#Leather goods repair LA | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

libidomechanica · 9 months ago

Text

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

0 notes

thesmokingguns · 2 years ago

Text

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

121 notes · View notes

whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years ago

Text

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

3 notes · View notes

heliosthegriffin · 4 years ago

Text

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

62 notes · View notes

lunarianillusion · 4 years ago

Text

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

118 notes · View notes

dragons-bones · 4 years ago

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

33 notes · View notes

infinitelytheheartexpands · 4 years ago

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

33 notes · View notes

chasseurdeloup-retired · 3 years ago

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

10 notes · View notes

darling-leech · 4 years ago

Text

Eu’s Fallout background + Fallout Character Sheet!!!!!!

[Credit to DarthSuki on DeviantArt for Fallout Character Sheet] {Also here’s the link to the font I used}

Also here a BLANK one(The one on DeviantArt has question marks (????) on the birthday so I crossed them out, so enjoy I guess and also credit DarthSuki as well).

ANYWAYS here’s her background:

Name: Eugenia Alexandra Everston

Nickname: Alex and Eu(Mostly uses Alex tho)

Race: White

Religion: Agnostic

Gender and Pronouns: Cisgender Woman and She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Age: 22

Birthday: July 31, 2265ish?

Birthplace: Capital Wasteland(The Citadel)

Height: 5′1 FT(154.94 CM)

Weight: 120ish LBS?(54.4311 KG ish?)

Hair Color: White(#FFFFFF) and her EYEBROW color is Black(#000000) (I used Zella’s Hair Dye Collections mod for her hair color and eyebrow color)

Hairstyle: Whisper(Part of the Commonwealth Cuts - KS Hairdos - ApachiiSkyHair mod)

Eyecolor: Dark Brown(#331900)

Game of Origin: Fallout 3 and Fallout 4

Karma: Chaotic Neutral

BEHAVIOR:

Aggression: Aggressive

Confidence: Foolhardy

Assistance: Helps Friends and Allies

S.P.E.C.I.A.L Stats: Strength 7, Perception 10, Endurance 7, Charisma 10, Intelligence 10, Agility 7, and Luck 7

Current Level: Like 40?

Carry Weight: 220?

Actions Point: 80?

Hit Points: 180

Critical Chance: 7%?

Damage Resistance: 7%?

Melee Damage: 4%

Perks/Tagged: Barter/Speech/Cherchez La Femme/Black Widow, Lockpick/Pickpocket/Sneak/Ninja/Hacker/Robots Experts, Big Leagues/Heavy Gunner/Gunslinger/Explosives, and Repair/Medicine/Armorer/Blacksmith/Gun Nut/Science! are just a few.

Weaknesses: Impulsive, Cunning, can be alittle bit Self-Centered/Self-Indulgent/irresponsible, and Unpredictable.

Affiliation: Loosely BOS, The Institute, Minute Men, and Nuka-World Raiders.

Most Liked Companions: Charon, X6-88, Paladin Danse, Porter Gage, and Hancock. Somewhat of Preston Garvey and Cait.

Least Liked Companions: Deacon. Neutral on Curie.

Preferred Weapon Type: Heavy/Energy/Melee

Primary Weapons: Combat Knife, Kellogg’s Gun, and Cryolater.

Secondary Weapons: Big Boy, Nuka-Nuke Launcher, Alien Blaster, and Thirst Zapper.

Preferred Armor Type: Heavy Leather

Primary Armor: Heavy Leather, but usually just wears the Greaser Jacket and Jeans.

Power Armor?: YES

FAMILY:

Parents: She doesn’t know her Biological Parents very well since they died when she was basically an infant(I don’t have many for them yet except for Alex’s last name Everston, but I’ll update this when I do). Madison Li and Conrad Kellogg are her Step Parents(NO I don’t ship the together but they did raise Alex since she was 9ish and up).

Siblings: NONE at least not biologically(Single child lol), but she feels like X6-88 is like a step brother. ALso Arthur Maxson was like a Step Brother/Best Friend as well until she moved to the commonwealth when she was like 9ish.

Friends: Several(Idk if I’ll be able to name them all but here goes, I’ll update as I remember all of them lol). Liam Binet, Arthur Maxson, X6-88, Paladin Danse, Porter Gage, Overboss Colter, Charon, Edward Deegan, Scribe Haylen, Finn(The dude that Hancock kills when you first enter goodneighbor lol), Hancock, Bobbi No-Nose, Dixie, Savoy, Nisha, Mason, Mags Black, William Black, Proctor Teagan, and Redeye to name a few. Sorta Rhys as well.

Lovers(She uh on and off with these tho so ya know): Several. Paladin Danse, Overboss Colter, Finn, Scribe Haylen, Edward Deegan, Mags Black, Nisha, and Bobbi No-Nose to name a few.

Rivals: N/A, unless you count Rhys lol.

Enemies: N/A

Children: NONE and doesn’t want any.

Background(Note: I’m still in the process of writing this so it’ll seem like a mess til I get it finished all the way so please bear with me): Grew up during the events of Fallout 3 in The Citadel, she was around 9ish years old(So NO she isn’t the Lone Wanderer nor is she the Sole Survivor. She’s my Self Insert OC). She doesn’t remember her birth parents because they died when she was really young. She and Arthur Maxson basically grew up together til she meet Madison Li during Fallout 3 and basically latched? onto her and when Madison ultimately decided to leave the capital wasteland she asked Alex if she wanted to go with, and Alex happily agreed. They went to The Institute and settled there, she was kinda shy there at first but eventually made friends with Liam Binet and got out of her shell?(She didn’t really have children her age back at the citadel so lol) I guess. She was/is really like intelligent for her age, so I guess that’s why Madison saw like Potential in her? Anyways, when she was about 16ish? Conrad Kellogg help train her more in combat and stuff and took her on mission on the surface as well. She saw him as a dad but kinda really say anything til one day when he helped with training she was like Thanks, Dad. lol. She then heard about the BOS coming to the commonwealth and went to investigate? and she came along the Cambridge Police Station and met Paladin Danse.

Languages Spoken: English, Chinese, and American Sign Language.

Also this would be probably be a good time to say I have a Refsheet.net sheet for her so: HERE IT IS(It has more like stuff on it? so).

#Fallout #Fallout 4 #Fallout oc #Fallout 4 oc #Fallout 3 #Fallout 3 oc #Character Sheet #Eugenia(aka alex. my self insert oc)#Eugenia #Eu #Alex #self insert oc #self insert #oc #long post #photoset #deviantart

16 notes · View notes

whatdoesshedotothem · 4 years ago

Text

Tuesday 15 May 1838

6 10/..

12 35/..

rainy morning F56° at 7 10 – breakfast, and off to visiter les travaux intérieurs de la houillère de Ste. Marguerite at 8 10 – drove there in 6 minutes the staith being just out of the barrier ......... (right) – commodious yard, sheds etc not many coals up – 3 long brick chimneys – for the pumping engine 100 horse power works (pumps) 48 hours per week – the pulling engine 40 horse power – and the air chimney or vent – shewn into the bureau of the clerk or accountant or what? very civil man –expecting us – we had thought of going down in the panier – the clerk evidently for our going down by the echelles – (ladders) – more safe – had known accidents happen the other way – the chain had broken it seemed some onetime or more since the putting up of the engine – perhaps he thought we should feel sick en descendant – for A-‘s sake he was right – we had brought each a blue blouse from the hotel and A- a casquette and I my velvet travelling cap (my Mt. Perdu cap given by Lady S. de R-) I gladly took a miners’ leather hat offered by the clerk – the gown well tied up right round the waste [waist] under the blouse and a Davy or safety lamp tied with a strongish cord round our middle 2 doll figures (accompanied by a man and intelligent French speaking youth belonging to the establishment and within his old coat and cap) down we set off at 8 ½ by the ladders common ladders but very good and safe – I should guess the steps to be about 18in. long sticks and about 12 in. distant from each other –

