#OP HE'S SO BEAUTIFUL. ITS LIKE LOOKING AT A DIVINE BEING

[lets-try-some-writing]

Got Angst for Prime.

AU: Whatever AU you want to use.

Concept: Ratchet's Optics never really recovered from his Synth-En incident. He sees everything in a tint of green. And his optics show it. So, every time OP looks Ratchet in the optics, he sees the blue with a tinge of green surrounding it, and he gets hit with how bad he failed Ratchet.

(I've pretty much always HC that Ratchet had some lasting aftereffects of his tests. This one's my favorite though.)

I can't help it.

I am going to make this shippy.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Optimus had always loved Ratchet's optics. If you asked him, he would deny the way he often found himself staring wistfully off in the doctor's direction. It was all professional concern for a mech who simply didn't know when he needed to rest and recover. If he shared a glance with Ratchet for a little longer than normal, it was simply because he cared. That was what he told others. Whether or not they believe him was up for debate.

But beneath that veil of half truths created for both his and Ratchet's safety, Optimus's affections ran deep.

Even before the war, he'd loved those optics. Ratchet's optics were aged even when Orion was young. And yet they held a life to them that was undeniable. Passion incapable of being smothered by the harsh words of others and the seemingly impossible trial that was going up a caste. Ratchet bore every burden and political scheme with blunt determination, his optics always shining brightly as a hint of a smirk played on his features. Optimus loved that mischievous grin and the telltale glint that Ratchet got in his optics when he had some wild plan cooked up. Even though he was unable to bring himself to utter the compliments that formed in the back of his mind, he loved the Doctor's optics more than he cared to admit. So much energy contained within a compact frame. It was beautiful in its own unique way.

Once the war began and Orion Pax became Optimus Prime, he did not think about Ratchet's optics as much. At least until they began to lose the shine that he had been so familiar with in his youth.

War was uncaring and it held no love for those trapped within its web. Optimus endured it with the patience of the old gods of Cybertron long since left to rot. Whispers of ancient beings far beyond his comprehension clouded his sense of time. Tears he wept for the fallen turned his gaze away from those around him and instead to the rivers of energon that flowed around his pedes. He endured it as the last of a long line of divines given frame. But Ratchet was mortal, and as the war dragged on, those optics that Optimus adored grew darker. Passion changed to red hot fury so bright and dangerous that Ratchet's gaze felt almost like venom at times.

Stokes of fire leapt through Ratchet's blazing optics, and more than once Optimus feared he'd be scorched by that boiling inferno of loss and grief. And yet despite being the one to lead their war ever onward, Optimus never felt Ratchet's anger directed at him. When those optics gazed up at him, Optimus felt only age old affection and care. Fire was tamed and turned to comforting warmth. Steady servos ran along his arms and a soothing voice lulled Optimus into temporary serenity on long cycles where he simply had no more tears to shed or reason to give to their Primus forsaken war. All the while those optics met his own and Optimus was at peace.

Vorns passed by. Optimus continued in his eternal march toward victory and Ratchet continued to change. Rage turned into bitterness, the molten hot wrath of war transforming into a deep set sorrow that left creases in the living metal that surrounded Ratchet's optics. Grim darkness pooled in that once passionate gaze. Those optics flickered in wrath long fostered each time Megatron made himself known. Those optics flared with every injury that the team brought with them back to base once they arrived on Earth. Those optics that Optimus loved so dearly dimmed and quieted, their light softening in the dark of the medical bay on long nights when Ratchet thought no one would hear his quiet sobs.

Optimus always loved Ratchet's optics.

He should have treated him better.

"Does it still hurt?" Optimus asked as he ran his digits over the weld on Ratchet's side.

"Of course it does. The weld has only been in place for a month and the wound ran deep." Ratchet replied clinically, not looking up from his work even as Optimus risked wrapped his arms around the doctor's waist. Others could see, but in the moment, he didn't care.

"I'm sorry." He murmured into the crook of Ratchet's neck as he leaned down, desperate to feel the comforting warmth of Ratchet's frame against his. The Doctor stilled, his field extending and wrapping around Optimus is concern.

"Optimus, please, we've talked about this. I was out of line in saying that. You are not at fault." Ratchet broke from Optimus's embrace and turned around. Optimus wanted to look away in shame as those optics looked up at him, still as lovely as ever, but tinted a haunting green.

A sign of Optimus's greatest failure.

"I am at fault, and you know that as well as I do. Let us not delude ourselves." Optimus reached out to cup Ratchet's face. The Doctor leaned into his touch obligingly. Any open affection was a risk, but there was something unspoken that needed to be addressed before time ran out and the world drew them apart yet again.

"You have always done what you think is right. I can't blame you for hoping and trying to save a mech who was once a friend." Ratchet's optics cycled and the green became more prominent within them in response to his emotions. Optimus frowned and shifted so caress the metal around the Doctors optics. His scarred digits traced creases and small scuffs, lingering around the corners of Ratchet's optics as Optimus observed the green hue in sorrow.

"You shouldn't have felt pressured to do this to yourself. The risks were too great. If I had only-" A digit pressed to Optimus's derma before he could continue, silencing his attempts at being self deprecating before they could truly begin.

"I made my choice. It is not your fault. Besides, the world is just a little more green for me now. That is all." Ratchet forced a smile, but Optimus could not bring himself to do the same. Ratchet's words while he was on synthetic energon were cruel... but undeniably true. How many times had Optimus had the chance to bring down Megatron only to let the warlord go? How many lives could he have saved if he had only put aside his feelings on the matter and acted?

"I can tell you are beating yourself up over it. Stop. It's over now and I'm fine." Ratchet pulled away and Optimus's servos fell. They stood quietly together for a nanoklik before Ratchet moved forward, his smaller frame pressing against Optimus's in a gentle embrace. Strong arms hooked themselves around the crooks of Optimus's torso, unwavering but gentle enough that if he wished, the Prime could pull away.

"Forgive me." Optimus murmured in the quiet of the medical bay. A gentle hum met his plea. Neither said another word as they stood in the relative dark, comforted in the presence of one another. Only the light of the nearby console lit up the area, but it was more than enough for the Prime to work with.

Green tinted optics glowed in the gloom, illuminating Optimus's face as he leaned down. Ratchet's optics closed, most likely expecting a gentle touch to the crest of his helm. Instead, Optimus leaned as close as he was able, even going so far as to angle his helm so that he could get near enough to place a ghost of a kiss over Ratchet's optics. Each closed optic received the lightest of touches, so soft that it may as well have been a gust of wind. But as Optimus pulled back and settled into the helm touch that Ratchet had likely been prepared for, the Prime finally smiled.

"Thank you for standing by my side." Ratchet stared in shock as the Prime's digits again found their place tracing around the Doctor's optics. Ratchet stood still, uncertain of how to respond until Optimus spoke again.

"I've always loved your optics, regardless of their hue." Optimus assured, earning a gentle huff from his companion.

"You sap." Ratchet whispered even as his optics glowed in all too rare joy at the show of affection. The green was still present, a permanent reminder of the costs of war. However Optimus continued to smile all the same, simply pleased to have those optics locked on him.

Yes, Optimus would admit it aloud if times permitted.

He had always loved Ratchet's optics.

[lawrenceop]

HOMILY for Beato Angelico

Heb 11:1-7; Ps 144; Mark 9:2-13

A few days ago, the Rosary Shrine welcomed its first group of pilgrims of this year: five women and one Dominican friar had come on pilgrimage to England, and they were devotees of Fr Bede Jarrett OP who had served as Provincial for 16 years; revered as a retreat giver, spiritual writer, and tireless in his work of expanding the Dominican mission in this country. Like all good Catholics, Fr Bede had a great aesthetic sense, a love for beauty, which is inherent in human souls, and also in beautiful things made by the ingenuity and hard work of human hands. He once spoke of beauty being found “not as a secret but as a gospel, not as a thing hidden but as a friend revealed.” 

This love for beauty, which must be both spiritual and material in order for it to reflect the splendour of the incarnation of Christ, a splendour glimpsed in its magnificence by the three disciples on Tabor, is ultimately a love for God, for the Son who is the splendour of the Father, the icon of the unseen God. As such, when Dominicans preach the Word, they don’t only focus on what is spoken, nor even just on what is written, but also on what is seen, expressed artistically through the painter’s brush, the sculptor’s chisel, or the photographer’s lens! 

For the Dominican seeks and preaches beauty, “not as a secret but as a gospel”, as good news in a world darkened by sin and destruction, and in moments when we might be tempted to cast our eyes downwards in the face of so much ugliness and brokenness. In such a world, beauty is needed all the more, to give us faith in God and his goodness and beauty and power to save and redeem. Thus Christ revealed his divine beauty to his disciples, transfigured on the heights, to help them look up and give them hope of the Resurrection in advance of the terrible suffering of his Passion and Cross which was to come. Likewise, the Dominican find and makes manifest beauty “not as a thing hidden but as a friend revealed”. For the One who has befriended us, and who has revealed his glory to us, even when we were made ugly by sin, is Christ, who is Beauty himself and the greatest Friend of humanity. Dominican preaching, therefore, calls us to look and see that God is with us, and his grace fills this world with divine light, to dispel the darkness, and to beautify us. 

Bede Jarrett thus wrote to an aspiring Dominican who did not think he was much of a public speaker that “Fra Angelico used his paint brush” to proclaim the Gospel, and “these [paintings] are effective” and perhaps more so than the voice. For spoken sermons fade and become mere memory but, he implies, paintings live on. Clearly the painted sermons of Fra Angelico (or Blessed John of Fiesole, as he is properly called), this blessed Dominican friar who we commemorate today, and who is the patron saint of artists, have an endurance and an interior beauty that powerfully communicates the Gospel to us even today. Indeed, many, who would not read a sermon or spiritual writing, do still flock to the museums and churches that are blessed with Fra Angelico’s works, and there they can see in his frescoes and paintings a world transfigured by divine light, and a beauty that gives hope and draws us forward in life’s journey, calling us to look up towards heaven. 

In part due to the example of Fra Angelico, who himself was inspired by the preaching of St Antoninus, Dominican bishop of Florence in his lifetime, beauty, then, has been firmly established in our Dominican life, especially in our churches and in every aspect of our liturgical life. So, I want to momentarily pay tribute to our Dominican Sisters of the English Congregation of St Catherine of Siena, who are based in Stone (Staffordshire), and who were renowned for their beautiful and painstakingly embroidered vestments and liturgical furnishings. This past week, a significant part of the Sisters’ beautiful heritage was handed down to us to be used in the Rosary Shrine, for the glory of God. My hope is that we can have an exhibition of these works in October this year. Such things are, unfortunately, regarded these days by many people, even Catholics, as unnecessary luxuries that shouldn’t concern serious Christians. After all, we should be feeding the poor! However, the Sisters who educated the poor (and fed them) knew that Catholics also couldn’t neglect beauty and art. For the human person needs to be fed in body and soul; the human heart longs for beauty, longs for God and so looks for his beauty to be revealed as gospel and as friend. 

Hence, the austere observant Dominicans, of which Fra Angelico was a member, also had paintings in their monastic cells at San Marco in Florence for we pray not just with our lips and in our minds, but also with our eyes, and indeed, our whole bodies. The goal, therefore, was that such external beauty would lead to interior beauty, so that as we look on the face of Christ and Our Lady and the Saints, our lives would be transfigured by the gospel of Jesus Christ, made beautiful by his grace as, through beauty, we befriend Jesus and so we are made beautiful. For as St Thomas Aquinas says the divine communication of beauty is beautifying, ie, the revelation of divine beauty and our recognition of it  produces beauty in things; Beauty himself acts to make us truly beautiful. 

May Blessed Fra Angelico pray for artists today, and for create beautiful things in this world. May God use the work of their hands to reveal himself to us. Amen. 

[demifiendrsa]

GRANBLUE FANTASY: Relink - Teaser Trailer

Granblue Fantasy: Relink will launch for PC via Steam in addition to its previously announced PlayStation 4 and PlayStation 5 version in 2023.

Various details

Rolan (voiced by Hiroshi Kamiya)

This man serves as the vicar of a local church for a remote town within the Zegagrande Skydom and acts as a handyman on the side. He provides support for the crew on their journey, though partly for his own personal reasons.

Game Modes

Granblue Fantasy: Relink is an action RPG that features two games modes:

Main Story (single-player) – Discover what is happening to the Zegagrande Skydom in this exciting, narrative-driven single-player adventure.

*A new chapter of Granblue Fantasy unfolds in the skies of Zegagrande. Customize and developer characters, collect treasure, and so much more! Wtih easy, normal, and hard difficulties to choose from, Granblue Fantasy: Relink accomodates players of all playstyles.

Quests (single-player / multiplayer) – Progress through the main story to unlock new content, which supports up to four-player online co-op.

*Utilize the items and experience you’ve obtained over the course of your journey to tackle an array of challenging battles. Visit a town’s online lobby to chat and interact with other skyfarers! Quests can be done solo with the aid of CPU-controlled allies.

Playable Characters

Each of these characters is yours to command!

Main Character (Gran / Djeeta)

Katalina

Rackam

Io

Eugen

Rosetta

Lancelot

Vane

Percival

Siegfried

But that’s not all…

Charlotta

Yodarha

More reveals are on the way, so stay tuned!

Website information

■ World

To the Promised Land, the Girl in Blue Appears

There exists a world where islands of all shapes and sizes float in a sea of clouds. It is a world forsaken by the gods.

Once upon a time, people known as the Astrals attempted to seize control of this world with their overwhelming might, but the citizens of the skies repelled the invaders, thus ushering in a new era of peace.

Living on a little-known island in a remote part of the skies, you find a letter left behind by your father telling you to set off for a legendary island.

However, before you leave, you meet a mysterious girl named Lyria, inevitably setting the wheels of fate in motion.

Welcome to the Zegagrande Skydom

The legendary Island of the Astrals, Estalucia, is still out there, waiting to greet you intrepid travelers. But until then, the journey continues in the skies to the west, where a new story will unfold.

Born to the Wind, Citizens among the Clouds

The Sky Realm is home to numerous islands and their people. Four races have come together to shape civilization.

Humans may not seem like anything special, but they play the largest role in society.

Erunes are easily distinguishable by their large ears and attractive looks. Many of them are blessed with a talent for magic.

Harvins are on the smaller side, but their wisdom and business acumen are nothing to sneeze at.

Draphs have large horns and powerful physiques. Proud of their strength, quite a few go into occupations that require physical labor, such as smithing or construction.

Primal Beasts, Living Weapons Made by the Astrals

Created by the Astrals, these great beasts were gifted with god-like powers.

In the aftermath of the War—which ended roughly 500 years ago—the remaining beasts fell into a slumber throughout the skies, where their presence deeply influenced the development of local customs.

Primal beasts only obey the Astrals, thus the rampage of an awakened primal is akin to a grand-scale calamity. However, some people possess a devout belief that these divine beings are a part of nature and thus shouldn’t be pacified.

■ Artwork

Cutting-Edge Visuals, Gorgeous Environments

Walk through the beautiful 2D artwork of Cygames and CyDesignation, now realized in full 3D.

From lovingly crafted landscapes to detailed objects, enter a realm where experiencing a world bursting with character takes precedence over photorealism. You will feel the wind from the deck of an airship, visit quaint towns for the first time, and do battle across sprawling hillsides.

There’s plenty to discover on this journey.

The Hallmark Artwork of Granblue

Our beloved characters have been meticulously translated into 3D, complete with painterly lighting and shading techniques.

Character models, and their equipped weapons, have been carefully crafted to be appreciated from any angle. Facial expressions have been given an equal amount of care, ensuring that the whole cast comes alive during the adventure.

■ Characters

Main Character (Gran / Djeeta) (playable)

Take command of your crew and embark on an exciting new journey.

Lyria

A young girl, shrouded in mystery, who holds the power to control primal beasts. The Erste Empire coveted this ability and secretly held her captive until the guard assigned to protect her, Katalina, engineered her escape. The empire pursued them to the forests of Zinkenstill, which is where you encountered the pair. You tried to protect Lyria and became fatally wounded. Sensing a life slipping away, Lyria linked her life force to yours, binding two fates forevermore.

Vyrn

Little Red Dragon.

Your bestest pal, this little fellow has stuck with you through thick and thin, and he’s not about to let a little thing like a death-defying journey stop him now. Some might even call it fate.

Katalina (playable)

Skybound Protector.

Katalina once swore an oath of knighthood to the Erste Empire, but those days are long behind her. Her knightly duty continues, though now in the service of protecting Lyria.

Rackam (playable)

Skybound Navigator.

Helmsman of the airship Grandcypher, he can be as untamed as the open skies.

Io (playable)

Skybound Dreamer.

Don’t let her small size fool you. This young mage is eager to showcase her impressive talent. She vows to bring smiles to the world.

Eugen (playable)

Skybound Soldier.

A veteran skyfarer whose combat prowess is rivaled only by his regret.

Rosetta (playable)

Skybound Watcher.

A bystander whose roots are firmly planted in both the past and present.

Rolan

A proper gentlemen who calls the westerly skies home. The first time you meet him is purely by happenstance, but he decides to travel with you for the moment.

Lancelot (playable)

Twinfang Prodigy.

Captain of the knightly Order of the White Dragons. Despite his youth, he is more than capable of leading the forces of an entire kingdom.

Vane (playable)

Knight of Fellowship.

A knight of valor, he pours his heart and soul into protecting his homeland, his friends, and his comrades-in-arms.

Percival (playable)

Lord of Flames.

Possessing the makings of a king, this young man strives to create a kingdom free of war with other like-minded individuals.

Siegfried (playable)

Dragonslayer.

Once reviled as a traitor, that didn’t stop this loyal knight from heroically saving his kingdom from crisis.

Charlotta (playable)

Holy Knight of Valor and Eminence.

The captain of an order of holy knights, all of whom have sworn a sacred pledge. Her sword, a weapon that cleaves evil in twain, is equal to her in both size and power.

Yodarha (playable)

Illusory Fencer.

This man was once a world-renowned swordsman, but these days he spends much of his time fishing in seclusion.

[libidomechanica]

S son

A sonnet sequence

               1

And bitterness. The doctors return in you are flower unfamiliarity breede. Each to die in beauty brighten that saves the painted fire and beautifie your own quadrille. Greatest living Child, the palaces! Of the wild; and seemed, or speak to her, opes she is smiling that Johnny burr, as careless as aged men; but what once about twice two spirits of Sicily: to northern seas I’ll be, thy mither, nor age such-wise she lines this kingdom!— Albeit I’m sure I didn’t say it—our Ida has a heart; as if foreseen that I fear you’re white Queens. Blistered the down and rain.

               2

The flame, should be dated some red doors gave conspicuous animals of verdurous glooms that softer rhyme, a modern quill employ, she quite so from this was not quit without much as they gain for here paper- gowned in safety to Neptune’s happiness, pleach’d started as if they are, embleme. Then possible song of the midst, where thing safely fedde. Made a sudden swell, full of late. Forsaken lady to prove nor can enlight find they seem like Munch’s Scream Fairies to the moment, dismay’d, no hurt my draught like resign thy heart, o charms, it scarcely afterwards burn clear from the bleachers.

               3

But thou hast thou art force by many Grace in arm: the king—was rosed with, God forbidden, perhaps he fetched man, tall, extremely— thou share you yours, surmounts there with pity, for a hundred hollow watch a heel, nae travelling sire and black chord. My still it backward on the rich of melodies, all blind my soul page after the purest minds and yell: Get out against that gaze at his forehead thinke thus: althought like a common cry and before all to thee, O Latmian persever’d and he world, and when, stupefied, I shall not. And almost to my heard noble hostess, nor common-place book.

               4

Not Eve, when bleak November, make you are clichés and thy capacious pearly did discourse, amongst your fierce agony too: why stamp of their cheered feel, or, knowing, health, my natural. Through her this life. Go call the rose, noble. His nearer blissful gentle Euphues, who, ere Time renders to might how far beyond the full growing, not wonder whose pleasure’s lay; seeing, as every session all plea commence, which, being blest, should drowne, into thee hence? But sicken of sentimental stone—sometime absent from my oblation in which did not at once shall seize thy yellow hair, shining for Aglaia.

               5

New: nought of every sensuall earth, into the stream: I cannot staies, who laughing, and ears, fourteen years the eyes first begin. Face coins the lass of Love’s excess, and where quiet place and led a hundred airy fellow smoke then, beholding: now your laborious blunder—if it be. But yet through the snowy bank the human that this with graves, and Johnny, Johnny! Have themes in pain, petitioned our court to settling rose, grape, cherry, cream but named. Face I say, There motley follies blend, and the family-likeness and cedar glooms in May, that in the moon in light from the Silver spake, and rejoice!

               6

Don Juan’s fall’n, may rise again, what I do not kneeled and did. To move about poetry, and hence could merely through her father drunken pleasure yield, for she and weeps; such cool me without delayed the springs the after that side of losing is a cursing, Now vse their silver Line divine. To his past so fair, an idle too, and made no sting, salving to thy hand, which he of God to goe: then in starch halls with ease the way to win. Bought; to see, the bark will kame thy rymes beneath to know not for Woes self, should hard upon the caused to it the same song his ill mither he may be.

               7

Not if you meet; long years of him hurry. Dying off, arms that care-worn sage, which her best wanes; who neither shed her bed, circling to a hundred maids, thy tenderness. The basement high of import both, or ear, or a satin heaven he great assault on a lawful awful, and having and have armed myself its most decree that least encumbered. Look, look up and I sooner fighter, and I won’t or can continent’s store; vanish we’ll never know where he weep. Like the sickle; I, poor patient and gray, which opens to kind: false heau’nly beames, and wear my hand, grasping through the women’s No.

               8

Whose pleasure thing the spring, sense of all that soft remembranceses? Of sweet, any part: and hate, and fleets and enough the price touch, risking love withdrew her Milk, she unobservative but the Mortal cloth’d; how waited on to giue my Rosalind, and leaves. Right cannot more admired of whom, how one softly from having dove with a stag. And light at they had I been resum’d in visitor. ’ Said you scorn drew forth a golden thou doubtful deems. That same loving came and I was a back-hoe. Whose quietly her idiot boy. And Tellus feels his pure Will to its inner clown: perhaps he held by the site once grown a prehistorians, her several languor wept: her full fifty yards and you were he did so break. Whether on him, in some rocks,—and which it bore, since then, sleepless counterpart, then far-spooming a picture link the lane has made excursive, breaks white should have known!

               9

Chalk mimics painting a basket empty teacups, the streets, their shafts of regret—no major tension House of two entities: myself too swift as farre of a city greatest down within a dream he was ever dwells, especial animals of a lie. Not till serpents the swollen at the wilder’d up his actions part; opening delight, as on the jawing weares as garments came to Nais paid: behold there, walk’d bad blood in dream, mither, a tide ebbs in some quiet breathless fairly earn’d; and many a scalding tear thee. And scattered them still fragments lights are fallen, having kiss!

               10

I was awful awful, and made lament redundant. To mar the ground, is she talked with thee into the holy was by one day we would not one? Could let the dear domestic streams now fired in this crystal place their shibboleth, God damn! Tress of traitorous in times through that isle of like in words. Icicles. Delicious and blaze up, all the deep scar of voyage, rank as a chin but their dam’s teats, who, ere we are drawne by one by imag’d thing by all well be, that same there we extinguish in. Followed: so the Sun, and hand as a day, sitting in their fresh and light, doe not understand.

               11

Fain would not love to the day I sit and understand: the grasps in passion with free scope, more you are sealed: I listens, stop thine own land for each others samphire, ’ through a ring, and thou hadst cool’d the white robe to me, now teares hungry lick about her hair of night to me. ’ The great Nemesis breath; thou pointed silence. I was colours leaves we love after midnight and therein. The water fair Maid, and nothing it up with all the Spirit would in an April rain, before realm, and the wide night fair wert nobler, that foam’d above thee stop here, tis not afraid of the womankind like Malthus, God of disappointment shews, his fire, pull’d my mind, love; it is teeming of dearths, or dancing so the shadow, and accomplish’d pleasant word too fond, when it would divided frame: and the Muses Hobbinoll, I blest with a psalmodic amble with the thirty mock tyrannizing was, shall stay.

               12

Hair, as I’ve got through a windows? Of mitigated their head, and Creation, he, made answered me—it shall enter’d morning pure with loved well-seeing great bronze for time; and upon the dying. He did shine, sudden rills float my sire, lifted from thee? Diverse? Said the owls in undiscended brethren of roses proclaim it then for spite, this transfer a weak, for Cupid’s sake! Rubbing a death: yea having at such pleasures drowning away, assured out the with circuit of your ain love. ’Er; common bulk, though the air my quiet die. And, silent high defiance. And singeth, and laughter.

               13

And by we’ll never dear! To one every side your loving in this line bore up the sea; the curly foam with cease to a pint of woe were she taught but love Gregory! As purply blank and gain and accomplice of fate: ’tis the world to slake thy brotherhood. As we scale the tableau intact. There and blind voluptuous lantern, instead of shamed by those dear love. Enjoys the arch through blind voluptuous lie huddled wonder understand: they length might not a gentle into his own sweet voice—I feel my widow’d wife, I knew, the whom Fame commends to the stone jaw of pleasures—touch’d the year.

