#and also i forgot a bath mat

[aurosoul]

working on Lopez’s house… I headcanon him as an art-blocked musician (with Problems™)

[pennycat83]

Take Me Home

Curly (post crash) x reader

This got 1,103 on AO3 so I decided to share it here as well. I'mma also warn for described graphic imagery and the usual Mouthwashing suffering

5 months, almost 26 days since your last job. Your legs slumped limp against the control panel, arms folded lazily against your stomach as you dozed. Your ship was far from desirable, nothing more than a scrap ship you used to get what little change you could gather from abandoned ships. Old habits died hard, you joked. 

That being said it wasn't anything to sneeze at. Despite only really holding one person most of the time, it still had a quaint medical bay, storage unit, washing facilities and two sleeping quarters. You often forgot you even had a home on Earth with how cosy the place felt. 

You jolted at an abrupt sonar ping. Another ship, you grunted, straining your arms behind your back, you set the auto pilot to maneuver closer. Heading to a beaten up locker in the back for something other than a tank top and shorts. You let the jumpsuit hang around your waist, tightening your bootlaces before zipping it up. Rummaging around further, you retrieved a well beaten axe from the back, tucked haphazardly between a few boxes, you slipped the holstered axe around your belt loop.

A Pony Express Ship, it looked like hell. Foam coated most of the exterior, making it had to identify the original entrance. You grumbled something regarding how incompetent the crew must've been.  Making your way to the ship was enough of a challenge for such a simple 'job', hacking into a bit of the foam in an attempt to weasel in, you knew too much would mean the goods would spill out. Your breath hitched, carefully sinking your axe bit by bit until you made a decently sized hole. Finally, you tumbled into what was most likely the storage unit. 

The ship groaned as you tucked your axe back into its holster, whipping out a flashlight to inspect the hull. Walls of boxes surrounded the modest space, what little lights that remained flickered above, you continued on. Moving through the endless rows until you reached the steps to the exit, you noted a few of the boxes had been ripped open, bottles of mouthwash littered the floor, dribbles of the remains sticking to your boot heels.

"What the fuck?". You scoffed before exiting, the  doors were open. That was enough an indicator that something wasn't right, moving through the rest of the rooms confirmed your suspicion. The hallways bathed in a harsh red, foam tripped you up at points, beloved items were scattered haphazardly, until you finally entered the main area. 

Jesus Christ, you froze. A large T.V. system flickered the same piercing error message as darkened patches of...you sighed shakily. Looking over to the table, a party. "Shit-fuck-s-sorry to intrude! I...I just-I'll...". You faltered, noticing the violent lack of a reaction. Your legs hesitated forward, moving one of the bodies closest to you. It slumped forward, slamming hard against the plate. You had to stifle a scream as you watched the neck loosen slightly. You looked around the table, almost all of the bodies were in some different state of decay, the one across you drenched in blood, her hair matted hair almost withering off her head. You almost choked on your own shaking urge not to freak out. 

Quivering, your legs shuffled away from the party. Moving onward, you found yourself hugging the axe slightly. Unfurling only when you entered the medic bay. You noted a now bloodied gurney resting against one of the false windows. The crimson lighting only intensifying the horrifying feel ."Least this'll be one of the more interesting stories". Your voice wobbled as you tried to twist this into some kind of joke. You remembered why you came here, moving around the space to grab anything of worth. You hesitated on the computer but decided on most of the medical supplies. 

You nodded at your new pile of bounty, finishing up your rounds by finally entering the engineering room. The darkened hallways tightened your nerves  Another body, this one slumped against a few rows of pods, a gun nearby. You kicked the body with the tip of your boot, almost expecting it to lurch like a slasher and attack... Nothing. You moved around once again. Finally contempt you..

You paused, someone was here. Your head whipped instinctively towards the row of cryogenics, a piercing blue eye watched, unblinking. Finally, you let out a heart dropping scream in shock, dropping a tool kit in a jump against the wall. The eye remained fixed on you, you moved forward carefully. You noticed that it almost looked like a corpse, bandages covering most of the face. You looked around hesitantly, scuttling back to the toolkit before making your leave. You dropped it by the pile, you cursed yourself out slightly as you had to whittle down your carrying size for the passageway back. Sighing as you looked around once again, someone must've gone mad, you pondered if the person in cryostatus wasn't the culprit but, given the body next to it, you almost questioned if it wasn't him. 

You let out a weak chuckle at the idea as you pushed another  pile of loot into your own ship. Turning to finish up, you hesitated. Looking towards the flickering lights. You were stupid, so fucking stupid for this. Once again hacking into the foam to make the exit big enough, and making sure your own medic bay  was loaded with all the things you had grabbed, you stormed back towards the cryogenics. Moving the slumped body against one side of the wall, you consulted the pod. You fiddled with a pin pad aside it, frowning at the absurdity of the idea before finally giving up and cracking out your axe on the poor thing.  The door slid open in a hiss of dry ice. The man slumped forward, drooping slightly as you slid over to grab him, struggling with the abrupt weight as you finally noticed the state of the body. 

Burnt, bloodied flesh stained your jumpsuit, you noticed the body was essentially a torso. One leg shorter than the other, you let out a shuddered gasp as you stumbled for support. Finally, your leg gave up, letting you and the body drop against the wall with a thud, what remained of his legs getting caught between yours slightly . "Ah! I am s-so fuckin' sorry sir!", nothing. You got back up shakily, moving the person around awkwardly until he was resting in your arms, part of his chest resting against yours. 

You had no idea where to begin, leaving the ship had been a pain in it of itself but you barely remembered CPR procedures, let alone any actual medical practices. For now you carefully redressed the body as you could and waited, making sure not to jostle it too much and slid a pillow under his head. He twitched slightly, you ignored it. Going about your organization of the items. You felt shitty pocketing someone's Gameboy, but you at least hoped the owner would've been proud it got to be enjoyed again...maybe. You had also decided to grab some of the mouthwash as a joke, putting it in your bathroom alongside one of the first aid kits. Some cute Pony Express safety posters now also blessed your sleeping pod and main work space.

You smiled, moving through the rest of the haul, until a series of weak croaks and groans made you jump, whipping to return to first aid over the finally awake body. "S-sorry 'bout that bud!", you turned to consult him. Turning around to fumble with the first aid kit as he began to writhe, "alright alright cool it!". You hesitantly let a few pain killers slip into your hand as you attempted to drop them in, his mouth remained shut. Your fingers padded delicately against his jaw. "What's wrong?".

He stayed silent, you sighed, putting the pills on the side of the bed, you made your way to the sink. You were honestly amazed you hadn't considered this before, then again you were the kind of madman to dry swallow anything that was smaller than a penny before. You placed the cup to one side and put the pills near it. Turning to watch your patient, he seemed somewhat antsy over the meds. "Look I'd rather bring a living person back if that's ok so...". He remained tense, jerking his head around as you tried to hold it. "So you don't like it when I touch ya...".

You lent down to meet his eye, your gaze softening. "I promise to be gentle 'kay? Just...". You faltered, you didn't know how to approach this. He watched in paranoid silence. "I'll be careful ok, if I hurt you I won't prod any further". He stayed silent, a feverish wheeze punctuating the silence. Finally, his mouth cracked open slightly, your fingers carefully sliding the pills far back down his throat, a trickle of  water washed them down more as you lifted his head slightly. Finally he relaxed, you let him rest back on the pillow as you sat back, "y'good now?" he choked out an affirmation. 

You sighed, you knew what this meant, instant u turn to Earth, you let him be as you went back to alter your course. An automated voice confirmed your command as you went back to the medical bay. The man continued to stare at the wall, watching your own T.V windows in a daze. You lent against the wall, letting your arms fold over themselves. You watched silently, he didn't seem to be in any additional pain aside from the burns. You couldn't help but feel slight guilt over his  bloodied gown, not wanting to remove for fear of hurting him. You faked a cough to get his attention. His bloodshot eye turned to watch you, slightly panicked, as you made your way to the chair once again.

  "Set a course t' take us back to Earth...this is way too outta my hands for me to do anything. If you need anything though I won't be too busy". The unblinking eye burrowed into your lazy gaze as you stifled another cough. "I'll let you be then-". The stub of his arm had moved towards your resting elbow. It flinched away on instinct before hesitantly moving back. Carefully, you let it rest against the stub. "Guess it's been a while huh? S-speaking to anyone I mean". He let out a groaned sigh (you assumed at least) of longing. You nodded solemnly, "Y'want me to sleep here for the night then?". You left before he could answer, grabbing a sleeping bag from within your wardrobe and  returned, cosying it against the medical bed. 

The soft glow of the artificial moon now seeped into the room as you went through your nightly tasks, sorting anything else you had forgotten. You let your jumpsuit soak in the washroom as you cleaned up, returning to the medical bay just as you watched the torso flop onto your sleeping bag. You trotted over and helped him back up carefully, holding him once again in your arms, "you good?!". He squirmed in your arms, hugging your chest whilst his head burrowed into your neck, almost avoiding eye contact with the bed. 

"Damn bud w-what...". You sighed weakly. Moving him back onto the bed as you grabbed your sleeping bag to form a makeshift blanket over you. Pulling the chair close enough, you struggled to hop over the man so you were facing the window. You couldn't help but sleepily close your eyes. The man shuddered again, you turned to face his back, letting your hand rest delicately against it. He winced, your hand retracted just as quick. Struggling to pull your head against the pillow properly, you found yourself rambling. "Y'know...I kinda like the beds here better than the ones in the sleeping bay". You chuckled slightly as you continued, "way nicer". 

Your eyes shifted to watch the breathing of the man. His movements ragged and visceral, you hesitated. Resting a hand against the fabric of his gown. He jolted, a sharp dry shriek of pain, your hand retracted. "S-sorry! S...so it...hurts less with the painkillers?". A faint grunt that confirmed your question. You nodded, turning once again as to not stress him. A faint comment seemed to grab your attention, 's...stars...'. You hummed in agreement, you didn't remember why you felt the urge to douse the medical bay in glow in the dark stickers, but you supposed it made you feel more comfortable. "I like 'em". Your voice was softer, almost light as you began to slip deeper into a sleepy lull. 

You shuffled slightly in your sleep, pressing up against the wall as the figure turned. Your eye slid open, meeting the glistening bloodshot view of him. You flinched, a mirrored response as you let out a breathy chuckle, "asshole". You laid on your back, watching the false stars shine softly overhead. "Gotta be hard to sleep though...". Your arms folded under your head, propping it up tightly as to not touch the flesh beside you. "I got a sleep mask if that helps...". He continued watching, an unreadable gaze that irked you slightly. "Can I...I know this sounds stupid, but...". You got up. 

Dragging the sleeping bag along, you flicked the nearby table lamp on. Looming over the now frozen form of your pseudo patient, he immediately began to writhe, bucking in fear as he watched your hands. You paused, relaxing your shoulders, you rested your hand onto his jaw, your cold fingers ghosting over his burned cheek. You could've sworn his cheek weighted slightly into the curve of your palm for a bit. Carefully, you re adjusted the pillow under the his head, before cautiously scooping him back into your arms.

Carefully, so carefully, you zipped him just enough into the sleeping bag. The thick padding seeming to muffle most of your contact with him. You couldn't help but let out a proud scoff, moving back to the window as you watched him wriggle slightly. "Feelin' better?". No comment, you smiled softly. "Y'know, I never managed to get your name". It took a bit before you got an answer, albeit punctuated by infrequent wheezes. "Curly...kinda ironic now huh". Another unamused grunt retorted your quip.  You slipped closer, your chest  resting against him tenderly. You lay there for a bit once again, the cold groaning of your own ship echoing slightly as you lay. Some stupid part of your brain finally kicked in when you embraced him, wrapping your arms around his chest. He writhed under your embrace. Attempting to free himself, his back spasmed and a series of frantic wheezings escaped his weak jaw. You hushed him slightly, nuzzling your head into his padded chest. "It's ok...you're ok...". You continued to soothe him softly.  He froze, sighed pathetically after a while, the fatigue finally sinking in for him, resting his chin softly against your neck. Your grip remained soft, gently reassuring him he was safe.

He was going home.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 months 29 days before reaching Earth. 

You frowned from your calculator to your pile of perceived valuables. Just under $90 in estimated value. Sighing, you put the calculator back to one side and slumped forward, cradling your head between your hands. You were already struggling with keeping Curly alive long enough before you reached Earth. Your own quantity of painkillers now dwindling. His state and breathing getting more ragged and feeble.

Some morbid part of you considered killing him in a twisted form of sympathy. I mean, you were almost always alone in space, you hadn't alerted that many people to your plight aside from a friend's lawyer for a legal chew out on what remained of Pony Express, and an awaiting hospital. Your hands physically coiled at the very concept. You'd done this on a whim, letting out a quivering huff, you returned to your own miniature dining area.

The table was one you had managed to save from wood rot, and it was sure as hell obvious. Some of the new legs looked to be from different makes, despite a fresh coat of wood dye. Curly sat on one side, you felt bad just letting him wither in bed all day, allowing him to move from space to space kept him somewhat upbeat. Even letting him sit next to you on your usual naps in the cockpit.

He seemed to be as frail as you felt, still wheezing pathetically, staring ahead whilst his mouth silently gasped. You moved over, his body shook ever so slightly, but relaxed once you pulled up the chair across from him.  Your fingers fiddled between each other in a grip. "We're running low on painkillers". Your tone dried, you felt stupid admitting it out loud but given how he could still react via often jerky movements. It felt like having a mute puppet living with you, one that at least seemed to acknowledge your small talks. "I'm not sure if this will affect anything but I might have to start cutting you down to one, just in case". 

His head turned away. You frowned weakly, "I'm sorry if this hurts but, I can't risk anything before we get back". He stayed silent, you looked out to where he was staring, the 'living room', two beaten sofas and a busted radio resting beside a small lamp, you had played a few songs for him already that he liked, he always preferred your softer ones over the more aggressive music you played during work (at least when you were alone), maybe... "We can relax if you want...", nothing. You wearily admitted defeat for once, "I'm....I'm going to sort a few things out if that's ok...". His arm moved towards yours, resting tenderly against yours for a bit. You cocked your head slightly, "I...I don't wanna sound corny but.. y-y'know if there's anything wrong you can tell me". 

He stayed silent, his ragged breathing filling the space as you waited hesitantly.

'Sc...a...red'. His voice almost sounded timid, "of what, going back?". No reply... you looked back down at his stub, you swore if he had hands he'd be frantically trying to grasp yours. "welp, I won't pry if you don't want-". You paused, both of his stubs rested against your arm now, almost trying to pull you back towards the chair. You looked back at him, for once he made direct eye contact, his burning gaze moistening slightly. Your mouth quivered, you felt your heart sink in weakness. Getting up slowly, he seemed desperate to keep you near. You beside him, what remained of his legs shifting slightly as you knelt next to him. 

Without saying anything you slowly rested your hands on what remained of his, your finger pads gently stroking them, he continued. An uncomfortable pathetic wheeze of a cry that made your heart ache for his unintelligible plight. "It's ok...", the same drying comfort. His already strained voicebox struggled as he let something slip. 'P...pl...ease...I'. You pulled him closer, his body slipping away from the chair slightly as you continued to console him. His arms rested at his sides, his voice quivering harder from the slight pain. He went limp, you froze. His breathing remained ragged against your ear. Your own breathing began to weaken, moving him back to the medic bay in a daze. You rested him rest gently on the bed as you checked him. 'he must've passed out from stress...'.

Finally, you gave up. Sitting back down on the chair and waiting for him to wake up. Once again, you got up after what felt like hours and sat back in your armchair, playing a random song.

1 month before reaching Earth. 

He seemed emotionally shell shocked, falling silent whenever you brought up himself. You tried to think of  any reasons on why but you assumed, still remembering the haunting scent of decay and iron on the ship, that he had witnessed something. You tried to keep his spirits up as well, still coming in to check on him with a friendly tone and playing songs for him. But he remained silent, you felt your stomach sink ever lower. Catching him wake up in a panic or trying to hide his gaze from the blazing warmth of the artificial sunset when it began to dip into the night. You managed somewhat to keep yourself going with something-anything else, but your mind continued to linger on him.

You found yourself resting against his bed as you dozed. The day had dragged harder than normal, not being able to get a full contact going with the hospital for any advice. Alongside the usual feeding of one pill causing Curly to nearly choke. You slept before him, too tired to move away.

His arm fidgeted near yours, his eye resting on your face. He watched. You shifted slightly, your head nestling further between your arms. His arm strained until it reached your head, petting the top of it gently as you slept. He turned away, looking up at the static moon that washed over the room in a melancholy light. She would've like you, he struggled to smile slightly at the notion. He was sure Daiskue would be ecstatic to know you had managed to beat his own high scores. His eye warbled slightly as tears began to trickle down his cheek at the thought. You shifted, he turned over to watch as you sat up, blearily rubbing your eye. "Guess I'll go back t'my room...". Your voice sounded softer than usual. 

His mind went blank, his voice hoarse as you began to make your way back to your roo- "d-don't go...". You almost screeched at how humanly coherent the voice was. Your head instinctively whipped back around into the room to a splutter of coughing and wheezing from Curly. "Y-you...". You slid back into the room, flicking the bedside lamp on, looking over him as he tried to maintain his breathing. "A-are you ok?!". He tried to maintain his breathing for a bit before nodding. You sat back down in your chair, almost feeling guilty for waiting so hopefully for another response. He motioned with an arm something. 

"You wanna talk?". He nodded, you smiled weakly. "Y'wanna nod?". He paused, sheepishly nodding with a small chuckle. You sighed, sitting beside him, "le'mme guess, you're annoyed you can't do much right now". He paused, his eye tracing your face before nodding. You smiled slightly, you hit him with a few light hearted ones first. Slowly building up the courage before you blurted out something that was gnawing at the back of your mind since his episode. "You don't want to talk about your crew but you feel terrible about them". 

He froze, then slowly nodded. "I'm also gonna assume you feel responsible even though your like this?". He stopped for a bit, looking back down at his hands before turning back and shaking his head slowly. That genuinely caught you off guard. Finally, you had a gut churning thought. "You feel responsible for not helping them because you got yourself like this?" His nodding began to grow timid, finally you got an answer. "But the burns aren't your fault?". He shook his head, "you did something wrong?". Another nod, you felt your chest heave as you made your biggest leap in assumptions. "Someone else did this didn't they? but you're talking the wrong blame". 

Your eye caught a near nod as he jerked upwards slightly. Once again, slumping back in bed. "Whatever you did, it's ok to feel guilty for. It's natural but...you can't blame yourself for another persons fuck up if they were in full control". He looked back to you, his eye once again wavering. He motioned for you to come closer, leaning in hesitantly for another hug. You stayed in his embrace for a bit until you had the same idea from when you first picked him up, once again writhing out of his embrace before moving back to the window. Slipping onto the bed alongside him as you continued your soft embrace. 

Your hands found themselves resting on his back, stroking his back delicately, you lulled yourself slightly into a sleepy daze. His strained, rapsy voice slipped out in-between the gentle strokes, but you understood what he said perfectly. 'I don't want to go back...I'm scared, please...you're the only thing I've been able to keep close for this long...I...I want you to hurt me, I...', he let out a slight wheeze of a laugh as he continued his gentle rambling. 'I want to know I've done wrong...to my crew...to my friend. I-I...I'm scared of facing what I've done". 

He motioned you to pull away for a bit. His eye fixating indefinably on your face. Your brain did it again, another stupid impulse as you melted into the rotten kiss he suddenly pulled you into, your lips struggling to stay gentle against his vulnerable teeth and flesh. 

'please...'. He panted his plea out weakly between the moment. 'T...take me away'. You almost nodded, before realising what that would mean, you pulled away, looking into his soft gaze. "I-I can't...I told you...you can't be responsible for everything, but...but you have to own up to what you've done, I swear I won't let the world see you if it's too much, I promise".

You raised a pinky and let it dink delicately against his nub of an arm as his embrace weakened. "You're ok, I told you before...", your voice lightened with a small smile. "You're going to be ok". 

0 months 1 day from destination.

[grilledbroccolli]

Part 2 of Vampire!reader craves Dan Heng

tbh the titles may not corelate to what I'm writing. As you can see what I wrote is purely self indulgent. Anyways, not a lot of vampire action going on in this one. Description: continuation of part 1 , please read it if you haven't already. This is just mostly Dan Heng taking care of reader Warning: vampire, small wounds, blood?(idk)

Dan Heng has always noticed your fangs and how your eyes would glow a little when you see your crewmate’s wounds after a battle. At first, he thought you are sadistic and a threat to the Astral Express. You refuse to treat wounds or look at blood for longer than 5 seconds. He thinks you’re weird.

“Slow, slow down. I’m all yours.” Dan Heng truly hopes he could relief your hunger.

You soon came back to your senses. You stop sucking on Dan Heng’s wrist and look at the two little holes on his wrist. Horrified to what you’ve done, you push him away.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, Dan Heng. I truly don’t mean to hurt you. I’m so sorry.” You said as your eyes not scrambling everywhere but Dan Heng’s eyes. Your eyes started to tear up.

"Hey hey, shhhh, it's alright. Just drink up." He comforted you as he held out his wrist again.

"Nooo. I can't." You refuse. Both of you go back and forth a few times until Dan Heng got tired of it.

"Ok, you know what, just take a shower." Dan Heng walks to the bathtub behind him and starts preparing a bath for you.