SH:7/ML/E/21/0099

and perhaps the ladders about 5 yards long? – we got down very well for several ladders till my lamp (quincaille) not being fast enough tied, slipped off and fell down 3 or 4 ladders with a great noise which (poor A- not understanding) rather unnerved her – the lad went 1st then I, then A- and then the man, then George – we could not have fallen down more than 1 ladder even had we slipped for at the foot of each ladder is a narrow landing as at a, c, e so that we might have fallen without being killed or even very much hurt – but on turning into one of the souterrains at the foot I think the land said the 17th ladder (the depth however = 120 metres = 240 yards +) A- seemed tired and complained of great fatigue in her arms – (she had leaned too much on them in taking hold of the steps as she descended) and after examining the passage where we were (along the last 2/3 of the ladders it had been very wet from the drip of the sides of the excavation) she thought she had better return as we had not descended to ½ the depth – she was right – I put her under the especial care of the man – he returned with her quite safely and I found her just washed and dressed and comfortable on my return home – she said the returning was much less fatiguing than going down and she really did not seem very much tired – however she was poorly sometime afterwards from about 1 ½ till after 4 when we went to see the opening of the exposition of pictures at the musée old church of St. André – said she did not feel quite well on getting up this morning – as soon as I had seen A- well off en route au jour , I and the lad and George set off again downwards – and at 9 20 we were at the bottom our speed having nearly doubled since poor A- had left us – I felt as if I had got into the habit of going down, and as if sorry that the 140ft. below us could not be visited because full of water – old works – the reservoir for the water in the intervals of pumping –we had arrived at the lading place at the bottom of the shaft at 9 20 – where the men were unloading the little wagons dragged by men the 1st 80 yards from where got up to the Galloway gate where the horses (15 hands high – 4 ½ ft. of this country or France) dragged waggons 4 at a time to the lading place 8 or 9ft. high a sort of cavern where about 4 men had charge of the un-lading and re-lading into waggon holding 2 of the others ready for the pulling up – we visited les écuries – 15 horses – and looked about – then proceeded some way along the Galloway gate – which except in the higher parts every now and then and where the waggons could pass – might be about 5ft. high and 6ft. wide for some distance the roof was timbered by the greater part was quite sufficient to support itself – a close hard smooth scale [widening] cut the right bate of the stone (according to the national cleavage) – it was extremely hot - and the road a little sludgy – we were soon put into a train of empty return waggons, and went the rest of the way very agreeably tho’ rather joltingly – a distance of 800 metres from the lading place to where the men were working – about ½ dozen in that spot – others working in different places communicating with this main gate – which might be in general about 5ft. high and 6ft. wide – and perhaps 6ft. high and 8ft. wide and sometimes more in the passing places, where the men often changed the horses from the one train to the other – the bed where we descended to the quatre pieds (the lowest working) was not always of so great thickness the ‘veine’called ‘morais’ is the nest above this – In the 4 pieds bed, the bottom steward told me (he joined us on our getting to the bottom and is the father of the lad who had descended with us) that a man would get fourteen of the small waggons a day = seven of the large waggons which might hold perhaps four of our corves .:. a man would get 28 corves a day, working from 3am to noon = nine hours, and reckon the 28 corves = 3 tons for which he is paid 38 sols – or, the bottom steward said, 38 sols a day – and he himself had four florin a day = about 8 fr. 160 sols – but then he has the superintendence of all the workings and altogether about 150 men employed and under his management – I did not learn how many in the 4 pieds – or how many in the marais or next bed above – about 100 men get coal – and he afterwards said about 70 were employed from 12 at noon (I suppose till 9 which would be this shift or time of working) in making and keeping in repair the roads etc. (straight work? etc) Returned dans le panier – the great square box that would hold 2 of the smaller waggons? or more for it held the bottom steward and lad and myself and George very commodiously and was about breast high – perhaps 4ft. or ft. 6in. square and about 4ft. or 4ft. 6in. deep? – I was too much tired up to get easily to my watch but the man said we should be drawn up in 6 minutes and it seemed about that time and I was at the top again at 11 25 – I should think the pit must be about 5 yards by 3 ½ to 4 yards? – I think we passed 4 openings, or workings opening into the pit – very little tubbing and very nice dry shaft – an [apparently] about 3/4in. iron rod from top to bottom pulls (rings) a bell at the top by which means they know when to let down the panier and when not – a terribly dirty figure and my blouse wet, as also my black stuff petticoat all below the blouse – washed my face and hands put on my cloak to cover all, and went into the bureau with my friend the bottom steward to see the plan of the workings – very extensive – but I could make no near guess as to the quantity of ground worked – perhaps double the length of the Galloway gate or main gate by ½ its length in breadth or 1600 metres x 400 =........ gave the clerk 20fr. and he immediately gave the ½ of it in my presence to the bottom steward, the latter seemed exceedingly pleased, the former said his thank-you so that I fancied he had expected more, but on afterwards asking our landlord, I found I had paid handsomely – the carriage was waiting for me – home at 12 and ordered a fire – A- very glad to see me back – I was more wet from heat than from the water that had fallen on me – had everything to change, and so begin getting all my things out and dressing that it was 2 before I was quite dressed again – then got our boiler to make hot wine and water for A- who was now beginning to be poorly and M. Mathiolis’ coming and talking very loud for an hour knocked her up – shewed him our water boiler and he shewed us a coffee-maker – a sort of still heated by spirit of wine – had cost him 40/. and the silver plates for strainers (tin not good for coffee to stand long in) perhaps would be 10/. more – had not paid for them – Madame Mathioli to go with us at 4 to see the opening of the exhibition of pictures at the musée (old church of St- Andrè) – went to the bookseller in the corner of this Place (St. Lambert) Jacques Desoer for ¼ hour

SH:7/ML/E/21/0100

and bought Granvilles’ Spas of Germany 2 vols. 12mo. 7fr. then with our host and hostess at 4 25 for 1 ½ hour to see the pictures and company – the former not particularly good – the latter the elite of the people in Liège – the burgomaster read a discourse of several pages which lasted about near ½ hour – sitting at a table of green with the governor of the town on his right, and several other gentlemen seated at the table, among the colonel (in uniform) commanding the regiment of Chasseurs now here several ladies seated on chairs ranged at a little distance round the table – unluckily I had not got a chair so that A- and I and our host and hostess all the while – a band of music played at intervals – I was glad of his opportunity of seeing the people – never saw a plainer set of ladies – not one pretty – from the musée M. and Madame M- took us to see the small but very choice collection of pictures at the house of comte d’Outrement (the comte himself at Rome now) – a good Murillo (Madonna and child a Madonna by Guido Remi – a couple of Titians – ditto ditto of Rubens etc. – then looked at M. Mathiolis’ Murillo – would sell it for 1600fr. – a Mr. Alexander Morro had bid him 1500fr. – shewed us his Anglo-French letter – a Mr. William Bolton clericus at Bruges had offered 2000 fr. but on conditions no accepted – shewed us his terribly bad French letter – then went to the bookseller to pay for the Saps of Germany – home at 7 – good dinner (much better than yesterday) at 7 ½ to 9 then A- and I asleep for an hour – had nearly finished our yesterday’s bottle of Hermitage blanc, and drank a demie bouteille of champagne – A- had Oddy – we then set off, and ate 7 oranges a piece after which A- too two pills till 11 20 at which hour F56° - rainy morning till about 9 am afterwards fair finish day

5 notes · View notes

sfiddy · 4 years ago

Text

So Bad

For @academialynx , who made a donation to her local food bank in return for a fic! This is a college AU, moderately prof/student (though the theme is that they DON’T break the rules) boatloads of yearning, and janky building maintenance that leads to getting locked in a closet. She asked me to consider the Brandon Colbein song So Bad. Which I did. :)

Thank you, Dear! Here we go!

Rated T

On AO3

On FF

On Tumblr! (keep reading!)

Another champagne cork popped and a delighted cheer spread through the room. Glasses, plastic cups, and hastily drained coffee mugs were refreshed and the party carried on. Theirs was not a large music department, so to have attracted a fresh, exciting, multi-talented composition and collaborative piano specialist with a few international awards, one ‘early career’ grant and another from the National Endowment for the Arts meant their modest program was about to gain a little fresh clout at interdepartmental tenured faculty meetings.

“Congratulations again, Erik!” Dr. Nadir Khan hauled Erik into a vigorous handshake and pumped for a full three seconds.

Erik winced. He’d be hamfisting the keys tomorrow if they kept this up. “Thank you, Dean Khan. It’s an honor to join as a full professor.”

“I am Nadir to you, and don’t forget it.” Nadir refilled Erik’s plastic cup and tapped his department coffee mug against it, sloshing their champagne into frothy heads. “It’s hard to believe it’s been five years, Erik! You cost me a bet, I’ll have you know. I didn’t think you’d stay after you had to teach that semester of History of Rock and Roll for non-majors.”

The lantern-jawed oboe professor laughed. “Or the infamous Intro to Music Theory.”

“No, no,” disagreed Umbaldo Piangi, the portly voice teacher. “When I went on sabbatical to Teatro La Fenice and you gave him The Chamber Music Outreach Project and graduate tutoring. No warning!” Even the big man’s clucking tongue was musical. “But, Piangi is back, no? I will cut back my performance hours and take back all the lessons and weekends and let Dr. Erik Devereaux return to his writing!”

“Actually,” Erik said, and the room stilled. “The only part I disliked was the public part. I never minded the private instruction. If you would like to split the load, I’m happy to keep the instructional portion while you handle the tours, performances, and...outreach?” He suppressed the grimace well enough.

