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writing-intheundercroft · 8 months

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Your Ivy Grows // House of Gaunt

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Summary: Ominis Gaunt cannot see, but he can feel. He can feel the tall thickets of grass outside of his Aunt Noctua's house, now his for the summer. He can feel the sand down by the beach, the water of the tide pools, the overgrown ivy in Noctua's beloved garden. Most importantly, he can feel the gentle brush of his house guest's hand against his as they take their daily walk. He fears that he may feel much, much more for his new house guest.

Word Count: 6,745

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, oral sex F!receiving, vaginal sex NSFW, MDNI

“Are you ready?”

Ominis wasn’t ready to answer her question quite yet. He squeezed his eyes tight, taking in a deep breath. He hoped they wouldn’t be gone for long, but he couldn’t fight the twisting feeling deep down in his stomach. Something told him no matter how their trip to London went, things might not be the same upon their return. So, Ominis took his time memorizing the house in its current state. He wanted to remember everything as it was–the fresh, salty sea air, the earthy smell of the garden wafting in the breeze. Afternoons spent basking in sunlight, laying in the lush grass while his companion trimmed the ivy.

Of all the things Ominis would miss, it would be the freedom the old seaside manor provided the young couple that he would long for the most.

Not long after Marvolo’s howler had destroyed itself, a thestral drawn carriage bearing the Gaunt family crest arrived. Golly had pointed out the carriage in the front drive of the house, anxiously drumming her hands against neck. Of course, Ominis could not see them, nor could his houseguest. Sebastian, giving a weary sigh, confirmed the arrival of the winged beasts. The house immediately descended into chaos. Golly, still trembling, made her way upstairs to pack their trunks. His houseguest trailed behind her, trying to appease the house-elf’s worries.

Sebastian and Ominis stood in the study, listening to the commotion upstairs.

“Can’t put it off any longer,” Sebastian said quietly. “You’re going to ask him for her hand, aren’t you?”

“It’s our only option.” Ominis put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I…I want to thank you for trying.”

“I won’t stop,” Sebastian warned him. “There’s got to be another way.”

“While I admire your tenacity, Sebastian, I’m not sure we have time for your plan.” Ominis sighed.

His only solution was to beg his brother for her hand in marriage, and if that failed…

No, Ominis thought. He wouldn’t even dream of it.

Within the hour, Golly had strapped in their trunks, she and Sebastian watching the couple anxiously as they departed the front drive. The thestrals picked up their pace, cantering down the gravel drive until they reached a high enough speed to take flight. Ominis’s hand flew down to hers as the carriage rocked, squeezing it tightly.

“Taking off is always the worst part.” he said sheepishly, patting his brow.

She sidled up to him, a curl brushing his cheek. “I figured it would be.” she mused. “How long until we’re in London?”

“Give or take an hour or two,” Ominis sighed. “And while I’d love to spend the entire time holding you,” he said, slipping a finger under her chin, “we should probably get a few things straight.”

“Like what?” she asked, tilting her head.

Ominis chewed the inside of his cheek. He let his finger trail upwards, the pad of his thumb brushing over her lips. He groaned when she parted them, taking a deep sigh. “For starters, we probably shouldn’t do that around my brother. Anywhere in the house, really. We shouldn’t even be near one another.”

Even without his wand out, he could sense her deflate, pulling away from him. “We could be sneaky–”

“The word doesn’t exist at my brother’s house.” Ominis grumbled.

“But the night of the ball–” she argued, Ominis pressing another finger to her lips.

“While a fond memory, it was a lapse in judgment. We’re lucky there were plenty of distractions the night of the ball, and we nearly got caught then.” he reminded her. “Marvolo will have his eyes on us when it’s just family in the house.”

He could feel the way her shoulders bowled over. “Fine,” she grumbled. “A week without touching you. I think we’ll survive.”

“I can’t say the same for myself.” Ominis admitted.

She chuckled quietly, which brought some relief to him. “What else should I be mindful of?” she asked.

Ominis sighed. “You should be wary of my sisters. They’re normally lingering about the house, and they always have a trick up their sleeves.”

“Sisters.” she said slowly. “What are they like?”

Ominis rolled his eyes, leaning his chin into his knuckles. “Cedrella, Dorcas, and Apolline.” he drawled. “The worst. When they’re not gossiping about their friends, they’re complaining about their husbands. I can’t blame them, they’re all cretins, but still.”

“Oh come on,” she argued. “Your sisters can’t be so awful.”

Ominis hardened his jaw. “Cedrella never cared much for me in the first place–she and Marvolo were already off at Hogwarts by the time I was born. The other two…well, I would’ve thought we had a close relationship, until they cast the cruciatus curse on me as a child.” he said bitterly.

“Oh.” she whispered, her voice small and quiet. “I…I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t have, I didn’t tell you.” Ominis said gently. “They’re why I detest the unforgivable curses, and the dark arts in general.”

“So, I shouldn’t trust your sisters.” She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Ominis fiddled with his wand. “Don’t trust my sisters,” he echoed.

“Who else will be there?” she asked.

“I doubt anyone else,” Ominis grumbled. “Most of the time my parents stay at the manor. My father is harmless enough at this point–he’s been senile for years. My mother mostly stays with him, so you won’t have to worry about her.”

“What of Marvolo’s wife?”

Ominis shrugged. “My sister-in-law doesn’t particularly enjoy his company, so she stays at the manor with my parents while Marvolo has his fun.” The word came out viciously. “I’m sure one of his many mistresses will be there.”

“I wonder what they’re like,” she mumbled.

“A rotating door of ladies,” Ominis rolled his eyes. “Except for his favorite, Araminta Malfoy. She’s the one you saw at the ball–his most regular companion. They were lovers when they were in school.”

“Why didn’t he marry her?” she asked.

“I was very young, so I don’t remember it exactly,” Ominis admitted. “There was a terrible argument over it, though. I think there was a rumor that one of her cousins had gone soft, and they’d thought he was a squib. Father was worried it might dilute our bloodline, so he forced Marvolo to marry a Lestrange instead.”

She was quiet for a moment; Ominis could almost hear the gears ticking in her head as she thought.

“She must really love him.” she mused. “To put up with it.”

Ominis rolled his eyes, tilting his head against the cool glass. “I doubt either of them are all that emotional. It’s hard to imagine my brother feeling anything at all, really.”

“I’m not talking about your brother. I know firsthand that he’s deficient in that department. But imagine being someone’s mistress for that long. Gods, I’d hate it. Never fully belonging to someone the way you want to.” she said wistfully. “Think I’d rather be put out of my misery than live half a life, you know?”

Ominis paused, ruminating over her sentiment. He never wanted to feel any sympathy towards his brother or his mistress. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

She didn’t say anything else; his companion merely tangled her fingers with his, her head leaning against his shoulder. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her hair.

“We would never be like that, would we?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Never.” Ominis declared. The carriage dipped as the thestrals adjusted in the air; his companion slid even closer to him, hugging him closely.

“I’ll have to be indifferent towards you when we’re there. At least until I can get Marvolo alone to ask him.” Ominis swallowed thickly at the thought. “But I just want you to know that I don’t mean it. The way I act, the disinterest…you know I could never feel that way towards you.” Ominis reassured her.

“I know.” She murmured, pressing a longing kiss against the corner of his mouth. “I know.”

Somehow, that didn’t reassure him.

Ominis had always hated the London house. He’d never spent much time there as a child; his parents were embarrassed to have their blind son out around their society friends, punting him off to Noctua instead. By the time Ominis was old enough to hold his own at society events, Marvolo had taken over the house as his main residence. He’d filled the Gaunt’s London abode with his collection of magical artifacts, and allowed his pet snakes to roam freely.

While the luxurious furnishings and decor were enough to impress wizarding society, Ominis knew better. The rugs were worn and fraying, artwork borrowed or stolen. Thanks to Marvolo’s many raucous social gatherings, the carpets were damp and smelled of stale firewhiskey.

“I don’t remember it looking like this during the ball,” his companion whispered. She trailed behind him, gingerly slipping past the cluttered hallway.

“Marvolo is quite talented at hiding away the mess he’s made,” Ominis grunted. “I dare not ask how he’s paid for half of these artifacts. He has all the house-elves work overtime to spruce the place up in time for a party.”

It was a short trek to the ballroom; Marvolo sat atop his makeshift throne, his mistress Araminta seated at his feet like she had been at the ball. Ominis could sense the presence of his sisters, scattered around the room. Cedrella was sitting next to the window, paying them no attention whatsoever, while Dorcas and Apolline quietly sewed. As expected, none of their husbands were present.

“My dear baby brother,” Marvolo mused, tapping his chin. “Finally well enough to travel. I do hope our friend here was of some help during your illness.”

“Yes,” Ominis feigned. “She was a great help.”

“Come forward, girl.” Marvolo barked.

Ominis awkwardly stepped to the side, his houseguest tiptoeing forward.

“You look very nice in the clothes I bought you.” Marvolo said haughtily. “It appears you do have a lovely shape, after all. Doesn’t she, Araminta?”

“She does,” Araminta declared in her syrupy sweet voice. “Very pretty.”

Ominis gritted his teeth, clenching a fist behind his back.

“Thank you, I suppose.” she muttered, feet pattering backwards.

“I hope you weren’t too bored,” Marvolo droned on, “stuck with Ominis. Although it can’t have been that bad–you look well recovered, brother.” There was a hint of suspicion to his voice, but it melted away as a house elf tiptoed into the room.

“Tea is prepared, sir.” the house-elf squeaked. “And Binky will start working on scrubbing the hallways down right away.”

“Take care not to damage anything whilst you’re cleaning,” Marvolo barked at the house-elf. “And make sure to lock the cellar door before everyone arrives tomorrow.” he stood, his chair scraping the marble floor. “Girls, please show our guest to her room. Ominis, care to join us for tea in the garden? I have to send an owl first, but Araminta can escort you.”

“Of course. Thank you,” Ominis said awkwardly. He could hear his sisters accosting his companion, pulling her away.

“Come along, Ominis.” Araminta said, appearing at his side. Her voice was slightly hoarse, missing the sickly sweet tone she adopted whenever Marvolo was near. She slid her arm through the crook of his elbow, patting his hand. “To the garden.”

Araminta led Ominis out to the garden, gently guiding him to a patio chair.

“Lovely weather in London,” she hummed, nestling into the chair across from him.

“Yes, lovely.” Ominis uttered.

“Although I’m sure it can hardly compare to the seaside.” Araminta noted. Ominis could hear the clinking of the china teacups, Araminta murmuring a warming spell under her breath towards the teapot. As she continued her pleasantries, Ominis found himself drifting back to the conversation he’d had with his companion in the carriage.

Even without sight, Ominis understood Araminta Malfoy to be beautiful. His entire life, he’d heard that she was tall, had delicate features, and was quick-witted. She had to be well into her thirties at this point, Marvolo’s oldest and most beloved mistress. There had been others, younger and equally pretty, but Ominis had never known any of them to linger as long as Araminta had. As far as he knew, she was married with a child of her own, an entire life outside of her dalliance with his brother.

“Alright, Ominis?” Araminta asked, fanning herself with a little lace fan.

“Just fine,” he lied. “How…how are you?”

“Quite well,” she said, pouring out a cup of tea for him. “Just got into town earlier this morning myself.”

“From whereabouts?”

He could sense her wry smile. “From Wiltshire.”

“Forgive me, what’s in Wiltshire?” Ominis cocked his head.

Araminta let out a tiny sigh, the fabric of her dress crinkling as she leaned back into her seat. “Malfoy manor.” she said coolly. “My husband’s home.”

Ominis nearly spat his tea out. “Oh,” he said awkwardly. “Right. How is…” he trailed off, trying to remember the name of her child.

“Abraxas. He’ll be four this year.” she dropped a sugar cube into her tea, pushing the sugar bowl his way. “Any milk?”

Ominis held his hand up in refusal. “No thank you. And your husband?”

“Also faring well, if not a bit miffed at me.” Araminta hummed. “I’m missing a boating party he assembled.”

“Sorry to hear it,” Ominis sipped his tea.

“It’s quite alright. Would’ve been dreadfully hot anyways.” she droned on, tapping her nails against the metal table. “I hadn’t been expecting your brother’s invitation, but always happy to join a Gaunt family weekend.”

“Family?” Ominis’s ears perked. “Everyone is coming?”

“Yes,” she said, fanning herself once more. “Your father and mother are due to arrive tomorrow evening for dinner.”

It was unlike his parents to leave the manor, he thought to himself. Marvolo must have had something significant up his sleeve if it was interesting enough to draw his senile father and glacial mother out of their den.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Araminta reassured him. “I believe your brother wants you to meet someone while you’re here.”

“Oh,” Ominis blurted. “ That’s why he has the house-elves hiding everything away?”

Araminta let out a bright, sparkling laugh. “Yes, I believe so. Your sister met a very sweet girl during her recent trip, and Marvolo thinks she might be a match for you. He’s invited her and her family to join us for supper tomorrow. Marvolo was quite impatient for you to feel better; kept rescheduling on them.”

Ominis fidgeted in his seat, trying to find the right words to follow up. If only they knew , he thought, that his heart was already spoken for.

“Galleon for your thoughts?” Araminta teased.

Ominis swirled his finger over his tea, stirring it.“The business of marriage is tiresome, don’t you think?”

Araminta’s laugh faded into a sigh. “It could be worse.” she mused. “You could be a woman, after all.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow. “A blunt sentiment. Is it really that awful?”

Araminta took a sip of her tea. “I’d ask your brother’s wife.” There was no mistaking the icy tone in her voice.

“Do you love my brother?” Ominis blurted. The question had slipped through his lips without a second thought.

“Your brother and I have known each other for a very long time.” Araminta shrugged, setting her teacup down. “And while I was not considered a suitable match for him, we enjoy each other’s company.”

“But do you love him?” Ominis insisted.

Araminta paused, ruminating over the question. “Even if I didn’t, do I have a choice?” she retorted.

Ominis was struck by her honesty. He’d opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of his brother’s heavy footsteps interrupted them.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” Marvolo said cheerfully. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Araminta’s head. “Catching up, you two?”

“Yes,” Araminta said sweetly, voice dripping with honey once more. “I was just telling your brother about the guest of honor for tomorrow's dinner.”

Marvolo, brutish as ever, spilled the tea as he poured it into the little teacup. “Yes, that’s what I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said absentmindedly. “The Pinch-Smedley family will be joining us for supper tomorrow.” Ominis raised an eyebrow. “The Pinch-Smedleys? As in, Grace Pinch-Smedley?”

“That’s the one,” Marvolo snapped his fingers. “I do believe you two were in the same year at school.”

“We were,” Ominis crossed his arms. “And you’re inviting her so that I might court her?”

“Marry her,” Marvolo said simply. “Her father is eager to get her off his hands, and he’s looking for a match that will elevate his station. They’re new money, but I can look aside that given the size of her dowry. And considering your deficiencies, she’s a good match.”

Ominis felt his mouth go dry. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

Marvolo’s friendly demeanor shifted rapidly, voice going cold. “Why not?”

“Grace, we barely have anything in common,” Ominis wrinkled his nose. “Sure, we went to school together, but I hardly know her–”

“Oh honestly, Ominis, don’t be such a girl about it,” Marvolo complained, draping himself over a chair.

“Marvolo, darling, I think Ominis is just nervous.” Araminta suggested.

Marvolo snorted. “Nothing to be nervous about–he’ll be winning a pretty girl. I could think of worse things. For example, the little Lestrange troll our father set me up with.” he joked.

Both Araminta and Ominis were silent, neither daring to respond to his jabs.

“Besides that,” Marvolo said coolly, attention turned back to Ominis. “Once you marry the Pinch-Smedley girl, and our little houseguest marries one of her many suitors, we’ll have a decent haul.”

Ominis felt sick, the bile rising in his throat. It felt like his heart was trying to claw its way out of his body, begging him to shout his affections for her. He opened his mouth to bring up his question, but nothing came out.

“Are you alright, Ominis?” Araminta asked, voice piqued with curiosity.

Ominis coughed, clearing his throat. “I’m fine.” he lied.

Ominis’s bedroom had long gone unused; he’d had to wedge himself between statues, stacks of books, and dusty old furniture just to fall into his old bed. He tossed and turned on his creaky old bed, struggling to find peace. On several occasions he found himself drifting off to sleep, but the chattering of Marvolo’s pet snakes kept him awake. He couldn’t imagine how his houseguest felt, subjected to the ever-present hum of hissing.

If Ominis really wanted comfort, he could always leave and go back to the flat he shared with Sebastian–he hadn’t been there all summer, and he yearned for the feeling of his tidy old bedroom. However, pressed stomach down against the flimsy mattress, Ominis found he longing for something else. Rather, someone.

Listening to his clock chime twelve times, Ominis got out of bed, tiptoeing around the mess of artifacts. Tying his robe around his waist, he held his wand up to guide himself down the stairs and through the tight, restricting corridors. Several times he found himself tripping over the fraying runners on the floor, needing both his wand and a hand on the walls to navigate his way to refuge.

The library was perhaps the only quiet place in the house. Marvolo had no interest in books, so he and his pets had no reason to enter the room. Ominis waved his wand quickly to unlock the doors, slipping through them without a sound. As the heavy wooden doors clicked shut behind him, he let out an audible groan, head banging against the surface.

“Tough day?”

Ominis nearly jumped out of his skin, hand pressed to his heart as he raised his wand. His eyes widened, realizing it was his companion, sitting cross legged in a wingback chair.

“It’s you,” Ominis sighed in relief. “Always out of bed in places you shouldn’t be,” he hummed, padding over to her. He pressed a delicate kiss to the top of her head, luxuriating in her smell.

“It’s a part of my charm at this point,” she mused, pressing a kiss to his palm. “It’s been a very long day.”

“Long is one way to put it,” Ominis grumbled, settling into the chair across from her. “Do you know how torturous it’s been being apart?”

“I’ve been relegated to spending time with your sisters,” she reminded him.

“Right. So, you understand the torture.”

She laughed, her voice low and hoarse. “They’re really not that awful,” she sighed. “Just…boring. They spent most of the day talking about clothes, hating their husbands, and gossiping about other ladies. I thought they were going to tear my head off when I told them Marvolo bought me new clothes.”

“Boring is kind of you to say,” Ominis huffed. “Devoid of feeling is the way I’d put it.”

“Did you miss me?” she taunted him.

Ominis raised a brow. “Is that even a question?” he slid off the leather chair, shuffling on his knees towards her. “I’ve missed you from the second we left the carriage.” he breathed, his hand catching around her ankle.

She took in a sharp breath. “I thought this was part of the rules,” she whispered, breaths stuttering as Ominis slid his hand higher up her leg. “Not being around one another.”

“I’ll never understand your incessant need to gallivant around the house in such little clothing.” Ominis chirped, the feeling of her thin nightgown catching between his fingertips.

“Hey,” she complained. “I am wearing a robe.”

Ominis rolled his eyes, fighting back his smile. “I love you,” he murmured, sliding her gown over her knee. He pressed a fervent kiss against her calf, tongue tracing circles over her skin. “And fuck the rules–Merlin, I missed you.”

“What if someone comes in and sees us?” she whispered, legs squirming as he pressed kisses along the inside of her thighs. It reminded him of their first encounter, his lips pressed against her thigh as a party raged outside the doors. Only this time, the stakes were much higher–there was no party, no noise to distract anyone who might hear them.

Ominis was almost always the north star of good judgment, but the smell of her was too intoxicating, and the feel of her silky skin against his had him ready to throw away all of his good manners. She always had that effect on him; something about her felt too good.

“They won’t,” he assured her, tugging her closer to the edge of the seat. He slipped his hand inside his robe pocket, pulling his wand out to cast a silencing charm on the door. “It’s just us.”

Setting his wand down on the floor next to him, Ominis hooked his hands behind her knees, tugging her closer. The hem of her nightgown was pushed up to her waist. He relished the sound of her soft sighs once his lips found skin; grinning as his tongue flicked against her warm, wet center. She muffled a cry, biting down on her hand to keep from moaning.

“I missed the way you taste,” Ominis confessed, brushing his nose against her cunt. “I’d do anything to feel you around me right now.”

“I’m sure…that, ah …that can be arranged.” she said breathily. “Quick, get up.”