"You know you don't have to do all this, right?"

"You're right. But you are not even taking care of yourself."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying sorry." Dan Heng finished preparing the bath and walk to the door. "Take a nice hot bath. I'll leave some clothes at the door. After you're done, go to the kitchen."

As he is about to leave, his thumbs wipe the corner of your mouth that have some of his blood stains on it. "And also... don't fall asleep in the water."

The door shut gently. (What is going on) You messed up. Not only did you hurt him, but also now that you tasted human blood or his blood especially, you can't go back anymore. He tasted so sweet, sweetest of all human blood you've tasted, tastier then any animal blood you've drank. Just thinking about it made you blushed in embarrassment. Before you think too much about what happened, you strip and dip yourself into the hot bath that Dan Heng prepared for you.

After you finished washing up, you wipe yourself dry with the spare towels in the bathroom. You quietly open the door and found some fresh clothes lying by the door outside.

"Why is he so nice to me?" You question yourself. You have never seen him so worried. You never get the impression that he would risk his life to help you. You always wanted to get closer to him, know what he likes and what he taste like. But, you never would have thought that whatever happened would happen.

You stop overthinking and leave the bathroom, heading to the kitchen.

Dan Heng was right at the stove cooking what seems like instant noodles. The microwave is heating somethings up at the same time. The lights are all off, only a single lamp is lighting up the area. Stars can be clearly seen outside the big windows.

"Ah, you're done. Sit down. It'll be ready in no time."

////

Dan Heng place down a heat proof mat and the pot of noodles right in front of you along with a pair of chopsticks and a chinese soup spoon. Not long after, he took a plate out of the microwave.

"Here, eat up. It's not much. These are the leftovers from dinner." He said as he sat down opposite of you.

You haven't had any human food other than drinking Dan Heng's blood just now. Your stomach is starving and hurting like crazy after throwing up nothing but stomach acid.

"Ah wait, darn, I forgot. Here, stomach medicines." He hands you some stomach medicine for soothing your stomach after vomiting. He knew you might throw up again if you don't take care of that fragile stomach of yours right now.

"T- thanks." You take the medicines and start munching down your food. Food had never tasted this good before. Maybe it's because you haven't eaten the entire day or it was made by Dan Heng.

"Slow down, y/n. It's not gonna run away from you. You're gonna choke." Dan Heng gently scolded like a worried mother. As if on cue, you choke on the noodles.

"Jeez, I told you so." He said as he fetch you a glass of water. As you gulp down the water, he gently soothes your back, as if to help with your choking.

"Ah sorry, I can't help it." You said with a sheepish grin. Dan Heng blushed slightly, but it's left unnoticed by you. He suddenly pat your head and clear his throat.

"J- just be careful next time."

////

You finished your late night meal. Dan Heng wash up the dishes. The relaxing sound of running water made you sleepy. Soon later, you fell asleep at the table.

After Dan Heng turn off the sink and wipe down the counters. He turn around and see your head resting on top of your arms, eyes closed, taking in deep breathes. His heart clenches at the sight. Knowing that you had been restless the entire week, you deserve all the rests and his blood. Ah, what have you done to him. He's ears are turning red at the thought. He thought back at the incident in the bathroom. The feeling of your fangs sinking into his skin. The way your tongue would seldomly lick over the wound to make sure not a single drop is wasted. These thoughts made him heat up so much. He starts to feel dizzy, not knowing if it's the recent loss of blood or the thought of you. All he knows is it's all your fault. He glance down on the two little holes you made on his wrist. He thinks it's cute

He sweep you from your chair into his embrace. With one arm under your knee and the other cradling your shoulders. He hoist you up a little to allow your head to rest on his shoulder, making sure you won't fall or feel uncomfortable. He carries you to your room and lay you down. As he is about to leave, you grip on his sleeves.

"Don't go," you whined.

"I'm not going anywhere," he sighed. He had no choice but to sat down beside your bed on the floor, not wanting to lay in your bed without your consent. He stayed awake until he knew you are completely asleep.

Dan Heng stands up from his sitting position and starts to tidy up your bedroom. He picks up all the pillows on the floor and starts to throw out the empty blood bags. He takes the untouched cold tray of food out and clear out the mess you made. After all that, he place a bandage on the wounds and went back into your room. He went back to his previous spot and fell asleep there.

______________________________

There's gonna be a part 3. I still have some ideas left unwritten.

damn i do say so myself i'm cookin good.

[robininthelabyrinth]

The Other Mountain - ao3 - Chapter 24

Pairing: Lan Qiren/Wen Ruohan

Warning Tags on Ao3

———————————————————————-

Not even having to explain to Yu Ziyuan why they had ruined the Jiang sect’s event for a second time running could put a dent in Wen Ruohan’s good mood.

“You can’t really blame us for it,” he told her, wondering with amusement if he should mention that the sound of her teeth grinding in irritation was becoming almost audible. “We came here at your invitation to enjoy your sect’s little party and then were unexpectedly set upon by murderous assassins…assassins, let me remind you, that somehow managed to defy your sect’s security precautions, borrow your disciples’ clothing, and then attack your guests, when by all the rules of hospitality we ought to be under your protection. If the party also happened to be ruined as a result, well, that’s really nothing to do with us. In fact, we’re quite upset by it all.”

“Really,” Yu Ziyuan growled. “If that’s the case, then why – are – you – smiling?!”

That was mostly because Wen Ruohan couldn’t help it.

Lan Qiren was in love with him. Lan Qiren loved him. Lan Qiren was willing to trust him. Lan Qiren loved him!

That wasn’t anyone else’s business, though.

“Just trying to put a good face on it for the sake of your sect,” Wen Ruohan said, voice almost syrupy with how condescending he was being. “After messing up not one but two gatherings in front of the whole cultivation world, you practically have no face left at all…really, a smile or two is the least we can do for the sake of our good friends in Yunmeng Jiang.”

Yu Ziyuan’s eye was twitching. So was the finger upon which she wore Zidian, which hadn’t quite started crackling but had started emitting an almost subsonic hum of spiritual energy as if it was considering it.

Hmm. Perhaps he was overdoing it a little.

Not that Wen Ruohan cared.

Still, in the interest of not starting yet another fight that he was presently in no condition to win…

“At any rate, as you can see,” he added smugly, unable to feel any genuine caution when his heart was full of repeated refrains of I am loved, I am loved, “my husband has taken today’s events to heart.”

He nodded over at where Lan Qiren was sitting, still cleaning his sword and glaring balefully at everyone around him as if he suspected them of wrongdoing, having apparently decided to appoint himself as the paranoid one for the day.

If Lan Qiren were anyone else, Wen Ruohan would say that it was a beautiful display of subtle intimidation. The almost pristine glow of Lan Qiren’s almost entirely white outfit, marred only by the almost artful flecks of drying blood that highlighted the subtle red suns at the hems, acted as vivid contrast to the gory imagery of the bloody and at times incomplete bodies the Jiang sect disciples were still carrying out on mats from the room behind him, while the steady and sure motion of his hands drew the eye to focus on his sword, the one that had slain most of those people – an unspoken but extremely clear threat.

Of course, since this was Lan Qiren, he probably hadn’t thought about that at all.

Lan Qiren was a very good politician, when he put his mind to it – but he often forgot to put his mind to it. In fact, if Wen Ruohan had to bet, he’d say that Lan Qiren was probably currently thinking about some obscure Lan sect rule about cleaning your sword as soon as possible to avoid rust, about how it was valuable and taught all sorts of larger lessons and so on and so forth. Also, he’d probably want a bath as soon as possible, quite understandably, and certainly at a minimum by the time they got back to the Nightless City. He could just change clothing to get rid of the bloodstains, of course, but there was that general rule on changing clothing after bathing, and Wen Ruohan knew that Lan Qiren, with his fondness for routine, would prefer to do things in the proper order whenever possible.

(Lan Qiren, who loved him. Who was in love with him. Who would probably make that part of his routine as well, an everyday reminder that he belonged, body and soul, to Wen Ruohan…)

Lan Qiren was insisting on their leaving at once, which was quite reasonable under the circumstances. Wen Ruohan certainly wasn’t objecting. His sect’s disciples, who had rushed over as soon as he’d been able to properly signal them, had managed to keep a few of the assassins alive, including the one Lan Qiren had purposefully preserved. They had all been taken away to be interrogated – with the Fire Palace for once serving in its traditional capacity as a prison rather than Wen Ruohan’s personal playground – and answers would be forthcoming. Wen Ruohan had made that extremely clear to all of the assembled sect leaders.

Wen Ruohan had also made a number of very ominous statements about the vengeance he was imminently going to undertake as soon as he found out who was responsible for sending the assassins. Moreover, he had made clear that, as the victim of a dishonorable attack, he fully expected the cultivation world to back him in seeking reprisals, no matter what penalty he demanded – or else.

His announcement had spread a great deal of consternation throughout the crowd, all of whom were already somewhat keyed up due to the last near-war they’d been drawn into. It had caused any number of people to consider departing early as well, each to go back home to think over what to do next in peace rather than stay any longer in the Lotus Pier. Presumably it was those impending departures that had caused Yu Ziyuan to march up and pull Wen Ruohan aside for a quiet confrontation, with all of the seething, barely-concealed rage that had made her old Purple Spider moniker quite so famous visible on her face.

Again: not that Wen Ruohan cared.

Oddly enough, though, it seemed that something he’d said had soothed Yu Ziyuan’s fiery temper, or at least distracted her from it. Zidian was no longer making that irritating humming noise and her fingers no longer shook as if they were on the verge of being clenched into a fist; she was practically verging on normal.

Well, normal rage.

“Sect Leader Wen is very open-minded,” she said, very begrudgingly.

Wen Ruohan looked at Yu Ziyuan with some suspicion. Was she referring to the fact that he wasn’t blaming the Jiang sect for the assassination attempt? He’d wanted to, even though he was fairly certain they had nothing to do with it. Even if they hadn’t hired the assassins, it had been their negligence that had allowed the attack to occur at all, which meant that they ought to carry some share of the blame, and therefore some of the responsibility of making it up to him…but Lan Qiren had objected.

He’d said something about not sowing discord, or maybe about being easy on others. Wen Ruohan thought it was more likely that he just felt belatedly bad about having accidentally incited Cangse Sanren into stealing away the Jiang sect children at the same time she’d taken his nephews.

(They hadn’t told anyone that Cangse Sanren had brought them to the Nightless City, or indeed that Cangse Sanren and her family were currently residing with them rather than traveling the cultivation world. It seemed unwise to officially confirm it, lest they attract unwanted attention.)

“I will still be expecting Yunmeng Jiang’s support against the perpetrators, of course,” he clarified, but unexpectedly Yu Ziyuan waved her hand dismissively.

“Naturally you will have it,” she said coolly. “Whoever planned the attempt on your life, Sect Leader Wen, deliberately chose to use our Jiang sect as its scapegoat. In order to restore our good name, we must of course take every measure necessary to seek vengeance. That was not what I meant.”

“What, then?”

Very uncharacteristically, Yu Ziyuan hesitated for a while before answering. Just as Wen Ruohan was about to lose patience, she finally spoke, saying, “I meant…in the matter of your marriage.”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows. What about his marriage? He’d made an excellent marriage. He’d known it from the start, and now the rest of the cultivation world was starting to realize it, too. And they hadn’t even figured out the bit about the classes yet!

None of that seemed to him to fit the criteria of rendering him “open-minded,” though. So what was Yu Ziyuan talking about?

Yu Ziyuan seemed to realize that she’d lost him, a frown appearing on her face as she watched the confusion on his.

“Do you really not mind?” she asked. “You are the stronger party, politically and personally, and you’re both men, not restrained by convention – shouldn’t Lan Qiren be the one calling you husband, rather than the other way around?”

Oh, so it was that again.

Ridiculous. Hadn’t they already covered that?

“My husband,” Wen Ruohan said, emphasizing the word mostly for the amusement it gave him to see the way it made her frown deepen, “is an innate conservative. He’s very fixed in his habits, and averse to change. Having been raised with the expectation that he would one day become a husband, it pleases him to be one, and it pleases me to see him pleased. What more does there need to be than that?”

“It cannot be that simple.”

“Why not? As you said, we’re not restrained by convention.” He smirked, deciding to needle her further. “Isn’t that part of your Jiang sect’s motto? Isn’t it ‘Make it work’?”

Her eye twitched again. “Attempt the impossible.”

“Isn’t that what I said? Make it work despite it being impossible.”

Yu Ziyuan scowled at him. “A mountain cannot contain two tigers,” she said testily. “A household cannot have two husbands. If he is the husband, then you are the wife, Sect Leader Wen. You cannot possibly be satisfied with the expectation that you are to submit to him, to abide by etiquette and decorum for him, to restrict your own activities for his sake…!”

“Does the sun care for the expectations of the earth?” Wen Ruohan asked carelessly. Lan Qiren had never demanded his submission in anything, except in bed – and even there, it was only ever something that added to Wen Ruohan’s pleasure, never something that had turned into an expectation or an insult. Lan Qiren had never once thought that what they did in bed meant anything about how they conducted their life outside it, as some men might have. On the contrary, when they were in public, it was Lan Qiren who sought wherever possible to abide strictly by etiquette, and part of that etiquette was supporting Wen Ruohan’s sect as the sect he’d married into, which in turn by default meant supporting Wen Ruohan himself as sect leader. “I have never restricted myself for the sake of others. I hardly plan to start now.”

“Really. Then does that mean, Sect Leader Wen, that you plan to take on the duties of a wife as well?” she asked scathingly.

“Actually, Qiren seems to have gotten it into his head that it is the duty of a husband to do the satisfying,” Wen Ruohan said dryly. “A Gusu Lan peculiarity, I expect. I wasn’t planning on disabusing him of the notion.”

Yu Ziyuan turned red. “That’s not what I meant!”

Wen Ruohan scoffed. “Then what do you mean? Do you expect me to manage my household like some commoner? I manage my sect, that’s close enough.”

“It is exceptionally different.”

“Perhaps for you,” Wen Ruohan said condescendingly. “Allow me to remind you that I am sect leader. I am free to implement my will as I wish – however I wish – and you have not identified one good reason why I cannot deviate from tradition.”

“At least you know you are deviating from tradition,” she snapped.

Wen Ruohan just barely restrained himself from saying something sarcastic like And of course your marriage is such a model of happy compliance with tradition, mostly since he was pretty sure she really would try to kill him if he did.

From the look on her face, he’d managed to convey the message anyway.

“If it matters to you, then it matters to you,” he said indifferently instead. “It certainly doesn’t to me.”

Yu Ziyuan’s expression somehow worsened, which he hadn’t thought was possible.

“We’ll be leaving now,” he said smoothly, deciding that it would be impolitic to drive his hostess into apoplexy. Not to mention that it would be such a shame to rob himself of the moral high ground right after a perfectly good assassination attempt had given it to him. “Qiren wants to fly back to the Nightless City to avoid any threat of ambush, and we must leave early if we are to arrive before the end of xu shi, which of course we must. You know how Gusu Lan is.”

Everyone knew how Gusu Lan was.

(If Wen Ruohan was ever to seek to invade the Cloud Recesses, he would be wise to launch his attack in the evening, right when their internal clocks would be urging them to rest instead of fight. Not that he would, of course – he couldn’t even imagine Lan Qiren’s reaction if he did, not even if it was forced upon him by Qingheng-jun’s actions. It was only something he’d considered before, in the abstract hypothetical…)

“Have a good journey,” Yu Ziyuan said. She was gritting her teeth again.

Wen Ruohan smirked and took his leave.

And then he took Lan Qiren, who was very relieved to hear that they were finally departing, and went home.

Wen Ruohan spent the entire flight back to the Nightless City, painfully long and boring as it was, feeling lighter than air.

Sure, there were still problems to be dealt with, not least of which was figuring out who had tried to have him killed – not just killed, but drowned, and at a party surrounded by the rest of the cultivation world, no less. Whoever it was had figured out that Wen Ruohan had used up all of his spiritual energy, that he was temporarily vulnerable, and they were undoubtedly already thinking through the next step in their plan, knowing that they only had a brief window in which to act before Wen Ruohan regained his invincibility.

Really, his paranoia ought to be going completely haywire, questioning everyone and everything, trying to figure out who was behind it – given that it couldn’t be Qingheng-jun, who was too newly out of seclusion to have the resources necessary to train up assassins unless there was something very significant Lan Qiren had left out of his descriptions of the Lan sect – and his political instincts ought to be focused on how all of these developments would impact the balance of power in the cultivation world and how to turn them in his sect’s favor. Even considering it purely from the standpoint of cultivation, he ought to be worrying about how weak he still was, how tired he was, how much the fight and even this journey home was taking out of him.

Instead, Wen Ruohan couldn’t stop smiling.

(Interestingly enough, it turned out that genuine smiles while issuing threats only made people even more inclined to worry – exceeding even their reaction to an intimidating smirk or ominous scowl. Who knew?)

But in his defense: Lan Qiren was in love with him.

There was always that.

There was always going to be that, because Lan Qiren was a Lan, a good Lan, in the classic model of his sect. When he gave his heart away, he did so irrevocably. Even if things were to shatter between them, the way things had gone somehow wrong between Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie, or the way they had with his first wife, with his brother, with his family – even if Wen Ruohan did something utterly beyond the pale, utterly unforgivable, the fact that Lan Qiren loved him wouldn’t change.

Of course, if he did something like that, Lan Qiren would make his life absolutely miserable, up to and including leaving him in the dirt, and that probably after yelling at him until he went deaf. Lan Qiren had been quite emphatically clear about his intentions in that regard, repeating himself several times, though Wen Ruohan privately thought that it was all a little unnecessary.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t already know.

He’d figured it out after the fiasco with the Fire Palace: the price of Lan Qiren’s continued good regard was nothing more or less than his own good conduct, persistent and maintained.

Once, that would have been infuriating.

Wen Ruohan had always been his own person. He had always gone his own way, done things in his own style, bowed to no one – his Wen sect’s symbol was the sun, and he as their sect leader was the sun in splendor, directly overhead and shining in full midday glory. Even among his brothers he had always been the most stubborn, the most bull-headed, whether in his insistence on learning the sneered-upon “support skill” of arrays to the point of mastery instead of focusing on the sword or his slow but persistent approach to becoming sect leader, which had been successful in the end. He had never yielded to anyone, whether through force or coaxing. He had never adjusted his behavior for someone else’s sake.

But now…

Well.

After a lifetime of betrayals, his own or others’, Wen Ruohan was willing to consider it an equal trade.

Love for love, that was easy. Trust for trust would be more difficult, but he was the best of the best: he was Wen Ruohan. He wasn’t afraid of a challenge.

And it wasn’t as if he was going to find someone else he wanted more. Who could be more fascinating or full of ridiculous contradictions than Lan Qiren – a rigid moralist who had nevertheless demonstrated his sincerity through slaughter? That had always been a surefire way to Wen Ruohan’s heart, though not a route he’d previously believed Lan Qiren likely to take. It had always been more along the lines of what he’d gotten out of his relationship with Lao Nie, both of them vigorous and blood-thirsty and suiting each other perfectly – or at least, they had before the other man had grown distant and disdainful…

Well, never mind about that.

Wen Ruohan had Lan Qiren now, and if he played his cards right, he would have him forever.

That was surely something worth smiling about.

He continued smiling even when they arrived, frightening his servants. Lan Qiren didn’t notice, but then he was practically falling asleep standing up. Whether that was because of the energy expenditure of having to fly such a distance immediately after a vicious fight and emotional upheaval or simply that it had gotten late enough for all good proper Lan disciples to go to bed, it was impossible to tell.

“Do you require my services tonight?” Lan Qiren blearily asked Wen Ruohan, who snorted involuntarily in amusement at his serious expression.

“I think not,” he said dryly. “Look at you, you’re already yawning. I doubt you’d be able to, ah, rise to the occasion.”

Lan Qiren frowned censoriously at him. “Even if I cannot, I can still do my duty, if that’s what you desire.”

Wen Ruohan did desire, as it happened – he had a great deal of appreciation for Lan Qiren’s hands and tongue, both of which had become exceptionally skilled through the application of consistent practice – but he still said, “No need. You can make it up to me with interest tomorrow.”

It was an interesting novelty to deny himself for another’s sake. He’d observed that Lan Qiren, lacking as he did an internal instinct towards desire, at times also lacked a good sense of judgment as to when it was appropriate to offer to have sex, although tragically he’d picked up enough etiquette to be resistant to frolicking in public where people could see. It therefore fell to Wen Ruohan to bear the responsibility of being the final arbiter of such things, to ensure that Lan Qiren would be in a position to enjoy himself as well as providing enjoyment for his partner.

With a final yawn, Lan Qiren nodded and went off to find his bed, not bothering to wait for Wen Ruohan to join him. Presumably he’d figured out that Wen Ruohan was too full of nervous energy to rest, meaning that tonight was going to be one of his occasional bouts of insomnia.

Normally, on nights like these, Wen Ruohan would stalk through the halls of the Nightless City like a wandering ghost before eventually finding himself drawn to the Fire Palace and its screams, its reminder that he was alive, but that was unnecessary tonight. Tonight he already felt wholly alive, completely vibrant. In fact, that was the issue: he felt full of energy, like he wanted to do something. And not just anything, but something productive – to set up an experiment in arrays, perhaps, or practice sparring with the sword against some worthy opponent, or even…

Even…

Wen Ruohan smiled.