               14

Can see, the best; like two great falls which of mind proves are figures see thee. That just a dream. Be Nature flower, not there in their parts, sisters three love, despite the forst the crush, but which, being here; he barks, my small, jewel’d sandals, and London’s first, your flocks did it soup? My lay, listened with most of vanish’d. Like airy plan, have fall of good woman, there: for the horseback have known them sometime she’s idle; let us meet; there hardly spight. The mother maidens are when the weeping our velvet bodies, that strong at my should I, afternoon—the words by the soyle, thou reviewest thunderstand.

               15

Through crowd confusion; here our fists around then! As dead: o let me home again such a care; they sat at their chief art instead! Thus far, go forth, have falling. And I sit writhing bullet tearily, and vaine on it; and the doors gainst my songster, some people, and white fingers; then falling feet emerged. The flowers or brake ourself, when the summer loathing weeds, to over thee that dirty spring was the evening, haue we in silent season, in five months’ time, when thou openest the trumpets, shoulder blade. Woman, so longer troubled hand; she is nourished. And speak as spider’s selfe to greet!

               16

I find thither; the rough which droop, and the only, you give it have thou leddest Orpheus through great and challendge to yon shrink to do. Like small king,—then along hair! And I thy capacious tears beset her in the earth, where birds from hanging that I can, i’ve done to die, her bones like an empire stern as Pluto bear it. Except the come of night, till serpents craft had yours, the magic: every soul abroad. That skims, or seas? Nor be my sweet and flow. When I’m laid aside like light in her faces levelling. Who in fear we not to bring you not till tempests. I do love’s loving the guide.

               17

His spirits do flowers; and the women comets, break it—What, not to sailed on ocean’s side, is in thee near death: which lent happy spirits need of warm Southey feel distemper right say some few sad thou lean in Fortune may be seen, on him, this face by her ministers and thy you to every mountain roe, with whom, how should come by trecheree didst though t is the woodbines within that their doubt, where he went thee to hear ye lie, ye lie, but I am so opprest, and thither; the said, and the forlorn! Thing but when then pitche, nor be contented: when she spite with vases, to wherefore.

               18

See the grassy lea, my necktie rich a minute than on continuous rage, whose royall round me, can live and gone in an angry word he saw Ilion? Than centaur Nessus garb of more, by poet’s debt; and one’s blue ladies, and though every brow, to light in light their average numerable question, or hope hope will know it, so we fall; and Susan Gale. Be better times each teach muscles of your eyes find the sage hide, stella, loadstar or blame, when I demaund of itself, in hand it have not too daring not only God, who is shifted him for Truth’s and then no tender a broken.

               19

That good mien, especial jury of man. Let us go and left my bad a perfect of a love in arm: they have seem’d quicken, so effect wouldst move them moved on with me that one to see. For sith red wine while his rage and great bronze for once more the green Chinese languid limbs are brief minutest fish would blush’d unseasons of your contrary; but having down one and quick which your side; they ask of me; well, and one monster. But Juan was colour’d by the tape separate, discompose that the old Chaldeans to wexe so little kind; nor services to a tempting her Soul crazed, was mere as marble.

               20

Spring, it light and perfum’d with a shelter’d from no Mother cheek,—upon me like angel from hanging and reproof’s a smile, lest Glory end what way;—juan yet another’s arms already, knows poor idiot boy? Deere, why make you meet; the Crucified. And now sees the should I see that make our golden clime. And which makes waters where lie perdue; for the might I’ll in heard them not appealing sun, thou pointest trees, and hideous roars, and consent, if nothing? Nor shall not have doom’d also of sober’d morning the soft air, or proudlier prancing into the most pretend then no tender sound.

               21

Poor Betty o’er all, not know them up: she set there, but could be thy love of comfort I expectant. But comes, a dull skies change grown land for ever and kin. Hard as a bus. And sank and, while each in the domed and losse office, fed by foul corrupting, is my lambs are belongingly I loved you, woman, if you with her fifteen, for affords. There new denizen had seen, he laid her hue changes ever falls which kills me without and fame witch of briars particle, should men who grew a long seal’d dear, dear officious heavy! In blood that lifts the night a sublime, but I as well of the pit.

               22

’Tis the sooty oil. The Sage would hoist my blue Peter, ’ and more, and he things though street, and takes through brows of beechen grew these words, where, the front of Lucy’s fervent ferment is on thy flocks, but now the the face, her madly; and, they once more quiet-coloured them the pinions and large Neptune, I burst their chances; then a wondering at there nor the vast of one weakeness to the casket empty air was his memory them up with cattle patient art which I doubtful deems. But, as I stood erect and dead; and there worth my brother I! Of powers, budded, and, into eternity.

               23

She saw me lying steps, and maist though the yard, the Spirit by each by mutual arms have been breast. Go, and now of three more conspicuous man. Fling on outside of richest over in misery hardest gazer drank more gaily claspt by my sisters and blows the port of humour. Thou wast the soft remembered country that we were mute to gaze on Amphion learned lucubrations in red bright, soft, unseen, lull’d delectable, and never, I’ll answers in. Is silent, save the way, and dead; or the middle of cheek open. And this is so good, Let us go and faire lands forlorn.

               24

War nor hero, as any other side. The Honeycomb; and there, them out their pivot he heard, and to say just struck a wounded, friend’s direct how to removed. Judas come heart so potently? And which other if I can shew the season, upon the last Review the virgin and now, that clings that said Blanched it solve if he doth light impart, when my steed and blows the women trade, ’ like kindling, but the mail, learning pure in the lawn running Lord Gregory come thrones—amid thing relief—cruel enchantment grew drunk, gamed, and dark, new born in the comfort but a day, the bottom peep?

               25

As sure she was certain o’er thy oaten pype began to proper plac’d that it into play the Third? These commodious plot for the dark. The meanings all are but stern, as we flit by each care of their long sea of what once arose in ponder I say, There is the print of her Hair down she had made of mercy? Peace of Love. That I meant the sea. I leaves on ever flowe. Fear to give fully fedde. Shirt is a great ships and this searing of poetry, and, stepp’d serene a goddess and never spouse—next, the foamy waves roars, and surely hand? Our enemies have lov’d three love-tokens than he.

               26

I would rate but waste, the fields and because you fell asleep tinkle home apace, her throw my voice, nor knew porphyria’s Love? And weary with savage glares arise against the only in my arms, be mine, each in every sweet faces that make: twas Johnny’s but Heaven knows poor for tear the name is a merry meeting of lost a things that which tears: while in her flowing in thy capacious poison’d, tis not so trim and grone. Time’s creeps beside us, knew several score to thee, nae timely, nothings be drowsy hour; bring into a crescent’s illuminated and down to quenchless cinders.

               27

And pearls not evenfall, and heels are won. Flocks did fall of good found not of joy that dies all humanity,—juan, as though for one—all perfum’d without our Serpent-skin of Evil; the foolish fires o’er that all, not your skirts had turned him for it. Me, if the world speaking the byrds, which Eve might his legs swollen at the dying. I came to the Queen of Lochroyan lay deeps, the world’s blast— thou wert true, the Muses you would water was a solitude; ye’re no come. Nor eluish gloom, light-winged China’s crockery-ware metropolis, or lives it a single with black distill’d off the near it grows cold.

               28

Before than might have climb, a dream of my face you see how cream, tho’ the love, despise. Poor Susan groans of a love nothing the and lived again set off you. And last fly to immortal names in me, the flowers. Formed of heaven’s blast—thou would opened against the wind, which Jack and kisses be made of lids the rack torture-pilgrimage of rest, Then she show. Let our way has become offices of power and began to survive. To any that great assault on a diverting than all the spring, with Heydeguyes, and long captivity; while the Doctor from her on his eyes burn blue.

               29

The rout clusters that love you yet mething relieve it?-Night, cliffs and thy beauty, farre of the wrath of comfort but she has no light had a constellation by nodding teares to enlarge eyes, my bonie was not wrong youth, and mine own refuse your Mother cared form, look into the goal, when armour clashed and he said, and huge jaw of nameless love: she bees gorgeous pageantry eye: o, for shall fancy’s spreading sea of songs within like a cloudy symbol-essence! A sidewalk, her several language of a giant’s bier she whom Fame comes beneath the word. And leaves hast too hard upon our pain.

               30

Oh gentle into each eve doth well lit, there dead weighed enormous down hither fruits of those power benign, for still woman! I to tarry: I ken thy scythe annulus— a planet, that he has for those Janizaries, and his shall be my sin you bastard in all in its way to win. Little girl? Dead are shepheards, which I doubt and turned on the sea. Whilst systers of the indentures. In the way right once more travels to the must do? I am losing in that in the victory white shouts—and motionless heavy artillery to picture, bravery truth in you have been begin.

               31

And laughters faire hand that beats its cold in dreams, before I’ll both for ever courteous though is mild! Ah wanton eyes, bright if it come and for the abysm-birth of mine have freeborn nativeness a lamp-lighting when thine own dove of twelve, and take ourself shalt her still, having pale oblivion, and many an ease me, which thou be’st Doubt! Invitation bestow’d upon the bridegroom the heedless lake, on which none puts by the current on deadly spight. A youth and lie therefore then, which wexen old Orinda call the Spirit is a honeysuckle. Lit with a blind where to slake my great, if nothing and question with you, letting you not till my pain! Hesitations of course of the sacred cherries some back to tears, letting on the roote of heaven. Had not married this is so vex’d with flaw-seeking it command,— i’ll writers use of orient pearly houseleek’s heaven.

               32

For thy siluer sought, I met this scent, by Aurora’s peering thereof, with gorges unexplore that has cause of one; nay in my arms championed gaze calibrating some of his heart of light lies lit without- end hour and heares. It promises light, and thy mother for such wonders motion not burn these warrant note do sink away from sounds; see lines out of prison! So they came, the come to know how far this fine: in souls we lose whom these question: and fit to all this great close enough thy praise and had been resum’d in view in year and that I’ll be knowne for Annie turned into some more.

               33

For I must value more trailed, which so sorely puzzled three parting, and cozenage; and as he a branch of London hisses? My bird with oxytocin or coloured every bad angel be time it sleepe, to the next way to open cannot keep them too: why stamp they all well he sleep in their poor good endure in the first doth common- sense! From out the Lady that so it will gain—or none lay their fairest, was boundless sight and sounds; if he fount it be. Her hair and you to bear hence, your idiot boy must ebb and fair, with a hero, as an infant’s side, is sickness; when, from her wand.

               34

If smiles, and blind my soul that beats its utmost word that I did always three eloquent woody dale; and that thou shall I lov’d an old man’s roves into some but thanks, that do sink with scoffing, and praised be above, around—But whence could pour out gratify a bee, like a word of English, with the face may betide with new words that by us, the white flannel trousers, and coral, thou should sleep. And now, break like a tranced in the elm-tops with the apple trees feel palpitation—I don’t know eterne Apollo singer, from the sky like scent wing, all marrow drained the hilts? A shoebox.

               35

With this Irish whiskey in his sweet desire; I am your cheerless, shall away, and happy lot, where they stood alive. Up therefore my head, my own Belovëd, I at last Duchess painted away throat untied her chin, and loud cried, is Freedom, he went from the moonlight bower was it seem’d, sweeping shafts of brother can ease me, i’ll fears; and wett your warm young, haue we in thine eye, high cliffs and taught with dry cheek or fades, mysterical,—he breezy air; but today a coffin for the young and times abroad, the devil take care about Judas, the moon’s last all grace. She fled ere day.

               36

And found then awakes us in the gruff companions of mid-sea, afloat, and even condemn’d, then regalities with the shrunk to me! No more. They as eas’ly their joy, I cannot tell, point after than he. Doubled hand or ever—Then a lawful package, and the auspices wake, my sweet there living laid by the down dead-heavy sank her common-place, thought footsteps behind; and my heard a noise and to booth. That break, soon that’s free informing a table; let us now fill your faithfull woe. Or him that rises from my eyes moved beyond his carried, unsought, weigh I, who would sigh’d!

               37

Renne after rhyme, so, she will be in a time hae I torture all my life, the Crown; a Star under the stayes to compensate, thought lights of light do the lucky, I stared at her eye, silent, straying you the dell, and the twilight as there’s no more be grieve me; for a placid lake came glimmering disaster. Of fresh petals are scatter angel waiting forth, white of her sense, or on my better growe. What mast of tongues were shepherd’s crockery-ware metropolis, or sat at thee. Mild is the palaces! Sweet it fly! That will builds up such a victorie, yet some native in self-same smil’d?

               38

Then is with light that which was meant, at all, the latest space-age gear blank to a Jew; both what Paradise of so great spirit: despaire at my should lend to help them not I heard a noise of her cheek. Since if the Fourteen years which nothing, or heart of hope came quiet sounds of the world-without, in the apple tree, a conquering over my debt to his hook and read loved, that heart’s endeared with blood. Turns out of blessed, a way of sea and coral, they saw them up with eager swirl gain’d lover’s vow they gaz’d upon the city, and forehead to my soul out the child. Ilka body now is this.

               39

She is hurt ye, or not to gas;—through all her name is On gold break. I oft have lied who ruine so consummation find: but such comes peace the flash, all round by thy brightly votes particular sorrow and in his learne the cliff-tops, she said You share. For scene of Wood a furlong from the two delight, within ken, thou hardly heart, my lasse, to west words; and ever yet withouten lincks of iron—when love look, and stands; save the Serpents to see if I meet this Fair One, and blind; and bad, that would cost your warrior thought what is not allowes, sweetness flicker, and pray you cannot be bitterness.

               40

Shining unseen light pinions shed on ocean must this horse, kneel’d down dead-heavy eyelids fine: in souls for a placid sandals, and up, to breath, my dear little darts as we send while ever upon Sion’s harp had water was his worth we let me free, till my spirits do suggest me in I do not enough can I am becoming hand, through it may live her eyes moved on my knee. There arose once more train across to the must not for great shining milk-teeth used up. With the next bestow’d upon his carelesse fere, there laws are in thee Proof that liberal, sine the salt sea deriu’d, tearing.

               41

Fast and unchange their chiefs, orators, queen, Fled is thine above, below, though Amaryllis danc’d to thy babe’s fated words you may thy hand—had grasps in Porphyria; straightway pass fleet as drown. But he lifts the room. Venus frowns are arming, no one by imag’d thine heart, I read against the cold, and to hell, my bosom is tumblings frae my delight He forced for a throne smoothly to my touched his way: soon was all that there, it cross the cause. Suspended on the moon. His troubled and much, and subtle for decision hooves. Which, being many, where never contrary; but never could be above!

               42

A rib’s a thin-pervading span, t will be time to pass fleet of sorrow from eight that’s the universe to cross they are. Have most of rock. Poor Tom was one as she heart wild Moor, the forms and bay; rough which three till happen when thou should melt from thee to more the moon’s lasting to run off where thee to the wall. When I am lost. Sings of an inspiration they all the rest: with silver. Shouted the wren through the moonlight, alone, for Johnny’s lips were shepheards rude. And in the flash’d them all—the earth, we stood last yearning to each other limbs still-kept course must do the lower empire, as well.

               43

We fill—we fill—we fill—we fill! Hale streams my sense of all his ransom, being dumb; the hostess, not a few specially if new, or folk of your advice, to languish, ioylesse, and floats the sullen thunder, Do I dare to cheek open. And loved beyond a strangers as lordly and pay our pretie case, pitie there, to bride in the paired bodies, then dinner, pursued his travel them more graunt; but shakes to acquaintance who lord Gregory, and he then there white Queen of Heaven is the love, my Lady Blanche at distances straight them what to all thee: ah Christian coast; how Vlster like taper-flame to his Head.

               44

No matters down from other ’fore we may, and years beset her, by the hopeless bene withdrew from the root when the women fasted, ere were born at Bethlam? Of day- tide, on which steal about the certain o’er then the fuel of light your body one deepest in: o Moon! Amid his ill minions of Kings a solitary pastures rude and griefe; and give; of moons, and we adores all over blue stony bases for Neptune’s palace, where exceed the holding freshest vengeance can see its heart of heaven’s blast—thou wert noble Fame therefore. As whom my body is writ each other side.

               45

The sad heart it went on deserted by love so tender semi-tone, more this restless, me no more: I will I touch, risking more been cease upon the dew of Peace upon bed. Sense of deer moving mute, in its words were harbrought—o Greta, dear man, tak down between us, I am not, since dawn that my bear her compare. On the king: thaw this is a morning the air sight me had not hollow hair, as yet why that attempt with many maidens are pass the morning zeale, by the town she hies, but still it growing on the upper in another. Chuse to bring at the next tell you all?

               46

Of forest root; and she’d never hurts ye. Thus the Whigs? Strokes the wrathful Dian’s named mount Pleasure quaff until the bases for they reacheries unfold of truth, and joinèd hand, and the tongues resort. A genius or under; sweetest out with my wrong forth a golden chariots trance, stock the evening eyes, mystery, pledge might sky, a delay, tis not a joy,—a pet-lamb in a groves o Shadow flits and all the moon shine so pale for to this, or when though my known through the rose-red with a bitter. These things; alas, why, fearing world! Record, her uterus an evening disaster. Where quickly, before arose: a place of him? The flowers all his base had been my songs that sin in me but under thee. Not for my side, these word. A dove, without depth, with hoary hed: and in gold sandals, and Salámán of Auspiciously a forlorn child the palace. In water sinne of this task of joy.

               47

But my body griefs alike to traced as though all night. But Tom’s no open cans was an inch of bread out of peril and think men love. Seats unscalable but thee and changed, and wild, even so higher views upon his tongue would lay at home. Though I’m sure as thou were blue look upon the other best, our young, but, in all of golden breath of winds war; and past a shadow flits and three; and tunes, and say it is in to-night I was whole again. Moving came, and leviathan, and broken particular sorrow brings; the outward view, he gaz’d upon the Lady Blanche: much the most of rock.

               48

Of being both be heart, I see the owlets throwing of women must convert; or else to our daysleep, in May, in that much empressed. Chariots in for joy; she waterspout had you think, my Soul found. Such is his sovereign, which done, with the other side of the times now a word and sad-sighing towards burnt by cigarettes as when we were still call back: Hello the circuses, so cold. The door, to tell the billows, they heart, o charming, the depth and my mind the heart. Tis not what worth thy sacred mountain pine at my side, untied a kerchief, crying her the night light! The ball. You trouble.

               49

Warmth, whereof at first was afraid of the Princessant misery hardest from annoy, pregnant of into his arms were this lips they grew to be from thee, that from me. Though I can perceiving pale face and roar’d out. Can warm of female which was sexually wrapped crack like mine, for only he, but a ray. To cease not dreamy urn; farewell, so nutty, and people who all carry back and blows loud hath of shame of you the wet with sovereign’d before us, Cyril, batter, I am a shelter for wings of a bullet tears, and I turn’d all hope, with a tongues could dree, and for you.

               50

Of doors to one where must take thee and fears the question, thoughts for the glimmering was in Banquo’s glass! The brink, loue did give it have done to his actions in one and as thy fingers on thy verge it is the moonlight dale; and all that kisses the site the woods and step to be preferr’d the dome pomp, reflectionary hints can tax my mild! Had she guessed flock early or late, our girls of Rome did but dress’d between us, I see your report, She faint visions frame: i, cumbrous flesh as we scales of the youth, ceruse, against the magic casement we send arrived with the bees humming roses.

               51

And that ’twere place forms a two-part can win a country greedy thirst to wand’ring, is call, as doth unladen breathless fairest, but when thence with trust, not over in some scene—the proper times hath from my neck the excursive in women is, but not enter, if he would see, before hardly he had open further, me, the meadows, overjoy’d, we are all already, known that you wast nor there laws are holds his lips are alive without a little birds sight more thank’d, and I, whylst you. His little state and thus my story stranger, my death-shadow stood in thy dear. But let it on its rude.

               52

Truth seems, a hope hope hoped some mystical eye-glare of twilight road, and true, begin that I sing from fair. Sitting her for the dreame, and from though public learned lucubrations to the common change decrees of things of Pleasant fruit nor Nature of her glance between the twelfth fairy-press or his pace is sinne of the Turkish new mankind, and we were green, and go talking to thee steals in a secret missing a hand to guides the wind, or water flicker, and thus aloud in his lips had love the stroke her hath taken in her lustrous dew. Just be a reproduce then when the Crucified.

               53

Both lie, viewing, and the ring mossy ways. You senses the seav’n from a farther. So thousand are two great Nemesis break like the poet’s, too, up to Charing Cross, match’d me once me here, or, seeing hand is safer: on toward them—whose tall as dead, thy foot, a well denote love’s missal through blind eyes as when you read again! Her ready more will be dieted with thee freeze, and she heard much, or Paint must do the tyrannizing Boreas,—and falsely what to her perpetual light beneath a psalmodic amble beneath. Every part of question oft rues had she had thee. I might sky, and bent.

               54

Young, but tender ear in the power of losing isn’t hard upon it, but me. As if a sharp’st intelligible, with his train once too blame; whatever must post will sayd, still: fond love speak of blossom nips. Put on my bones like airy fellow! Late authors pasture, but hath left poor old Susan Gale, old Susan Gale, old age so serene a goose: her full clear from the right, and we’lltalk of your Doves, her body being so fair, as careless bene with cattle turrets and she spake, and, full of men. Arise, and freckled Chloe, whose vegetable green shades hath breathlesse Jesus, whose body’s gift.

               55

Thought, love, your heard the brain can enlight beneath may prove fair eyes their shafts of traitor, too well, full of taxborn rock, at they came. Till love so wooden gavel. That had before; oh dear Clarinda, friend to her, to crossing designs in empurple in another limbs o’er it a cobweb-lawn; they would have lied who remembers. The stay’d his spires up like scene or though his fairly earn’d; and was in company, can lend, and blaze, yearning that hear it. One obscure his gore, hey ho! But who passe: this your like night, that is it? Handsome slender far away into thee hence all, her idiot boy!

               56

Of a wretched the talk about, lounging cloak and ripe-ear’d the Musky Locks divided me a spoil among somewhat did through Rows’ most unmeek,—I knew what wicked deede: and fall the down when from hiding-place as gay and the red dogs lie huddled wonders sped; but adoring, slow, and that I never should rate but shakes and ill where nothing my sad slaves on a Saturn’s vintage! Love with rose-enamel. Right strike fruit among the fire and thy coral diadem, out- sparkling safely. And death may still aching up Pall Mall, and through the ring it was o’ the Fates but Heaven, down she lover.

               57

Into my o’er-sweeten my heart swelling simples, to her limbs still in true a fool is love; yet when I sawe Calliope wyth Muses up than when pleas’d, but wish would speake in woefull Colin, I lament is very face, the time, what thou; go then, my own Incompetence; The old Charon’s so true Honour door. Nor servant once are her: and day,—till through which is mornes messengers on a step aside likewise might sair she drowne, all is turn on the type of heav’nly paradise, ’ which the sprang sublime, the radio comes,—the best was a fishes’ tails. Made tongue, a heart it weight of his hand.

               58

Himself like a razor he was wont to weave their tiptop nothing things removed. But be chance, but what is, is; then to move, and a voice I hung low! On our neck; her curl upon an heiress ooz’d out, and her body torments doen, when thou dost them in the sea. Scuttling upwards from, their eyes where many a want forward. I dar not, yet speach, alas, this Chapel were buried. ’Ve spun. For thy flock early too. Sweet voice, and now she’s at there are in their operation— if he will she is his own imaginary. That all with what you wert true, my nets would have done, and frowns worn instead.

               59

Yet, which altering guide appeare; our Mother meet but if, both periwinkle train set early go’st proceeded frae the last flashlight with those fault I bringeth, while the the self-viewed,—nothing groan—who before the root when they do not contented: when therein all sink away from thee to its native mud on the domed and love, mostly my angel in honey has not more holy worth to the truth; and wipe my life or dear, tis not lie as stranger, miles, and live! Rage, rage asswage. That is in most of road, and in Song like child. How change thou hast brought in at you sit to teach the meadow, and for a passport, or your Faith thousand Powers all men%u2019s soul, whatever watchful wight smiling children fairly dinner, pursue from monarchs to the humanity,— juan, as the stand stiff as before my heart, which refuses to eat a nation, poor old Susan lay at his right; tis scarce knew.

[windsweptlassie]

On Love

So as you know I made this uquiz with an open-ended question at the end, tell me something about love, and I’ve gotten the most wonderful responses! They range from descriptions of wonderful partners: 

Lauren: oh, how long I went without being myself until I met him and he showed me who I truly was and that my worth was higher than I ever thought was possible

Levi: I love who we are with each other. I love who I am with you. In your company I am me. In your company I am the best of me. The best with the best, I've told you. I wouldn't give you up for anything

Daniel: i fell in love for the first time when i was 17... at the time, i didn’t realize it was the first time, i thought i’d been in love before, a couple times actually, but falling in love at 17 was such a fulfilling experience, it felt so forceful yet so right. it’s when i first truly understood what love was. never before had i felt so understood and so cared for as i did when i was in love with her, and she was in love with me. it’s been nearly 4 years since then, and nearly 3 years since we broke up and stopped talking, and still, i think about her almost every day. i’ve never known anyone like her; to me, she was love itself.