Ominis pulled away, wiping her slick on the back of his hand. She shuffled around him, pushing him down onto the chair. He bounced slightly, feeling hand trail down his chest.

“What are you doing?” he tilted his head.

“Sit,” she whispered, nimble hands making quick work of his pajamas. Ominis let out a throaty groan as her hand wrapped around his length, slowly stroking him. “Relax.”

“On my lap– please,” Ominis whimpered.

She did as he asked, crawling onto his lap. His hands found her hips, tilting his head into her chest when she sank onto his length. He had no words for the feeling of utter bliss–it had been such a draining day, the feeling of her pulsing around him was bringing him back to life.

Despite the silencing charm, neither dared to be too loud. The only thing Ominis could hear was the creaking of the leather chair below them, her sharp breaths, and the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. She slowly rolled her hips as Ominis wrapped his arms around her waist, praying to hold on as long as he could. He didn’t want the feeling to end; he knew the moment it was over, they’d have to go back to separate beds, pretending they had nothing to do with one another once the sun came up.

“I love you,” Ominis breathed against her neck. Her hands were tangled in his hair, tugging at his locks to tilt his head upwards. “I love you .”

“I don’t want to go back to bed alone,” she croaked, pressing her lips against his in a fervent kiss. “I want to go home. To our bed, Ominis.”

Ominis nearly lost his resolve at her words. He imagined them leaving the wretched city together, hand in hand. Fuck the rules, fuck polite society, fuck arranged marriages. They could go back to the seaside manor, just the two of them. He’d ravish her in their shared bed, in the garden, down by the shore. It was home–their home–

He buried his face into her chest, thrusting upwards as he came, spilling inside of her. Her name dragged across his lips, face pressed into the sweaty cotton of her nightgown.

Panting, he leaned his head back against the chair. “I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I didn’t want to finish quite yet.”

He felt her mouth open, lips pressed against his temple, but she never had a chance to speak. The couple froze as they heard the door handle jiggle, muffled voices on the other side of the heavy wooden door.

Ominis panicked, realizing he’d missed a crucial step in safeguarding the room. His wand was on the ground; in his hurry, he hadn’t cast a locking spell on the door. Whoever was on the other side would surely catch them in their post-coital mess, his companion still perched on his lap. Ominis quickly lifted her off his lap, hastily pulling her nightgown down before falling to the ground to find his wand.

“I’m just going to fetch some whiskey,” the voice in the doorway said. The door creaked open while Ominis patted the floor for his wand. He could hear his houseguest gasp, and the patter of footsteps stopped.

“Oh,” the voice said, bemused.

Ominis held his wand up, preparing to defend himself, until he realized who was standing before them. It was Araminta, also clad in her nightgown; she’d been heading for the decanter of firewhiskey near the desk. His mouth fell open, but he had no words to explain away the scandalous scene. Face burning bright red, he used his free hand to cover his manhood.

“What’s the hold up?” Ominis could hear Marvolo’s lazy drawl from down the hallway. He blinked rapidly, praying that his brother would stay outside.

There was a moment of silence until Araminta cleared her breath. “Nothing, my love.” she called out. Ominis could hear the crystal decanter scraping against the desk as she grabbed it. “I’ll be right there.”

Somewhere down the hallway, a door shut. Ominis half expected his brother’s mistress to leave right away, but she turned back around to address them.

“The two of you better dress and get off to bed,” Araminta whispered. “You’re lucky it was just me.”

Ominis hastily pulled his pants up, helping his embarrassed houseguest to her feet. The two of them fumbled around with their robes, trying to sidestep the woman at the door. Araminta let her pass through without issue, but she put a hand on Ominis’s chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“You know better,” Araminta scolded him lightly. “You must be more careful.”

“Why would you care?” Ominis asked. It sounded bitter, but it was an honest question.

Araminta sighed, smoothing her hand over his chest. “You know how your brother can get; he doesn’t like to share–”

“She’s not his toy,” Ominis hissed, straightening his back.

“She’s not yours either,” Araminta reminded him. “Your brother charged you with her care, and I’m sure he didn’t mean it in that way.”

“It’s not like that,” Ominis muttered. “I love her.”

“I’m sure you do,” Araminta mused. “But be careful, Ominis. She deserves better than being someone’s mistress, don’t you agree?”

Ominis opened his mouth to respond, but he was too late. She’d already flipped her braid over her shoulder, confidently striding out of the library.

“Good morning,” Ominis grumbled, walking into the dining room.

“Merlin’s beard, did you sleep at all?” Cedrella chortled. The girls had already tucked into their breakfast. While his three sisters had all turned to stare at him with raised eyebrows, the girl situated between them kept her head down, pushing the eggs around her plate. Araminta sat at the head of the table, absentmindedly licking the oatmeal off her spoon.

“I’m fine,” Ominis lied, slinking over to the buffet. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of breakfast; while he was starving, his stomach was in knots. After their encounter in the library with Araminta, there was no way he’d be able to sleep peacefully. For most of his life, Ominis had never seen her as much more than Marvolo’s favorite mistress, but considering her choice words, he wasn’t sure what to think anymore.

Would she have told his brother? No, it didn’t seem likely. Would she perhaps use the information to blackmail him? A possibility. She gave nothing away, ignoring the rest of the table.

Ominis piled eggs and toast onto his plate, swallowing back a yawn as he sat down at the breakfast table.

“You really should take a focus potion,” Dorcas said lazily, draping herself against the back of her chair. “Mother and Father will be here shortly, and I doubt they’ll want to see you as such a mess.”

“No, not with your future bride in tow.” Apolline chirped. “You’re lucky Cedrella proposed the idea of Grace to Marvolo, you know. Pretty and she has money. Very hard to pin a fully pureblood girl with both nowadays, it seems.”

Ominis’s head flew up, wand gripped tightly in his hand. He could make sense of the faces around him; his sisters all had haughty grins on their faces. His houseguest, on the other hand, had turned her gaze to a portrait across the room.

“It’s not official,” Ominis announced. “Marvolo only told me yesterday.” The statement wasn’t for his sisters, merely a plea of reason to his lover.

“Well, you know how Marvolo gets when he puts his mind to something,” Cedrella grunted. “That’s how I got saddled with Montague.”

“Ugh, at least he’s not half as boring as Alphonse.” Dorcas complained. “My husband couldn’t be bothered to read a book.”

“Yes, but you at least get to enjoy Travers’s gold,” Apolline interjected. “Herbert lost it all in that dragon breeding ring…”

The girls went on about their husbands and unhappy marriages, while his companion remained quiet, scraping her fork across the bone china plate. Ominis felt a wave of dread crash over his senses; while he’d had some semblance of hope yesterday, what little remained was dwindling by the second. He wanted nothing more than to pull her away, reassure her of his affections. Instead, they were across the table from one another, forced into silence as his sisters babbled. He yearned to hear her voice, for something witty and smart to come out of her mouth–yet nothing.

The door opened, and everyone stopped their chatter. Ominis could hear the little pittering footsteps of a house-elf.

“Master Marvolo has asked to see Master Ominis in the library, sir.”

Ominis regretfully pushed away from the dining table, following the house-elf down the thin corridor. Their voices grew further and further away, until only his footsteps were audible. He pushed into the door of the library, raising his wand to get an idea of Marvolo’s position. His elder brother was sitting behind the desk, absentmindedly flipping through papers.

“There you are,” he droned. “Sleep well? You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”

“Just fine, thanks.” Ominis grumbled. “What’s so important it had to interrupt breakfast?”

Marvolo leaned forward, palms flat on the desk. “We’ll have a few more guests joining us for dinner tonight.” he said cheerfully. “Thought we should make it a celebratory affair, if we’re to celebrate two engagements tonight.”

Ominis felt his blood go cold. “Two engagements?”

Marvolo rapped his knuckles against the wooden table top. “Well, there’s you and Grace to start. If Mr. Pinch-Smedley is amenable to the dowry I’ve negotiated, we’ll make it official. You know, I despise social climbers, but we need the galleons.” he sighed. “That, and I’ve decided on a match for our little houseguest.”

“Who?” Ominis asked, almost a bit too quickly.

“Augustus Carrow has thrown in an offer of seventeen hundred galleons.” Marvolo chuckled. “I daresay the girl has made quite an impression on him. Thought we could deliver the happy news tonight, and get her out of your hair.”

“No.” Ominis clenched his fists. “Marvolo, I must insist. You can’t do this.”

“Do what, little brother?” Marvolo asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Ominis inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. “I…I can’t let you promise her to him.”

Marvolo stood up slowly, leaning over the desk. “And why is that?” he asked dryly.

“Because she’s not…she…” Ominis stammered, trying to make the words come out.

“Spit it out then,” Marvolo demanded.

“Because she’s not…pure,” Ominis choked out.

“As far as I see, she comes from a long line of pureblooded witches and wizards. Peasants, but still decent stock.”

“Not in that way.” Ominis said hastily, now fiddling with his wand handle. “I…I’ve been bedding her. I’ve taken her virtue, and it would be dishonest to peddle her off to Carrow in this state.”

Marvolo was silent a moment, before snorting. “Well of course you’ve been bedding her. I knew that, silly.”

He felt his mouth go dry. “You do?”

“You’re a hot blooded male, she’s a girl bored out of her mind. I figured you two would start fondling each other before long.” Marvolo laughed so hard, he had to clutch his stomach. “Bravo, Ominis. Good for you. She’s very pretty; I’ll bet she’s quite feisty in the bedroom.”

“And knowing that, you’ll still promise her to Carrow?” Ominis blinked rapidly, trying to piece together Marvolo’s rationale.

“Omi, my darling brother, you’re so proper.” Marvolo laughed. “Who cares if you’ve bedded Augustus Carrow’s wife? Merlin, everyone knows I’m shagging Malfoy’s wife.”

“But–”

“Ominis,” Marvolo sighed, flattening a palm against his forehead. “She’s just a girl. There will be plenty more for you–in fact, Dorcas has said the Pinch-Smedley girl is quite nice to look at…well, I guess that doesn’t really matter for you, does it…”

“But I want her ,” Ominis blurted. “Marvolo, please. I’m serious.”

Ominis could sense the change in his brother’s demeanor, mood hardening.

“Why do you care?” Marvolo spat. “Oh Omi, don’t tell me you love her.”

“Let me take her,” Ominis straightened, still and calm. “I want her.”

“That’s too bad,” Marvolo said coolly. “Because she’s not yours to have.” He sensed his brother move from behind the desk, leaning against the edge with his arms crossed.

“I’ve never asked you for anything, Marvolo.” Ominis insisted. “Just–just let me have her.”

Marvolo groaned. “Ominis, she’s a peasant.”

“You just said she was of decent stock.” Ominis argued.

“Yes, decent–but given certain circumstances, you require a bride with money ,” Marvolo reminded him. “And as far as I know, the girl is penniless. Father hasn’t a galleon to his name, I’ve made sure of that. If I let you have her, we lose the dowry from the Pinch-Smedleys, and I make no profit from hosting her all summer. We’ll be in the red.”

“But Marvolo,” Ominis interjected. “ Please .”

“That doesn’t mean you have to stop having fun with her, you know,” Marvolo drawled. “Honestly, doubt Carrow will ever be sober enough to notice–”

“That’s enough,” Ominis growled. “I would never behave that way, you know that.”

“Oh right. Ominis the honorable,” Marvolo chortled. “Honestly, here I thought you were finally loosening up now that you’d finally had a taste of pussy.”

“Don’t talk about her like that.” Ominis snapped.

Marvolo laughed. “Touchy, I get it. I’m just saying, you needn’t be so down. Look at Araminta and me, we’re quite happy with our arrangement.”

“It’s disrespectful, that’s what it is.” Ominis crossed his arms. “What of your own wife? Araminta’s husband, her children?”

“That’s enough,” Marvolo seethed. “Ominis, this is how marriage works. This is how it’s always worked in our family. You can have your fun, but at the end of the day, it’s about preserving and protecting our bloodline. You are a Gaunt–it’s time you start acting like one.” he hissed, brandishing his wand. “You are going to quit this incessant whinging, and do as you’re told. You’ll marry the Pinch-Smedley girl, and you’ll stop carrying on about this summer fling of yours. Get over it!” he snarled. “And get out of my sight.”

Ominis opened his mouth to argue once more, but shut it tightly. Without another word, he turned on his heel, stalking out of the library. Raising his wand with a trembling hand, Ominis realized that his companion had been right.

The idea of marriage with her had been a last ditch effort, that he would admit. Hell, even she’d known it was a bad idea. Even if Marvolo had blessed their union, they’d still be Gaunts. And as Gaunts, they’d be destined to live the same, miserable existence his family had endured for centuries. Lukewarm marriages, illicit affairs, joyless existence–the wheel turned on and on, chasing the standard Salazar Slytherin had set for them.

As Ominis walked down the hall, hand running over the peeling wallpaper, he thought of his siblings and their unhappy unions, matched to their spouses without a choice. He thought of his father and brother, who were always fighting to prove the Gaunts fledging superiority. He thought of how dreadfully unhappy everyone was, and how the only happiness he’d come to know was her company. Just her, just them, together. It didn’t have to be at the manor, in the garden, or their room. So long as he was with her, he’d be free.

Ominis knew he had little time to act before his parents, Carrow, and the Pinch-Smedley clan arrived for dinner. The house-elves, all panicking to finish the housework before guests arrived, hardly noticed the blind man slipping out the service entrance at the back of the house. He tiptoed until he knew he was far enough away that his siblings wouldn’t hear the familiar crack of him apparating away.

Ominis’s feet landed on the creaky wooden floors; the flat smelled of mallowsweet, firewood, and parchment, even in the heat of summer. He’d reminded Sebastian to open the windows in their parlor room from time to time to let the air in, but it seemed his roommate had forgotten.

“Ominis, what are you doing here?” Sebastian gawked. Ominis could hear the chair at the dining table scrape back, his best friend standing up to face him.

He twisted his wand in his hand anxiously, his other hand running through his hair.

“Plan A didn’t work out in my favor,” he admitted. “Still have your plan up your sleeve? Perhaps you want to fill me in?”

After years of friendship, Ominis didn’t need his wand to know when Sebastian was nervous. The brunette always dug his toe into the ground, anxiously fiddling with his collar.

“I don’t think we have much time to execute upon the original plan, but I got to thinking last night about another option.” Sebastian admitted. “It would mean leaving. And by leaving, I mean absolutely everything.”

Ominis walked over to the dinner table, settling into the chair across from Sebastian.

“Well, go on.” Ominis insisted. “We don’t have much time.”

Sebastian sat down, fingers drumming on the splintered wooden table. “Are you sure? Ominis, this will change your life.”

Ominis tilted his head towards the window, feeling the warmth of the sunlight streaming onto his face. It made him think of afternoons spent in the garden with the girl he’d fallen in love with.

“Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

#ominis gaunt #writing-intheundercroft #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x oc #ominis gaunt smut

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darkhorse-javert · 6 months

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Day 5; 'Bees and Honey

@flufftober

1920s Sussex Downs

How fickle and fleeting the world is, the thought passes through my mind one dozing summer evening as I sit out in the garden enjoying the long stretch of warm light.

My eyes rest on the tall figure, cowed now over his white ships of bee-houses. That the finest mind of London, help (and occasional frustration) of Scotland Yard, Hero of the thrilling papers, could slip into the quietness of Sussex life with hardly a ripple of interest from the wider world. To those who were nearby we are simply Mr 'olmes - as the accent places it - and I a retired medical man. No one of any consequence, really.

"Whither your Musing, my dear Watson?" My beloveds voice says, his long hand coming to settle fingertips on the arm of my chair.

"The waves and shifts of time and memory Holmes." I wave my hand lightly at the soft green garden, the just visible edge of a vegetable patch, a thick hedge at a bottom end "That we, after everything, may just be here and nothing comes rattling to our door. As if the great string of cases never was."

"Another era was it not Watson?" Holmes nods a little "We're from Before, before that terrible war which divides time like a deep river." His eyes glint with their old sharpness, "But you still have cases, John."

"Only in situation extremis, Holmes, as you well know." When Johnny Hodge fell out of the tree and fractured his arm so badly, then someone had run to the front gate yelling for me 'Old Doctor Watson', and I had been glad to splint it until they could get the poor boy to a proper hospital.

Holmes touches my arm again with light fingertips, I cover it with my own.

"Will you play tonight?" I ask soft on the air.

"Of course, Watson," His eyes are lit warm by the drooping sun "I rather fancy that new one by Vaughan-Williams."

(A/N By which I mean 'The Lark Ascending' )

#fluffspring2024 #granada holmes #retirement in sussex #bees & honey #day 5 #holmes x watson #sherlock holmes #john watson #post canon

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rumor-weed · 1 year

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Links to My Other Muses!

Audrey “Rumor” Weed - My Main Blog! You Are Here! But also check out the blog, it’s got a lot of fun links/little fun bonus bits. Here to spread rumors, gossip, and party hard til the last day. Her best friends are Bob the Tomato and Petunia Rhubarb. Petunia makes sense, they have a history, but Bob? One can only wonder how long they've known each other. They're on a bowling league together, and she loves it. She's very competitive, just probably not the best bowler. She may have sold Jollies, but we forgot to do anything with that plotline so who knows.

Bartlebey the Butler - Oh, Bartlebey. How beloved your bartleblogging has become. You scamp. You scallywag. You may be a Lovecraftian horror who vaguely resembles and sounds like Tim Curry, but is also a Veggie, a Butler, and Bartlebey, but you’re our Lovecraftian horror. Rescued from a few mentions on a dead blog, we made you our own. In fact, really, the only thing we kept was the only information given: your name and occupation. Now we know so much about you! Well... we know more than we did before, anyway. And that information can be found on the provided Veggie Lore page on the blog, if you don’t feel like sifting through all the RP logs. He is madly in love with Charlie Pincher. One could even say he's Charlie Pincher's dream come true. Maybe he is. He doesn't know where he came from, and his memories all seem fabricated. Was he ever real to begin with?

Phil Winklestein - the Toledian actor best known for being Frankencelery, potentially the next great musical playwright? probably not, though. Just really, really attracted to tomatoes for some reason. He's awkward, uncomfortable, and genuinely a little pathetic. A real "poor little meow meow" of a guy, or whatever you call them. He tries too hard to impress and it often backfires on him.

Peter Pepperazzi - the sleaziest Pepper you’ve ever met. He gives off dark, unsettling vibes, and nobody knows quite why he’s so obsessed with the Veggies, but when they became active again the summer of ‘23, he showed up as well, ready to ask questions. Does he seem a little obsessed with Petunia more than the others? What's his angle? Does he look familiar? He says he has a kid. Does he have any other family around?

Lovey Asparagus - poor, sweet Lovey. Went through an awful period of marriage, murdered divorced her husband, and yet he came back anyway, denying any knowledge of the worst of their relationship. She’s a Vampire now and her best friend is Jerry Gourd, so you know we’re following canon VeggieTales very closely. Only source material here, folks. She may have murder a little deeper in her veins than we think, and as her relationship with Archibald - at least, the one who returned - heals, she's considering solving murders and doing a true crime podcast with him. Just as best friends instead of lovers, this time.

Nebby K Nezzer - The man, the myth, the looks-67-but-is-actually-37 zucchini with a rotten love life. The Incident at Glee Club Finals may have been what aged him so drastically overnight, but nobody knows for sure. Rumor has it that he's actually Wally P. Nezzer pretending to be his twin brother Nezzer, but how long has he pretended? He seems to know too well the life of his brother Nebby. Is he more Nebby K. Nezzer than Wally P. Nezzer now?

Art Bigotti - revived famous bowler Art Bigotti, a once-wild party animal who has softened his edge with world-weary bleakness after a game of Jumanji gone wrong. Well, wrong for him. The game probably meant to do that. Either way, he returned forty years later, still the same age he was the night of the Incident. There are many questions left unanswered for him, and drugs, alcohol, and bowling just don’t seem to be the solution they once were in his golden days. His unrequited love for Dad Asparagus is obvious to pretty much everybody except Dad Asparagus, much to his distress and relief. Disrelief? Restress? There's a lot of highs and lows in bowling and love. They have that in common.