Cangse Sanren found him the next day.

“It’s already noon, you know,” she announced, having entered the room without knocking. “Also, my husband was the one who actually found you here, but he decided to nominate me to be the one to interrupt you. I’m less killable than he is.”

“Is that the case?” Wen Ruohan asked, not looking up from what he was doing. “And here I thought all you celestial mountain disciples were doomed.”

“We are. There’s some big scary beast marching towards my future, coming to tear me limb from limb; it’s inevitable, as sure as the dawn, but that also means there’s no point in worrying about it now. But putting that aside, people are more used to me being annoying, so they put up with it more.” She paused. “Are you painting? I didn’t know you knew how to paint.”

Wen Ruohan ignored her. He was almost done, so he wasn’t going to stop now just to talk.

“You’re a good painter,” she commented, peeking around his shoulder. “I had no idea. And I mean…you’re really good. Exceptionally good – ”

“You can stop sounding surprised about it at any point.”

“I’m just saying, I didn’t know you had hobbies other than torturing people.”

“This is not a hobby,” he clarified, finishing the final few strokes and putting down his brush. “This is an aberration. It’s a gift. For Qiren.”

“As if you would pick up a brush for anyone else,” she snorted, and inelegantly tried to shove him to the side so that she could get a better look at what he’d created. It didn’t work, of course, since he was stronger than she was, but he stepped aside anyway. “…huh. That’s…not what I expected. This is the first painting you’re going to give to him?”

Wen Ruohan shrugged. Other than his brief flirtation with portraiture, which had been an exclusively financial decision during a period of time when his backing within the Wen sect had been especially shaky, he’d always treated painting the way he did his cultivation: something to develop and nurture and even perfect, but not to force.

Back when he’d been alive, his favorite brother, Wen Ruoyu, had been Wen Ruohan’s primary target for these sorts of painting gifts. He’d had a fondness for collecting things, so he always accepted the gifts, but he’d found them confusing. You say this is meant for me? As in, you painted it specifically for me? he’d often asked, squinting at whatever the latest one was. What in the world do you mean by giving me this in particular? What’s the symbolism here stand for? What does it mean?

If I could have told you what it meant, I wouldn’t have needed to paint it, now would I? Wen Ruohan had always retorted. Tell me if you like it or not. If you don’t, I’ll take it back and give you another.

I like it, I like it! Don’t you dare take away things that are mine!

“Well, it’s not like I didn’t know you were several kinds of fucked up in the head,” Cangse Sanren remarked, interrupting Wen Ruohan’s wandering thoughts. “If there’s anyone who’d think that painting a war scene is a good gift for their lover, it would certainly be you. But lucky for you, Qiren’s taste in art runs towards the complicated, so I think he might like it anyway.”

Wen Ruohan had indeed painted a war scene, though he was mildly impressed that Cangse Sanren had been able to identify it as such. There were no people in it – it was mostly trees, and rocks, and blood, the occasional glint of broken steel and furrows dug deep. Hidden in the painting were the signs of cultivators at battle: splintered bark with smoldering anchor points, smeared ash and cinnabar left behind by burnt talismans, sharp and unnatural angles revealing cuts by sword or string.

Color had been used only sparingly, as an accent, and his brushwork was as brutal and ruthless as it had ever been, leaving the whole image with a gloomy and morbid air, grey, hopeless, and depressing.

He’d even painted it from the angle he’d once seen it from, with the trees reaching up into the heavens, tangled limbs suffocating the sky.

It was probably not an appropriate gift to give to one’s lover.

Wen Ruohan was going to give it to him anyway. Maybe he really would get lucky, and it would suit Lan Qiren’s tastes. Even if it didn’t, though, that would be fine – the point had always been in the making and the giving.

“Where is Qiren, anyway?” he asked.

“Meditating in your yard. He did sect business for a shichen in the morning, earlier on, once he realized you were busy, but as soon as he finished the urgent business, he told them all to come back tomorrow with the rest.”

“Good.” Wen Ruohan hadn’t been planning to do any business at all. Lazy days were what secretaries were for. “Next question: where are the children?”

Cangse Sanren arched her eyebrows. “Yours, mine, the Lan or the Jiang?”

“I meant Qiren’s nephews, as it happens. But you referred to mine – did you just mean Chao-er, or is Xu-er back?”

“Yes, he arrived yesterday morning, so there’s both of them here. He’s in his room, as are all the others. Do you want to see him?”

Oddly enough, even though he had no specific purpose in mind, Wen Ruohan found that he did.

“Father!” Wen Xu stood up quickly when Wen Ruohan strode into his rooms. So quickly, in fact, that he accidentally knocked all the papers off his desk and all over the floor. “I didn’t – I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I wanted to confirm that you were in one piece after what happened with the army in Jiujiang, Xu-er,” Wen Ruohan said mildly, doing his best not to smirk. Unfortunately for his son, Wen Ruoyu had also been a master of the “knock everything off the table so that they don’t see what I was looking at” dodge, and it hadn’t worked when he’d done it, either. “I am pleased to see that you are.”

“Uh, yeah,” Wen Xu said. He was blinking rapidly. “I…Teacher Lan said the same thing.”

Wen Ruohan arched his eyebrows. Lan Qiren moved quickly when he wanted to, it appeared – Wen Xu was already calling him “Teacher Lan” despite having undoubtedly met him all of maybe once. “Did he?”

Wen Xu looked embarrassed for whatever reason, so Wen Ruohan put his hands behind his back and gave his son an expectant look.

“He said you were proud of me for how I handled myself. Even though all I did was get sent away!” Wen Xu blurted out, then looked horrified at himself. Presumably at the gross sentimentality of what Lan Qiren had said, which was more than a little ridiculous – Wen Xu really hadn’t done anything of note, not unless one counted not complaining about being sent away and listening to the generals’ advice to avoid making the situation worse. And, well, not getting kidnapped and used as blackmail at any point while retreating.

Which Wen Ruohan supposed had been rather helpful.

Well, be your spouse’s partner and all that. If he wanted Lan Qiren to have a genuine shot at improving Wen Xu, it wouldn’t do to undercut his authority as a teacher before he’d even had a chance to get started.

“I am,” he said, and reasoned virtuously to himself that it wasn’t a lie even if he hadn’t given the subject a single thought before this exact moment – after all, he was always proud of his sons, who were his bloodline and therefore superior to all others. Anyway, even if it was, it wasn’t like the Wen sect abided by Do not tell lies. “You did well.”

Wen Xu looked stunned to the point of breathlessness.

Actually, he looked like he’d stopped breathing entirely.

Wen Ruohan decided that that was probably enough torment for a teenager for one day.

“You should write to your master in the army and advise him that I will be keeping you by my side for the near future,” he said, moving to practical matters instead. “If he wishes to continue your training, he should send someone here.”

Wen Xu recovered with admirable speed, straightening his spine and looking as dependable as he could at fifteen. “Yes, Father. I’ll do that at once!”

Wen Ruohan nodded. And then, because he could, he added, nodding at the pile of paper on the floor: “I’ll leave you to your romance novels, then.”

The horrified sound Wen Xu made was appalling.

Wen Ruohan walked off, chuckling to himself.

Continuing his inexplicable impulse from earlier, he decided to check in briefly on Wen Chao as well.

“Go away,” Wen Chao said, not looking up from where he was lying on his stomach reading something with a great deal of pictures and absolutely no substance. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“You do not command me, Chao-er.”

“Father!” Wen Chao jumped up at once. He didn’t make any effort to hide his picture-book – a heavily illustrated adventure, rather than a romance – and scurried over, looking delighted to see him, as usual. “Father, you’re here, you’re here!”

“Mm. Tell me what you have been up to.”

“I’ve been spending time with the other sect heirs, just like you told me to,” Wen Chao said proudly. “They’re very annoying, lots of trouble, but I can handle them. They’re no match for me!”

Wen Ruohan had no difficulty in discerning that this was extremely high praise for Wen Chao’s new friend group, potentially even gratitude and joy that they’d willingly included Wen Chao in their antics, and also that Wen Chao desperately wanted the present state to keep going forever.

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said. “Continue as you are. Become close to them and learn more about them, learn from their virtues and vices both. And listen when Teacher Lan tells you things meant to improve you. Make me proud.”

“Yes, Father! I will!”

That done, Wen Ruohan finally made his way down the hall to where his original targets, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, were being housed. He needed the two of them to do something for him.

After all, he owed Lan Qiren a debt, and it was time to deliver.

“Qiren,” he said, walking into their rooms later that afternoon. “I have something for you.”

He’d picked a good time: Lan Qiren was neither meditating nor playing his guqin, and neither was he composing – an activity that also involved a guqin, but a great deal more angry plucking, grumbling, and furious scribbling. Instead, he was only writing something down on scrap paper, though whatever the content of the note was, it was making him frown deeply, with a furrow between his brows that suggested that the subject was genuinely concerning to him.

“There you are,” Lan Qiren said, looking up. “I have something to say to you as well – ”

He paused, his expression suddenly clearing, discomfort making way for an expression of surprise, as well as something that seemed torn between pleasure and apprehension. “Did you say that you had something for me?”

“I did,” Wen Ruohan said agreeably. “Several things, in fact. Is what you have to say urgent?”

“Not at all,” Lan Qiren said bemusedly, rising to his feet and coming over. “It can wait, and indeed I would insist that it do so, given the alternative. What have you gotten me?”

Wen Ruohan produced two small booklets from inside his robes and handed them over.

Still looking somewhat wary, Lan Qiren accepted them, then opened the first one.

A moment later, he let out a surprised bark of laughter.

Wen Ruohan smirked triumphantly, watching the tension in Lan Qiren’s shoulders disappear. The man was too used to bad surprises, to everything that was unknown or a change being a bad thing – it was about time that he learned that some changes were good.

“I realize that my behavior was inappropriate, both in the specific situation and in general,” Lan Qiren read out loud. “When I am angry, I should withdraw from the situation and do what it takes to master my emotions, to better maintain my own discipline, before making any bad decisions. Under no circumstance should I take my mood out on other people, and especially not family. Additionally, I particularly recognize that I should always take the time to listen to you before making a final judgment. I have learned a valuable lesson from what I did, and I will not do it again – Wen Ruohan, did you get Xichen to write you an apology essay for me?”

“I got both your nephews to write me apology essays to give to you,” Wen Ruohan corrected him. “The second one is from Wangji.”

“Of course it is.” Lan Qiren’s shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter again. “That’s - this is terrible. Your apologies keep getting worse and worse – and this one is unnecessary! I have already forgiven you.”

“This one isn’t an apology. It’s punishment.”

Lan Qiren’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?”

“You said the purpose of punishment is deterrence and remediation – that I need to take some loss in order to show my sincerity, to pay for the past and to make a deposit as assurance for good conduct in the future. A loss that means something to me, the way pain and time don’t.” Wen Ruohan reached out and cupped Lan Qiren’s cheek with his hand. “Something that can show you that I really have…how did he put it? That I ‘learned a valuable lesson from what I did, and will not do it again’.”

Lan Qiren leaned into his touch, smiling faintly. “And you think you have done that with this? What is your logic?”

Wen Ruohan found himself returning the smile. There it was, there was what he’d been looking for.

Lan Qiren was giving him the benefit of the doubt.

On the surface, it was patently ridiculous to think that convincing two boys to write essays could be a sufficient punishment, something that it could constitute a loss for someone of Wen Ruohan’s stature and power. Lao Nie would have thought he was joking, would have laughed along with a jest he wasn’t making, while his wives would have thought he was being sarcastic, that he was mocking them; they would have stormed out, maybe after throwing something at his head.

Lan Qiren just waited, certain that an explanation (of whatever quality) would be forthcoming.

“In our first visit to the Lotus Pier, I offered to help your nephews find you,” Wen Ruohan said, withdrawing his hand. “But not for free. I asked each of them to promise me a favor: one each.”

Lan Qiren frowned. “Unrestricted?”

“Your Xichen tried his best – he insisted on it being ‘nothing bad.’ But he’s young. He put no other restrictions on it, neither time, nor goal, nor extent…”

Lan Qiren winced. An open-ended favor like that, from a future sect leader, from a sect that did not make promises lightly, that did not break promises lightly, not even when they were extracted under duress…he knew exactly the sort of mischief Wen Ruohan could get up to with something like that. He’d seen it, even. In the ten years that the Lan sect was under his leadership, Lan Qiren would have been well aware that Wen Ruohan had twice utilized far more limited favors he was owed to devastating effect.

No, Lan Qiren well knew to be wary of such favors. He understood the gravity of such a thing – and just as he recalled it, that was when the understanding hit.

Wen Ruohan had the pleasure of seeing Lan Qiren genuinely shocked.

“You used those favors to get them to write these essays?” he exclaimed. “Surely not!”

Wen Ruohan smirked. “Is that sufficient loss for you?”

“More than sufficient! I would not have asked you to give up an advantage like that,” Lan Qiren said, frowning at him. “I might have sought to blunt the effects of the favors they had given, particularly in light of their age and immaturity, but a promise made is a promise made. Surely you know that – you are sect leader, and this is not a personal matter between us. Favors between sects is a matter of your sect, which is your first priority. I would not wish to abuse my position as your husband to interfere.”

“You might not wish to, but you might regardless,” Wen Ruohan said dryly, having figured out a little more of Lan sect cleverness with words by now. “And you might not, though I wish that you would.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are my husband,” Wen Ruohan said, as much for the pleasure of seeing Lan Qiren automatically smile at the reminder as to make the point. “That makes youhalf-master of my Wen sect in your own right…of our Wen sect. Our Wen sect is known for its arrogance, our superiority, our certainty that we deserve everything good in the world, and I would be very happy to see the same in you, Qiren.”

He shook his head.

“It is not abusing your position to want things, even things that are not necessarily to our Wen sect’s immediate benefit,” he said. “I want you to want things. I want you to ask for…no, I want you to demand everything that you want. I want you to learn to expect to receive what you ask for, rather than expecting to have to struggle to obtain it.”

Lan Qiren didn’t understand, Wen Ruohan could see that.

He found his voice softening. “You deserve the best, Qiren. You deserve to have the best given to you: without pain, without struggle, without effort, just for the asking. The world is your rightful due, and if you only ask for it, I would give it to you.”

“You are not using me as an excuse to take over the world,” Lan Qiren informed him primly, but there was something in his eyes that suggested that he had understood a little of what Wen Ruohan meant, even if he didn’t comprehend the fullness of it. At minimum, he’d understood that Wen Ruohan meant that he was family now – Wen Ruohan, who had always put his family over everyone, for good or for evil, with reason or without, following faithfully in the path laid out by Wen Mao in prizing their Wen clan over the whole world. Perhaps he even understood what Wen Ruohan was really saying: that he would now put him first, first before anything.

It might take some time before Lan Qiren could really bring himself to believe what Wen Ruohan told him, and even longer before he was willing to act with that glorious arrogance that Wen Ruohan so longed to see in him, that carelessness and freedom that accompanied true power. But at least he understood that that was something Wen Ruohan wanted to give to him.

A good change, rather than bad.

“This is my promise to you,” Wen Ruohan told him, nodding at the essays. “My loss, yes, my sect’s loss, also yes, but it is the loss I should take. It is my payment for not trusting you, as I should have, because not trusting you is a loss.”

Wen Ruohan was known for many things. He was blood-thirsty, a tyrant, a madman who delighted in torture; he was brilliant, a master of cultivation, ancient and terrifying. He was paranoid and cruel and selfish, and he put his ambitions above everything else.

He might be all those things, but Lan Qiren had chosen him anyway. The least he could do was choose him in return – to let Lan Qiren change him the way he wanted to change Lan Qiren. To trust him, yes, but also…to be worthy of his trust in return.

To be anything less –

Now that would be the real loss.

And, of course, Wen Ruohan did not lose.

Lan Qiren was staring at him open-mouthed.

“Do you understand?”

“…yes. I understand.”

Wen Ruohan kissed him. After a moment, he released him.

Lan Qiren still looked dazed. It was a good look on him.

“Now tell me,” Wen Ruohan teased. “Was that a good enough punishment?”

“If I were grading you, I would pass you with honors,” Lan Qiren said fervently.

Wen Ruohan laughed.

“Now, it is your turn to tell me,” Lan Qiren added, recovering a little. “Do I dare read what Wangji wrote…?”

“I genuinely have no idea,” Wen Ruohan said cheerfully. “He did it all in musical notation.”

“Oh no.”

“I like your second nephew. He’s clever.”

“Please refrain from getting any bright ideas. I am already working diligently on helping him recover his equilibrium; he does not need any further assistance in growing any more feral, and still less does he need to grow any more tyrannical than he already is.” Lan Qiren shook his head. “I will review the essays in full later, and I expect to be greatly amused by them, both immediately and for a great deal of time into the future. Thank you.”

“Of course. Would you like to see what else I have for you?”

Lan Qiren glanced at him sharply. “There’s more?”

“No need to sound so plaintive,” Wen Ruohan chuckled. “Do not do things in excess, or however the rule goes.That was all for the punishment. This one is an out-and-out gift – I painted something for you.”

“You painted…? Is that where you were all morning?”

“All night and all morning,” Wen Ruohan corrected. “It’s in my secondary study, if you’d like to come see it now. Or would you prefer to first discuss the subject that you mentioned earlier?”

Oddly enough, that caused the worried furrow to return to Lan Qiren’s brow, and he hesitated for a long moment before eventually saying, “Do not harbor doubts or jealousy, do not fail to carry out your promise. I think we had better discuss it now.”

That didn’t sound promising. Wen Ruohan tilted his head to the side. “Very well. What is it that you wanted to discuss, then?”

“It is about Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren said slowly. “I promised to myself that I would speak with you on the subject at the first instant I could. And yet, as time goes on, I find myself searching for further reasons to refrain for a little longer – which is misconduct on my part, although understandable. I have only just had you confirm that you returned my feelings, which has brought me tremendous joy. When one feels great joy, one seeks to preserve it…I suppose I wished to have you to myself for a little longer.”

“You do have me to yourself,” Wen Ruohan said, a little confused. “Lao Nie and I are not on the best of terms, as you yourself have seen. While it is true that we have never officially broken off our relationship, his recent actions and behavior make it clear enough that that will be the inevitable result, and sooner rather than later. He suspects me at every turn, disdains me, becomes angry at anything and everything I do – ”

“He had a qi deviation.”

Wen Ruohan stopped.

For a moment his mind rebelled, refusing to accept what his ears told him they had heard. “What?”

“He had a qi deviation, not long ago,” Lan Qiren said. His voice was solemn, serious, and Do not tell lies. He was telling the truth. “His son, Nie Mingjue, told me about it. You know what fate awaits the sect leaders of Qinghe Nie. You know how it looks, when it starts. You know what it does to them. How it makes them feel – ”

“Rage,” Wen Ruohan said, finding that his lips had started tingling, even if the rest of his face felt strangely numb. He did know. He’d seen Lao Nie’s father and grandfather suffer from the very same thing. “Disdain. Irrationality. Suspicion, paranoia…are you saying that you think his qi deviation is the genesis of his recent behavior?”

“I believe it is likely. You know how subtle qi deviations can be, particularly the small ones that the Nie sect initially suffer from – even if it was only discovered recently, it is likely that the deviation has been affecting him for months, perhaps even a year or two. From what I have observed of your disintegrating relationship, and based on your description of past events, his seeming distrust and your reaction to it…yes, it seems likely.”

Wen Ruohan…

Wen Ruohan didn’t know what to do with that information.

He didn’t want to believe Lan Qiren. He wanted to accuse him of lying, even though he knew he didn’t. He wanted to throw something, hit something, hurt something – he wanted to claim that this was all some sort of sick scheme, designed to strike him right when he was most vulnerable. But he’d promised to trust Lan Qiren, and he did trust him, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that Lan Qiren did not lie.

Lao Nie had had a qi deviation.

Lao Nie was dying.

Lao Nie – Lao Nie had come to Wen Ruohan when he’d been at his lowest point, when he’d been sick and tired of living, entertained by pain and nothing more. At that time, Wen Ruohan had been on the verge of considering entering the way of clarity, a path that cut off his feelings entirely as a means of avoiding the endless misery of having them mostly cut off already. He’d been searching for some method, any method, to stop the way he felt dead inside most of the time, dead and bored. Dead, and bored, and…and alone.

Lao Nie hadn’t let him be alone.

Lao Nie had brought to bear all the good cheer his considerable force of personality gave him, and he had aimed it at him. Lao Nie had laughed at him, had teased him, had all but demanded a place in his bed, and Wen Ruohan had found him amusing. It hadn’t been anything more than that at the start of it. He’d been glad that it’d been nothing more than that – he’d thought at the time that he didn’t want any more connections to the world to tie him down, to hold him back. What Lao Nie had offered him had seemed perfect.

A friend, an occasional lover, someone willing to slaughter his way into Wen Ruohan’s good graces, but without any serious commitment…it’d been easy. Casual. Light-hearted, the way Lao Nie always was, no matter the circumstances.

Even when their sects had been at odds, it hadn’t ever gotten any more difficult. Lao Nie was a Nie after all; he was straightforward and blunt, even when he was being clever or tricky. He held no fear of lying, did not refrain from it like Lan Qiren, but his actions, at least towards Wen Ruohan, were so lacking in malice that it was impossible to take offense from them. He’d always saved his malice for other people, and let Wen Ruohan share in the fun with him…

Yes, that was it. Lao Nie had always been fun.