Piangi, Italian down to his fine shoes, let out a whoop and grabbed Erik in a hug so tight it pressed his ribcage and nearly dislodged his delicate porcelain mask from it’s fine wire and leather fittings.

“Ah, my partner now! I will call donors and show off the little tweeting songbirds with my lovely Carlotta while you teach them not to call for worms! A toast!” Piangi held up his plastic cup once again.

Erik accepted a toast that crackled the edge of his plastic cup and hoped for something new and shiny to distract them. Or for the lights to suddenly flicker and fail as they were prone to do, along with randomly closing doors in the terribly laid out office and work spaces. The college had access to talent pipelines that the underfunded and neglected department had not been able to tap. Their aggressive recruitment of him was a last ditch effort for change before the tiny group was relegated to a four piece for the university reagent’s cocktail brunch and a marching band for the far-better funded football team.

“To Dr. Devereaux!”

With a conspiratorial grin, Erik drained his cup and winked at Piangi. “To the songbirds.”

…

Tenure in hand, Erik started his campaign. Once he ditched the worst teaching credits to lecturers and adjuncts, he could focus on recruiting. Specifically, to score a few respected but not-yet-headliner talents. Emerging performers without a good gig had few options and the status and modest stipend to be a ‘visiting artist’ might be more attractive than the floating gulag of a cruise ship.

A few excellent but relatively unknown performers could teach and perform, receive some finishing, and get quickly farmed out into the world. The reputation-building move would be pricey, but no one gets paid dividends before investing.

His development grant would cover three such artists. He got more than fifty applications. Erik rubbed his eyes under the mask. It was a good thing he never had plans-- it would be a long weekend.

…

The old music labs building had settled over the years and gained what the senior faculty referred to as ‘personality’. Erik took this to mean ‘genially hazardous’. No amount of facility requests or complaints brought the doors and keys division to do maintenance.

He was a quick learner though, and only got locked in his workroom twice before catching the door with his foot became second nature. He even set a flaking brick, plucked from a neglected flower bed outside, in the corner by the door and kicked it against the frame as a doorstop. Every time he came to his workroom, a narrow converted closet with a work bench and packed with shelves of manuscripts, music, errant repair kits and recording equipment, he would hit the outside light switch, unlock the door, step in, catch the door, then kick the brick.

Switch, step, catch, kick. His shoes were gaining new wear marks.

After kicking the brick into place, Erik opened his laptop and went over the last files. He’d asked the department admins to strip out the audio files to just the audition pieces and remove identifying details from the fifty applications. If he was going to invite talent, their first hurdle would be their musicianship. Once he’d culled the herd to ten, he’d submitted his picks to the dean to select the three finalists. Now they needed invitations. Two vocalists and a classical guitarist made the cut and he spent the next few hours getting more acquainted with their files and ignoring the pings of his filling inbox.

At least it was just his inbox. No one came to the music labs and his closet if they could help it.

If he was honest, no one came to meet him in person if they could help it.

…

Most performers were beautiful. Entire websites and product lines were devoted to skincare for singers, makeup tutorials, look books and wardrobe consulting. Erik’s particular variety of deformity would stand out in any circumstances, but in an entire department stuffed with the striking, stunning, and unconventionally glorious, he bordered on eyesore. Even Piangi could command a room with his generous, rosy smiles and booming laugh.

The mask was the best combination of memorable and functional he could muster. Yes, surgery was an option but who signed up for years of unnecessary pain and the risk of infection? He had better things to do.

Like meet with his new visiting artists.

The classical guitarist had supple wrists and forearms like Popeye. His rolled cuffs drew the eye to the action while his cleverly knotted scarf kept you looking at his face, framed by artfully mussed hair.

“We’re looking forward to your first concerts and hope you’ll consider collaborations with local programs.”

The baritone had a one in a million voice. How he hadn’t been snapped up for opera yet was a mystery but Erik supposed it was his poor presence. When you had the goods, you still had to sell them, and the young man’s love of neon, bad hair, and questionable repertoire (pin the tail on a Hal Leonard page) needed polish. His work was shockingly precise and sounded like he had a cathedral in his mouth.

“Our faculty and staff are a rich resource for young performers and are always eager to assist. We often work in parallel with the communications department and local professionals to prepare our artists for the culture and community as well as the stage.”

The soprano was the risk. The recording had been largely boilerplate and her prior experience thin. The reason she got in was a one-point-two second pause in her audition tape. It was the silence that told Erik she had chops.

Imagine, a soprano unafraid of silence. It had been late in the weekend when he selected her and had not yet been able to examine the head shot.

“I… um...”

“Yes, Dr. Devereaux?”

“Welcome, Miss Daaé.”

…

The visiting artists would survey classes, provide demonstrations and guest lectures, and appear at university events, auditions, and generally get the word out that the department was shifting to a growth phase. That was the official description. Unofficially, there would be a mountain of effort to make each emerging artist a shot on goal for the department. Recording deals, major and paid appearances, and successful auditions all counted toward the tally.

Guitar was not Erik’s forte, and as much as he could contribute to the baritone’s look and polish, Erik had cultivated a far more… refined profile than the young man aspired to. Erik maintained collars sharp enough to cut bread and a spotless sheen on his porcelain mask. Right now, Dean Khan aspired to cut the young man’s mullet tail off.

“Excellent, Miss Daaé, right on time.” Erik slid the fall board up and they prepared to work. She understood how to modulate her tone, how to select the emotional pitch to match the song, to contrast with it for effect. She explored her range and willingly failed to find her borders. It all made for an excellent student.

It was the quiet that made her breathtaking. The anticipation of her. Tenths of seconds that tightened the chest and made a quiver run through the blood. Not often, only when it mattered, and only when it would matter enough to do so.

When he could stand it no more, he asked her about it.

“I’m sorry, I can try to stop.”

“I didn’t ask you to stop, I asked when you started doing it.”

She considered him, her ribbons of curling hair twisting as she shifted. “When my father was sick. I could feel the need for silences because he couldn’t talk anymore. It just felt… right.”

Erik nodded. “Again.”

…

She’d been a late bloomer. A ghost on the scene and at least five years older than the rest of the sopranos at her stage. It also meant she hadn’t spent her entire high school and college career belting Broadway in the recital rooms, building nodes on her vocal chords.

They finished late one night and he walked her to her car. “So what did you do for practice?”

She pinked under the parking lot lights. “I, um… waited tables at an Italian restaurant. You know, where your server might sing opera when they bring you breadsticks?”

Erik nodded. “Parmesan and Puccini?”

Bless her, she giggled. “Bellinis and Bellini. A few really knew when they were hearing but most just wanted to hear Nessun Dorma because they heard it on Youtube. I managed to get a few singing jobs out of it but I mostly just waited tables.” They stopped at her car but she hadn’t reached for her keys yet. “I was a bartender and the second understudy for a Gilbert and Sullivan society when I saw your announcement.”

“Their loss,” Erik said. He left off the second half.

“Thanks.” Christine hesitated. “I didn’t expect to be accepted, so… thanks.”

Something changed in the breeze. Something cool and soft in the night air mixed with the gold light pouring down from the lights. It highlighted the curls that spiralled out of control around her neck as she tilted her head just so.

It was just a moment, a funny thump that ricocheted in his chest at her upturned face, her soft smile. Maybe her eyes flicked down, maybe her sharp inhale had a little catch in it. Maybe it was the way her lip twitched, but a red flag suddenly waved in Erik’s head and he stepped back carefully. He had a powerful fear of heat and burns.

“Yes, of course. The, uh, department was very happy to offer the opportunity.”

She blinked. “Of course. Well, thanks for the great session and walking me to my car. Have a nice evening, Erik.”

Christine drove away and Erik stood in the parking lot for some minutes after her taillights had faded. He imagined it. Surely, he’d taken a friendly conversation the wrong way. She wasn’t his student, strictly speaking, but he had influence over her career, which would be just as bad.

Besides, he had completely misread the whole thing. Surely. Women didn’t look up at him like that-- like he would kiss them. After a walk after dark, telling him about themselves, and looking at him like that.

No one looked at him like... that.

Oh no.

…

She wasn’t strictly his student. He was her mentor. Even a brief thought made it obvious and completely inappropriate. Did she think it would improve her opportunities?

Erik swallowed. No, if that was the game she wouldn’t have backed off. Surely he’d misread the situation.

…

They brewed tea together. She remembered his favorite oolong.

…

He saw a cascade of curling hair on his way to the post office and his heart leapt.

It wasn’t her. The disappointment was too confusing to examine.

…

His mouth went dry when her sweater slipped from her shoulder. Then he knocked the music from the stand.

She smiled and helped him pick up the sheets.

There were freckles on her shoulder.

