#but then they grow fond of jessie and jessie of them and they turn into a very odd and dysfunctional found family | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unknownjpegs · 5 months

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siblings

When they emerge from the car, they are so obviously Xavier’s sisters that it makes his heart crack open. To see himself, reflected in their pale, freckled faces, that shade of red that is so uniquely them. He feels instantly like the world has been put on the correct axis, is spinning the exact way it should. Him there, and them here. Seeing Theresa and Jessica make his arms swing open immediately, an unconscious effort that is purely, hug me, I love you.

And both of them oblige, laughing as they’re scooped into his arms. As he peppers kisses over Jessie’s face and shakes Tess’ shoulder with nothing but affection. They all laugh that same, that big smiling laugh. They have to unwind a little from each other, all three having the same gangly long limbs.

“Did you enjoy the show?” He’s asking her, a hand planting itself on top of her head. She’s shot up a few inches since the last time he saw her—which was admittedly too long ago. Her mascara is running off, because she’d tried not to cry and failed. Jessie sniffs and rubs at her eyes and nods happily.

“Enjoyed is an oversimplification—I think she lost her fucking mind.” Tess nudges Jessie with an elbow, which makes her little sister swat at her in typical little sister fashion.

“Is this merch?” Xavier holds Jessie by the shoulders, glancing down at the black hoodie she has thrown over herself, large but short, because she’s getting far too tall. The way all Wolffe children seem to get. “Stop. Don’t tell me you bought this. I could have gotten you free shit, Jess.”

“I wanted to support the band.” She’s pouting at him, childish and authentic. Sometimes, he cannot unsee her as a toddler, wandering around the living room with those uncoordinated arms thrown out around her. In the dark lighting of the the venue parking lot, roped off for privacy, she is clearly a pre teen and wildly growing. He pets down her choppy pixie cut and the affection he has for her makes him feel almost melancholy. Missing all those years of her life, like he had before.

“Is that Tess fucking Wolffe?” Lark jumps from the tour bus stairs, landing deftly into a jog.

“In the flesh,” she replies, before dissolving into more laughter as Lark snatches her up around the middle. Even though she’s six-foot-even and he’s topped out at five-seven, she’s easily hefted and falls forward a little over him as he does. She’s got a hand up, waving and Xavier glances behind to see Matilda. At the sight of her, Jess slips closer to Xavier bashfully.

Are you at that stage? Xavier wonders. Where everything seems to be embarrassing and awkward. He pets her hair again, turning away from Lark chattering Tess’ ear off to face Matilda.

“This is Jessie.” She’s met Tess before—Lark’s a fond and familiar Wolffe friend. He’d crashed in their house for almost a year when he’d been kicked out as a teenager and Xavier’s mother had informally adopted the boy into the redheaded brood. It was why Lark had been easy to connect with in the aftermath of—well. The aftermath. Matilda struts over in her confident, beautiful way, making Jessie’s eyes go bigger and bigger. She holds out a hand.

“Matilda, but my friends call me—”

“Mati,” Jess answers, eagerly scooping that hand up and shaking it with enthusiasm. “I’ve watched your interviews.”

“Okay, don’t lead with that,” Xavier jokes, shaking Jessie’s shoulders. She’s absolutely undeterred. References specific ones, asks questions about keyboards (“I play trombone in the school band.” “That’s so fucking cool.” “Really?” And Jessie looking like she might cry again) while Xavier’s eyes skate toward the bus. Land on Mouse standing there. For a moment, he sees something very lost in her eyes, very human and almost painful before she cleans it off with a sneer.

“Security,” she laughs in her sarcastic rough voice. “You didn’t tell me your older sister was so hot.” Tess bumps against Xavier’s shoulder as she comes closer, eyes sliding toward him. Xavier thinks distantly of the text messages they’ve exchanged about this group of musicians, and his never ending vent on how frustratingly rude Mouse could be.

“That’s so sweet of you.” She slings an arm around Xavier’s torso, pulling them closer. “People used to confuse Xavier and I for twins, so it’s kind of awkward that you’re essentially calling my little brother hot too. But I take compliments, sure.”

Mouse is instantly disarmed, her hands in her giant denim jacket and her eyes blinking. Xavier has to put a hand over his mouth to conceal a smile, otherwise it might goad her into finding her tongue again and saying something mean back. Instead, Mouse’s attention diverts to Jessie.

“You’re wearing my design!” It makes his little sister explode with excitement immediately, nearly a jump to her. She’s taller than Mouse and Xavier feels wounded watching her round her shoulders, hunch a little. He wants to tell her not to. Don’t start doing that now, or you’ll never stop trying to make yourself smaller. “Do you want to see the prototypes for the next merch drop?” Mouse slinks her hand around Jessie’s, her smile that ever present giant, somewhat devious in it’s cut across her face.

“No,” Xavier says immediately, shaking his head, and Jessie makes a wounded sound. He feels his shoulders hunching up with tension, eyes glaring at Mouse’s innocent wide stare. “No, c’mon, Jess. They just got done a show. They’re tired. We have to drive for like five hours tomorrow—”

“Whose tired?” Matilda’s arms sling over Jessie’s shoulders, pulling her in for a backward hug. “I’m not tired.”

“Never been tired a day in my fucking life,” Mouse quips, walking backward with her hand still on Jessie’s. His little sister looks downright star struck, trailing after them with a big, open mouthed smile.

“I can go on the bus! I can go on the bus?” She looks at him, pleading up hearts in her eyes to convince him. That’s something she never seemed to forget; how easy Xavier could be plied if she gave him big, wet, sad eyes. Maybe he’d spoiled her as a kid. That’s not your kid, he tries to remind himself. That’s just your little sister. You were a kid too.

“Mouse,” Xavier’s voice becomes low, threatening. He watches the door to the bus swing open. His heart skips a little at the peak of a brown hand.

“Oh relax,” Tess says, waving them on. “Like Matilda’s gonna let anything bad happen.”

Xavier watches a glimpse of long, curly brown hair—as if Benji is poking himself outside to see what all the noise is and he instantly turns to Tess. His heart feels like its doing more than just skip.

“Come smoke with me,” Xavier says, grabbing her elbow and twisting her around toward the back of the bus.

—

“Sorry, it’s all I have.”

He grimaces at the cherry flavored nicotine vape, but accepts it anyway. They lean against the back bumper, effectively away from the noise of the concert goers leaving. He should be around front, helping the rest of security to herd people away from the bus. He should be on that bus, making sure no ones giving Jessie candy or red bulls—which Mouse has in stock up to her fucking eyeballs.

Instead, he leans beside his older sister, puffing away at that disgusting little vape. It tastes funny on his tongue and makes him oddly thirsty. But it is a satisfying and instant hit that makes his hands stop shaking a little.

“I forgot she was such a big fan,” Xavier admits as he passes the vape back to Tess, who promptly hits it and billows white, thick vapor. “Even before Lark got me the job.”

“She has a poster of Matilda on her wall,” Tess replies with a laugh. “I forgot that they were so popular. It’s like one day Lark went from being a guy who slept on our couch to being,” she peeked around the bus and then back to Xavier.

“Yeah, it’s weird,” he instantly agrees, nodding and gesturing for her to give him the vape back. They stay like that for a moment, comfortably quiet. Xavier is, with no exaggeration, actually exhausted. He did front line duty, which meant he stood in front of the stage and constantly had to push people backward and sometimes, people hated him for that. Sometimes, people got a little too friendly because of that. He moves a hand through his hair, feeling sweat build up and sighing.

“Why are you trying to keep me from meeting Benji?”

The vape clatters to the ground, making Xavier swear and instantly dive to pick it up.

“I dunno what you mean—”

“I have literally known you since birth.” Tess takes the vape out his hand and shoves it into her pocket. Xavier hates that this is her, I mean business gesture. “You are the least subtle man in the world. He was about to hop off the bus and we walked around the entire thing to avoid him.” Xavier clears his throat and without something to hold, instantly starts fiddling with his own fingers. Laces them together and unlaces them and cracks tired and aching knuckles.

“Uh,” he laughs. “He’s tired. That’s all. After a show, he has to ice his hands and do like—stretches for them. It’s rough.”

“Oh,” Tess draws the word out, nodding. “Stretches.” She lifts her hands and splays them out. “How so?”

“Like this.” He imitates Benji’s routine hand stretches, shakes them out when he’s done.

“Fascinating. Does he have a favorite color?”

“I think it’s green.” Tess snorts, making Xavier frown and pull at his hands again.

“And how does he take his tea?” She asks, shoulder knocking into his.

“He doesn’t drink American tea—wicked snobby about that. He picks up iced black coffee when—Hey. Stop that.” Xavier pushes himself off the bus and stands in front of Tess with an accusatory finger pointed her way. She is grinning, her eyes bright and delighted up at him. “You’re fuckin’ evil, Tess.”

“What? Sue me. It’s fun watching you talk about him in person.”

Xavier thinks about their text messages and how Mouse’s annoyances were not the only thing they talked about. How Benji’s name flicks across those little blue bubbles more often than maybe it should. How once, Xavier had sent her a candid photo of him, a beer glass up to his mouth and eyes swayed to the left while he listened to Matilda. He’d been unable to open that text message chain for the rest of the night, because if he did, he’d get stuck staring at the photo he’d taken and sent. Benji had looked that fucking beautiful in it, the low bar lighting making his skin look rich and warm. He had eyelashes long enough to cast fucking shadows on his cheekbones.

“It reminds me of Dara. You haven’t dated anyone since then—”

“Don’t bring her up,” Xavier says, his stomach souring. He wants to think about that picture (the shadows of eyelashes, of his hand around that pint glass, wet with condensation), but the mention of her name reminds him of that slim engagement ring that still sits in the dresser of his childhood bedroom. Sometimes, the weight of it feels like a physical reminder of how he’d been so naive before the military. How he’d been so young, he’d thought he’d marry his high school girlfriend.

And thinking about her makes him think about the marines and makes him think of things he keeps trying not to think about.

“I just want to at least meet the fucking guy you’re dating, Xavier.”

“We’re not dating,” he replies, sliding his hands into his back pockets and staring at the ground. “We are—” His hand, that he’d only just pocketed immediately slides up to his neck instead, palming the back of it. “Why does it matter?”

“Well, I would like to make sure he’s cool.”

“He’s a drummer, of course he’s cool.”

“I want to make sure he’s kind. And I want to know what he’s like and make sure that—”

“Why are you being so fucking weird right now, Tess?”

She stands up, instantly defensive. They are too similar like this. Both of them very obviously their father’s children. He only has three inches on her, but he still straightens, because it makes him feel better. And Tess, who is well versed in that stance, glares at him instead. Refuses to correct her posture and give in. She folds her arms instead, across his chest. Neither of them have gotten loud yet, and it’s most likely because the ghost of their little sister lingers inside the bus they are directly outside of.

“Is this because you had to be the one to pick me up from the base hospital?” Xavier accuses her, without actually meaning it, and yet it’s something that has lingered on his tongue for years. Always there, always waiting for a moment. Tess’ anger drops instantly, her eyes blinking up at him, bright, clear and the same shade of green as him.

“What do you mean?”

“I know I was fucked up, okay?” Both Xavier’s hands brush back through his hair then, his chest slowly heaving out a long and shaky breath. “I get that I was—like, I wasn’t okay after I broke my ribs and got discharged. And I’m—I’m really fucking sorry you had to be the one to help, alright? But you don’t have to act like I’m going to fall apart all the time now.”

Tess’s arms unfold and all the anger in her seems to slice off like water wicked away. She reaches out, like an offering and Xavier’s cheeks go hot as he puts his in hers. She squeezes it.

“You think I’m worried about you because you have PTSD?”

Xavier hisses, stepping toward her.

“Don’t say that so loud.”

“Don’t call me loud,” she snaps back and then instantly laughs, with her head back, eyes crinkled and almost crying. “And don’t make me angry again, Xavier. Fuck, you are so good at making people angry, you know that?” She folds both her hands around his and shakes it angrily. He loosens, watching her.

Theresa had been his savior as a kid. She had been his whole world. They really had been called twins, their sullen middle sister, Emily easily tucking herself away with a book. They’d been elbow to elbow in every single mischievous moment he could remember from childhood, convincing her to follow occasionally.

When he had joined the military, she had been the one to drop him off at the bus station that would take him away and irrevocably change him forever. She had also been the one to pick him up from the base he’d been transferred too, with bones inside him that would permanently hurt forever.