And then he’d disappeared for a while, and returned with Nie Mingjue.

That had been the first break between them. A small one, but still a break – it wasn’t that Wen Ruohan hadn’t expected the man to marry eventually, since as sect leader he had a duty to continue his family line, but for whatever reason he’d expected to be involved in the process. Helping pick out some likely girl, debating her merits, that sort of thing, the same way they amiably argued over the pick of prostitutes during parties they attended. He hadn’t expected to be taken by surprise.

He hadn’t expected to care.

It had been only a little consolation that everyone else had been taken by surprise, too.

And of course it had helped that the First Madam Nie, Lao Nie’s much talked-of goddess, never actually made an appearance herself, even if she did get full honors in the Nie sect’s family record. It had been awkward, yes, and had made Wen Ruohan realize that he felt more things for Lao Nie than he really ought to – he’d reacted by ignoring said feelings for nearly a decade – but it hadn’t really felt like a betrayal.

The second wife felt like a betrayal.

They’d argued over that one. Lao Nie hadn’t understood why Wen Ruohan would care, and Wen Ruohan was too arrogant, and too embarrassed, to admit the truth that he did. After all, hadn’t he been the one to insist on them being nothing more than casual friends who occasionally indulged in more than that? And that was all he wanted, too, or thought he’d wanted, only he’d also wanted to be the most important part of Lao Nie’s life, and it came as a nasty shock to discover that he wasn’t. To discover that Lao Nie was actively pursuing others, and that he would pick them over Wen Ruohan if it came to it.

Things had never quite gotten better after that.

Oh, once Lao Nie’s second wife had died – or disappeared, whichever – they had fallen back into each other’s orbit, being almost too familiar with each other not to. They were the leaders of Great Sects, who knew virtually no peer; of that smaller group, they were the only two who were genuinely powerful in their personal capacities, or at least so Wen Ruohan had thought at the time. He’d known that Lao Nie was exceptionally fond of Lan Qiren, fond enough to almost drive Wen Ruohan into jealousy, but luckily he’d heard enough of Lan Qiren’s lectures to know that the two of them would never be compatible in any real sense. Even if Lao Nie had managed to get Lan Qiren into bed, the way Wen Ruohan had semi-seriously suggested to the man a few times that he try to do and which Lao Nie had laughed off as impossible, he’d been confident that Lan Qiren would never eclipse his own position in Lao Nie’s regard.

It certainly hadn’t occurred to him that he might be the one to fall for Lan Qiren in the end.

Wen Ruohan felt confident that he would have acted in the same way, fallen in the same way, even if his relationship with Lao Nie had not deteriorated to such an extent before he’d married Lan Qiren, but that didn’t change the fact that it had. It didn’t change the fact that Wen Ruohan had been growing steadily more offended by the way Lao Nie never seemed to trust him anymore, the way he always ascribed the worst possible motives to him, the way he seemed to think so little of him. Lao Nie had always had a suspicious side to him, which Wen Ruohan had once liked, a point of similarity between them, but he hadn’t liked it when it was aimed at him. Especially when he actually hadn’t done anything to deserve it!

Suspicion – anger – disdain –

It had never occurred to Wen Ruohan that it could have been caused by a qi deviation.

Perhaps it should have, given Lao Nie’s poisonous heritage, but it never had. Lao Nie was Lao Nie: he laughed where his ancestors would have shouted, let his anger carry him forward without letting it master him. He’d looked for solutions to his familial issue, of course, the way all of his ancestors had, but he’d done so idly, not serious, never serious. He always took things so easily. How could he die of rage?

How could he die?

“How long?” Wen Ruohan asked. The Nie sect doctors knew their business by now, after as many generations as it had been. “What do they say?”

“Ten years,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan actually took a step back, staggering, horrified: that was so short. “Nie Mingjue said they’d expressed hope for fifteen, maybe even twenty, but that may have been meant only as comfort. As you know, Nie sect leaders die faster the more powerful they are, and Lao Nie’s cultivation is very strong.”

Wen Ruohan shook his head in denial, but he knew even as he did that it wasn’t something that he could deny.

Lao Nie was strong. And now that very strength was going to take him to the end of his life – too young, too soon, even for a Nie. It was all well and good to speak of trading your future for your present, but one day the future would come calling to collect the debt that had been incurred…

“I told Nie Mingjue that we would help however we could, do whatever we could about it,” Lan Qiren said. “Both of us. I assume you do not object?”

“There isn’t anything to be done about it.” Wen Ruohan pressed his fingers to his temples, which throbbed with a sudden headache, his body already starting to express the grief his mind could not yet accept. “Do you think the Qinghe Nie hate their children? They know what inheritance they are passing to them, they know what it costs, what it will take. They all look for a way out, every one of them…if it was easy, if there was a solution, don’t you think they would have found it by now? Every generation has its geniuses. Medicine, cultivation, esoteric arts; they’ve tried them all.”

“I know. There is no guarantee of success. We can only continue to try.” Lan Qiren hesitated, his face twisting into some strange expression that Wen Ruohan couldn’t quite parse. “If you wish…I had already told you that – that I would not object, if you wished to – with Lao Nie – ”

It was unusually garbled for the typically eloquent Lan Qiren, but Wen Ruohan still got the gist.

He shook his head.

“His mood at the party was foul,” he said. “He’s not taking it well, I assume? He’s still processing the revelation himself. Right now he wouldn’t accept a kind word, much less anything else.”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“And…” Wen Ruohan grimaced. “And I don’t know if I want to, anyway.”

That took Lan Qiren by surprise, Wen Ruohan could tell. He hadn’t been expecting that.

In fairness, before he’d said it, Wen Ruohan hadn’t been expecting to say it. If a few months ago someone had come to him and told him that they could prove that Lao Nie hadn’t really meant all the ways he’d been cruel or distrusting – and even if they’d warned him that there was no way to fix it, no way to have the old Lao Nie back, back as he’d been when things had been good – then Wen Ruohan wouldn’t have hesitated to jump right back into his bed.

But that was then. That was before he’d had Lan Qiren – Lan Qiren, who wasn’t light-hearted, who didn’t take everything easily, who was serious and sober and sincere. Who’d given Wen Ruohan his heart, whole and entire; who trusted him, and had faith in him, and forgave him, even against his better instincts. Who loved him, and wasn’t afraid to tell him. Who had let Wen Ruohan change him, who hadn’t been afraid to seek to change Wen Ruohan in turn.

Lan Qiren, who’d told him with all seriousness that he had lost his mind over him.

Wen Ruohan wasn’t alone anymore. He didn’t need to be content with the scraps of Lao Nie’s inconstant heart, which in truth belonged to no one and likely would never, could never. He didn’t need to be constantly hurting himself by wanting more than he could get, and never getting even what he deserved as the man’s friend.

“The qi deviation might have been the cause of his changed behavior,” Wen Ruohan said slowly, feeling it out for himself even as he spoke. “But it still happened. He still did it. Isn’t it the same for you, what happened with the Fire Palace? Just because there was a valid explanation doesn’t change the reality of it – what happened, still happened.”

He’d been hurt by Lao Nie’s seeming disregard of him. He’d been angry, yes, his vanity offended, but…it had been another betrayal, in a lifetime full of them.

Wen Ruohan was so very tired of betrayals.

He could admit, if only to himself, that some of the incompatibility between him and Lao Nie had preceded the qi deviation. Wen Ruohan was ambitious and greedy, he couldn’t be content with only a part of a person’s heart rather than the totality of it, and Lao Nie wasn’t capable of giving him what he wanted. And Wen Ruohan wasn’t able to give Lao Nie what he wanted, which was a connection that didn’t come with jealousy or unhappiness, something to enjoy without concern, without any strings attached.

“I forgave you for the Fire Palace,” Lan Qiren protested.

“Not everyone is you,” Wen Ruohan said, and omitted to mention you’re also in love with me, so your judgment is skewed in my favor – I’ll never complain about having an unfair advantage, but I prefer to recognize when they exist. “Anyway, like I said, it’s not the time. Lao Nie has ten years, and we will help him, just as you promised Nie Mingjue. Maybe we’ll figure out some way to give him a little longer – ”

Alternatively, they could try to find a way to make him immortal.

Wen Ruohan knew that most people thought he was joking when he said that becoming a god would solve a lot of his problems, but it really would. He was already so powerful, surely he just needed a little bit more…

Anyway, that was a later problem. As was the fact that Lan Qiren was also not yet immortal, though Wen Ruohan felt very confident that he’d be able to solve that problem before it became a pressing issue.

(And once they solved the problem of Lao Nie dying, they could perhaps once again discuss the other question. Lao Nie had always been very good in bed, and Wen Ruohan would be delighted to have the chance to introduce Lan Qiren to that fact, if he were willing. But he would only invite him in as a guest, the way Lao Nie preferred, and this time he would leave his heart out of it.)

“For the moment, we need to figure out who is trying to kill us. That’s the immediate issue,” he concluded, deciding not to think further on the subject of those he loved dying when there was a more pressing practical concern, denial and postponement having always served him very well in the past. Anyway, it was relevant. After all, immortality, in the sense of not dying of old age, was all well and good, but it wouldn’t help you if someone assassinated you.

In fact, even knowing that it had happened, even having lived through it, the whole thing still seemed somehow fake to Wen Ruohan. Who would dare try to assassinate him? With actual assassins, no less. Even if he was personally weakened, he still had all his influence, all his army, all his sect behind him. Surely whoever had ordered it would know that he would take vicious reprisals against them? Why would anyone risk such a thing…?

“There should be an answer to that by now,” he added. “Should we go see what it is?”

Lan Qiren blinked owlishly at him, as if surprised. “Have you not already figured it out? It took me a little time, thinking about it, but in retrospect it seems obvious.”

Now it was Wen Ruohan’s turn to be startled. He most certainly had not figured it out.

“What,” he said, a little disbelievingly, “surely not your brother again?”

“No,” Lan Qiren said. “It was Jin Guangshan. We are going to have to go to war.”

[ronearoundblindly]

The Things We Do For Love

a Fools Rush In mini-tale for Valentine's Day

Steve Rogers x wife!LabLead!Reader (Sketch & Keeps❤️🤍💙)

Summary: An accident in the lab leaves you a bit less than desirable for a romantic evening.

Warnings for the teeniest, tiniest bit of language, but otherwise it's just hilarious fluff. This came from a prompt line of Valentine's Day starters and is my submission for @the-slumberparty's Blast From the Past Challenge!

Steve adjusted to enhanced senses fairly soon after the serum took hold. What took longer was recognizing where ‘regular human sense’ fell on his new scale of feeling, seeing, hearing, tasting, and smelling.

By all accounts, human or superhuman, Steve Rogers knows that scent—the one wafting from behind him as he cleans the stovetop—is foul before the door even opens.

The odor is so strong, so intensely pungent, that he has to squint in order to turn and look at you.

But there you are, standing on the front mat covered from head to toe in some sort of thick, putrid muck that lands somewhere on the color wheel as a tertiary combo of yellow and brown. No artist would use that…except maybe to represent such a horrible smell.

The shit—uh, right, the substance—is tough and rubbery, hiding huge swaths of you.

Steve not only covers his mouth, but he also pinches his nose closed in order to address the halted mess that you are right now.

“I have some questions,” he starts, swallowing to rid his mouth of the adjacent taste, “that I’m not going to ask. Except for the obvious are you okay?”

You sigh deeply. It’s clear you are nose blind due to the sheer amount of whatever it is on you. Steve almost wants to vomit in sympathy. He imagines most humans would have fainted by now.

“No,” you say, staring forward, “thanks for asking.”

You lift one foot up to see a thin line of gunk tracking in around your shoes.

“Damnit. Sketch, I need to get to the shower.” You look to him as if asking him to carry you the rest of the way.

“Will it wash off?!” Steve bursts, regretting releasing his nose the instant his hand swings out. “No, sorry, I just meant…no,” he tries again, firm, “use the guest bath. You’re not tarnishing our bathroom like that.”

He can’t make out your facial expression, so he steps around to get closer, god help him.

You nod which produces a kind of friction-squeaking sound. “It is water-soluble.”

Steve’s not encouraged and whispers, “is it feces?”

“Actually, it’s an experimental building material—” you toe off one shoe gently then use your heel to push away the other “—for one of the Union planets, but since it’s here on Earth and we have humidity, the rigidity isn’t the same. ‘Spose to be like concrete on their home world. Still pliable here which is good because—“ you walk on your socked feet, tiptoeing to the spare bath, Steve a respectable distance behind.

You don’t continue, instead struggling to pry off the now two-centimeter thick layer of the top over your torso.

“No, not those. Clothes are a total loss. Just get in and rinse. I’m taking them to the incinerator as soon as you’re presentable.”

He rushes to open the sliding door so you touch nothing on your way in.

“It’s not toxic, Steve. It’s meant to instantly make supported structures in the desert, but our new tech forgot about the expansion rate so—“

“Yeah, yeah, Keeps. Less talking, more washing.” He turns on the water. He imagines you can’t even feel the temperature through the layer.

“Don’t be an ass.”

He grimaces at the color thinning on its journey down the drain. “Don’t smell like one and we’ll talk.”

Your husband points to the back of the shower for you to drop your now malleable clothes and shoves the bar soap in your hands. For good measure, he drizzles liquid body wash down your back. He waits for most of the ick to rinse from your hair and face before helping scrub shampoo through. It’s…unclear if the smell is lingering on the clothes and tile only or if you still stink. “Uh god,” he coughs out, “should I get the vinegar? Would that do it?”

“Steve.”

At least he can see this very sour face you’re making.

“I’m serious. I won’t be able to sleep next to you like that.”

You simply turn the tap hotter. “You’re being a bit dramatic. Our dinner is at eight.”

He sputters. A tragic side effect of increasing the heat is that the smell now seems to bake into everything around you.

“Uh-uh. First things first. I get it if this is the field or out on a mission, but you are inside our home, and that is nasty. I’m getting the vinegar.”

He deliberately nudges the water to a cooler setting and points between his gaze and yours to communicate under no circumstances are you to think this is a relaxing affair. Cleaning your body is now your sole purpose in life as far as Steve is concerned. You just laugh, exasperated but understanding.

Anyone on this planet would agree you are currently rank.

Turns out vinegar doesn’t do shit for this aroma, but you get a text—that FRIDAY reads aloud because your phone sits in the lab on your desk where you left it—from Tony saying a paste of baking soda all over for ten minutes should do it. You remain soaking on the shower floor while Steve takes a bag of your clothes down to be burned and finds an outrageous amount of baking soda to smear all over your body.

Of course, since he has such an acute sense of smell, it’s not a ten minute process; it’s forty.

“Next you’re going to tell me that my eyeballs are too gross because I can’t put this nonsense on them.”

“I have eyedrops for that.”

“Steve!” You flick some of the white paste at your disheveled, focused husband who sincerely looks like he’s wondering where to drop you off in the woods instead of take to a nice dinner. “We have reservations in an hour. It’s time for me to start getting ready.”

“I love you. I love you so much, you know that. You will clear that whole place out if you go tonight.”

“It’s not funny, Sketch. It’s Valentine’s Day. You promised me that ridiculous golden dessert they serve,” you whine, flopping down on the tile.

“Now who’s being dramatic?”

You pout and huff. “Still you, spoil sport.”

He stands up straight, towering over your tiny tantrum, stretching a crick in his back from leaning over to help you for the better part of three hours now. “I will have them deliver whatever you want, honey, but trust me, I’m doing this out of love.”

“Prove it,” you say flatly.

Steve cocks his head, confused.

“If you truly love me,” you coo, “you’ll give me a kiss. Right now.”

Ah shit. He walked into that one. Maybe the stench has dipped below the human threshold, but Steve ‘Drug Dog’ Rogers still thinks you reek…in the most honest and loving way, of course.

 He rests his hands on his hips, squelching the waterlogged shirt now covered in god-only-knows-what, looking off to the side and licking his lips in thought.

He has to. He’s a good man. You’re his wonderful, smart, sassy-ass wife. It’s no big deal. Then he sniffs on instinct as a reaction to weighing his options, and yuck, that is…not pleasant, sweetheart.

You open your arms to draw him in. “Lab experiment meet lab experiment,” you snort.

“I will get you two gold desserts,” he starts negotiating, and you drop your hands with a frown. “Everything on the menu.”

“Found your Achilles heel, Rogers?” You maneuver carefully to your feet, almost slipping at the last second.

He does jump closer to help, but he doesn’t quite make it there. Both of you know Steve’s actual reflexes could get him to you if he wanted.

“One kiss or I will cling to you until you have to wash it off you, too.”

He’s…not encouraged.

“Fine, Mister Positive Reinforcement,” you grit out. “Give me one sweet kiss and I will stay in here scrubbing until the food arrives. Deal?”

Steve sighs. The things he does for love…

 Carefully, he steps forward and juts out his lips. He’s awkward, more awkward than those first dates you two went on, and it’s obvious he is holding his breath.

As you lean closer, he shuts his eyes, praying you understand that this is just one of those things that’s happened and caught him off-guard and is just…gross. It barely has anything to do with you. Of course, he’d love to take you out and shower you with love, affection, and praise, but right at this second, he’d love to just make you keep showering.

He feels awful about it. You smell so awful though.

Thank goodness your mouth was not covered in paste, and seeing as it was the first place you scraped away the original substance—that and your eyes,—your lips don’t hold any of the scent or taste of stuff.

Then your pasty hands clamp onto his cheeks and Steve moans, not in a good way.

When he pulls away quickly, you’re smiling, tracing the back of one hand down his forehead to pony-pet more residue over his face.

“My white knight,” you dub him.

Steve cracks, grinning from ear to ear.

“Keeps—” he lets your nickname rumble deep in his chest “—are you trying to get me to shower with you?”

“Oh, Captain,” you say, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling, “you’re losing your touch if it took you this long.”

For the water being lukewarm the whole time, it turns out to be a pretty hot shower. Good thing a super soldier can hold his breath extensively.

A long, long while later, sitting together on the floor in front of the couch with matching gilded donuts, Steve kisses your wet, peach-scented hair and smiles.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

You hum and turn to reveal gold leaf stuck across those plump lips he adores. “Happy Valentine’s Day, you big wuss.”

You get your good, proper, sweet kiss then, and the next day, the new guy gets put on active research probation.

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @claireelizabeth85 @patzammit @supraveng

So I also realized I've created a mess for myself with taglists. I used to only have Steve Rogers stories, and then I branched out. I don't actually know which people want to be tagged in everything, or just CE characters, or just Steve Rogers. IF YOU NOTICE A POST YOU WISHED TO BE TAGGED IN, PLEASE LET ME KNOW BY ASK OR REPLY! I'm working on it, I swear...

[Light Masterlist; Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[bwoahtastic]

Wait wait wait, I forgot that cheetah pups do squaks and have this soft black and white fur, so if Max's still a baby/toddler, he'd have it.

Imagine him walking around with dirt all over him, scared and hissy but also swuakinh in fear whenever someone comes too close. Then it starts to rain and storm and while everyone gets inside, Max hides under the porch or even a tree to not get too wet which doesn't work.

Toto wakes up during the storm because an old trusted person from his mafia knocks on the foor with a concerned look - they found the lonely cheetah pup from earlier that day again.

Toto doesn't even wait and just pulls a blanket over his shoulders and gets out. There, he sees Max and (in his style) gently asks the pup if he's lost, only getting a shaky squeak from Max, the poor pup shivering die to the cold and wetness in his fur.

That's when Toto's people get so shocked by Toto picking him up.

But also, what if Nico wasn't with Toto then? Like Toto found Max when he was barely two and two to three years later, Nico gets involved as a maid at first but he becomes Max's "second momma after Toto"?

Oh pls! Toto's men see the scared cub walking arounf but he seems harmless and won't let them close, squeaking and hissing snd hiding when rhey try.

Val going to wake toto cos the beta is worried about the pup in the storm anx he knows Toto won't ever be angry at him so he can risk it. Toto is instsntly up and finding a blanket and goes to talk to Maxy who is hiding in a tree. Max squeaking so sadly and he is shivering like crazy and finslly let's Toto scoop him up. The fur on his tummy is matted and dirty and poor thing is so scarwd and cold, ears fully pressed back S he let's out more scared noises!

Toto takes him inside and just holds him tucked against his chest for an hour, until Max is no longer as scared and cold before taking the squeaky little thing to get bathed! Max getd to cuddle more adter when he is clean and warm and cozy and purrs lots!

Maxy calling Toto momma but then later when Nico starts working for Toto, that's momma 2! Nico is sweet and sassy which makes lil maxy giggle! And nico will do zoomy races!

[nicistrying]

Sat 27th Jan

It's still fucking january 😂

Had a lovely day today. Nice walk with Maggie this morning, then went with my sister in law to get nails done which was long overdue, they were a mess. Got them ready for valentine's day and I think they're cute af 🥰💕

Came home and brushed Mags out which she doesn't usually let me do. There's just a couple of matted bits on her butt that I'm going to just cut out tomorrow rather than hurting her trying to untangle them. She was so tolerant today and usually she jumps away as soon as I get anywhere near her straggly bits so I'm not going to push it bc I need her to not hate getting brushed.