Laura Carrot - the child actor/criminal who Uno and Goliath believe murdered Uno’s parents in a Hot Topic. She did it. But don’t tell the cops I said that! She’s just an eight year old with a dream. A dream to own her own getaway truck one day. If only the world would stop getting in the way of that dream... Junior's her best friend, she may have killed Lenny, and she complains a lot about her dad. We never hear much about the rest of the people in her life, and maybe that's for the best.

Goliath Gottik - dated Uno in his younger days, though after the Incident, it became clear that Uno was suffering a severe breakdown and refused to grow, staying mentally in 2006 for the last seventeen years. He became a professional boxer, cameo’d on VeggieTales, and recently became more active in acting. Because of the whole Laura thing, he doesn’t really trust kids and believes they’re all criminal masterminds. He's not really smart enough to stop seeking medical advice from his veterinarian-combo-doctor Dr. Larry, which does lead to some wacky situations. He's constantly annoyed by his doctor, but maybe he thinks of their situation as friends, maybe as enemies, or maybe just really confusing frenemies. Seriously Goliath, why are you still going to him for medical advice? God forbid you actually need real medical help one day, it may be the death of you.

Pa Grape - Uno’s adoptive father. Tom and Rosie just aren’t around any more, they live out of state, and they never visit. Ma? Well, Ma seems to have gone a long time ago, and Pa doesn’t mention it. If you ask him, he’ll just faintly smile and allude to the fact that she’s been gone a while, a little sorrowfully. And sure, that looks like confirmation that she’s passed, but she could just be on a very long vacation, or they could be divorced, and who even knows. Pa’s been losing his memory lately as he ages, and he does his best to get by with the help of Uno, who needs to let go of the past and accept the way things have changed to heal in time to appreciate his father. Pa Grape also was front-man for Three Days Grace Period, a Three Days Grace cover band. His wife may be a car? Seriously, his wives are definitely a confusing subject, and I don't trust Pa Grape, even if his cover band was kind of cool.

Shannon Cedric “Uno” Scallion, or, Alternatively: Nameless Scallion/Scallion Number 1 - Yeah, he’s goff. He writes fanfic. It’s always 2006 for this scallion, who seems unaware of time passing, though Pa is helping him through his emotions and pulling him out of Emo Hell. He’s worried for his adoptive father, who despite his emo ‘you’re not my real dad’ attitude, he genuinely loves and sees as his dad. He’s embarrassed by the name Shannon (not goff enough), used to go by Cedric before The Incident, and then eventually settled on ‘Uno’ as an appropriate substitute. He's starting to catch up on time, or maybe time is catching up on him, and he's recognizing Pa Grape's aging and falling back into his old self - pre-incident. (I manage this blog with the permission of the owner, who has currently abandoned the project due to unforeseen drama in his life. He did promise to possibly add more ‘secrets’ to the blog, if you know what to look for in the URLs, and might return to his fanfics soon.)

Kilt “Bagpipe” Rhubarb - You know him. That Scottish or maybe Irish lad. And if you don’t? Send him some asks and get to know him. He's a Yale man, a redheaded rhubarb who's inexplicably flirtatious and a little horny. Before Archibald came back, everybody knew him as "that fella Archibald cheated on his wife with". Also a general menace to their society. He's not who he says he was, but who is he then?

Tom Grape - He just wants to be left alone. Why don’t you bother him with some asks?

Egg Boy - He likes Eggs. What else do you need to know? An orphan who wants to know who his parents were, and is also a biter/has sharp teeth like a shark. For a few years he thought his father might be at the bottom of the sea...

Vicki Cucumber - like, ugh, whatever 🙄 she's over it. she's done. She's not even all that into him, and maybe she's just trying to cover up her feelings for someone else. Or maybe she's madly in love with both of them. Or neither of them. It's so not your business.

Scooter Carrot - he’s hip, he’s Scottish, some kids call him oddball, some kids call him weird…

Mr. Beet - Not to be confused with his brother, Mr. Beast, Mr. Beet runs a hotel and generally is pretty pissed off all the time. Maybe there's a dramatic backstory his episode didn't cover, but we'll sure figure it out if we ever get around to focusing on our many many characters. Seriously. Look at this list. This is just Ryan's (me) list. You know how many characters I plan to ADD to it?

Joetato Jonas - star of Camp Rock 2: the Final Jam and Head Brother of the Jonas Brothers. He just wants to be appreciated for being famous! He's THE Jonas Brother!

#my muses #check out the blogs!! they're tuned to the characters and some have hidden secrets or special pages #hopefully more lore pages to come soon but spent a while remaking unogoffboi since the OG blog was broken anyway #ooc

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everythingsinred · 2 years

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Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Mikan (pt. 15)

Hey, friends! We're about to begin one of my favorite arcs! (Don't ask me what my favorite arc is; it changes like the weather.) The New Year's Arc, or in my head the "Discovering Natsume Arc," is super important to Mikan's development and to her feelings for Natsume, so we'll be having a field day, y'all and I. Let's get to it!

<- Prev Next ->

Chapter Fifty-Three

This arc has everything!!!!

Ignore me, I HAVE to quote SNL right now.

This is the beginning of a pretty important arc. In the Natsume essay, I called this arc the “Discovering Natsume” arc, which made it less important for him and more important for Mikan. To be entirely honest, so much happens here--particularly with Mikan and her feelings, both for Natsume and her insecurities--that it almost feels like a climax. If you only read up to the New Year’s Arc, it almost feels like a complete story, as unsatisfying as it is. I’ll discuss that more later (“Yeah, later later--I’ve heard that one before!”) (I'm made of references. If you get this one, we can be best friends!!!).

In any case, the arc begins with the elementary Class B dorm New Year’s party! Everyone is gussied up and star ranks have nothing to do with the feast for once, so everyone can tuck in too! (Although the money packet is still dependent on star rank.) Mikan is properly excited, especially because today is her birthday.

Class B, my beloveds.

She tries to subtly remind her classmates, asking if everyone knows why this day might be special besides being New Year’s Day, but nobody seems particularly interested in indulging her. She has memories of celebrating with Jii-chan, who was often the only one she could celebrate with, only to have her New Year’s packet be her birthday present. It must be so sad to be born in the winter months, when the gift-giving holidays are all clumped together and your special day gets lost in the mix. Tragic. Can't relate because I was born in the summer so I am super privileged--I always got the whole day to myself.

(Natsume is left-handed, Mikan’s birthday is New Year’s--they’re so oppressed.)

In any case, she’s excited to celebrate with friends for once, to have her birthday be a big event. Mikan likes attention and, unlike Natsume, she actually wants people to make her birthday a big production because it never has been. But nobody seems to care at all, too preoccupied with it being New Year’s. It’s finally her chance to have a proper birthday and she’s still being overshadowed by the coming of the new year.

The arrival of the New Year’s cards in particular distract everyone from Mikan’s obvious hinting, and even Mikan temporarily forgets the subject when she finds out she got a little stack of cards too! She’s touched to see the card from her Jii-chan, the only person who actually remembers her birthday. Her stack is small though, nothing compared to Hotaru’s tower of fanmail or Ruka’s mysterious postcard from his family.

Her mood switches around so quickly!

Ruka and his family are very mysterious. Mikan may be friends with Ruka now but his past, family, and friendship with Natsume remain obscure. It’s important that our arc begins with this concept! You may remember Natsume’s essay for the Reo Arc, when I pointed out that Natsume’s dream in the beginning was important because it signaled that some change must occur by the end of the arc. Similarly, for Mikan, her dislike of Natsume and Sumire being stressed at the start of that arc also was a sign that things must change. Similarly, Mikan muses here that she knows nothing about Ruka or Natsume or their families. Thus, by the end of the arc, we can expect that to change.

(You can track foreshadowing this way. Not all stories are well-written, and even if they are, some stories have foreshadowing that you’re not meant to pick up on the first time around. But when an arc begins with a thought like this--”I don’t actually know much about Ruka’s family”--then you should keep it in mind for later, especially when such importance is placed on it. Gakuen Alice is, for the most part, pretty well-written, and most arcs begin with foreshadowing like this, which is very fun to track. These hints help us figure out what the central themes of the arc are and why they’re important. The Reo Arc was important because Mikan made friends with people she previously disliked. The Z Arc was important because Mikan realized that her wish to be useful and “sacrifice something” is not as simple as she thought. And now, the Hanahime Den Arc is important because Mikan will completely uncover both Ruka and Natsume by the end of it.)

Mikan and friends are able to get their hands on Ruka’s post card, where they see his bizarre family as well as a holiday message from his mother, mentioning Natsume and a person named Aoi. Of course, the immediate focus is on Ruka’s beautiful foreign mother. But Mikan picks up on the mention of Natsume and wonders about who Aoi could be. All Mikan knows is that Ruka and Natsume came to the academy together. The details are still out of reach. See, Mikan is closer to Natsume, but she never stopped trying to figure him out. He’s still the king of mysteries, after all! Higuchi Tachibana said in Natsume’s character profile that solving his mystery was kind of like solving the general story’s mystery, which is part of the reason why this arc feels like a climax. Mikan’s little oblivious crush on Natsume only makes her curiosity about him more potent, which is why the message stands out to her so much.

I love this page. It's uncomfortable, but still somehow manages to be the moment before a disaster.

But Natsume confiscates the letter and gives it back to Ruka, scolding Mikan for being rude because it’s not nice to take somebody’s postcard without permission (which is true!). Mikan feels guilty and uncomfortable (because he’s right!), so she tries to change the subject to something nicer, asking him innocently how many cards he got today. But the atmosphere only gets more tense. He stays silent but glares at her. He just leaves the room, slamming the door shut behind him and leaving an awkward vibe in his wake.

Mikan asks what just happened and Sumire is eager to fill her in with as much judgment as possible, beginning her scolding by saying “And you made such a fuss when it happened to you.” Natsume never gets any letters, not during the year and not even on New Year’s when everyone else does. The censors are always strict and it’s tough for anyone to get a letter sent or received, but Natsume is special: he has never gotten letters and never will.

And Mikan remembers the “fuss” she had made, when Natsume told her that they were special cases, that they’d never get a letter and shouldn’t trust the teachers. Sumire says that if Mikan had thought a little about it, she could have figured it out before she ruined the mood and Mikan feels instantly guilty.

She didn't mean to!!!

This moment is important for several reasons!

One is that we (and Mikan) can see that even though Mikan is like Natsume in some ways, his struggle at the school is different from hers. He’s singled out just a bit more (for now). This creates curiosity in us (and Mikan) about what exactly his circumstances are and why it has to be this way.

Second is that this is the second time now that Mikan has hurt Natsume’s feelings (that she’s aware of). The first time was when she refused to dance with him at the culture fest afterparty, when she realized that she was just taking her anger out on him. But it’s more than that this time, because Mikan didn’t mean to be hurtful. She was curious and acting on her curiosity and accidentally pressed the wrong button. She feels awful because she didn’t think before speaking. This (in regards to Natsume) will be important in the future, particularly in the Sports Festival Arc, which is why I’m emphasizing it now. This instance is small-scale, but still important. What matters is that Mikan feels bad that she wasn’t more considerate.

And the third reason is to give Mikan some birthday angst!

Anyway, the biggest take-away to get is that Mikan is guilty because she hurt Natsume’s feelings, even if she didn’t mean to, because she was thoughtless. She wanders around outside, consumed by guilt and cajoling herself for being insensitive, especially after she’d gone through similar troubles. She runs into Narumi, who is only the second person to remember her birthday, spurring her into sobbing.

Poor Mikan! That's my favorite thing to say.

Mikan is a child--still, after everything that happened to her--so she is simultaneously happy that he remembered, sad that nobody else did, and convinced that she doesn’t deserve birthday wishes. It’s a confusing cocktail of emotions. It’s only logical that she cries about it. She also misses her Jii-chan, which makes her cry more. She tells Narumi what happened with the ESP at the Christmas Ball, asking again why she’s being singled out. She admits that she causes problems and is concerned about being punished for it.

I feel like I’m repeating myself but whatever: Mikan may seem carefree and cheerful on the outside, but she keeps a lot of her worries inside. She never stopped worrying about the encounter at the Christmas Ball, even if she stopped talking about it as much. She never asked any questions about “that woman” or the mysterious teacher with the same alice as her, and yet she clearly has the feeling that they’re tied to her somehow. She still worries deep down about Natsume and his alice shape, even if she tries not to think about it. She definitely doesn't want to want to think about her feelings for Natsume or romance in general. Mikan isn’t a character who doesn’t or can’t worry; she’s a character who chooses not to, especially in front of others. When she’s alone, or feeling vulnerable, like now, she does express concern. This encounter with the ESP is really weighing on her, despite all her smiles and cheer.

But Narumi attempts to comfort her, not by addressing her concerns (because he can’t right now), but by telling her not to worry, because he will always protect her. Mikan is moved by this and quickly recovers her mood, blushing and smiling again. She tells Narumi that she loves him. He responds that he loves her too, more than anyone, which she knows is a lie. She laughs about that for a moment, as well as pondering how one of Narumi’s hands is warmer than the other, but Mikan’s mood has genuinely lifted.

She loves so many people! She just doesn't like to think about how she loves one particular person...

She shouldn’t be scared because she has all of her friends with her, standing by her side. She has people she loves, who love her too. Whatever issues she faces in the future, she won’t be facing them alone.

She overhears her friends calling for her, expressing worry and concern for her, as well as voicing remorse for pretending not to know it was her birthday (which was all Hotaru’s idea… for some cold reason). She has a surprise party waiting for her, so she is able to smile and rejoin her friends again.

The New Year may have started chaotically, but she hopes that the year will be great, just like last year--and that the next few years will be great too!

Ha. Ha…

We call this foreshadowing too, but when you’re first reading it might seem like just words on the page to wrap up the chapter. It’s not really that meaningful until you reread, when you realize that Mikan’s year will be difficult and painful, that she will be darkly traumatized. And that the years that follow will have her stripped of her memories. It’s foreshadowing in that Mikan makes a wish, and it won’t come true.

I love foreshadowing!!

(We will ignore Mikan refusing to let herself be sad. Her insistence on finding a silver lining despite how dark things become does not cancel out how terrible the upcoming year will be for her, starting with today and tomorrow.)

Chapter Fifty-Four

Mikan’s finally having a party with all her friends. She would be entirely content, if not for the fact that she still hasn’t reconciled with Natsume after hurting his feelings. He’s still sulking, Mikan is still guilty, and thus the party has a minor hiccup.

But the biggest distraction is when Hotaru gets personally invited to the Flower Garden Association Party. Tsubasa and Misaki visit before we can focus too much on that and suddenly the whole gang is making mochi.

Natsume seems to be the only one abstaining from the activity. Everyone else is making up their own mochi recipe--some better than others. For example, Ruka’s seems to be a big hit that the others covet, while Mikan’s is a bizarre monstrosity.

During the exam chapter, Mikan announces proudly that she loves cooking, and I believe her. Where Yuka is a terrible cook at all the basics, burning food, Mikan is happy to cook! But the combinations she puts together are so ridiculous that there’s no way they could turn out tasty. For example, today she has prepared bean broth with orange mochi. Now I know very little about Japanese flavor profiles, but that sounds horrible, especially compared to Ruka’s or Sumire’s. Based on all the other characters’ reactions to her mochi, it can be deduced that those flavors do not mesh well. She is perhaps too creative.

As they prepare to eat, Mikan sees Sumire offer some mochi to Natsume and then gets the idea that she should too, offering her terrible mochi to him as an attempted apology for speaking insensitively before.

She loves him so much I'm going to cry.

But the thing is that it’s hard to apologize to Natsume. Mikan always has trouble when there’s something important to discuss between them, especially when the tone is so serious. At the afterparty, she couldn’t admit that she had taken her anger out on Natsume when he hadn’t really done anything. During the Z Arc, Mikan struggled to say that Natsume was ignoring her in particular, because it felt too uncomfortable, putting herself on the line like that. Later, at the lake, she couldn’t fully complete her sentence that she wanted to give him her alice stone because she feared rejection. This is one more example of a similar issue: apologizing to Natsume, or even just implying that she cares about him or his feelings, is tough for her to do.

So she doesn’t apologize. She just stands there, trying to get the words out, until she gives up, leaving her bowl there and taking off. Things with Natsume are always awkward for some reason (because Natsume is different!) so even though she feels genuine guilt and really wants to make up, actually taking that step in vulnerability is difficult for her. She’s nervous how he’ll react, more so than with anybody else.

Misaki is able to explain all she can about the mysterious organization that has invited Hotaru. At the beginning of the last chapter, we got a breakdown of the three divisions and the vibes they give off: the elementary school is childish and impulsive, the middle school is a breeding ground for gossip, and the high school feels like a secret society. Though the entire school is mysterious, the middle school seems to be the most mysterious, with its bizarre headmistress and the countless rumors. If you pay attention while reading GA, you’ll notice that the phrase, “I heard there was a rumor in the middle school division” tends to be the precursor for the sharing of gossip. All rumors seem to have roots in the middle school. Thus it makes sense that it’s Misaki sharing the information now. Not only is she in the division and would therefore know a little bit more about her own headmistress than the elementary schoolers, but she is part of the gossipy school.

In any case, the organization is like a harem of pretty girls, a grouping of the most impressive girls in the academy, so it makes perfect sense that Hotaru, a genius with a unique alice and a beautiful face, would be selected. Hotaru only becomes interested when she finds out the flower princesses get special treatment. But there are terrible rumors about the middle school principal and her flower princesses, that the principal locks away her favorite girls, that the position of flower princess is nothing more than a status symbol. And yet, despite all of Misaki’s warnings, the elementary girls all want the jewel ball that goes to a random girl that will allow them to attend the party.

It’s fun to see all the girls be a little shallow. We know Mikan is already, that Hotaru has a fondness for all things glamorous and expensive, and that Sumire has a shallow affinity for the cutest boys in class despite their sketchy personalities. But all of the girls are focused on the shallow status symbol party now, entirely unmoved by the creepy rumors. They truly are children. Sniffle.

The desperate search for the jewel is interrupted when all the kids start flinging across the room towards each other, sticking like magnets. Anna and Nonoko, Koko and Kitsu, Hotaru and Youichi with Ruka, and Natsume and Mikan. Turns out they’re all stuck together because of a prank Tsubasa played, where he put a prank mochi-mochi powder in the mochi, so any people who ate the same mochi would stick together. So Anna and Nonoko, as well as Koko and Kitsu, who probably willingly shared their mochi together, are stuck. Hotaru and Youichi stole bites of Ruka’s tantalizing mochi and that sadly means he’s stuck to both of them. And Mikan and Natsume…

Well, if they’re stuck together, then that must mean that Natsume actually ate her nasty-ass mochi! The page becomes sparkly and sweet as Mikan asks if he ate her broth after all. She doesn’t really need to ask. He wouldn’t be stuck to her if he hadn’t. He brushes it aside with a mean comment about having to choke it down, but it doesn’t matter. Mikan is still sparkly! Natsume ate her apology mochi!

I love sparkly panels! I always pay attention to them!

She bickers with him about the flavor of the mochi, but she’s relieved, because they made up after all. Now Natsume is back to normal, which is what she’d been wanting all day. Now that it’s much less awkward, she’s able to actually say the words, “I’m sorry about the card thing earlier.” Now that the atmosphere seems less serious, it’s not as vulnerable for her to put herself out there and apologize. He’s already forgiven her, pretty much, so saying the words is easier.

Immediately after this, Mikan finds out that she got the prize jewel invitation! Which means she can go to the party with Hotaru!

What I really love about this moment compared to some other books or movies with similar tropes, is that Mikan isn’t actually special enough to have earned this random invitation. In another manga or show, for example, the main character and her best friend might be invited because even though Mikan thinks of herself as stupid or plain, the truth is that she is very special and beautiful! She gets invited because there’s something about her!

But that’s not what happens here. Mikan being invited isn’t a coincidence and furthermore it doesn’t even have anything to do with Mikan. This is a plan to lure Natsume to the Hanahime Den dungeons, where he will have to be punished for his insubordination. If the MSP had any say in the matter, Mikan certainly wouldn’t have been invited (and it’s for this reason that Mikan is treated so cruelly at the party). In another show, Mikan and Hotaru going together would be a given, so much so that you’d roll your eyes at the contrivance (I’m saying this because I hate that kind of plot). But here, Mikan and Hotaru both being invited is suspicious, something that sets off alarms for Tsubasa and Misaki.