...

Five months into the visiting artist tour and Piangi had the concert hall packed for their first performances. Franco the guitarist, who preferred just the one name, would play a twenty minute set, followed by the baritone Burton Armstrong, as baritoney a name as Erik had ever heard, then Christine, and finally Franco would play again with accompaniment.

Erik was content to stay in a tiny box seat far to the side as Piangi introduced each performer. Franco had gained the stage he deserved, and Burton had been convinced to get a proper haircut and suit, and sang a particularly impressive Russian ballad set.

Christine was introduced and settled onto the stage. She was radiant in dark blue, and decorated her baroque set with agility. From his perch, Erik could as easily imagine her distributing bellinis as gracing an opera stage. It was not an insult. After her short set, she nodded and was joined by Burton. A duet?

She looked up and found him, up in his perch. She nodded, and the two launched into a series of excerpts from Semele, Handel’s somewhat neglected tale of a torrid affair between a mortal woman and the god, Jupiter.

Their gazes met as she sang.

O Jove! In pity teach me which to choose,

Incline me to comply, or help me to refuse!

The baritone thundered.

Too well I read her meaning,

But must not understand her.

If Erik’s ears heard the rest of the concert, he could not recall it later.

…

Dean Khan adjourned the faculty meeting. “Oh Erik, if you have a moment?”

They waited until the room was cleared and Nadir closed the door, then casually looked over the remaining pastries. “Excellent concert last month. The work with Burton is certainly paying off.”

Erik leaned against the table. “His socks were bright green, but we felt it was a workable compromise.”

“Franco is excellent in front of the crowd. Has he met the flamenco dancers yet?”

“I put in a call. I think he’s going to their weekly meeting next Thursday.”

“Marvelous. Let me know how that goes when you hear, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Erik felt his chest tighten the longer Nadir perused the snacks and chose to tear off the bandage himself. “Anything else?”

“There is, in fact,” Nadir did not look up from the muffins. “Christine’s performance was exceptional. Truly filled with passion.”

Erik tried to take a sip of coffee but his cup was empty. He faked it. “She’s a wonderful artist.”

“Yes. I couldn’t help but notice--” Nadir paused over the croissants, then passed them over to examine the cookies. “You two seem to have a unique and strong mentor-trainee relationship.”

“Thank you.” It had not been a question. There was nothing here… yet. “We work well together.”

“I’m glad to hear that. The program you’ve created is admirable for it’s transparency and integrity.”

“I agree. Thank you for noticing.”

Nadir looked up with a slight nod, then selected a macadamia cookie. “I’m sure the remaining six months will fly by, Erik.”

He had no idea how to respond.

...

Six months. There were six months left in the visiting artist term. There were more sessions, a mini tour, and a series of small concerts meant to showcase the new talent the department had ‘produced’.

Six months of lies, pretending he was misunderstanding something. Pretending he didn’t notice the way she was at his side and on his mind. Then she would leave him to the dull, overworked life he’d made for himself in the hopes of making a name for himself while simultaneously avoiding attention. More lies, but easier to swallow.

Her voice came from the hallway. “Erik? I’m heating up some water, would you like tea?”

“Is it the one you brought?”

A light laugh. Sparkling. “Of course.”

He dropped his work and grabbed his cup. “Be right there.”

…

A very successful fundraiser was wrapping up on the top floor of the performing arts center. It had a view over the campus, the nice side, and the glow of downtown caught the streaking rain on the tall glass walls.

The donors had been generous, delighted with the new features of the program and the willingness to be accessible. Erik stayed to the side, avoiding the center of the room where Piangi and his wife Carlotta took up residence. Nadir circulated the room, nudging him out from time to time for a refill and to participate. When forced to do so, Erik sloshed some middling red wine into his glass and let himself slip into Christine’s gravity for a few minutes before drifting away again.

He could feel her gaze.

The cocktail party was to end at eleven-thirty, and by then nearly all the guests had left. The last ones were rushed out and Piangi hurried to the bar.

“Open season!”

A quick crush to the bar and every open bottle was ‘liberated’ to the long-suffering exhibits. Christine topped off her glass and passed the bottle to a fellow soprano, hardly twenty years old, and the two laughed and kicked off their heels. Piangi and Burton laughed over an earlier flub and the cello player, finally able to pack his instrument and relax, demanded and received a full glass.

Erik tipped back a hearty, warm swallow and emerged from the hinterlands.

“Oh, hi Dr. Devereaux! Did you just get here?” teased Carlotta. “Your legend only grows the more you hide.”

“All part of my devious plan,” he conceded. Christine’s giggle mingled with the laughs of her peers. “If you’ll excuse me. Piangi, brilliant as always.”

“Same to you, Erik! We plan many parties now, no?”

Easing his way towards the mirth, Erik relaxed. There were plenty of others around, and this was just the after party to a long dog and pony show. Listen to the pretty songbirds and throw money at the program, invitation only. They all deserved drinks after three hours of that.

Christine was plucking a pin from her hair. She shook the curls loose. “Hi Erik! God, I’m so glad to see you.”

“Oh?”

She held up a bottle. “Yeah, you need a refill.”

It had been a long night. These events could be tricky to navigate. Sometimes there was politics, other times business rivals. More often, donors expected special privilege and access in exchange for their checks, as if the last hundred years of progress meant nothing. The way a few of them had looked at Erik, maybe it didn’t.

He let her pour some white wine over the dregs of his red. Improvised rosé. “Everything go okay?”

“Good enough. I think I have some auditions, and some stuff nearby might open up for me.”

“That’s great. Who with?”

A nice chorus. A solid baroque group. Both could springboard to bigger things. A few bigger things were here.

“What’s bigger?” She asked, her eyes dark and soft.

He had not meant to speak, and now he rushed his words. “Things! Choirs, operas. There’s a few small opera troupes and there’s churches that need choral directors that know how to work with organ and piano.”

She sniggered. “Organs.” The other soprano dissolved into giggles.

Erik pulled out his phone. Clearly neither was driving tonight. He absently tallied up his glasses and admitted he wasn’t either.

“Do you play the organ, Erik?”

“Yes.”

Christine stepped closer and, on pure instinct, Erik put his arm around her as she turned her head to speak.

“Can I watch?”

His collar was tight. He pulled up the app and ordered a car.

They ran through the rain, more than sprinkled, less than soaked. Plenty wet to shiver from the chill of the driver’s exuberant air conditioning, though. Between giggles and poorly composed directions, they dropped off the other soprano who wobbled successfully to her door before their driver sped away. Christine did not shift away to the other seat, but leaned into him, tucking herself against his side.

The driver glanced in the rear view mirror, then looked away.

She was cool and smooth. Her loosened curls had tightened from the wet and tickled his neck and brushed against his mask.

Her hand on his thigh. Erik said nothing. If he was silent there was a kind of deniability, or denial at least, of what was happening. If he could deny that her fingernails caught on the inner seam of his trousers, then she could deny that his hand was firmly planted at her waist, holding her close.

And if she could deny that, then she could also deny that her nose bumped his chin, her ragged breath loud in his ears. And they could both deny that their lips grazed, a not-kiss somehow more intimate than if their lips moved and pulled at each other. Like her singing, it was the pause that made your breath catch and your insides tug.

“What number?”

Dashboards lights reflected in her eyes. “That one,” she said, and cautiously settled. The driver pulled forward and Christine unbuckled.

“Good night, Erik. See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Christine.”

The driver glanced in the rearview. Erik looked down. “Sorry.”

The driver shrugged.

One more month.

…

He was hiding. He’d been hiding for weeks; stopped looking for her, stopped even wondering where she was or if she was alone. There was no way to be near her without the pretense of a piano that wouldn’t leave him shaking. No way to think about her without wanting.

He was Erik, a composer, a conductor, performer, designer of auditory spaces and translator of music. He was a collaborative pianist and vocal specialist. He’d given everything to music and the service of it, the delivery of it. He didn’t need this. He’d never had this.

No one ever offered. So he’d found fulfillment elsewhere, until now.

Erik hunched over his work, safely tucked into his corner of the music labs building. Between grading, senior thesis submissions, revisions to his own publications, and a request for a letter of recommendation, he could be plenty busy late into the night with no need for anyone to--

“Hello? Erik?”

Erik snatched at his mask and settled it. He’d been found. Time to lie, except he can’t lie to her.

“Can I help you with something, Christine?” He gathered a stack and stood. She met him by his door.

“Well, yeah,” she paused, blocking his path momentarily before stepping aside. “I need your signature on my visiting artist release. And another on my endorsement for my new job.”

Erik hefted his armload to the work closet. “I’m sure they look forward to meeting you. Come on.” He unlocked the door and held it open, then followed behind her, hitting the light switch with his elbow before catching the door on his foot, then he kicked the brick into place. He had to hold the stack to keep it from spilling across the work table.