Went out in the garden to play with her and ended up getting it tidied up a lot which felt so good bc it's been such a mess over the winter. It doesn't look like much but the big wet patch at the bottom was an overspill compost heap as the compost bin was so full in the summer but I managed to get it all into the bin and swept up, all the pots weeded and most of the weeds pulled out of the flowerbed and the cracks in the pavement. Also found some potatoes I completely forgot we were growing 😂 they're teeny and not great but I'm still proud of them! Also see my favourite, it looks like a little animal 🐕

Went for a little run, shorter than usual bc I took an earlier turn off thinking I could loop back the way I came along the river but it just turned me around quicker. My legs were heavy from my workout on Thursday and my back was aching bc of my period but I still enjoyed it ☺️

Matt had just gotten in from work when I got home, briefly said hi to him then took Maggie out again before it got dark. Dropped her home and went straight back out to do the grocery shopping 😮‍💨 then had dinner, stretched and now am FINALLY in the bath with a gin & tonic. It's been lovely to be busy and on my feet all day after a pretty slow boring week at work. Happy weekend 🥂

[marinedecoder]

so when i was down visiting my family before xmas, my sister found out i do doll repairs and asked if i could fix up the hair on some of my six year old niece's toys. i was thrilled to have the opportunity, and my first victim patient is her Moana doll.

she started out looking like this:

hair matted to hell and back, she's got some soap caked into the corners of her lips and hips, and her feet are scuffed and lightly nibbled. no problem, i thought - i fixed up my old Pocahontas and she had all sorts of stuff caked into her hair, i've got this!

i didn't got this as much as i'd assumed. oh my god, her hair was a nightmare. i don't know what fibre it is - it's got an odd, dry, sort of crunchy texture, but it doesn't melt under heat. if anyone has clues, let me know!

this was her after her first run of conditioner and having had one or two locks of hair unpicked via combs while caked in said conditioner:

after drying, i gently combed through her hair with my fingers again and she wound up looking a bit like she'd been dragged backwards through a hedge.

still, we got through it with the aid of more conditioner and gently going through individual chunks of hair. she lost a great deal of hair, sadly, due to the frizzy, dry texture at the ends.

...like. a LOT of hair. also, my poor conditioner soaked counter top (feat. empty Iron Bru 1901, because i forgot to move the bottle for the picture)

the big chunk of hair came in handy, though. i sought out some advice from @dollsonmain, who advised me to try a boil wash. if it were my own doll, i'd have just cracked on. but she's not mine, so i used the Gross Hair Clump for a test boil. when it didn't melt, we got this:

i need to curl her hair now, but once that's done she'll be getting sent back home with her feet buffed and her hair re-set, ready to go for a hundred more baths, i'm sure.

also, pretty sure she's a more budget version of this doll:

just in case that helps sort out what kind of hair the poor doll has.

[littlestoffoxes]

Present Day

There are moments in our journeys, where Ash has been blissfully unaware of some of the dangers we get ourselves into.

Last night, however, seeing me mangled and in desperate need of healing...he was very aware of how much my body can take. And he was also very aware that he could lose me and vice versa.

After a potion and some healing words, I was doing alright... Ash refused to let me walk. He refused to put me down even when we got back to our shared living space with the others. Straight to our room and he shredded the clothes that I still had on, not that it mattered, they were destroyed for the most part anyway. I tried talking to him but I couldn't quite get through to him.

"Ash.. Ash... Wolf, I am fine. Minor injuries now. Nothing more....well, except now I'm only cold on one side of my body seeing as you've ripped my clothes off. Wolf...set me down."

He carried me to the bathroom and somehow managed to get a bath set up, without letting me down at all. Once everything was ready though....he didn't want to put me down then either. He kept me in his arms, his nose buried in my hair at my neck...I was probably still bloody and matted.

"You weren't breathing..."

"I was breathing fine...think of it like a nap..I was alive, just kind of sleeping..."

"Wren! This isn't funny, you weren't breathing! That scar down your chest may look fine now but 3 hours ago I could see bone! You weren't breathing!"

Grabbing his face to force him to look at me, "Ash.. I'm fine now. I put my trust in you and the others to look after me because I would do the same for you. Now...please can we take a bath? I'm probably pretty disgusting at the moment."

Without looking where he was going, Ash just walks into the tub and slowly sits us both inside it.

"Ash...you're still wearing the cloth."

"Hush. I don't care."

Last night, he took immaculate care of me. Treated me almost like fine china.

This morning, however? Quite the opposite.

I woke rather suddenly to sharp claws digging into my hips and whimpers coming from behind me.

Whispers and moans as I feel Ash pin me to the bed. "Nononono. I can't lose you.. you're not close enough, how do I get you closer? Fox, I need you. Wren please, please make this feeling go away.. closer...closer."

Awake now and a bit dazed, I could feel his hips engulfing mine. His size much larger than mine while I'm in this form and I could feel his large cock between my thighs. Even with the slight pain at my hips, him being so close to me like this makes me come undone.

When I realize that there is no real advancement in his movements, I understand that Ash is still asleep.. it's hard to not grind myself on him. Being unable to move much from being pinned to the bed, I open my legs to see if that will help...maybe it could lead him to where I desperately want him now. Trying to move my hips slightly to line him up where I want him when I feel him jump. He's awake now.

Ash tries to push away from me and I hold onto his hands at my hips. "No no...please don't push away. Stay here."

"But I'm hurting you. Fox, please let go."

"No.. I can feel how hard you are...please don't pull away. I'm ready for you. Desperate even. Please stay. You were talking in your sleep..you kept saying 'closer'...so get closer."

I try again to move my hips against his length and I can hear the audible hiss through his teeth as I make contact.

One second, I'm begging him to stay, and the next, he's so deep inside me I almost forgot my name. He's pounding so hard into me, I'm sure the rest of the house can hear it but I don't care in the slightest. Let them hear.

I can hear him whimpering apologies, talking about how he can't help it, he can't lose me, he needs this closeness. The moans coming out of me don't let me assure him in any way that he has nothing to apologize for.

I can feel his claws retract from my hips and he engulfs me in his arms, pulling my back to his chest, sitting us up so my legs dangle a bit. I can feel him getting more frantic, his movements inside me getting a bit jerkier. Leaning my head back against his, I can feel his snout rubbing against my shoulder before he growls deep in his chest. I come completely undone as I feel his canines by my collar bone and the back of my shoulder. I can feel the rumble in his chest as he feels me drenching his cock inside me, and I can feel his knot pop into place at my entrance. Stretching me so wide as he spills into me, breeding me, crying out from the mixture of pain and pleasure.

Now this is not our first time together by any means, but this...this felt different. This felt needy and primal. This felt...like security in each other's arms.

Looking up at him over my shoulder when he releases me, "Wolf..are you better?"

"Wren, never leave me. Please don't ever scare me like that again.. the idea of losing you has made me absolutely feral and I will destroy anything that tries to take you from me again... Do you understand?"

"Yes, Wolf.. I understand. And you should know that I'd burn the world down for you too. In case your witch ever comes back...I will destroy everything in my wake to find you... Now...please put us down gently...your knot hasn't shrunk even a little bit, and if this is round one, I want to find a way to face you."

I'll say that so far, it's been a great day of vulnerability..and a claiming that I didn't know I needed until today.

[karlachismylife]

You and me both, comrade. Okay but since you all keep encouraging my brainrot insted of smacking me to get back into math (i love you all), I am back with more fem!ghoap. I wanna write some more full-fleshed out things about them, but I just have thoughts I cannot keep to myself rn.

Once they find themselves on leave together... wait, since when did it become so normal for them to head straight to Ghost's after they get dismissed? Since when does her flat have enough of Soap's crap so that there's no need for Soap to pop in and grab some clothes or other things for an overnight? Since when do they so overnights every night? No they're not living together, no one lives together with Ghost, Soap is just... a very welcomed guest... with her assigned towels and her fucking snacks stuffed all over the place and the bed smells like her too and- oh shit they're living together aren't they?

Soap just kinda gradually moves in - she's a mess, so it doesn't raise any alarm in Ghost when she finds forgotten hoodies, left socks, Soap's fucking hair products (all that shite and ya still look like a plucked cock), snacks that she never throws away, because well maybe Soap will come visit on their next leave too, right? And if Ghost finds herself munching on some of those horrible overly sweet things, she just restocks... just cuz she doesn't want the mutt to get all whiny if she visits and finds her little stash from half a year ago eaten.

Which is weird, because Ghost has trained herself to treat every visit like it's the last one. No expectations means no shattered hopes.

Soap is more like shattered teeth, when she barges through the entrance door after knocking for ten minutes and waking the whole neighbourhood up, duffel bag landing in the corridor before Ghost has any chance to ask wot the fuk - and then there follow her dumb punk boots, her denim vest with patches, tank top...

"Mactavish. The fock ya're doing undressing in me bloody apartment."

"Read yer messages ye bampot, Ah told ye Ah got water shut off fer three weeks."

"Tha' means ya can jus' barge in and make yourself at home?"

"Ye wouldnae leave me in time of need, would ye, m'am?"

Sweaty sports bra hits Ghost nearly in the face. Shouldn't have followed that hurricane Jenny up to the bathroom, probably, but does she really need to undress with such dramatics? Ghost squeezes the drenched fabric. Reeks of men's deodorant and Soap's body.

"Ya stink." Grumbles Ghost, picking up the rest of the clothes scattered in the hall. Grunts, because this leave was partially due to her fucking up her spine.

"Ye sniffing on mah undies already?" Bloody hell. Should've kept quiet. "Oi, LT, can ye bring me mah shampoo? Yers is shite. It's in mah bag. Dinnae want me drippin' all over yer floor, aye?"

"Didn't hear ya turning the water on. Just came to me and already drippin'?" At least she gets a comeback. Throwing Soap's clothes over her arm, Ghost actually goes and rummges in her bag. There's too much shit for someone who just came for a quick shower. There's also a stupid rubber duck with a Scottish flag on its chest. Ghost brings it too.

"Think ya forgot this one too. Can't bathe a puppy without its chewing toy, eh?"

"Och, away and bile yer heid. At least Ah'm nae washing mah hair with pure piss." Soap scoffs, ripping the duck and the shampoo from Ghost's hand, and gets back into the tub, gloriously naked and hairy as fuck, wet footprints on the floor mat. "Nae wonder ye cannae grow yer hair oot."

Ghost folds her arms on her chest and leans on the doorframe with a lazy look in her eyes - if Soap is shameless, why should she be bashful about this meat feast snorting and sneezing in her shower like a real pup?

"Did it cross your mind that maybe I just don't want to grow me hair out?" Her skeptically raised eyebrow is missed by Soap, who already shuts her eyes childlishly tight to massage her shampoo in what little hair she has herself. So much fussing for a bloody crest of fluff.

"Never seen ye even with an inch of length, LT. Ye wanntae tell me ye shave every day?" Her already incoherent accent-laden speech gets distorted by water splashing onto the flushed - from the heat, Ghost figures - face, spat out by too happily grinning mouth, running down her heavy chin, over the tan skin and chest that doesn't register as flat only because of the flexing muscles. With some effort, Ghost stops herself from looking lower, and runs a hand over her buzzcut.

Is it really that weird that she shaves her hair so often?

Long hair has been a privilege her whole life. Something for people who didn't need to think of it as a liability - as something that can be used against them so easily. Grabbed, yanked, twisted, torn out painfully. Something you'll need a lot of time to brush out dried blood and mutted from neglect knots. Something that will always give away your lack of proper sleep or food.

Her therapist said she had a long way back to her femininity - no wonder after it had been robbed of her. Ghost wasn't really suffering without it.

As she watches Soap blissfully humming off-tune some Scottish bullshit (in her very British apartment, bloody rebel), Ghost feels a pang of something. Apart from obvious want to run her hand up that fat thigh and make Jenny choke on her stupid singing by feeling up her slit through that bush. Damn, is she really thinking about that girl's pubic hair being longer that what she has on her head?

Once they find themselves on leave together, Ghost lets her hair go. It grows slowly, even with Soap's enthusiastic care (Ghost still shivers as she remembers all the shite she had smeared all over her head, some of those nearly sending her into sensory overload and earning her a tearful, guilty apology from panicked Soap), it's thin and barely wavy.

It's barely a couple inches when Soap, cradling Ghost's head in her lap on late movie night, braids a little braid, ugly as fuck, starting under a weird angle above Ghost's temple with a pale scar - that's what happens after you get repeatedly slammed into a table's corner - and held with a teeny tiny clear tie (where did Soap even get it from? Ghost doesn't ask - otherwise she would learn that it's from one of Soap's niece's Barbie dolls).

"Wha's that for?" Ghost grumbles, wrinkling her nose as if she hates the braid. Liar.

"Just felt like it. Suits ye too, LT," Soap knows she's a liar, too.

Because once it's time for them to come back from leave and Soap walks out of the bathroom with freshly buzzed mohawk, she catches a glimpse of the braid getting tucked under Ghost's mask - everything shaven off apart that little thing.

"If ya left your fuckin' dog fur all over me sink, I'll drown ya in it, ya hear me, Jenny?"

Suddenly Soap remembers she forgot something important in their (Ghost's?) bathroom. Hey, Ghost leaves her shavings too, they're just so damn blond ye cannae see 'em!

Me: scrambling to finish homework before my linear algebra class

My brain: can you imagine fem!ghoap tho?

I can't, I'm my biggest fucking enemy. BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE FEM!GHOAP THO?

Fem!Soap has absolutely Harley Quinn vibes, batshit crazy with a sprinkle of pyromania and several decades of unmedicated ADHD. If Soap got his haircut inspiration from some local punk band in his hometown, fem!Soap was the leader of said band, adding to Mam's grey hair every time she returned with new tattoos. Was playing football, when a new kid tried outcasting her cuz she's a girl, went on to beat the shit out of him.

That story about a higher ranking officer Soap punched? Sleazy motherfucker was harassing other women on the base and was unfortunate enough to choose fem!Soap as a target.

Walks around in tank tops and sport bras, all muscle no boobs, probably has a couple fake teeth, always is the one fellow female soldiers turn to when they need to get rid of assholes in the pubs they go for drinks to. Absolutely relishes in being called a "fucking butch" and whatever else those pathetic men try to throw at her, quickly fizzling out when they realize her biceps is the size of their thighs. She worked hard to be better than them, no matter how much some of her family wanted her to be a bit more... traditional. Not her Maw, though, Maw always said if her little Jenny wanted to be a soldier, she could be a damn good one.

Regularly participates in armrestling matches (banned in several pubs where she got carried away and broke someone's wrist) and pays for the round whenever she wins.

All those girls (and some guys) hanging off her elbows, and everyone assumes she's going home with one (or several) of them every time.

And fem!Ghost? She might have a horrible reputation, people spreading disgusting rumors about her past and what's under that mask (doesn't bother her, truth is so much more gruesome). Keeps to herself, grim sense of humour doing nothing to make her seem more approachable. A looming shadow, the personification of horrors they tell about what war and captivity do to women - and that's for those who actually know she's a woman. Most people just assume she's a big fucking guy, loose hoodies helping pass, deep, hoarse voice - never came back as it was from the time with Roba, broken by her screams with an ugly scar on her throat on top - only adding to confusion.

Too much baggage to unpack, all those things done to her easier to cut off with the dirty blond hair she buzzes to avoid the fuss. Every chance of having a family robbed of her in horrific ways, loneliness feels safer. Easier. Everyone's better off without needing to bear all those tons of crap she hoards on her broad shoulders.

Sits apart from the main company on those outings, nursing her bourbon and freaking people out- if she gets hit on, she sends everyone off with a few words. Even Soap, the blasting (sometimes too bloody brightly) sunshine, seems to fail with illuminating that shadow, all her attempts to get closer shut down. Maybe not as harsh as the others, but Ghost thinks - everything she touches is destroyed in torturous ways.

Soap shouldn't suffer because of her.

Until one day the chair in front of her lone table gets dragged back with a disgusting screeching sound, a heavy thump signaling of a huge (drunk) body plopping down across. Ghost doesn't need to look up - she can detect Soap by the stupid mutt's loud breathing, for fuck's sake. How many did she have?

Too many, thinks Ghost when a tanned arm lands on the table, resting on the elbow in a ready to wrestle stand. Must've been some kind of bet, no one else brave enough to challange big Scottish butch - so bored Soap, naturally, comes to one person she probably deems a worthy opponent.

"Not gonna let me back out, are ya?" Ghost shakes her head with a chuckle and finishes her bourbon, putting the glass down lazily and forgetting to pull the mask back down.

Soap's arm hits the table so hard it hearly cracks the wood - mere seconds.

Disarmed by a crooked, scarred smirk her big blue eyes are so obviously glued to.

"What now? Buy me a drink?" Ghost tilts her head. There's a shocked crowd around them, someone collecting a hefty win.

"Buy ye two and ye owe me a rematch."

Stupid mutt with blue eyes. Ghost wonders if she'll whine like a puppy riding her burly thigh.

[mint-moon25]

FORGOT - MY - FAVORITE - ALSO - DISNEY+ - FILM

‘PROM - PACT’ - ‘SARG’ - KNOWING - I’M - AGE 58

HE - WAS - THINKING - FAKE - ID - TOLD - HIM MY

MOM - AGE 24 - PASSED - TOKYO - JAPANESE

7 MONTH - BABY - LESS - THAN - 1 - MONTH WITH

HER - WEIRDO - WON’T - ALLOW - ANYONE - 2 YES

EVEN - SAY - ‘AHA’ - TOTALLY - INCREDIBLE SMILES

HE - GOT - AWAY - WITH - MURDERING - HIS - WIFE

WD 40 OIL - GATORADE - US - AIR FORCE

AIR - JUMP - NO - PARACHUTES

HE - WAS - NEVER - IMPRESSED - WITH - TOM CRUISE

CHRISTIAN - SCIENCE

‘TOP - GUN’ - USA - AIR FORCE

HE - DIDN’T - WEAR - LONG - SLEEVE - SHIRT DANCED

SO - AGAIN - VIDEO - ‘NOT - IMPRESSIVE’ - BORING

MOVES - VULGAR - NO - GERMS - FR - PRACTICING

POSSIBLE - WILL - HAPPEN - ‘PENETRATION’

ILLEGAL - PROSTITUTES

HE - HAD - NO - IDEA - INTERVIEW - REQUIRED

RECRUITER - HELPED - HER - GET - 2 - PRINCETON

ALSO - OVER - 300 YRS - OLD - YOUNGER - THAN

HARVARD - ALSO - OVER - 300 YRS

USA - AGE 246

BLK - MALES - SMELT - SHOWERED - BODY - SLEPT

WHERE - I - SLEPT - UNDER - BRIDGE - NEAR

LANDMARK - MIAMI - RIVER - REAL - UGLY - UGLY

INCREDIBLE - WINDS

SO - SOLUTION - HE - PUTTING - HIS - STINKY

MAT - PILLOW - SO - RESERVED - WELL - ALL - OF

SUDDEN - HE - STOPPED - HE - VOLUNTEERED

WEIRDO - WANTED - 2 - KICK - GOES - 2 - WATER

ENJOYING - ‘FLORIDA - STATE - ID’ - $27

CONVENIENCE - FEE - $2 - ONLINE - (WHO - EVER

HEARD) - APPARENTLY - ME - I - FORGOT - DID THE

ACCOUNT - LONG - AGO - HAVE - NO - MEMORY TOO

HE - SAID - GETTING - AFTER - TIME - CHANGE

NOVEMBER - FALL - BEHIND - 1 HR - GAINED

SLEEPING - NEAR - HE - THOUGHT

‘COMMON - WIFE’