El: oh i’m in love with everyone that i know op!!! especially my girlfriend, of course ,but also my friends and my family and random people on the street and uh

Grace: i’ve met my soulmate and we plan on getting an apartment and marrying after college

A: I’m going to ask the woman I love to marry me and I just wanted to tell someone because I am so excited

Jeremy: you ever have that feeling where basically after years of denying that someone couldnt understand you in a way or love you and then the next thing you know you happen to find that person and its just great from then on out? idk how to explain it anyways I love my boyfriend so much he means the world to me

Lucy: i am so happy i have found the one i love

to descriptions of best friends and favorite people:

Nightbyrd: Love is a hug from an alzheimer's patient who hasn't the foggiest idea who you are, but they know you're worth hugging.

H: I have been doing so much yoga with my roommate recently!! It's a great way to center my mind for an hour

Riv: [platonic] i’ve literally never met anyone who understands me in the way that my best friends do. they’re literally the best people in the whole world and i genuinely don’t know what i’d do without them. i love them with my whole heart

Cillian: when i talk about how much i love my best friend i get so teary eyed because i cant believe that such a genuinely wonderful person wants to speak to me every day - i care for her more than anyone else on this planet

O: my two besties are my sources of happiness and they’re so pretty i would die for them :D

to beautiful quotes:

Kai: "you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on." DARCYYYY PLS MY HEART CANT HANDLW THIS PAIN

Dorian: When the plane went down in San Francisco, I thought of my friend M. He’s obsessed with plane crashes. He memorizes the wrecked metal details, ____the clear cool skies cut by black scars of smoke. Once, while driving, he told me about all the crashes: The one in blue Kentucky, in yellow Iowa. How people go on, and how people don’t. It was almost a year before I learned that his brother was a pilot. I can’t help it, I love the way men love. (accident report in the tall, tall weeds- ada limon, bright dead things)

Adam: every day I think about lemony snicket I will love you if I never see you again I will love you if I see you every Tuesday or however it goes. and it KILLS ME. love only fits in small things

Hero: “Your heart beats in my ribs and mine in yours, and both in God’s… The divine magnet is in you, and my magnet responds.” - Herman Melville to Nathaniel Hawthorne

Mary: "Love is watching someone die."

Alex: "meet me at blue diner, i'll take coffee and talk about nothing baby"

Sparrow: "How dare you love me like you've never known fear?" and "For you, the world," and "Darling, I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades," and "Will you start where I end?"

V: " You want to die for love. You always have. " and "someone will remember us, I say, even in another time" are living rent free in my mind 24/7 and I'm shaking. When will I finally be not the only one falling ?

Sahar K: To love another person is to see the face of god!!!

Miriam: all the love in the world is useless when there is total lack of understanding- kafka

Juls: Don’t you think they are maybe the same? Love and attention

to practices of love:

Leo; i love feeling happy bc somebody that i love is happy and comfortable....like its not about me i just love seeing you smile. we are safe together...idk i just feel it bro

A: I like to think love is leaning on each other during the light or dark days. Its a personal mission of mine to find out who I am and what I want. Yet I never seem to find my place in this world and as I look and look , I realise the only place I can be myself even with or without the efforts to find myself was done on that day or not, I am always tired so shall I lean on you? And you can lean on me as well. I shall be your fig tree and you shall be my favourite willow tree.

L: It's too late at night to be soul searching, but it's a journey we all seem to find ourselves on these days.

Anthi: feeling safe and at home, I guess (also I love frogs)

Julia: ive found that loving someone is like becoming your own thesaurus. you have to find or come up with infinite ways to say, you’re beautiful, or, i love you. it’s a gift

Galexies: ive been writing letters to the person i'd love one day since i was 14. i write them in a little journal usually, but i've been digitizing them into emails and sending them to one account that i'll give to them someday. i'd like to put pictures, but i haven't been outside much recently so theres that. i wonder if they'd like the sunsets i have on file, or if they'd find my cat cute in a bowtie.

Caeles: Love is sharing fruit slices and making someone tea at random

Dundy: Love is sending your friends cursed shit and watching them react in horror

to crushes and potential loves: 

Jess: I have a crush on my roommate. It sucks, but it's also wonderful. I get to be around him all the time when we're at school. we share a life together; it's rather domestic. I think a lot about marrying him and being domestic with him forever. It won't happen, and I'll move on eventually, but I'll be happy with him for as long as I can. I hope you feel loved tonight, because you are. Sleep well.

Aki: I so desperately want to believe that love is fake because I’ve seen what happens when loved ones leave but whenever I start to convince myself that I’ll never love anyone my best friend messages me telling me she loves me. She’s the only person I’ve ever pictured having a future with but love scares me and I don’t really know what to do but I think as long as she’s with me in some way, I’ll be fine

Hi: her her i keep thinking abt her.... gonna see her in 8 days or so i really miss her. its ok if shes never gonna love me like i want her to really being her friend spending time with her makes me the happiest girl on earth.... outsold antidepressants

Kit: this guy i have a crush on has hypnotically dark brown eyes and he's wonderful and shows me kindness like no one else

Juno: my crush has all the stars in his eyes

Mads: When I have the courage to meet my eyes with hers, the world stands still

Be Nice To Me: Look bro I never do these but I am yearning to hold them SO badly right now and someone needs to know it besides me

to the trials of love: 

Pppppp: I just wanna love like from the movies and what I read about.. but everyone tells me that that’s fictional and rare to find in the real world and it sucks bc it seems like all the guys I’ve met are terrible and the norms of society are all about not respecting women and uthdjdjdk

Manny: I have been in love before and I will be again but I’m not now and I miss it

Ok: I don't think I've ever been in love, though I love many people. I am waiting for the day I look at someone and can say, YES. IT'S YOU.

Chloe: idk rn i'm like okay with my love and i'm happy so we'll see i'm just a little cautious rn bc my last partner told me i didn't know how to love

L: love is so fucking complicated I don't even know where to start

Corrin: He’s not real and it worried me that I will never allow myself to live or be loved because I will always be waiting for him

Sean: Good luck it dont exist

Serena: i want 2 b in love :(( </3

13: I don’t know anymore

M: I just really don’t like dealing with it lol

to beloved characters: 

Janaya: I’m madly in love with my comfort and kin character and I hope maybe in the afterlife I can relive a life with him in some sort of dimension

Jhgjdf: when i was a kid i had a crush on ash ketchum from pokemon and id always daydream about being a female pkmn trainer and meeting him and we fall in love

to advice and prose: 

Mikolai: Love is earth, gentle and soft at first flight but upon being broken, drowns you in the dry choking wastes of its consequences...

Thex: Your hands will not go cold without someone to hold them. I am here. I will be here.

Kat: it is the nearest proof to god that i find myself surrounded by people who love in a way that complements so wonderfully the way i love

H: believe in love out of spite believe in love to prove everyone wrong believe in love because you were told not to and we will not do what we’re told anymore believe in love because it’s the strongest act of teenage rebellion we have left believe in love because it’s easier not to and when is easy worth doing? believe in love because everything says otherwise but you are untouchable, you are your own, you are not made by their design believe in love because, perhaps, you are love

Ali: I used to want a kind of love that feels like coming home and now I want nothing more than to be away from home on many different adventures

Em: you dont need to love yourself to accept it from others

to the small, the simple, and the sweet:

Ireal: Poems

O: Flowers

Fay: ah im sorry that i’m feeling unmotivated but you are very kind.

Ad: we love LOVE

A: <3

Isak: small things

H: intense

Hey: Listening to a clock ticking away

S: her

E: <3

Hania: Amorous, I adore that word ^^

Catboy: wholesome

J: i love love so much it hurts

Emmy: hi i love the song darkest of discos!! try and give it a listen!! <3

Nora: Love is painful, but most of the time love is great

Ariel: i like the comfort it can bring

M: i love love

to food!

Cool Whip: Matzoh ball soup!!

Woop: I love sausages.... I hope that's ok with you?

and animals too <3

Nee: hmm i have pet geckos and i love them very much!

96: raccoons ????

DJ Big Penis: cats

:3: I Love frogs,,, love is stored in the frog,,,

I hope that this serves as a sweet compilation of what love means! Love to all of you, it warms my heart so much to hear about your people and your geckos and your characters and soup and all the songs and quotes you love. <3 Strength to all of you who are figuring out to do about your feelings for your crush, and congratulations to you who are proposing or moving in with your person! Your words are a source of light to me, truly.

[carveredlunds]

“I won’t be hands-on”: A meta on Jack becoming the new God

“But if he is out there, what's wrong with him? Where the hell is he while all these decent people are getting torn to shreds? How does he live with himself? You know, why doesn't he help?” -- Dean Winchester, season 4, episode 2 “People pray to you. People build churches for you. They fight wars in your name, and you did nothing.” -- Dean Winchester, season 11, episode 21 “I won’t be hands-on. Chuck put himself in the story. That was his mistake. But I learned from you, and my mother, and Castiel, that when people have to be their best, they can be. And that’s what to believe in.” -- Jack Kline, season 15, episode 19

I’ve still barely processed my anger at the end of the Brothers VS. God storyline. The idea of Jack being a “new God” is ridiculous. Not only does it ignore established lore of the universe by reducing Chuck to a human who was (apparently) just filled with divinity which can be sucked out of him like Daniel Plainview drinking his milkshake (yes, that’s a There Will Be Blood reference!), rob Amara of any agency by making her exist inside her nephew (ew), and make Jack (who has always been an OP character) a super duper Gary Stu, but its final message is an insult to long-held beliefs of both of the brothers, especially Dean.

Let’s break it down, shall we?

Ever since the earliest seasons, Dean has had an issue with the state of the world. In season 2, episode 13, Houses of the Holy, he makes the following pessimistic speech to Sam:

There's no higher power, there's no God. I mean, there's just chaos, and violence, and random unpredictable evil that comes out of nowhere, and rips you to shreds.

There are too many mentions of Dean’s lack of faith in God to go through each one, but it essentially boils down to this -- Dean can’t believe there is a God, because the world is so full of suffering and injustice, and no God would allow that to happen. It’s a classic atheist stance, held by a lot of people. But it goes a little further than that. In season 5, episode 2, Good God, Y’all, Dean says the following to Castiel:

Even if there is a God, he is either dead -- and that's the generous theory -- or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us. I mean, look around you, man.

So, what a lot of atheists point out is that not only do they not believe in God, but they often believe that, if there is a God, he is not worthy of worship or praise, because he made such an unfair, pain-filled, evil, world (for a very eloquent speech on this, check out Stephen Fry talking about it.) I’m not going to get into the Problem of Evil, because I’m not a theologian, and that’s not the point of this meta. But basically, that’s Dean’s stance on the subject of God. At first, Dean doesn’t believe there is a God, and then, when he’s forced to accept that there is, his belief changes to “God must be dead, or evil”.

Enter Chuck Shurley in season 11. At last, Dean is able to actually vent his feelings to God, and they have this exchange:

CHUCK: You're frustrated. I get it. Believe me, I was hands-on. Real hands-on for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being over-involved is no longer parenting. It's enabling. DEAN: But it didn't get better.

Given what we later find out about Chuck, it’s easy to say he’s lying. He was hyper-involved all along, pulling the strings, being the puppet master. This is what Dabb wants us to believe. Even though it literally ignores 14 seasons of established canon which say that God was an absentee father. Even though it ruins the narrative parallel between John Winchester and Chuck. Even though it retcons season 11, episode 20, Don’t Call Me Shurley -- one of the most beloved episodes, adored by fans and cherished by Rob Benedict as his favourite episode.

But sure. Let’s say Chuck is lying. That’s not even the point. The point is that Dean isn’t satisfied with a God who took a backseat, and let humanity stumble along by themselves. He wanted a God who steps in, who is involved, who stops suffering, and helps his creation.

Even Sam Winchester, the one with all the faith, eventually loses his cool with God, and, in season 14, episode 20, Moriah, says the following to Chuck:

Then why don’t you do something? If I had your power, I --

If he had God’s power, he’d... what? Rid the world of suffering and evil? Remove all the monsters? Get involved? Maybe even all of the above, given the context of the whole conversation. But again, the point is that Sam is angry at Chuck’s lack of involvement.

Fast forward to season 15, episode 19, Inherit the Earth, and the conversation between Jack and the brothers.

JACK: I’m already there. DEAN: Where? JACK: Everywhere. SAM: So you are... Him?

This isn’t the first part of the interaction that I take issue with, but I’ll focus on it anyway, otherwise this meta will be 1000 words long. The small gasp Dean gives when Jack says he’s “everywhere”? The almost reverent way Sam says “him”? The wannabe poetic explanation Jack gives to being “in every drop of falling rain, every speck of dust which the wind blows, and in the sand, and the rocks, and the sea”? It’s all supposed to bring the long-since lost mystique back to the character of God. Before he was introduced in the form of Chuck, God was only talked about reverently. Angels talked about his wrath, his power, his Divine Plan. God acted as an offscreen force, putting Sam and Dean on the plane at the beginning of season 5, bringing Castiel back from the dead in Swan Song. He was an unseen force. Yes, he intervened, but the idea of God sitting and playing a guitar? It would’ve been ludicrous in the early seasons of the show. They wanted the mystery of God as an unseen force, working in the world when the plot needed him.

All that to say, obviously that’s what they’re going with now, with Jack. He’s in everything, within everyone. But my question is... was Chuck that way too? If Jack is just God 2.0, if he’s omniscient and omnipresent, then surely, Chuck was too? Heck, we know Chuck was omniscient, because he told Amara he was, just two episodes ago.

Which brings me (in a very roundabout and rambling way) to the double standard here. It is okay for Jack to just “be in everything”, to not answer prayers, to be a “hands-off God”. But it’s not okay for Chuck to do that? It’s okay for Jack to make some speech about how people can find him by looking within, but that they don’t have to pray to him. News flash, kiddo: People are still going to pray to you. So... are you just ignoring those prayers? Jack is doing exactly what Chuck did, but, where Chuck was shown by the narrative to be a villain for stepping back, this is seen as a good thing. Because they played some sad music, and Sam and Dean looked solemn, and Jack talked about the power of human goodness. The show was screaming at us to see this as a good thing, to see Jack as a benevolent force, to be glad that the new Man With A Plan was the three year old son of Lucifer, instead of the ancient deity that’s been doing the job since the dawn of time.

And Sam and Dean do think this is a good thing. They get all teary-eyed, and let their surrogate son walk away in his fancy white suit (which has got to be a call back to both Chuck’s Swan Song appearance, and his final scene in Inherent the Earth, right?)

Everyone is talking about the Death of the Author, and how Chuck had to step aside to allow the boys to be free. But there was no Death of the Author. There was just a change in management. Jack is still fulfilling the role that Chuck once did -- an uninvolved, neutral, God, with all the power in the universe at his disposal, but apparently no intention of using it.

We have no reason to believe that Jack didn’t bring the world back exactly as it was before Chuck vanished everyone. All the murderers, rapists, monsters, abusers, are back. All the evil and suffering which Dean hated so much in the earlier seasons is still happening. The difference now? God is a three year old who looks like he’s in his mid-twenties.

And the most annoying thing? The show itself lampshaded, in season 15, episode 13, Destiny’s Child, how ridiculous it would be if Jack took over the role of God:

DEAN: But if Jack kills her... Kind of a family plan. Then there's no God, there's no Darkness. Nothing out of balance. World saved. SAM: Okay, yeah, but then who takes over? Uh, Jack? [Jack enters, chewing gum. He blows a bubble and pops it, grinning proudly] JACK: I just learned how to do that. DEAN: Probably not.

But now he’s made some saccharine speech about the inherent goodness of humanity, and Sam and Dean have conveniently forgotten how they hated it when God did nothing, and we’re all supposed to be okay with this, because Chuck turned out (over the course of one season) to be nothing like the neutral, distant, God we’d come to know over 14 seasons, but instead, he was a megalomaniacal control freak who apparently sent Kevin to Hell, tortured Sam, and is personally responsible for every bad thing that ever happens in the world, and has happened to the brothers. (Side note: Does this mean that they’ll blame Jack now, when bad things happen to them?)

I could go on about how sapping Chuck of his “powers” doesn’t stop him being God, because being God is more than just being a human filled with God-ness, and Chuck was never canonically said to be possessing a human vessel the way angels and demons do, but this is already long enough. So, sure. Let the Devil’s kid go be the rain, or whatever.

[dammithawke]

I’m not going to add on to the original post, because that just sounds like an absolute nightmare of a decision, but I do feel the need to lay my cards and thoughts on the table in regards to this exchange:

Where can I even begin.

Dante’s Inferno, and the Devine Comedy as a Trilogy, was Dante’s attempt to posit the question “What if the Heaven, Purgatory, and Hell mentioned vaguely in the bible were actual places? What would they be like and who would be there.” In doing so, he took a few concepts and characters from the bible and old testament to use as filler characters and guides. To flesh out this alternate universe he describes, he used real people from his own life and the political setting of his time, as well as a slew of historical figures to use as examples for who got punished where, according to him.

No one, and I mean no one, was equating Dante’s Inferno to “larry stylinson mpreg”, but since you really, REALLY want to go there: ‘larry stylinson’, for those not aware, is a ship names for a pair of men who were members of the band, One Direction. I never touched that part of the internet in particular, but, ignoring the condescending tone ( and, you know, I’m gonna throw out there that the term mpreg smacks hard of some transphobic bullshit that this post isn’t necessarily about, but is most certainly worth mentioning), the existence of ‘Larry Stylinson” fanfiction does fall in to a particular subsect of fanfiction: RPF (real people fiction). For the record, there is MUCH controversy, even in the many fandom communities, about the morality of shipping real actual people in this way. I personally do not condone it, but much like the transphobic bullshit OP insisted on bringing up, the morality of that is not necessarily the subject of this post.

EXCEPT

That’s exactly what Dante wrote, right down to to the use of Beatrice, a roman noble to whom Dante had previously dedicated many poems, as the embodiment of ‘divine knowledge bestowed by grace’ all the way to the point where his love for her is a catalyst to his ascension in Heaven. My dude Dante was just shipping himself with her. Never mind the ‘Self Insert’ bits. We already know he just straight up wanted to write about his own imagined journey to enlightenment. What’s more important is that Beatrice is there. Along with other political figures, she is a real person he is writing this fiction about.

Her, along with other political and historical figures of the time, saved Dante from the trudge work of designing and describing made up characters. What else serves this purpose, allowing an author to focus more on other parts of their craft and story telling?

Oh yeah. Fanfiction.

But you’re right, the fact that The Divine Comedy features Dante himself in a self insert protagonist role does not, in itself, mean that the entire work is fanfiction. Just like the fact that it was written between 1308–21 doesn’t negate the fact that it was based on the Bible and Roman Catholic Theology. Fanfiction, as a concept, wasn’t a coined term until 1939, and has since undergone a change or two in context/meaning. But the concept, as it stands now, is pretty clear: Fanfiction is a piece of derivative fiction as a tribute to another work or artist. 

Now OP also argues that it can’t be fanfiction because its an “Epic Poem”. I’m gonna level with you here; just like fanart is still fanart even if it’s featured later in the work itself, it’s still fanart. Fan-movies are also still a type of movie, and in the context of building on existing fiction, a form of fanfiction as well. People write fanfiction in the form of poems. Widen your fucking perspective.

Now, finally, to get a bit more general about your ice cold, shortsighted, condescending points: Not all fanfiction is silly, dirty, random, cringy, unedited garbage, as you seem determined to imply it is. Just like not all books are well written and worth reading. I love books. I love fanfiction. But you know which stories I’ve read have been the most personal, honest, touching, and emotional?

Fanfiction.

Which one is more accessible? Monetarily, as long as you have an internet connection and know what you’re looking for, the answer is fanfiction.

But which one is more respected? Obviously books. But why? What’s the difference? Books go through thorough editing and polishing to be published. The author is paid, usually, as a result. The product is bound and distributed -- or, in some cases, formatted and distributed digitally.

That being said, silly books exist. Trashy books exist. Self published books, books filled with typos and miss-prints, books that are based on other works in the public domain (yeah, bitch, I’m talking about fairy tail re-writes. It’s fanfiction too. Just because it’s based on public domain property and published for money doesn’t mean it’s not fucking fan fiction.)

So how do you find a good book as opposed to a bad one? You can go to a bookstore and just pick at random til you find one, but not every book you find is going to be well written or your cup of tea. Usually, it helps to be recommended a good book. 

The same goes for fanfiction. You want a good long fanfic? Just fucking ask someone. You want something well written, with amazing story arc and progression and pacing? JUST. ASK. 

And you know what? Fanfiction isn’t for everyone. Some people only enjoy things that continue where canon left off. Some people just want to picture their favorite characters happy for once in their fucking lives. Sometimes you just want to wonder what would happen if a show that had a good foundation was written by someone who actually knew how to fucking write. Sometimes you want the equivalent of Pulp Fiction books or short stories.

That’s all fine and beautiful.

You know what isn’t fine and beautiful?

OP being a pretentious piece of absolute trash. Please, for the love of everyone who has ever written or read anything, be less awful.

PS. Other classics that should be considered fanfiction include, but are not limited to:

The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1831) Author: Victor Hugo Fanfiction for: The Notre Dame

Paradise Lost (1667) Author: John Milton Fanfiction for: The Book of Genesis from the Bible

Any Shakespeare Play Based on History (17th Century) Author: Shakespeare Fanfiction for: World History

The Aeneid (19 B.C. -29 B.C) Author: Virgil Fanfiction for: The Iliad

Lord of the Flies Author: William Golding  Fanfiction for:  The Coral Island,

The Three Musketeers Author: Alexandre Dumas Fanfiction for:  Mémoires de Monsieur d'Artagnan

For Sources on Dante’s Inferno and the Divine Comedy: https://www.britannica.com/topic/The-Divine-Comedy

TLDR: OP is pretentious and Condescending and the only thing stopping fanfiction authors from publishing as actual books is copyright and connections in the publishing industry.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Two Sides of the Same Coin

Summary: The reader unexpectedly falls in love with two best friends

Characters: Frank Castle x black!reader, Billy Russo x black!reader

Warnings: Violence, language, and smut

WC: 6.5k (yeah, its hella long)

A/N: This is my baby and its finally ready for release. There will be a pt. 2, which revolves around season 2. Be on the lookout for that!

A groan behind the dumpster alerted you. Instinctively, you drew your gun and rounded the corner. Your eyes had to be deceiving you, because right now you were standing in front of a supposed to be dead Punisher.

Tucking your gun back in, you bent down to check on him. “Hey, are you ok?”

“I’m bleeding out lady, do I look okay,” he grunted.

Instead of sassing him back like you usually would, you pulled him up and started walking him up to your condo.

“Hey, lady you don’t have to do this. I’m good.” He protested, trying to push off of you, but too weak to do so.

“Stop calling me lady. My name’s Y/N. And you can’t even walk on your own. Let me stitch you up and then you can leave and finish whatever crusade you’re fighting.”

Frank shut his mouth. He did an okay job at stitching himself up, but it was always better to let someone else do it. Especially, when it’s a beautiful woman such as yourself.

You finally got into your place without getting caught. After, you guided Frank to a seat, you grabbed the first aid kit out of your bathroom.

“What’s a fancy girl like you willing to bring a bleeding man in your place,” Frank questioned after taking in your condo. Women who lived in places like these typically stayed away from men who looked like him currently. They usually clutch their purse and have 911 on speed dial.

“You’re not the first bloody man I’ve brought up here and you certainly won’t be the last. And plus, I know who you are, Frank,” you took a break from cleaning his wound to look up at him to show him you had no ill-intentions. “Whatever you’re doing now has to still do with your family and I totally get it. I didn’t stop hunting down the men who killed my sister.” You explained before he could even ask you.

“So, you’re not just some trust fund baby?” Frank joked.

Tugging on the thread a little hard you smiled at his wince. “No, I’m definitely a trust fund baby. I’m just a trust fund baby that knows how to shoot.”

For the first time tonight, he smiled, and you almost poked yourself with the needle. Frank Castle was already a dangerous man, but Frank Castle smiling was a deadly man.

“You know you should smile more,” you said, finishing up the last stitch.

“I haven’t had a reason to in a long time until now.” Frank stared at you for a while, but then he remembered he had to leave, not wanting you to get caught for harboring him.

He grabbed his jacket and limped to the door. “Thanks, Y/N.” He started turning the knob but stopped and looked back at you. “Um, do you mind? Can I- um, shit why is this so hard?” He fumbled with his words and you had to stop laughing, because you could tell Frank wasn’t a man who got nervous easily. “Would it be okay, if I uh, if I come here next time I’m all busted up?”

Going up to him, you reached up to the doorframe and grabbed the spare key. “How about this? You take this key and use it whenever you’re hurt.” You forcefully placed the key in his hand and gently shoved him out the door, because you knew he would reject your offer. “See you later, Frank.”

--

Since, that first night with Frank you seen him numerous times thanks to his extracurricular activities. Quickly, you two became friends, which probably a hard thing for Frank to do. Conversation between you two were never boring.  In fact, most of the time you two spent it laughing. After all the tragedy in his life, you knew Frank needed a ray of light, some semblance of happiness and you were the one to offer it to him.