She handed him the forms. Erik moved to a span of clean tabletop and started scanning the release form. Government agency boilerplate to satisfy the grant was mixed with flowery language so no one would suspect they were anything but artists. Yesterday Franco had brought Burton’s form-- yep, this was Christine’s. So on and so forth.

Erik had just finished scratching out his signature when he heard a familiar scrape.

“Why on earth do you keep a-”

Click.

“--brick?”

Erik pressed the heel of his hand into his chin.

“Are we… locked in?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” A faint rumble vibrated in the walls. “I don’t suppose that was just… construction?”

Erik let out a mirthless laugh. “There were storms brewing earlier. Besides, does this building look like they work on it?”

“Not really.”

Another rumble, louder, and the light fixture jittered.

Christine finally took a deep breath. “Have you been avoiding me?”

“No! Yes. I don’t know.” He touched his hairline, recapped a pen. “We crossed a line. I had to get back behind it and I couldn’t if we…” His hands skated across the table top nervously.

“Is this about being my mentor?”

Erik barked an ugly, bitter laugh. “What else? God, you just, out of nowhere, with your smiles, and the way you look at me, and sing to me, and the Semele…” Erik’s skin grew tight as he recalled the cocktail party. He turned, face growing hot beneath the porcelain and his throat tightening. He was a ruin.

“--and the touching and wanting and you’re… you’re just going to leave! I’m a fucking idiot!”

On cue, an extended, throaty roar of thunder rattled the stone and brick until the bare bulb above could suffer no more. With a loud pop, the narrow room went dark. They both scuffled in the dark until they had hold of something sturdy.

“Erik?”

He was embarrassed. He was frustrated. “What.”

“You need to sign the other form.”

“Want to get away that bad? Fine.” He reached for a desk lamp and tried to turn it on. He flipped the switch furiously. The power was out.

“Here,” Christine held up her phone and lit the screen. Her screensaver was… them? Beside a piano together?

Erik snatched a pen from the table and slashed his name. “There. Just search for facilities or call the university police. They can unlock the door.”

“Erik, did you even look at it?”

“Why bother.”

She snorted at him. “God, you’re so blind.”

“The lights were out.”

“Fine, you want to be a jerk, be one, but at least look at where I’m taking a job before you decide to walk.”

She lit up her phone once more and he glared at the page like it was staring at his mask. He tracked the offer and terms until he reached the party names and…

“You took a job at… a middle school? Here?” He looked up into the dim light. “You’re not leaving?”

“Meet the new grade six to eight choir director. Go Scotties. And now you have no direct influence over my career.”

Her screensaver dimmed, and before it went dark, Erik could make out a flash of their faces, turned to each other. He wondered if Nadir had seen this moment, because they looked as passionate as lovers despite being feet apart.

The room went black again, and he could hear her moving.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That much has been apparent. What do you know?”

She was close. Close enough to feel the way she shifted the air. “I know way too much about motif design, lyric phrasing--”

Closer. “Go on.” Her hips were near his.

“Harmonic theory, vocals”

“Can attest.” Her fingertips were at his jawline, tracing his mask. “I thought it would be cold.”

“It’s been on my face all day. Early Romantic era competition and,” his voice scraped over gravel, “that I want you. So bad.”

Her kiss was her reply. Erik’s hands flew around her as she pivoted to the table with him, dragging his mask upwards. He gasped as cool air brushed his face, followed by light, curious fingertips and her hot mouth. Erik knocked over the stack of papers and files with a satisfying splatter.

“Is that light over there?” she asked, dragging her lips from his. “Around that cabinet door?”

“What?” he panted. “I thought that was a panel.”

She pushed him off gently, peering up at the wall. “Right there, see?”

Sure enough, there was a thin line of light. It was a hidden door with a magnetic latch.

“They can’t keep the regular door from locking you in but they put a trick door at the back?” Erik complained as he climbed through awkwardly. Very awkwardly. Her lips were red and swollen.

“Let me grab my things and we can get out of here.”

Erik checked his watch. “First, we’re turning in your forms.”

“It’s almost five!”

“We’ll make it if we run.”

Panting, they caught the dean just as he was packing up to leave.

“Erik, Christine? Are you alright? That was some storm we--”

Erik shoved the forms at him. “Yep. Terrible storm. Here.”

“Indeed, Erik. Why, your hair is a mess and I’ve never seen your shirt untucked.”

“Big wind. Yep. Almost hit by lightning. Here, time stamp?”

“Miss Daaé, you may want to adjust…”

“For God’s sake just take the stupid form so we can go!” Christine shouted.

Nadir laughed and scanned the forms. “I don’t want to see you until Monday, Erik. You better be late.”

He didn’t make it in until Wednesday.

...

#academialynx #poto fic #modern au #POTO college AU #e/c #yearning #So Bad

31 notes · View notes

ispyaespa · 4 years ago

Text

RETRIEVED: Young Blood is Good

TW: Age discrimination, arguments, meetings, old school thinking, discussion about someone’s brother being hospitalized, implied mention of SM founder (reimagined as the head of the agency that the aespa branch is part of), implied mention of BoA (reimagined as a veteran agent/personnel), implied mention of other SM acts (reimagined as other branches)

DATE: 18.02.20

LOCATION: [Redacted]

AGENT: Winter

“Thank you for coming to meet with us on such short notice,” the man at the head of the table said. He folded his hands in front of him and stared at all of the seats, filled with different personnel of all ages and genders. “It has come to my attention that our original quartermaster managing the aespa branch is looking to retire in late March. That puts us in a precarious position, as we did not have an apprentice or back-up person in mind when setting up this division.”

He paused for a moment to let his words in sink in. The others seated at the meeting table were silent and looked to him, waiting for his next remark.

The man continued as he produced a pen and sheet of paper from his leather document holder and uncapped the pen. The tip hovered over the paper and he prompted the individuals to nominate candidates for the replacement position.

“Sir, that’s a tree being sacrificed,” a male agent noted.

The girl beside him nudged him in the arm, then spoke up to nominate a male candidate from the tech division of NCT. “He is very skilled with repairs and we can trust him – over 5 years of experience with the organization,” the girl explained.

Another gentleman scoffed and leaned back in his seat with a smirk. “If you appoint the baby from that branch, you might as well send in my colleague from the SHINee division to assume the role. He’s good with weapons but terrible at tech and staying focused.”

Before the girl could come back with a quip, another man spoke up as he fixed his tie. “SM-nim, I have a potential candidate in mind, but she is not with the organization at this time.”

The entire table looked at the speaker, but he remained poised as he pressed in some commands on his smart watch. In seconds, a hologram of the young woman appeared from his watch, which showed her face, then a brief clip of her shooting at the range where he discovered her.

“She’s almost done with college prep,” the man continued. “I met her when she was trying to, ahem, shoot off some steam. A reckless driver injured her brother in a hit and run accident and they hadn’t caught the perpetrator yet. Apparently this was a bonding activity the two shared prior to his accident.”

“Age?”

“I would gather at least 17,” the man replied. “She passed my profiling test when I spoke with her at the range one day. No traces or flags about her going rogue or being dangerous.”

The first girl who nominated an NCT candidate cringed. This did not go unnoticed by the man who was showing his hologram, who then prompted her about her look of concern.

“That’s a bit young to drag someone into our business,” she replied.

The male who bantered with her nodded sharply. “She may be skilled with shooting, but she’s not part of the organization and we cannot guarantee that she is trustworthy, based on your, what do you call it hyung? Profiling “test” I suppose?”

The man referred to as SM listened to everyone and held up a hand to silence them, once he heard enough. “Your candidate is promising from what I can tell. I understand the concerns everyone has, but our colleague has a point – we may need to look outside the organization for fresh talent.” He rested the pen’s end on his bottom lip, then asked if anyone else had a nomination. He waited a few moments, but no one else spoke up.

A woman in a wide brim hat raised her hand and asked for permission to speak. SM nodded at her and the woman thanked him.

“We are all aware that aespa is our newest and youngest branch,” the woman began, “we should look and consider the current team. We have Karina and Ningning at this time, both ladies are in their late teens. They’ve shown us many times that age does not hinder their actions or contributions to the organization. Perhaps it would be good to bring in someone close to their ages, so their team can grow and evolve together.”

“Thank you Agent BoA,” the man replied as he turned off his watch. He looked to SM for his response, and the head of the organization rose from his seat.

“A vote then,” SM ordered. “All in favor of promoting our current colleague in NCT?”

A few hands went up and SM counted them in his head. Then he asked for those in favor of the new candidate.

In addition to the agent appointing this young lady, Agent BoA allowed a small smile to cross her lips as she raised her hand as well. She watched as others joined and noted that there were more in favor of this new girl.