“I’m not worried about you because of what happened before. I’m worried about you because you’re my little brother. You’re always going to be my little brother. Even when you’re wicked fucking tall, and wicked fucking annoying.” She shakes his hand again with every wicked and stares at him with such a loving glare.

“Okay,” Xavier says, his mouth dry and his eyes decidedly not dry. “Uh, that’s kind of why I was avoiding you meeting Benji. You’re like, very intense sometimes, Tess.” They both laugh at that, her finally letting his hand go and reaching for the vape in her pocket. Xavier swipes a hand under his eye and groans and rubs his shoulder. She hits the vape and he looks around the bus and instantly freezes.

“Hi,” Benji raises a hand. Xavier makes a strange noise in reply and then clears his throat.

“Were you—”

“No, just stepped out.”

They stare at each other for a moment. Benji’s hair looks wild, all long and pretty and messy. It gets like that, after shows and Xavier likes to tame it down himself. Likes brushing fingers through it, laughing at snags in the curls and likes feeling Benji shift against him as he does—Xavier blinks a few times before he remembers his sister behind him.

“This is Theresa.” He gestures awkwardly as she slides around the bus. “She goes by—”

“Tess. My sister watched a compilation of you cursing during interviews the entire ride to the show. I like your accent.” Benji snorts—which is decidedly a good sign, because it’s one of his amused snorts. His brown eyes are beautiful when they turn on him again and they make his heart squeeze painfully.

“Yeah, little sisters askin’ for a sibling.” Xavier glances to Tess, who starts forward before Benji lifts one of his hands. “Nah, asked for Xavier.” The parking lot has vacated entirely, so it’s quiet except for a little stir of wind. There’s a group of security guards talking not too far away, sharing a few laughs around gifted beer. It is not louder than his heart in his ears. Xavier laughs and its an awkward sound.

“Okay,” he says awkwardly. As he passes by Benji, he feels the back of the drummers hand brush over his—this small comfort carries him all the way onto the tour bus.

—

Jessie is firmly asleep in the passenger seat of Tess’ car hours later. Xavier has to lean in and kiss her temple and she doesn’t move when she does. Her cheeks are still pink from the nights excitement. She’d been fawned over, naturally. Xavier hadn’t needed to worry about her on the bus—well, she had crashed from all the candy and at least one red bull, but she’d been taken care of. Had a new hoodie prototype that wasn’t released yet. Signed CD from Ewan. More pictures than she needed of herself and the band.

Tess gives Xavier a hug before she goes. Refuses to answer a single whispered question about what her and Benji had discussed outside—they’d been out there for a while. The entire time Xavier had tried not to press his ear to the bus window and listen.

When the car pulls away, he’s still waving long after it’s gone.

“She’d get along with Saha,” Benji says beside him.

“Which one?” Xavier looks over at him. He has to tilt his head down a little. Benji hasn’t looked up yet, watching that car turn tiny in the distance. Xavier has that urge to pet that hair down, even now. When Benji does look up, he doesn’t manage to get out an answer before he’s being kissed.

It has none of that usual, open mouthed neediness they usually have for each other. When Xavier’s hand touches Benji’s neck, slides up and cups his cheek, they stay soft. There’s not even tongue, just two mouths pressed together in joint, pleasant intimacy. Xavier pulls away and even still, he’s breathing a little harder. Not the kissing that does it. The closeness. His thumb caresses over Beji’s cheekbone.

Then he pulls away and looks up at the night sky. His hand pulls away because he’s awkwardly shoving it into his pocket, his other trying to desperately correct his messy mop of red hair.

“Uh, Benji,” he starts. He risks a glance down, but Benji has pressed in closer, so they’re chest to chest—or rather so that Benji’s chin is notched into his sternum. He looks up at him and makes Xavier’s heart feel too big for his ribcage. Xavier laughs and puts his hand back to Benji’s cheek. “Would, uh,” he starts again and pauses. Benji’s defined brows raise a little. “Are we—uhm.”

Xavier laughs again and folds a hand over Benji’s eyes.

“Please, dude, I can’t handle when you look at me like that.”

“M’not doin’ anythin’—”

“You are looking at me, man. Like, looking at me so hard.”

Xavier’s hand drops away, revealing those dark brown eyes again. The drummers cheeks are a little darker, his skin turning ruddy on his cheekbones. He feels Benji’s arms sliding around his waist, hands dipping into his back pockets so he can’t get away. He doesn’t mind being trapped like that. Outside, in the night air, in an empty parking lot. It reminds him of the first time they ever kissed. The hand he’d used to conceal that beautiful gaze slowly winds into his hair, cups the back of Benji’s skull.

“Are we dating?”

“Yeah,” Benji’s reply is immediate. His smile has gone from it’s usual snarky, crooked grin to something so big and beautiful that Xavier memorizes it instantly. He’ll recall that smile as often as he can, whenever he needs it. Because it’s his, this is his smile, one that Xavier has never seen Benji give to anyone else.

He means to say something sweet or romantic or articulate. But that smile has obliterated any chance of stringing together words. Instead, he leans in—

“Get on the fuckin’ bus, what the fuck?” Lark’s voice cuts out through the parking lot, making them jump. “It’s four in the morning! Bunny is going to fucking kill us!”

Benji laughs, hands squeezing against Xavier’s ass in his pockets and making him jump a little and laugh too. And they continue laughing, even over the loud lead singers laughing—and the only thing that stops that laugh is another kiss until Lark decides he has to step off and physically drag them back.

—

The next day Lark finds them, both sleeping in that shitty top bunk cot that Xavier drew the unlucky short straw. He’s not tall enough to see them directly, but one of Xavier’s pale arms is dangling down and there’s a dark brown one fixed against the side of his friend’s face.

“They can’t be comfortable,” he mumbles as Matilda slides behind him. She’s putting her sleepy nose against his shoulder and kissing the fabric of his shirt.

“He can sleep anywhere.”

“Which he?” Lark watches Xavier’s fingers twitch, wonders if he’s having a good dream.

“Both.” His eyes transfer to his girlfriend as she lounges out on the tour bus couch, one hand over her tired eyes. Her shirt is lifted a little, revealing her pale, pretty hip bones. He spares Xavier and Benji one last thought, in the form of a text message sent to Tess that says ‘THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FINALLY THANK YOU’ before he slinks his way over to Matilda.

#writing #hj #band au #2023 #xw #bp #tw #bp x xw

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libidomechanica · 2 years

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“Such immortal, while both of us straine the lust of”

A sonnet sequence

Ears begged for further, but gave no faces in it at all, just paint you sudden movement, he with him: I knew not hold, nor death and when they smote her, it were all to weake and of crews as renegadoes; while they pick’d em, to make a Lady of my own, my son. ’Tis tho’ fickle she and the wholesome Growth approve him, and Spirit that, when I see thy tresses: stately Julia’s breast with choisest words, which it came and reading, but why thy odour matcheth not thy share, ’twad been their own hearts held the key. Such immortal, while both of us straine the lust of lawlesse youth’s hot wish her minds intice.

Then being qualified in one answer. No natural heat till their young JESSIE seek Scotland all our own captivity to- morrow should bear such outrage, and the omen from the lady that others smile; time has turned out his past or present, safe—not so. To disfranchise deserts scorch the sight to bear, and let go. Thou departest; and though her country’s a thing all the vale; and me to Mortal Love. I never she loved me forever! And flower amang them take him thence that traced that Salámán fell she gazed on her shall know I was cursing thy sight? Death crashing eyes; of herbs and cream?

And thank’d her breast doth worshipp’d be; pain had burst, and wondren at bright and let vs cast with dim dream of bliss? This heau’n, and Reigns lord of the Nude Descending a Staircase or at a rehearsal a single hour to-night, and mighty manhode brought—a Boy— Who, when I see thou list in fayre Elisa rest, or if their siesta took, a gentle Maud in our walk for often lie deepest in their new jubilee, when all thy mind; the head. When I might seek that gives throughout your song, when King Victor has Italy’s THERE, with a suddenly wonder what can seem fair, when others smile; time breakfast.

A thousands of greenery which wrote it still art discontents me than all; from two smart sabre gashes, but not to love toward thine. To keepe, as thought came from gliding base: now they in the garden, Maud, and twirls. Is inside, a red tinge, with queintBellona in her father, O father’s shafts of sight, where not of that fond kiss; and now doth flowers and lusters to recommend. Her teeth were lives in frame, and let them to be thus wretched, I did see the dim purpureal tresses: stately Julia, prime Desires, while I walk’d to-day, the trampled steel that is The Fire? When Januar’ wind will sever.

Ill affronts a Neighbour’s Wife, draws his teeth. Devotes thine eyes, to thy share, tha sic a moment, readings for song, we will take; she saw was Juan’s gore, and stern as her falling, and denied not. I’ll tak what Heav’n will teach at last, with seal’d eyes to see. A village- cotted hill, is flank’d by the cry that brief nightingale, so doth it deny? Let love deceived in rain. And all-oblivious enmity shall feel all the phoenix nest: if her like a bird. And the Essential Soul, its Raiment clean of Mortal Taint, and play, sat without a tree breath, and Which grows too sad, and in his Bounty drown’d.

If I may never can into their steps are brief nightingales or doves. Burn to pot, burn to pot, burn to pot, till slowly charged within the Master’s mirror, o look her, instantly renew the street, with choisest word to say what was long ago, they ken na what, features choice, woman in things are blest. White though to pleased my mind a day like life of my light polluted water yet reflecting even Sometimes come between us—it will not survived even this fate, loves nothing sweet, he always on thee—on thee—beholding, besides, I’ve no more subtleties the panacea, Sir!

Every night, like the bars and cream? We tell by tongue, or the Sultan, and thought of the deep and revell’d air, which must do? Knowing it, that I have felt below, what t was fortunate! The Death into my skin, the same, a vast, untill’d, and I would question further down: holy and roses taint, and pleas’d with its merchandize; I barter curl for loue does not one long the bonie lass that brought up true. Twice or twice, the eagle soars alone; she held stern, she woo’d the day where the mountain and the thing, she is a lady fell into the game short a date: sometimes should we defer our come to burlesque.

Acquire the moon is the fact that whenever like a great a curse to read on that severely wounded; yet could reach that faint low sigh, while the tears half drown’d, he cried, let death of friends for her sake, to be reconciled; and I would comfort my distress, or fourth wife, or victim: all thine own deeper know it; my tongue that turned away, because of your morall not fade nor lose possessed, to live on for thine when he delicacy of thine? The lass that last, defying augury with a dissipated life, and the casement press’d with something sweet. The grave will have no frown can fright me.

The mystical usurper of the lowest: meanest creatures, till each the motion of a demon, be not iaelous ouerspred with swimming rills we travellers, ’ but now she stood, as on her own and thriftless praise is due at all, just paint you sudden tremor came, in gay letters still the sun took delight, and mountain and all over; still now forbore to show the airport so I can make fire Nothing there? And old Scamander if t is he! Roses heard the word; put up, young troop, and write to tell me how language of snakes upon his cutlass, and delight, like one! Smell like a bed to me.

The most imperative of sovereign thing in sight. Date, an airy lust, too often abroad in the basin and then she lies along. Polluted water falls below, making a sign old Lambro bade on till the fuel; and whirl’d her way while I walked out one evening died but Mercy changed: in a cave eating goat, Or cross a sulphuric lake in a pair; therefore was over. I said, my lassie thocht na lang till the common grow. That crossed me from birth to warmth and griefs united thus by such a world will be. We will be thy guide in this our Universe parts the jewel in the little day.

That Miracles perforce, at last, everywhere one charm no more? When out of men? Three years to compass, and is, if ye could ever more-for soon or late Love is dumb. Since those, as not now at the gnawing at my heart in two. Who make faults of his Presence that tree although their straw. Are lovers’ parts of the mother she love killer, I am from you, light upon a love I though thou depart as from its birth, the gold-eyed serpent dwellings down, its tenants pass’d, like men below. Who euer casts to come disguise! Blythe and meek, she cannot such ends, and down to the Garden of girls, that we least shall haue a Kidde to stagnate, their round; and that our nature. And that I do hold on her, yet each past emotion. Who never be who make a mistresses bound into an oval, square a dead and that makes me write, what damned mind. Where not for the Sultan has a strange principle will of God be done!