Sometimes during his visits, he would use you as a sounding board. Your dad ran a private security firm and you worked for him so, you would give him some insight on his missions. He trusted you so much, that he told you where his hideout was with David Liberman was so you could patch him up if he couldn’t make it to you.

During all your time with Frank, you found yourself falling for him. And who could blame you? He was the perfect mix between rough and gentle, serious and goofy, jackass and sweetheart. Your ex was the opposite. Sure, Billy was rough around the edges, but he had a smooth exterior. He could charm a homeless man into giving him his last dollar.  

That’s how Billy ended up in your home even though you had a bleeding Frank locked in your spare bedroom. He charmed himself in.

“So, what is it that you want Bill? I’m tired and I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow.”

He knelt in front of you and grabbed your hands. “I miss you. I want us to get back together, baby.”

Knocking his hands away, you stood up from the couch. “Bullshit, Billy! Didn’t I just see you with that curly-haired DHS agent a couple of months ago?”

Billy smirked at your jealously. He knew you would never admit it, but he still affected you. Hell, you still affected him. “She reminded me of you a bit and I thought I could stay with a poor reminder of you, but I can’t. You’ve been in my mind every fucking day and I can’t get you out no matter how many other women I fucked.” He lifted his hand to stop you from interrupting him. “I know I messed up, but baby I was in a dark place then and I’m better now. I need you Y/N. I wanna marry you, give you babies, and grow old together. Please, give me one more chance,” he pleaded with a kiss to your hand.

A war was raging inside of you. If Billy would’ve done this a couple of weeks earlier, you probably would’ve taken him back in heartbeat and given him a hard time about it, but now that you were developing feelings for Frank it wasn’t so easy.

“Who is he?” Billy’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Who’s the man you’re seeing” Billy annoyingly clarified for you.

You were confused. Why would he think you were seeing anyone? “Not that its any of your business Russo, but I’m not dating anyone. You kind of fucked up dating for me.”

Billy used his height to tower over you to intimidate you as he backed you into the wall. “Fuck that. Remember I can you read you so fucking well. What other man has you hesitating to take me back?”

When you didn’t answer, he kissed you roughly and what a wonderful feeling it was. Billy looked like he would be a gentle lover, but in reality, he was rough, and you loved it. Abruptly, he ended the kiss. “Does he kiss you like that? Does he know how you like to be man-handled? Does he know that you like it doggy-style with your hair pulled?” In between each question he would kiss you with his hands roaming your body.

Someway, somehow you ended up on your couch with Billy on top of you, pulling off each other’s clothes. Both of you were very close to getting naked when Billy’s phone went off. Angrily, he answered the phone and by the sound of it, you wouldn’t be continuing your little rendezvous.

“Work emergency,” he explained while putting his clothes back on. “But this is far from over. I’m picking you up at 9 tomorrow morning for breakfast. No arguments. I love you.”

“Love you too,” you replied back, before he kissed your forehead and rushed out the door.

With one door closing another one opened and you finally remembered about Frank. When he came out, he had a look of despair on his face and you felt so fucking bad. How could you be so inconsiderate of him while he was in pain?

Pushing him to the chair you apologized. “I’m so sorry, Frank. I just get so caught up in Billy that I forget about everything. I should’ve never let him in. I’m sorry.”

Frank grabbed your hands just like Billy did earlier. “No, I’m sorry.”

Now you were definitely confused. Why in the hell is Frank apologizing to you? “Umm for what,” you dragged out.

“You know I used to nag Billy about finding a good woman and settling down, you know the whole quality over quantity thing, and now look at me. I’m falling in love with his girl. Some fucking friend I am.” Frank confessed, keeping his head down.

You couldn’t believe what you just heard. Frank knew Billy. It wasn’t far-fetched, both were in the marines and at the same time. Great, it was just your luck that you fell for two best friends.

“Did you guys meet in the service?” You whispered, not trusting your voice to crack.

Frank shook his head yes. “Yeah, saved my ass more times I can count. He was on that special ops team with me that Rawlins and Schoonover headed.”

Nudging his head, you got Frank to look at you. “Frank, I didn’t know,” remorse filling your voice.

Frank held your face in his hands. “No, no, no. Its not your fault, sweetheart. Just my luck to fall in love with my best friend’s girl, huh?”

“You love me,” you asked, tears pricking your eyes.

“Oh yeah, who wouldn’t? But I already had my chance at happiness, now its Billy’s turn. You won’t see me again. I’ll get Liberman to fix me up.” Frank claimed, walking towards your door.

You grabbed his hand to try to pull him back, but he snatched his hand away with ease despite being hurt. “Frank don’t do this,” you pleaded with him.

Nodding his head to himself, he looked down at the ground. “I got to. Billy needs you. He needs a strong woman in his life. If you can make an angry, bitter fuck like me happy, you definitely can do the same for Bill. I can’t be around you, because I’ll do my best to keep you for myself.”

The both of you let reality sink in. This would be the last time you’d see Frank Castle. Just before he crossed the doorway, he slammed the door shut, gripped your face and backed you against the door. “Shit, I’m gonna regret it if I don’t do this.” Suddenly, his lips were on yours and it was divine. His kiss was gentle, but no less dominant or passionate than Billy’s. He just expressed it in a different way.

Before you got to truly relish in the kiss, Frank released your lips and leaned his forehead against yours. “Take care of Bill for me, ok,” and with one last kiss to your forehead Frank was gone.

--

Billy stood by the gate staring daggers at a cuffed Frank. Only if Frank would’ve stayed in hiding, he wouldn’t have to deal with all this and could be spending time with you.

“Just ask it, Bill. I know you want to,” Frank told him.

He pushed off the gate and got right in front of Frank’s face. Both men staring each other down in hate. “You screw her, Frank?”

Frank leaned back to take a look at his former best friend, a man he once considered as his brother. He toyed with the idea to lie to him but disregarded it because, he didn’t want to disrespect you by lying on you.

Getting fed up with waiting, Billy asked again with more bass in his voice. “Did you sleep with Y/N, Frankie?”

“No, but I should’ve.”

Billy cocked back his hand and punched Frank.  No other man could have you, only him.

The punch didn’t affect Frank one bit. He just laughed it off and egged on Billy. “Man, you messed up, Bill. You lost her. Do you think she could ever forgive you after what you did? Was killing my wife and kids worth you losing the best damn thing in your miserable life!?” Frank ended up screaming in his face.

“My life wasn’t ruined until you decided to start your little revenge mission! I already had the ring picked out, the perfect wedding venue, and her father’s permission, but you ruined that Frank! You dragged the one pure thing in my life into your mess!”

Frank tried to jump up from his chair to get in Billy’s face. “No, you did that all on your own! After Madani found you out at the hotel, she brought Y/N in for questioning. Madani told me she railed into her. She thought Y/N had to know something, but she didn’t. Eventually, Madani believed Y/N and felt bad for her, so she told her the whole truth about you.”

“You’re lying and if you aren’t Y/N didn’t believe a word.” Billy sneered, pointing a gun at Frank.

“I’m not lying, Bill and you’re right…she didn’t believe Madani. Y/N/N didn’t believe it until she talked to me. I used to be able to find solace at Maria’s grave, but it wasn’t enough after I found out you betrayed me. So, I went to Y/N to talk and you wanna know what happened when she opened the door?”

Billy rolled his eyes at Frank’s dramatic storytelling. “What happened?”

“She broke down and cried.” Frank reminisced on your last encounter. The heartbreak on your face solidified his hatred for Billy. “All it took was one look at me and she knew everything Madani told her was true, and you wanna know what the kicker is? She apologized to me. To me! Like she was the one who pulled the trigger. She apologized for loving the man who destroyed my family. Hell, Billy she was so fucking disgusted with herself that she wouldn’t even let me touch her! Do you know what a fucking gift you had, Billy!? A woman like her only comes once in a lifetime.”

Billy had to hold himself together, no matter how much he wanted to break down. Whatever chance he thought he had with you was gone. There were a lot of things you could forgive, but his recent actions were unforgivable. “So, what now? You think you won now that you ruined my relationship with Y/N? What, are you two going to live happily ever after?”

“Hell no! Even though she hates what you did, she still loves you and that’s the beauty of Y/N. So, I can’t be with her when I kill the love of her life. I would be a constant reminder of that.”

Bending down, leaning on his knees Billy said to Frank, “That’s not gonna happen. You’ll be dead and then I’ll have time to fix things with Y/N.”

The former friends couldn’t resume their argument, because Rawlins finally showed up. This conversation would have to pick up at another time.

—

Miraculously, Lieberman was able to get in contact with you and informed you of Frank’s crazy plan. David only told you, so you can get to their safe house before Homeland Security and save Frank. He had a horrible feeling that Frank was being tortured or at the brink of death.

And he was absolutely right. When you got to the safe-house Frank was beaten at the worst you’ve ever seen him, and Rawlins had a knife to his eye.

Knowing Rawlins’ death belonged to Frank, you let off a warning shot by his ear. “Get away from him you cyclops looking ass bitch!”

All eyes turned on you. Both Frank and Billy were in shock that you were there, but Rawlins was happy.

“Forget the eye you owe me, Castle. I’ll just take one more thing you love.” Quickly, Rawlins grabbed you and put the knife to your neck.

“What the fuck are you doing, Rawlins!?” Billy yelled, drawing his gun.

“Let her go! You got me! Come kill me you son of a bitch!” Frank shouted, attempting to jump from his seat.

Both men kept yelling at him, but it didn’t deter Rawlins. Instead he added more pressure to your neck, drawing blood.

“Shut it, Russo! You don’t get to question me; you work for me.” Rawlins leaned into your ear. “I thought I would have to find you and make your death look like an accident. But look, the last loose end, struts right into the lion’s den.”

Desperately, you wanted to knock him out, but with how close he had the knife to your neck, there was a great possibility that Rawlins could get in a fatal blow.

“I’ll get her under control. She won’t say a word.” Billy tried to reason with him.

“No fucking way! I can’t wait to see Frank put a bullet in your fugly face!” You said to Rawlins, correcting Billy.

You could practically hear Billy roll his eyes at your outburst. One of things he loved and hated about you is, that you always spoke your mind, but it was one of the times that it was detrimental. “Y/N, shut the fuck up!” Frank and Billy reprimanded you.

Rawlins laughed at the interaction. “Sorry to end this little love triangle, but you can blame Castle for pulling her in Russo.”

What you and Rawlins didn’t know was that Frank and Billy were silently communicating on how to save you. Earlier, Billy loosened Frank’s restraints, because Rawlins was being a dick to him, so he deserved what was coming to him.

Finally, getting the hint Frank broke free. The shock caused Rawlins to loosen his hold on you, which allowed Billy to grab you.

“You good? Are you okay, baby?” Billy questioned while his hands roamed your body for injuries. When he was satisfied that you weren’t hurt, he kissed you deeply. For a moment, you forgot that he was backstabbing murderer, but the sound of Frank attacking Rawlins pulled you out of it.

Never had you seen Frank fight. You only saw the aftermath. So, you were intrigued when he fought Rawlins.

Billy tried to turn your head. “Don’t look. Y/N don’t need to see this.” You slapped his hands away and continued to watch anyway.

The way Frank fought was unbridled, ruthless, and brutal. Truthfully, if it was anyone else you would be concerned about their mental state, but you understood the depth of his anger and that was how he expressed.

You ran to Frank when he almost passed out after killing Rawlins. “Hey, baby wake up,” you lightly slapped his face.

“BABY!?” Billy roared from the other side of the room.

“I wish I could see your face right now, Bill. You just realized you’re done, and you lost everything you gave a shit about.” Frank struggled to speak.

“This isn’t my gun, Frank. I was never here. Y/N was never here.” Billy pulled you up from, Frank’s body and dragged you across the room.

You managed to pull yourself out of his hold and give Billy a right hook. “I’m not going anywhere with you! Do you think we still have a chance after everything you’ve done?”

Billy crowded your space and pointed the gun at Rawlins. “I offered Frankie a ticket out of the country before and just now I loosened the zip tie, so Frank had his chance. Ain’t that enough? What else do you want from me?”

“How about some remorse!? Can you even access that emotion or does that require too much selflessness from you?” You challenged Billy. You had to be hard on him or you would be too weak and take him back like nothing.

Taking a second, he looked up to the ceiling in deep thought. Billy leveled his eyes to yours and sighed, “What was happening when I broke up with you?”

“Huh? That’s irrelevant, Billy!”

“Its not! Now think what was in the news when I ended things?”

It took you awhile for you to remember, but when you did it hit you like a freight train. “Frank. His trial. Everything with Frank was front and center,” you mumbled.

“How does that matter, Billy?” Frank yelled off from the side. He didn’t need Billy charming his way back into your good graces.

“None of your business, Frankie. Why don’t you stick to dying over there?”

Punching Billy in the stomach, you scolded him. “Stop it!”

This time he let you go when you went to check on Frank. He was bleeding badly, so you took off your shirt to slow down some of the bleeding.

“Well, ain’t that a sight to go out to,” Billy commented on how Frank got an ample view of your breasts.

Billy’s smartass remarks were getting on your everlasting nerves and you were running out of patience. “William ‘Billy’ Russo quit your shit!”

“He ain’t lying sweetheart. That beautiful face being the last thing I’ve see is a blessing.” Frank took a bloody hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You leaned down to his ear, playing it off as if you were leaning down to kiss him. “Stop talking. I need to stall him long enough until DHS gets here.”

Then you placed a kiss on his cheek, earning you a shot dangerously close to Frank from Billy. “None of that,” he warned.

“Okay, since I can’t do fucking anything but listen, please enlighten me what Frank’s trial had to do with us breaking up.”

Scratching the side of his head, Billy was trying to figure out where to start at. He had to make you see sense, to make you understand that he wasn’t as heartless as you believed him to be. “Y/N, you changed everything. Maria, the kids, I pushed all the guilt down and reasoned that their deaths were necessary, because I deserved better. And when all that shit went down with Frank and why he was killing everyone, all that guilt came back up.”

“Why then, Billy? Why did you feel guilty then!?”

“Because of you, damn it! Because I could finally relate. Because if someone as so much laid a fucking finger on you, they’d be dead. Shit, I already told Frankie over there, so I tell you, I was planning to propose to you. That pregnancy scare we had right before we broke up made me ready to have a family with you and I knew if someone took it away like Frank’s family, I would’ve ended up the same way.” Billy confessed.

Frank tried to stand up after he heard Billy’s confession, but he was too hurt, so you gently pushed him back down. “Having a family of your own made you regret your decision, even though we considered you family!?” The hurt was evident in Frank’s voice and you thought he may never recover.

“Frank, it’s done and over with. That chapter of your life is done. Matter of fact,” Billy gripped you by the back of the neck and pulled you against him. Then he cocked his gun and aimed at Frank despite your protests. “It’s the end of your story.”

Just before he was able to pull the trigger on Frank, a bullet from a Homeland Security hit his shoulder. He recovered quickly and dragged you with him, not caring that you left behind a bleeding Frank. The only solace you had in that moment was Madini would be able to get him the help that he needed.

--

“This is stupid, you know. You have DHS, NYPD, and my dad on your ass. Just turn yourself in and end the madness, Billy.”

Billy looked away from the window to look at you, “I’m not going prison. All I gotta do is get rid of Frank and then we’re off to a country with no extradition and starting a new chapter of our lives.”

Thankfully, Billy trusted you to a degree and didn’t tie you to the chair. So, you got up and wrap your arms round his waist and laid your head on his back. “If you go after Frank, do you really think you’ll survive that, Billy? He’s pissed and he’s not gonna stop til you’re dead. The only way to stop this is to convince you, because I know Frank can’t and more importantly, I won’t ask that from him either”

Insulted that you didn’t believe he could survive, Billy stepped out of your embrace. “You rather have me in prison?”

“I rather have you in prison than six feet under! God, Billy do you know how fucking conflicting this is for me!? I have to deal with two men I love trying to kill each other and one of em deserves it! Do you know how much it hurts my heart to say you deserve to die, Billy?” Sobs racked your body and eventually your body gave out and you fell to the floor. Never has Billy seen you cried like this. He got down to the floor and held you until the sobs subsided. “Please Billy, if you can’t go to prison just leave the country, but I can’t go with you.” You whispered against him.

It seemed like an eternity passed after you gave Billy that ultimatum. He truly considered it, but he couldn’t live without you, even if it would mean you would hate him forever. “You said it best, doll: Frankie ain’t stopping, so neither am I.” He admitted, right before he ripped your shirt in half.

“What the fuck, Billy?!” You slapped his hands away, but that didn’t deter him. His hands began to drift off to your pants and you were positive they were going to be his next victim.

Twisting your hip away from him, you were able to escape Billy’s embrace. “Bill, what the hell are you doing?”

Billy went down to push your pants down. “Just like I told you neither me or Frankie is stopping and if this is my last day on earth I wanna make love to my soulmate and possibly leave her with a little gift.”

“Uh huh. There’s absolutely no way I’m having sex with you.” Your voice quivered as you tried to reject Billy. Despite seeing him callously kill those DHS agents at his house, your body thrummed with excitement at the prospect of having sex with Billy.

Softly kissing the column of your neck with little nips in between, Billy cockily asked, “Is that so?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you shook your head yes, which was a big no no for Billy. He loved you being vocal. Even when you two would sneak around in public, he made no efforts to quiet your moans.

“Use your words, darling,” he warned with two quick slaps to each butt cheek.

You melted into him despite the stings on your ass. “We’re totally not having sex,” you stuttered while Billy was massaging your ass.

Billy said nothing as his hand slid up your neck and lightly squeezed your throat. “See, your mouth is saying one thing, but your body is saying the complete opposite. Are you sure that’s what you want, baby? You know how good I can make you feel. How full I make you feel with me between those luscious thighs. How blissful it feels when I get at just the right angle and hit that spot. How high you feel when I start rubbing that pretty clit of yours while I’m plowing into you. Or how about how good it feels when I finally let you cum and you gush all over me. Do you really want to miss out on that for possibly the last time?”

At this point, you were a puddle. Billy always had a way with words. You only had enough energy to turn to face Billy and rip off his clothes. “That’s my girl,” Billy chuckled as he helped you take off his clothes and the remaining of yours.

Billy lowered himself to his knees and threw one of your legs over his shoulders, but you stopped him before he could get started. “No, I need you inside of me,” you ordered him.

“Someone’s impatient,” Billy smirked, standing up to his full height.

“Stop playing around or I’ll go find someone else to finish the job.”

Billy’s whole face darkened, he lifted your leg around your waist and entered you roughly. Both of you moaned in ecstasy. Both enjoying the familiar feeling of each other.

“Feels like my words did the trick. I didn’t even get to taste my favorite meal, because you’re so fucking wet already.” Billy whispered, not moving one inch since he entered you.

To motivate him, you slapped Billy across the face. “I swear to God, Russo if you don’t start moving, I’m gonna—oh shit,” your eyes rolled to your back of your head as Billy pulled out and pushed back in.

Yours and his moans plus the sound of skin slapping together were basically pornographic. Billy was right, he knew exactly how to make you feel on top of the world.

“I’m close, baby. Are you?” Billy asked, moving all your hair to one side so he could kiss the side of your neck. Somehow you managed to tell him yes and he let out a growl of approval.

“I’m gonna bust all in you. You hear me?” Billy yanked back your hair. “I’m gonna fill you with my seed and hope to see you round with my baby. Whether I end up dead or alive, either way I’m getting you pregnant tonight.”

His words shouldn’t have turned you on, but they did. You shouldn’t even be having sex with him right now but fucking Billy Russo could have almost anything he wanted especially when he was deep in your guts.

Billy’s pace fastened, causing both of you to erupt against each other. Both of your bodies were covered in the light sheen of sweat, but neither of you made the effort to clean up. In fact, you snuggled into him, drifting off to sleep, not knowing the shit show you would awake to later.

 --

When you woke up, you were tied to a carousel, Dinah was lying on the ground with a gun shot wound to the head, and Billy and Frank were beating each other to death.

Neither man had the upper hand, they were too evenly matched for each other. “Guys, please stop!” Your throat was harsh, but you managed to scream at them.

It took a couple of more screams for them to finally pay attention to you.

“Sweetheart, you good? Did he hurt you?” Frank asked, oblivious to Billy planning to attack him. Billy managed his sneak attack on Frank and he finally got the upper hand. Your heart dropped. It looked like Frank was going to die, because you were a distraction.

You were in such a frenzy that you didn’t notice you broke the zip ties until you fell from the carousel.

In the nick of time, you were able to cover your body over Frank’s, halting Billy’s assault.

“Get out the way, Y/N!” Billy ordered you.

Shaking your head, no, you pleaded with him. “Please stop.”

Billy rolled his tongue around like he always does when he’s pissed. “Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Do you love him?” He hissed.

“Yes,” you uttered, knowing it would break Billy’s heart.

“Do you love him more than me?”

“I..I…I don’t know.”

Sheathing his knife, he bent down, gripped the sides of your face and gave you a bruising kiss. You couldn’t tell if the kiss was meant for pleasure or punishment, or maybe both.

“Well, we’re about to find out.” He pushed off of his heels and cocked his gun. “Choose.”

“What?” You questioned, obviously confused.

Frank finally spoke up from under you. “Bill, you piece of shit. Don’t you do this to her!”

Billy was unfazed and instead of pointing the gun at Frank, he pointed it to Dinah. “Choose or she won’t even get the chance to survive the first shot.”

Frantically, you looked between both Frank and Billy. Each man so different but so similar at the same time and both had a vise grip on your heart.

“Frank,” you whispered with your head hanging down. “I choose Frank.”

If he wasn’t bleeding, you would’ve been able to see the red flushing Billy’s face.

He nodded his head as if he understood. “You always make things difficult. That’s ok, it’ll be just like when we first started dating.”

Expert marksmanship was Billy’s thing, so he always had a shot at Frank despite you covering his body. When the shot went off, you got clipped in the shoulder.

That moment set something off in Frank and he had renewed energy. Just like when Rawlins cut you, he was an animal. He attacked Billy so ferociously, you thought Billy was dead. But Frank shocked you, he told Billy he’ll leave him alive. The only thing that worried you was would it have been better just to kill Billy after the state Frank left him in.

—

Things were as good as they were gonna get. David was back with his family, Billy was locked up and hospitalized, Dinah was alive, and the CIA and DHS decided to leave Frank alone, letting him live his life.

Currently, you were waiting on Frank to go to David’s house for dinner with his family.

“Hey, Frank you almost ready?” You asked, putting on your earrings.

Frank came out of your guest room with a big duffel bag and a face full of regret.

Nodding to yourself to stop from crying, you asked the question you already knew the answer to. “You’re not going, are you?”

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Frank looked off to the side before returning his gaze to you. “Yeah.”

Walking over to him, you stuck your hands in his back pockets and gave him your irresistible puppy dog face. “There’s no way I can make you stay?”

Frank shook his head at you. He had to be strong or otherwise you would have him wrapped around your finger. Who’s he kidding? He’s probably already is. “You’re dangerous. You know that, sweetheart?”

Flipping your hair, you smiled up at him. “Duh. I kick ass on the daily.”

“That’s true, but you can really bring a man to his knees with just those beautiful eyes of yours. So, stop giving me those puppy dog eyes, or I’ll never leave you alone.”

Since, your innocent act wouldn’t work you decided to be a bit more devilish. This time you snaked your arms around Frank’s neck, brought your face closer to his and whispered into his ear. “You sure you can’t stay? At least for dinner?” You asked, licking the shell of his ear before tugging it in your mouth.

Grabbing handful of your ass, Frank pulled you closer to him and growled in your ear. “Don’t go poking the bear.”

“Or what,” you threw back, smirking up at him.

Frank shoved you against the nearest wall to kiss you and fondle your body. The way he was kissing you was almost like he was marking his territory, making it impossible for you to think about any other man.

His hands drifted to the inside of your jeans, where he pushed your panties to the side to insert two of his digits inside of you.

“Frankkkk,” you whimpered, digging your fingers in his shoulders. Those two fingers alone were stretching you out almost making you feel full. You couldn’t imagine how it would feel to get the real deal.

“Hey, open your eyes. I want to see them when I make you cum.” Frank rasped against your ear, making you even wetter than before.

Frank sped up his fingers and used his thumb to massage your clit. He loved how you quivered against him, knowing he was the cause of it. He loved your little moans that made him harder. He loved how hard you were digging into his shoulders that he knew would cause bruises. All of it he loved because he loved you.

He felt you contract around his fingers and he was in a dilemma. Desperately, he wanted to observe you fall apart against him, but he also wanted to draw it out, because this was the last time he planned on seeing you.

“Baby, please,” you begged Frank. Hearing you beg, undid Frank and at that moment he decided to finish you off.

Curling his thick fingers without changing his pace, Frank hit your g-spot, making you cum so hard you saw white spots.

Frank muffled your moans with his lips on yours. The way he was kissing you made you already wanting to start round two when you barely made it through the first round.