“Then it’s decided.”

@yanlee (OG) @la-soleilmafia-cb @domyukhei @demon-lee @vampiremomo @yoursjennie @vamp-minho @your-seunghun @yandere-bc @witchy-ryu

#[ LOG: Winter ]#[tw: age discrimination]#[tw: meetings]#[tw: old school thinking]#[tw: sibling hospitalized]#[tw: mention of shooting range]#[tw: mention of SM]#[tw: mention of other SM talent]

6 notes · View notes

eorzeanharmony · 4 years ago

Text

Fallout

After the events of a terribly off-track recon mission at a remote Garlean castrum, the infiltrators ended up leaving with one more person than they came with... a near-mortally wounded young soldier kidnapped rescued by Deccan Aurelius.

With the youth near death from his injuries, the rogue tesserarius had to find someone to help...

(forgive the back-and-forth tenses; this is a transcript of RP rather than short fiction.)

Adelle hurried out through the door to a hallway in the rear of the house, dressed in her usual brown cloak and skirt. One sleeve looked s bit charred, but otherwise there wasn't so much as a thread out of place. The small raen woman who had greeted Deccan, Naino, bowed at the waist and slipped downstairs to put together a tray of tea and cakes. From the hall was the busy chatter of people, the guffawing laugh of someone amused and a hammer as another person did their best to repair a ceiling. A small green Au Ra glanced their way and vanished out the door trailing pipe smoke, and a raven haired Roegadyn excused herself as she dragged in several planks of dry wood. "Lovely to see you again, Deccan. Come, I have a private office where we can speak. Do you have a preference for tea or coffee?"

The big blond man nods.. he looks a bit different than the last time she saw him; short leather jacket, tank top, denim pants, practical boots but all in shades of dull tan and brown. Instead of the gunner's goggles he'd been sporting the night before, he wears a simple pair of frameless glasses on his aquiline nose. They don't seem very strong, though... the lenses don't distort his pale green eyes much, if at all. Odd. "Ah.... thank you for seeing me...." Dec glances at the few people in the area, "Actually... I think your office is probably advisable, given the circumstances."(edited)

"Certainly," she smiled, and gestured for him to follow down the winding corridors and a flight of stairs. Adelle opened the door and peered in, then urged him to make himself comfortable. The room was quiet, save for the heavy tick-tock of the chronometer, and smelled faintly of citrus and dried roses. A second desk faced them on the opposite side of the room, surrounded by bounty posters, armor polish and hunting gear. "Mist's desk," she explained as she claimed her usual high back chair. "Now please, speak freely. I keep the same privacy and discretion here that I do in my infirmary. Whatever you can tell me about my possible patient would be welcome."

Deccan's pale gaze seems to track around the room with an inordinate amount of care and practiced method, even as he eases himself into the proffered chair. It's like he's looking for.... something. Guards? Wards? Cameras? ...All three, likely. Eventually though, it returns to Adelle. "He was... ah. Rescued from the site of a conflict between Eorzean and Garlean forces. Though..." The man fidgets quietly. "his wounds predate the incident. I've been doing what I can to care for him, but he's got internal injuries and I think he's going septic. He's young, he has his whole life ahead of him... I don't want him to die...."

Adelle leaned forward. With her gloved fingers laced on the desk she frowned, and the branch-like scarring that curled up the side of her face tugged awkwardly at the corner of her mouth. "Which side was this man on? I assure you now, it makes no difference to me other than knowing how to help him." Her brows furrowed. "Well, if he will accept my help. That is a factor as well "(edited)

Deccan sighs, frowning vaguely, and tangles his fingers together. It's this behavior that may well indicate his 'fidgeting' is less displacement activity and more the fact that the scruffy blond man's hands shake nigh constantly. "He's... Garlean," the blond admits quietly. "That's why I was resistant to bringing him to more, eh..." He fishes for a good word, "... commonly accessible clinics, or the Conjurer's Guild. As for accepting your aid, he doesn't want to die either. Like I said, I'm no medicus... but I...remember that the one that had been seeing him indicated his chance of survival was low..." He scowls distantly at his hands. "I don't know, maybe it is too late, but I have to at least try."

"Does he receive aetheric healing without issue, or should I plan for other means?" She reached for a mosaic, gem-encrusted fountain pen and began scribbling on a sheet of loose parchment. "I could always use aetheric means and stabilize him after the fact..." She mused, tapping the pen against the desk's surface. "What are the extent of his injuries as you know them? And does he speak Eorzean?"

"I don't know," he admits, honestly enough. "I haven't really had a problem with it, but I know some people are really prone to aethersickness just from the exposure. As for his wounds... I'm pretty sure they're from arrows, or some other piercing weapon. But either he wasn't recovered quickly enough, or they were poisoned with something... or I don't know, that part of La Noscea is a jungle and who knows what could have gotten to him..." He wrings his hands a little more, "I'm sorry, I don't know more..." As for speaking Eorzean, he nods, though the question surprises him. "He does, yes..."

"Easier for me, then. I can explain things to him. I am unfortunately a bit rusty..." She continues to write, scribbling various tools and medicines and potions. The Elezen lifted a hand to her linkpearl. "Naino? Forgo the tea. Can you see if Silas is available? No, not Cassius. The first Silas. Thank you." She smiled. "You have told me plenty. Who is he currently with? Do you leave him alone?"

Deccan nods slightly. "He's... at my place. He's safe; it's quiet there and I know no one will find him. I don't really have a choice but to leave him alone... but I did set up a bit monitoring system that alerts me if something happens. I don't leave him alone for very long, though." He pulls out a battered Garlean-made tomestone and shows it to her.

She nodded, although the tomestone gave her reason to pause. Adelle seemed to stiffen some in her comfortable chair, and drew in a deep breath as though to steady herself. "We will need to go swiftly then. Naino will let me know if Silas is available, although I am beginning to see that you are...quite desperate. What would you have done if I had reported you to the authorities for harboring what amounts to a criminal?" Adelle capped the pen and slipped it into her desk. "How long has he been ill?"

Deccan fidgets with the 'stone quietly. "I... don't know," he admits, frowning a little. "Milloux knows about my background; I figured if she vouched for you, you would at least be inclined to hear me out instead of just... following the party line." His pale eyes lift, "I'd like to think that was a point of common ground, actually," he continues. "I've been talking to him. Explaining things. He's no criminal, I know that much... just a soldier in a war that was set in motion by forces none of us can stop. All anyone can do is try to stem the bleeding..." He sighs, pushing himself to his feet, "I can't answer that either. I don't have any of his paperwork... but I know he's not doing well. Maybe... about a week?"

"So long?" Her sapphire eyes widened. "Twelve, then perhaps we have even less time to discuss this than I thought." Adelle stood and rounded the desk, hurrying to the door. She left it open as she nearly ran down the hallway and passed off the note she'd scribbled to someone else, then made her way back to the office. On her return she had a weathered, walnut cane in hand. Expertly she clipped it to the mount sewn into the back of her cloak, and beckoned for him to follow. "My apologies. I had no idea it had been so long. I would have suggested I come your way at once. I have my staff preparing my things for me. Is there anything else I should know?"

Deccan jogs after her, now looking more concerned than he did at the start. "Ah... not that I know of. I live... um. You know where the Sultana's Breath is, yes? In the Goblet. I can meet you there..." At least it's not anywhere strange or unfamiliar.

"I do. Which ward?" She glanced briefly back over her shoulder at him and paused briefly at the infirmary door. Her leather medical satchel was already within easy reach, and clinked tellingly as she snatched it up. Dozer perked his head at the sight of her and wagged his tail. After a moment of hesitation she whistled, and the little terrier bolted to her side. A few commands had him sticking close, his attention fully on her. He didn't even go for a sniff of Deccan's boots.

"Twelfth ward," the big man says, stuffing his tomestone back into his pocket. "We can take my airship if you don't mind close quarters. It's not really intended to carry more than one but I'm sure it'd be fine since I didn't exactly arrive with cargo onboard." That said, he goes to head back outside, presumably toward his transportation.

She shook her head. "I will meet you there. I can take aethertyes without complication."

He doesn't seem all that surprised. "Well... all right. Don't go to the front door, go around back. I'll be there as soon as possible." The airship -is- there... small, single-man, and obviously an Ironworks manacutter, although it looks kind of banged up and secondhand. The big blond vaults into the cockpit, straps in, and starts it up, hovering just for a moment before wheeling to one side and lifting off, accelerating into the southern skies.

—————————————

Adelle was quick to bid farewell and, after Naino explained where Silas could be found in the house, hurried to find him herself. Peering in through the doorway, the elezen waved toward him. "Silas! I have a patient I would appreciate your help with. A Garlean man, and it sounds like he has been through more than I would like for a patient. I offered my help before I had the full story, and now I think it might be helpful to have you along. We will be at the Sultana's Breath apartments in Ward twelve. I have to hurry there, but please meet me if you can."