The situation seek, and ever-dying Gladiator’s air, their hapless group, how like the dancers leave us much more the day I die, the lake in the bonie lass that made incomplete, a bottle almost sanctify the sea. She was slowly charme, and hers the sharpens and ordure rankle round her the sheet I smell there—do go. The lassie thocht na lang till day: by my gude luck a maid enjoy’d the barren tender acacia would the Master’s mind; and the soprano might bring in the moralising Muse. Still would be grau’d in my bosom, thou spend the ball in a penalty kick.

I am thence, that test. Not so in plight, and thirty years before since sorrowes eloquence? If her lids hung the musico is but warld’s goods, handsome wee thing, ere what worth of Love my Nanie’s changing happen’d the omen from Gaeta:—Shot. So rich in atonement as this for my young, but hurting her head at her, and in white fog. Song in the wall in time of warres and in which you can do is not going to behold will still pudding along you were gone; the precious friendship’s pledged my faith; I love too much, some by Jews, how some to the Garden of Love, t’ acquit such design’d.

No voice of no great song for weight from profane communion table where painfully and midnight show how Passion of hatred with sometime decline and their exchanging could give her senses all to weake and laugh’d her sport which was their quiuers, in Sleeps armory; with wares which speaks no more blest. But I called The Soul inspir’d and aye she will wring us at length he perch’d his, nor thou lookest wits still the hands, side-faced; and o’er again, just to the seraglio do to sette thy notes straine. That I knew thy force; be it so; this is in me this darke place, but I call’d her cheek, catches from the lowly eye.

Till pudding and a smile on me which that frown, he shall be mine, and heart re-sent; and these rarities might choose, the wind o’er her dying bed—that Maud’s dark as yonder what you could bear, that Miracles Mens faith. Dear unto all, but dearest, ever deem me true’; swiftly flew the thousand lisping beside which still her ills—a scatter’d weed, of small worth of Love are yet deter a second trial. Had a peach: he turn’d to the memory she laid below each deployment I become so sympathetic, moved by the Sacrifice. Next, when separate: the polished shape. She is coming, my own meaning.

Having shook her thought of honeysuckle that I could show you how very useless but you should, rustle thy bondslave is my degree, while both ingross: Fade softly from myself a slave bethought; all thy mistes eclipse that cuckold lives through the hellish hound did you great voice, and chime: o let none she ever could employed, no nearer bliss he could not how, but without a Single scudo of salario; but if it kindle or restrain. Are not The mood made him lint and no other in this and twilight saw them link’d with the stone the musico is but a lottery, drawn by the sea.

I swear, there is a strange ball that it both sight to bear upon your firstborn son. Of girls, grows too sad, and bring; though he deny it. Of having such as not deter a second principle of lids then buried day. But after all, t is—tis Lambro— ’t is not amiss. What, dost thou camst, flye backe to her changed, thoughts which the strong tree should’ve said it reminded them of the Patrician left-legs, which the swirl and ache from my Clay to raise me up a fresh blood spilt had in it at all, just paint you suddenly wonderful, for vice is always am a grace; robes loosely flowing, hair as free!

Unfit to wed Amphions lyre, seeking to their features there is a hand, of legs in a snare, condemn: each was the coast, therefore call’d in the great wrong to make fault is mine; this far we are sick of its hack sounds and sharp, on many a hero’s grave; weak still obligingly fair; o’er the Curse of hem was loued aye. With graves, and often in its carbon monoxides, by eyes dulled to stand unministering of Thine! The loves one long for men, but in one of the dead weight of men? Nourish beginnings: for the buried, risen from Grimm seeping bees to the ba’, the young, fair Friendship’s kind disguise!

Some good notes; and this was white rose is blown. Inspiration of worse, that any laud therefore is He that are just so much love, while I turn’d each other prayer, unless it were nothing balm, and Spirit that, but severely wounded and lotted again: and doubly were too long should ever been born. But speak to me, when you lookest with the time it splits—half for each. In some ships which each endear’d. Still welcome as them my pen, and Reigns lord of nourish beginnings. How Passion and now to see. Our Hearts are free: such civil war is in my head, and the choice Myrrha for their Lord, more strong sweet.

Had stopp’d his music, and helpless at my arms, and increase: without light of my face. Thou hast done think on the death and break with the bridle and bud about thy body, I allow, and did not know; perhaps, an invisible cloak, An army of ants. And every virtue now I raise. Having wash of air—Rome’s ghost since wounds with us perpetual night did me enfauld, I knew ye not afraid: t was white, deepening of that seemed as happy in the most imperative of souls, give myself with their last day! Yet I was a phrensy which now it shall be Young, and not a wh—re.

Is folded and lurk; her hair was wet with all to my dark-dawning you were minded so, the year. Yet prodigy that which would have been patriots, yet strong, writ now but in senseless clay and me to Mortal Birth, must be postponed discreet, difficult for someone little hamlets of death, and the love thee not, when only Maud and they were one of their eyes can see that spring, tis that stung. Unlike our uses and infancy; but stir she could not seem very wonder weed took up and set my heart, the edge of having without asking why, and loud on the more’s that bound, and temptation.

First crack the second time did Matthew stop; and fix itself when the honour is it, to rest from her grave, I met besides, I’ve no more or less takes all he dared to speak of my great beginnings: for the moralising Muse. I sued the look’d below each drop they can ne’er forgets I will not sleep. My very inke turns straight and lotted again: and doubly were not Good, be slow to pray to lose. Fair eyes, to the cold deny’d— send word by Charles very carefully, doefully, and said, Alas, ye’ve ruin’d me. But as day a-kindling; but warl’s gear, and the land, this sùbjects too. Was drunk to do.

I know how change this boy. His pangs the night, and pleas’d with wine, and ran, but death we’ll cheat him agen, for who was lethal. The impresario, making a sign old Lambro, who till now forbore to secure them to shoote agayne: o what a love I seemed as happy date with final retort have dawn’d a fair; the earth in an earth: her days and passion in him planted found only know; perhaps no better that cleave t’ adore the Myllers rownde, all as the flesh with payne, that a country lad is my fate; sad strife arose as one who sits and ordure rankle round aboue the shore! His dame from base desire that we use everyday to open cans was so ere it grew, for more wretched, I watches from annoy, that Fate no liberty destroy, records Ravenna’s carnage on its fury overcoming back, its limbs of flowing, hair as free: meantime Apollo plucks me by thy sight?

And to soar too far, till a silent, and comes forth from that the same ring. Been the sun she like a bed to me. Rose Aylmer, whom she demand from the knee and sighing a world was searched, through the dark blue quilt and put the tyrant, for the hands cut off and now delay the Animal Desire; by which this heart and tropics there wine in ten, for why should blunter be thou; although a heavy price must answer’d to do. Here is an hour before what was long ago, they came at stated moments to say! And aye she sight to sette thy notes straight to say! And vital feelings of Sensual fault lie?

All you the lady. Rolling green valley of shallow Polish Rider occasion— that we use everyday’s most quiet sheep feeds, and not in each other neighbors, going on outside, and so more sweet, like sandals, and heaven, and replaced it. I love may be patroclus, Ajax, or Protesilaus—all here missed. Mock the memory she lay sick once, without pause, up the blurred yellow leaf, ’ and Imagination droops her pinion, and all-oblivious cooks, those that hour too slow, and both Subjects you terribly terribly sad You wish you could be in NY for a rarity.

Than I can tell beginnings. No voice of soul, as earth as rough their lady to lie her down: holy and humble all the days and nights. Why dost thou wont the steaming rills we travels I return! No more can be this Child I to myself refuse, nor with conscience not a son? Sought them, at least, the foster-babes of Fame, life seems when Pegasus seems when they should ceased to him, and seals might employ, like one! And fast bound, and then decide, without asking why, and bloomin’ and stretch her but I? Then take, Clarinda’s fondest friends for her pride; when Juan for the first was a kid, but now where do you go?

To those, that light, and to the starts to faint,—one loved as one exceedingly unpleasant colours had stopp’d to me, you live in the red rose in Haidee threw herself her body is most vile, but cold snow. And are wafted abroad and sorrow, hope and fear, to see even in Raiment undefiled, as it were identical masks, Tiptoe up to their round, and ligge so large a flights, intrigues, adventurous and coffee leave t’ adore in your orange tulips around to store his face in constellations, and here entreat one long: and Viva l’ Italia! And yours nor mine, no voice of the mind—o’erpowering stars. Sang:-she wound, and breast what the eyes my pride, which would within thy shadow as they wandering there—but the gnawing at my art, for them, at least appearing sun, and let them shake upon your report, that hunted, hunted so, the time Sonny Rollins disappeared.

If I kiss thy gay morn of Rome. A village schoolmaster was a pure delight the height my soul had been so sweetest song-birds nestle in a little box and white: to see a child of sight I summon up remembrance of heart would with false of heau’n of my own nostrils, should ceased to flow, alluring me, and plains. Come into some little hamlets of delight, all as they turn from death, of having survive to see a child of sight for the brag o’ the fool believes who is it, to restraine. The Great Migration free: such civil war is in my arms about him sad, it made the gem so small?

How, but still art discontents than tears scald and day, and all, some love vehicle itself to dwell. Unseen as sings about him sat the Robe of Honour of Old England, old England. And feel for them take him that bound, and temptation in her hand, and I— too lately used the children, ran before we part; rue on the tortoise crawls; troops of mine shall she turn’d to a halt understood I will hold your hovels heap’d: come, my boys, come; come, my boys! In Salámán’s Heart back to the sky, that I may avow; and laboured lands to Plight, ’tis with compare, myself will teach at last are hardly fitted face to believe That you couldst print more, still to Honour of Prosperity; then found himselfe the lily, breath, of having when I’m with sometimes the taste is gone and horses and by their malice? Effects of life, which that fond kiss’d her eyes the vehicle, she, why not, that envy wished, and to die.

When he turn’d to the very face, then stand near the tree when all them shot in that stung. Fair the honour of Old England. Small course of China brought a bedde of ease: the vaunting need and that state of Poesie, yet of the change: but if it kindle or restrain. If I kiss Anthea’s breast to mind. Is any Blessing better, then what an honour pend in shamefull coupe. Bleeds from such skirts. Thin, that it assume thy brow, which birth to a butterfly with their lips.—Thought I summon’d handmaids tended her mither’s faded cheek is always is coming, my dove, my love thee for me, o wrang na my virginitie.

And back the street, with choisest words, thy worth, what damned minute goes. And Spirit that, dizzy with a fillet on graves, and on flower at the Charles how you hurt! Which, if it kindle not, beseech thee, art a guest for queens to social pageantries, with greedy choice Myrrha for thought it would their lady to lie her declines, the festal midnight show how Passion put to use in my opinion, and some disguisèd plot then greater the blood and, you’re hurt exclaim’d, let me prop my mind doth lie: that the gay, dewy morning, through her dressing—table cluttered with Cape Sigaeum. Old England: old England.

There has fallen no tears, of which no soldiers march to take and oak. As long, long desert to their dust from hidden grapevine springs downhill at dusk? The mirror, and flamily igniting its long since thou departest; and the dead was a Romagnole, but they sigh’d, and it will hold your creepe, while the ryme should forget till that is Love? And fixing still the parson, we’ll never believe when he turn’d to faint,—one loved me; and, soon coming, my life endure this a dozen in a Sea of yce: and blotted out here under the lute and in his heau’n of my lost saints,—I love the lake’s surface.

The dews of the roses have something sweet. Lass made the birches partly because if he should stab the palate in this head, and then present pay? Her sweet season is over with us perpetual dullness, to-morrow which slays even can make that her hearts to fail, and ran, but it escaped her mine from her breast maternal wean’d at once or me? Showing a much more steadily to have no frown can fright me; while I was not fit mark of love, where I used to pour down rain, with what delight to scanne: he, were hung with the pitiless in t: and not much loyalties’ expense of the rose.

Oft came to Heaven below thine Friend, nor that proceeded quietly to cock. Enough to hear her foes; but aye she sight which is mail of anguish, in which to restrain. All is Eden, or a wild civility, and Time will teach at last man,—and, as we would adopt your silly selfe out of their lives in bliss who, certainties in this arms were between you couldst print more like one life of dull decay was not life, misled, and then they gazed on now, will sink where Dante’s bonie, O; but I trust that line, dearest gift of Heaven in the sun took delight, or shame and thou, with the delicate mouth.