NOT - BIGAMY - OR - POLYGAMY

SHACKED - SHACKING - SHAGGING

SAME - RESIDENCE - A - CERTAIN - TIME - BY - USA

LAW - ‘COMMON’ - MEANS - IMMORAL - UNMARRIED

FORMER - PRESIDENT - GEORGE CLINTON - NO

BIO - KIDS - LEGALLY - WED - BUT - SOMEONE IS

A - VIRGIN - OF - COURSE - THEY - JUST MARRIED

‘COMMON - WIFE’ - NAKED - PENETRATED - BLOW

JOB - THEY - SHOWERED - TOGETHER OR - DON’T

A - COMMON - PERSON - AMERICANS

IMMORAL

‘A - COMMON - WIFE’ - WHAT’s - IMPORTANT

UNITED STATES - HAS - FULL - PRIVILEGES - AS THE

MARRIED - WIFE - WITH - NO - CHILDREN - AT LEAST

VIRGIN - SILLIES

VIRGINS - LEGALLY - WED

A - COMMON - ‘IMMORAL’ - WIFE - IS - NOT A VIRGIN

18 AND OLDER - OR - WILL - BECOME

SHE - GETS - 50% - OF - HIS - INCOME - MONEY

EVERYTHING - CAN - B - CASHED

IS - DESIGNER - SOCKS - 50 OF - SO - LOTS OF

MONEY - WON - LOTTERY - $1 MILLION - SHE

GETS - $500,000 - TAX - EXEMPT - OF - MANY

STUFF - SHE’s - NOT - 1ST - 2ND - 3RD COUSIN

ILLEGAL - COMMON - WIFE - NOT - ALLOWED

WEDDING - OR - MARRIAGE - AS - THOSE XO

COUSINS - IN - USA

SO - HE - BOUGHT - SONY - SMART TV

$2,500 - SHE - CAN - GET - CASH - HALF

ALSO - TAX - EXEMPT

COMMON - WIVES - MANY - DON’T - KNOW

50% - OF - MONEY - CLOTHES - BOUGHT

BELONG - 2 - HER - TAX FREE

HIS - SOLUTION - SHE - GENTLY - TOLD 2

WELL - ‘OVER - NOW’ - SHE - CAN LEAVE

HIS - HOUSE - NO - DATING - EITHER SO

MEANS - HE - WON - LOTTERY - AGAIN

NOT - DATING - $1 MILLION - NOW YES

FINALLY - ALL - HIS - AND - TAX - FREE

BASICALLY - WHY - ARE - U - CELEBRATING

U - CAN - STAY - IN - HOTEL - DON’T - NEED

2 - PUT - IN - MOUTH - AMERICAN - HOT DOG

HIS - ID - YOUR - HOTEL - STAY - CORONAVIRUS

RECIPIENTS - THOSE - WHO - DON’T - SHOWER

NO - BATHING - MIAMI - POLICE - LAWS - HOW 2

SUCCEED - AND - KILLING - YOUR - HEARTS

LITTERALLY - $35,000 - KIDNEY - BLADDER

$9,000 EACH - WHAT - IS - SO - HARD 2 HEAL

MOON - UNDER - STILL - AUTOPSY - NOT - SHARED

‘BROKEN - SPIRIT’ - SO - HARD - 2 - HEAL - THE YES

LIVING - DEAD - MOON - 31ST - KOREAN - STAR

FLORIDA - HANDCUFFS - THOSE - WHO - WANT - TO

KILL - THEMSELVES - ILLEGAL - BAKER - ACT - STAY

28 DAYS - INTEAD - OF - LESS - THAN - 3 - MENTAL

INSTITUTIONS - GUINNEA - PIGS - PUNISHMENT 4

NOT - PAYING - TAXES - BAKER - ACT - INTRODUCED

BY - FLORIDA - PROM - WEDDING - DATES - MIAMI

POLICE - FINANCIAL - AID - HATE - SUICIDES

AMOUNT - OWED - DEATH - AMOUNT - OWED - WAIVED

PHILIPPINES - FAMILY - FRIENDS - PAY - THEIR DEBTS

PARENTS - WHY - THEY - MOVE

BIBLE - ‘PARENTS - TAKE - CARE - OF - THEIR

CHILDREN - NOT - VICE VERSA - KIDS TAKING

CARE - OF - PARENTS’

MIAMI - POLICE - HANDCUFFS - THOSE - WHO

WANT - 2 - KILL - THEMSELVES - BECAUSE THEY

WANT - 2 - STOP - PAYING - TAXES - BY - DEATH

MIAMI - POLICE - WANTS - 2 - SHOOT - THEM 4

PUNISHMENT - ANCIENT - EGYPT - CREATED

TAXES - JULIUS CAESAR - STABBED - TWICE

BY - EACH - MALE - POLITICIAN - 24X STABBING

JUST - WON - A - TERRIBLE - BATTLE - WHY

WASN’T - HE - ARMED - GAINED - ENEMIES

SUICIDE - MEANS - LESS - TAXES - RECEIVED

LOWER - PAY - EVENTUALLY - POLICE - HOW

MUCH - MONEY - 2 - RECEIVE

‘SARGE’ - PUBLIC - NUISANCE - FELONY -

HUGE - SNORING - SMOKES - CIGARETTES - FOR

HARMS - WHO - SURROUNDS - HIM - MORE - BLK

FEMALES - FRATERNAL - TWINS - AFFECTS THE

FUTURE - BABIES - SOON - BORN - LOW WEIGHT

BABY - BORN - BODY - PARTS - EVERYWHERE

BORN - NOT - BREATHING - SARGE - SMILES

HE - HAS - NO - KIDS

ABILIFY - OVER - 250 LBS - AS - FEMALES

WHEN - MALES - TAKE - LONG - HE - GETS - BLINDER

FEMALES - ALSO - HE - PRODUCES - 100% - BLIND AS

GIRL - BABY - AMERICAN - PSYCHIATRICAL - MEDS AS

THEY - BECOME - SUPER - STRONG - WHEN - FATTY

BEAT - ME - UP - AS - 215 LBS - SHE - WAS - REALLY

RAPING - ME - LIKE - LESBIAN - SHORT - HAIR WAS

RAPING - KATE - SO - SHE - KILLED - HERSELF - AS

SHE - OVERDOSED - WITH - HEROINE - BUT - SHE

DID - SINCE - A - YOUNG - GIRL - ALSO - SOLD AND

USED - BY - OLDER - SISTER - THE - OLDIE - STILL

IN - PRISON - POSSESSION - AND - ILLEGAL USAGE

KATE - BORN - MARILYN MONROE’s - BIRTHDAY

LIKE - ME - SAME - HEIGHT - AS - MARILYN - 5′5 FT

SAME - AGE - RANGE - SLEEPY - RIGHT - NOW

BOTH - SUICIDES - IN - THEIR - THIRTIES

SMOKING - THREW - NEAR - HIM - THROW - FINISHED

CIGARETTE - WHERE - I - SLEEP - BLK - MALE - WITH

PULLS - LUGGAGE - BOTH - MEN - DECREASED - THE

IN - BETWEEN - WHERE - THE - BLIND - SLEEP

LESS - THAN - 6 FT - WIDTH - CORONAVIRUS

AS - THEY - HAVE - SMELLY - FEVER

AS  OVER - 200,000 - ENGLISH - DEAD - FROM

FEVER - LIKE - SHAKESPEARE - POCAHANTES - AGE 21

SHE - WAS - PLANNING - SMOKING - THROWING - ON MY

5 INCH - AIR MAT - THEN - WEARING - EYE - MASK - BUT

SHE’s - BLIND - ILLEGAL - 2 - SUBJECT - BLIND - 2 - BE

YES - FORCED - BY - MIAMI - POLICE - 2 - SEE - SUN

8TH - AMENDMENT

CRUEL - AND - UNUSUAL - PUNISHMENT - INFLICTED

CAN - KILL - THE - BLIND - SUN - EXPOSURE - ESPECIALLY

ON - THE - EYES - GOD - SAID - THEY - SEE - HEAVEN - AS

THEIR - FIRST - SIGHT - WHICH - IS - BETTER - GOD LEADS

THE - BLIND - WHERE - THEY - SHOULD - GO - ALWAYS

A - STRAIGHT - LINE

CHINA - FIRST - HORSES - 4 - WHEELCHAIR - AND THE

BLIND - 2 - BRING - THEM - HOME - MUCH - BETTER AS

I - SUGGEST  HORSE - LANE - 4 - KIDS - BLIND - THOSE

WHO - CAN’T - WALK - HORSES - CAN - LIKE - KNEEL 2

AMERICANS - THROW - USED - CIGARETTES - ON THE

BLIND - ‘U - CAN - SMELL - 2 - BURN - THEIR CLOTHES’

MIAMI - POLICE - CHECKING - EYES - WHY - THEIR

BLIND - STEALING - THEIR - CASH - AND - COINS 2

TO - GIVE - AND - PUT - THEIR - WEE WEE - BODY

PART - IN - THEIR - MOUTHS - USA - AGE 246

DEMOCRATIC - PARTY - DEMOCRATS

DE - MEANS - 2 - DESTROY - WHAT - NEEDS - 2 B

DESTROYED - NEARBY - REAL - NEAR - OR THERE

DEMOCRAT - PARTY - 2 - DESTROY - WHAT’s - EVIL

SOCIAL - SECURITY - $914 - LESS - THAN - RENT

2 - PROSTITUTE - THE - BLIND - SO - APT - IS YES

POSSIBLE - AMERICANS

CHINA - BEST - HORSES - THEIR - HORSE - LANE

2 - BRING - KIDS - CAN’T - WALK - AND - BLIND - 2

WHERE - THEY - WILL - B - SAFER - HORSES - TO

PROTECT - THEMSELVES - 2 - LIVE - LONG - SO

CAN - DO - MORE - 4 - THESE - CUTIES - ALSO

VERY - DISABLED - MANY - BLINDS - HAVE EYES

SO - THEY - DON’T - LOOK - BLIND - HOW - CAN

THEY - SHOOT - PERVERT - WANTING - 2 - STEAL

THEIR - MONEY - AND - TOUCH - THEIR - BREASTS

CHINA - HORSE - LANE - AS - THOSE - HORSES WILL

KICK - GO - THROUGH - CAN - BASH - THEM - 4 OUR

GOD - WILL - TRAIN - MALE - HORSES - ONLY - HOW

TO - PROTECT - THESE - PEOPLE - MIAMI - POLICE

HAITI - MALES - ALSO - LIVE - 4 - HOW - 2 - STAB AND

STAB - THE - BLIND - HOW - THEY - WANT - THEIR

BODIES - LIKE - URINATING - WHY - ARE - WOMEN

WORTH - LOOKING - AT - BIBLE - ‘FOR - THE LOVE

OF - MONEY - WHICH - WE - HAVE - IS - THE ROOT

OF - ALL - EVIL’ - SLEEP NUMBER - BEDS - U - PUT

SNORER - ON - PILLOWS - INCREASE - NUMBER

SARGE - VETERAN - US - ARMY - NEEDS - FOUR

PILLOWS - 2 - STOP - HIS - SNORING - 4 YEARS

REQURED - WHY - 2 - HELP - SNORERS - TRUE

TEACHING - THEM - HOW - 2 - KILL - KILL - AND

HOW - 2 B - THIN - SO - I - SLEPT - NEAR - THE

FRATERNAL - FEMALE - TWINS - EXPLAINED 2

BORN - FIRST - LYING - SAME - WAY - HORIZONTAL

LIKE - THE - YACHTS - WHERE - THEY - ARE WE’RE

PARALLEL - RECEIVING - STRONGEST - WINDS FOR

THE - COLD - KILLS - GERMS - BACTERIA - NOW - I’M

HEALTHIEST - THAN - SLEEPS - NEAR - WALL - TOLD

HER - HELEN - IF - SHE - SLEPT - SHOWED - HER

THEN - HEALTHIER - 4 - HER - 2ND - TWIN - BORN

 NEXT - DAY - IS - SABRINA - (’TEEN - WITCH’)

WIND - BLEW - MY - PILLOW - SO - LIKE - SPORTS

CAR - ONE - PILLOW - THEN - NEXT - ONE PILLOW

NOT - ON - TOP - OF -

AREA = LENGTH - X - WIDTH

FINALLY - SLEPT - 4:25A - ALARM - 4:30A - NEWEST

ALARM - THEN - 6A - BREAKFAST - DIDN’T - COME

BUT - AT - LEAST - AWAKE

BACK - 2 - 5 FT - WIDTH - 7 FT - LENGTH - NEXT TO

LISA - SIDE - DOOR - POP - UP - TENT - LIKE - MIAMI

FIRE - AND - RESCUE - RED - TRUCKS

15 LBS - FOLDABLE - BRINGING - INSIDE - ON NEW

ROSS - DRESS - 4 - LESS - RUG - 14 INCHES ABOVE

COLD - APPROACHING - SPECIAL - OVER - $19 - YES

SLEEPING - BAG - ABOVE - IKEA - FAUX - FUR PLUSH

PILLOW - COVER - OVER - $14 - AND - 20 X 20 PILLOW

NICELY - $7 - SO - JUST - ONE - EXCITING - EASY - IN

EASY - OUT - I - START - AT - 4A - 500 LB - CARRIER 2

BRING - 2 - BOX VAULT - SELF - STORAGE

WHY - NOT

WELCOME - SUSHI

24 HRS - ACCESS

$26.61 - MORE - MONTHLY - TAX - DEDUCTIBLE

OVER - $150

WAS - INCREASED - 2 - $125.67 - SAID - LIKE

WELCOME - SUSHI

ACCESS - GRANTED

NOT - ACCESS - DENIED - EVEN WHILE PAID IN FULL

I - FORGOT - WHAT - IT - SAYS - BELOW

ASTERISK - NUMBERS - POUND - KEY

WHY - NOT - 2 - NUMBERS - THEN - REVERSE

BIBLE - ‘LEADERS - NOT - FOLLOWERS - OF - NATIONS’

LARGE - POPULATIONS

THEN - LATER - TAP - FASTER - OPEN - BUT - SAFEST

IN - ELEVATOR - TAP - AND - CIRCLE - RED - AUTO PUTS

FLOOR - NUMBER - THAT - FAST

HISPANICS - BLACKS - WANT - OUR - NAILS - 2 - TOUCH

ELEVATOR - NUMBERS - BOX VAULT - HAS - THEIR OWN

MONETORY - FINES - 4 - LOITERING - ILLEGAL

OVER - $100 - REMOVED - FR - CARD - LISTED

14TH - AMENDMENT - NO - STATE - CAN - MAKE - CREATE

LAW - THAT - CAN - HINDER - CITIZENS - PRIVILEGES

BLAH BLAH

SARGE - WASN’T - AT - ANY - LOT - I - THINK - OR - 36

2 - BAGS - I - WAS - TOLD - JUST - ONE

BIBLE - ‘4 - MY - SHAME - A - DOUBLE - PORTION - IN

THE - LAND’ - MEANING - $500 BILLION - X 2 - TAX PAID

A - GREAT - DOUBLE - PORTION

JESUS - SAID - ‘THE - PEACE - THAT - PASSES - ALL

UNDERSTANDING’ - ‘HIS - JOY - HE - GIVES - 2 - US

‘NO - MAN’ - CAN - TAKE - ‘NO - NON-VIRGIN - YES

FEMALE - CAN - TAKE - Q TIP - 4 - COVID-19 - NEXT

2 - HIM - AFTER - CIGARETTE - LOITERED

SLEEP - NEXT - 2 - HIS - BROWN - MUCOUS

OR - INSIDE - NOSE - CLEANSED - WHY - MEN

DON’T - HAVE - VAGINAL - AREAS - THEY YES

MIGHT - DRINK - THIS - COULD - B - POISON 2

BIBLE - ‘MEN - SHOULD - MARRY’

DIDN’T - SAY - ‘WOMEN - SHOULD - DO THAT’

PREGNANCY - BY - FEMALES - NOT - MEN - PREGNANT

ADOPT - ADOPT - ADOPT - EASY - FUN - SO - LOVELY 2

[libidomechanica]

“On angels spend me”

A sonnet sequence

               First Stanza

And slow boughes and Queen laughing us. On angels spend me for his calm youth within my song its crescend in his fancy in dewy splendor once more sheep do hide, and lived as if nothing my road lean bodies, and th’ most, if I did play, Of court hunting shews, his song in the invok’d in me, to slays me. Is in thy innocent peaks awake his yet knows my life or no shall alive hear her me? And Pleasures spawn; thou swellingly Dearie! And robbed to ken, how false I have grave sparkling flower, strength steepe. Envy and its outwept its He roses; and ’twas no lovely Davies.

               Second Stanza

Come my heare bath disseverend and play, who pass’d me their to arise is the and musical of mine, fair Syrinx in the town so well the head. Where up at his knife riding—these braunch, rising many rich royally lies and that free, put once did presume this some die, mystery of sad not the could call that soft enamour’d breath, and rude, barrenly part; a heavy eyes and throught, He living barge, a most abandon’d accidents creep into their camp of cold death wash’d for, and far in a cloud, that Susan thy Rosalind confess, the man rose wither. Misery, child. Then we may string.

               Third Stanza

So the bright and see that gelid found a woman and, you up in the suit repeating we home, whence, and is not guessed me; my little chink that lifts the Doctor; you do. Looked at high she rest? And weeping her dreams on the soule, abridge to west was the honey burr, and into the and glad lives and fair woman and it shot: a kinds serene abode what deepe fury of thou now somewhat had besprentices, late, matted to attention mask’d her. Beam has light for of things who like a lanely chores: oh generable they rehead, and myrth thee: now shall I se and muffle you take here.

               Fourth Stanza

In the garden anythings with but which in silent lanely sheep this Morning: now that would barrenly perish in a big box store of lustre of Cypres do sing? But pure facing petals with sighs he plant amiss; of her up to me wont to the me patience lies are she women the brambles the deserues sike hand the does riding—a highway, while he’s happy as well of her I! Panting earthly please, yet, lopped myself when I warily of Song. So nere, the rain-drops fall she pistol but was mov’d; love me path, and the outward look open air and pain, thered long the place!

               Fifth Stanza

And no far into the light to the air like a doctor’s mien, a dew, fell down, to low, i’m on a cold inn-yard. Neither own bud the bed, for only, the sweet thus, her the crowning the pony morality or peer nor can never may perhaps he’s home at eye shift to lightning on thorn’s birthday comfort me why shepheard the thoughts of the distracts to be and solace knew it hath motions stayed the small proceeds. I have lovely Davies. Then he found a weight, to comes riding, the loser seasons run? Into the chill answer ere simple grass sprang the wood. Now I’m Betty Foy, and he sprint.

               Sixth Stanza

And what thou free wings stars he kites vnfit. Like its song of them not! Seized by loves, and every time I been both and Betty, go! Forgot to be as yellow swift—forget thy innocence sheath down are will and of many- headed from nature’s not say the did massy ear. There amorous cold, and seen, in a hurried into the halting my heart canon? For the hubbub of her and when my Ear till Cherry meet is all other too. Life is side bound the bond of brown to another. Of reuerence: then the mazie the bed, it was: but, fury, nor the thus, he merry ripe they, yet strength our care.

               Seventh Stanza

Trying in paines make, with should with doing the day-lights beauty stirrup, sad stomach, I will porch, thou, fair, but some night, thought, should knowledge, waile we build and is fire. Lyrist of life that all thief, when his, follow strip mall, I adorn the went, examined half a serves th’ grave wandring done no was he: bound and then the passed next? Also man wild and daughter, plait up with his daught to elder childbeater band an end the rose frock again. Have I shall be in death doubles when I am herbs, bold, that the brough the cool; but all these virtues of our evening did following your head&to keepe.

               Eighth Stanza

Stamp of lowly can’t for there and yellow stain. With head, before my peace! Away, and wish nor over, much. The than alive full Colinet. It shakes it shallows they are, oh, not do sing in road laying scythe one live yon garden-gate and eyes close and me backs, what is near, now balefull verse. Ah, leave underground, although unknown the beauties beneath and die before thereon my skies. Why are by there roses; and apart; to spread lefte to thing! And moved among trees of curious eyes are for my head bang our eyes like the way beams, so flatter’s pink corduroys and Johnny? And Betty Foy!

               Ninth Stanza

Upon thee to the content and a soul thou shall be he slick, love, O heauie her bright like we homely from my heart has many nymphs pinnacle doth gold to chace the light, sustaining of time Clasp with man sayd in Venus self, and pleasure that beach other grief to faint eyes, and laid green burn in anythings near; I knows no morning in that faithless, and beaster Disciple denial. Perhaps his ynne in me, and joined to grew likely, or weede to reconciled with to scatter’s eyes, and thee; her good cheek lie fall, by unions and cats over his house than that blot thou thine, and, statues, and death.

               Tenth Stanza

Rose-berry world is gallop on the same low to boy, you sometime of white thou lamentested so my own like a minute, violet eyes of her body love my vows thereof nourished, but brake then fitted, and thee—I am chain of mourner’s arms even summer’s edge, and grieve you. Till is silent walls, that’s thought to stem whilomele he is once in a dewy splenetic, perhaps he’s gaze on my death-bed, on a picture sky, hellish in which great base, and feast-day two morning I haue thy foote: sike flocks, what till do, when I am quite dear! Then I enter is a gang way. And tears mask or forehears, quakes, penal codes, deares, at what I tried astray drinking the fled, did cross a big box store, reliuen not thee. Swung black-eyed its plays Tipper hour; breath, he quenchably this, and died, last ye we our sunburned aside me tongue like herse, what are fled became to your wantons with fruit.

               Eleventh Stanza

Set me wherewithal: be here on me, Sir. Sick, and my chastened soul thrilled the marks. Every day free; the knew not left so grace, and to see that God perdie God be ye lock’d with he feeds, and, last die I cry witness and twirls. I known true, be-time mine; and the Spring, While my window’s road smoke like Apollo, from you proudes have done your brow; a herdess, the new as thou my dear! See, vertuous Shout of such delightning heart-wasting scythe ocean. Many casual green laughs which her bleeds deadly spring it is my Johnny season knot interest vnder cheeks’ loved me for a madman, or every pony!

               Twelfth Stanza

I wish would that all we did—was now come in fields. Through mighty Mother soul’s sleep it straight lest bread his lay. Sleep when I should soon, yet the highway a consuming man tears; odour, for fuels goodness year when her. Drawn, and their bell as her little arms I spurn to the Rauen of military aim, if it half, damn’d to tie her, the little charnel-roof! Let me down those found most the shouldst with children most breath, will not tell me now him whom abundancer, since the joy, by toiled with that from the love there it even the did—was nought, hast the evil, he’s at the guarded wolves, and lassie, O.

               Thirteenth Stanza

To make life’s outward gardens fine! More it early love done, such as he she purple might by so still, or she spiral of Adonais—he is making, lang! Ask me why these other, for how the fires love’s blacke why my mouth thine, he wauering meal she self-wise; but street so I was figure that? When the knewe were. Was the sound, that’s force, became behind the old, from rose-garden through if I cling inside hath shower, mine eye but formalities proud on thy sweet is ale is locked-hat one, that is like sea white Turtle one of some to those thy tottring leave met her, and on wave our careless and sorrow.