But it’s been an hour, so most people are becoming unstuck, except for the Ruka mochi gang, whose bodies have compatible body chemistries with the prank mochi-mochi powder, meaning they could be stuck for two to three days.

Mikan is, like always, ?????????????

Natsume and Mikan do not have compatible body chemistries with the powder, so they become unstuck, except that Natsume grabs her hand and holds her still. The plot could easily benefit from Natsume and Mikan remaining stuck like the Ruka mochi gang, but instead, Natsume makes the choice to fake it. This is important because it makes Natsume’s behavior unusual and suspicious. He’s planning something. If they’d genuinely been stuck, then that suspicion might be missing, and it’s necessary for the next few chapters.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Mikan wants to be honest. She doesn’t want to be stuck to Natsume anymore! But he hurts her hand and insists that they’re still stuck. He turns to her for her to agree that they’re stuck and many unspoken threats are apparent. If she disagrees, he will hurt her somehow. So she agrees.

Ruh roh!

From Mikan’s POV, Natsume is being needlessly sadistic. He must be doing this to torture her because there isn’t any other clear reason why he’d go through all this trouble. The girls might not be able to go to the party, they can’t be parted enough to take baths, go to the bathroom, or sleep separately. Hotaru’s group is lucky to have her because she has pills and sprays to control their bathroom needs, but poor Mikan is being bullied by Natsume, who’s not even really stuck to her!

She hates being stuck to Natsume and she loudly says it to everybody who can hear. She bitterly muses that being stuck to Ruka would be much more pleasant because Ruka is nice. He wouldn’t insist on staying stuck for no reason, wouldn’t be angry when they go to the bathroom, wouldn’t be threatening her and ruining her birthday. All those happy sparkly feelings about Natsume eating her mochi are gone, replaced by bitter indignation. This is important too. We are in the Discovering Natsume Arc, after all, which means Mikan will have to learn more about him. Additionally, Mikan has and will continue to have misunderstandings about Natsume’s behavior, leading to hurt or anger when he genuinely doesn’t mean to hurt or anger her.

We know from Natsume’s POV that this isn’t some fun prank for him. He doesn’t want to torture Mikan. He doesn’t even want to be stuck to her because he has feelings for her because, as we know, he’s already given up on that option. Instead, he wants to find his sister and this ruse is the only chance he has of getting into the girls-only Hanahime Den.

And so Mikan will continue to misunderstand him, partly because he’s a mystery and partly because he tends to be dishonest on top of that. Keep this in mind for later.

For the moment, Mikan gets called out by Koko, who teases her by asking if that means she prefers Ruka to Natsume. She answers yes without thinking, only to realize what she’s said and start yelling at Koko not to meddle.

That's nice, Mikan. Not that Natsume is being nice.

Mikan messes up a lot by being rash and impulsive, by saying or doing the first thing that pops into her head. She is so preoccupied currently by her own feelings that she doesn’t even think about how Ruka or Natsume will feel hearing something like that. Of course, anybody can answer a question too quickly without thinking and end up messing something up (like answering one question at work too honestly and then having the work offer rescinded as soon as you get home so you have to find a new job after only one day… sigh). Still, this is the second time today that Mikan hurts Natsume’s feelings because she’s too preoccupied with her own to think before she speaks.

In any case, they’re sleeping together in Natsume’s room. He is open to sleeping in her tiny bed if she prefers it, but the issue isn’t the bed, it’s who she’ll be sleeping with. He tells her he really doesn’t want to sleep with her either, which just pisses her off because this is all his choice! If he wants to sleep by himself all he has to do is let go of her!

But then he says, “I’m sorry for not being Ruka.” He’s very serious all of a sudden, and Mikan can’t be angry anymore because now she’s confused instead. He announces that the ruse will end tomorrow, and even though Mikan has no idea what he means by that, her anger has dissipated.

They’re alone in the dark in a huge bed now. They can let go of each other’s hand. She muses about how much nicer his bed is than hers. He’s not doing anything weird. Sleeping with a boy is not as terrible as she’d assumed it would be. She asks him what his plan is, pointing out that she deserves to know if she’s going to go along with it. But he just tells her to go to bed without answering any questions.

♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥♡ ♥

Natsume is mysterious for many reasons. He doesn’t talk a lot. When he does talk, it’s usually to insult or tease her. He seems to be involved with the shadier parts of the academy, but nobody is willing to tell her much about any of that. Additionally, all the real information she gets about him is second-hand. Misaki-sensei warns her about him being dangerous. Hotaru and Yuu tell her the rumors of him being a murderer. Ruka insists there’s more to him, that he hates his own alice. Reo is the one who spills that he works in black ops missions for the school. He rarely tells her anything about himself. Not before, not now, and not during this arc.

Natsume, as we know from his essay, would never willingly drag someone into his dark life by oversharing. Telling someone about his dark backstory would be out of character. Explaining to Mikan why he’s doing this whole act would be out of character.

But as a result, Mikan can’t help but misunderstand him. She’s the only one actually trying to fill the gap between them, despite his every effort to be as mean and rude as possible.

Mikan is wide awake and lonely. Natsume managed to fall asleep, which means she has nobody to talk to. She yearns to attend the party tomorrow and bitterly thinks it’ll all be Natsume’s fault if she doesn’t end up going. But again, for the tenth or twentieth time, her anger vanishes as soon as she hears Natsume groaning in distress.

She will never care about any anger more than making sure that he's okay. He's more important than grudges.

During the Culture Fest, when Natsume faked being sick to get her down off her carpet, Mikan forgot her anger because the idea that Natsume could be in genuine danger concerned her. She distinctly worried about his potential alice shape and then acted upon it.

This is a similar situation, where Mikan can see that he’s having a terrible nightmare and even looks like he’s in pain. She wakes him up and is instantly relieved when his eyes open. She was so nervous that something serious was going on that she felt like she had to wake him up to check on him.

But then he pulls her closer into a hug and snuggles her.

She naturally starts freaking out. We already know that Mikan gets nervous whenever Natsume does anything remotely kind or gentle. Their nice, intimate dance during the Christmas Ball made her very nervous. The idea of kissing him freaked her out even more. And this is snuggling! Natsume definitely doesn’t seem like the type who would snuggle, and especially not her, and yet! She blushes and panics, but he tells her to shut up, which lets her know that he’s still awake. He tells her some confusing stuff about giving her back to Ruka after tomorrow--stuff that I’m sure she understands at least a little.

I genuinely think Mikan has an idea that Ruka has romantic feelings for her, as I’ve said before during the Christmas Ball. I think she has a semblance of an idea about it all, some level of understanding that she’s in a bit of a love triangle. I don’t think it’s a fully fleshed out thought because, as we know, Mikan doesn’t really like to linger on uncomfortable concepts. But she knows Ruka likes her. She cares for him too, although I’d argue not romantically, even if she doesn’t fully realize that. This situation is only confusing to her because she doesn’t know what she feels or why.

Doki doki!

But Mikan’s heart is racing, and even though he’s telling her to just shut up and be quiet, she still thinks he’s cute. She stops arguing pretty quick and does indeed keep still, blushing while her heart beats fast and loud in her chest.

I don’t know if Mikan decided to hug him back before she fell asleep. She thought he was cute so it’s a possibility that she decided to snuggle him back. I mean, she kissed him back on Christmas, so it's a possibility! In any case, she’s definitely hugging him by the time they wake up, though Natsume seems to not remember any of that nonsense and instead accuses her of clinging to him. She’s very upset that she wasted her emotions on him, ashamed that she’d actually thought he might be cute.

Mikan may be our protagonist and occasional narrator, but she doesn’t actually reveal very much in her narration. If you’re reading and feel yourself getting confused, asking yourself, “What is she actually thinking right now?” then you’re not alone! Mikan doesn’t actually tell us very much. She doesn’t tell us what she thinks of Natsume kissing her, or about him snuggling her. All she ever seems to say is that she’s confused because she is. I think that, just like she’s nervous to voice her serious feelings to Natsume, she doesn’t want to admit it to herself (or us) either. She’s confused too, so she doesn’t always know what she’s thinking. Mikan is not nearly as upfront as she may seem. She needs to be analyzed too, just like Natsume.

Cute! She snuggled him back!

See, Mikan only said (to us) she thought Natsume was a little cute after she got pissed off at him. She didn’t think anything clear in the moment. She only admits it (to us) when she’s upset to voice her shame. Thus, we have to connect some dots. Mikan acts a certain way when Natsume snuggles her, a similar way that she acted during their kiss--at first surprised and maybe a little panicky, until she settles down and maybe thinks he’s a little bit cute. It’s a victory for us that she’s willing to share even just this small crumb, admitting that she finds him cute at times, especially when he’s affectionate.

She’s such an enigma. Analyzing her is so much work. Anyway!

It turns out Mikan and Hotaru can attend the party after all, even with their male companions. The thing is, though, that they have to crossdress in order to gain entry.

Yet another plot element that might seem contrived or cheap until you realize this is a big conspiracy to lure Natsume into the dungeon where he’ll be trapped forever.

Conclusion

Wow, that was so much emotional repression! It makes my head hurt. But we've wrapped up Mikan's birthday, so next time we'll talk about how the actual party goes (hint: not well).

I won't be posting for at least ten days, because my precious Zoe is coming home for Spring Break, so I'll be devoting those days to spending time with her. I'll still be here. Ask questions to your heart's content! I'll be back soon to continue the New Year's Arc!

I don't always listen to my NM playlists while writing/editing/formatting these posts. Maybe I listen to a specific album or an emo playlist. Or maybe I listen to a seven hour playlist featuring music from the precise time I was in middle school (why was it so eerily accurate, down to the years, to my specific experience? Creepy that it just randomly appeared on my recommended). Anyway the playlist still fits because I first found GA when I was in middle school so I associate it with this particular era.

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huntinglove · 1 year

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💌🌸💫😳

for enmu, kyogai, and tanjiro? ^^

Hi hi El!! Thank you so much for the ask!

💌 - What pet names does your F/O use for you the most? Which pet names do they like being referred to with the most?

Enmu likes to call me: little daydreamer, sleepy head and my dear!! And I like to call him: my love, handsome and darling!

Kyogai likes to call me: princess/prince/princet, my muse and beloved! And I like to call him: dear, sweetheart and honey!

Tanjiro likes to call me: ma'am/sir/mix, sweetie and pretty/handsome/cute! And I like to call him: sunshine, little darling and baby boy!

🌸 - What's their favorite season? Are there any seasonal activities in that time that they like doing with you?

Enmu really likes winter, the cold is just very inviting to get comfy in bed! He also enjoys how cloudy it gets, because that means that we're also able to go out during the daytime!!

Kyogai really enjoys fall, he says the dancing of the leaves and the whispers of the wind give him a lot of inspiration! The colder weather also gives him an excuse to be more affectionate, so we can "warm each other up" as he puts it

Tanjiro loves summer and spring! Spring can be a bit tough for him, because of how many flowers bloom, it's a lot of different smells and it can overwhelm him, so he usually prefers summer because it's still warm and bright!

💫 - What's their biggest wish connected to the future of your relationship?

Enmu wants both of us to become stronger and eventually get everything we've ever dreamed of, with the rest of the world at our feet. Just me, him and father as the strongest family in the world

Kyogai just wants a calm life where he can actually be himself, with no fear of being judged or humiliated. He hopes that I won't become distant as I get more powerful

Tanjiro hopes to go back to normalcy if he's able to. He wants to be able to have a family, with no fear of what may be creeping in the night. He just wants me and Nezuko to be there for him until the last of his peaceful days

😳 - What about your F/O do you find the most attractive?

Enmu's eyes, hands and voice are absolutely perfect and I adore all of them!! His very existence is beautiful and I couldn't adore him more!

Kyogai's teeth, eyes and claws are genuinely gorgeous to me! I really enjoy how gentle he is with me because of it all, he holds me like I'm made of glass, it's adorable to witness

Tanjiro's smile, voice and personality tied my heart into a knot as soon as I met him. He's gentle, kind and polite and it makes him incredibly beautiful to me

#✯ lovely asks #❥ dreaming on the rails #❥ emotions greater than words #❥ the sun sets over the ocean

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pridepages · 2 years

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Borrowed Time: Even Though I Knew the End

I just finished Even Though I Knew the End by CL Polk. I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

CL Polk’s magi-noir novel Even Though I Knew the End is a tribute to both 1940s gumshoe detective stories and to religiously-coded fantasies a la Supernatural. But at its heart is a single, painfully real question: how much would we be willing to risk for a little more time with the ones we love?

The novel is narrated by a spell-casting private eye named Helen Brandt. Helen lives her life on the margins as a lesbian in 1940s Chicago, facing all the risks that out-but-not-proud queer people of the era did as she tries to make a life with her beloved partner, Edith. But even in her secret life as an auspex, Helen is an outcast because she committed an unspeakable crime: after tragedy claimed the lives of her whole family, Helen traded her soul to Hell to raise her little brother back from the dead. Being damned, Helen was cast out of her magical fraternity and isolated from her brother, Ted, who stayed on the straight and narrow. Worse yet, there was a time limit on Helen’s deal: in 10 years she would have to surrender her soul and go to Hell. But with the clock almost up, a demon holding the rights to Helen’s soul comes to her with a deal: identify a murderous being who is stealing souls in Chicago, and Helen will have the chance to win back her own soul and her future with Edith.

World-building mythology here is particularly potent, considering the status of queer people as outcasts both in the earthly realm and, by some orthodoxies, the heavenly one. Helen observes her city, musing that “Chicago had loved us once, and the straights had packed into the De Luxe Cafe and the old Twelve-Thirty Club to come scandalously close to the queer. But the cops cracked down on the pansy clubs in 1935, and these days, Chicago didn't love our kind at all.” Far from contenting itself with silencing queer people, society found ways to literally put them away. Homosexuality was at the time considered a reason to lock people in an asylum because society “called it a sickness, but nobody who had vanished…had ever come back to say they were cured. Funny how nobody they decide is crazy ever seems to get better.” Seeing one of her old friends has now become one of the inmates, Helen desperately wonders “Who put her here, claiming to love her? Who had committed her to this place, where they would strap her into a device that would deliver electric shocks when she looked too long at a picture of a woman? They call it aversion therapy. Therapy. I never met anyone who said they were cured.”

In Helen’s world, you never knew when you could be caught and forced to pay the ultimate price for who you were. In that sense, every moment in love and free was stolen, hidden out of sight and clutched close with greedy hands and desperate hearts.

Today, some things have changed. Homosexuality is no longer classified as a mental illness, but it persists in being treated as a sin. It makes Helen’s conversation with an angel as relevant today as to the 1940s:

The angel calls Edith “a very godly woman,” to which Helen rejoins “If you forgive the perversion.” The angel replies: “The revulsion for homosexual love is a human prejudice.”

Who is it that has cast the queers from the divine light: God or human beings? How do we cope with living surrounded by voices that have us anathematized for loving? And what is the significance of God anyway?

The crux, whether you believe in God or not, is an inescapable truth: we are all living on borrowed time. And someday, that time is going to run out. When that day comes, it won’t matter whether the years that passed were long and golden as summer afternoons or harsh and short as Chicago’s winter days. In the end, we’ll all end up feeling something like Helen as she reflects on the time she shared with Edith: “Once upon a time, I had walked into a secret queer bar, and the woman who would be the love of my life asked me to dance...I never told her how she had saved me. I never told her how she became the dearest friend I’d ever had. I told her I loved her, but never enough.”

There is never, ever enough time. It’s so easy to understand why Helen trades her soul for more time with her brother, why she fights so hard to regain it in order to have more years with Edith: “Ten years with you? You bet I want it. Every second.” I’ve often wondered how differently I would live my life if I knew exactly when my time would run out. Is it better to live like Helen, knowing to the minute when the clock stops? Or is it easier to bear with some ambiguity?

Either way, I will do my best to live this moment, this life, with as much fullness and gratitude as I can muster, with every second of borrowed time. Even though I know the end.

#even though i knew the end #cl polk #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #lgbt reads #queer lit

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platonichaterbuthenihaveinsomnia · 6 months

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Oh, sweetness devouring hair splitting perfections of the sea I sit in between of these thoughts and I hope to god We make it make sense today, I hope to god we make it make Sense today, don't you also feel that we're being so real? Don't you also wanna lay down for a little while on grass and then Sandy tiles besides the beach in a villa eating a peach Rotating, half-slithering, as we make the ends of the world Meet slowly, darling, we're meeting slowly, darling, we're meeting Truly, I'm in love and now I feel, I don't have to be sealed On the lips but then again, all these prior adjustments are so rare To be found in such ideal conditions, to be found in this way, and I know if it goes sour, the most beloved thing I have right now Will disintegrate into memories, oh what a curse to have, Memories, and so I'll keep my sealed, with my doors felt, I'll hold your hands somewhere in a fantasy as we jump from the River to the ocean over some cliffs and commotion, the normalcy Of humanity looking at us above, it'll just be the two of us, The darling, and her love, And even if months pass, I'll stay in a corner, you'll be the steps That take us from loveliness to foreigners, attached and together Holding the threads of eternity, forever, oh This is me trying, speaking, and dancing, and writing, and finding Another one to say, look at the day outside Look at the way the clouds all come to such pretty formations as If we they were trying to be you, and as March'll pass, so shall Spring, April and May would be summer that brings relief at the end as we Jump to June and July, by August, we mightn't even be fine, Cause we mightn't even together, in September and October, When I come back and I tell you finally, I don't know If it'll make any sense, any sensibility, maybe we'll be together in October, Maybe we'll be the ideal frolicking characters that jump Over the fields of wheat in fray, you'll be Aphrodite, and I'll still not Over your grace, and so then we arrive at the intricacies of November As it seems to be sort of cold, but then we remember, However cold it might be, it always rains a little bit too deep, So you live, suddenly, in that house in front of my window and We talk about how this world's such a bad, but great place, looking at each Other from distance and space, and then when the November rains greet us, The windows, also, fog up, The little droplets sounding so in tune to our conversation but more, Our dreams we do, and then as it rains, still, we'll meet In the evening when no one's still around, and I'll ask you If I could tell the stories of you I saw in my eyes, and I'll misspeak, The dreams is what I talk about, because my eyes are so hellbent On the beauty I see, and my mind is so hellbent on your unending Intellect and sweet, so that when we meet someday again, The November rain will be immortalised then, And this is a story, I hope it becomes true, Darling, you're my permanent muse, Permanent, permanent, like the rain in November, You're my sweetest muse.

-Aryamaan Upadhyay

#original poem #poems and poetry #poems on tumblr #poem #words words words #poetry #poetic

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jeonqkooks · 1 year

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Obs!kook what if the only reason why oc accepted to work with you again was because she’s dying and wants to at least have some kind of closure. What will you tell her?

"I don't even want to think about a scenario like that." He heaves a sigh and rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "I know people would expect me to explain things if that were the case, but coming clean may cause her even more pain and frustration. Call me selfish, but I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do that to her. I've done enough already."

— @wintaerbaer

#one of these days i will actually transfer obs ownership to ari #ask my muse: our beloved summer #anon #answered

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libidomechanica · 1 year

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Glad I did not know; so never falling them vphold

A sonnet sequence

Glad I did not know; so never falling them vphold. And lyeth wrapt in glorious rarity who does not one hour of Heaven keep their leader sang—and bounded? Let me whom Lambro saw all the world may seem good to this? If love crossed long travell’d air, which each endear’d. And his crimson lights to mend, being pride, three beauty thus address’d his letchery being too dear for my faults, who turn and view my love. And the last Caesar’s earlier, and he who would not claim a right in all hours bereft, thought a rarity, are shaken wing, I sat, but have done away. For that lies in my mind’s eye.

Which himself at bals-paré, i’ve all feeling— right or wrongs and beautiful and sere, my timely fruite is falsely browne. And the Patrician left-legs, which their arms, and doorbells where a negative develops, whereon he earst had taught the goblet: the knee an amber cradle near Mercer St I probably annoyed I probably ignored you sleep, my life and rest, these were wont to raunge amydde the Muses after dinner—a day of typography; their little brook from the cause of merit, and the balefull boughes doe raines which are that so oft haue harts for the sire to laugh, while compress’d?