Condemn: each wave rose in the floating weft, where all awake, rather things are over; still like a fish out of my wealth, and his Vices from Gaeta:—Shot. The two and this is in me therefore be grieve at grievances foregone, and lyftes him once the wine is spoilt by affectation, who sang when chivalry was most vile, but overwrought back to the Rust Belt. Dream of solitudes call’d in Ossian the pen that made the gem so small? Hard words; harsh kisses,—of camp- life and balsamum, to make a dent for yoghurt partly because a lady fell in love. The fields the same or forgive me.

Then can I fall more fun than going to me. I don’t dance with honor’s laws. A connivance with marble urn, were left to the Throne. She put the Minstrel be, proscribed from her grace in this, that mart, and forth between the hollow, when the breath, smiles, her with compare this a dozen dozen dozen dozen dozen dozen dozen in a Sea of yce: and yet, I’ll tell you can choose between you have your hands, or though the hand to the bed to me. And looking our directory by rote. Here in fact; from the knee and that Submersion. For lofty loue is such length into wail such a thing this heath, to be presum’d, though that sweet flowers. Ye three perfect past a futures of what thou lookest with her dear brunette complexion seems when we raised his body in the cup of a harp; the rain is over, the one you like a serpent’s coil: then flew upon that I discovery’s dateless nice.

And cursed him o’er their day; they pleasaunce makes the morning with pains my head: o cod she lay; at length dissolved to do. The bay crown’s shade, where the epitaph a Poets found himself apart from Matter, in Essence and Priests in black, composed? To let them shot by the swirl and ached for wings impetuous some by Jews, how some fellow, and Haidee’s known to us through her coat so astoundingly—a gift, a love gift utterly this heau’nly guest looks o’er the memory, within, which might send flowers. They are vainely spent: for how often lie deepest in the flowers, and stretch her will?

—I have treated, and ran, but delight to see. Having you marke, that is the real world known injury. And loathsome myre: such sweet and kind, when in her smiles that much. The edge of the deathbed desire, and moan the same; serenely lie round the green seraglio has its eunuchs too, lest any tyrant, for a fairer mark; and who laid will take thy passion put to use in my opinion; they changed the parent is love must partake? Eating popcorn the edge of the lily lies o’er the sharp shingles with lawyers and bore juan replied, Your blood flows down into nothing and dumplin burn to pot.

Who could put our two bodies she must partakes two webbes in hand can hold a forest of pop culture and glancing, soothing out, Oh hear and heare the day where Dante’s bonie, O: the op’ning gowan, wat wi’ dew, nae purer is that matter, so I probably didn’t work of ages on its face, whose faire a vertue to enioy! And, buried day. Cut from his dust, but still her lip, the most exalted, Charity, are saving— vice spares nothing men should and strike athwart their lee—another, and from out my plumes from above, over them did knead, which outweighs argosies,—as purply black, composed?

Ah, what there is paid to shoote agayne: o what am I that thyself into your crooked heart re-sent; and dearest to the end. It makes yearly t would bless me with his right honour of Old England: old England, and kept unused, the foster-babes of glittering grey; as blithe a man for age to aspire, nor time, not thy show, the sun took delight! Can die! The long frozen in a Sea of yce: and even I in this, authorizing thy tresses bound by those lips billing be both law and could also the grief of my own soul. Came thee with the silence felt, keepes performed! My Nanie, O.

And ligge so large and we sit on for the pain, is dragging down, and someone said it reminded them of the decay of how we sound. Want not much like a cedar fell’d. On before I shrug on the sun’s, and have left full thirty years long, bawling a filthy song These are your creepe, while I think on the shadow, dull and cream? To be taken, to be presum’d, though chill—with frisked curls can make the world an end, and the fire burst forth at the European youth where with a fear of words. I believe, though the same opinion; they changed, thought of hers for someone asks—You have to fight again with the mind!

—The bonie lass made the bush, the best: some limb and she on him; t was strange brig—Corpo di Caio Mario! These agree. Who blames what you use the wintry sun the day has clos’d, and I’ll awa to Nanie, O. Oath, arcades ambo, ’ id est—blackguards both. But sold by those who would their steps are blest may do right are those bodies from such skies, when happiness had been the horse the unquiet feelings all because ’tis of you that are just so much, some fellow captives, who with their wine, you harke, as grudging me my story makes you have recourse to black! Leaves them pleasures of the moralising Muse.

To doubting care: o thinke I then the great planet that woman in the steel-mirror of hers for all along the valley, down to the green. The resinous base. Crazy for thine own deeper where Beauty of thine for ever! White thought his face; the warrior’s column is defile. Was its eunuchs too, lest any tyrant cast out. For whom I tried, and the omen from death, to be gay. Here Raucocanti lucklessly was chain’d, as nature grow: we are our slender prise. Save her till I die. One Nightmare where endlesse blessednes that Miracles performed in play, he with his own avenger.

Soon, like a mermaid’s song, when Haidee’s eye. I loved, drowning in never-changing down deeper know it; my tongue to sail at nine. A grace; and drawing from her dressing and snake-like help! Her daughter ill shall I call, save the woman in the train came, rank on rank; he gave the wild beasts find; among which now it shall owe you are he; the first time and which no soldiers who have no brother, betrothed us over wars and orchard, lying at the eyes the vehicle, she, why not, that he begat: the tears of mine, nor stopp’d to me. Slathered garlands ta’en away; and bear to let the bed to me.

As long, bawling a filthy songs and wasten soone in vayne. Not marble or a name, a voice of the two angels affection, having youth, darken’d watching red, the hitch between His After and over your beck, or a poisoned jerkin from death, and the dews of Heaven in Raiment clean of Mortal Life betray: the Death brag thou wilt my good, then faded, and bare, and strong. Scholler, saith Loue, maintaine thy lip, eye, and odd female, who after some excuse, �� proving his belt a pistol, when I am no longest miss the old tomb’s ruin: yonder what end is it understood twinkling in thee?

Rustle thy bondslave is my fathers have offer went beyond, they meet; so unhappy as a wall; and, whatever must all passions of thee who art dead? I have likes well as the world’s wrack we share o’t; the way she betray’d at the sweetest sing. You have thou usest; but as thou must not call to weake and went, as the reed which might hand and greater grief to bear love’s wronger; but being too-too kind? Juan gazed upon you long; I was filled with the blue surge, o’ershadow’d therefore? Shall I call, save thorns, and the while I place me zones and one in ten? Feel all the sacrifice. Marry a monster.

And thus some one somewhere between us, over and stink of them shot in that laughing slut the same. There they do not kill the First it left the yellowing with crabbed care the bed to me. Lambro bade the bed to me, until they lock it in that is she grew less and less; o, for a medical experience which in that he left his wings impetuous some wind o’er a harp-string, or a wilderness, which derived a double blue, dancing all the clocks had cease while weeds and eclipse that great wrong to endlesse blessing and a sun, as if to shoote agayne: tom Piper make a better return!

That I wont deuise, to thy selfe contemplative, only contrary: and fauns and orchard, lying at his fate—he fountain spring, tis that others rose to think of the Phlegethontic rill! Myself will to be senseless things but I shall still the sun-clouds all silence and Priests in bliss who, certainties in the inner weight of their pain in self-scorn; but there, through whom I sing by gladly die? There has fallen, with something has come between they’re gathered shake as they change that which is many wishes flaming in the fricative, men, who his Dominion: now my sere fancy falls into families.

Where one small birds rejoice in a pair; the eagle soars alone; the fire-balls of delighten with that fond kiss; and helpless at my doom, and lay the Friendship’s kind disguise! Soldiers march to the shirt since the world was subject, when the offered them to me the flower add the rose in this, they hired him, though thus kindly she did create, created me who have both in bed. And then present; i’m sensible redundancy is wrong to learned troupe. And loathsome call Stellas name; But since we see like the day I die, the lass made the bird I bid Love her trust can only Maud and thoughts augment?

Specks, mote be forst to Pindar’s eyes the vehicular independence, the street. Nor can I fall more low, mounting Poets on too far, till a silence and tropics there, an ignorant, noteless, tuneless forlorn, and less expected for I would; but, being fired at once or two: tis such be wood-globes of glittering of This Mystery which still much is left behind, still like the braw lass made the best: some prefer wine—’t is noticed me,—he noticed me,—he notice the furies made the brother had seen: a Chapel were Elisa one of thilke same specific yesterday.

And Viva l’ Italia! Thus lived—thus divided, stand in the warm New York city when you sit at the crew; in vain she stray’d o’er the slave nor free! It makes yearly t would be very brother hung over the red rose, leaving with compartment in which our household spies, or his easier ears begged for foe; but if the bare hill; the rapture, that I am alone at the form divine sufficient Secret be enlarged. Which insphere the abandoned out per coupled in that long-shanked dapper ditties peepe; nay more for yours of whom I sing better than hate’s knowledge and Desire.

But aye she struggled in so hush a mask? That without pause, up the money, you agree? Of ancient hand, and drink my lot divine, and tells me to restraine. Why I tie about their own in universe party is the voice more he found the Marvel of Peru. From the west by the sweet smile at the woodbine spices are tedious found her body is warm with the party, and hair. And—but no showers where all the phone. I wonderful, for vice is always is complaint. Pity, will to be a moment, then, as an angel form’s faun to that others a factitious state, and, buried day.

Yet, love, like figuranti, they are, and the first seen such—but must bid them out upon a lover surely unto Thee mine eyes, were transfigured, glorified aright, what, a whole weeke without touch on her knees both darlin’.—And Death brag thou wilt my good, then ordeal was more lovelier flowers, and the Giant is enchanting a dangerous thought came to mourn and it always signs with trust which like describing people? His green tree of grace, rose Aylmer, whom the white-blossoms on them burn so chaste dames, huge giants, kings despotic: but almost empty Coca-Cola can again, and milky way; but at the flowers, and cordials they pass, and break the research of the roses taint, and firmer faith proved her as to ask his fate, loves not other on the dressing—table cluttered everything will be back on 100K a week and plain, in earth lies broken my heart to show em, but she.

Many a Greek maid in a ditch doth fall? Is always on the shore, and have left full thirty years shall rear her and strike, there are forty feeding is acute. Again as in a tangle, and Care: how lonely every private widow well might goes into them, letting their lives in sweeter it grew a fashioned hot line-no voice to despise, when in her smile, a wizardry of worse, to the top of the generation of existence; the devil a Phrygian. Rough winds do shake the beauty by succession was a boy of saintly breeding; so that others held cravings for sophomore girls.

The brother is coming, my dove, my lord, of jealousy; it is to be reconciled; and I was a pure daylight of my eyes, and dwell in; so well, ere you comest! Few would adopt your side watching up a lower, and they never say the Animal Desire—the Sensual fault is mine; this fate, loves not bear to the Turkish hardned heart would blunter be consumed, and bite back where he rules, all power he doth ryse. Islander with hair of glist’ring bright all who say some marvelous experience which may be my deare captainesse to rove: and Pride, who forbids our Business best.

Many a vanish’d sight: then being qualified in vain to madness; she arose, and away. We know not why, and neist my heart I’ll get my plumes from Generations will I gaze, and yet I cannot raise my idle seem’d some good at my arms, and hurl, my inside, a red tinge, without one ever been born. We will bring the valley, by rock and call’d Salámán’s Heart, unless when your heart denies, oh, in pity hide the bed to me. I had the sky to where thee winges of the Impression of a demon, be not in each mortals call my friendly star? Dearest gift of Heaven below.

How is it, Shadows! My brave civic Pair, to dissolve the ryme should discern—infinite heart, since my sorrowes eloquent recital was interrupted by this: the deathbed desire, chiefe good minute goes. Across a city from my Clay to raise me up a fresh is the Meaning when I’m with your country, so, my love, whereon she like the furies made the generation of existence; they saw, but stood still, is flank’d by thought not. I never blind; nae ferlie ’tis tho’ fickle she presence gies to the world adieu, a world away. I showers where men have souls out of the old trick!

Mix in the peasant’s coarse content with heavy ache lay at all she gave them in the sunset through oceans new, to find the lassie, dinna sae uncivil be; gif ye hae ony luve for more. Ah, ah, ah! What art is she good and Sense—through the dances and candle in her as to look two ways, and maidens as fair: to equal transports of the city, out of an age; I once here is an hour dear as widowed sky, seem most divine, and strength to feede, and great Augustus long as my life, or true-love tie; next, when exquisitely chisell’d, still she met, as one by one. And that copy die.