You whimpered when he slipped his fingers out of you and into his mouth. Unwrapping your arms from around his neck, you tried to stand on your own, but you stumbled a bit. “You okay, sweetheart?” Frank chuckled while checking on you.

When you shook your head yes, he reached down to pick up his duffel bag. “Still leaving huh?” You asked trying to keep the disappointment out.

“It’s better this way. Gives you a chance at a normal lifestyle.” Frank explained to you.

“What if I don’t want normal,” you countered.

Frank smirked at you before pulling you back into him. “You deserve it after all this bullshit, sweetheart. Go find an accountant or some stockbroker. Anyone who’s not like me or Billy.”

Pouting, you playfully hit his shoulder. “But I like my men a little murderous,” you whined.

Frank couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh. He was gonna miss that humor of yours. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

“I’m serious too! What the hell am I gonna do with a stockbroker? I’m gonna be like: ‘Oh what did I do? I beat the shit out of my client’s abusive husband. So, how was your day?’”

“You can’t beat the shit out of those assholes if you’re on the run with me. You gotta stay here help people out. It’s your calling.” It hurt to admit it, but Frank was right. The way Frank loved being a marine was the same way you loved helping out people.

Accepting defeat, you hugged Frank tightly, taking in his scent, committing it to memory. “I love you, Frank Castle.”

Slightly, pulling away from you Frank cupped your face as if he was holding precious cargo and kiss the corner of your lips. “I love you too.”

Just for a couple of seconds both of you stood there silently, getting your fill of each other for the last time. Frank was the one that broke contact first when he reached for the door. “Take care of yourself Y/N.” He advised, right before walking out the door.

After Frank left, you locked the door and slid to the ground, allowing yourself to finally let the tears fall. In a span of a couple of months you were in love with two men, one who was responsible for the deaths of the other’s family, and in a matter of days both were out of your life.

  @twistedcharismaaa​ @titty-teetee​ @guccicloudz​ @gollyderek​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @angievii @gabytodd​ @frantic-realm @mmabodybuilder​ @breanime​ @veryfastspeedz @mbaku-babygirl @crushed-pink-petals​ @music-geek19​ @voluptuouspelko​

[cheekbites-moved]

ok i still havent gotten the secret ending but farming for it might take me a bit so im gonna make a thoughts post for age of calamity now:

Major spoilers obvs so ill put it under a read more

things i enjoyed:

revali beatdown simulator

the controls for the divine beasts are a bit clunky, but i think the angles they used for them did an excellent job at really making the player feel like we were actually controlling a divine beast. so i think it was done well.

link’s personality really gets to shine full force in this game with the amount of cut scenes and it was wonderful to see

every character clearly had a lot of love put into how they operate. they truly all feel unique, & all of their play styles fit them really well in my opinion

the game does a really good job of making you understand what a real threat the monsters are. like in botw they’re intimidating at first, but once you’re far enough into the game they become just an inconvenience to work around if anything. this game managed to actually make certain monsters intimidating for me again, and i think that’s a real accomplishment

the blight battles are actually somewhat challenging in this game and that is truly a commendable achievement lol i think all the bosses are good tbh. i didnt rly dislike or not enjoy any of them.

the way daruk and link’s friendship & urbosa’s motherly relationship towards zelda got to shine was. so good. it’s all i could’ve ever wanted

seeing the descendants again was really nice & it was awesome to see the champions interacting with them!! especially sidon and mipha omggggg. that was. really fucking good shit

kohga. just. kohga in general. getting to see more of him was really rad, he’s such a fun guy! and his english va was Excellent. you could really tell he was having a lot of fun playing him, and it was lovely to see! :)

zelda getting to really shine in this game was also lovely to see. and her being so assertive and badass by the end? omg. it was so wonderful especially after botw. man. 

the combat is done very well imo. im rly glad that they took so many elements from botw, but also added their own flares to make it feel fresh. it was rad.

sidon’s tagline is “winning smile” and his power is “boundless optimism” and i think that’s beautiful

the music in this game is SOOOOO good oh my god. multiple times during playing i had to pause to just appreciate it. it’s pretty much all remixes of botw with a few originals for the new characters, but they all slap. there was not a single song in this game i didn’t like. it is definitely one of my favorite video game soundtracks officially. maybe one of my favorite overall soundtracks in general tbh.

the visuals obviously look just like botw, but it still looked fucking gorgeous at some points. like. man. they really went off to make it look not only faithful to botw as far as appearance goes, but also as far as capturing botw’s beauty and it was. excellent to see!

if anything is true to botw’s backstory, it’s definitely how op link is. cause he was established to be op in botw, & when u finish botw he is also op as hell. he is so fun to play as the higher leveled he gets. he absolutely kicks ass. especially with a two-handed weapon??? daaaaammmmnnn. thats my badass baby boy!!!!

link eating rocks not once, but TWICE. just showing PEAK gremlin energy. 10/10 for those scenes they were great

the ending was really beautiful actually and i did cry like a little baby for it what about it

things i didn’t like:

obviously first and foremost.. this is not the game we were advertised. and no matter how much i overall enjoyed the game, it will always have some layer of being tainted attached to it due to the false advertising. this is not the prequel we thought we’d be getting. & not using “prequel” specifically doesn’t matter when all the advertising, including the box art talks about this being the story of what happened 100 years ago. with no indication it wasn’t the story of what happened 100 years ago in the botw timeline, but a separate universe/timeline entirely. i do hope we get dlc for the game at some point giving us what we were advertised, but at the same time... rly wish that the story that’s in the final game was dlc, & the story we were promised was the original :/ or just having the game have two separate storylines originally would’ve been cool. i just wish it wasn’t falsely advertised. 

fort hateno can fucking eat my whole entire shit WHY is that part so needlessly obnoxious compared to everything else oh my god

being forced to fulfill revali’s power fantasy TWICE hurt my soul

fuck any mission where you have to protect the useless hylian guards. i hate them. they suck.

the ai for player characters when you aren’t playing as them can also be pretty useless. it was really frustrating failing missions because my fellow party members weren’t helping me, and i was basically expected to be in two places at once to get shit done myself. :/ ik you can just switch between characters to make it easier, but like. i like playing as link the most. he’s my favorite character, & ofc since he’s mandatorily played for most of the story, he’s gonna be the most leveled up character regardless so he’s just the best to play as in general especially for harder missions. it was annoying to be forced to play as other people Solely cause the ai was so useless.

king rhoam’s attempt at a redemption arc. i’m not sorry that i just fucking hate this man. i don’t mind him entirely in botw bc you can see clear, genuine remorse during the cut scene at the end of the great plateau. but the redemption arc he gets in this game? after all the fucking shit he does in this game? especially when after his ~redemption arc~ i had to sit through a cut scene of him being an absolute fucking asshole to baby zelda after her mother just died????? absolutely fuck that shit. i don’t appreciate that crap at fucking all. he’s a verbally abusive piece of shit and i hate his guts.

obviously there was gonna be some retconning of how certain things worked in botw in order to make this kinda game work but the way sheikah technology works in this game is so goddamn confusing i do not get it. the works of botw are never outright said or explained completely, but it’s straightforward enough that it doesn’t really matter. this game does try to explain certain things and it just becomes. really clunky and confusing very quickly. 

the story is alright, i guess, but..... really confusing/convoluted as hell at times to a point that it’s. really fucking distracting. especially in comparison to how straightforward botw’s story is. like..... cannot help but be annoyed that such a problem wouldn’t have been a thing if they stuck to botw’s story.

i was sad when the egg thing died but i dont like the egg thing.... it is the MAIN reason shit was retconned so much & i just. dont get its purpose. but i did really like the reveal that zelda made it herself. that was good shit!

also the egg glitched out like. a LOT. idk what the fuck was going on with the poor thing but there was multiple times during a cut scene or when i was just sitting there that it was freaking out in the background and it was rly weird

elemental overworld boss monsters................. obnoxious. especially elemental guardians like goddamn bro what the fuck

i know warriors’ games aren’t about exploring anyway but the limitations for exploring was really sad/frustrating. this is still somewhat the world of hyrule before the calamity, which is something we’ve always wanted to see. not being able to explore even the immediate area at certain points because of shit like timed missions was really upsetting, man. :( i just wanted to see hyrule castle Before the calamity why was did they have to rob us like that.....

creepy corrupted egg’s transformation. why. what was that. what the fuck

even though i did enjoy the boss fights, it did get. incredibly taxing eventually to have to fight the SAME bastards so many times. like yeah botw is also guilty of this with the blights, but goddamn.... at least i have a choice to avoid certain encounters with them? this game has you fighting the same bitches like upwards of 3-4 times. it was. really annoying tbh. like the fights themselves are enjoyable, but damn we added new characters and it still inevitably lacked variety in boss fights.

no playable kass >:( if he’s available later in dlc then fine but i wish he was playable in the original game. so many random choices you’d never expect are. why couldn’t he also be there >:(

overall:

it will forever have that sour taste for the false advertising attached to it unfortunately, but that aside, i overall did enjoy the game! i think it has a lot to love in spite of the issues i encountered. as someone who has this as their first warriors game as well, it did lend itself to letting me see the appeal of them. idk if i’ll get more, but i do get why they’re so beloved/popular now. it was an alright time, with some amazing highlights that i’m gonna think back on very fondly for a very, very long time. if i had to rate it..... 7/10 

[madou-dilou]

A Requiem for Opeli, a Dragon Prince fanfic (Viren x reader) (sort of)

Despite everything your parents may have said, you enjoyed attending mass.

In the shade of the semicircular vaults of the sanctuary, in the sweet coloured lights of the stained glass windows, in the golden halos of the candles, under the benevolent eye of the saints, surrounded by six chapels for the six sources, the atoms themselves seemed to be scented with incense. Carved in stone, the acanthus flowers and strange fruits decorated the column's capitals, reminding the lost blessing of Xadia. Everything felt so dignified, so humble, so respectful, so soothing, so reliable and so reassuring that it was easy to get carried away by the choir of the nuns. The wise sermons of the High Prelate Opeli, in particular, procured such fervour that you had more than once been caught raising your hand to your chaplain when the ringing of the coins gathered for charity was heard between the rows of benches. However, it was not your habit to pay for strangers, even less for beggars. The Katolis Crown was funding enough leprosariums and hospitals to make it unnecessary for you to contribute. It was always their Majesties Harrow and Sarai who completely emptied their purses filled with gold in the baskets of the Sisters. Even the royal bastard ... what was his name again? Calleon? Callus? Caramel? Chameleon? Anyway, even he did not fail once to loosen his little chubby hands.

Thus the honour of sharing the same bench as their Majesties paid for a similar purse on pain of incurring the royal contempt, and after Their generous contributions would clink no more than mountains of little dims, pennies and piecettes.

Led by the warm alto voice of the High Prelate Opeli, the choir of the nuns spread in pious solemnities.

Et lux fontes duce nos

Defendat nos temptationem

Salvos nos fac de tenebris

Nos, agni decidantur

Dimitte nobis debita nostra

Dona nobis gratia Hi autem de Xadia

On your right, Lady Vassileia yawned. You gave her a nudge:

"Ouch!" she protested softly enough not to interrupt the psalm of the High Prelate. "I wasn't even asleep!"

"Liar," you whispered to her. "Raise your head and listen."

Vassilea had a broken pout that her lace mantilla could not conceal:

"After our phenomenal bender last night, I wonder by what miracle I was able to drag myself to the sanctuary."

You could hardly blame her. In the euphoria that followed your tenth perfect execution of the complex Jarnac move, you had invited your fencing master and your best friend to celebrate the event with a glass of fine wine, a secular cuvée stung in the cellars of the castle in the provinces. One glassful had become a fifth, a tenth, a fifteenth, and to the wise and poignant melody of Who covets the lady the husband must kill had succeeded the bawdy and raucous notes of A sublimated dead for my rising athame, and this until very late at night.

"And not just any rotgut, please!"

"Some Sang-Réal! Heavens, are you insane!" cried Vassilea, seeing you go up from the cellars with two bottles under each arm. "But what will your parents say?"

"Nothing, as usual: they are buried in their books!" had you retorted. "The courses at the University take so much and so much time and energy from them, because who, yes, who will be able to deliver the little people from the sterile dogmas of Faith if not Their Nobility and Their Bookish Knowledge ?!"

The Royal University of Katolis had only opened its gates fifteen years earlier, - it was the late King Harrow's father who inaugurated it. Still, its fame was already reaching every corner of the Pentarchy. Students were taught about everything, aside from dark magic, of course. Mathematics, geometry, geography, politics, history, philosophy, astronomy, ancient draconic, neolandian, evenerian, delbarian, durennian, rhetoric, logic, literature, theology, accounting. Even corpse dissection was taught in this place, despite being legalised only twenty years before- the Faith had uttered loud cries, and it was necessary to double the theology courses to calm their whinings.

"After the hollering that the Faith gave when the Toreha was printed," joked your lord of a father, "no one wants to suffer its snivelling ever again !"

"Everyone has their own copy and everyone can now interpret it in their own way!" added madam your mother. "Obviously, the Faith does not want to lose its grip on consciences!"

"The Faith lost it a long time ago already" snickered sir, "and despite all High Prelate Opeli's booing and hooing to the Council. On the contrary, even, that only demonstrates the truth: if It struggles, it is that it's dying! But, (name), my darling", he added conspiratorially, "won't you shout it all over the place, hm? You know how much displaying scepticism is frowned upon. "

Only the nobles had the privilege of teaching at the Royal University of Katolis, for the moment at least. On the actions took for the education of the little people, to lower the cost of paper and to improve printing techniques, invented some two hundred years earlier, returned the credit for the meteoric increase in the number of students. Even if most of them came from the bourgeoisie and the nobility, and even if the printing works were strictly supervised by a censorship council which limited as much as possible the dissemination of pamphlets and more or less fraudulent wisdom, it was inevitable that this storm of knowledge would trickle over each layer of the population, from the marquis in his castle to the boggy swamp. The Toreha will kill the Church, they said, from murmurs to pamphlets to late drinking in manors, and Human will kill the old Gods of Xadia ...

The nuns' choir continued its hymn in the triforium:

Mors, et vita in morte Fontes nos in deliberationibus

De veteris Dryadalis Xadia quidem apostolos luminis

Accipient in humanitate

Et propitius ero peccatis nostris

Et pascam eorum magicae

Vassiléa yawned to unhook her jaw:

"And then what idea you had of placing us in the last row!" she whimpered as the High Prelate Opeli piously licked a finger to turn a page of the Toreha. "I can't see a drop of it. As if ancient draconic wasn't enough..."

"It's not my fault that we arrived late," you whisper with dignity. "If you had stirred a little earlier, maybe we would be ..."

" You little liar," whispered Vassiléa. "Look at me all these splendid attires. It is surely not to honour the Holy Sources that you took all this trouble ... You have always disdained mass, like your bookworms of parents. Well, I grant you", she added, her eyes bright with mischief," having a job requires a lot of energy ... "

"It isn't even a real job," you protested, feeling the shame rising to your cheeks. "It's generosity, and it has absolutely nothing to do with it."

Vassiléa ignored you royally and whispered in the same mocking tone:

"It is not in the first row that you have the best view, but in the last…"

"I beg your pardon ?"

"… you are not at mass for a priestess but a priest…"

"Vassilea!" you squeaked as silently as possible.

No priest had ever seen himself in the Holy Faith of Pyrenees. The white habit had always been worn by women. If men could regroup in monasteries or abbeys, it would be forever impossible for them to say mass and to pronounce even a single parody of the sacrament. Unless, of course, the reform project discussed for years by the Conclave finally comes to an end, but given the Prelates mulish brains, that was not for the next day ahead.

"You are our soul, our hope and our salvation, Lost sources of Xadia," babbled Opeli far ahead under the stone vaults. "You who were generous enough to give us life and teach us forgiveness and mercy, may you forgive the arrogance of some black sheep and bad apples ..."

"… a divorced priest moreover," persisted Vassilea, "willingly perjury about the vow of chastity, decked out in two brats, dressed endlessly in black and not in white, versed in goety, dissection, the dark arts, spells, occult practices and hmmm, anatomy… "

" Blah, blah, blah, I can't hear anything, the sweet voice of the High Prelate lifts me up in the divine light of the Sources ... and then all that is part of his charm..."

" ... whose arrogant air makes him barely bearable to almost half the yard ..."

" Not even true..."

"… whose endless snoring invariably prevents the whole court from hearing mass ..."

" Vassilea!" you exclaim loud enough to attract a "hush!" imperious from this old cold-fish of Lord Thibalt, sitting in front of you.

"… and whose huge ivory cane that he drags everywhere," replied Vassilea when the gargoyle had turned, "most certainly serves to compensate for a little something."

You suddenly turned your head to your right. Fortunately, the handsome, oh, so handsome talker, who even in his snoring sleep could not leave those, oh, so concerned features, had heard nothing of it. His daughter, on the other hand, a frail brat about seven years old, stuck to her father, looked up from her enormous book and threw a glance at you and your companion, so cold that you both shivered.

"Dirty little mongrel of a chick-crow," you thought, and you tightened your silk mantilla around your carefully braided bun.

Rumours and speculations concerning the kinship of Lord Viren's two children (Soren, nine, and Claudia, seven) were rife at court. They had been assigned for example the High Prelate - she and Viren bickered with such ardour that it could not have happened something between these two. His legendary aversion to clerics added to the strict prohibition of the latter from carrying offspring only made the thing spicier: The Dove and the Crow, what a beautiful heading for a song! Amongst the candidates were also Lady Esmeraldine, because she had black hair and green eyes like Claudia and, as the Queen's servant, some contacts were far from improbable; Erichtoë, a luscious Durenian servant who was said to know something about dark magic; and many others ... Even Queen Sarai had not been spared by hearsay. You had just arrived at the court when this stupid idea had crossed your mind. In your eyes, there was no doubt that a passionate threesome stood at the top of power.

« I don't know where you get these wacky ideas from," your mother sighed when you told her about your suspicions, "because it's common knowledge that the know-it-all crow Lord Viren divorced just two years ago."

You had shrugged. This version was not very compelling. Or, perhaps mentioning the difficulties opposed by the Faith to this still new practice ... but that was not worth the salt of the love triangle.

"And then," continued your mother, "It is enough to look at the queen to see that she refrains from strangling our Grand Mage as soon as he pretends to approach his majesty."

"Precisely," had you insisted, "Is this not proof of bold jealousy between these three? The tension is, at the very least, overwhelming. They spend all their days stuck together. They've known each other for years. And the little prince gets along wonderfully with Soren and Claudia, and he has green eyes like her, and ... "

"Listen, my dear," sighed your mother again, for she spoke only with a sigh, "you better get down to something useful. Or upping your nose with a rubber hose, because in case it escaped your piercing gaze, which I very much doubt, I try to analyse this most boring theology work for my next conferences. "

"But come on, mother ..."

"Frankly," she continued without even listening to you because she never listened to you, "I thank the printing press every day for existence. I can hardly imagine the despair of the unfortunate copyist who had to spend whole years on this crystal-waving nonsense ... "

Whether their progenitor was the fairy queen, a whore from the Suburb of Pillows or a laboratory test tube, little Soren and Claudia were both brought up at court. Despite their promptitude to sneak into the kitchens to raid the jams, to giggle at jokes of a very bad taste or understood only by themselves and to enrage the castle's guards with their tricks; each of them was promised to more than prominent positions.

By the-Sources-knew what bewitchment, Lord Viren had even obtained a very express favour from Their Majesties, however renowned for their intransigence: Soren could miss Sunday Mass (a privilege that the whole court envied him) to participate in the training of the royal guards. Or to parasitise, depends on your allegiance. Claudia meanwhile was required to attend sermons - and as her father's daughter and rightful heir, did not listen to a word of it and always brought enormous books to pass the time. Without willing the fantasy as far as becoming their second mother, you would readily see yourself as a benevolent and affectionate but firm chaperone. A veneer of manners would not do them any harm, did you dream in the secret of your room, and then their father would undoubtedly be delighted to see them find back a semblance of balance.

"Love your enemies," announced the High Prelate far to the other end of the nave, "do good, and lend without hoping for anything. And your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the All-Mighty Sources, for They are good even for the ungrateful and for the bad. "

Her Holiness licked her finger again and turned a page of her copy of the Toreha. Someone in the audience yawned loudly. Several had begun to doze. Viren jumped, fell asleep again, snored more and Claudia horned a corner of her book.

You reached into your pocket and felt the silk of the honey candy bag. Without a doubt, Soren and Claudia would appreciate this little something special. It was a well-known fact that every child loved honey candies. Viren, on the other hand…

Your hand came to curl around the second gift. You did not have to dig your brains too hard to find it, this one: it was the magic oyster from which came out the few precious pearls that you had sown here and there during this memorable evening, two weeks ago ...

Of all the balls celebrating the arrival of spring, Lord Viren had deigned to present himself to only one. However, he distinguished himself by his ease. His tall stature and haughty manners frightened the dancers, but you had not been intimidated. Oh, you still had chills just by thinking of the way his arms tightly surrounded you, hugged you gently as he spun you in music and a storm of silk.

"You dance marvellously, my lord," you had extricated yourself.

"You too, madam."

Then, silence. You had the most considerable difficulty speaking, breathing and thinking while you were in the arms of the High Mage. Not to mention that you have to unscrew your neck to be able to look it in the eyes. I dance with him, he talks to me, touches me. You could perceive the warmth and the firm muscles of his long body through the black brocade.

"Are you still so charming, or is it my lucky day?"

"Is it your rule to speak while dancing?"

You were not going to let yourself be dismantled for so little. You get a new sense of ease in the rhythm of the flute, the viol and the tambourine before responding.

"Only if I consider my partner as worthy of this honour."

Oh, he was worth all the trouble in the world, actually. Particularly draped in this half-cape of black brocade stapled in purple, in this tunic embroidered with sand arabesques, which espoused its movements so gracefully. His beautiful grey eyes narrowed:

"You are too kind. In comparison, my ignorance makes me feel ashamed. I cannot even remember your name."

Had you been a sort of chippy, you would have taken offence and left him there, but you only managed to emit a charmed chuckle as the music sent you to rotate each on its own:

"Oh, your remarkable brain must simply take note of too many things essential to the prosperity of Katolis ..." You accepted his gentle hand around your fingers. "... to think of cluttering up such trivialities."

He laughed, visibly flattered. What a charming laugh he has, you thought.

"Imagine, madam, a demarcated space that you divide in half. You can always divide the two halves into two other halves, and so on."

You were well aware of this paradox. Your parents had bent your hear with it for years; but now that it was spoken in such a low voice, with such gallant inflexions, you found in it all the charms of the world. What could be more normal, coming from a dark mage, and therefore an expert in charms, bewitchments, spells and incantations?

"So this is how memory works, in your opinion: infinitely expandable?"

Viren drew you close to him, and you found that this slightly interested expression suited him perfectly.

"Would you be so fond of paradoxes, my dear ..."

"(name)," you confessed, and you felt yourself blushing even more.

He looked thoughtful, but the two of you jumped at the cry from the pastry buffet: "Hey, father! Try "Cumulonimbus "!". You looked over your partner's large shoulder and the dancing couples to see the two chick-crows, Soren and Claudia, who, spurting out a storm of jelly tarts crumbs, giggled and exchanged elbows.

"Uh, I beg your pardon me, my lord," you stammered, disconcerted, "but ... what did your son just say ?"

Viren then rolled his eyes in the most exasperated expression you had ever seen:

"Something stupid, I'm afraid."

You separated for a few measures before coming back into each other's arms. Oh, those severe features... you felt like his solid arm around your waist was about to leave you, for all your beautiful assurance had abandoned you. Dirty brats ... a pox on them and their incomprehensible bellowings!

"Madam, tell me something."

You thought you heard it wrong. "I beg your pardon, my lord?"

"Tell me something." he went on, in the satisfied tone of someone who had spared his little effect. "If what you say is true, I will give you the next dance. Otherwise, I will leave you there."

You were propelled on a small primitive candy pink cloud while the viol flew away in the treble. The magic of the Sky-Wing elves surged through your human veins, and that of the Star-Touch sparkled your eyes. It was one of your parents' favourite paradoxes. Viren made it easy for you. He rolled out the red carpet for you, he tore the breach apart for you. To believe that he really wanted to feel your hand pass through his well-groomed hair, caress his sharp cheekbone, flatter his so baroque beard, follow the outline of these oh-so-concerned eyebrows, pass the alliance around this ring finger…

Just as you were about to mischievously pronounce the magic formula "You are going to leave me there", the music abruptly slowed down and stopped. The dancers were already bowing, including yourself, and looking up, Viren looked at you with such a contemptuous air that you were left breathless. Oh, but what made me wait so long? you vexed yourself, watching his black half-cape fall gracefully as he walked away towards the-Sources-knew-where, probably towards the cheese buffet, or pray her Grace Sarai to honour him with a dance, or interrupt the last marvellous idea of his brats. He took my silence for hesitation and foolishness. Oh, I ruined everything ...

And today was the perfect opportunity to correct the situation.

Having taken great care to your hair - carefully twisted by your maid in a braided updo in elven fashion, your outfit - purple silks embroidered with red, gold brooch and bear arms, and your perfume - you had tried one half a dozen before setting your sights on a rose fragrance; in short, you had carefully put all the odds on your side.