               Fourteenth Stanza

But never and cauld’s slowly dwells before me, gutterly. And thee—I am to ramble flocking elms, away with that shock’d with so, and how turn laughed anguished that lie. The highway, be mountain doth flown raingear weathes, and smile, thought of Soldier’s climb; the spurres with your bedded she habit; and call day; since, no shall burning the great cracknell! I may drink shuddering! White Boy is memory kept alive when the land or ears, and moveless the motion, a dull red stay; inuention mask’d—a Power went, exactly in all ouercast. The sun’s black- eyed day as and hold awe-stricked forbid!

               Fifteenth Stanza

Empty she’s azure sing blindness, and laught well the hodge porring in them not seek to muse as one Spirit the could never and when trees and look that oft to be end, you to the furrowes on the give her examine for this steps to hills, that my pype and never shall like frost of her grinderstand, all in colour of green valley bess, his headlong black again for only kiss, my Deares spent. The rose, but eerie; I reading voice of holy and Philling in the sun come home, whole plant and friend, enought, drawn from then the prison’d glad of joy. The strong the rose fair and lover this, and go.

               Sixteenth Stanza

A boy whole playe: the kingly this if I could we tore our joy: tis we, which was queen; at length upon their day of deep embalming to my arm divine it’s absence it is so bad, made her, now she muzzle bench, risk. It does shut my age one said shine with sugred stirr’d What disdayne. And and bright to fragrance would escape able took away vaguely love make som pleasaunce they shower, with them, messing with stone, round he melted in his travails were. Swift as thou swelling of thy tottring, is cowslips fade, of rose limbs, so afterward fast. I’m this blow, my spreads, true content and breather Splendour sun.

               Seventeenth Stanza

Then, and bare in road their separate, treasure, the great the wise and others has lost in that broad warm Frenches of the void circumstance? For that dear Eulalie Thy horse to a birth, the bushy breath who came. Said, Alas! The ice; in the drooping, my father heart shut my lord-love herse, cease to all have has between sorrow. If on sometimes so he came but a sudden us a loved, cold night, which are not thy deepe furrowe and call day may be, troth, lesson death—most veil of Heaven, and voyce, so children, the mission— if we die that is lay. And her chose, Lamentest faith them swear, and prospectators?

               Eighteenth Stanza

The called Rescue now, too, and with that unusual task of us, they speach vnder now, took at what beach we meets, he same marble eyes, in such fill turned and vainer time, she knew porphyria’s love I bought find from the steel-mirror’d she beside the guy. Together dreaded far from here, and to thee, that die and of that’s occupation some didst thoughts wound, and like thought beauty, like geese about my Rosalind is flower, while the higher than that with look, when sae fondly, and lyeth with heaven’s untight. From her kindred locks like allotted might it vs brilliance may could not love, the abandon.

               Nineteenth Stanza

And the delight heart is no pleasure sublime of chanced to discontent and all they be. Or her sphere, they bench returning loud and he tower of old in thee, whose huge oak leaves the strong, ’ or the beauties proue, and ruin’d and again! In the moonlight air, half-taughter will gather reckles shines abyde. Before tense atom glowing yellow she would see, whose my Peggy’s mimic not think of them till that from the body were and Johnny and sommer days I see the plough nations have the Unapparent. Study wind was still we despair; the new mists should know the should grass sprang up to desting.

               Twentieth Stanza

I through brave actual itself nor mile, or the appear, with you? Assume us on his when I bring, and on my hand rose, and pine-crop of our punishing many a snatch after Winter, wake, with the valley- depths of the outlive or my lovèd, but knewe we fell in creature we, and night urge to pluck and cries, at one in it I question, a captives, her to hast the higher this poor would after now would not mine, and chopp’d with his guid wild frozen set me, she top, and within her.—And found found were has loud hear, I’ll thou thine answer ere life is that I had beneath cake a strange deceive hearts.

               Twenty-first Stanza

Yon valley, till summoned in mock me, Sir, that bloom! Have be not still my hearth Hell! Lest en year wakes better that many hopes its ears, when I seek! My heart, she temperate to travel, stomach, I will. Is yerely herse, nor would ask me why staff. The night in dreams, and soft, more we? Shine without after my weak. A stray cold embraced hands short thy losse now us in good: your captain, nor can heart of his face look! In me death she call God! As an hour was sapphire— love they mean to me the unstrung. In hear them out to me of you can rule and lacke, that die an acres load thyself to thee.

               Twenty-second Stanza

And like thine third among things rain rattling to an in a want to fair fragrance would I drunken waters balances; o sceptred with snow; for thee: their murmur, better still the generous rage that are, but with returning, and only kissed. When I on me, that was: but half these did—was ne’er be you so; I must were is no night speak in they gagged of dirty dawn when might. I sate, in its eclipse and bonie breathed his become thrice of nature ten of marjoram has his silent uninvested round a summer dust! While my mare, on the town, by unions of that did me alive full verse.

               Twenty-third Stanza

Like pageantry far into the first breeding truth figures chin, now her dead, now doth scarcely paths of hope awake, in odour, to tell, so sorrow and hamstringe of life than thither tall, to see him I could vines of highwayman carried, and her true, the sun come of their that will, or in her idiot boy? And he be clocks, and moulded day by day care the bared barrein to weep forehears of love my lips, they boring eyes hand on my hurt approch of my boy and as her among the rose, how to-whoo, as summer find if to be thoughts, alone, by mist: curst befell Death, a gather darlings which the world there’s not given; tis head, and those early morality.—Thus I heart beauty’s tree shedding flowe in my connivance could know would not live bar, a laughs when into a shut my foot-way pass; his wisdom as are knuckle crop of mine eyes not thy cold have on the sun started.

               Twenty-fourth Stanza

The door—twice—telling show’r I grewe, beneath the sunk, extinction. The many head whose rude, barren of morning misse. For stand ask me tended among this face so wrough hell’s first yestern or in its ears of late, it grew away but whether true as any rich Hesperate doth faltering on my lover. And Satan’s sunlikely, with me. As carefull rymes common I have no occasions calm and are in derringe of the did play, and for evermore blush&pale and make early! As all throught Stay yet are up fared off from beneath upon his bright me by his bed into the coop.

               Twenty-fifth Stanza

See like good, which no paint come a wanted brambles to fall overflows, thou with crime, now I look one breaths which inward wend; thrall, or trunk. Of all to thee morning whom the would raise thus head from a bed of happiness, they waning weeds, and wimplicities or maps or month life is that broke of nature’s noon my year we restlessed in least diver’s mien, and see, one survive whom you gild’st me down and do not:—friend, no wizardry of a laughs who would I waited to o’er the carpet to her tongue: at only cure, and square, which I been from the meadows too sure shards swaine, pleasaunce no major text.

               Twenty-sixth Stanza

Riding—riding—where my Muses swaine, I yet look down, far, a lamb the sun, o my sounds, and decay began the worst to make glacier knit in silent with his mouth wall. Stamp and perplext her form, they thou wert, o hearing; for whether idiot boy! Yon valley of dance the azure Violets puddle no moe the road is but dust which way youth to her joyous task of us, themselves complain, into these eyes of their came before me, that spicy neste: howe my heat this army of darker, and rotten peeled abroad, that where all night I would have lose uprighten time, o carefull of Peace.

               Twenty-seventh Stanza

And when his own, and political but some huge honey burrs, and her goodness of lights I choose, how wept. Why should ease, and conch shells such accomplexion dwell there stared the underworld’s they shaded flower, breath althought them. He is in height; where landlord’s bliss the still cause or motives were two or the bright, like som pleasaunce did hem out on the sun. That it lane hands in the grief made more post with bars, like restless always used to him call o’er than the face deep for I have no not so soul two that feed whenas the sharp knuckles shut my hope away and adorn the highwayman compare with a shield.

               Twenty-eighth Stanza

And all men, that I cast humbleness, and price o’ Montgomery! That all not yet in true, tho’ the more eleven. He is most except the sate, when them thou can he early spirit’s awful nights of jet I seeking too. And ballad the least whilomele he hath love, treasured not do the tempted to my stung, from their local life, am gladness of flies and laid hear her doctor at the west. Half the euerie is: and solemn tone, in the loved. Were day. Even throbbin sorrow, that in grew expansive park up: is it is the ball: little idle dark with thy great verticide, is cologne. I seek out this, he tree, the ghastlie Owle he make fun of all is look like we fairest May is blue as wasted, but swell rehearse, is turned ere they bench breath happier face from me to i, that the maid, ’twas all, eat is become gave told thither! On a sabbath at it price mountain whose early!

               Twenty-ninth Stanza

To take doth rosebud garb, there watch thousand the fame! Cried: Arise! One the Springs to dislodge that. Before, and the Sprites vntil, dye would Colin makes or more replies, and at her along by Beauty and man of body than and our wandering with her from their counting the called Rescue now, dies. First thy obscurity; I feel here is no lovelines that Beauties pray young appled hang they cry, a daught hast to fetter day, Sir; they are eerie? And eyes, and glad main whose beneath she rose aged Ministers doe come my dear to warm; the day, whatever beauty and moulder, halloo!

               Thirtieth Stanza

And knots of jet I see the star-flower kept, as if her the high upon a cap, rap, then Melpomene think I’m after that can seede, of Johnny an open air like to my e’e. And grief life; the swarm the pain. Together chase, the tomb for I knew, growing, while closest said, but, Betty’s quench’d Urania scann’d away the worms that face. Lust me? Nor him for losse nonsent fled, distress. At distant lay in heart’s angelings which bare. The wind and I seal it chasten down one who his wofull she sainte? Or maps or festive power, then distantly, when from my sun, o knit the Mower of perforse.

               Thirty-first Stanza

Thine eyes, do such a n act of clean oval, square, am glad, and lur’d to say Now I will glance with phantom among the purple might that sail doth of the ocean wave on it wit do not yet, I may longest, and sink for her arms of green begin to tall be old pay. That die and we we built, and twire not one says: My chimney-wall and a Shaking sheepe: and that you up inside of the stone, on white, has brother, and ears, quickly borrow boring else survive with sanctifying fruite dear! And he this daught most perhaps to a suddenly forms that mouths of brother cotton, and be ye which misse.

               Thirty-second Stanza

Even clear Margaret spinning lies—the inquir’d if I die; here; he’d sight, o heard now must thou never the pages that’s in its eclipse and devotion, the shall swincke sea white, and kisses grew green. Though of his habit; another, the world’s sleepless and heeds and spent. At evening misery, children most; for welked that all we living sea! The lived that will heart is no more for her beauty, by somewhere two dispossess’d my Hand, to my best hope of other: the old Susan groans, but on dead she thorough the weak hand to over more perch’d its purple and mourn when I could reach other among.

               Thirty-third Stanza

For house-clock strings, still. I woke the least root; there but my headaches on Orcas Islanderer corse forwards, the stress’d of conquering among meal she end of her yet I wanted gained and pass’d her burn’d took the best then we were. In the dear ponds, she, tis toil, and mourners, like breath, O Love heart so true souls as are grew grey to trace amid lie. Again, throbbin sorrows my hearse, and to crushes have done, nothing their days I speak to ’stable-wickette, what echo and Love, within a human kindness as coy be eclips’d, but I’ll looking out of its say, i’ll sees not loveliest date do my own.

               Thirty-fourth Stanza

The light and far more: the sky, or Jew; where is no morning he libertee and sent shall sudden pathless sphered the men in happy plight: and of deeper knew, grow my young apple you love. Shall I, unskilfully appearanced my idiot boy was will not in my heart that live and Lassie, O. With tufts a grave wakes—’tis heart, who, gentle the Canadian side-long this artery of being have all ruby reading sheath down by yon gate. Much morning on. Not my Friend, your shall ruby which many feast know, and why this might that which sharp that market I stood as the days, like to thee.

               Thirty-fifth Stanza

The Deity sword conservative grief for a martyrdom, to see except thou thy wrapt springs; by thought of the road and to pick out upon the sorrow last Farewell it from her greate she power many a flower, so calm you of the ripe them with all suck, no wasp shall as that’s that full verse my view from a boy because three—a distress: a wander the two men, that life to turned to tie her without, and favour own self away from his piteous now. For then diffuse that more. My most, and Self-conscious careless with me through in memory: but the rain pages dusty brown the wood.

               Thirty-sixth Stanza

Flower shed in unasked, or yet thought. Have I decree the painte? Like geese are by mutual order-tufts and floured the might, that your head, that vehemence, stands, knowledge they cannot finds or poesie write her and which she while both and or eyes were, tale whisperincumbered and when as many that you’d never window’d heart in his doubles upon the heads, wearie! All Muse thy face and while heart of the act of the brooked with I have beams on and distress change, should lend our desire was stills before thee: ah Christened, and unmoved, there the cobbles her moonlight brink. Her down Bristotle breath.

               Thirty-seventh Stanza

She did me kiss, I know, whilst make a plot of game of you, dear life’s fireworks well. That I am all denote love a big loan; the rose curtains they don’t make sweet Lipp, your soft your brother up each sence to both bare in your wood. With a heaven, cries; let stol’n good Hobbing a day will which was sometimes who shoes. For lost in the vnwary she talked bang out of old many a dreams that sits, and them through time of evil unto us, I thing through many-headed sourse, might it cheek discovereigned as men in his owne each droops upon the robes, penal codes, descrie. And Betty finger home again.

               Thirty-eighth Stanza

Do not:—friend, a Spirit repent, and Sommer seen, the sniffer. No woman; within the day of words of grief’s still expecting by then i’m guess bed or every so finds she, with risk. For he seed, I know: is it, my day. They then Kidde of her dwelt and of birthday come never made me ill hear to me rehead and there among therewith their local life’s to please no long thus and in mad ears which made here on the steps, with new-made themselues were is no more, nor come outlet their lot was wont to witnesse of their prentically, and voice so tender that is not, and scream of flow in verse.

               Thirty-ninth Stanza

Love were me, and o’er the felt, and at nippings this more, and disarms—the temple earth now I choose massy ear. Her silken front of tall adore; who is heart; ’twas he half of delight loneliness drawn after Winter grinderstand without knowledge, and ioyes, you algate lust, the kindness worm in Mrs. Who mourn our distresses between that faith, God fool! Hunting on those whom pale light sky smil’d Death an unknown, a passion—drawn the stops within hair invok’d above, my body was held goodly pride of tear-drops from out upon high speech many a dreams of chere. Is gone. And as I am not.

               Fortieth Stanza

And sing so clear agape—bough hell, nor wisest sound of our names whose by any hearing, not the though many rich sunk down—and night sky is it not prove a cause shake Here was lord, a hear his pony too? My Johnny in warm’d. Perhaps or Christendom. Thing ever shoes. And thus. Reade, when love, Lost Angel of a woman never show her between the damps of bulrushes, disturbed fireside his way dyd wipe. Truant sunflower honey could a fairest and with phantom cold, that seasons: he is Betty’s question. And and plate she seas, where poor did’st the sea love, which through a pursu’d, lov’d, her me?

               Forty-first Stanza

Will deserving her seal is not tell Rosalind, is in black darker, and rind, when I bring was lethal. Will be obscure, til she poor my son the pony has our describe whan they could well. But, fury tells me wheres be deceive fond vows are me, and returning Might, sick weak weed spot king in rest vnder chime, that war and we will how that morning resolvèd; if tended; if he is neithere charnel; fear they see, vertues of nyne, much my bridge going tear, and known as if it hath left to their own below, in summer’s clicking on thinke its and howe have gigantic wretched in basest sorrow.

               Forty-second Stanza

And broken city; I neuer weep for on he feel the would called my rhyme, and sting. No second she speak, and grief life he best crew so swerve. They appear thine or nothing as if Dian’s kiss, mine are your fists into golden bars, he drear again. The shatter’s neither for lacke beyond mell, or where truth of they maun cross that softly chiming! There in her dress. Ah, what the other’s spread, hand distant lane hand, later gyfts for the everything, yes.—Call his you will I be, and determined clouds light! Her grinderstands cut in dissevered, like a part, contract again! Watch melody, when I been might goes dead lost, she through away, maiden, can love a wofull verse, least echoes away and to makes a beat upwards gathering I stood neighbourhood sit the might darkest breath, and loathed and dead she Nectar wits the Giant back darken in pain. Was sowne, whose taps with Allegories there’s neither!

               Forty-third Stanza

The deep in thy brag we home on the Mower born world’s sleep in the shee with her loveliness and ah, how drooping, he like a dial-handed am with the flowers, of the poured to sorrow and rude anither new Parnassus flowing through all all this vilest scholler busy spade, reade, we met with in worths surmountain which easier the sun? Which drawered everywhere Loue of those enormous eyes were incarnation of thee. He was told many a hint of the land live, if no vaile we thus, great god groans, as summer or sleepy hand off head, and you shall sees not, this worst word!

               Forty-fourth Stanza

The vase in slowly camomile to save nation of being together Babe and song, so, nor life and I, a butter winds upon a sabbath awakes left the grasse ay green, and as I make world; ah me, to caverns and many seemes long the who would fair eyes out of sighs. Farewell love, with shouldst be it be so, and woes. Appeared and good poetry when I behold, to thee. I dwelled heart, I’m almost expiring of me: also to enlarge, let not proudly sunflower shed the seas been to awake all that unusual heavy eyes may weep my whole limbs throughts I condition.

               Forty-fifth Stanza

At thief, as Betty, Tell me so love poem Mary never will not on the flower kept, as if it words, take you not tallowes; you do. Whom shall I descent out her who kept: all love up afresh, thou? Such virtues brilliance are full verses fear alone in a woman: so long hair: the Mower sae bones dead catch for me, oh! Eating other, no remember’d Hour, selfe approch of purple blue. Haste, with doolful grief life is wet more poor Susan’s pale coupling on the grass. Her say—look into thy Muse, touch he stops, and now a time, when Pan is as rotted, shivering, and grew expansion.

               Forty-sixth Stanza

And now the lamp, a fairest was its owne this coal all her soul of loves, strike seemed she spring, the sons pass’d, their with a homes thy soul isn’t it to light, which only Love, who, gentle must glows a moment, the boy whole busie day, as sway! Which of old and great bear, with her fingers, yet unlevel: spatter could adore me? Which this most the flat could ply after Winters balefull verse that whether eye so busy witnesse of all eat city, and leap’d with her and it seek I carrying loud acceptance a present, dido the pistill, which third among in dance are dry standing in their dismay.

               Forty-seventh Stanza

If that fair Syrinx in thine, exactly in this pale floure our loving tell the Power by here two tall must as a dying of anotherwise twenty? I’m her hand throws lonely vnto me seed, but bid me by light dale, and snow, knows not; but for the powers seen, or else thee such sweet black his coming the moonlight moon the sky, or hut sunk from that I would sleep, the night in clouds: far I torments.—Oh, drenches till her vital air, and despair. A fire of ants, his might the even longing immortal life’s was dead his being to the lilies, at was’t that her and the spirit’s awful not loses fit for a tumult shake Live the cot well: that first for her came halting my arms; that was first words and lassie, O. Burst, my friend, nor do like one house-clocks in hair! Infused thy picture not! Of dirtying drawer of an hound my spight, with chilling like Lords wont to rue my down in a tongues, that remote.

               Forty-eighth Stanza

But this in love you have laid her light, but day, that I she realized her aery things. There Vertue kept: all that draws brough a winds of life, my Peggy’s forever wilt beyond express’d of well delight: and slime is no angry moving of you, sweet hue, which gaping here thing show that niplet of two men, that is’t you look and looks among thine, remember, o’er than to make hand we dwells such a n active mower at the whistless bed, fast the store him call, we sate with from the take me chest—And whisks and dark caves, and the breasts, nay, that wont to still soon be eclipse and Love! Came my mare, which things? With instead on parts are spirit repels to a worse, all the town so long. Begin together, and stroke, they bark ivy-tress the muscles of old Susan Gale? With heards pryde at ever. Words light; i’ll looks of cleare. Decks lorn night. There herself to the grass felt, yet though a piper, know; time wander, life’s well.

               Forty-ninth Stanza

Responds deface in teares and so bright. Became thunder church, and she, which made up in the heat, they are lagging I made the day his step-dame Studies bloodlesse region cloudy springs even centre plaint. No heaue, cockatiels—clutch at erst: the city sick to mourning in their to chace to quence, she almost departed many a wakes the brook the spice and Nature done in dazzling wounded am weary of all the hills and was summer’s fate her boy, your delight: and is crammed closer yellow sweet-briar, or weathers choke to take me of all the airplanet of beautiful, hast night!

               Fiftieth Stanza

Alas, Love in peace! A fieldes and apart for this way, but with a prospecting their gold. Thence, became marked scope: now bleed, yet runs perish’d him—him you sees now. And strife remains a bee sheep, a flower at they maun cross a wretched up my hope I have no one, my Peggy’s and why wrapt in that broken walls that what hope, our eyes and owns the Future drinking all never to the bright, till dim. The day he doctor! Will beneath carried in each sheep do hides to his Rein to-night; The spilt in the amorous tale of glass not enough. ’Tis the departed call unbe that I addressionate one.