Rolling graceless over, the loved as one whose spirit from the word,—’Arrest or slay the garden, Maud, I am only giving thy sight? In arms, wi’ a’ her chamlets, with me had made him to The Shah of Yúnan, as his mind; the music clash’d through to see a woman I love to woe tell o’er the cliff-side transfer where Loues selfe at large dark eye’s mutual Victims laid, and make, like a big girl’s blouse and Taste, with enuie, yet now methinks to the clocks in them take him the white rose weeps, She is near; ’ and yet is Princes pallace thou doe sitt: and yet these were too long, must charm no more bright English lily, unheeded the cool and green laurel- bough. And cursed he whose earliest beat still break it shall not Maud have before your crooked heart to shortest view, he gaz’d, he cannot but love of one of the Sultan has a sentimental farce! Nor so ambitious arm lest any tyrant cast out.

No more bright, from where thou list in fayre Elisa rest, or if the Stab of He is no instinct like the form divine, and asked him with your praise shall live beyond memory of unkissed kisses,—of camp-life and glory, then with pains my heart, whose suffer this wedded lie! Since, that wad beguile my Nanie’s charm’d that th’ uncertainties in the couering of warres and passions work me wrong, but times a gleam of light, ’tis with curls, and cut down; his bloom! Protects his place, but warl’s gear, sae let the world grows dull, and last, everywhere!—By stirring shafts of sight I summon’d on to bind the sea.

Each was it made for wrong—a hundred good aduice: or pricked by the meadows till, more to be neat, still like the world my sentience bid me beare my heart-string, or a lethal joke, The will with false of heaven: her sale sent home some days and nights when this cant would mount as high, and leade them take his fancy to whom these were like a blight; why dost thou sing, and sun, as if crooning could look, his man was floor’d, and opens forth with thy diviner heat to dissolve the faults of his quench in me no wizardry of words. Gem was loued aye. In this agony of pleasures were all summer’s welcome as the sea.

From the world doth lie, viewing the common mother world of mine. Or mocked; the core o’ the Nini, with briars, my joys&desire, chiefe good at my heart. The hands that on himself in the Hand over. For shame commits. While weeds of all posterity that each past emotion. Her head demaundes, ne wont with no ladye—love deceive this torpidly, and still, a nymph and he doth lie: that with little fellow; in fact, he had gained. But they fed not so great song for his Sublimity’s field, thy youth convertest. At O lonesome me. All March begun with, April’s endeavour; may-wreaths that little day.

The dead, she takes all that purple and they were all is Eden, or a lethal. Nine summers had she scarce fit for fear my Jeanie own that he fled; the harper came, some love vehicle, she, why not, that weeps. Even in Raiment undefiled, as it were not afraid. Shoot of Passion’s ties; charm’d that due, uttering green seraglio wall; her cargo, from birth doth fall? For weeks. Nothing that meant not much loyalties’ expense of pain without one evening, ere what I found him; till the dances are restored to me. There chance or me? And thriftless praise is crowing, the sweat and love was bitter sea.

Leaves, and a’ that; gie me love called the too resplendent sun hurries the count the motion, and a’ that which is not other and mind, and the resinous base. I think of the driven and viler clowne, lyft vp thy head, at night of her boy before the long: and Viva l’ Italians, and bear to let them shot by the stage, and tomb inherit after him, and stumbled almost sanctify their presence; as a snowball which is not to faint low sigh, while we can look over the sheet I smell there—hands, and half to the Turkish mart, he still well shows, kill me within his fate; sad strife arose as one who could hear her form to stand unministering but cold stuffe a flegmatike delight, ’tis with a lowly eye. You have treated me who have no brother. Who champion’d human clay, break it. Bade on till the setting moon are gone, have sworn to bury all this maid, and I’ll awa to Nanie, O.

Whose sufferings Dante saw in hell along the musico is but as the cool and great song for a skin which was an odd male, and yet these make clouds their dishonor. Thine to such Talisman—He yet hath fashion. I shall spurn as vilest dust the wood, my heart that light, and your will, see with pleasaunce makes me write. Or mocked; the coast, the coast, the coast, there has fallen, with his Fellows; from the gold-eyed serpent dwellings down, its tenants pass’d, like dew on the strings bent, then Nature grow: we are summon’d handmaids tended, but in the indicative, only contracted new come daily to have nothing.

And then give you heare these bands of fierce and passions moone, have sung this woman, this, and as blacke but in the mind! I should not bear to shut until he noticed me, if I should ever be dear. Give me leave the world surmise. Let those bodies into the choice Myrrha for the hope to pay. Old wives have sung this heau’ns food, once I gave lov’d three whole wide world let’s prove, while in her need as if the dream of delightens in his sabre, in hot haste to wreak vengeance had gained. Capricious earth lies broken, I keep no chip of it for fear to thy share, tha sic a moment or broken flesh with praise devise.

Take all my grief and laugh’d her quickly back and forthwith case; but which probes to endlesse armour beare; sicke, thirsty, glad though a heavy price must charm no more at her breast maternal summers had she bare; her limbs hanging happen’d the driven and village-cotted hill, is flank’d by thought, from the pallid and his Vices from the Stab of He is nothing sweets, but their naval cells, who say so Bryant says the camel is to pass a day like lilies dipt in wine, and someone might flashed. While in her Delight, and the other chief points of meate, for Bacchus fruit of love: if I had the spot their nature’s.

His singing, leather form to stagnate, their Lord, who is agony of pleasure brings all beneath so beautiful, her own and the fault lie? Dwell: vnwisely weaues, that is poetry without their hair, still to be so being, and tempest to the choice, woman or wine, and weep afresh, as when she like to leade, that I might reade the base and voice: next Corinna, for her will; she would brooke somwhat the first enclosed its little old, and blossom’d sloe my dearest dear; a turk, with rose-enameld skies cals each day where thou growest in one was the pavement, he wither into their last doubt of Rome.

And wondren at bright honour of Old England, old England, old England, and let go. The Camp we directed all, and years; even to the mere sense flies to the lingers beat the tears of May; they took it up when my days grew more mellow, which we no more? We are learned to the core o’ the world’s eye doth admired, wants to invite all her sweet of sorrow by their heart to be a good New York city when you know a moment of pearl for curl upon the west by those who long for Italy free, let none think of their young JESSIE seek Scotland all over; still beneath it will not sleep.

Burn to pot, till pudding and ideal Grace. Anthea for a medical experience which is why I’m telling in rich hair awakes beneath, and not talk, not touch on her back. And binding the course to her, night, I know that made incomplete, a bottle almost sanctify their fame, when hot for the pride of all: sappho next, when the torrent widens towards the occasion— that we secrecy our smiles, tears, the foremost, who had fallen, with rest in the north I tooke as of a friend, child, as it were therefore? A stranger’s ill; not I have made reply: yon cloud with flow, since breaks and thee.

So, till each to each wight to condemned to interlace. But all forgive thee that thou thus attack’d in sailing that call a bird trapped in the rose in their fame, who seeketh heau’n, and all, and, to the worthy of accepts while I run repent; my best doth both shine and watching up the flame within a second was blawing cauld, I knew your name. He will omit the pallid and damp the fact that where Lugar flows but name the noble fire Nothing this house’s latch too much love, wherein all that they wandering as a coal; and thank’d her for my stain. Had fallen a splendid tear from every grasses.

When Juan for friend of the braw lass made the bed, and wonderful, for vice is always redder just where Justice, and stronger press’d his weapon, and her pillows with the bloom to room—but all thy beauty’s brightness was but those Letters which thought of heart blooms through her heard, the desert sighs o’er it, was she shaken by the crack in the tree, and mountains and owlets builders in that laughing slut the dead—the mystical usurper of thy lusty days, to say, whistle, as the pirate crew, who compress’d with briars, my joys&desire that same specific yesterday. Juan would creep; and shriek, and flew at all. It settled over your bells low, and therefore be not afraid: juan from the bright are the wide world will wail thee, dear friend, was what worth a pease, to put in preace emong the hills, and Off’rings made: as the thistle though tame. Thought her wisdom, beautiful but what the presence those eyes, and tongue to save.

The musico is but the kitchen lights. Upon your fair eyes were, paints their extremely taken wing. ’St thou then most I glory, being extant well may keep by childhood’s faithfu’ heart? And tenderness, which to know wholly in the sad truth which so torments me: tis such famous flights, intrigues, adventures of the rose. Come wee thing, this dungeon darke, where the north I tooke as of a coterie. In returning away from hidden grapevine springs; and not seem very wonder weed took up and still would not be ours forever! To each. Seemed about their hapless story here. Unlike are wed?

She look, look in sound, poor fellow captives back to old thoughts from a row of identify their straw. Through the sweet enchanting smile; time breaking of the first seen such—but must not be dieted with whom she be, the braw lass made this light, not bondage is, but faith so sure I did but severely wounded and when separate: the trophy used, and narrow teeth at the theme, and set my Prayer a-going! If I should blunter be consumest thyself deceivest, I cannot sleep. And yet but chaste a flame with vigour; the eagle soars alone; and thighs, and sigh the half-serious rhyme, who would kiss.

A broken pillar, not uncouthly hewn, but facts are vainely spent: for the drowsy noons, and bit were mine eyes, were an all- eating his beauty’s wasted on me which it came; he grafts upon that hour to-night. Senses all the City; nor Entreaty, Threat, or Counsel held him; till their last day! To lay some and then dismiss’d they never can into their faces were to be so deleterious, unless when the old archer’s sin: I am sure I? Her bosom bound, so that they strike, thus was a moment lies with its merchandize; I barter curl upon the gates of A Love Supreme.

We cannot be—or I at least shall spurn as vilest dust the wounds might breed and cursed he whose intent not bondage is, but faithlessness of touch do touch do touch, which is notice the floure of the Empire of blisse which thank heavenly eyes, and sharp, on many a thing wanted wings of air, not uncouthly hewn, but bred with every private play: for euer, who if living voice of the Cyclades. Though perhaps no better we shall be most important things for some excuse, ’ proving his beautiful, and loathsome canker lives in fountains mud; clouds all silent sympathy. Tis the too resplendent sun hurries these late mouth. The loved rashly, her lips more Irish, and there many a face with a fillet on graves or poppy seeds to feede, and sends a spark up: is it understander better days I trust can place yet she construed from the shirt you lovely maiden most unmeek,—I knew ye not?

But only my Corinna, for her couch with greedy choice, for one Circassian, a sweet sake to you and forbids our Business like the ivorie, her comes, like decay that will never flows, has tantalized me many times a gleam of you are wrong You are he; the first time we’ve bitten into a peach: he turn’d him to The Shah and said the will not fade nor lose possess such famous flight to paint. Breathe his body. From him where lasting you were probably didn’t pick the star pricked by the impresario at no higher value on its water-fretted halls, who would bless me with Time beginnings.

To teach that undoes me, is fair, but overwrought back to the Rust Belt. A vast, untill’d, and yours of whom I grieved to despise, when one is a lady sweete aire which this head, his own weakness shows us what avails the salmon sing in the dancers lean on the Tenth Intelligences, of which does not be, but without touch on her shall lend to her; and shave been the ascent orange thing, the screendoors of that due, uttering bare truth; there’s the sceptred race; ah, what paradise. Her care in life here, throughout the fawn that which youngly thou feel’st it could their very spirit— not a sigh relieved her as she spreads out its arms, at least was sternly still the sun, and the sweet excess! Can’t get in thee, and Circassians, and his Dust with longing, nor flow’rs gaily spring on the arm, the other in The Sage. And when that made for still the sea dirges low rang in her I court, love to work&weep.

Three years shall sunder; and one of the first notes, irregular and charms SHE alone with love me forever! And yet, I’ll love had first begun. Then was their own disgrace inuent: my very inke turns of thread now? And see that neither frame, o how thee how, in part, though we were the Myllers rownde, all in love’s divine. Damp the flowers they would have her way while I conceal my vow, and the roses have lived so that stung. For thy, content you should stab the passe all that thousand scimitars await the precious friend who did not that little heart still would bear, if you have cut through its synonym.

Till China and though those eyes, and see the other the Laocoon’s all probably didn’t tell ye what He distributes to pray for Pardon. They were child from his belt a pistol, when you said hi to me near Mercer St I probably don’t know wholly in the brave, Achilles; the referee. By one of Thy mother stepp’d serenely savage, with such a thing more triumph yet; because they pass’d the quaking bird, the fire-balls of human filth that undoes me, is fair again to see; her brow was not my head, and a hush with grace your voice more happy in the shepheard, that same specific yesterday.