So nowe haue I scaled the pine, where my address’d his quench lovely dost thou no sinner; pleasure, in getting drunk or idling, which lovely-head! One in thine, not ask our wish our death. Secular emotion; he lover,— shadow’d the ear, and your natures were long, and to bed; shut fast theirs was a poet, while you sit fore your times such a nag on, and when that beloved of my Julia could not loathe theaters, blind to worth the scope of his Discourse, is rare, and the true that might disparage the pretty lad, but hurting her obeisance, let me seek with lots of man, and endeavour from thee.

I die, I die! So apply, his flocks, which my soul despond: there art thou,—finding pure, from wine—kept for all Aspasia’s clever feeling dwells in our bosoms but twenty-five? The clatter terme, my only blackbird in their sofa occupied three hundred pages has generally no great and kittens, scratchy scarves—where the cause should you though, we were ten thou art jealousy, with queintBellona in her flashing from the many mountain—the chieftain’s trophy used, and her betight? I sigh to midnight makes me, most of tunefu’ powers and flew at all she paceth forth I did shine, the Lady glance, thoughts are fairly fair; the eare that golden raine: an independent in the fish or tongue to say over every flake, and bravest of a’ the snow, nor blush, at least, their pure blood mighty manhode brought a rarity, through the waved branches o’er days are they could not dispraise but look of hope.

Its abacus and crush’d, and still for better poet. Night vision; I might there, with all the words are the last line of brown an eye, unused to peer her. He continued fusion from the green pebbles for power to laud the slackened soul shall I know, that of absences grow subtler, and come in you did move to-night deep feeds, and soft, your mind the virtues cover; I knew you at the fact is thyr sourse, and lull thy lov’d, and you welcomed both, show what the deep bell in love. Summer-standing, strangled mute, like pretty lad, but it didn’t tell me of our Spartan Mother with lilies and flasks of bliss.

The odds and endeavouring ships, and hang the shade—I could look, or sing it? For the shoe or slipper hope to all such scenes as the Sheepe, such a heart of stairs in that wont with aversion brought, that I must come—to be, belovëd, what ethereal dances, by swamping on the foam, that you luld her yesterday. And thus lamented should be some disappeare; for, I pray, how saw you fresh, as it always with Loyal Flames; when your flocks are coming all that everywhere he not with the skin which, entombing all are want of our days, and rapid gain of gold, the silent musing; though not lust.

Heart, which is worse commeth leade them for a fair; in gratulation seems holding in the Infernal Grove, I shall make Don Juan, till our own hall to heauen gan overhaile. To feverish pulse each thee embraue. A few hours and the forest leave Don Juan, till toward laughed; and for the Sum of her neste: howe haue I wear like a hawk encumbered with feasting trade, and others all sight for love, it profiteth me not, nor those, that of dusty floor where they relation, till as which leads the miser’s treasure. My day on day, but gazing spent her sparkling verses yet does not to song. Awhile weeds and fears numberless, because the silken fillet’s curb, and now they were small drop of ink, falling asleep. And oh, her laddie dear; till she began. It would not for my possession, unto his noble son to-day, the while I do speak; but violent things with my favorite vow. Is pleas’d with knowledge was brought.

Servile gluttoning on the sunlight bubbling it? My hurtlesse hare, til shee was well awake, she would have brain, I say, thou think? No harm! Are for two had dared to leap the year. It would leade me I am old, so long to make her mother’s Eyes, till, patchy and shudder’d upon her auburn hair almost blue I probably too hard thing so seen to be loved to me like dew, upon misprision growing too cold or silver sails all creature at the fair. Fro thence? She had no notion of getting bow-string, or a great and tall beyond the lie and thou in this, and eat, good friendship with Samian wine!

But gazing on the guns of Cavalli with feasting trade, cobbling run, the land! Star- sisters and crushing battles, and would punish theeues do rob, but windows. That whisper inspires—a females stood, its walls were he set a-foot, but as he the solitudes contemn, nor of the eyes of the truth, with case; but from the longer free, starved for either had, nor laughter, my suit you did move to-night, and Mocha’s berry, from autumn sky, and strings my tear to that he cannons loudly roar, and know a spirit fold, her breast with dimpled cheek grew pale, but this Fair One, when we meet. If not paid before.

How can I drown and favor that’s free, which perhaps three castles shadow on the surprise when the Dog Star rages, and bowe your provocative laughter where most solemn love to every perfection which, erring punishment is ennui. Just as embryonic chickens grow too awful; tis true he had not think of me you are most seraphic cheeks, of mild demeanour thought haue thresht in swelling through that is you a dunce, and come in at last; gold cups of filigree made in the Doctors, elegies and whilst our tongues perplex to find slaking, and agony’s forgot—gentle and wrecked.

I would be able to add a stone, mock’d the yell of Wisdom, and a Sigh is the tow’ry fence of my dull bearer when added; she with more prophecies, or is it, there was no reasons show, and Ida in the Cellar never could aught to meet. And knew till now forbore to withstand could scarcely though fame is but the moonlight—the head of love; Thy radiant eyes and quoted odes, and no wave of life, God wot, no villain need be! In her pure Beauty, the Sun and Moon would not learn, nor stopp’d. Till our spirit— not a sense. They gazed on her, with a fix’d ferocity, when power sink o’er thee.

Which is but a screen—yet for the counsel then on your hearth, before he died, but incessant. One on the sword that Greece, he sprung! A measure, I a sclender pipes of the broad-backed wave! Pitiless in war, through years ago or just like you that picked pear you should Colin hight, which it adorn’d its once warm precincts palely lying the treasure and active men, his name while I kiss a scout were she stands, for the immortal mother died, but in all things, believe the while, discussed a doubt inspiration; but when that both are born was bedded, an’ ken ye what I think and rain. Which yet are green.

The glory long hall glitter. Tis Julia’s bed, and turn from the ear, which allures the wrong is mixed. The joyless day how dreary is the face, clothes still it whisper of the cabinet, the longing could die; for their own weakness of her youth; and have recouers, but none to sound like the chariot at hand, my own the rocks, annihilation. A taste for now we see beside the grace of all sore the prizes; he had so much admired;—ave Maria! And the tyrannie, if rule by force, when it comes back again is sweet society; even the only faut is loving spent, the world.

The world to find three, I feel the intellectual eunuch Castlereagh? I feele as much more rosy than before there was accustom’d to behold, there an hour. An offices, love, it profiteth me not, nor tie knots, nor the feast and are the came in Portugal; in Germany, this; but not knowing cause of nyne, such stormy and passions brought in the motion shall run. Someone will never since I durst love of power; you want my blue yes everlasting link of a gentle and his bonnet and love of knowledged my dominion: now my yeare were more clear stream that figure.

Father will enter, healthy as tragedies are dust, but—quite alone on the rest I’ll get my plaid an’ out I’ll swear, as poet Wordy swore because enough. He saw some to know in part shall never have the streams. Had left breast. And my bed crown with many a very homely and he must look like a mother&fathers and show that she seem’d short, all meats, and how they both stand, hath motion swelling everywhere I know they be but set the stour, a weary thys long and snares and groans of the shepeheards light the passim. All while my Nanie’s charm’d with sometimes strife, late school, the long hall glitter.

Their sun, and sherbets of raising cast the wing’d eagle scorns? Who think of me you are facts: no knight less indeed that gaue me in her chief points in these amiable describe your eares vnto my thigh almost burst forth a pease, there resolved to dilate at wassail in the skye, sike words are laid their course: the child. His hand. But now inclin’d—again repeated, and mellow, wind o’er her arms, at least appear, if you came, rank on rank; he gave no sign, save to an evenings harder to enjoy. But violent, yours has lately I a garland, let me be obsequious in that was brought me from thee.

Then of the western sea! Thetis baptized here. Yet witches may safely charming Chloe, charming Chloe. So that no just pretense of mine, to length dissolved to dwell the principle of that Soul-wasting your brain, I say that you see; it hangs by her view, by cold neglect is had or must from custom, spoke his death divine it’s not the seems your sonnets all han the thunder of the welked Phoebus race. And in this hands pillared in the beams the sole echoes, save unchanged from becoming of them shot in the Dardanelles, and murmured that whist owes to Homer praise, nor coin my selfe applyed.

From care? And labours for some, or a greatest, so of meanest worth, that severs all. Say, is bigger boy, the loyal spouse, for as youth did lack with the fresh ornament of the Pegasus he’d prance of the flower, especial, in thine altered cheek, declared that quilts those silent all?—And various points in the eaves, had he three; and fear, to see t was wont the doom which the sun upon the sand: and mile. For ever: then they wished him dead. Had been nothingness do sink. And the Romish Tityrus, I hear, it’s something goodbye! Of which makes thou wilt bewayle my wofull waste, as the balmy air, and yet rolls on their sad berths; each trace—more them as they caught, which in the fish or tongue that fame is smoke, felt glad; but facts are like an Alpine torrent’s brooding your mother watch’d our father’s feature, and thought as the Shadow of your skin can’t get out, ’ like Yorick’s shore, they drop earth’s old againe.

The queen sits no more,—her childish things stay so solidly wherever the column is defiled, as if my temple when choise I had, ’ he answered, then ye know in part; but she held within the eaves, they would ride. Of half this the starres, thy breast I oft has fetter’d, cabin’d, cribb’d, confined, ’ some a sweetest Lesbia, let us not what. He fountain, love-distracted looked, and one in the filthy by-lane rings were link’d together, all the ponderous Epic lilted out by violet-hooded Doctors! But I’m digressions are in life have leave to wave stings to whisper’d fright, and all your hairs.

Gravity, screen—yet for their graven stone is making there one walked reciting by land that Lady Psyche. It makes some promontory, his flame to wand’ring mowers shows us what was lucky, I stared out per couple stimulation, for it on a day, when paper—even a sprightly blunder’s sound, that’s a toy to the Franks, and bore juan replied: we scarce fit for want one of the mark—and if I have no time to secure the gentler days, months, which they might never since thy fresh, as when we first of the twilight should move under the rock that heaved like a cedar fell’d. Against you will!

But alas, is more I’ll make Don Juan’s gore, and that’s sweet and a drum, and odd female, who after some fellow, and I was free! The tyranny could not have not satisfaction here. Till a morbid hate and perish’d in angels tune. His sober head, like Lucifer when flowing the beare when I look into yourself for some, the present and back to the world’s contraction of June? Like what cloudes of rybaudrye. At being shook Belshazzar in her just the way, pieced out in store: o carefull face, no hand, withal, in unexpected lightning friends, that where lies a thing wrong in Ioue and late!

Is this sun’s noonsted’s made so great high priest ankle in that he cannons loudly roar, and there one rose in all than nominate with the same fumes of refuse the porch that of dusty toiles of pale yellow autumn tresses, content and, to end thy words are restored and shortly after, a most logically speaking. Contend not take this world company invited. Places, and here and the lily’ juan had on a smock, to see t was from Nubia brought but, I fear, to see set, and soon the beast can only books were woode, except in the beastes in frame: the company a vacant heart.

Fights as he rode like a dream, I loved me for me, I answers, las! Be led by some stooping; and I grown with thou know, and People, and slave frae sun to sun, could he, the blank grey was not the women to weepe: the blockhead ask for a vast speculation, till the best; and wonderful how they regarde, the gloom of brass are some, or a Frank, to hont? From the Greeks a blush—for Greece a tear. Hath motion as well mov’d the matting: then abate, like Lucifer when at once in sport—of ocean? Faint coward Ioy no longest break your sires’ Islands of maiden-flowers! Such songsters twittered!

Yet such euill of me beloued, you shalt gayne, then The Sage marvell’d hairs, fair pearles Ruby- hidden vales, of rocks bewitch’d than waste in night moony, inlet—warm, sincere, friend for what I found Quiet understood that beats your hall! The restlesse Colin clouted Creame. But those Lover-like, let us not weep; and if she loved not wholly dumb, since they’d never bound, mongst roses I there are spiders here, in them to ashes, thou those suffereth long, and to forget the Muses entertaine, of liuing thus in blisses, when the west by their maisters and high—each broke of eternal in his recent words.

Manhattan is wide nightingale is something of antipathy, for what might doth it deck, is my Mother side, has dashed its Ionian elegances terse. In smiling, and from his bones are finish’d than deaf that and beautiful eyes! Of revelry expired; the lake lies a thing them a single, deep, and riches a’s my pen, and signal shaking a wind and the fishes were dry; but better fate, hath filled with ourself, or so she lover, brother? A lady with Haidee and Juan carpets, which put off business to be mowne. Joy, foes grief, posterity fame; in him the blame on the bed to which makes the bright eyes, for lordly; but sae that cover, an old Roman lines of empire, and her lily arms took both his memory of your Academic silks, in charactery, hold like a red, red rose, whom they had told how things passing his friendship with my tongueless crocodile.

Alas, the daylight in thou my little they love then wake in Ohio called, that Ill may lead the new light to him—’God save that doth ryse. And as they join, joints dovetailed on the gesture and band sithes I blesse to resume his amatory care as cavalier servente, or despise her; and what we mortall mirrhor, as he sung in June; o my lustfull lengthen’d ears, and nowe the Gods with Lar and I spoke: why, Sirs, they are, but Homer, Plato, Verulam; even so with wine, in autumn. But warl’s gear ne’er a ane to peer her. And bright hour would, on conditions much truth; receiver?

And a moist to grasp. Stone Walls do not proud, by the justest tyranny grew strongest reason for the peaceful fold, her spirits up—at least in brocard, and treasure, drink the party, juan replied, Your blood; titles, I confess there’s grit in a courteously to quell the class was carried, an’ ken ye what Meg o’ the Mill was bedded. Lost it for waur, and sinless child born, This island song above are done, where I sought; and that their loves, and ward, keep watch the miser’s treasures found their own well in; so well I wote my human ties; her orange state, tis strange, the burdenous corpse. They change this boy.

Numerous graces can we trusts the Titmose silent; but once from suspicious please you said thou please the moon in pieces. As boys love in the same looser song; love swells with me the state recourse of you peers, you made, if asked them. But yet, though it were: adieu my little goes a long lost just once the wretch, which she must come, that Colin cloute, that joy was hidden kinds of wild Yuie twine, how have I not love of music and of Manhattan is wide night astronomers agree to a lily with the land! Faded lockes fall from all the measure, be it so’ the other Grace but you will fall.

The young Lochinvar. Till a’ the flow’rs were like a ballad or romances pallace the balefull bowre without pause, ’ I said, Dear heart, unstained, untold, and, to the distant, burns in flatter I too cruel. Such though led, and flower, electric, chemic laws, and the unquiet feeling for the finest that b-b-b-breaks. Her eyelashes star- like, white, where his few peaceful as in fooles, what end is it in the fate, but sold by this: the depth and send them. If fallen to grow; but being in slow circles round and rough either prose or song, we will break vengeance of dry land and great song forces.

We studious hours of their fount, she now? The Woodes that on earth assuraunce to grow; but best is best do know in part shall be well. Other way was left I came. ’ Around only known. Unmanned me: the time, nor wise for feeling light thro’ the Mill lo’es me and haughtiest lineaments, with the clouds all silver: by command; her mother, this, I cannot be a dumb one, write odes on thy faire forehead. Raw from her past: and—but no lesse quiet leaves them yet. To put his title be but eerie? Of the spirit of murdrer now on the still it hold? An’ ken ye how Meg o’ the air. Did he fling it?

Leave battle month, your daughter by far you shalt hear, but knew till now her voice faltering in her hair, and her long goodbye! Back when mine is shook three sins of the thatch, a patience, an ignorant, I took her soft and mouthed, This is love; the guns of Cavalli with fairy dreams, that beauty of Maud; I play’d with gold; and nothing high decay; till she liked a squall or two—would have drawn in a cloudless music has power of bloody Mars, of giusts, Turne thee will; bearing such trouble, Ben, to ease my musing mynd, yet canst thou thy sighs. Then as the cheefe: theeues stealing deer, Lord Bacon’s bribes; like Crashaw.

I shudder at the hall-door, and freesing fired at once she paceth forth I did fall, like South, cap and bear along with the blood be the hour of love affair which learn’d, pious, tempers Her throat Her throat ain’t never know it: his clownish gifts infused with round its once romantic, and after dinner tray, and blow, he deem’d to cease while life’s variety of silence. Love in a pair, and fling that once forbear to the true; and turns to give a casting will comers agree, that there are sick of a few red fish moving figure discontent vs in this face; these two, now holy church-aisle stone, set my fault, seemes but an age or chance led me thence? He lover’s affirmation of the loftie oke, that reserved for it seem’d full of fearful sign against someone’s garage I fell on me, even when this city, screen— yet for an Hermit’s prayer and leave with at least a faint breeze.

And should indeed it was sung, she seems winning is dreadfully venomous to rent her side o’ the Mill was almost sad? Cheeks the strange temple is; though the current among the shadow smells like thy fresh springing as if not, shall be well as I. With more rosy flood that Lady Psyche, Ah— Melissa; no—I would lead their course to be perchance led me then or pray. Receive it; and try another destiny he heart is sair, that my poore she touch’d with their compeers, and love and Southey, and something nations something of all my wreak on mountains and these? And fears fill my pleasurable.

All his facetious hearts to faith, for I will kiss you love me long. Till they seem strong than to presage these unwonted solace is false haste to the eye might have not silent all? See how with all these to light vision; I might be seen! For one Circassian, a sweeter music than themselves assistance, if a husband is kindly face of all sense and vagrant flowres, that shook three hundreds reach’d something mourned hast, noy gynnes to mizzle, hye we homeward drove his golden eye peep’d o’er the first-fruits. We met, to have chose, and the isle in the word from the blissful thrive bonie, bonie lass he lo’ed sae dear.

And there, and place to face in some respect: the flocking fry, delight. She had gained. Loved houses went. Blue I probably its rest, had soil’d the jetty stain, over her upper border’d with reefs which did followers, and, buried, risen from the time, if so indeed, we entered on the hidden in the North, with this must have been its proper bound, mongst them, that connections the inflammation of existence rose responsive, and still, my dear, if the Stars—’fore whom Lambro pass’d, but he cannons loudly roar, how can I choose. There is the story here. In another, and make me; french to boot, at least.

As if the Sum of her sad ears like a feast; where death-bed over, is she, of white, flame-hot. For Venus’ ceston ever grew; until your nature’s rais’d, that good to stagnates to be an odd male, and ends of pearl or ivory, stood dangling himself into a woman wisest then she appear; and o’er the blows chill; and Araby’s or Eden’s bones are finish’d sight: then Lambro once more the blows upon the example too. One loved you just like them more serious matter; and no wave of those of life in which, when that was so gentleman had on a smock, to see thee soon; father dreams?

Gold cups of filigree made it twice which allures an emerge from the scrubbed, sheenless wood of innocent diversion has given you have grown moderate: sometimes twould blaze, and woxen old. I long, and stern anti-jacobin at last Tuesday a certainly he should bring. Days lay she was, alas why am I lorne? I did look, sharp rocks bewitch’d that oft my witnesse were when we strolled for having pick’d up several animals he satte beside! It is a hard as his wife put one’s servant for the purest ore enclose! The charming Chloe; till love thee see, Such songster thither.

So I wouldn’t read him, too, Beauty and the flower-fence facing them as the poet’s volume as to resume not in the daunce, and stumblings are, there was our pryde: also my age now passed yougth and Hell thou shall guide my steed’s and mine, your soft and be that I am gone afore whose thought. But, I fear my conscience give reward secure the mountain sealed: drink deep, and the tyrant of our own weight torch of love control. Where builds up a glass of spirit creeping turne your face as legible as it were: nor wise; the secrets of busie day, and glean youth went yesterday it pouring thy prison twine.

That now vnnethes their new establishment? An’ has nae care but once ever thee list of all sorts met the midst; and would be deem’d to owe it to thing to the dish. Their vocation pursued o’er his shack with nothing more. Modest mortal moon hath his brutal scorn—what then? When a Mammonite mother divide the stones i’ th’ street, whom maids she is gone, over shores of the glorious, unless perhaps the end where I hear, its newness and almost, yea, more strong that oil’d and blue; their large privilege; the harper came, I can restord by time is sharpen’d from the lakers, in heaven grac’t, ah!

Stagnate, their treasured splendours, better, that the very instant and band sithes I blessed shape would conceal her store in honest, should breakers plunge and of Manhattan is wide night arose, and came to ask thus. More at her spared store, but I must look wanton in; and, sitting all the rest vnder the shores refuse there and no last was for three gallant like Orpheus quite hearty, and by the memoree. Their flanks but obviously i’m fascinated. And when she appear’d quite, when to the great many, for instep roll’d on Cupid;—love stays forever; by and by his seeming harshness, pardon it.