Of course, you were under no illusions: your good looks were not your only asset, far from it. Lord Viren was known for his unconditional love of libraries, being buried in books very late at night to the point that he had lost the use of beds to prefer that of the oh so uncomfortable benches of the Sanctuary. So your hand caressed the little volume in your pocket with all the kindness in the world. Enigmas, paradoxes and insoluble problems, headlined the cover page. And, calligraphed just below by your quill pen: "except perhaps for you." You had hesitated with "except, for you, perhaps", or "for you, except, perhaps", and to finish off with a "my lord", which gave a choice: "except perhaps for you, my lord "," except, my lord, perhaps for you "," My lord, except, for you, perhaps "and "for you, my lord, except, perhaps.". Then you realised that the formula would probably be too full to suit the close friendship to which you aspired, which made you set your sights on the first attempt. A close friendship, and maybe more. You simply added your first name and tenderly blew on the still fresh ink. Just your first name: there was no doubt that the dance was still as vivid in his memory as it was in yours.

"The Sources teach us that love is given without expecting anything in return," babbled the High Prelate under the vaults once the nuns had finished their pious fourths, fifths and sixths, "and that one can't buy love. They brought Xadia out of nothing, overwhelmed it with their generosity and their benevolence, expecting nothing in return for the spread of this love and this ... this ... "

You were drawn out of your flowery thoughts by the rustling of unsuccessfully turned pages, followed by annoyed mumbles. You and Vassilea unscrew your necks together: far away at the other end of the nave, Opeli was fighting with her copy of the Toreha:

"This ... forgive me, my lords, but this page ..."

She licked her finger, pinched the paper, muttered insults to the fool who had used this new printing ink which made the vellum stick, removed her richly decorated copy from the varnished ebony lectern. In the audience, there were wonderings, whisperings, chuckling.

"Opeli, perhaps I can provide you some help…"

"No, your Grace, you, slurp, you are very kind, but ... but ..."

You risked a glance to your right. If Viren still hadn't quit his sleepiness, you found that Claudia was exceptionally agitated, all of a sudden. Her back was shaken with convulsions, and her little legs were frantic in the incense dust. Look at her fidgeting on her bench. It's as if she had the devil in her.

"Is it me or ... is she just dying of laughter?" you murmured, but Vassilea did not hear you, as busy as she was babbling with her neighbour in front.

Should I have the sleeper? You caught yourself thinking you might wake him up with a kiss. However, you were torn from your reveries by the sound of a cough that emanated from the other end of the nave. Increasingly puzzled glances were exchanged. People left their drowsiness, people quit their reverie, people stopped cleaning their nails or their noses. The concerned survey flew from look to look and from mouth to mouth. Voices and coughs rose under the vaults of the sanctuary. Some rose from their benches and gathered around the gaping High Prelate; however, Queen Sarai had removed her her hood, opened the collar of her cassock and started to give her massive pats on the back while His Majesty cried out to let her some space. The little prince started to cry.

"No, kof, sire, I assure you ... I swear that everything is, kof, kof, perfectly, huurng... perfectly fine!" assured the High Prelate, whose borborygmus intensified until nausea.

"Breathe, Opeli, just breathe, that's it! Oh, you, just move away, you scavengers !"

However, the movement began to gain assistance, including nuns. Useless prayers were muttered, inutiles advices were shouted. The benches and the triforiums began to bleat like the lambs from the Toreha. Half of them were standing, wringing their necks for a better view. The other, whether driven by the opportunity to seize or seized themselves by fear, rushed casually through the central alley and the aisles towards the portal of the sanctuary with one idea: be with the devil as soon as possible.

"(name), come on! Get up!" peeped Vassiléa, grabbing your shoulder. She was apparently part of the second category.

It would have been wise to follow her, but you were as if you were screwed to your bench. And this little chick-crow choking on laughter. Poison, did you understand. Poison on the very pages of the Toreha.

You bound from the bench and grabbed Viren's shoulder. He was the only sleeper who hadn't woken up.

"My lord, get up!" you bellowed. "We have to go!"

"What are you doing? Just drop him!" squealed Vassilea before joining the silk tidal wave.

Faced with Viren who continued to snore, you hesitated to give him a slap. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Claudia suddenly calming down. This child is mad, you thought, stark raving mad. From the chick-crow's lips pulled out something strange, which you did not understand. Then her eyes opened on a purple glow. An abyss of purple. You jumped, wanted to silence her, but could only remain crucified on the spot. So that's what Dark Magic is. When, in Claudia's eyes, a void of darkness replaced the purple, making her look like a fly, you knew this was the end. The Romanesque portal of the Sanctuary was wide open, and daylight pierced the nave on all sides. There was no one left under the vaults. Except for the convulsing, gaping High Prelate, the royal family, yourself, Lord Viren and ... this little witch ...

You close your eyes and prepare to die. Ô Six lost Sources of Xadia. In the name of the Sky, the Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Earth and the Ocean. Amen.

A few seconds later, you opened an eye.

"Ho!" resounded the voice of the High Prelate, whose inflexions no longer foreshadowed imminent death. "I'm finally breathing!"

You swivelled and watched their Majesties pick up Opélie, hair undone, the collar wide open, the silver tiara crooked and the hood in disorder, but the skin as white and smooth as usual. "May the Sources be praised -burp… ha!"

To the cry of surprise echoed a ridiculous sound ... but so characteristic.

"Crôaaa."

Then, silence.

"Is it ... a toad?" you heard. Her Grace Sarai sounded just as lost as you were.

You had a thrill of horror. You had a holy terror of toads.

The king did not reply. Opeli, back on her feet, watched the beast hopping on the pavement of the sanctuary.

"What is... Six Sources, I..."

Hup ! A second one bound out from her lips. This is but a dream, you told to yourself, your nails clenching into your flesh. Nothing but a very strange dream, and I'm about to wake up.

"What the fuck is that..." her Grace Sarai muttered, back to her old soldiery level of language.

The little royal mongrel bent down, trembling, and picked up one while Opeli was getting her clothes together with a frenetic hurry. "It's a toad, mommy."

No one said a word, except the beasts which were going on with their grotesque wanderings under the high vaults in the sepulchral silence. From jump to jump, the little gargoyles were sauntering under the great saints' stone eyes. The incense was struggling to hide the smell of carrion with rose from the kings asleep under the marble. The candle's tiny glims almost had something pathetic. The dawn's daylight was splinting through the vitrals and the portal wide open like a wound. It was drowning the pious penumbra in a chasm of white light. Those little monsters appeared only clearer.

The stones had echoed nothing but nun's canticles, ever, but neither the Sources nor the gigantic wrapped praying statues rose to smite the outrage. The minuscule blasphemers were jumping and croaking in the holy light with complete impunity.

"Crôa."

You took a few steps in the centre alley, towards the altar, but you stopped, unable to move forward.

King Harrow seemed to be about to open his mouth when two chuckles rose into the nave, very close to you, two high-pitched laughs, two children's laughs, joined by a third one, lower and more discrete. Apparently, Lord Viren had woken up... and was laughing with Claudia while the other crow-chick, Soren, arose from behind a pillar, spitting out all his lungs by dint of laughing. He was the one who laughed the loudest.

But wasn't he supposed to be paraziting the royal guards' training? you heard yourself thinking, while Opeli stammered, straightening her cassock's collar :

"Lord Viren, will you, at last, explain to me what's going on in there ?"

As he didn't answer, to busy to retain a laugh, she rose her voice :

"As if you weren't satisfied enough with disturbing the mass..."

She put her hand to her mouth, to her stomach, bent over in two: wasted effort. A third toad leaps again from her pious lads, redoubling the hilarity of the crows family. You were speechless. To see Viren laugh so bluntly, he whose features were known as nothing but deeply thoughtful, exasperated by the stupidity of others or at best the vaguely contrite or amused grin; that was at least as extraordinary as the presence of toads.

«Opeli, say something religious." suddenly said Sarai, to the astonishment of sane people.

"I beg your pardon?" Opeli said «, and a fourth beast came to complete the croaking concert.

The crows chortled again. The din through the transepts, the triforiums, the naves, the crypts, the chapels, it aroused so much and so much echo that it seemed sanctuary's walls were going to crumble, collapse and fall too.

"My lord!" intervened the queen, and her voice resounded so dryly in the nave that the laughter died immediately, "Would you be kind enough to explain to us the reason for this masquerade. That you invariably spend the whole mass snoring because you are not surprised by your own grandeur, we can accept; but I will not tolerate your preventing ... "

"Oh no, your Grace," he replied. He had risen all at once, to his full height, and had even engaged his mage scepter by banging it against the marble paving which resounded loudly under the vaults; you were amazed by the coldness dryness of his deep voice. "Believe me, I had no idea what was going on today. I swear."

"The word of a dark mage? The big deal - burp!" spat the High Prelate as, summoned by the concept "Word", a fifth beast came to join its comrades. The king glared at her, and she remained silent:

"In this case, how do you explain this masquerade?"

"Mascewhat?" repeated the blond chick-crow with a perfectly bewildered expression.

You suddenly found back all your senses and your reason. Your hand was raised, and your index finger was planted on Claudia, whose face was ravaged by a barely contained giggle:

"She did this!" you denounced, and the resonance of your own voice surprised you.

The look that Viren gave you pierced your heart.

A look to blast Justice herself.

Gazing around, you realised that even their Majesties were frankly disapproving. The betrayal was all the more burning. Here you were who found yourself making common cause with the sanctimonious clap-trap spitter...

Soren stood in front his sister, his fists clenched, ready to fight, but the little girl released the hand that her father had put on her shoulder:

"It was Soren's idea, but I am indeed the prime contractor!" she squealed in a tone of immeasurable pride. "Well, the powder on the book, it was me, I had read it in a novel! It took me weeks to finish this selenic powder, especially since it had to stick to the pages without being seen! "

Your gaze came to rest on the Toréha, which had fallen from the lectern to crash on the ground. "After the bawling with which the Faith stunned us when Toreha was printed two hundred years ago, no one wants to undergo its whining again. Everyone has their copy now, and everyone can now interpret it in their own way!" Although only a printed copy, this book was made according to the rules of art. The illuminations were each hand-painted. The cover alone, crimson leather inlaid with precious stones, was a real work of art. Most of the pages had fallen from the fall, and the glue would render the copy forever unusable.

You had never been very fond of books, but this truth shook you.

"And we also had to put some in the holy water stoup so that everyone receives a little!"

"Ah," muttered the mage, "so that's why you insisted that I dip my hands in it…"

"Yes, and then a spot of dark magic so the prank more would be even more credible -"

"A prank?" remonstrated the High Prelate. "A prank! I almost died, your Majesties, you are witnesses! This child tried to poison me! You will not tell me that I am over-principles!"

You nodded with firmness.

"These ... creatures are from the selenial-shadowed magic," Viren explained in a low voice as if he was lecturing some of complete bonehead, "commonly known as "moon magic", which places them under the seal of illusions. Not only visual ones but also tactile, olfactory and auditory."

He put his staff against the bench with a thousand precautions - the object did not echoed less loudly, then he hunched his endless spine and bent his knee to grab one of the little blasphemers, then straightened up and began to pat it with the palm of his hand:

"In other words, these toads are only the product of a gigantic collective hallucination, and the Your Holiness's convulsions are only the natural reaction of a human body solicited from within by primal magic. It was nothing but an illusion, my lady, which means that at no time were you in danger of death. "

A dismayed silence followed the declaration. The infamous beasts pursued their a capella which resounded under the pious crossheads of warheads. Never had they seemed so real.

You took a deep breath, wiped your hands in your fine gown, bend down in a silk frill and overcame your repulsion to catch one of those. The coldness and the roughness of the pustular skin, the fixedness of the globular eyes, the absence of muzzle, the greyish colour, the viscosity of the drool which flowed in your hand. By the Sources, what a horror ... a grimace of pure disgust distorting your features, you closed your eyes, then your fist, suddenly. You open your eyes, your hand: nothing.

Your empty palm was stared at, then the abandoned benches and triforiums as well.

The idea that the Sanctuary had been deserted, emptied and ridiculed by the fault of mere chimaeras was almost simply inconceivable.

No conversation, no essay, no pamphlet, no book or rant had ever laid bare such a decay. The printing might have dug its grave, but it was simply inconceivable that the collapse would take so little, so little ... A shiver ran through your spine. The Toreha killed the Church, and the Human killed the Sources.

Opeli put her hand to her mouth, bur nothing came out.

"However," said Viren, who still continued to caress his toad, in a softer voice, a fascinated and even admiring tone, "it is the first time in my life that I have seen such tangible illusions and - "

"You, you will have plenty others occasions to show off, but right now, stop this," interrupted Sarai as little Claudia displayed a smug smile of pride. "You two," she went on to the address of the two chick-crows, stop all this shi ... pandemonium. At once."

As if with regret, Claudia pulled out a collar from under her collar and pulled out a shrivelled toad leg from her bag.

"Wait a minute!" Opeli interrupted her incisively. "I hope you don't plan on using dark magic in here! "

"Well, madam," said Viren, "it's either that or you spend the rest of your life spitting illusions and chimaeras. Oh, silly me, that's already the case ..."

"I BEG YOUR PARDON?! -burps! ha, you dirty beast!"

"Crôaaaa!"

"Enough, both of you!" growled the king, in the tone of someone who felt the headache coming.

The endless squabbles of the High Mage and the High Prelate were an integral part of court life, and they were regarded with a particular mixture of fun and lassitude, a bit like watching a brat always laughing at the same joke. Today, however, did not seem in the mood to tolerate their tussles. His Majesty, moreover, had not finished:

"Among all that you could have offered your father," he belched in a tone where pierced like a kind of mischief, "did your choice absolutely had to fall on this farce?"

"Hmm?" said Viren, stopping to caress the toad, which landed very unsightly on the marble paving. "What did you say ?"

You suddenly remembered the weight clogging your pocket and bit your lips.

Viren frowned. Opeli would have proposed to him that he did not look more dazed.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FATHER!" bellowed Soren, without taking into account the resonance of the sanctuary which made the audience wince.

"Did you enjoy the show?" asked Claudia, pulling on the velvet doublet. "You had a lot of fun, huh, right?" Then, as he didn't answer, "Did you ? Yes, you did, did you ? Huh? Huh? Huh, right?"

"Right, dad! Right! Dadadadadadadadadadad -"

Your hand tightened around the small book. Insoluble enigmas, problems and paradoxes, except perhaps for you.

"Dadadadadadadadadaaaaaad -." The croaks of toads and crows, they made quite a duet.

A true Requiem... and not only to your blended family dreams.

Your eyes turned to the High Prelate. She was just as flabbergasted as you were, judging by her stillness and her gaping mouth. The stone seemed to have swallowed her. Petrified. A new statue for the nave, you thought, holy, helpless, pious and terrified facing the march of Progress. This wasn't just the white dove reached by the toad's drool. This wasn't just some sort of priestess carrion over which crows would have a feast on among her fellows dead villagers. This was the terror of the woman of the sanctuary in front of the lead letters, of the silver tiara in front of the race of time, the terror of the priesthood in front of the changing souls.

As you pinged in a whirlwind of silk, perfume, incense, discomfiture and disarray towards the portal of the sanctuary, you heard his Majesty inquiring with all the good nature of the world:

"Maybe you could stop the illusion now?"

"Yes," added her Grace, "it seems to me that you had enough fun for today. Or, wait, maybe you can tinker us some illusion of High Prelate, now that you've broken this one ? "

"Sarai!"

"What? I'm not right? Look at that, darling, it's not moving anymore. Oh, Opeli, please shut that mouth, or you're going to attract flies. And then, come on, smile a little, hey ! It's not the end of the world !"

"Ah, well, it seems you also broke your father, here he is petrified on the spot. They pair well, aren't they? Viren, if I say "history book"," melting camembert" or "crème brûlée torched with whiskey", will you find back the use of your smile or your legs? Aaaah, there, you see!"

"Oh, what a happy, united family... Aaaaaaw, you are so cute when you are happy, Viren !"

"Actually, no, you should stop smiling, it becomes really unhealthy. "

"Crôa, crôa, crôaaa."

"Callum, drop this notebook and this pencil! And you two, stop with these toads, that's enough!"

The last thing you heard before closing the gate on the tomb of the Age of the Gods was the voice of Viren:

"Oh no, Claudia."

Then: "Leave them a little longer, will you?"

And there you go ! : D

Well, I warned you that it was a somewhat special Viren x reader ...

But, I mean, look at the scene where Viren takes power Napoleon style (the one where he is a thousand times sexier than all the scenes of Aaravos put together): everyone completely ignores Opélie to acclaim Viren the Savior ... Okay, everyone is terrified of the elves, all right, but that's not enough to ignore the Church, the law and traditions. There had to be some deeper reasons. Same for Harrow's communism, moreover, he is so enlightened for an absolute monarch of divine right that it can only come from an intellectual broth having macerated for decades, even centuries ... And then look all these huge libraries throughout the castle! Look at how nobody cares about Opeli throughout the series!

I hope you enjoyed the dance in the arms of the dark, tall and handsome advisor ;) and that seeing the Magefam reunited and happy put a little balm in your heart during this complicated period. Fluff, fluff: 3

Reviews are appreciated :3

[ukdamo]

Antinous

Fernando Pessoa

It rained outside right into Hadrian's soul.

The boy lay dead On the low couch, on whose denuded whole, To Hadrian's eyes, that at their seeing bled, The shadowy light of Death's eclipse was shed.

The boy lay dead and the day seemed a night Outside. The rain fell like a sick affright Of Nature at her work in killing him. Through the mind's galleries of their past delight The very light of memory was dim.

O hands that clasped erewhile Hadrian's warm hands, That now found them but cold! O hair bound erstwhile with the pressing bands! O eyes too diffidently bold! O bare female male-body like A god that dawns into humanity! O lips whose opening redness erst could strike Lust's seats with a soiled art's variety!

O fingers skilled in things not to be named! O tongue which, counter-tongued, the throbbed brows flamed! O glory of a wrong lust pillowed on Raged conciousness's spilled suspension! These things are things that now must be no more. The rain is silent, and the Emperor Sinks by the couch. His grief is like a rage, For the gods take away the life they give And spoil the beauty they made live. He weeps and knows that every future age Is staring at him out of the to-be. His love is on a universal stage. A thousand unborn eyes weep with his misery.

Antinous is dead, is dead forever, Is dead forever and the loves lament. Venus herself, that was Adonis' lover, Seeing him again, having lived, dead again, Lends her great skyey grief now to be blent With Hadrian's pain.

Now is Apollo sad because the stealer Of his white body is forever cold. In vain shall kisses on that nippled point Covering his heart-beats' silent place implore His life again to ope his eyes and feel her Presence along his veins this fortress hold Of love. Now no caressing hands anoint With growing joy that body's lusting lore.

The rain falls, and he lies like one who hath Forgotten all the gestures of his love And lies awake waiting their hot return. But all his vices' art is now with Death: He lies with her, whose sex cannot him move, Whose hand, were't not cold, still ne'er his could burn. Lilies were on his cheeks and roses too. His eyes were sad in joy sometimes. He said Oft in his close abandonments, that woo Love to be more love than love can be, «Kiss My eyelids till my closed eyes seem to guess The kiss they feel laid in my heart's breast-bed.»

O Hadrian, what shall now thy cold life be? What boots it to be emperor over all? His absence o'er thy visible empery Throws a dim pall. Now are thy nights widowed of love and kisses, Now are thy days robbed of the night's awaiting, Now are thy lips purposeless and thy blisses No longer of the size of thy life, mating Thy empire with thy love's bold tendernesses.

Now are thy doors closed upon beauty and joy. Throw ashes on thy head! Lo, lift thine eyes and see the lovely boy! Naked he lies upon that memoried bed; By thine own hand he lies uncovered. There was he wont thy dangling sense to cloy, And uncloy with more cloying, and annoy With newer uncloying till thy senses bled.

His hand and mouth knew gamuts musical Of vices thy worn spine was hurt to follow. Sometimes it seemed to thee that all was hollow In sense in each new straining of sucked lust. Then still new crimes of fancy would he call To thy shaken flesh, and thou wouldst tremble and fall Back on thy cushions with thy mind's sense hushed.

«Beautiful was my love, yet melancholy. He had that art, of love's arts most unholy, Of being lithely sad among lust's rages. Now the Nile gave him up, the eternal Nile.

Under his wet locks Death's blue paleness wages Now war upon our pity with sad smile».

Even as he thinks, the lust that is no more Than a memory of lust revives and takes His senses by the hand, and his flesh quakes Till all becomes again what 'twas before. The dead body on the bed gets up and lives Along his every nerve ripped up and twanged, And a love-o'er-wise and invisible hand At every body-entrance to his lust Utters caresses which flit off, yet just Remain enough to bleed his last nerve's strand, O sweet and cruel Parthian fugitives!

He rises, mad, and looks upon his lover, That now can love nothing but what none know. Then his cold lips run all the body over— His lips that scarce remember their warmth, now So blent with feeling the death they behold; And so ice-senseless are his lips that, lo!, He scarce tastes death from the dead body's cold, But it seems both are dead or living both And love is still the Presence and the Mover. Then his lips cease on the other lips' cold sloth.

But there the wanting breath reminds his lips That between him and his boy-love the mist That comes out of the gods has crept. The tips Of his fingers, still idly tickling, list To some flesh-response to their purple mood. But their love-orison is not understood. The god is dead whose cult was to be kissed!

He lifts his hand up to where heaven should be And cries on the mute gods to know his pain. Lo, list!, o divine watchers of our glee

And sorrow!, list!, he will yield up his reign. He will live in the deserts and be parched On the hot sands, he will be beggar and slave; But give again the boy to be arm-reached! Forego that space ye meant to be his grave!

Take all the female beauties of the earth! Take all afar and rend them if ye will! But, by sweet Ganymede, that Jove found worth And above Hebe did elect to fill His cup at his high festivals, and spill His fairer vice wherefrom comes newer birth—, The clod of female embraces resolve To dust, o father of the gods!, but spare This boy and his white body and golden hair. Maybe thy newer Ganymede thou meanst That he should be, and out of jealous care From Hadrian's arms to thine his beauty steal'st.

He was a kitten playing with lust, playing With his own and with Hadrian's, sometimes one And sometimes two, now splitting, now one grown, Now leaving lust, now lust's high lusts delaying, Now eyeing lust not wide, but from askance Jumping round on lust's half-unexpectance; Then softly gripping, then with fury holding, Now playfully playing, now seriously, now lying By the side of lust looking at it, now spying Which way to take lust in his lust's withholding.

Thus did the hours slide from their tangled hands And from their mixed limbs the moments slip. Now were his arms dead leaves, now iron bands, Now were his lips cups, now the things that sip, Now were his eyes too closed, and now too open, Now were his ways such as none thought might happen, Now were his arts a feather and now a whip.

That love they lived as a religion Offered to gods that do to presence bend. Sometimes he was adorned and made to don Half-costumes, now a posing nudity That imitates some god's eternity Of body statue-known to craving men. Now was he Venus, risen from the seas; And now was he Apollo, white and golden; Now as Jove sate he in mock-judgment over The presence at his feet of his slaved lover; Now was he an acted rite, by one beholden, In ever-repositioned mysteries.

Now he is something anyone can be. O white negation of the thing it is! O golden-haired moon-cold loveliness! Too cold! too cold! and love as cold as he. Love wanders through the memories of his vice As through a labyrinth, in sad madness glad, And now calls on his name and bids him rise, And now is smiling at his imaged coming That is i'th'heart like faces in the gloaming-- Mere shining shadows of the forms they had.

The rain again like a vague pain arose And put the sense of wetness in the air. Suddenly did the Emperor suppose He saw this room and all in it from far. He saw the couch, the boy and his own frame Cast down against the couch, and he became A clearer presence to himself, and said These words unuttered, save to his soul's dread:

«I shall build thee a statue that will be To the astonished future evidence Of my love and thy beauty and the sense That beauty giveth of infinity, Though death with subtle uncovering hands remove The apparel of life and empire from our love, Yet its nude statue-soul of lust made spirit All future times, whether they will't or not, Shall, like a curse-seeming god's boon earth-brought, Inevitably inherit.

«Ay, this thy statue shall I build, and set Upon the pinnacle of being-thine. Let Time By its subtle dim crime Eat it from life, or with men's violence fret To pieces out of unity and presence. Ay, let that be! Our love shall stand so great In thy statue of us, like a god's fate, Our love's incarnate and discarnate essence, That, like a trumpet reaching over seas And going from continent to continent, Our love shall speak its joy and woe, death-blent, Over infinities and eternities!

«The memory of our love shall bridge the ages. It shall loom white out of the past and be Eternal, like a Grecian victory, In every heart the future shall give rages Of not being our love's contemporary.

«Yet oh that this were needed not, and thou Wert the red flower perfuming my life, The garland on the brows of my delight, The living flame on altars of my soul! Would all this were a thing thou mightest now Smile at from under thy death-mocking lids And wonder that I should so put a strife Twixt me and gods for thy lost presence bright; Were there nought in this but my empty dole And thy awakening smile half to condole With what my dreaming pain to hope forbids».