It would take awhile before Deccan manages to catch up.... airships, however fast, aren't instantaneous and can't compete with simply teleporting from place to place. If they go around the back, as instructed, they'll find... well... a small cactus garden, and one of the maintenance entrances. It lacks the ornamentation of the front portal, has a 'NO ENTRY' sign on it, and is, of course, locked.

"seventy and seven hells, Adelle." He sat bolt upright, turning to flash a hint of a panicked glare "what does he know?" Silas stood, closing the notes he had been working on, and began putting together his field kit. "And what do you know of the patient? How old? Is he military? Do you have a name?" He sighed, shaking his head and waving her off. "Never mind, hurry, I get it. I'll see you there, go."

She'd rushed out the door the moment he agreed, Dozer racing at her side. Thankfully getting to the Goblet was a mere blink, and another still to get to the apartments. Even better, she was a familiar enough face to ignore. Most people knew the blue duskwight with her little terrier who went from clinic to clinic, or chased him around the pool. So it meant nothing to simply wave as she meandered with the little alibi to the rear of the building. She lingered there while Dozer sniffed at the sand, ushering him away from the threatening cactus thorns. Now and again she lifted her head to shade her eyes against the sun.

It takes... an unfortunate while for Deccan to get there, around half a bell... though that in itself speaks to how fast he was moving. The battered manacutter has to take a sweeping arc around the apartments before he can bring it down behind the building... there's actually a cleared spot of desert where he's plainly been parking it, and he does so now. He vaults out of the cockpit and jogs over to the maintenance door. Dec pauses, glancing at the unfamiliar face but... he's with Adelle, and she did say she was bringing someone, so he doesn't object, instead moving to unlock the door. "This way. Watch your step..." He waves them both in, checks the exterior, then locks it again, before moving off down the hall. After passing through what's obviously the gardeners' workshop, he moves off down a bare hallway... then another, then past some storage rooms... a low rumble almost more felt than heard indicates their proximity to the great furnaces that heat the building during the icy Thanalan nights. He comes to what looks like the door to yet another storeroom... though this one has a rather more modern looking lock on it, for all that it's nondescript, blends into the wall, and only has a single red light on it. He produces a cermet key and swipes it.(edited)

Adelle followed with some small degree of worry, and let out some of the tension in her shoulders with a breath. The air still moved around her, caressed and whispered against her skin. She could feel earth and stone surrounding them, and water bubbled through pipes and faucets. She kept her attention on her surroundings, listened as much as she was able and then... She stared at the small device in undisguised shock, and at her side Dozer scratched behind one ear. Seemingly no threat, then. "Who knows you are down here, Deccan?"

He shrugs, "The gardeners. The maintenance men. That's all. It's... well... They aren't paid that well by the building supervisor, and I offered to help them out in exchange for a corner no one was using. Everyone's happy..." And the building officials have no record of his presence. He pushes the door open into a narrow cement corridor, unpainted, lined with pipes and slowly-rusting grilles. There -is- light here, filtering through dirty, somewhat cracked windows, but it's still dim, and the rumbling from the furnace is clearly audible. It's also warm and somewhat damp.

Deccan waves the two of them in, and once again ensures the door clicks shut behind them, the light turning back to red from its brief-lived green state. "He's right around the corner here."

Adelle swept her hand forward, and at once the air began to stir. A gentle breeze lifted in the enclosed room, ushering away the promise of mildew and rot. She'd seen what a nasty bit of lingering, damp air could do in the dark: she did grow fungus as a hobby. "Hello?" She called and, after a moment - "[Hello?]"

There might have been the hint of rustling, though it stops at the sounds of voices. Deccan speaks quickly after her, "It's me, I brought help...." The voice that responds is weak, and slightly slurred. [... pyr Aurelius? Did you... find a medicus...?] Dec winces visibly when the speaker uses his title, but just makes his way around the chain link gate to where, yes, a small living area has been set up. As long as one isn't claustrophobic, it's actually fairly comfortable, with a rug, a large cot, a low table with some few personal things on it. It's also occupied by the slight figure of a young man, his blue hair damp with sweat and his color... somewhat hard to determine, actually, in the dim light. It's not enough to conceal his bruise-darkened eyes though, or the unpleasant scent of someone with grave issues. To his credit, Deccan does seem to have propped the windows open here to let in the dry desert breeze, but it hasn't done much for the temperature, only the humidity. The air movement brought by his visitor does seem to help. [Leth, this is Adelle. You're going to have to trust her, even if her methods are unfamiliar. All right?]

"Sea and skies..." She muttered, and all doubt and unease was gone. She hurried forward and bowed as quickly as she could while still being polite. Her Garlean was out of practice and oddly accented to even her own ears. "[I am Adellenne. A Conjurer, but I know healing methods you will be comfortable with. This is my Second,]" she gestured to Silas. "[What happened? I need to know details so I use as little magick as possible.]" Her gaze drifted to Deccan. "Fresh water, boiled, and a lantern with an exposed flame." Adelle spun her hand in a lazy circle and drew in more fresh air through the window. The breeze smelled of spices and heat and sand and - distantly - the promise of a rain shower. "And clean bedding."

"I just changed it this morning," he protests, a little defensively. He -has- been doing his best to care for the youth, and there's a basket of soiled linens shoved up next to a stack of crates to back up his protests. "But... uh. I can probably scrounge up another set, just a moment..." Dec sidles around Silas and goes in search of sheets and the other items. The young man on the cot is obviously beyond the point of really caring who's asking him questions, and is probably just doing his best to stay awake and coherent. [We were ambushed on patrol... I couldn't really even see where they were coming from, it all happened so fast. I took a few arrows in the fight, but... I didn't think it was that bad... at first... they were only arrows...] He sort of trails off into a mumble, then forces himself awake again. [I was in the medical bay... when, um.] He stares at the ceiling for a bit. [... pyr Aurelius sort of, um. There was some kind of attack or something, haywire magitek armor units... I don't know what happened, but the next thing I knew, pyr Aurelius was running out of the Castrum with me. I... he said he was rescuing me...] Leth may or may not be sure this is what happened.(edited)

Adelle explained each step as she did it. She checked for fever, checked his pupils for a basic response, quickly unbound the bandages and even just how much give his skin had to it. "My first thought is cellulitis. This is not poison, it would show in his eyes and gums more than this. Likely just an infection, but very deep." She murmured to Silas, and half to herself. "[Breathe deeply for me, please.]" Adelle was already rummaging through her bag for what appeared to be a simple wooden tube. The elezen worked smoothly but quickly, and all the while slipped back into cooling the room and freshening the air.

Leth seems a bit happier just with the gentle drop in temperature, but it's small improvement. Unbinding his wounds at least proves that Deccan is at least well-skilled in field medicine; they're all packed well with gauze and while they could stand changing at this point, the dressing is probably only a couple of hours old. Still, the wounds are ugly; bloodless in the center, surrounded by halos of bruise-black and scarlet. It's the beginnings of tissue necrosis, although it seems his caretaker's efforts have held off the worst of it. The young soldier makes a few quietly distressed noises as she examines him, but he's too strung out at this point even to complain loudly. Deccan returns some time later, with a couple of (mismatched) sheets and one of the gardeners' lanterns. He hands these to Silas, who is a pair of apparently unoccupied hands, then goes to boil some water. Fortunately... that's not a big deal; Dec is a severe coffee addict, and there's a giant magitek pot in the other... well... 'room' is probably inaccurate, but. 'Space' will do.

Silas sets the lantern within Adelle's reach, but not so close as to be in her way. His grim silence breaks as he sighs, shaking his head at the sight of the wounds. "What in the hells are they teaching nowadays" he mutters to himself, low under his breath as he opens his own supply case, taking out what appears to be a heavily modified imperial shadow's visor, putting it on and playing with several dials on the side, the lenses on the front beginning to glow. " I hope you've something in mind Adelle. I've not got much in my arsenal for shite like this what ain't basically a knife."

Adelle looked at her gloves and stripped then from her hands, then pushed up her sleeves. The roping network of burn scars was on full display now. "Break a window, I need as much air and access to...to everything as I can possibly get. Silas, we need to cut away the dead tissue before I do anything with Conjury. If Garlean medicine could not save this man, then it means traditional means will not work." She reached into her bag and withdrew a vial of swirling purple liquid flecked with unfortunately recognizable pieces of morbol vine. "[I am going to do what I can, but it will hurt. Without my help you are more likely to die than not. Am I being clear?]" She held the vial out to him. "[This will make you sleep without dreams while we work.]"