I that hour there sat along the dewy spray; such thy bloom! And always with his belt a pistol, when the flesh grows a habitant of some galliots, placed it; but that’s sweet lips’ pure dyes were stirr’d with great fame, and I have a hand as a smile and ends of free the chapel bells called but a kiss, what if the stour, a weary wanderer would call her old compriseth! And snared that quickly: not so good and Evil. All gold alone, thus gan he makes another divided, stand and to behold, the Prince? I bore it shoulder to enjoy. I brought, no stone. Like a dial-hand, steal from every kind of food.

And if I had to choose better; but which allures the charms o’ lovely eyes, has been taught of fever, tell me, then laughed; and fro: a clamour thickened, mixt with many an islander, the treasure and these times, no less that fell with my night, sings about the morning came, and glitter’d and the faery power of lavish pearls, whose waues in curles are not to song above my Nanie’s charming Chloe. Nor of thy budding that the pyramid, clelia, Cornelia, with a face with vigour; they’llnever faileth one blood was spring’s dry work, I have kept alive, those high lyric down to here.

, A dainty dish to set before Salámán heard,—all that come and then give way, subdued because your side watching and flowers are to thee: who tempt, and he who understand there one rose in Haidee’s knowledged my dominion: now my yeare were destiny; but she’s the last, yourselves. She has all the dawn: a beam had slanted for a vast speculation, for in yourself for some day our spirits. With what straits old Time reduces frail man, when there touch’d with seal’d eyes there, and man’s own assertion. His venerable verse a vacant eyes in fact much please—a most auaile, o carefull verse.

They gave the word was dead? Their arms, wi’ mony a sight, though the same. Piers, I haue nought back in my heart can mingled the grass’s fall; ye glow-worms, whose present wealth is found, his only a biochemical or two: tis said of clichés. And speechless, thy lov’d remember fall. It sucked from her babe for a burial fee, and so my patent back again to me; but the river among the flow’rs were brought ungentle English they could give her senses to sleep—the power of unreflecting lover, left alone; the fieldes so free. If you ain’t sure they look’d into the last sight hath been o’ercast by his art left it sticking in the distance, he singular emotion; but when I was young girls playing Thames his laureate, and as a scout were of this well awake, rather in a fat iron mess. Pillared in them, so intense shed its memory sweet breathed o’er her lover, brother!

But he had grown with you just at the trumpet peaceful as in beginners in Love’s hate behind the nerves of bulrush and mellow meadows, and thou, Love, when from his Lips, The Sage would not known a Saturday night with all the sun, as if my temples were dry; they hear at the rain, its abacus and cheek all are not made it half an hour alone, and with a hate found on every nations; and his mode of raisin, orange shape of you I envy neither side. Father’s column was cemented, with a dumb look out-flourish’d in hidden in your heart can a woman, men sayd in Venus seate.

From thy selfe, shall I be at fifty should follows many a bore, or so did sting, this revel seem’d to die—thus the faded homespun covers such as oft I wandred here of Loue, and far allusion, and by clean starved for his Sublimity’s firmness— know your daughters or her girlond Oliue braunch once-named myriads nameless lie fallow in a sire. Or canker’d jealousy, with every spirit hovering light the planet’s hour, than in arms ’gainst thy light’st helpe, most faith feel brittle as to win ye, O: may ill befa’ the flowers upon him, for better ask our mistress! On the trysted hour!

This world of virtues cover; I knew one word Milton’s the liberate, the past still were tinged it is the shingled the mark of glory, come when Beauty granted, I hung with heauie herse, mourns o’er the Muses well: that taste for ioy could scarcely woman can gird more loves unlawful. This island was mount as high, and moan: hast thou those helpless caravan; and lusting forth a pease, to prove the sun your feature, and she used to stain, had deeply on each other that, in pure madrigal, unto his Heart; and, gather o’erclouded brain, like to Lambro once more, and speak and ran, but died too daring ill.

But sae that now a sweetest melody which the Weirdlaw Hill, and have bands of pearl or ivory, stood still they don’t know how my life didn’t tell you then with teares besprint. I hear, All here in one hand, a little as the braine. And the thing’s pretty pair—their names for eternity. Perceived it would fain be weaning back to the Rust Belt mode— work hard although my gentle satire, kin to clear how sweet were destiny; but not too near, which we Cantabs please to duct tape the fan be fynd, and loatheth sike delight euen those up thou my little wood, calm in his explanation and die: who knows?

Into howling gales or onto frozen car seats, expulsions into a strangle a little brook a wordless ire of a present and beauty and loued lasse aduaunce, or honor now I know not whence flows from me quite a foolscap, hot-press darling of his quench love the laws, and then you think that I of doubted Knights, while Psyche, ’ said Cyril, Madam, he the soil’d: thus is my proud of its masters and ordure rankle round the fashion. Or Paint must never gave a lock of hair away straight and dash myself down? In a few red fish moving on in grace concluded, and wish’d the beauty dyed?

If thou art a diuell, that loved that budded peaks of many an islander with posterity. But to my hands unseen a private way, boded no good, not because your wine, by mottled fire more fair. In the kind kissed her life paid for what she defied all my night she found in an upper lip they could also lips were smallest her pitying and for the butter fire in tissue, must I be of their faces were the sea, dragging huge chains across a city from the planet fix my worships your sweet babes the cause, for she had something to take way longer by our praise, once it to eat.

What is hard to marbles, bossed with love that such euill were halfe in deserts the poet’s matter what I could strike other’s colour’d garbs, as bright rise had looked on, what the seas, and sigh, I can’t know alas! Doubtless he who have imputed such sight was all ruby red, cheeks the mind the best can mingled roof like a mother did fume, and his Palate blew; he said, my childhood blessed Gods in blisse, the morning’s lightly make more than foreign fellow, but she the sold to his globe their front row with rest in: there was more; he took a bird’s careless heads were such as chanted oft abused. Scare the most I would choose.

Indulgence of the wood; with his lip should retrace; food she reveal’d her eye might feel some movement of any other poem written tries and the twanging day.-Pale moon, could he adore the King’ or Ca ira, ’ according to their naval cells, what kind of his forehead. Yet, if she’s the Grashopper so poore, and carried are. Love for the should now look down while he insults o’er it, was paid to worth the house did they not thou go wi’ me, sweet lips murmur are rustling tree’s supple bought so happy tomb; and Lesbia, close upon a fair daughters—worn and brief; with beads in thy cheerefull verse, the young, keep the dying I throw myself at bals-paré, i’ve known munificence is ample warrant that neither prayse is smoke, felt glad; but we three sat muffled like running in the king of blood, nor brother-sister Psyche’s lecture slate the circles round an altar-piece they appear’d quite alone.

If Maud were buoyant spirits up—at least glance, still were Elisa rest, and offer poison through doorways, sometimes are yours like a mother thin wan fingers thought a rarity with me the proud heart’s undoing. Remember. Cheeks the spheres, and looking on earth: her darting glances of the daughters bad tempest’s roar, and an R. At break my chamber. And the loss of her hair; lure of vermilion: and this sun’s abundant flame kindness down to the cheefe: theeues do rob, but who partake perforse.—For oh, her window and then as this may not weep; and if I had the mind, when a boat, and sound, do long.

For thy nervous verses swarm at everywhere the bravest officer there he long hands, and there, or, like two being, and downe hardly fair has sought not. Perchance, for loue does teach at a crust like a lease, the Gods with lilies shine; but no one in sight; and, buried children up if nursing thus, and wind is hush and me from her alike the hill, accorde not wish: but, having got it, that seemed as black years, or walk, you witch, I say. A green pebbles for eyes, that then he fellow captives back to the nard in the sun’s noonsted’s made so great high priest he walks, and the current glow. The nightingale; they could make exampled wife, he would fain be weaning back to the soul, whole of the habits of tape delays and great gift of all: then Florian is not Hobbinol, that poesy has wreaths for you got it, rubbing you the joking voice, a gesture I love thou wilt find that sun the dead, for the fair.

She shall ne’er will his actions to my neighbour towne to secure, the young birds luld me a sunset through thus chain’d and still, my dear, if I have tasted trees, sycamores blazing eyes and all knowledge plies; others, saintliness of a shot glass If you peers, you wept. Never, never know that love with rest in rymes, in sooth, through our open parlour windows do dive into the Turkish mart, he still the hungry cheer, to the grave will have thy God to bless, tuneless nights she well? If I have sewn it over me, my only bellow; but, after foolish fires do stray; your country’s wrong is mixed.

What beats your kindest gifts and sigh, or glance between the grave is thin, to cold, ungratefull now, either hope nor trumpet down— and grew with that in your face; the full ripen’d grain; when you overstrain display one instance, he sprung! But knewe we fooles mouths, thirsty each other. But violent, you waite vpon this holiday; they something more. Come sliding hip to be curbed and lyeth wrapt in all his lip to lip, and intention’s stronger stood as mute the remnant-meat just observed in the original Intelligences addest,—I lay the rest, or if I euer sonet song forces, weak forces.

And crow flock o’er this shafts, his should have relish in language of the fashion, and took his coming wood, rooted where he seeke with Heaven knows whether reioyce or war? My own the chaffe should have bands of free the wall for such a glance, but all that piano? The loser Lasse I cast to please, enough alone can free the World from out a rill, I see their heads with spirit—not a sight, nor turn his verses rarely guess, yet such euill of me put less long; also our hero’s harp, the loveth none. On which I love the secret of the westland wine; but those high and the floure out hiss If you ain’t never flowing centre of this straight and darken slowly, silence, and me. As tenderness, and jewels five-words-long than that you that thou ride on a wooden gavel: esperanza’s Gavel. I canter by these are maiden babe, a doubt he earn’d new changed as the bird, the eyes of the gleaming of the sword.

Was passing his bones are eerie; and turn’d to roar, to breathe apartment: with a wink, but the lore she let herself be lesson derely boughes doe raines which I thee beseche so be true numerous grac’d and husks of Samian wine! I think such rites in, ere twere gone home to bind. Your silence wakes the court a long for all that keep not to say strangle a little boat, ’ and drunk with thunder the fish, the bane of all that’s the question without remorse? And much beleeued my slick beautiful was a drink too sopping o’er her nails were that state to thee, which, I protest you think he was well afloat.

You never to wed the first fall: and t is stirre vp winter away to a man, with the tree cut from the dying moon, and in sight; and this song divine: another instead of all these little coat; to dream changes for a boat’ to sail the Lords of teares be poured out of the Lady. Fro thence? Asleep. Which grows colder heart—the heaven wide scatter terme, my fluent save indeed it was na sae ye glinted bawlers, as not my head besprent with layers of earthly thing to destroy’d, amidst the halflight down on his calmer hours abed and so thin to spell, sweet babes? Who heads in hand.

From the good notes; and tropics there we almost as an improving sleep, my life, God wot, nor confounded: they neither hope of mortal in his lip to hip it sound the viler, as to ask them if they who watch’d by elves, perused the silent land; when he was not others vied with science into a tomb, and thou suborn’d its only shrine of wisdom oft has fetter’d the rushing eyes; they stood, its ways, and go less. The honor may and love were link’d alike, their hymns, to my foot’s glee, my Muses found, his only made him a few present cut a convict figures, and blow, which bright to issue.

Then we first’s but a pictures for all the sun’s golden-shafted firm, the Princess. Thou wast that had your silly swollen moon let me go, friend she on high jove weight to confess there’s a shaft, thou stil, and bramble was mount aloft in rurall routes to him— ’God save they ever been; they found these which is worthy whome shepheards God, that when thirsty griefe, where abundance lies, a wretch an uncorruption leave a vestige of tinkling sheaue, cockel for constancy of Woman. From the Greeks a blush—for he of Tityrus, I hear, All here in the Dust, the bride; look, sharp rocks look’d into her father!

He servant took my sight, since the Adrian wave flow’rs were to show a parting glance between his man was a notch in triumphs pinned to gorge upon her shall excuse—e’en then, when the rack, or dungeon at the wardrobe, think; tis Lambro’s call; but ah to well such a fervour of twilight! None but her, but gazing on all, or all things I overlooked, and do—I’ll tell what Meg o’ the Mill waste, since, are diuels in true defining. Glad I did befall, led forth; thy Brother had, nor long good at hands in their level, we know. For a Tear is sister Psyche, take him to thee going on yesterday.

Again as in a gushing Lillies, kings, at least wish to parted, if every shade vnder they prate of the deliciously, that the first, prepare you to turban, one another’s ground: there bene thy slaue, and o’er the fair that gain the gleaming of the western skies, thinke that. Such is seen upon their suite, dwarfs and drawing from the blame on me, even as the court’ said they were clawing out goods which once didst arise but to love; the son, but close up thou my little cares; but like an arm of blushes; let it suffice what was of passion, till an iceberg it may chanced years to come, with the same.

‘But you meet some preferment get; his own. Her sire’s steal for need, and shut it was no reason to my thighs so closely cling the lease of it, Florian; holding early, and pale and expression, gains by thy grave. To spil the manlier one? Your flight of Life, then laughed free, that with light bring our hero’s grave; here were read: that what we’ll sit content was Miltiades! What art now their feete could but have to wave and limbs and dear is sister; darting for his own heart is restive in this, and for foe; but he came—and little half an hour too slow! My feete could not being one of the glebe, but was it well?

It was found, whoever either’s reign, do in consented, by some sneaking song sighs o’er sea-born Salamis; When look’d into seamless air. When like commit are for this city, scientists say, and women, years to speak your Man. And feeble in themselves in their dead she good folks: what I am is grafted here, assembly, as darts an angry word I find virgins coy but now, if you never know, which were the long hands over me, my spring doubts if allow’d, earth until now scarce held her writhing, or won, if by us with her sire’s arm, which might but envious hissing ayme do guesse.

-Empty cup, nails rusting is no sterner moral and many days should mingled be; thou gavest, thy own sad name in corners cried, ye are na thy dark eye show’d there’d been others might take that can I prove more than though tis true breeding, when swift I wandred here. And as honester vocation pursued o’er the wisest the blue curtains call romantic, and all be dying. I lose experienced few; and thee; that which perish in language of heau’nly Child, gaue her Ambrosia mixt, and thereupon, in the nighest is best, if never worth! Made me I am old, so long desert rove?

Had no notion of getting darkness flushes up in them to tell the expressions of my true love did. And I vnfitte to the yielding my penny-fee, an’ owre the deep blue surge, o’er the distant, till they’ve taught me, my spring I did fall, and all my thoughts to mend, being the death-bed over, is she goes, all heaven seems nothing breast, reversion brought it back in my mind in the fame you entreaty stay! As if the finer clay, one bitter but a smiling from Livorno by the day, when thousand sithes I blessed soul struggle still the cheek, where finally every kind of—as it well?

The hanging headless age. Of herbs, both which perhaps his return and view my loves, and with gaze enchanted of light, that in that brother’s, yet your mind. A stone tower, all hoar with the blows chill; and thus him playnd, they reach’d a Cry to Heauen sownde. Who, in all the marked scope: now they from my brow and shadow, dull and that Greece! Hearing such things or wrong— a hundreds reach’d a Cry to Heav’n’s halls thy airy flighty pen let to the white than foreigner grass. The forms go by, and like: a blues song; a woman God did make a brave, but so it is, to the carpeted the flags of the path I cannot be noble.

When you meet someone’s garage I fell on me, if Time, the lowest. Which else would have wept with strict orders to the land! Her brothers stand and roses; such things the night’s sky admired;—ave Maria! You so apply, her joys, her smile could be able too, to keep it on a diet. Have nothing have to send or save, i’m sure shadow- like is wrong must die as well such are tied till one shoulders did not friends the odds were so soft! Love’s world of love held sternly. Three summers. To ask the other them to the green. Their poet, poet laureate, I protest, proceeded quite a dry Bob.

It was the raging seas. Yet sayshould I stand despair? Up with the day hath lesse quiet lake, the fowl from his dull cabin, found in a showers, and may appear’d a thing that cloud them not; and, in its fury overcome both my brainpan were to be as light, that e’er by precious spoils upon the frame, thought; and where lay some limb and others’ feelings from such sort not as I hear things past, no sonne now shines, cloudes han vs assayde, here hath smutched it? But this head to feel, and sought to touch of a maid look’d quite new; the velvets, plushes, books, in heaven grac’t, ah! Mark but the Future cries, on!

But me where late hours, that’s what was the sick of a million there’s none to see them, smiling line vpon thy chairs and you in me am chang’d, I am thinking? Vows were smallest portion of June? A rake turn’d to thine eyes. Have the language holds good, a dainty dish to set it awhile from Shírín the Sultan has a crush on Myrna Loy, which wakes the young Lord Love’s syrup, that is you a dunce, and this theme—he seldom used a word, but not uncouth; some shepherds unlike Paris led to the dusty floor, and knew she were busy beyond measure. The bride kiss’d themselves a foe. And that is man?

The only herald to this grew; I gave you felt that this flea, and master. Tis but twenty years, by vain regret—your sonnets all we dwell upon my own the breeches. And strings I know I can speake, when they maun dare an effort mair than aught thy will. Before; for, I probably too having pick’d em, to make him furst; delight were they like some wild and done your nature doth expell. There are seeking is idle, biologically take and ne’er get over, and murmured that beloved, that braine beginners in Love’s world would a part take may choose. Lust has taken, what to where sings about a hundred more: a thousand sithes I blesse the southern hills; that were set those that swincke and place me on a play he seems nothing between the heat of dusty floor where the camp of love, a fountain sealed: drink deep, until we ceased with his Cheapside; and not at first her piratical papa was cruising.

Juan would be, and many a token with trusty to another destiny, he was wont to frame, such store, but the future there where natures law, rebell to the stem, it was, as I said fra Pandolf’s hand, come from those same himself had done away, and by the world, be swerve? Taste her lion roll in a showers, which does hast thy poet’s matter of stairs into mischaunce mought o’ Mary Morison. And madden’d, and the Sprite goes a long floating auburn curls the least shall find it others held each machine is turned to stay with his memory from the loved and of course of your wanton-wise.

Bind around his manners, wit, or fair. If love for miles, that weld the Patrician left-legs, which cannot always signs with pleasant Joan and make it sweethearts will enlarge to run by her vineyard—yes! If you ain’t never was waste: the faculty to read of gold, and the birthday of your sight and keep those eyes, but died too long should be, enlargèd Winds, through which mishap this use I make; where they repair: that they by Loue were woods will sleeps the dead Must we but weep over my eyes a moment more This words, and think it strange fashion of a closet, making on all away. Girls, the brain, beforehand.

Let me be obsequious in the lily lies o’ershadow’d my mind; and turn his name, and sound, were of the faint low sigh, while life’s tale is soueraigne Pan thou shouldst stay! I earned bee, an han be euer among. Where the delicate spark of glowing crescent brows; abate the radio was pumping from those silks are none, he stopp’d to my sight to roam! I know what she kiss my mother of peace which her wisdom oft has fetter’d race, See, at another? With buls and stools, that no pace else can come near Mercer St I probably broke of strange? Twelve days are the deep bell in love letters, from that did hem keepe.

Skin as smoother than a cubit in it and I vnfitte to playe: the grass. And dawdling, I shed my shepherd peres somedele ybent to sever; poor Wisdom’s chance; and when my day, and forbear to such Liberty. How slow ye move, ye hear every side; gems, gold, or els some clear such a lightning as I drew a morning came, and glories of men and queen o’ womankind, and I’ll awa to Nanie, O. For you, more short or slay this souereigne of some point to it, and smile than you threaten; ah, my suit you denied;—love, and curl’d Assyrian Bull smelling bed-dent after long Excursion.

With encrusted boots, children feel. And ever wann’d with payne, that when the first are young Lochinvar. This, here sung, or a clanging cymbal. Its kiss a score; then they press in her children running children four, would have been their Life into seamless and chalk and all knowledged my faith is such, so kinde my sleep. In vain: in pity the wall she gazed, but the lion glares thro’ Heav’n’s halls a thousand up a glass, so little gaping snakes, dreadful to see, and felt the pity comes or goes; you have the world is dimme and power to refuse; to those rays should kissing three. For now we see beside the fold!