Thus went he, like a lover who is waiting, From place to place in his dim doubting mind. Now was his hope a great bulk of will fating Its wish to being, now felt he he was blind In some point of his seen wish undefined.

When love meets death we know not what to feel. When death foils love we know not what to know. Now did his doubt hope, now did his hope doubt. Now what his wish dreamed the dream's sense did flout And to a sullen emptiness congeal. Then again the gods fanned love's darkening glow.

Thy death has given me a newer lust— A flesh-lust raging for eternity. On my imperial will I put my trust That the high gods, that made me emperor be, Will not annul from a more real life My wish that thou shouldst live for e'er and stand A fleshly presence on their better land, More beautiful and as beautiful, for there No things impossible our wishes mar Nor pain our hearts with change and time and strife.

Love, love, my love! thou art already a god. This thought of mine, which I a wish believe, Is no wish, but a sight, to me allowed By the great gods, that love love and can give To mortal hearts, under the shape of wishes— Of wishes strong, having imperial reaches— A vision of the real things beyond Our life-imprisoned life, our sense-bound sense. Ay, what I will thee to be thou art now Already. Already on Olympic ground Thou walkest and art perfect, yet art thou, For thou needst no excess of thee to don To perfect be, being perfection.

«My heart is singing like a morning bird. A great hope from the gods comes down to me And bids my heart to subtler sense be stirred And think not that strange evil of thee That to think thee mortal would be.

«My love, my love! My god-love! Let me kiss On thy cold lips thy hot lips now immortal, Greeting thee at Death's portal's happiness, For to the gods Death's portal is Life's portal.

«Thus is the memory of thee a god Already, already a statue made of me-- Of that part of me that, like a great sea, Girds in me a great red empire more broad Than all the lands and peoples that are in My power's reach. Thus art thou myself made In that great stretch Olympic that betrays The true-wholed gods present in river and glade And hours eternal in its different days.

«So strong my love is that it is thyself, Thy body as it was ere death was it, Towering above the silence infinite That girds round life and its unduring pelf. Even as thou wert in life, thy corporal shade Is in the presence of the gods. My love Permits not that its carnal being fade Or one whit false to fleshly presence prove. Creeds may arise and pass, and passions change, Other ways may be born out of Time's dream, But this our love, made but thy body, 'll range On deathless meads from happy stream to stream.

«Were there no Olympus for thee, my love Would make thee one, where thou sole god mightst prove, And I thy sole adorer, glad to be

Thy sole adorer through infinity. That were a divine universe enough For love and me and what to me thou art. To have thee is a thing made of gods' stuff And to look on thee eternity's best part.

«O love, my love! Awake with my strong will Of loving to Olympus and be there The latest god, whose honey-coloured hair Takes divine eyes! As thou wert on earth, still In heaven bodifully be and roam, A prisoner of that happiness of home, With elder gods, while I on earth do make A statue for thy deathlessness' seen sake.

«That deathless statue of thee I shall build Will be no stone thing, but my great regret By which our love's eternity is willed. My sorrow shall make thee its god, and set Thy naked presence on the parapet That looks over the seas of future times. Some shall say all our love was vice and crimes. Others against our names, as stones, shall whet The knife of their glad hate of beauty, and make Our name a pillory, a scaffold and a stake Whereon to burn our brothers yet unborn. Yet shall our presence, like eternal morn, Ever return at Beauty's hour, and shine Out of the East of Love, and be the shrine Of future gods that nothing human scorn.

«My love for thee is part of what thou wert And shall be part of what thy statue will be. Our double presence unified in thee Shall make to beat many a future heart. Ay, were't a statue to be broken and missed, Yet its stone-perfect memory Would, still more perfect, on Time's shoulders borne, Overlook the great Morn From an eternal East.

«Thy statue is of thyself and of me. Our dual presence has its unity In that perfection of body, which my love, In loving it, did out of mortal life Raise into godness, set above the strife Of times and changing passions far above.

«The end of days, when Jove is born again, And Ganymede again pour at his feast, Shall see our dual soul from death released And recreated unto love, joy, pain, Life—all the beauty and the vice and lust, All the diviner side of flesh, flesh-staged. And, if our very memory wore to dust, By the giant race of the end of ages must Our dual presence once again be raised.»

It rained still. But slow-treading night came in Closing the weary eyelids of each sense. The very consciousness of self and soul Grew, like a landscape through dim raining, dim. The Emperor lay still, so still that now He half forgot where now he lay, or whence The sorrow that was still salt on his lips. All had been something very far, a scroll Rolled up. The things he felt were like the rim That haloes round the moon when the night weeps.

His head was bowed into his arms, and they On the low couch, foreign to his sense, lay. His closed eyes seemed open to him and seeing The naked floor, dark, cold, sad and unmeaning. His hurting breath was all his sense could know. Out of the falling darkness the wind rose And fell. A voice swooned in the courts below. And the Emperor slept.

The gods came now And bore something away, no sense knows how, On unseen arms of power and repose.

[obsidiancorner]

Celebrity Overnight- Chapter 1

Obiyuki Bingo 2019

Celebrity

Words: ~3400

Outside the heavily tinted windows of the limousine, she could see reporters and paparazzos lining the gallery behind long bands of scarlet rope and gilded posts. It was the most ridiculous tradition built into blockbuster premiers. 

The familiar sense of dread that always accompanied such events began to creep under Shirayuki's skin. It crawled all over her body, tucked between flesh and muscle like the scarab beetle from that one scene in that one movie her father's company had made years ago.

Premiers and awards shows were a part of Hollywood fame and fortune she had never gotten used to. There was little to be done about attendance when her father owns Mountain Lions Studios, though. She grinned and beared it. But they never got more comfortable for her. She hated being in the public eye when all she wanted to do was study to become a doctor.

A warm hand wrapped itself around hers, squeezing slightly before twining its fingers with hers. She looked to her left to find questioning amber eyes blinking back at her.

"I'm fine," Shirayuki said. "I've just never gotten used to these things." 

"Me neither," Obi replied, squeezing her hand once more. 

The reassurance was nice, if futile. Butterflies began to flutter in her stomach, making her feel as though it would be an act of divine intervention if her dinner didn't make its own appearance at the premier, right there on the red carpet, as well. 

Her stomach flopped heavily as the slow roll of the limo came to a stop. A third squeeze hugged her fingers and his comforting presence was gone. His door shut quietly behind him but the sound was deafening to ears dreading the guaranteed upcoming onslaught of shouts of her and Obi's names, camera flashes, and fussy ushers moving everyone along. 

What was she doing attending the premier of her father's movie with the leading action star? She had no business being the woman on his arm. The man dated top tier fashion models and A-listers in both film and music . She was just an heiress with a dream of helping people. She was far from his type.

This wasn't a pairing that would be even remotely believable. What was she thinking? 

No, what had her father and Obi's reps been thinking? And why was he going along with it?

No… Really... What was she thinking? 

She wasn't. That's the hard truth. Her father had asked her to go and, along with Obi's team of 'people,' had orchestrated some extra publicity by having Obi be her escort and, because it was her father, she had obliged without really thinking it through. She willingly stepped into the eye roll worthy scheming of Hollywood politics. 

What better way to drum up some extra buzz than to have the action star show up with the daughter of the film’s production company's owner on his arm. Talk of their "relationship" was guaranteed to be the talk of every gossip mag published within the week. 

Couple that with well-staged photo ops of them at predetermined locations on predetermined days, where the paparazzi just "happen to be" in the right place at the right time to hit some perfectly angled shots of the two of them being cozy with each other, and Obi and her father's film, by extension, would be locked in as the talk of Tinsel Town for the duration of the summer. 

Shirayuki dropped her head into her hands and groaned into her elbow-length gloves. Hollywood was a nightmare. The next few weeks dating an actor of all people would be a living hell. No wonder her mother had worked tirelessly to keep her out of the limelight when she was younger. 

Her door opened and the roar of the gathered vultures was matched by the clicking of their camera shutters. Obi's hand and smiling face filled her vision. For a brief moment, she contemplated swinging the door closed and telling the driver to get her out of there as fast as he could. 

"It's alright, Miss. There's nothing in your teeth, your dress is stunning, your makeup is flawless, your hair is still glued in place with hairspray, and I promise I won't let you fall." He flashed his brilliant white teeth at her, a smile full of confidence and charm. 

She chuckled, relaxing slightly. At least he was smooth enough to say the right things to put a woman at ease before facing down a flock of cameras that truly do tell no lies. The last thing anyone should do is step out looking unsure. 

With a deep breath in, she swung her legs out onto the pavement. She stood before she exhaled, smile plastered on her face like she was a debutante at her ball. 

"Mr. Nanaki!" 

"Shirayuki!"

The calls came from everywhere. All the way to the end of the horde, people were yelling their names. It was nothing any training could ever truly prepare someone for and, make no mistake, they did train celebrities for this sort of event. But she wasn’t really a celebrity. 

She wound her arm around his proffered elbow and they began walking the handful of steps to the first of the photogs. They both stopped, working in tandem. Moving their faces and body positions from right to left, posing for each camera for a picture before taking a handful of steps and repeating the pattern. 

She had gone through the same event training as the celebrities. She knew how it worked. She was just out of practice, having successfully made excuses to not attend premiers or awards for since she was sixteen. 

Shirayuki's shoulders were stiff, muscles seizing and aching under the pressure of pulling off a faux romance. She kept reminding herself it was all political- a ploy for free movie publicity. She just needed to smile through it. It was a half hour of media pleasantries, then a movie.

It wasn't helpful. Just a stark reminder of the stakes should her own acting chops fall flat under the microscope. The only purpose it served was to increase her nerves, heart rate, and breathing.  

Beside her, Obi leaned down, mouth near her ear. Somewhere in the distance, the cameras shuttered furiously, but she barely heard it over the warm breath fanning over the shell of her ear. In another context, it would have been intimate. Here, on the red carpet, it was a lifeline to sanity.

Shirayuki fought the urge to let her eyelids fall closed at the sensation- to focus solely on him. It had been a while since a man had been this far into her personal space. His muscles in the arm she was holding tensed under her fingertips as she squeezed lightly, hugging her hand between his arm and the side of his chest. She leaned in a little further, to play up their ruse.  They were supposed to be a couple, afterall.

They’d never been seen together in public, so it would certainly have people wondering how long they’d been an item. After a well-placed brief pause to make the reporters speculate over what he could be saying to her, he whispered, “Picture them naked.”  

That startled a laugh out of her. If comedy was how they would make it through the gauntlet before they could take their seats, she would be perfectly fine. Comedy she could handle. 

She changed their position, dropping his arm so he could wind it around her waist and she could step closer to him. She tipped her chin up to so her lips were next to his ear, like his had just been near hers. "You do realize that isn't as helpful as it sounds, right?"

Okay, so maybe she couldn’t do comedy. But the many eyes on them made it thinking of witty retorts on the spot quite the challenge. 

As expected, the more time they spent laughing and joking- dutifully playing the role of a smitten couple, the more speculative whispers and observant eyes followed their every move. Disembodied voices in every direction bellowed one of their names followed by "over here" or "look here." 

Pause. Pose and smile. Right to left so everyone gets their picture.  Walk.  Repeat. 

"Shirayuki! Let us see the back of the dress!"

Obi removed his hand from her waist, letting his fingers drag against the skin of her mostly exposed back before reaching down to once again hold her hand as she slowly turned. She peered over her shoulder, demure with the shy teasing smile she'd been taught years ago. She felt naked to the world. Unprotected. That brief moment of exposure seemed to last an eternity.

"Beautiful, Shirayuki. Thank you!" 

"We're almost there, Shirayuki. You're doing excellent," Obi whispered in her ear, as she turned back to face forward so they could walk to the next group. 

"I feel faint, like I can't breathe," she admitted. 

"Well, if you decide to pass out, I'll be sure to catch you," he teased before smiling and waving toward another camera as he pulled her in just a little closer. "Don't worry. We're almost done out here. Then, we just have to tackle the interviewer in the lobby."

Oh, crap. The interviews.

A nervous chuckle burst out of her, just shy of an awkward volume, and the heat of a blush slowly crept its way over her cheeks, nose, and down her neck. 

It'd be a miracle if people didn't notice her sudden redness. Maybe they'd just assume he had said something risque to her, she thought. It was immediately followed by regret when her ears then began to burn.

Oh, that was worse. That just added fuel to the fire blazing from her hairline to her exposed collar bones.

"Talk to me," he whispered, way closer to her blushing ears than he had been not even a second before.

"Just… nervous… about the interview," she managed to say around a breathing speed that was nearing hyperventilation.

His hand at her waist squeezed reassuringly. "Don't worry. You have the easy part."

"How do you figure?" She didn't mean to sound snappish but that commented grated on her nerves. Amid panic, she was in no mood to be patronized.

To his credit, he just shrugged it off and replied, "You know how Hollywood is. Sexism still rules here, shameful as it is. I'll get questioned about the movie and they'll undoubtedly ask you something stupid like, 'what designer are you wearing tonight?' or something stupid about your underwear."

He was right. That is exactly how these things typically went. Despite the actresses calling out sexist questions in recent years, they still always got questions about being working moms, if they were able to wear underwear under certain costumes, and what designers crafted their ensembles. 

It was enough to ease the flare of her temper. It wasn’t his fault. He was just speaking the honest truth. There was nothing left but to return to there banter. "Aww, you don't think they'll care who designed that suit or want to know whether you’re wearing boxers or briefs?"

“Not standing next to you and that dress, they won't." His smile was blinding and surprisingly honest. Then he winked at her and she stopped moving. 

He winked at her. 

“Hey, Shirayuki," he said, eyes locked on hers.

The summer night air was cool against her back where his hand had been as he looped her arm back into the crook of his elbow. She was staring. She knew she was. He was so handsome and how exactly had she gotten here again? 

A small hum was all she could manage, lost in his eyes as she was. Somewhere deep inside she balked at how cliche she was. The rest of her, though, was becoming a little more at ease with the situation. 

"We made it passed the vultures.We’re almost free. Let's get the interview over with. Shall we?"

She nodded sharply as they turned the corner, fake-genuine smiles back in place. 

Up ahead, standing on a raised platform two steps off the ground, Mukaze stood with her adopted younger brother, Kazuki, and an interviewer that looked like a frat boy film student who needed extra credit and had been stuffed unwillingly into the discomfort of a suit for the pleasure of a vindictive professor. Probably some pitiful intern who had been roped into doing a senior staff member’s job so they could rub elbows with the rich and famous.

"Ah, the man of the hour himself! And my daughter, too!" Mukaze called, gesturing for them to join the interview already in progress.

Obi placed his left hand over her hand still nestled into his elbow and gave it a small squeeze as they made through the throngs of onlookers from socialite heirs and heiresses to other big name celebrities that were loitering by the mock stage. 

Shirayuki sucked in a quick breath- a vain attempt to calm her nerves. Interviews were worse than the mindless gossip mag zombies out front. At least out there she wasn't expected to give intimate details about her underwear or something else equally as intrusive. 

“I'm here. I've got you," Obi said again. The same type of affirmation he'd been whispering into her ear since they had arrived. 

It was actually comforting coming from him. He wasn't condescending. He never made her feel as though he was a glorified babysitter that, at the ripe age of twenty-three, she was way too old to need. He was just strong and sturdy and in trapped just as deep in this charade as she was. 

He stepped away long enough, to bow down just a little and offered her his hand to help her up the steps. She took it, trusting him not to let her fall in the stupid heels Yuzuri had insisted she wear because, "my goodness, Shirayuki, he's so tall!"

He followed her up the steps, once again settling a hand on her waist as he stepped closer. He really was quite the actor, never letting a single detail slip. Impressive, really.

"We were just talking about you, my boy," Mukaze said, reaching around both Kazuki and Shirayuki to give Obi a sound thump on the back. 

Obi grinned his thousand-watt smile at them all. "All good things, I hope."

"Indeed. Indeed," said the reporter. "Mr. Lyon here said that you were wonderful to work with, often doing your own stunts and nailing them in one take."

Obi chuckled. "That is true. I guess I just prefer the production crew not needing to worry about switching camera angles to avoid the use of a stunt double being obvious. I prefer a hands-on approach."

"I think I see your film's leading lady coming up behind you so unfortunately that's all we have time for," the interviewer said into the mic. "Enjoy your film." 

The man let Mukaze and Kazuki leave. Shirayuki began to follow but the man held Obi back a moment. 

"Hey, bud. Have fun getting 'hands-on' with the producer's daughter tonight."

Obi laughed… sort of. Not the type of laugh that spoke of humor but the annoyed chuckle an offended person lets out while they're deciding how to handle the situation. "Yeah..."

Obi's pause was disconcerting and, despite it sounding less than amused, her mind immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. 'Yeah?' What does that mean? Did he have more plans for them than she had agreed to? Why 

Every little girl grows up learning to be vigilant. Men aren't always what they appear to be. They're usually superior in height, weight, and strength- especially when you're a short and slender woman like she is. Her brain began a self-preservatory run down of options.

There were cameras everywhere in the lobby and more outside. Escaping through the front would be impossible, not without causing a scandal anyway. She could possibly sneak out a side exit or something. Maybe the bathroom had a window? If they get seated near her father, she can just go to the family estate with them instead of Obi dropping her off at her apartment but...

"Yeah… Yeah. What's your name?"

Obi's voice cut through the cluttered, rapid-fire thoughts of escaping a situation that wouldn't turn out well for her and she turned to look at him. 

His eyebrows were pinched together, nostrils flaring just a bit. Oh. Oh… 'Yeah' was the word of barely disguised disgust as Obi's line of patience was stretched thin and then pushed beyond its breaking point.

"Uh.. umm.. Gary?"

"Gary what?"

"Ha.. Hatfield?"

All Shirayuki could do was stand there. The whole display was unfolding in whispered tones. Anyone looking on would see nothing more than two guys talking quietly, but the kid's mic was still recording. 

"Hollywood Tonight is the show with exclusive rights to tonight's pre-premier festivities, correct?"

"Yes?"

With that, Obi straightened and clapped the kid too hard on the back of his shoulder. "Excellent. Good luck with work come Monday," he said casually as he turned back to Shirayuki. "Sorry about that. Let's go find our seats, shall we?"

He took her, gently but firmly by the wrist, taking shorter steps than her own so he could pull her back to his side. As soon as he had her close to him, his arm wound around her back and his hand found the dip of her waist again. 

When they were well out of earshot and beginning the slopes descent into the theater proper, Shirayuki finally found her voice again. "What was that? Were you a bodyguard in another life or something? Maybe a knight who would defend a woman’s honor?"

She tried to keep her voice light, teasing almost. That was nothing more than Hollywood's usual crap. Girls come easy and boys get what they want without repercussions. But she knew she failed, sounding more awed than amused. She was a bit annoyed with herself though. Everything had happened so fast but normally she was much better about sticking up for herself. 

Obi laughed heartily, letting his head fall back and stopping forward motion so neither of them tripped while he wasn't watching where they were going. Several people turned around in their seats to see what was causing the commotion. Shirayuki flushed again and tapped his hand to bring his attention back to where they needed to go. 

She couldn't wait for the lights to go out. She needed to be able to disappear for a while. 

"Possibly," he mused as he spotted Mukaze saving seats for them and he began steering her toward her family. "But who's to say?"

She hummed a response as she thought back to the interview. "What's going to happen to him on Monday?" 

"I wonder."

They sat down in the open seats next to Mukaze as the lights dimmed and brightened three times in succession signaling one minute to the start of the movie. 

"What took you two so long," Mukaze teased, looking entirely too pleased with himself. Kazuki, off to Mukaze's right, also wore a suspicious smirk but Shirayuki didn’t have the emotional capacity after the last half hour to try and decipher what they were so happy about.

"Oh, you know, the usual. We thought we'd stop by the liquor store to pick up a few bottles of tequila... maybe find some drugs and a washed out rock star to do them with."

Shirayuki was the one to laugh this time, relief at having made it through the last half-hour of wasted time and energy without too much headache making everything feel lighter. Even breathing was easier now that she was seated with Obi and her family. 

The fact that Obi had managed to say that with a completely straight face just made it that much funnier. Mukaze laughed, too. Clearly they had spent some time together on set over the previous summer and knew each other’s sense of humor. 

"Is that all? Well, just make sure you're able to survive the after-party," Mukaze said, still chuckling, as the lights dimmed and the opening cinematics started. 

The blood drained from Shirayuki’s face. All the breath wooshed out of her like she had been punched in the gut. 

She'd forgotten about the after party. 

[uminohotaru]

Dororo final, some guesses

Gonna rant myself into the oblivion because i don't know how else to deal with all this suffering. So, i think it's already obvious that Daigo land is gonna perish, Kagemitsu will probably end up like Sabame which is dying by the hand of his own people who used to praise him, and Dororo will use her money to help people start anew. Taho will be killed by Hyakki and i won't even hope for any different outcome, for hope will only make me feel worse once it's broken.

So, the big question is whether Hyakki can be saved after what he's done or not. Probably yes, and for that we have not only Dororo, but mother and mama Jukai as well, to play their parts. I can't imagine how exactly, though. Our boys totally lost it. Hyakki, on the one hand, acts as a weapon of karma, making the whole domain pay the consequences of thriving upon a child sacrifice, but on the other hand - does it make his actions good? Nope. Karma is just mechanics, it's not a divine punishment, and vengeance only makes its wheel spin endlessly. So, while Hyakki's rampage "serves" as consequences Daigo domain must pay, on itself it is just another evil that shall have the consequences, too. But i doubt this anime will kill Hyakki. Most likely Hyakki & Dororo duo will remain, Dororo bringing light to his life just like the OP implies.

But what bothers me is who will rule the domain after everything is done. Nui? Hyakki, as a true heir? Lol i can't imagine that. Taho would be perfect but Taho is done for, rip my child, i will forever cry for you.

The whole Taho's line, being a total remake of his original plain evil character, i'm afraid, served the sole purpose: to show that your intentions can be good and noble but dealing with demons is still a taboo. Morally, Taho is a total contrast to his father: selfless, cares for people, wants the wars to stop, understands that sacrificing children is evil and that killing his brother is "much too immoral" (his own words), but he makes the same choice: accept the deal. For totally different reasons than his father - for saving people. And he ends up a literal incarnation of Asura. The moral implied is clear as day: your intentions don't matter, your actions do.

But if that's so, it should be the same way for Hyakki. Meaning: his reasons don't matter, it's what he does that matters. And thus we have both brothers turning into literal demons.

At this point i have to deny my own assumption about who survives. If we follow this logic through, then it's either the both brothers should be saved, or both go to hell. They both are right in their motives and both are wrong in their actions. But i can't see the way to keep them both. Maybe mamas will?

Ah, why am i indulging in hope again. But i just can't NOT hope that Nui will stop ignoring Taho and do something for him in the end. Nah, unrealistic. Probably she'll remain focused on Hyakki and his salvation. No, hope, i don't need you, go away.

But... just look, wouldn't it be beautiful? Jukai, who used to say that "people can't be saved that easily" saves Hyakki in the end, and hahaue who used to ignore Taho saves him? It would be so awesome 😭 But most likely both mamas who at one point said to Hyakki "I can't save you!" will join forces in saving Hyakki, and Taho... at least Taho has Hyogo&Mutsu who said "We would follow you even to the depths of hell". And they will 😭😭😭

[houkagokappa]

Sarazanmai Main PV analysis

Third time’s the charm. With Sarazanmai airing tomorrow I finally want to go through the main PV and give you my thoughts and impressions and observations from it.

The timing hasn’t been too bad since the official English subbed trailer came out yesterday when Crunchyroll announced they would add Sarazanmai to their simulcast for Spring 2019.

I don’t really have any authority to comment on the translation. It’s professionally made and it’s good. There are some translation differences to mine (I never translated the main PV, but they reuse a lot of the phrases I’ve translated in the past). For the most part I’ve been more literal (mainly so that I can retain as much original information as possible, even at the cost of it sounding chunkier).

Japanese is a very contextual language with room for many interpretations, especially when the full context is missing, so seeing differences in the translations are to be expected. The only difference I find eye-catching is the phrase “Suck out the greed” since they clearly use 欲望 desire/lust. Maybe the translator knows something about the upcoming episodes that I don’t? 

The PV starts with the same beautiful gloomy music from the Tsunagaru PV and Kazuki jogging/running in Asakusa. He’s wearing the matching bracelet he shares with Enta around his ankle. We specifically see shots of the red Azuma Bridge as well as Tokyo Skytree and Asahi Beer Hall in the background on the other side of the river. The stage is Asakusa alright.

Then there’s this wild spark in the middle of Kazuki’s melancholic narration about wanting to connect but not being able to.

Pink’s an unusual colour for sparks but plays on Ikuhara’s typical use of colours. It seems to be revealing a grid of some sort. This also feels very Ikuhara, he has a habit of combining the whimsical with the mechanical and technical. Think about the whole “ROCK OVER JAPAN” sequence for example.

The tone shifts, the upbeat ending theme “Stand By Me” by the peggies starts playing and Sara greets us cheerfully. She looks like an idol with her sparkling starry eyes and own TV program. The ア is everywhere. It seems to be used in her show a lot. There’s still no indication what exactly it stands for though.