Deccan returns with what's obviously a paint can, albeit one that's been thoroughly cleaned. Steam curls from the top as he sets it down on the low table by the head of the cot, next to the lantern. That done, he moves back to sit on a crate near the boilers out of the way, watching them. He does seem to be watching Silas more than Adelle... probably because he's got that visor on. For his part, Leth just nods vaguely; he's plainly having visible difficulty staying conscious, his violet eyes drifting closed despite obvious effort to the contrary. He -does- shoot a glance toward Deccan, as if confirming that this is all right, but eventually disengages a hand from under the sheet to take the vial and down it. Apparently he's not too sick to make a really disgusted face, though. "....ugh!" [What was in that st...mmngh...] Well, so much for 'barely conscious'.

Adelle reached out the moment he began to slump, familiar with the potency of her sedatives. The next moment she was laying him back and set Silas with the task of cutting away what was left of his clothes. "We need to cut away the necrotic tissue. It is already setting in, and combined with the fever he has very little time left. I can feel it, even without reaching out. I will be using Conjury on him but...as little as possible." Vials and bottles were withdrawn from her bag as she cleaned the wounds as well as her hands, and a sharply sterile smell filled the small space. "We cut away the tissue here, here and here. There, as well. Surgical debridment. Once the diseased flesh is removed I mean to use Conjury to..." She heaved a sigh and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "I mean to use Conjury for his fever and the infection in his blood. The moment I pull out my cane there is a vial of amber colored liquid with a pink label that you need to force down his throat. I used it to treat aether sickness in the past. It should keep him from going into shock." The elezen looked to Deccan. "After that, I have other treatments I can provde you that will help him recover. We get him through the surgery, keep him from slipping into shock, and we should be in the clear. I think he would prefer aether sickness to a coma or losing any limbs."

Silas cut away the youth's clothes, and turned back to his supplies. He pulled out what once was the core of a magitek bit, rotating it in his hands until he found the right side, activating a thin line of light which he passed around his hands and, rolling up his sleeves, his forearms. "How steady is your scalpel, Adelle?" He lifted the bit into the air, setting it floating, the light still beaming downwards. "If you want to save your energy for the fixing, I can do the cleanup. I've got an extra vial in my bag for y' as well, in case it's more'n you're expecting."

Deccan just shakes his head. "Do what you have to do," he rasps quietly. "Honestly... aether sickness passes, and I at least know how to deal with it. Better some fugitive malaise than... dying slowly on a cot in a warzone because your medicus has better things to do with his time..." His tone remains soft, but tinged with bitterness. A glance to the man standing nearby, then back down to the wounded soldier. Distractedly, he fumbles at a pocket in his coat with shaking fingers, then seems to clamp down on the habitual behavior and lowers his hand. Not that it stops twitching. "I just wish I could've done more for him," he mutters.

"Steady. This sun is fine so far, but I would appreciate having my strength reserved for the finer sealing of blood and organs. I have some concern that the infection is heading towards his heart." She glanced briefly at the bit and offered a wry smile before her gaze lingered on Deccan. "Take a few steps back, please. Once we start working I will need to be monitoring him fully and cannot worry about where you might be standing." She commanded Dozer to lay down toward the entryway, well out of sight and reach, then returned to Silas. "Ready when you are."

Deccan grunts softly. He'd thought he was out of the splash radius, but... he drops off his crate and moves back past the chain link gate before finding another crate to park on. It seems he still wants to watch... probably unsurprisingly.

"He should be fine," Adelle urged Deccan as she looked once more over the wounds. "Silas and I work well together, and I have yet to lose a patient. I even managed to sew the entirety of a man's fingers back to his hand. They even work." Hopefully the words were a comfort. The elezen sterilized the surgical tools she'd brought along, and laid them carefully on the nearest surface. At least she knew what she was doing.

Deccan nods a little, his gaze once more flicking over to Silas. HIs expression drifts thoughtful for a moment, brows furrowing, but then he seems to just shrug whatever it was off and move on. Not for the first time (or likely the last), he goes for his coat pocket... only to once more stop himself. Instead, he just stuffs his hands under his arms. A slight nod, "I figured," he says quietly. "Milloux wouldn't have suggested I speak with you if she didn't think you were good...." He glances out the dirty, slightly cracked window at the desert beyond. After awhile, he adds softly. "....Thank you for agreeing to help."

It was easy for Adelle and Silas to fall into the usual rhythm of surgery. The air continued its steady whirl around the room as it kept fresh air moving in the small space, and the light from Silas' bit cast a bright enough glow to work without difficulty. They worked in tandem with one another - passing tools, cleaning skin, adjusting position - like a well oiled machine. The lack of humidity in Ul'dah barely left enough sweat for her to bead on her brow. She could almost feel the infected pockets of flesh be removed, felt the grip of the fever loosen...Adelle kept her eye on the wounds and the moment she felt they were clear, she thrust her cane over the man's body and stretched out her hand. A new ethereal light flooded the narrow chamber. She could see it even with her eyes closed. There! There was the worst of it! If she could just... Adelle clenched her hand as though she'd crushed something in it. "I-I think...I think that should do it."

If nothing else, the young soldier is... above all... young. And with youth comes a certain degree of resilience and vibrance of life. It was still bad... another day or two without direct care and the likelihood of sepsis and organ failure would have been nearly unavoidable. But care he received, and his body... his aether, still present even if displaying that curious stubborn inertia that his people's do... actually seems to respond without unexpected resistance as she draws out the poisoned aether that remains after the poisoned tissue has been excised. He's going to have some nasty scars, but at least their area is comparatively small. All this while he hasn't stirred, still sleeping the dreamless sleep of the excessively drugged, but his fever-sweat is already starting to dry rather than being replenished. Deccan, for his part.... just watches. He notes the bit, notes the procedure... but says nothing; barely even moving. In truth, he seems a man to whom watching in stillness is... if not natural, then carefully trained. There's not even any sound from him until she speaks. "He'll... recover?"

She staggered back with a nod and the foul taste of rot at the back of her throat. "I have two bottles of a tonic you can give him over the next few suns. No more than one spoonful every four bells, but the fever will break and he should be back to his usual self in no time," Dozer finally approached - the little dog left his commanded place to set a paw on her foot. She looked down at him and sighed, then withdrew a bottle of white pills from her pocket. The Elezen swallowed one dry. "I should be going. If he does not wake by noon tomorrow, get an ammonia capsule and break it under his nose. That should work."

The big blond Garlean nods a little, looking between the two, then rummages a card out of his pocket and a pencil. He scrawls a pearl number on the back, then slides off his crate to offer it to the healer. "I don't have much," he says quietly, looking between her and her associate, "But... I owe both of you. If you ever need anything... information, contacts, even my rifle, for all that I'm not what I was anymore... don't hesitate to call me. Okay?" The card is for the Shroudrose Teahouse... a cream colored rectangle with awfully floral and feminine lacework printed all over it. The pencil marks on the back are rough and dark, as if he had trouble controlling the pencil, but they're legible.

She reached out to take the card, and offered him a small smile. "Information and contacts might be helpful, actually. We will be in touch. I would like to come check your ward within the next few suns, if that is permissible. Unless you have another healer you work with at the Teahouse?" Adelle pocketed the card without a second glance. "If not, just watch for the brightening of his eyes or a return of a fever. You did a fine job keeping him alive. If not for your help, he likely would have died well before we arrived. It is more likely than not that you saved his life."

Deccan nods again. "...Of course. Just ping me and I'll let you in. The...ah. maintenance guys won't let you in otherwise...." A pause, then he looks a little wry, "Well, unless you pay them to. Anyhow..." He trails off, looking at the pale figure on the cot, "... I'll be sure to keep a close eye on him. And give him the tonics when he comes to. "Ah... there is one healer," he admits, "But she's been very busy lately and I haven't seen her in some time. Family business, I think." He ventures a slight smile, "Oh and... if you come by sometime, order whatever you like and tell whoever's on the counter that it's on me. I still haven't gotten them to add bagels to the menu, but they keep telling me it's not -that- far off..."

"I will certainly take you up on that. As soon as he wakes enough to move, have him sit up for a bit and change the sheets. Conjury can make things heal almost too quickly, and we do not want him forming anything that will not flex with his movements." She gave him one last smile. "You did well, Deccan. Get some rest." Adelle scooped Dozer into her arms. "We will go without being noticed. I promise."

Deccan offers her a slightly wry smile, "I will. It... won't be the first time I've dealt with physical therapy to counteract keloid contraction." He sighs, moving aside so they can go. "Thank you again...." A glance back to the figure on the bed, "... though we've both got a long road ahead."

#RP Transcript #ffxiv #Balmung RP #Deccan Aurelius #Leth'aron Drace #Adelle #Silas

6 notes · View notes