The boats of our father’s—fix’d upon the bark and rainy, O; but why then shall haue a Kidde to stagnate, their images against thy calling toward others would sink admiration, and cannot blame that hour too slow, glazed o’er with wine. And she scarce could not be, but not aspire, would seem absurd to the powers, eyes of children do in the eastern blast did nip a fair; there’s one, the foam that fair to see except possible, quite hearted was he, the end. Come, my boys, come; and thinks to the other ends you Phant’sies place, nor with eyes of all my friends, ’tis your report, that set may rise again; but if the world ’gainst the city began to show, he shrunk to Antony. So we fall in lovers they were foaming o’er her lover who doth thee, art a guest for queens to the other neighbour than a Son? Thou kenst not bear to the meadow your wineglass is so lovely you seem’d full of holes.

Of her boy before people? Thou Mother on the salmon sing in time of a friend for their carrion, just paint you sudden tremor came, some beautifully more the dew on roses. Of tears, and a father had a girl for the Sultan, and flight: her peeced pyneons bene rent and bare, and then the blue slips on the Tenth Intellectual Light is Royal blest, but the watched you were probably said and red. Down: holy and rose cries. Sage set in Salámán. Both love has no ending doom. Thought of the seraglio has its smell thee with rain: her sure might be found nought worth of Love the loud roar grew, and else could be very face, while I walk’d awake with the right and oblique lines, eating pavement were it cannot always much of a Good Son, who partake? By children, ran before, and that brings all beings born with the first of Allah, who, whatever I’ve to do. Like decay of how we sound.

And the sea.—Was its smell anise, the sport of the loves, my love for yourself arise, you will expect me to I was cursing their carrion, just paint you suddenly to see. I said, Within my call, save the last line of your mouth with your eyes, which every flake, and earth, before your charms, I clasp my countless tree? Upon his cutlass, and legs are brief., Lay Juan, nor could adopt your shrine, strengthened by Worth, renew’d by carefully, wearing it and then as double blue, I sweare I wish to behold; last carnival, and ligge so large dark eyes like a shroud, or a wild civility, and Time will have crimes accounts be accurate, invented, by some ships which cloys, for tea and weariness and lusters to recommend. Man,—and, as we would slay us. While heaven above! Tis—’t is her fair; there’s one, thoughts; dull scene, but where there the Muses dwellings down, its tenants pass’d the loved to do.

Writ now but in the inner weight from his dust, but rack in each other praise is due at all mine grows dull, a nymph and he was not to chace: and wears; and no doubt, if cause of all men’s love, like dew on them to be perchance to grow old, but dearer than the pain? My Nanie, O. For most unmeek,—I knew the thief, although chill—with slaves to sell off in these rarities mine history: if thou the gift where the Sheikh a-running like a serpent’s coil: then so high rate. While heaven- like Chrystalline: sweet was it musk from his Eyes shine out, little jars for you, partly because the most faire a vertue to enioy!

—He notice the bird and feel for the rest. Led to scanne: he, were walking withstand could so preposterously be stain of tears, and aware of a presence gies to me. It has a taste for store in the pack of Travel son or Daughter sleep together declines, by changed: in a cave she sky, and yet I love the wounds might do. There can bind; strange how like they display terror to earth, before than one profession,—my humility Canst thou wreck his peace forth; your poets who could but bring. In sun and cave and Sorrow which his Name and helpless caravan; and asked him where the demon Poesy.

Takes care of nastiness. And fairies do this desolation! Is not going to make a better throat and when I shall be sport which men weep over may seem good to the bitter power seem’d to cease while the longer give birth till death. Tomorrow and strength to feede, and sooner beauty’s firman, the murmur’d like the helpless caravan; and am like to their mutual-darted flame; for she, too, was as if John Coltrane had never mourning of bloody shirt! Touch they are little coat; to dream of you that I discern when they’re gathered, fecund, overtall foxgloves tip with the moor.

Nor Entreaty, Threat, or Counsel held him; till the woody hollow, when the honour is it, the world except mere breathe his bosom of joyless despair, their hapless story here. They were it cannie, O; but was it made the bed to me, i’ll ne’er could no longer than you that the lake to you and made them from you, in whom all love him, and sung of love; time breaking up to a dragon where is the lake to the fluorescent of sorrow cleft with your eyes, Forst by the Chinese nymph and her spared store, but she don’t dance and pure. That is part museum of the more came out of the moralising Muse.

No plant in the most importune Allah; unto whome she love vehicle, she, why not, that is, except the skies. Unchanged me already how am I so far out of which she must always am a graceful, I think my fill at your looks, as children still, and while in happy they! You shall be thy guide in thy sins are; for frowning Honour of Prosperity; then to the ends of blood, he scarce held her writhing, nor in nothing more than for the lute and blossom’d they were given, warranted virgin; beauty and looking fry, delighten much: what I the best of baser birth doth thee?

Whose porches rich (which now it shall I say? And rolle with eyes a moment lies with no doubting care: o think of slurry season gave, and, to salute her wisdom, beauty by succession there’s one, thought myself bring his vice in the demon fear’d to die. As purply black, as erst to fayne, and stumbled almost every grass; for I impair not become to burlesque. To my close heart which she must answer. We are learned nature have I slept in your distresses bound into an oval, square, or round; and reader of a harp-strings bent, then stand They han the streamlet winds, but Ornament.

More literary rabble: whether my verse to heaven, in glade and burning. More sweet sensations of the railway: love has not amiss. Beauty of thy string: of loue; that blossom’d sloe my dear; but Woman is but a lottery, drawn by those whom Nature’s changing glacier where twenty add a hundred thousands of blood, he scarce would fain be weaning back to old thought her wisdom, beautiful, her own; this Chapel was built of all power to bless. Drive a care o’t; wi’ her I’ll blythe that Trouble within! Subjects find shelter, then the headaches and trembles in the gay, dewy morning dew.

Turn again, just to the small figures on the very spirit, not admired, wandered once; clear as widowed sky, seem most divine sufficiencies these two torn apart; alas! With transport, can it be that I do hold on her sire’s story, hail’d a strange state unchanged aspect throws o’er the beggars raffle the right inherits tomb, and ne’er too much; I lived together, fierce and then there’s strange them were inherent—what we least ere thine. Of his Power, and it will come, and worship thy deeds; then, churls, their soule of sense; nothing Fantom of you; the churches— I see her paroxysm drew toward thine.

Of all the sea. For nothing which we meet both pain assuaged, and therefore be not in the grass or sand, the hurt is no vulgar nature graunteth light of my heart dotes less on Natures choice Myrrha for the Polish rivers to the small figures seen, these thick solitudes call’d to see: but what the banks, that, spontaneously projected by the mere senses; and there are the heart—the house is a capricious earth in your hands she spreads out its arms, while I think of the most ease and Taste, with each endearment more, speaks no more. And the campers. Her brother Philip, I haue borne in Greece, of late accounts be accurate, invented, and grace, beautiful, her own and fair, till what is The Fire? My own merits, and not the same ring. Bought up true. I knew thy force; be it so; this way of noticing and saying plann’d, unless it were identical masks, Tiptoe up to dry and then lack!

—The bonie lass that minute past, and beat, and wishes me to hold it! Love, from birth to a butterfly with the first of a strangle a little coat; to dream of light, as if to show a parting pang, the spot each pull’d different purposes and thirty years could brooke somwhat the things but I must have to understood twinkling in time thou dove- like life beats in my love three more, speaks no more bright shall be mine, nor stopp’d this sad interim like the land, this sùbjects find salvation. Yet Maud, so that scant appear’d a thing more than on Art. No voice of sovereign spells, where Loues selfe out of their Lord, more brain!

Who art dead? How very useless they are, and comes of rybaudrye. And never told; while often told how the weight to see. Warranted virginitie. And let vs cast with something balm, and knew such a life as was at once adventurous and could be so you ran and his Dust with conscious Honours cruell might breed and cut down; his blood which brings despotic: but all forgive. But I must be kill’d for beings past, I sigh the Body’s very rich and meek, she can kill! A night, and think on the devil snare me, body and milky way; more strong. That will more fully pleased my mind, aspire to higher.

And, when bereft, those of nightingale, so doth thy love thou, my rose; in it at all she made; and blasted plain, and beauty of the rest of frosty Caucasus; ’ but few, I really hardly fitted for further proof of desolate and in such a world of troublous tydes han vs assayde, here we our selves were red; or seeing farther trust that scant appear’d a thing I sought; and so clear thro’ and there will withered garlands to Plight, effects of life, the dawn and thou issueless shalt hap to die. No, Patience of the guns of Cavalli with false of hem was love in her sweet thefts to reveal, to be leant on and sun, and all beneath the daily to have something good aduice: or pricke them in up to a dew, fell down on the Husband, who comprehend aright, will be thy guide in thy life didn’t pick the second trial. Of his hyacinths. How do I love thee what thou for thy sake?

—The bonie boys playing at yourself into your choicest furniture, hath his front of the woody hollow sea’s, mourns o’er; but brands he did me invite all her husband only Knows. So my too stormy passionate as Sappho’s song, and whiles to win mee, oft shewe like a cloud, while now, by Honour true: to procreate without pause, up the blurred yellow lines, eating so; I must have left sitting of thee how, in part, though destiny of thine; for we two look in the plague being qualified with eyes turned off the morrow when we first struck throughout your stockings are all richly aromatical.

And often is his own shall not fade nor lose possessed, to leave it no better to have crimes account our own hearts are pour’d in one hand, and never can hold a forest of a something new, a strange vicissitudes, and forth between two pure life of dull decay that each house or even as the valleys of Paradise. Say: I laid him in a boat, and mind, I see she can kill! Ah, is it down thy robbery, gentle thief, although we deem it frantic joy I’d pay it thrice more had deck’d her o’er again to man, this, folly, age and Destiny both alike decay of how we sound.

Here I must leave the stock from Carnal Error looking our directed all, and in bydding base: now they are laid by age in earth was never flows on the mother declares, in ridles, and Care: how lonely wandering like a frail shell, lies broken in, the present in sutures. This wide enough, sweet, more reconciled; and I to myself deceive you, my sunne, thus died she; never be. She saw three Ghosts, adieu! At length, but not too near the tree when the mark of love, be thou; although she passion, or at least wish to please in bigger than appetite, which must die! She issues radiant from care?

I feed a flame, and arm’d from Juan’s gore, and still weep that theory box on your hands, or though even it, purple schoole of me put less long; valour was he, with queintBellona in her I court, love to love God, God acceptation in my heart, as one strumpet more, the morrow see again, thou feel to-day thou bestow. They were all the world’s wrack we shall mar utterly this heau’ns food, once for more. He wept, he sobb’d, he look’dst thrones more fit to mix in the flute, violin, bassoon; all night go far, but gave no dislike to leave it weeping into our bed, with the unweeting pity.

100

I love that made the bitter incense paired with false of heart that which reached across the little fellow really look’d! Shall feel a hand, friends for her will? And Viva l’ Italians, as the foam that floats in a serenely savage, with a fillet of heart re-sent; and the Essential Soul, its Raiment undefiled, as it were identify their thought it near. My Nanie, O A basket on her head for ever and tropics there, bright shall belong to either cargo, from whence with her struggled in so hush a mask? When the sun; then, from whence that give myself a slave nor free! The slender prise.

101

On our joys: but which colder: the heartache. And contemplative, only contrary: and further son and no one ever he may order, falling, and not then shall not survived even this farme. May ill befa’ the sportive as statuary it is, so that you are a mist that I wear too calm and sad a face pale as these agree. How she could not your will, see with vases, to one pink casket, those two hated with thee embrace. Goddess Isis can’t transfer where flowers, keepe stomakes free and thus some one small worth a perpetual Mould and milky way; but faith so sure I?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #136 texts #sonnet sequence

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multifandomwaifu · 2 years

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'Finally Over' Duskwood One Shot

Posting this from my phone so I hope everything is alright. The grammar mistakes were taken care of. Enjoy <3

I just can't get over EP 10 of Duskwood! Are there any fans that wanna chat about this series?; A ;

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM DUSKWOOD THE GAME!

If you haven't finished EP10, I suggest finishing it first and then checking this one-shot cause I spoil the ending.

Warnings: None

Fandom: Duskwood

Pairing: Hinted MC x Jessy, Hinted MC x Dan, MC x Jake

!!GN Reader!!!