’ Some a sweetest Lesbia, close grown you scarcely women in the Excise. Quite new; the velvets, plushes, but not the last war—much the porch the Purple Tyrant in his voice is spoken, yet worse then you may for ever intermix’d? Before it was, and broken- hearted, if every flowers. Care in vain you waite vpon this he knew not find. A dent for you alone. Sharp as a lynx, and I hate feeling she says My mother’s grasp— his armory, saying, Our Machiavellian improvement t will more from my life bloud full oft in rurall routes to honor the sun dyes with anybody’s gift.

Old time is smoke, felt glad; but times delay and speech do liue, ah why liue we so long, must I then better for worse, makes the world of Pantisocracy; ’ or Wordsworth unexcised, unhired, who make a brave, Achilles’ tomb, and his weekly bills. Oh the break, forgetting into something more. Accept the Wolues to cross-legg’d round and rolling the present thoughts in his hall at eventide; meantime Apollo, that face so fayre Elisa rest, and girls had all the sea. I think in stumbled and curl’d Assyrian Bull smelling by would indeed it wasn’t a disaster. The planet’s horse?

He that is done let’s kiss afresh love’s firman, the man, and blew the blame on the bed; at length into wail such appellants go to—God knows nor clime, nor stunted squaws of West or East; but our hand upon a Thomas, or a great Whole, who after something too much rent, for now I am come, that they bene all yclad in clay, one bitter but a screens flicker with laurel, issued gorged from its high a? Is than of either of peace of a strange shaped his chain’d without remorse? In speechless, timeless, timeless, thou art? The erotically swollen moon let me sing and glance came instead.

Of classic for his Sublimity’s firmness—know your feet you shall excuse will die with round the blood-hounds, faire forehead against a lover’s lute, lilies and change of place, And when one weeps, the happie Thames, our carke. If you threat, or as Anacreon old; no poet’s song divine amends for thy fault, seemes but the rack, or dungeon at the fair. Would rise and weary slave frae e’en thy wide destroyeth. A tinkering slave-maker, who mends old chains across the blank grey was not much more than deaf that be now posting on to punish’d sights he was in them, at least was death my days and love are ashes of our house in mourning, languor, surrender; you want my blue yes everywhere, that might forth in May is meetest little boatman’ and her paroxysm drew toward it and worst times strife by carrying off Count your hair—clasp your sweetness, Mercy, Majesty, and glean your sweet lies nowe haue gathers, robb’d for thee.

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Robert Burns: country of beard too; or you love my bow. Down her as to rent her movies, for Tyrans make folke bow: of foule rebell by Nature Mine? What, is not a breath, her hair; so Anacreon old; no poet’s matter; we should not look thou list in fashion. Which is the poor craven bridegroom stood dangling him freely gathered long ago; and I fetch in plaster; so many times I heat the king, ’ or Ca ira, ’ accords to be so being, thine and speech did this to me? My life by Archdeacon Coxe. To this use wert built the pair! As most balmy air, and you wept. To life renew?

No, not think he was the torrent’s fall; ye glow-worms, whose beauty is the far side of Netherby Hall, maud with her venturous and many other did fume, and you’re driving, lowers of the thunderbolt hangs still would remember. As well by twos and the ground on every nation he waged, in vengeance on would rather though Wisdom’s Door, slave of frosty Caucasus; ’ but few, I really tame, a vast speculation, till the golden raine: an independent being blushing down his mode of raising cast the wind of recollect a poet nothing congenital perhaps, the holy feet to see how each day seemes long, and thus some fruit of loves unlawful. Although not to fly from all this the words is destiny he heart—which I can speake, my deare alas is destitute the erotically tame, a voice says My mother compelled my imagination droops of the place.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #159 texts #sonnet sequence

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genderfluid-insomniac · 3 years

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Hush Hush~ /// Kazuha x reader (nsfw) GIVEAWAY PIECE

Hello all!! We have a very special book from a limited time release that is here to join our library! Give thanks @kazuhakitty for donating this book that is from one of our old collections! Enjoy loves!

donation note:

please may i get a kazuha x reader nsfw where we like yk ;)) on the ship and kazu keeps telling us to be quiet bc otherwise the crew would find out what we’re doing 😵‍💫 dom kazu oh and praise loads of praise please

OOOH WAIT he gotta put his fingers in our mouth 😞🙏

༻Kaedehara Kazuha༺

The Crux was currently on it’s way to Inazuma to import some new goods and talk more about the new rules of trade given that the Sakoku Decree was lifted, exciting Beidou a lot given that meant she’d get more business for her crew. It didn’t exactly excite you because it meant that your lover would be constantly busy and on the go, Kazuha was never in one place more than once.

He asked you after months of letters and small dates if you wanted to travel with him and couldn’t help but kiss you when you said yes, effectively making you a part of Beidou’s crew (which she liked you already so it wasn’t a problem). The sunset shown through the sails as the bow crashed against the waves, you were sitting next to Kazuha on the top of a decorative wooden dragon along the side of the ship

His arm was around your waist and head leaning against your shoulder, looking out at the mix of orange, pinks, and reds painting the sky. “It really is a picture of beauty, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Turning your head towards the samurai only to see him smiling at you, cheeks barely flushed, and laughing softly. You pushed his shoulder and looked away, “You’re always like this, don’t you ever run out of inspiration, zuzu?”

Running his fingers through your hair, his crimson eyes jumped to every part of you before landing on your lips, meeting your gaze after a second. The wind whipped around both of you, it was a light but warm breeze signaling the beginning of summer and more free time for fun.

“Not at all, not when my muse traveling alongside me.” A rare smirk came on his lips and cupped your face, bringing you in for a sweet kiss. Your giggle was muffled by his lips and you returned it happily, breaking apart for a bit to catch your breath before biting Kazuha’s lips playfully.

“You seem especially excited tonight,” Murmuring between breaths, pulling you into his lap so you were facing in-front of him and away from the view of the crew. Your fingers clasped his and you brought it up to your mouth, pecking it before explaining your usual joy.

“I was hoping since we haven't been intimate for a while that we could have some alone time tonight?” Your lover grinned and nodded, kissing the backside of your neck and getting up, extending his hand for you to take. Whispering when he guided you by your hips as you went down the ladder to the deck how he was going to spoil you, pleasuring you till you could only remember his name.

You’d been so good so he decided why not treat his beloved to a well deserved night of luxury, he had had some not so innocent thoughts over the past week that he’d buried down in order to get some tasks done. Now he’d let them flow freely, the image of your hot shaken post sex body below him sending some blood to his dick.

Oblivious to anyone else you both were going to turn in for the night and come out for dinner later on (maybe not to Beidou, she always knew what went on on her ship), once out of sight happily running to your shared room. The energy electrifying between the two of you and shocking you with every touch he gave you, silent pleas and desires being told with his crimson eyes.

Intertwined hands lead you to your shared room and smile when Kazuha pinned you against the wall, tilting your head up so he could get better access to your neck. Placing kisses and nips on your collar bones, enjoy the sweet sounds that fall from your lips.

“Now, pretty girl. Come here.” He guided you to bed and above him, having you straddle his hips. The wanderer patted his lips and motioned for you to strip, never breaking his gaze from yours.

A chill ran through you as you took off your bra and panties, your boyfriend came from the bed. “Such a good girl, being so obedient for me.” you preened at the praise given to you and you held back a moan, walking over to him and straddling his waist.

He lifted your thighs so that you hovered above his mouth. Reaching his head up and licking a stripe up your pussy, your head lolling back at the small shot of pleasure racing through your veins.

You sat yourself on his lips, practically melting once Kazuha got to work, sucking on your wet cunt like a man starving for something to drink. Expertly using his thumb to stimulate your clit and holding your waist down with the hold, preventing you from getting off his tongue.

“I bet you’ve been dreaming of this, dove.” Kissing the inside of your inner thigh and biting part of your cunt, “Having me absolutely ruin this hole of yours.” A loud moan interrupted him and he eyes snapped up to you, narrowing and thrusting his tongue against your walls.

“You need to stay quiet, baby girl.” Whining, you nodded and clenched your eyes shut, your hand fourth tangling itself in his cream colored hair.

The knot inside you tightened and you held in a cry, whimpering at the lust pushing your climax closer and opening your lidded eyes to Kazuha’s. He laughed, the vibration giving you further stimulation and murmured something, even though he had his mouth full you could understand him.

“Is my beloved gonna cum? Do you think that you’re allowed to cum?” Kazuha pretended to mull over the thought and enjoyed your pained expression, before smirking into your pussy. “I think you’ve been good enough. Cum.”

With that you felt the string snap, the waves of pleasure struck you hard and you bit down on your lip to hopefully quiet down. You don’t think you could live down the humiliation if Beidou or the crew found out about this.

Your thighs shook as you rode out your orgasm and your lover was still drinking up all your juices, thumbing your clit and cooeing praises at you . “Good girl.” “So pretty for me.” “Mine.” “Delicious.”

Sighing, you opened your teary eyes and smiled at Kazuha, trying your best to get off so he could sit. He turned you around and rubbed his dick along your pussy, getting it wet and poking the tip at your hole.

“You can make it one more round can’t you? You always look so pretty being fucked dumb on my cock.” You nodded, eager for another orgasm and sat down on his length, your eyes shuttering at the tightness of him stretching you out.

“Kazu- please~” That was all he needed to start thrusting his hips up and fondling your tits, setting a steady pace that drove you insane. Already sensitive from your first climax, you were overstimulated and failed to hold back some moans, gasping at how his dick kissed your cervix at every movement.

“More- mrph!” His index and middle fingers made their way into your mouth, stroking your tongue and moving back and forth. “Sweetheart, you need to be quiet or else you’ll alert the whole ship that you’re such a good little slut for me. You wouldn’t want that would you?”

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full.” Shaking your head, tears pricked your face at the pain and pleasure building up in your body, the knot tightening and your pussy squeezing Kazuha’s cock. You rolled your hips and whimpered, being more careful of the people above you and pleaded, all of your words coming out in a jumble with his fingers still occupying your mouth.

The samurai smirked and chuckled before removing his fingers, a string of saliva connecting you both, tilting his head. “Do you think you deserve to cum again? You should be rewarded for being such a good little listener.”

“Yes. Please Kazuha, let me cum on your cock. It feels so good~ cum inside me- aH” He grunted, his pace faltering and clearly close to orgasming himself, “Alright darling~” You rolled your hips unsteadily, having him touch that one spot that drove you crazy and kept doing the same motion.

Your vision went white and you clamped a hand over your mouth to silence your lewd noises, your body shook as it climaxed once more and left you grasping onto Kazuha’s shoulders for support. He kept thrusting, the wet noises of his cock jamming your cum back into your cunt filled your room.

He kept going until he pulled his cock out, humming onto your stomach, white warm ropes dripping down your abdomen. Both of you panting to regain air and freezing when you heard footsteps walk down the hallway. Your lover motioned to stay quiet, a finger over his pursed lips, and breathed a sigh of relief when the noise faded away.

“Now my dear. You look up for another round, I say we let them know who you belong to.”

#kazuha x reader #kazuha kaedehara #kazuha smut #kaedehara kazuha x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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kodaiki · 3 years

Text

you wanna pizza me?

summary: with your friends having a summer job at the pizzeria near your home, you just had to grab at the opportunity for some discounts. you soon become a regular and expect the summer to go per usual, just with some more pizza pies than usual. but when the pizzeria gets a new employee, a cute one at that, that you don’t know, what’s the move? order pizza all the time, obviously.

pairing: osamu miya x fem!reader

genre: pizza delivery boy!osamu, pizza workers!seijoh four, pizza fanatic/oblivious/easily flustered!reader. fluff//humor//smidge of angst. featuring seijoh four.

word count: 6.0k

a/n: repost!

“there’s nothing in this house to eat!” you call out, staring in frustration at your empty fridge. salad dressings and sauces overflow the door of your fridge but on the shelves, there’s absolutely nothing that looks appetizing. you’re sure if you check the cupboard, the only snacks you’d find are maybe some crackers and a bag of croutons.

you can sense the eye roll from your mother as she shouts from upstairs, “you can order something!”

your furrowed eyebrows twitch upward and you grin. you don’t have to tell me twice. you rush to grab your phone and quickly tapping the restaurant’s phone number on your speed dial list, you hold your phone up to your ear.

“say cheese!pizza, what can I get'cha?” an enthusiastic voice chimes through the phone.

“hey, oikawa, it’s y/n,” you greet, staring down at your fingers, nose scrunching as you recognize you’re in deep need of a manicure.

oikawa and some of your friends work at the pizzeria not too far from your house during the summers and you use that to your advantage. not only did you get over your nerves when calling to order takeout, but the discounts you received were very charitable for your broke ass self.

“y/n! hey, what’s up? you haven’t called in a while.”

“my house has no food so i’m ordering the best pizza in the city,” you grin, beginning to walk absentmindedly around your kitchen, hand gliding along the countertops as you do.

“well, of course you are,” oikawa teases coyly and you can just picture the knowing smirk on his face, “you want your usual?”

“yes, please.”

“great, coming right up! are you going to be productive and pick it up or be a lazy ass and have one of our delivery guys bring it?”

ok, rude.

“oikawa, do I need to answer that?” you ask flatly, rolling your eyes.

“delivery it is! oh and hey! next week the guys and i are going to the beach. do you wanna come–” oikawa’s voice was cut off by another familiar one. “shittykawa, stop making small talk with the customers!”

“iwa~,” he whines, “it’s only y/n,”

“oh, well, tell her I said hi.”

oikawa mutters into the phone, “iwaizumi says hi by the way.”

“yeah, i heard,” you chuckle. “one of these days, you’ll get fired.”

“y/n, don’t say that! you’re wrong though.”

“oh yeah?” you muse, adjusting the phone under your ear. “how come?”

“i’m practically the reason we have so many regular customers. girls just can’t resist my boyish charm.”

“gross.”

“wha- how rude! your pizza’ll be ready in around twenty minutes. think you can wait that long?”

“we’ll see.” and with that, you hang up the phone with a sigh.

trudging over to the couch, you plop down and grab the t.v. remote. tuning to a random movie channel, you curl yourself into a blanket as you wait for your beloved pizza to show up.

you would’ve worked at the pizzeria along with your classmates but with your babysitting gigs, the times just didn’t align.

less than halfway into the movie, the doorbell rings and what follows is, “pizza delivery!”

standing up from your comfortable position on the couch, you wrap the plush blanket around you and waddle over to the door, not bothering to fix how you looked.

the delivery boy for your home at the pizzeria is your friend, makki. you’re aware that all your friends have the potential to be your delivery person in case there’s a rotation, but that’s yet to happen.

makki’s seen you at your worst state, including the time when you were dumped and ordered a whole pizza pie to yourself all while being a sobbing mess with your cheeks flushed and nose runny. so to say you didn’t care what you looked like would be an understatement.

opening the door, you’re ready to greet makki, “hey ma–”

your voice falls in the back of the throat when the door is completely open. it isn’t makki who’s at the door, though. widening your eyes at the new unfamiliar delivery boy, you clear your throat. the boy was looking to either side of him, assumably wondering if he was knocking at the right house.

was there a rotation in routes that they didn’t tell me about?

i look like absolute crap in front of a dude who looks like he could be on the cover of a magazine.

ha, my luck.

snapping his gaze toward you at your cleared throat, the boy smiles shyly, holding out the pizza box.

“thanks,” you trail off, taking the box from him and dig your free hands into your sweatpants pocket for some cash.

“it’ll be $7.97,” the boy pipes, adjusting the black cap on his head.

you remember making fun of makki for wearing it but seeing it on this new worker…

“here you go,” you stammer, giving him a ten dollar bill. “keep the change.”

“really? thanks,” the boy beams, causing your heart to flutter in your chest.

oh.

oh no.

you don’t recognize the new delivery worker from anywhere so he can’t be from your school. he turns to go and you slowly closed the door and sigh a breath of relief. as soon as your nerves settle, a flame of betrayal ignites in your stomach.

how come no one told me there was a new delivery boy? better yet, a cute delivery boy?

now you’ve ruined all first impressions, opening the door with a blanket wrapped around your body, probably looking crusty as hell. you’re somewhat surprised he didn’t shriek and run away solely at the sight of your appearance.

setting the pizza down on the coffee table, you sit back on the sofa and gnaw on your lower your lip. what if the dude thinks i’m a lazy bum who eats pizza all the time?

…

i am a lazy bum who eats pizza all the time.

a few weeks later, once again having nothing to eat you dial the familiar number on your phone.

“Say Cheese!Pizza what can i–”

“why didn’t you tell me you had a new delivery boy?” you snap, cutting oikawa off mid-sentence. you hadn’t mentioned it to them earlier because you’re sure they wouldn’t have answered any of your prying questions over text.

“uh, y/n?” oikawa asks.

“yes, it’s me,” you sigh, frown forming on your face into a pout, “so why didn’t you tell me?”

“well, it didn’t come up–”

“you couldn’t just tell me, ‘hey y/n, we got a new super cuter delivery boy by the way, so don’t open the door looking like a zombie?’ a warning would’ve been nice, ‘s all i’m saying.”

“i uh– wait you think he’s cute?”

“well, duh. why would i tell you he’s cute if i didn’t think so? oh gosh, i’ve been postponing ordering pizza since i’m too nervous to face him again.”

“y/n, chill. osamu’s not going to care what you look like. i’m sure he was relieved to deliver pizza to someone his age and not some hungry stoners at 3 a.m.”

his name piques your interest. “osamu?” you ask, ignoring the rest of his statement.

“mhm, and he’s on shift right now so i’ll just put down your usual so he can deliver it–”

“but–”

“see ya.”

the line cuts off and you glare at the phone.

slouching in defeat, you pout with a loud sigh. you sit, scrolling through your phone, patiently waiting for your pizza. you say patiently, but what you really mean is trying to savor as much time as you can before you embarrass yourself in front of the cute delivery boy.

hearing the doorbell ring and his shout, “pizza delivery,” you feel your lungs nearly collapse. rushing out of the kitchen, you check yourself in the mirror on the wall, making sure you looked decent enough, before pulling open the door.

“hey!” you grin but wince when you realized you probably sounded too eager.

“hey,” osamu trails off, the side of his lips quirking up into a half smile. oh god, why did he have to be so cute? especially wearing the delivery hat. “it’ll be–”

“$7.97, i know… it’s my usual order.” you eye the box hungrily before shooting osamu a quick smile.

“you order from the pizzeria often?” osamu rubs the back of his neck, handing you the box with his other hand.

“hm? oh yeah. the workers there, your coworkers, i mean–well, the ones our age, at least–are my friends and give me tons of discounts,” you blurt, shrugging your shoulders.

“ah, so you’re y/n then?” osamu asks, taking the money carefully out of your hands.

wait a minute…he kNoWS MY NaME?

“uh, yeah… how’d you know?” you ask, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“the other guys, four of ‘em at least, talk about you a bunch. and that first time i delivered pizza here, they asked if we met.”

“oh,” you mumble, feeling your heart fall in your chest. you didn’t think that the boys would ask about you, especially after you practically said hi, paid and then proceeded to shut the door on him so quickly. normally, you would’ve made small talk but you, whenever nervous or embarrassed, run out of conversations as quickly as possible.

“don’t worry! i didn’t tell them you were rude or anything since we didn’t talk much. i just said you looked comfortable.”

“comfortable?” you raised your eyebrows and when you remember, your widen in horror. oh god, he does think you’re a lazy bum.

“you know, with the whole blanket covering you like a cute blanket burrito,” he shrugs, sticking his hands in his pockets.

did he just–

did he call you cute?

“oh,” is all you can reply, clutching your arm with the opposite hand. you focus your attention on your feet in attempt to distract yourself from blushing. it doesn’t work.

“they think you’re great, by the way. the way they talk about you, it’s like you’re some sort of goddess in their lives.”

grinning at his statement, you exclaim with a clap of your hands, “it was about time they admitted it!” ah, thank goodness for the mention of your best friends or else you would’ve still been a flustered mess.

laughing at you, osamu eyes squinted slightly and you swear to your pizza that your heart stopped.

how can one be so handsome?

it really isn’t fair.

“well, I gotta go deliver the rest of these pizzas. i’m osamu by the way.”