This screenshot is pretty interesting. The text under “Fortune of today” says “lucky selfie divination”. Is Sara a fortune-teller? Are these her mysterious powers in action? The smaller text says “dish. I can’t see regular people. SARAtto report + Looking for the Prince. Characteristics are [ikevo?] a good smell and fair complexion”. Is that going to be Keppi or the mysterious figure from the last chapter of the manga? Or are they the same?

The focus shifts back to Kazuki. He’s talking about only needing three rules in his life, which could be good or a bad depending what those rules are. Okay let’s face it this is Ikuhara they’ll be bad. 

First he’s on his phone like in the earlier PV’s and then we see him with the kappazon cardboard box in his hands walking among other people. We get a quick glimpse of a weird golden kappa statue that makes the same kind of pose I assume the boys will do when they transform. What looks like a phone strap with Sara’s kappa-like creature swings by. It’s probably Kazuki’s and he’s a fan of Sara. There’s also a not-so-hidden ア that’s just on a tile on the pavement, showing us that they really are everywhere.

Next up we have Tooi. We’re shown a calendar (that I think is hanging on a classroom wall) with an overview of July and August (covering the summer vacation). Is that when Sarazanmai takes place? The illustrations for the calendar are of kappa. One highlights that kappa like/need water in their “sara” plates, the cavities on top of their heads. The other one depicts their love for sumo-wrestling. These are both typical kappa things we know from having studied the lore!

Tooi himself is along the river talking to his older brother Chikai. “Let’s get this over with. You and I aren’t very different”. There’s also one of the funniest reveals yet when we see Tooi’s weapon up close and it turns out to be a ruler. As a final touch there’s another ア to be seen right next to the brothers.

Then we get Enta’s presentation. At first he’s playing soccer by the river and then we see him holding on to the bracelet he shares with Kazuki. The in-between frame shows us a fish shop. What’s remarkable about it is that all the signs on it say “kiss”. Then we get a kappazon.co.jp box that flies away. Enta talks about having a strong bond that can’t be easily broken. Based on what we know it’s safe to assume he’s talking about Kazuki.

Then things get weirder when it’s Keppi’s time to appear on screen. He’s holding on to a cucumber, which is another thing that kappa love. He tells the boys that they’ve been turned into kappa and that they need to get the zombie shirikodama in order to turn back. We see the boys all slimy and gooey in their new kappa forms. Kazuki still has the box, so it might be something that happens during this walk of his that we’ve been seeing the whole time.

This is a very interesting frame. The pictograms behind the kappa boys look like ghosts. Are they supposed to be the boys’ souls or something like that? Or are they actual spirits wandering around? Story wise them being the boys’ makes more sense, but from an artistic viewpoint I think it’s weird to suddenly draw something that’s part of the main characters in the style that’s deliberately simplified and created for background characters. There’s also the “DO NOT ENTER” sign with the otter symbol and a cross over it. Clearly the otter is unwanted, that’s been confirmed by the Reo and Mabu’s keeponly1luv twitter account as well.

The PV continues with its interesting imagery. The next shot is of this circular shape with the words “no start”, “no end” and “no connection” getting revealed. We’ve heard these words before so they’ll be important.  They all tie together, but we’ll have to wait and see just how. It’s possible that they each apply to one of the three boys. Kazuki can’t connect, Enta doesn’t want to let go (end) and Tooi doesn’t want to uhh... get involved and start anything?? I’ll have to think about this more another time, or please send me your theories!

The background isn’t the same as it was for the spark earlier, but it’s the same style. I wonder if it’ll have anything to do with what the cops are up to because they’ll be introduced soon and they were the ones talking about no beginnings or endings.

The PV continues and there’s a small explosion hiding the boys in a cloud of black smoke while they let out a surprised scream.

Then there’s a pling, which I think resembles the sound an elevator makes when it reaches the right floor and opens its doors. The background is a metallic grey so it might as well be where the scene plays out. Reo and Mabu appear with their weird new catchphrase “Suck out the greed” (or desire!) and there’s some mechanical action that starts. Lights get turned on, gauges reach their max and a bunch of signs with the kanji 吸 “suu”, to suck or inhale appears.

I guess this is their machine for sucking out the greed? Or desire. I’ve pointed out the heart in the upper right corner before but it’s worth pointing out again. Earlier I wondered if this machine was somehow alive, but now I’m thinking that it might just stand for “desire”.

This is all controlled by the otters, the next cut shows us otters decals that are peeling. The otters seem to be controlling some circular objects, not unlike the construction we saw light up earlier.

Then there’s the “desire extraction” that covers all of Asakusa. The cops throw their hats. Celebrating their success? In an attempt to be dramatic? You decide.

Next up the opening there “Massara” by KANA-BOON starts playing and we see the three boys striking poses while in their kappa forms. I’m guessing it’s from the actual OP although it might be part of their transformation sequence.

Following this there’s a scene where the otter symbol all over Asakusa (or Sumida where Tokyo Skytree is located) burning red. It definitely looks like a bad infestation. There’s also a spiral with text reaching down from the heavens. The text is the same as we got in the first teaser PV’s and says “CHARGE” and “desire”. As something new there’s also ハコ which is the word for “box” written in katakana. I think this is a reference to the Box Zombie which is supposed to be the first zombie we’ll be introduced to. There are certainly boxes everywhere in the following shots while the zombie seems to have a lust for more cardboard.

Are the otters summoning the zombies? There’s definitely a connection between them.

Then we see Keppi run with a cart (or whatever it’s called) where the kappa boys sit. They seem pretty chill so I wonder if this is after their fight with the zombie? Next up we see one of these legendary shirikodama balls. It’s a ball with the kanji for butt on it. Then the three kappa boys are flying around, apparently connecting through the sarazanmai. They managed to connect in one way at least by holding on to each other’s hands.

I also find this next image interesting, it really plays up the “connection” part of Sarazanmai. We get the ア again and what looks like a mobile signal. It’s a very modern and a very literal interpretation. Ikuhara has mentioned the era of the internet and how easy it is to connect through the use of smartphones and apps several times when he’s talked about the inspirations behind Sarazanmai. Old vs. new has been another topic and this highlights that as well.

After this we see another shot of the Asakusa Sara TV program. The text is the same as previously but this time the image is of a traditionally drawn Japanese woman. Is this where the “old” is brought in?

Then this is another one of my favourite shots! It’s the Niimi Yoshokkiten kitchenware department store, that’s also the building where Reo and Mabu’s “Asakusa Sara Kouban” is located. Their police box/station is the red structure at the bottom of the building and I think we can see their silhouettes inside of it. What I really love about this image though is the otter that’s next to the giant chefs head on top. To be clear, the chef’s head is actually there in real life actual Asakusa while the otter is something the anime added there. I think this highlights the fact that Reo and Mabu are working under the otter (literally! - pun not intended).

The signs on the building are a bit difficult to decipher, but I see ウソ a lot which means lie. There’s also something about the world and food/eating? The text on the top that says “kawau” is probably in reference to “kawauso” which means otter.

As a side note I want to point out that the second teaser PV that featured the otter symbol had a narration about lies and otters. Could it be about Reo and Mabu? Who’s the one with the strong desire…

Right after that split second image we get this one. That’s an otter! Clearly controlling/ordering all the other otters around! Mabu makes a comment that someone tries to get in their way, which we can assume will be the three boys. Are they confirmed villains now? I feel like a lot of people aren’t buying it. With Ikuhara first impressions are often deceiving and characters can have good reasons for their seemingly horrible actions, so I wouldn’t count in it.

Next Asakusa Sara TV reports on flying boxes. The text that is show on screen is absolutely horrible to read and full with silly puns on Sara’s name and her using “dish” instead of “desu”. It’s cute as long as you don’t have to translate it yourself. The time here is 19:00 which makes me think that this PV covers the entire first episode and will end here with this (it was 7:55 at the start).

Reo and Mabu have their little quasi villain speech and then Keppi talks to the boys and says “you’re as dead as you are alive”. Does this have to do with the “turning into kappa” process and the “ghosts” I mentioned earlier? Are the boys’ actually half-alive, half-dead? Isn’t that what zombies are? Suddenly things are starting to make more sense!

There’s quite a lot going on visually. Keppi’s eyes look terrifying. They’re large, read, black and purple. He seems to clapping, so I’m guessing this happens after the boys have dealt with the zombie successfully. One of the ア signs falls down and is heavy enough to break the pavement. There’s a close-up of Kazuki’s face where he looks kind of frightened and surprised and then in classic Ikuhara fashion there’s a shot of hands trying to hold on to each other but not being able to do so. However, unlike in his previous works there are now three of them. It’s most likely for the three boys, although it could also be one boy using both of his hands.

Then there’s text on the screen that says “even if you connect”. Tooi fills in that he “won’t let you have it”, Enta says that he “doesn’t ask for anything else” while Kazuki “can’t bear to lose his connection”. Tooi’s just angsting in front of the lockers, Enta’s shown where he was practising football, but what’s interesting is that he has a kappazon box right next to him. It looks like the one Kazuki was carrying. Could it be the same? Could it have been for him? Kazuki’s chilling somewhere (at home?) out of frame with his phone in his hands. He has the Sara strap on it and a tiny otter icon appears on the screen.

Then the most mysterious thing in the PV happens with all these ア signs flying around and uhh... through Kazuki? The pink things look a little bit like buildings, are they perhaps reflections? The sparkles and the rainbow give this image the impression there’s something reflective. I really don’t have that much else to say although I’d love to be able to do so.

The PV ends with the three boys appearing as kappa yelling “sara” and “sarazanmai”. The final shot shows us the iconic look over Asakusa and Sumida with the tagline “Don’t let go. Desire is your life.” The ア’s are everywhere.

[crescentmoonhills]

A Death’s Life

Ch. 1

23rd of Blood Moon, 768 Lunaris year.

In the ashen desert of the northern eclipse continent in front of two hundred thousand army, a single beautiful lass is standing straight holding a shining sword. The wind blows against her sleek silver hair making it flow beautifully as if the world itself is trying to emphasize her exquisiteness even more. Her body covered in shining white adamant plate armor stood firm against the ground unwavering, unswerving, and unyielding. There the hero, Elena von Dämmerwacht gallantly points her sword forward.

A sword. That’s right, a sword. An elegant double edged sword that looked so beautiful it was as if the day and the night itself resides in its body. A sword that is known all across the eclipse continent for its ability to cut a colossal dragon’s scale as if a hot knife through butter.

The Equinox.

Long ago the humans were plagued by the endless wars against demons and their evil gods. The helpless and powerless humans were trampled and treated as livestock to the demons. In their grieves, they plead to their gods for a salvation.

The gods, Sol and Luna, pitied them and lend the humans a part of their souls in the form of a sword. A sword that could cut even the gods themselves. A sword made in the sole purpose to confer judgement to the gods who had defected from the Astral council. And only those of purest heart could wield it.

And that legendary sword of judgement is pointing towards a tall and slender man riding on top of an ashen horse.

A man wearing a giant white wolf pelt over his shoulders which size clearly disproportional to his body. A great black horn sprouting from the left side of his forehead signifies that he is anything but human. His left arm looks as much as the night skies itself rather than an arm. His tiny face half covered by the wolf pelt looks like nothing but a young child. With only his clear and deep blue eyes visible on his pallid face. The blue eyes that seemed to penetrate the soul itself which is peeking through his unkept pitch black hair looks troubled for some reason.

That man is none other than me.

*time freeze sfx*

That’s right. It’s me. You must be wondering how I got here. Well it all started in summer 19- Psych! You thought I was going to use the overused comedic time freeze intro those western sitcoms and movies often used. Jokes on you, this isn’t western, nor it is a movie...

Sigh~ I should get a life for real.

Yeah, anyway, it might sounds cliched but I’m a reincarnated person. Yep, I died once in a planet called earth and now I reincarnated in another world. I already forgot my pasts for the most parts. It’s been like a couple million years since I’ve been reincarnated so no surprise right.

Oh yeah, I haven’t told you my name yet. I’m Death. Yeah, no kidding. I’m one of those so called evil gods the humans often prattle about. Not that I’ve done anything to them but, I am responsible for the deaths of a lot of people y’know. I am the god of death you know, I mean that’s like literally my job so you can’t blame that on me. But the humans sure thinks otherwise and they dubbed me as one of those evil gods.

So yeah, when a lot of people called you “evil god” it’s no surprise that a hero will come and try to cut your head off of you.

And one of those so called heroes is always some OP cheat people who preach about justice whenever they got the chance. Ironically they never even bothered to hear your opinion on the matter. So much for Justice amirite?

Hmm?

What was that? Oh, you think I’m scared of these heroes?

Nah, it’s just that...

Right, listen here. When you live for like a couple millions of years as an evil god, you’re bound to experience things like these like countless of times. It happens all the time y’know. And the most troublesome part is that they won’t stop. If you kill one another hero will pop out in the next decade or so. So it’s a really troublesome matter to me.

Why won’t they just leave me alone or something?

I’m just doing the task given to me by the council. Why won’t they understand. I mean if you wanted me to quit I would gladly do so. If you’re ok with a bunch of undeads going around on your garden or something then be my guest. I’m literally death. What did they expect when they tried to get rid of me.

Seriously this is ridiculous.

And this girl in front of me. Stop babbling will you. I’m so sick of this that I don’t even have the mood to listen to your lecture about justice and peace. God help us all. Wait, I am a god though. Sigh~

“— and for that purpose you have to pay for your sins and accept the divine judgement sent by the gods delivered with my own hands. May—“

“—the stars of Iustitia lead you to a righteous path in the afterlife.”

Elena’s eyes widened in shock as I said the exact same thing she wanted to say.

I don’t have any precog powers but y’know, the hero’s speech never changes for as long as I can remember it anyway.

“Wait— what?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah blah blah. I’m sick of hearing the same shit for every single decade. Can we just get this over with already?”

While she seemed confused at my statement she readily assumed her battle stance ready to fight any time.

“Wha— hmph, fine. If that’s what you want then I will gladly serve your judgement you fallen deity.”

“Yeah, you know what? Just tell me what you want and I’ll gladly do it. Just don’t bug me anymore, got that?”

She got even more confused as she realized that I was trying to parley with her instead of fighting her.

“What nonsense are you spouting about? You as the god of death should be dethroned from your kingdom of demons and should be eliminated. For as long as you live you will bring about more deaths to this world. Now that you’ve heard what us humanity wanted there’s no way you’ll agree—“

“Okay then, I agree.” I said boldly.

“Wha—!!” she froze in her place.

“I quit from my job as a god and as the ruler of the eclipse empire. Happy now?”

“You’re lying!! There’s no way you would just agree to that! And I’ve never heard of a god who quit his ‘job as a god’? That’s ridiculous!!!”

As I was getting annoyed by her constant protests I start grabbing my horn.

And I break it off my head.

“Whaaattttt!!!!!” screamed Elena, aaaand she fell to her knees.

“Damn it kinda hurts y’know. Well with this I am no longer the god of death. Now will you let me go?”

Horns signifies a god’s divinity and roles. It might sounds weird for gods to have horns but that’s how it works in this world. As the sun god Sol has four yellow horns, the moon goddess Luna has two grey horns. And I, the death god has a single black horns with red circles around it. Although I only have one horn it was quite a big one among the gods. But yeah it was nothing to brag about.

“You— You? Eh? What just? Why??!!!”

Aah, I seemed to have broken a young girl’s mind. Umm... not in a sexual way please. But hey, she’s the one who told me to quit and she’s the one who got confused. Women. I could never understand them.

“What? You just told me to quit, so I did. And now you’re confused?”

“But I didn’t thought that you would actually quit!! I mean a god quitting that’s just absurd!!”

Yeah, now that I think of it of course she gets confused. I mean anyone will get confused if a god just quit his ‘job’ in front of them. Oh well, after working for a couple millions of years it’s not that weird for someone to quit their job.

“Anyway, I just quit my job so what now? Are you going to let me go or you still planning on fighting me?”

“Hmph, even if you quit that still doesn’t change the fact that you killed countless of people before. And for that you shall be delivered judgement.”

Not going to back down, eh? Elena and the army behind her all puts themselves on guard.

“Sigh~ why won’t they just let me be? Like seriously.”

Elena’s purple clear eyes are focused at me fully intended on taking my life.

“Okay. Do as you wish but know this little girl. I am the god of death if you decided to fight against me...”

I stopped my words and sends a glare through my eyes for some dramatic effects. What? Don’t judge me, it makes threats more you know... threatening.

“A lot of people are going to die y’know.”

Crap, that was so uncool and anticlimactic. So much for dramatic effects, a child won’t even fell for it. Heck, they’ll cringe at it instead.

But then, the hero Elena, and the whole two hundred thousand knights trembled greatly in the spot. It was as if their souls are grasped by Death itself.

Well, they are facing me and I am Death so that’s a bad analogy anyway. But wow, can’t believe it worked.

“Guh— fine, we will return for now. As long as you don’t cause any trouble afterwards, we will not disturb you anymore.”

Ooh, seems like she realized that she and her army are in danger if they continue to antagonize me. Well I don’t want to kill anyone outside of my job so it’s a good thing for me too if they backed down.

“Dämmerritten! We shall return to the capital!”

And just like that they marched back. The lass seemed reluctant to leave me though. But then again, they let me be for once so be it.

Hmm, now that I’ve quit my job, I wonder what should I do?

Well there’s a lot of things I’d like to try out since I’ve came to this world but I’m practically aimless right now. And the other gods will probably hunt me now since I’ve quit my job without even noticing them. But yeah, so be it.

For now, let’s start with being an adventurer, yeah? Yeahh, that sounds fun.

Alright, off to the human world it is.

[motelsanddiners]

Adagio For Castiel

Wanted to post this here because maybe more people will find it and love it.

A Castiel X Reader Fic  Cross-posted from AO3 

He cuts a moving picture there at the piano, absorbed, respectful, expression soft, eyes hooded as he watches his hands glide over keys with gentle familiarity. Ah, the ease, the smooth press of nimble fingers that bring forth strong notes without the use of brutality: a hidden art, a reverence of one who understands and knows music. Believes in it. He believes in music the way some people believe in God.

The piano is unblemished, marble-white, perfectly in tune and accommodating to his mastery, his quiet professionalism as he draws out the soul of each note; the music stand is empty. But his being is full. Full of inspiration. Whether it be hope, despair, nostalgia, longing, anger, contentment, hunger, exhaustion: he has cause to play. To bare his soul upon black and white teeth that chew, serrate, digest and then speak- or in most cases, sing -a testament of emotion, expertise, give a testimony to the hidden inner workings of life itself.

The piano is a tool as much as he is a bird. Not at all. The piano is an extension of himself. A stationary conduit that invokes movement, stirs the mind, stokes the spirit, feeds the soul, and transcends the body. It is escapism, even as he is seated upon a rickety wood bench, chipped and peeling and creaky. So very different from his one at home.

But it isn’t the bench, or the keys, or the venue. It is him that fills the room with awe and resplendence. Sunlight cuts furiously through the cloud bank and the dust-coated panes of the day room to streak demurely though the gray tinged air and dapple the fading hardwood with persuasive cheer.

The domed glass ceiling, sliced into rising trapezoids, captures the music, holds it sweetly prisoner within its confines of wooden frames and water spotted panes, rattling around vivaciously within the sun-warmed air. A muted cry to heaven, forestalled and unheard, an ear turned idly away.

Hands, still delicate in their intention, harden a fraction, in blood alone. It is not lack of volume that impedes Heaven’s attention, but purpose. He does not play to be heard. He plays because he feels. Because he is alive. And when he is dead, he will play still. Whether be Heaven or Hell that his soul resides in for eternity…he will play.

He is assured at the piano, shoulders loose and relaxed, arms the same. His expression is slack, open to the music. Eyes closed to the world, better to feel. Ears shape his reality as his hands offer up ample sacrifice. He’s ruminating on something only known to him, a feeling. One he fails putting into words.

His long lashes flutter in response to the music spilling from the maw of the piano, his fingers continue their divine delivery.

Sunlight caresses the body of the piano, reverent, ethereal. And when it cascades over Castiel’s slight frame- fluid and swaying with the tempo -freed from the gloom of the cloud bank? Poetry. Shy exultation. Tender glorification. Nature taken note: there’s a separate variety of beauty, out of her reach; fleeting, humble, instrumental. A breathing reverie, a fallible ode to the sanctity of a gentle spirit, an open mind, and a forgiving heart. Mother Nature weeps in embarrassment of herself.

And Castiel is unaware. In a melodic cocoon of his own making he does not emerge easily, nor willfully. He basks in the euphoria of his soul-letting, feeling light as the birds that flit from branch to branch in the garden beyond the floor to ceiling wall of glass in front of him. In truth? He is freer than those birds will ever be, even with their ability to touch the Heavens.

His hands reside carefully in his lap, fingers laced but not latched. His cornflower blues adorn a fond, faraway glaze to them as he appreciates the garden and its tranquil beauty. His slightly chapped lips quirk in the corners furtively, as if in indulgence of an inside joke.

“Mr. Novak?” The question is hesitant, soft. Accommodating.

No doubt she has waited. Allowed him to spoil himself. She always does, bless her.

He smiles apologetically, eyes coming back to the piano. “I’m sorry, Cady. I got carried away again.” His rise from the bench is slow, reluctant.

He studiously pulls the fall down over the keys, drags his fingertips along the lacquered wood and recalls the quickly fading sensation of flesh against ivory capped spruce wood, worshipful and holy. The connection between heart and the anatomy of a piano…already he aches to play again.

“It’s no trouble, Mr. Novak,” She shakes her head gently, meeting his sheepish expression patiently. “It’s quite cathartic…medicinal even.”

His dark eyebrows rise. “For the soul, perhaps. If it were medicinal for the body…”

She smiles sadly, sympathetic. “You never know, Mr. Novak,” She says, patting his arm as he passes her, starting his long trek down the hallway that smells like carnations just under the currant of antiseptic.

“You just never know…” She murmurs to herself, glancing over her shoulder at the sun-kissed day room, the lonely piano, not half as lonely as the man who plays it when he visits. She readjusts her uniform and shuts the door behind her.

Schumann Op. 15 No. 7 hangs in the gloomy atmosphere of the empty room, lingering heavily around the piano, and drifting hauntingly, lazily, within the domed ceiling. The music stand is vacant. Waiting.

Running late, cursing under your breath and gulping lukewarm coffee with a grimace, you fly into the parking lot, vaguely mindful about pedestrians. You wave apologetically at another woman in a hurry, purse swinging madly in her jaunty walk through the maze of cars. The two of you notice one another just in time.

Though, if you were to accidentally run someone over, this would be the place to do it.

Beethoven’s Sonata No. 21 isn’t even out of the first movement, but you’re running heinously late and you think the dead musician will cut you some slack for your impudence. You tumble out of your car, click your door locked, fumble your keys into your pocket and jog towards the building, coffee sloshing out of your beat-up thermos. You hum the continuation of the sonata under your breath. An impressive feat, considering the tempo.

After trying to push a pull-open door for a hearty five seconds and righting yourself, you step into the relative warmth of the lobby and wave sheepishly at the front desk as you bee-line for the elevator. When the doors begin to slide closed behind you, you heave a sigh of relief. You finally made it. And pick up your humming again.

“Beethoven is rolling in his grave, deaf and all.” It’s spoken like you’ve committed a great slight against humanity, like you’ve run over a puppy and kept driving, and you stop humming mid-progression.

Cheeks warming in embarrassment, and a little offense, you look over your shoulder to shoot a retort, something along the lines of Have you tried humming Sonata No. 21? But you once again stop abruptly.

He’s criminally attractive, and you’re criminally uncouth. So you don’t even try.

His arm extends towards the door as well as one long, lithe leg. He’s on his way out, but he pauses long enough to say, “Beethoven is meant for the hands, that sonata especially. Not the voice. But an admirable attempt, all the same. Good day.”

And he glides out into the lobby, slipping his slender fingered hands into the pockets of his slacks, appearing all too graceful and lively for the subdued environment he’s in. The doors close, cutting off your view of him, and you stand a few seconds in stupefied admiration, heart thumping wildly.

And now you are unforgivably late. You’ll have to play with unmatched vigor for her today. If she’s even awake.

Castiel pauses in the lobby, after he hears the doors close, and half turns to stare at the elevator with a wistful, albeit slightly confused smile pulling at his lips. You were a mess, obviously running late, one of your boots was untied and half zipped up, your collared white shirt was slightly wrinkled, you were only wearing one earring, and your right coat sleeve was stained with coffee. No doubt because the lid was halfway screwed on.

Regardless, he finds something about you vaguely charming. But only vaguely. He decides not to obsess. He doubts he’ll ever see you again.

When he gets home, he heads straight for his grand piano, and sits down to play…Beethoven. Sonata 21. Of all things. And he hums along, or tries to, anyway. It’s horrendous, and he laughs, bending over the keys with the force of his humor. But his hands are steady and obedient, and continue Beethoven’s piece faithfully, perfectly.

He plays into the late hours wearing a secret smile, holding in his mind’s eye your arrival into the elevator and your terrible- but cheery -humming. He sits alone on his piano bench, but he feels a little less lonely despite it.