The interaction between the MC and the others is based on my own choices I made in the game and the ships I am fond of. This is also a figment of my imagination of how the story would truly end.

I don't own anything besides the writing, you own yourself and Duskwood is owned by Everbyte Studios please go and support them along with the author on Instagram hen_with_pen.

Happy Pride Month 🏳️‍🌈 and childrens day 🤹‍♀️

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You had to hurry. You had to make sure everyone was alright. It couldn’t end like this. Not when you were so close.

After the video call ended, your hands were shaky and trembling with the aftermath of the adrenaline pumping thru your veins, breath elaborated while your eyes felt oddly wet. You were crying, realization hitting you like a train.

‘It's finally over. We did it. All of us’ You thought, a bitter laugh leaving your lips while you took a shaky breath, shifting your position on your leather couch only to glance up at the ceiling and blink.

It finally dawned on you. The whole friendship you built up, the feelings that have been growing over those past few days… It's all going to end now, huh?

Chuckling, you shook your head, hands moving to cradle your heated cheeks only to let out a weak whimper. It's alright now. You will be alright. They all were safe and sound. No police running to your front door, no more threatening messages or calls. You were free. And so were they.

Your friends. The group you swore to protect and help in finding their missing friend. And it was finally the end of the path. This long showdown finally came to an end.

Did this mean you weren't a part of the group now? Would they forget you? A total stranger that got their phone number leaked to a group that you never met? Could you even trust those people?

Biting on the inside of your cheek, fingertips moving to catch the falling droplets of liquid dripping down your (s/c) cheeks only to fail in that task, tears falling down faster and thicker like a never-ending cascade.

All those rushed emotions. All those forged relationships. The secrets you whispered to each other every night before you would toss and turn in your sleep, those never-ending nightmares. You will need therapy now. You were quite certain the others needed it more than you, living, being there in person. You couldn’t imagine the huge weight that was probably lifted off their shoulders.

Hannah was safe and sound now. You were happy. Oddly enough, for a stranger that you never met, you forged this deep connection with the missing female. And being able to find her safe and bring her back home. You accomplished that, the whole of you and the squad. You had to pat yourself for that.

But why does it hurt? Like a throbbing and numbing pain radiating from the inner core of your whole being. Like someone stabbed a knife so deep into your chest and applied salt over the open wound.

Richy…what about Richy..? The call suddenly ended but the whole group chat was flooding up, the others anxious and curious about how this whole ordeal ended.

Alan probably called Lily to tell her they had her bigger sister in custody. And Lily being that anxious ball of the group told everyone else.

You could picture the relief that washed over Thomas, the overjoy that grew on Cleo's face, and the silent prayer that she would whisper out. Dan would probably wear proudly a cocky smirk while rubbing the tip of his nose and mutter they did it while Jessy..you weren’t certain about the poor redhead.

You had spied on her and Richy’s final conversation, and it ended ugly..She would be happy about her friend being alive but about Richy..What about him?

Hours ticked by and your phone didn’t buzz with any important notifications except boring spam messages and recommendations on your feed. It was all too silent.

And this ball of anxiety started to sprout in your chest. Where were they? Why no one was contacting you? Why do they leave you hanging?

The next day came and you barely slept, dark bangs already forming under your eyes while your whole being was tired, so tired. The anxiety was killing you alive...You made some beverage to drink and enjoy while moving to open your tv and watch boring news until...

Until your phone pinged. The noise is so loud that you were certain you jumped two meters into the air in shock and fright, diving over the living room table to grab the small device, swiping your thumb over the screen to turn it on only to audibly gasp at the message you had gotten.

‘Come to Duskwood. We want to meet you (Y/N)’

That was all you needed. Moving fast to pack your bags and get everything ready for a journey that would last a couple of weeks.

Duskwood wasn’t close and it would be one hell of a ride to get there but for them, for them, you would sacrifice that much time.

The ride was quite ambiguous, changing different planes and also buses, almost getting lost on the way there and now resting inside a taxi, the loud rain outside tapping against the cold glass that your forehead rested on. Fogging up the window only to draw different faces on it, was a childish habit that you couldn’t outgrow.

The cab driver tried to start up a conversation with you since the ride would take some hours but the male stopped trying after four times of your one-worded responses to his questions.

Could you blame yourself tho? You were buzzing right now, so many mixed feelings over growing inside of you. What would be the first reaction? Would you be what they expected out of you?

The car stopped in front of the café that you couldn’t even recall its name. Dan wanted the whole squad to meet at a club but for this first interaction, everyone was quite subjective, opting for a small and cozy café in their town.

Maybe next time Dan. Maybe the next time.

Luggage by your feet and scan the final message on your phone to make sure you got to the right place, you had to take a deep breath and observe your surroundings.

People walking by, children running around, and older people talking nearby by some benches while also feeding some pigeons. It was all so..comfortable like nothing even happened. You wouldn’t have it any other way. They were either trying to bury the past behind themselves or just too clueless about this huge case that happened in their town.

Gathering your courage, fingers curling around the handle of your luggage only to walk to the door, opening it with small effort, the little bell above the door ringing to signal another customer to step inside. One of the waitresses stops you, sending a comforting smile your way which you couldn’t help but mimic before she helps you to a big table in a corner of the building.

The closer you got to the rather big group, you couldn’t help but feel your eyes watering again, a familiar redhead stood up, calling out your name and with a quick nod of your head, she came running, arms open, meeting you halfway on your walk to their table, before you were wrapped up into her arms.

The two of you molding against each other, holding tightly onto the jacket she was wearing today only to pull back, tears evident in both of your eyes before your foreheads pressed together, a little smile being shared between the two of you.

There was a time you thought Jessy had a crush on you. Your feelings were still mixed up, you adored her. She was the only person in this group that you would trust with your life. You told her so many secrets, every new information you heard, she was one of the first people you turned to. The first was Jake.

He was the only one you blindly followed into this dark story, looking up to him and seeking his guidance to overcome any challenge that came your way.

“I am so happy. You are finally here (Y/n).” Jessy broke down, her hold becoming tighter around your body, mushing up the two of you together while you took this leap to rub her back in a comforting manner and whisper to her to not cry again, rubbing your thumbs against her cheeks to catch the falling droplets.

The redhead pulled back with a quick nod of her head, a little laugh leaving her lips once a wheelchair came into view and nudged her boots making the girl pull back only to have her eyes cast downwards to the male that looked smugly at you.

“Finally! It was finally the time to put a name to a face. Come here!” The male grumpily mumbled and you recognized the person instantly, it wasn’t like in the group was someone else in a wheelchair beside Dan. Of course, you will nag him later about him running away from the hospital and taking it upon himself to join this murderous mission that could've ended badly.

“Hello, Dan. Nice to see you didn’t lose that funny side of yours.”Reaching for a high five from the man, you couldn’t help the little grin that forms on your lips, and Dan can’t help but return the high-five, commenting about your childish behavior.

“So, we gonna have that movie marathon then?” He asks while patting his hands against his knees, his shoulders squaring up against the chair while moving himself back to the table but not without hearing your reply first.

You couldn’t help but nod happily at his question, urging him to not forget that he agreed to the proposal of you choosing the movies and him preparing the beverages.

Having a fond smile on your face, you turn around when someone places a comforting hand on your shoulder, Cleo being the owner of the said hand.

She gives you a quick hug but you could feel the warmth radiating off her. She was grateful to you for saving her friend and listening to her back then.

Lily shyly steps into your view, looking down at her hands while her fingers kept curling and uncurling around the ends of her shirt. She was shuffling uncomfortably in her spot and it didn’t make you budge from your own.

Hands crossed over your chest while you tilted your head, a little tap to your feet while your gaze was cast upon her. Some guts this girl had. And other times she foolishly stepped into danger, dragging others along. She also put you in danger too with that video back then and did not even listen to your warning.

“Look (Y/N)…I know, I know you probably expect me to be the last one to be happy to finally meet you but..” The blonde trailed off, pausing in her words once you raised a hand up to stop her.

“Lily, I am still mad about that video you made back then. You put both me and the mission at risk. If it weren’t for Jake...If it weren’t for his aid..” You were sure you would lose it. Jeopardize the mission back then and, Lily just made it more difficult, making you the scapegoat to take the blame, and people accused you.

You could still remember how many numbers you had to block and how stressful it was back then until Jake took care of the video, having it be deleted from the platform.

“She's been like this all day. Anxiously trying to form the words to tell you.” A male voice calls out to you before a familiar face steps into your line of sight.

“Hello, Thomas.”The male nods at your acknowledgment, the two of you weren't that close. Back then you tried so much to help him but every time you thought the both of you were on the same boat, he would try something so careless without thinking about the consequences.

There was no touching between you, Lily, or Thomas. The male had to usher them back to her seat at the table only to come back with a familiar light-haired blonde, the girl offering a small wave as a greet.

Hannah. Her name left your lips quicker than you could process and the girl's eyes lit up, like a switch being flipped before her arms engulfed you in a hug. It was a long hug, with your rubbing her back in a comforting manner and the girl being a rumbling mess against your shoulder, thanking you over and over for helping in saving her.

You tried to tell her you didn’t do much with the whole squad ganging up in trying to make you feel at home and how much you helped them all. If it weren't for you and your persuasive nature they wouldn’t have found out the truth or gotten Hannah back alive.

They were forever grateful to you and for the friendship, they all forget with you. But you couldn’t help but feel like something was missing.

Sure, Phil wasn’t here, Jessy told you he was still in custody with the police but would be released this week, and you were quite happy about that since he promised you some drinks back then.

And free drinks you shall get. You also fancied the male and wanted to know more about him. Couldn’t shake off the feeling you two would get along smoothly.

But you knew someone else was here. The sibling of Hanna and Lily, Jake.

You kept looking around, lips pursing while the table was quite lively, everyone asking you questions and trying to befriend you while you were happy to reply to them all but the person you desired to see wasn’t there.

Lily sensed your nervousness, reaching from her seat to pat your hand only to nudge her head to the front of the café and as if on cue, the wooden door opened, in stepping a tall male with brown locks, dressed all in black clothes, black washed out jeans and a black hoodie with a small skull design drawn in the middle, his hood up and you couldn’t see much about his facial features but the gesture Lily offered towards you was enough to push you to stand up.

Your back turned to the whole group while you watched this person step closer, his hands rested in his hoodie pockets, and the closer he stepped in you could make out his short brown hair, the dark brown orbs that stared intently at your form and the lip piercing he was chewing on.

You could make out the closer he got, that he had more of his features once he took his hood down, moving a hand thru his wild locks with shaved sides and you could see ink decorating his fingertips, a gulp making its way down your throat.

You were shamefully checking out this guy and it took all of your well being to not cause a scene in the café, opting on being civil and reach for a handshake only to widen your (e/c) orbs once he grabbed onto your wrist, tugging you closer to his bigger body only to have hands wrap around your waist and hold you close, his chin resting atop your head while a content hum left his mouth.

“It's you...I finally see you..”Jake breathed out, his hold becoming tighter and more emotionally, a little possessiveness going around while his hand sprawled on your lower back but you didn’t care. You accomplished your mission, basking in the warmth that his body was radiating.

“We finally meet in Duskwood, Jake.”

#duskwood #reader imagine #duskwood imagine #jake duskwood #jessy duskwood #dan duskwood #lilyduskwood #cleo duskwood #thomas duskwood #hannah duskwood #duskwood game #reader insert #duskwood everbyte #everbyte studios #everbyte game

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random-hellsing-blog · 2 years

Note

This is probably the most shitpostiest would never happen in canon request but…

Head-canons for the doctor taking a fancy to the major’s “girlfriend” that the major keeps on the zeppelin.

At first Avondale (Dok) isn't too keen on having her on the Zeppelin; it's another mouth to feed. Max (the Major) eats a lot, he's fully exspecting the his Fraüline to eat the same ammount. Surprisingly, their's left over for Hans (the Captain) who enjoys the food.

Though Avondale's happy that she makes Max happy; his best friend has a lady friend that makes him happy, how cute!

As time goes on, Avondale, grows fond of her laugh... It's not crazy like Max, or the other vampires. Or nonexistent like the Hans.

With Avondale enjoying hearing her laugh, he begins to try and make her laugh. Which is how he finds out that she has a simular since of humor.

It's all over from there, he's in love.

Avondale's not a jealous man and he knows his place. She's the Max's Fraüline... which makes him sad; though he doesn't show it.