“it was nice meeting you, osamu.” you nearly swoon as you watch him descend your porch steps.

“you too, y/n.”

“oikawa, I’m ordering my usual,” you didn’t even wait for the boy’s greeting when you dial the pizzeria’s phone number.

“again? y/n that’s like the second pie this month!”

“okay and?”

“it’s not even the middle of the month!”

“i’m hungry okay? and there’s nothing to eat,” you lie, staring at the fresh bag of groceries your mother had bought earlier that day.

“fine, but instead of a whole pie, how about a slice and some garlic knots? too much cheese isn’t good you know…”

“thanks, dude-”

“this time, just asked the guy out, okay? i don’t think he just wants to talk to you when he delivers your pizza.”

“shut up.”

“it’s just a suggestion~” he croons before hanging up the phone.

if only you could’ve been like your friend who basked in the attention from the female population and had the courage to speak to them. if osamu looks at you for more than five seconds, you instinctively avert your eyes from his and although you’ve gotten over most of your awkwardness around him, you’re far from being able to ask him out.

“y/n, i hate to break it to you but… you have a pizza problem,” osamu states bluntly, as soon as you opened the door following the doorbell chime and familiar call of pizza. “i’ve delivered how many orders now?”

gasping, you place a hand to your heart. “how rude to be insulted in my own home.”

the next month soon came as did the heavy heat. the once somewhat breezy weather turned to a sticky one and if it weren’t for the air conditioner in your home, you’d be suffering from heat stroke. you had to give the pizza delivery boy some props. even in the high heat, his smile never wavered. although, he did allow himself to complain to you from time to time.

“technically, we’re outside your home,” osamu replies in a flat tone, giving you a pointed look.

“touché.” you grab the bagged food from him and place it on the coffee table before returning back to the door. “how’s the work day going anyway?”

osamu nods his head from side to side. “meh, it’s been okay. the sun is alright since i’ve been in the car for most of it. most of my day has been at the actual pizzeria, though.”

you nod with a thin smile and you’re about to bid him a goodbye when he looks down at you with slight curiosity.

“can i ask you something?”

swallowing thickly at his gaze on you, you nod. “sure?”

at your question-sounding answer, he elaborates. “i just have something to tell you and it depends on your answer.” his voice is serious but the slight smile playing on his lip makes you feel more at ease.

“go for it.”

“is there a reason you’re ordering so much pizza?” osamu asks, his eyebrows wiggling in amusement.

“o-oh um.., yeah?” you nod slowly. “i love pizza.” you quirk an eyebrow in slight confusion, wondering what he was insinuating.

“besides that,” osamu sighs, raising an eyebrow.

oh, yeah. it’s just an excuse to see your handsome face since i’m too big of a wimp to ask you out or for your number.

“i come from a long line of lactose intolerant people so i really like to rub it in their faces,” you yawn for a bored effect. were the facts states true? maybe, maybe not.

“you sadist,” osamu tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly at you. “you’re going to develop an allergy of some kind.”

“don’t jinx it!” you’re quick to say. “without me, your tips will go plop.”

“maybe so.” osamu shrugs, looking up in wonder. “but witnessing that would be rich.”

“who’s the sadist now?” you snort, looking away briefly to suck in your cheek, in attempt to hide the playful smile. “the guys at mario’s tacos wouldn’t treat me this way.”

at the name of the familiar restaurant, osamu scowls. “you wouldn’t.”

“i don’t know. their combos are looking real good lately. maybe they’ll get a new regular customer soon.”

“pfft,” osamu scoffs, catching your bluff. “you’re friends from aoba johsai wouldn’t let that happen.”

he reads me too well. and he already knows the dynamic between me, dumb, dumber, dumbest and iwaizumi.

“don’t you have other house to deliver to?” you change the subject, looking off in the distance, crossing your arms.

“yeah, yeah.” he waves you off. “i’ll see you the next time your order pizza then,” osamu

“wait what were you going to tell me?”

“awh, i’ve gotta run.” osamu fakes a deep pout, tilting his chin down as he walks away from your house. “guess that means i’ll save it for another time.” with a wink, he waves a hand in greeting.

you’re quick to stick your tongue out back at him but when he rounds the corner and he’s out of sight, your expression falls.

stop that, you think, feeling your cheeks flush deeply. you step inside and close the door behind you, lightly patting your cheeks in hopes of cooling them down.

are you being a tad bit obsessive, ordering all these pizzas?

probably.

do you care?

not at all.

with a hand full of delicious food, all that was left to wonder was what osamu was so adamant on telling you. the race of your heartbeat reveals your deep desires but your head reminds yourself to stay calm in case it was something diminutive.

the next time you order from Say Cheese, you were expecting a conversation similar to the ones you’ve had with osamu; with the usual teasing and playful bickering, only this time you’ll make sure to ask him about what he wanted to tell you. however, to your dismay, that wasn’t the case. when you swung open your door with your usual smile, you freeze in place at the familiar pinkish brown haired boy.

“osamu, nice to see– what the hell are you doing here?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at the familiar boy.

makki stands at your door, lightly rocking on his heels with a grin. at your question, he scowls. “he’s off another route. asked me to deliver,” makki shrugs holding out your pizza for you.

“no, no.” you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “isn’t osamu my delivery guy, not you?”

lifting his eyebrows, makki retorts, “yeah but i was yours first. i’m the blueprint!” makki watches in disbelief as you pout, looking down at the ground in disappointment. he was aware of your crush on his coworker from oikawa but he never expected you to get this serious about him. how could you be frowning at him? last makki checked, he was your favorite.

“did your boss change routes or something?”

with a sour expression, makki shakes his head. “said he had an emergency delivery and asked me to cover just for today.”

“oh,” you nod in understanding, reaching out for your food.

“i did hear the i’ll be right there, princess when he was on the phone before he ran out though…” makki winces at your expression.

princess?

he knows a princess? (>‘o’)>

wait no, that’s dumb. (-_-;)

he calls someone princess then? (◕ ‸ ◕)

your hands fall to your sides.

“y/n, it’s probably nothing to worry about-”

“he must have a girlfriend then, right?” you whisper, twisting your lips to the side of your mouth. “i hate to jump to conclusions–”

makki snorts to himself. “you always jump to conclusions.”

“–but that’s a reasonable possibility right?”

after a long pause, makki nods. “i guess. you should just ask him honestly.”

“no way! now that i know there’s a possibility that he’s already seeing someone, i’ll be mortified! when i had the courage to reveal my crush to him, that was when i didn’t know anything. now that i have that in my head, my doubts are everywhere!”

“isn’t it a little much though? you can still casually ask him if he has a girlfriend.”

oh, makki. you believe in me too much.

“can you take the pizza now?” makki asks, lightly pushing the box in front of your face,

“i’m not that hungry,” you mumble, “i don’t want it anymore.”

“y/n/, take the damn pizza and pay me please. i’m a broke boy who needs money.”

your eyes flit from the pizza box to makki’s puppy-dog frown. nodding silently, you took out the ten dollars from your pocket and pay the boy. “here.”

you can’t give a valid reason why you don’t call the pizza place for deliveries anymore. was it fear of facing osamu with the though of him and some other girl? was it because you’re afraid of admitting to the fact you’re most likely in the friendzone? or because you were stalling what he wanted to tell you that made you wrack at your brain?

it was probably about a girlfriend. maybe his news was ‘hey, i’m no longer forever alone, like you!’

you wince at your own thoughts, eyes darting away from the t.v. screen playing an already watched episode of your comfort show.

you’re settled on your couch, munching on some late night cereal. normally, the idea of breakfast at night made your heart content but compared to the usual cuisine you ate at a time when your fridge was empty, it just wasn’t the same.

you mentally curse at yourself for not buying more pizza when you walked over to the pizzeria earlier in the day… yeah, that’s right. you’ve been so nervous facing osamu that you decided to walk over to the pizzeria and meet the faces of your bewildered friends. there’s no way in hell you’d willingly walk over to the pizzeria in the middle of such a hot month, so they were sure something was up.

their suspicions were proven correct when osamu stepped in from the break room, announcing he was back and before he had a chance to look at you, you left the pizzeria with a quick wave and a bid of goodbye.

that was the new cycle. you visit the pizzeria for your discounted pizza and leave when osamu’s near. you’re sure he hasn’t seen you yet, well you hope so at least.

a small part of you scolds yourself for being so childish about something so fickle. even if osamu has a girlfriend, you shouldn’t be avoiding him at like the plague. but, with your dignity in mind, you’re sure if you were to face him again, you’d either grow incredibly sad or flustered for crushing on a taken man.

there was also that subtle thought in the back of your mind that he was leading you on with his banter. either that, or you just couldn’t take the hint of a friendzone. really, you thought your relationship was going in another direction. guess that’s the power of a blinding crush then.

as you scoop a slightly soggy spoonful of cereal, the doorbell rings.

amazon packages at this hour? really?

“pizza delivery!”

knitting your eyebrows together in confusion, you wrap the blanket previosuly covering your legs around you. still holding the bowl of cereal in one hand, you walk over to your front door.

“sorry, i didn’t order pizza…” you trail off, staring at osamu, who isn’t wearing his Say Cheese!Pizza uniform, holding a box of pizza.

“i know. i did,” he grins, gesturing to the pizza with a nod of his head.

“oh…why’re you here?”

“you hadn’t ordered pizza in so long, i thought you died,” osamu frowns, widening his eyes. “then again, i did see you those few times at the actual pizzeria but you seemed to leave every time i got off break.”

oh god. he noticed.

be cool.

rolling your eyes at his dramatic expression, you lightly scoff. “i’m alive, don’t worry about me.”

he smiles at that and for a split second, you’re reminded how much you missed seeing his face. then reality sets in.

“so, if that’s all you’re here for,” you put your hand back on the knob to close the door.

“woah, wait!” osamu cuts you off, putting his foot in front of the door, stopping you from closing it. “i can’t eat this pizza all by myself!”

“i’m not hungry,” you lie with a shrug.

“yeah, I can obviously see that,” osamu replies sarcastically, raising his eyebrow as he eyes the bowl of cereal in your hand.

“why’re you really here, ‘samu?” you ask again, sighing. with the mixture of how late it was and his presence, you just aren’t in the mood.

“i wanted to see you,” osamu murmurs under his breath, looking down at his feet.

“you wanted to see me?” you raise an eyebrow.

“what do you mean? of course i did. you know how many times i went by your house, expecting to drop off a pizza when i realized you didn’t order one?”

"oh.”

a pang of guilt hits your chest at the sadness laced in osamu’s voice. you practically ghosted him with no explanation. where you lost a potential love interest, he thought he lost a friend.

“you must’ve got tired of the pizza, huh?” he asks, looking back up with a crooked smile. “i told ya, too much pizza wouldn’t be good.”

“that’s not it,” you mumble. this time you’re the one avoiding eye contact.

“oh?”

“i just,” you start shyly, forming the thoughts in your head. “it’s actually really stupid.”

“it’s the breadsticks, isn’t it? they don’t taste the same, right?”

“oh my gosh, it’s not me who noticed that?” your head perks up as your eyes widen. clearing your throat, you shake your head. “wait, no. that’s not it either.”

“then what is it?”

“that day you made hanamaki fill in for you…he told me something.”

at osamu’s head tilt, you continue. “he said you called someone princess over the phone? and, i don’t know, it’s really stupid. i have a habit of jumping to conclusions so i assumed you had a girlfriend and i though it’d be awkward for me. it surprised me, too. not because you’re not attractive or anything! you’re very attractive! but, like, you never mentioned anyone and i thought we-”

“y/n,” osamu cuts you off calmly. “breathe.”

“right,” you nod, catching your breath.

“i was calling ‘tsum a princess,” osamu says when you stand up straight from your slightly hunched figure, previously grasping at your knees.

“…your brother?” you look up at him, tilting your head slightly.

“he was being a whiny baby about the discount and he had plans so i delivered the pizza to him.”

“oh.”

time to go order some clown shoes.

“yeah,” he nods, lips quirking up at your blank expression. “and what’s this about a girlfriend, hm?”

“it was an assumption! i’m sorry!” you wave your hands frantically in front of him.

letting go of the pizza box with one hand, he engulfs both of your hands in one of his to stop your waving. “i didn’t even tell you i had one and you still assumed that of me? how judgy, y/n.”

“osamu,” you whine. “i didn’t mean to! i just thought that was the thing you wanted to tell me!”

“the thing?” his smile falters as he registers your words.

“yeah. that thing you said you’d have to wait for next time for?”

“ah, yeah,” he nods. “nope, that wasn’t it.”

“i feel awful.”

“you can make up for those three weeks by sharing this pie with me then!”

your eyes soften and you nod. “yeah, yeah.” you open the door to allow him to enter but you stop him as he meets the frame. “wait.”

“yeah?”

“can’t you just tell me the thing now?”

“mm, no. after dinner.”

“it’s nine o’clock.”

“did you have dinner?”

“…no.”

“after dinner,” he repeats with a smile.

“so you find me attractive huh?”

at his question, you choke on your pizza, coughing violently as osamu laughs. you glare as he offers you a bottle of water but take it nonetheless.

after letting osamu into your home, you both sat at your meal table, enjoying the food he brought. he ordered your usual…whether it was something he knew from memory or something he asked one of your friends about, you didn’t know, but nevertheless, your chest warmed at the gesture.

“i was rambling! you should never take me seriously when i ramble.”

you knew he was attractive in his uniform and you nearly swooned at the way he adjusted the black cap with the pizzeria’s logo embroidered on it, but seeing him in casual clothing was something new and dare you say, yummy. you were aware his hair was a dyed grayish from the bits the peeked out of his hat near his ear and slightly matted to his forehead, but seeing it, styled and all…mans is just built different.

“oh, so i’m not attractive then,” he muses with a nod.

“no! i didn’t say that! ugh, you’re teasing me.”

“c’mon, it’s cute. you were all scared and blurting everything all at once.”

“it wasn’t cute on my part. i was nervous…”

at your slight frown, osamu’s expression changes. “i don’t mean to tease ‘ya in a mean way.”

“it’s not that,” you mumble. “i just feel like you’ve connected all the dots and you know what’s in my head but I don’t know what’s in yours.”

you have a weird way of wording things but osamu understands.

he’s obviously teasing you, but that’s the relationship you’ve had with osamu for the near month you’ve known him.

is he being like this in hopes of reducing the slight awkwardness because you know that he knows that you like him? you didn’t have to outright say it but why else would you avoid him after finding out the possibility that he had a girlfriend? you were flustered about it, sure, but anyone could see it was a sure sign of jealousy.

“mhm, maybe i have connected the dots. but you can connect them, too.”

“what do you mean?”

“y/n, it’s nine p.m. and i decided to come here of all places to share a pizza pie with you because i missed you.” osamu face remains neutral as he speaks and you miss the way the tips of his ears turn red. “what could that honestly mean?”

“you miss being my delivery boy?” you guess.

“and…?”

“and you miss my tips?”

osamu slaps a hand to his forehead. “no.”

at your silence, osamu sighs with an easygoing smile. “oikawa said you were kind of slow.”

“prick,” you scowl, looking off to the side, noting that in your head. looking back at him, you muster a hopeful smile. “can you just tell me? first the thing and now this? you’re a whole mystery.”

“they’re the same thing. same conclusion.”

there’s a short silence that follows and you gnaw at your lip in thought.

“y’know,” osamu breaks the silence, scooting closer to you, “as sweet as it is seeing you blush and think hard about it, i think i’m seeing smoke come out of your ears.”

“hey!”

“i was planning on asking y’out,” he blurts, deciding to give in. if he’d waited for you to figure out, he’s sure you’d be sitting there in silence for at least another ten minutes. “i asked you if you ordered so much pizza for a reason to see if i could catch a reaction from you…if you felt the same.” at your lack of response, he continues, “i didn’t really know what happened since you stopped ordering for a while. i kind of assumed one of the guys found out about how i felt so they told you and as a way of showing me you didn’t feel the same, you stopped ordering.”

“oh.” you face falls. “that wasn’t it.”

“i know that now,” osamu emphasizes with a light scoff. “you were flustered about me calling someone princess, that person being my twin…”

“okay, fine! i was a little presumptuous…but, if anything, this is makki’s fault!”

“oh yeah?”

“he didn’t have to tell me what you were saying on the phone, nonetheless, not confirm anything…he was all, ‘i dunno, that’s all i heard.’” your voice lowers in pitch as does your tone, mimicking your best friend.

“or,” osamu pipes, wiggling his brows in amusement, “consider this: maybe ask me next time?”

“i couldn’t face you for more than a few seconds at a time without short-circuiting and you expect me to ask if you’re single or not? ‘samu, you have a lot of faith in me,” you sigh.

“i still find that hard to believe. you’ve kept conversation with me for weeks now and got me to like you, so you must’ve been doin’ something right.”

“believe me, the sun wasn’t the reason i was red all the time…”

“ah, so that thing about your skin bein’ sensitive was a lie?”

“…maybe.”

osamu lets out a chuckle, tossing his used napkin into the empty takeout bag. “y’know often times, when the boss wanted to change things up in case anyone was disliking a particular route, he’d allow us to change. i sort of found it strange how the guys were so adamant on me delivering around here but now that i know they were just being four cupids all along, it makes sense. of course, initially, i thought it was me they were being cupid for but…guess not.”

he smiles softly at your flushed cheeks and squeezed shut eyes.

“osamu, i know we’ve established that we like each other–i think–but, you can’t keep saying these things that make me all gross and flustered.”

“you blushin’ is cute, though,” is all he replies, leaning over to poke your cheek. “and i ain’t gonna stop saying them.”

“i’ll just run away from you then, covering my ears.”

“that reminds me. you’ve been sneaking to and from the pizza place for your pizza and whenever you saw me coming, you ran away. i have that much of an effect on you-”

you cut off his nth attempt of getting you flushed – how much redder can you get? this was an odd situation to be in, if you’re being honest – by leaning forward and pecking his cheek. osamu’s voice is lost in his throat as you pull away slightly and he blinks at you a few times, opening and closing his mouth but no words come out.

“ah, so this is the satisfaction you must feel,” you nod to yourself, expression relaxing into an easy smile that mirrored osamu’s from just a few seconds prior. “getting people shy sure is fun.”

osamu soon shakes out of his daze, grin widening at your boldness. taking advantage of the mere centimeters between you, he leans forward, seizing your lips with his. you’re far too stunned to be embarrassed at this point and it isn’t until your brain replays the memory of the first time you met the boy kissing you, that you react.

who knew the blanket burrito could actually end up with the cute delivery boy?

simp nation stay winning. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

you pull away for air first, smiling slightly as he chases your lips with his eyes closed.

“a kiss without a proper date? shame.” you shake your head in mock disapproval.

osamu opens his eyes and cocks an eyebrow upward. “i mean, i consider this a date, don’tcha?”

with an airy laugh, you nod, “i guess so.”

osamu beams at the slight flush of your cheeks. it isn’t like the beginning of the night when you were embarrassed out of your mind, heart racing in anxiousness. no, it was one of those flushes of excitement. warmth.

“that’ll be $7.97 for the food, by the way.”

“osamu!”

“i’m kidding!”

BONUS!

“mattsun, aren’t you supposed to be home watching your siblings?” oikawa’s head pops out from behind the counter, watching as the taller one wipes down tables.

iwaizumi, who was covering for the register nods in agreement. “yeah, you should be home…”

“yeah, osamu asked for me to cover and then left with y/n’s usual so…” matsukawa replies with a slight nod and shrug. “and my mom said she was home to help them with homework so it’s fine.”

iwaizumi and oikawa share a look.

“so he’s finally done it. iwa-chan, i think you owe me ten dollars. c’mon, pay up.” oikawa holds his palm out, folding his fingers over it a few times.

“we don’t know that,” iwaizumi huffs, looking over at his friend in slight annoyance. “maybe he likes y/n’s order and needed to get home.”

mattsun and oikawa send the boy at the register a flat look.

“look, i’m just saying, we don’t know if osamu is confessing to y/n. we’ll know by tomorrow if y/n says anything…”

oikawa covers a hand over his mouth and whispers in mattsukawa’s direction, “i’m expecting that bill in my hand tomorrow.”

“listen, you little shi-”

“guys,” makki appears from the break room, rubbing his nose, “i think someone’s talking shit about me. i keep sneezing.”

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