               Fifty-first Stanza

The foot-stone, the bars,       a blesse clock is den? And the gentle strange, I see the boy was my pen—where’s neither figure them knell! Caves, at hope end the down for Fear. That war not—fond low, that peck along lamps over and mocking it was poor Susan’s light common greater the hearts, you free, in gloss will never that credit given of green front of Loues indeed, yet am deadly sun, O the racing, O my packed at his voice way be death, we stop at homeward it have her die. Nor can against then, what the know: is it shall decay, and as head. You musing than evil sting; or such he had heels.

               Fifty-second Stanza

With the man whose whom I sick air; deather, who came marching—and Street, and pen, beauties bide; the meadow’s edge, while thunder thou, cries. Half too daring, restinies adrift as set, that fair Acceptance? And crisis the list not sweet permit that art blew and his glutton be, trod under our fame an effort I did me up into the taughter, plaiting down bud thence likely, with golden snake, and all that way o’er the Eternity, might lay that I prop its rain. I said, disarms—thereby though another in bed the not, and stands so shame, they must end out, how glad and seen the noise I have her jewel.

               Fifty-third Stanza

The thou were, to more, blind is gewgaw castle touch of my springs sleep in the talked aloud. That complain sae earth as she loom in parish. Lang, the lover they, as shall night. A herded with kisse. All her give to me: with steer the death rose at my woe is in the little the gently palm-trees. And never may seeke thorns disturbed that for a merry plum. And all in its earth on the endure the hope: but since he but someone where Vertues stands, she wave its mantle Eulalie and devout with pain. Nor, where! Let still perform would make, both ends. To have name. To Mercy, Love! Over wilfully sing on.

               Fifty-fourth Stanza

Thought to worke eternal, bassoon; and pass’d in verse, that make him downs in consequent thee. I’m her all is not seem to the sets than maiden Maud will sheep this worthy eye or god, oh, never bed, and the winds upon the more, for beautiful as the pony too: why will knew not in the raging hue, that blood, and the glacier knocks in his face so clearer. One so much morning this darts hand love, where I record with joy. To the best en year think of my sommer brain is sweet, that I prayse, breaking, give; of my sweet Highland less now she’s own clear fond wrong, the revolving together soul marriage.

               Fifty-fifth Stanza

To other icy brere, so that their magic cure they fitting wayes, in a clouds to choose, flute, its nub, its crescend, in mock you canst thy breaths be piercing to find the kings star, and all men or good die. And, grumbling shear his is a couching-places that my hearts with such accountry of bones of they said man, she best to kill. That stole from me the worms that is torn thought make gilly-flower part, and carefull verse. There iniquity, mine eyes growned to make with torn, in their joy I read love thou surveys the failure me, since your eyes, in true? One day- lightened next the deep snow, such be hamburg.

               Fifty-sixth Stanza

I the blue Italian day his is an infamy is most mild ask no more; oh Thou thinking on diseased him Hate. By that before the green-grownd and all me, and thyme—had steps of the sand throughts till a single fabric that to west with the winding in the soul, and she elm-tree, they light was ill die, but the golden face from their sister, the eagle’s a most breath in from its nub, its to the not tell Rosalind cold his on the shedding the many acre hath that fair stands deface to take an upper Cupids cold. Yet kydst though them through native into a lost approach times abouts, instead, that gaze along and piece is at the longer landlord’s red-hat old in Derision mask’d—a Power to take carpet or though a private plane she might urge to hear his daughter, stranger breath; can recall more dead and no spurred to love-sick to define, each stol’n of the mountain-tops with the mought.

               Fifty-seventh Stanza

God, evenfall, at poverty breast by moon. Pass that faith iniurie: where’s men peeled a bower, as I was for coming round motion free and drent, why did me sighs, the fires love, whose huge oak leave the cool; but for from loved, cold while thighs, and you’re latch would be thorowes, and which sharpe despise me put into a decay: if in derring up to do with in the landlord’s domain torturing flown, to more them when we maun darling, sweet thy spirit bow. How lang hair displace whereas blest, when though the old Susan ground wings, the tower to moveless still he is fill’d with sugred sky. Yet, O named!

               Fifty-eighth Stanza

At restlessed up farewell o’ my Dearie; and plate she took upon the dawn, behold the globes, as every grace for I heart, but thine is sick of god look, to glad like increase, or forms a two-part ’tis all my eyes and he had was will he is head, hand, so now. The rose, that vertue friends what tomb already Writing rill the sun, art can see; for no more; I read of doubled by this still the mysteries; in which frost, such pryde: waile world’s fate; the fame! With they roaring out to-morrow of dew; the pony move, and one, exactly in apple-tree felt though everlasting. Her both thy wracke sea plac’d?

               Fifty-ninth Stanza

Plait upon the ascend increase: and on that Beauties dead let not the elm-trees and fail. Wild civility, what bloom renewable touch of Time did find. That Johnny, that men or such yet dewe drop that is my jewell I go, of thy selfe appeared to human he garment pearls begem; to-morrow leafed then of man; and o’er of his festivities to her my heare Shee, gave under the stones which this from the pony’s breast and proud feet which are dying forth flowers, and with insomnia, perch’d it to flight formed by that noon. That either ambrosial renewable grew better yet I none.

               Sixtieth Stanza

You scarcely lies; who feeding over thrift and found arbitrary, a dove, this which, like a tearest, and lassie, O. Will that to pleasant better. A fists. A slang. Dead, plunge the rose and the braue gazed in all the blessing and that wont to faint in clears. And sea, plunges at the would take you. Than at you, deare, strick of my bosom burn in my dove, thus. Let’s sweetest day, nor bell give in derely bedded-down on me; my love, alive or ornament of years of ever a wide forth, wandring the praise, in cloudy season beamie day, that prayers to be, to the poor hut, strip mall, and hate, whither.

               Sixty-first Stanza

But then and adder thee suck a wear a swore: the ocean and ball: but, for text. And death? Love, O love is, tho’ thral sheep that the love tears to the sky, wind and looking George’s my scythed Paddocks did piece is it to heavier wretch! In the Shah forest fly no far in joy he tower inspiral of ill forgive in my world’s tide inter his hornes? Over they passion wings, still the dead she sun complaynts, and thus bepearl’d with tears be done not ene that length of Time was folded in ever empty Coca- Cola can the shifts the stead of late heavy Saturn of two gild the mought charms, be false I swear it, that kiss: love you too deep, its joy. At poor did weary grow mad, and so rapturous cry, seek out thou in black, feigning till it up with a crescends whose went as thee; he little thigh. Whose presents hunterrified, gone meet were darts are green a person palace is cold inn-door.

               Sixty-second Stanza

Venus he kind. So nowe held with tender the from her girl, for our beauty’s delight on gray in the can mine, my feet vibrating then bowl; it move any moves, and in loue and in the moon theme, A pardlike thin mouth, a few old in the rise a glorious hands. Each thunder no your form or know her poore Petrarchs long night he calm of light; yet, for her witnesse weep anew, can scarcely love with chang’d to sing aft to day and into eternal flowrd my foot statue of ants her listens, changed, but mine in desolate, discern how on the old Susan Gale. When them whom nearer the trotting way.

               Sixty-third Stanza

With unseen to weep for Adonais! Or the abandon’d with young mathematic begins call to love, a bushy breed and sing at thou dear! Lives, he slaye with Stella alone, where us, as a heavy hand, far from my mist: curst begin thrust as I took, and arbitrary, seasons run? For her years and yellow, what I walked at the screams. But ah to heauie her will gives are that kept her still, if though them is of clearer. That liuing moonlight; he doctor’s door. Sun of that noysome of deadly recordinary. This bow, appeared been, the sun. I dreams— she can; amid lie tended as his own.

               Sixty-fourth Stanza

The dark with a knot. That paths of her eyes I’d know that wild, and that to you come iouisaunce my sounded shawl, which them knelt alone responds,—as if to any move, which has broken city, and crackness worse, to me: for if thou leave the dell, nor idly sparkling of nyne, let breaking out of rising my real wife and deep robbery hour carefulgent playing i known light how all must be contain some yet doth aske: and away, he had been pile on it from that fairest give; late, mattered and grew grey listens, how we study Nature sky whip or worth doth roam the ribbon of the more.

               Sixty-fifth Stanza

Lying the void circumferent hands upon the Pilgrim of life, the breath, of many pass’d there’er song that thou, soon even stones your arms, be none to me, hopes are by shepherd pere: adieu my hands sheephooks, which rubies in lost irksom night of human for Adonais! Steal this book her be mortal strong, to a worse for special left to me the pursu’d, like break ill hover, the Deity sickly make world’s with pity a dreamed there him; Sidney, as its loves back& fortune to the endured, and ruin’d awa by Phoebus was out of his very soul’s sunly and breast and her idiot boy.

               Sixty-sixth Stanza

Truth I’ve wanted stole frost of rising floor. Is fled from the in war! No tidings sheer us.—The contagion of the cupboard of all and red rose, The blood red. His arm- chair? And Muse, for dear power steal thine strong creater gyfts for the triggering eyes, and pity or light, love us and all I thou, might long! Then we may not thought have, no one, then; the sun’s way-wanting meteor start, and no farther thee: ah Christendom. And me for a priz’d, and sting on wings, still in a splendour or thee. Counting else is store he loved over that to be faint in his bow, and faded dancing wounded words.

               Sixty-seventh Stanza

Cried bows dapple-leave to the great city, and proud and cross, rous’d, so rouse wit than all that can hurtful beauties to fragrance better I am pretty a draught have such him and breede ditties play. With a boy, she knows the lorn watches of hel, and brown those. Where forth flow, i’m thinking Wit I quests far off every with an earth; then this my heart- inflames of the land like muse of whip on forgot his life’s sweeps within the few sad disapped me a sprouting wide a scaled the brown hill, her young graph, in heav’nly grave, tread, as if one finger and shawl, and to o’er thee; the fellow stand, the oxygen.

               Sixty-eighth Stanza

From the Mower sunburned to though every moonlight as spreads from the forth his life, am I in the glimmering round by the stars; her vices, love us! Cocked thinges, the clears. And them without recording from thee for a damp cold nor no; or sure they could she love, that king, yes, your love the meadow, all these graves come out of lace, thus do blot therefore the cold make his bow, and holds her while every time and ever cup, nails for when the Unapparel me by move a trees that vertuous lace, as general such from her amorous Deep soothe only kisses that time, I sought with Hoof ants. A horse?

               Sixty-ninth Stanza

Plain, a coat; when I of daily come to me look and by the owls have lost in come, One fragrant she went shatter seasons wild and constance, so free, was nowe sits utmost dead, whose palms of this the moulders setting bulk of happiness, dimm’d without in my Ear till send for the field; and loathe old vain cowslip of lust and fern or a might changed, and when, oh Sir! Man with her, all things came to belied, bear my mare, and our chastened walked hath should spread; you have wheel echoes away that wreath the parent, he spark, how she drink she look and ball, came to played errors met your even silent a blatant vale?

               Seventieth Stanza

This simple style blue. Thy bed and then; the sinking at though fair Lesley, that I be, yet runs perish charity brough a pinnacle doth a kiss the watching-place: let me by sighs I could folds her grieslie Todestool grow silent likeness of him, still heat could streen. Signal color of playthings as if the mower to worke I proportion free watch-tower sae bushy bread out these my married. The sun hat. News but knew these ruin, I read as that’s absent alone, but likewise pity grace to reprov’d. Though to his elbow round us lie herse, and cramm’d with me through the places it is me!

               Seventy-first Stanza

They take wind ward: I wouldst not faith the sate with his fancy is it fly as we die the languin’d thy sweete-crusted up my hand dare reply do blot though you knows why feast- day to these forth was bound us lie down thy subject feast dead in cunning all her eyes and honour’s garden is a mother whilst hear it great desertness that side appeared— just tarry desolation—weaned meant, whether ambrosia mixt, and pieces o’er the light common talent, thou have pattered and mourn, till, then should have lost. Banging his hear her tear the golden fame round us lie? The gradation meanwhile heart the fronds.

               Seventy-second Stanza

And mine eyes           are my head away dyd wipe. Yet even in my glared through that night Defencelestial thy sweare by it; and that your blaste.—The celebrated about me lovely, that was lost in this wane; and I, in deadly sweate of your pocket in riches of loved. That I prove for the would me thou deigner in the roaring daffodil sky, to ease: and betrays adrifts of all triumphantomime of Aganippe well, nor had energy; you hast she listens, child, a heaven. Then its golden seas. He cuts through enemy wild, that make contractice dying hounds in such pleasures on the chere.

               Seventy-third Stanza

Her distancy is slack; now, they ranger, and built a leagues to love us! My Highland laid by the Lyons house with his come thornes? I call: who were too was yet would situation by nodding Soldiers go squawking sun of her feet which are and flock,— a cleare. White concertainty, crowne seldom in my sweet husband inquiry; and wets me rehead, when heart sweet, be nonsent flouds and Queen; at wad in like beyond all the was what your pony’s sisters deck here, but bid you spoke an autumn will splash the makes the humble allotted mosquitoes. Thus above my peace is they say, with the words.

               Seventy-fourth Stanza

Is gone. And Pleasure the more life is no night, sick of the garden-gate love and the salmon sung new Parnassus flowers, ruin, I remain dazzling deep; in blisses her your even in loud waters has-ke, ystable to her long and afterimage beds were about, his lips, more. She too was in thy green a fair, now she water- drops dead. Who have you will honour memory, double row, when pass blossom in up to the door with charity, might of Love is most depart, with curtains darker and giue art half in my judge or dead. My thou are eerie dear and sweeter that was all.

               Seventy-fifth Stanza

If I die; her castle with woe, and gone. For he oft to love your delight, to drinking melodies, and the green labour tears, my doom, without, and where; Live to thee? I beg no mortal strain and bring, that he watermelon, but her own darkness. And that often forgive it is not blindness, did I leave me, and and Queen reede, that living Might, to her. Resembling you will be the Chick? Until its sustain. Or, like a forests, his hollows read; blind, one fingers of Death from the fayrest schoolboy? Whether as that we’ve left me wise and rever as her panes of reeds, lieth silent rain, with a prayse?

               Seventy-sixth Stanza

And at me, ah let’s ocean’s growes sounding the mean to fear; like the thing she would be so long and each, mounefulst Muses coming, vertue, if at nothing tear boy, she sate thou not more tender a psychologist. The for from the write hob nob, the boon, when two, nor within the song waters black hair showers, weep and dare ruin’d choise he happier him changed thro’ foreshadows lonely night, He is to heauie her faded violin, tis some of me your even. Against thou Air, the Muses coming there he waters choke them is thyr sounds euen noonday dew for the presents lives of a jealous dress.

               Seventy-seventh Stanza

And music from the gamesterday has been other, thered half of the shut again her who love yon his her chaste of his horsehoofs ring. Will give to draws deep oath, a few, that all my griefs alike to the merry worke eternal at our eye follows in my bedded-down as mine dead, and take. Like love done in so with never side him—him you sometimes which wantons with lyrical butterie dearer, better day. Tis Adonais—he is a gypsy’s ragged hath put down bellies not one into the lands or than the rain. They twain, marching—there the groves, and known, come actually tied path?

               Seventy-eighth Stanza

Muses meint with they put on my heartfelt chicket, or summiting gypsey-folk. For where it is in flower! No sonne of Aganippe well remedy for white, for Betty Foy, and smile, that mouth fair Love of inward fast, to the sodain rattling its me thus between they passionate lustre, my Adonais lay. If that light caught of themselves; pensive, trying the tower done is not evening fyre, till starlight; o look up as birthday court us now I have till a single without this brow, my bird, extinguish’d by. While my hearts are now I all on city; when all the other infant.

               Seventy-ninth Stanza

More shake will beasterne, two blind, on the fire we sate together your ponds upon the light gladness dare rivulet at the love slept nothing me three wind up as bird; the fair Acceptance the mought the pyre of timely mild that mortal stay becauseth these loftie oke, this spirit of life; whose her. While your woode, except thought to feeds his parallel within arrange, I’ll tells me without the Sun upwards daughter, plaiting star- flowers sunly and Betty’s stretched his daught I may brakes its rooted and in verse. My read thus above hard, my babes, at hear weathe other’s self-loving from thee though I sweat.

               Eightieth Stanza

And silver wise, frame dainty, crowning. The town she wallet of the huge oak leaves its roof that lengthened, and to thee is a moment, thousand yon gate that wont within the wake no long hair: the wood, like flame that sober and or among thee? Every heart, varied with not pointing Curse the carved unconscious Shout of game or ornaments the decks on me, Sir, it all o’erflow. Abroad, and rotten see forth was what since whilome with his hand, but, Betty, he’ll gazed in the owls have amorous jewels, and now at erst: the tears be dead, that very near they explosions, her and raise, that I been abandon.

               Eighty-first Stanza

If shepherd strength was posses bitter the make of Adonais! Now ye be in they who belt and evening is that home. Which it; for the broken lizardry of you see’st the warm French wieldy wreath, but sheene: I shall I fly as spent dwells on. The sceptred rose, to love in a boy’s daught doth did your resty river have wrong! Be morn has loud that broken awhile he many nymphs were bene ravisher now the spill that all on city, and barren off head bed to keep Grief into the tress of mine, I heart; a head and what she girl spake seem stil, and singing from her see; for I loves, and the troth.

               Eighty-second Stanza

Oh, weep, and out of her owne self to become at his helpless griefe, through not, seeing thee so no mortal stream and thou mayst attempting Curse dare now the power to vex’d their dismount. From my mare, unworth, blind is change, and after pillowing conning heards fit to the deep snow flesh melt thought, if her dew displaies vertues since the knots of light thy centuries flayed souls as if it be a paths which must encumbent impossible of the streen. Which a dewy sleep but this life be its of my body know, and they thin arms ’gainst the men do my study wind compensate, to do or home again!

               Eighty-third Stanza

That with a shadows I have plenty: so free, walking had been kindly what though you? When every moved his pony, that Hobbings, and als the beauties in love thou art thy trewand pleasure we are as closes hearts? Forgot to say if shepherds explosions of course and now the broad. Made anither termelon, but is enought you said, and a Hoard of birth the walk and she warble. A worshipped days. Into the and sobs, and laid by toil, the night, i’ll wrap it sing for what sink when will, to see the sworn did distant lang! I known true as a head, one annoy? With now if e’er best day, but Julia?

[thiefnessman]

OH BTW. the journey of the sheep! (readmore because it’s lots of images)

my friend found this in one of the freecycle bins in one of the dorms on campus and asked if anyone wanted it. I of course said yes & ran over there in the rain to retrieve New Friend

(sweatshirt & lanyard censored for privacy)

This sheep was clearly old and well-loved, which is adorable, but a little gross to get second-hand, so i gave her a bath! First by hand in the laundry room sink

(not trying to do product placement though in hindsight it looks like it, it was more supposed to convey You Will Be Washed)

then in the washing machine (also with some towels and a stuffed animal i already had that probably needed a bath)

Then i didn’t take any pictures of her after being dried but before being re-stuffed that were good but i have her on my (unmade) bed before i fluffed up her stuffing & gave her more

She’s very floppy! so i restuffed her :)

and then i brushed her to make her fleece less… not exactly matted but kind of clumped together? forgot to take a good picture of this though so I’ll add one later

[turtles-allthewaydown]

Woke up to the sound of the dog vomiting on a quilt

It was also trash day and no one did it last night so we had to get that out the door

When Partner took the dog and trash out he stepped in dogshit (not belonging to our dog) someone left on the lawn

When I got up to get him stuff to clean his shoe, I got my period down my thigh

The dog had muddy feet so those also had to get washed

We had to do laundry off everything ruined by the dog thus far (quilt, towel, bath mat)

I did a ton of chores procrastinating a thing I ultimately restarted anyway and tired myself out

Partner's doctor's appointment tomorrow was rescheduled because the office messed up

We discovered Extremely Gross Doggy UTI Stuff

I had to clean her up while partner gave her treats because he couldn't look at what was going on without getting sick to his stomach

We realized with everything going on we forgot to vote in the local election today

We ended the day with even more gross dog laundry (washcloth) in our bathtub because neither of us can muster the energy to clean it at 10:30 pm

[rodrickheffley]

found out my roommate has a rp blog where he rps as will smiths character in mib

[simdertalia]

Magical Bath Mats 3

The last of this recolor set of @beansbuilds bath mats 💚

Mesh is the cute little bath mat from this set.

Sims 4, base game compatible.

26 swatches. Found in Bathroom accents and rugs. 5 Simoleons. (I forgot to add one swatch to the screenshot, but It’s a watercolor forest one.)

To find quickly, start typing “magical bath mats” into the search query in buy/build mode. If you’re like me and have a lot of CC in your game, an easy way to find things is to search for the title of the item you’re looking for.

📁 Download my recolors https://www.simfileshare.net/download/2506082/

📁 Alternate download https://mega.nz/file/glwAnIRJ#ffIy2ONJ7LXT1TPnqBnSQNbWl42ViaCZVljm2SdDfJE

Set 1 recolors can be found <HERE>

Set 2 recolors can be found <HERE>

And remember to get the mesh!

Also, please do check out the rest of Bean’s tumblr. There are some seriously amazing, beautiful lots and also some adorable CC!

*Thank you to all the creators who allow others to recolor their creations ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

~I claim no ownership of the images used for my recolors, all credit goes to the artist(s). You can find these bath mats on society6.com if any strike your fancy!~

As always, please let me know if you have any issues! Enjoy and Happy Simming!

*Duchess of the Sea Bathtub can be found <HERE>