't get it through the doorways.” She called over her shoulder, heading out of the stables and back inside the Keep.

Geralt stood there a moment, smiling after her, and suddenly felt a profound happiness creep into him. He snapped out of it though, when Skye stopped and turned around to him, realizing he wasn't following her. He chuckled to himself and started forward to join her, feeling like nothing could ruin what was starting to really bud between them.

-- Chapter IV --

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