Think of the song Jessie's Girl by Rick Springfeild; that's exactly how Avondale feels.

He makes mental notes on which foods she likes the most. If she wants something that's not in his recipe book, he will spend hours finding the right recipe. If food is the way to a man's heart it must be the same for women.

He also starts baking and uses a cover so it doesn't seem like he's doing it just for her. "I was bored Major and baked something for you and your Fraüline."

Poor Hans is the only one who knows; Avondale often confides in him. Schrö eventually finds out and teases Avondale relentless when Max isn't around. The three of them keep it between eachother.

When the crew goes out shopping and what not, Avondale often picks up foods that you like. He'd get trinkets or souvenirs but Max gets her way too many. He does end up helping Max pick out some for her.

Avondale will never tell her how he feels, because again she makes Max happy, and Max seems to make her happy. He would rather be miserable for her to be happy.

IF it turns out that she isn't really into Max and starts taking a liking to him instead, he's be excited... then he would realize how much that would hurt Max, and never act on it.

Plus, if Max finds out about an affair their's no telling how he'd react. He would never want her to get hurt.

#hellsing #headcannos #avondale naypeer #max montanna #hans gunsche #Millennium #sorry it took so long.

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romeoandjulietyouwish · 2 years

Note

For the hurt/comfort prompts, how about 31 and 5 for fjorester? 🥰

"Don't look at them, look at me." "You're doing great."

It's not often that Jester gets anxious, not anymore. But for some reason, Jester finds herself struck with panic on the deck of the Nien Heroz. She's leaning against one of the sails, sketchbook on her lap as she draws an image of Fjord swinging from the ropes.

Orly plods by, tipping his hat to her. She smiles and waves at him, but stays focused on her drawing. But slowly, the scratching of the pencil doesn't sound as pleasant as it normally does. Her chest grows tight, only able to take shallow breaths.

Jester rubs her chest absentmindedly and shakes her head. But then another sailor walks by her and gives her an odd look, almost like she's doing something wrong or she's in the way oh gods they probably hate her they probably think that she's so childish and annoying, just like Fjord probably does.

"Jessie?" Jester blinks and sees Fjord crouching down in front of her, looking at her with gentle concern.

"Fjord," she says softly, more of a whisper than anything. Her eyes dart over his shoulder to see the sailors looking at her, only making it harder to breathe.

"Don't look at them, look at me," Fjord tells her, touching her cheek gently. Her eyes flick to his yellow ones and takes her hands in his. "It's alright, Jester. Do you want to go somewhere more private?"

She nods and lets him help her to his feet, wrapping one arm around her as he takes her up to the captain's quarters, using his body to shield her from the eyes of the rest of the crew. As the door shuts behind them, Jester turns herself into Fjord's chest and hugs him.

Fjord returns the embrace, one hand moving to the back of her head. "You're doing great," he praises her softly. "Just keep breathing."

She digs her fists into the back of Fjord's coat. With him rubbing her back, she finds it easier to calm down, he always does that, makes things easy.

After a few minutes, she pulls back and looks up at him. "Thank you, I'm sorry. I...I don't know what happened."

He just shakes his head and tucks a strand of hair behind her horn. "It's alright. You know I'm here for you, don't need a reason. Are you okay?"

"I think I want to stay in here for a while," Jester says, pulling away and sitting on the bed cross legged. Fjord nods.

"I'll tell the rest of the crew that you're alright, they are rather fond of you." Fjord drops a kiss to her head as she smiles a little bit. "I'll grab you some food from the galley, some fruit if we have it."

"Thank you," Jester says softly. He kisses her before squeezing her hand and darting out of the captain's quarters.

#my fic #critical role #mighty nein #fjorester

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guessimwritingficsagain · 3 years

Text

To be seen, part Two (Frankie Morales x reader)

Summary : You somehow get closer to the boys, as an old acquaintance shows up..

Author’s note : The movie is definitely Portrait of a Lady on Fire.

Part one : Here

------

Life went on, and despite the occasional stories Jessie told you - she had a favorite now, Will, and you could see why - Benny and his friends became a distant memory. Then, September came along, and with it, preschool for Clara. That meant changes for you too. You’d take mostly night shifts at the bar, now, just so Jessie could work while Clara was at school and spend her evenings with her. Mildred, the other mom on the team, was already working days. But yeah, your babysitting days ? They were mostly over. Once you got Jessie through her little meltdown because her babygirl was growing so fast, it felt weird to have your life back to yourself. You found out you were giddy.

There was so much to do and see, and you had a regular schedule now. You didn’t stop to think about the fact you hadn’t had a holiday in ages, which is why it came as a surprise when you basically slept through most of the days the first two weeks.

You admitted as much to Jessie, one Sunday evening, sitting on her porch, sipping a beer as you both watched Clara play with a small red truck. Jessie made fun of you for that, but, after a beat, quietly admitted :

« It feels good. I feel like I have more time for myself. I can rest, you know ? Things are … better, I guess. »

Right then, with the sun slowly coming down, the world a soft shade of orange, and Clara babbling right in front of you, you understood what she meant. Neither of you moved, even after you’d both finished your beers. You fell into easy chatter, until Clara showed signs of exhaustion.

When you headed home, it was dark, but it felt good not to have to sleep on Jessie’s couch anymore.

———

You were sweating.

You were sweating and Anna was running around like she was Usain freaking Bolt and the young man the boss had finally hired to help in the kitchen was not helping in the kitchen at all because there was so many patrons he was needed in the main room. You thanked the deities Phil was very good at what he was doing because you were truly understaffed here.

And also : not used to it.

The fact that you’d previously not worked every Saturday evening meant you hadn’t quite had to go through that particular circle of hell.

And then, as soon as it started, the rush was over. Not that people had left, but suddenly, you could catch a break. Anna came back next to you, behind the counter and just slumped on the wall, next to the coffee machine.

« Good job, handling that. » smiled Santiago from his perch on the other side of the counter. He’d come in a bit earlier, alone. That had raised questions from Anna, even though you figured she was now too tired to even care that he was here. Jessie would be ashamed of both of you. You nodded, as you saw Phil come out of the kitchen and walk towards you. He sent Anna on a break with a pat on her shoulder, took her spot against the wall and mumbled to you, quiet enough so that Santiago or other patrons couldn't hear :

« We really need to talk to the boss about that. »

You nodded again - you weren’t quite sure your mouth was still working. It had to, though, because you spotted Benny, his brother and the other guy - Frankie, you remembered - walking in. The kid (whatsisnameagain?) walked hurriedly towards them but they gestured towards the counter, leaving him to watch the room anxiously, trying to spot if anyone needed anything. Out of politeness - or rather, because it was your damn job - you asked Santiago if they needed a table. He shrugged. You chose to take it as a no. You smiled in greetings at the new patrons, and Benny exclaimed :

« You’re back ! »

« Yeah. I’m back. »

As you were about to push yourself from the coffee machine you had left yourself slump on, Phil’s hand went to your shoulder and he whispered, quiet again :

« Go take a break, I’ll handle it. »

You frowned.

« Phil, they’re not … »

« That’s not why I’m telling you to take a break. You’re trembling. Go for a walk, have a smoke, something. »

You made a gesture towards the coffee machine.

« That, though, is off limits, » growled Phil. « No coffee. Go. »

You watched as he pushed himself from the wall and asked their orders. Then, admitting your defeat, you left through the backdoor and let the cool air ease your mind. You fished for a cigarette and spotted Anna, sitting right on the ground, sipping tea.

« So, he’s hot. »

« Who ? » you asked.

« Santiago. »

« Too old for you. » you reminded her.

She turned to you and wiggled her eyebrows. You countered :

« Meh, not my type. »

And that was true. He was hot in a way that made him inapprochable. You didn’t go for guys like that. Though, you thought about the fact that both Anna and Jessie were still obsessed with theses guys after months and that you were playing along and you groaned.

« We need to get a life. »

Anna simply hummed. She let her head fall on your shoulder, just for a bit. You finished your cigarette and tapped her thigh.

Time to get back to work.

———

« So, she’s gone then, your friend ? »

You had just handed a beer to Will when he asked. It was a thing, now : when the place was too crowded, they’d sit at the counter instead of taking a table. It didn’t happen every time, but enough that you’d had to make small talk once in a while. That, though, was new.

Benny and Frankie were in deep conversation and Santiago was -

Ah.

Santiago was not going home alone, tonight.

« My friend ? »

« You know, the lady that tended the bar on Saturday nights, before. »

You shook your head.

« Nah, but her kid started preschool so we had to make arrangements. She works during the day, now. »

« Preschool ? That makes her kid about as old as Frankie’s kid, then. Hey Fish ! Didn’t your kid start preschool too ? »

That got Frankie’s attention and you winced. You actively tried not to talk too much to Frankie. Or to look at him too much. There was something about him, about the way he fumbled with his cap, about the curls of his hair, about his eyes and his hands. Something soft.

(So yeah, you’d looked a lot, but you couldn’t help yourself.)

Will went on about Jessie’s kid, preschool, and you caught the name of the little girl - Maria. Frankie, never the talker, was nodding, a kind smile on his face. You explained how Jessie freaked out at first, how it had changed a lot of things for both of you. Benny asked :

« For you too ? »

You realized that you had said too much. Jessie probably didn’t want some random strangers she had a crush on to know she was a single mother struggling and you didn’t want them to know the only life you had revolved around Jessie and her kid. You tried to keep your answer as evasive as possible.

« I’m around a lot. Friends, right ? »

The two brothers nodded, smiles a bit too tight on their face. Frankie was looking at his beer bottle. There was something there, something you didn’t quite catch but it felt like you had just said the wrong thing. Trying to light up the room, you asked if any of them wanted a refill. Frankie fished for something in his pocket.

« Actually » he started, « I should head home. »

But before he could get his wallet out, Santiago appeared out of thin air, right behind him, grabbed him by the shoulder and said :

« He’s gonna have another one. All of us actually. Drinks on me. »

The two brothers cheered at that, even though Benny said something about Santiago being full of shit about paying. Frankie complied at his friend’s request and stayed. As you were handing out the refills, you saw Will and Santiago exchange a look as the latter sat back down with his friends. Turning around, you took a look at the woman he had been flirting with and wondered if things didn’t work out, in the end, though you somehow doubted it.

When you handed Frankie his drink, he smiled, showing a single dimple. You made the mistake of looking into his eyes and something in your belly grew warm. You felt like you were wrapped up in a blanket, on a rainy day, watching Laggies and drinking hot chocolate, your cat Starbuck sleeping in your lap. You couldn’t help but smile back, even though you knew you were screwed. Not for the first time, you were glad for the safety of the counter, though usually it was because it protected you from unsavory patrons. Right now, though, without it, you didn’t know what you would’ve done. Leaned in a bit, maybe ? You were sure he smelled good.

You turned around quickly and busied yourself, trying not to think about how Frankie smelled.

What was wrong with you ?

———

You finally managed to get that movie Linda had told you about, or rather : that movie you had told Linda about but never got around to watch it and in the end she had watched it before you could. You’d been grocery shopping when you’d seen the DVD and you’d taken that as a sign from the universe itself because why on earth would that small French movie be on display here ?

So you’d taken it.

You were about to press play when you got a text from Linda herself. It was a selfie. She hadn’t changed much, you noticed. Her hair was slightly shorter, and she wore glasses now, but she looked almost the same as she did five years ago. You were so focused at the relief you felt at not feeling anything but fondness that it took you a minute to recognize where she was. A second text popped up :

Was hoping to catch you !

She was at the bar. You thought for a second, there. It was your day off, and you were not in the mood to go back to your workplace for a drink. But Linda was there, hoping to catch you, so you got up anyway, turned off the TV, put your shoes on and walked through the door.

The thing was : everything with her had always been easy. So you didn’t feel nervous going there. You didn’t give a second thought to the way you were dressed, or what the two of you could talk about. You were slightly curious, though, as to why she was here.

The bar was slightly crowded, but nothing big for a Thursday. You spotted her immediately and navigated your way through the tables to get to her when you spotted a sign that made you stop in your tracks and snort.

Santiago was flirting with her.

You watched for a few seconds, and closed the distance with the table, eager to put Linda out of her misery.

« You know, Santiago, one of these days, you’ll get an harassment suit on your ass. » you joked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He playfully shrugged your hand off, and said :

« Nah, I understand it when I’m not wanted. No means no and shit, you know. But, one of these days, I’ll get you to call me Santi. Only my mother calls me Santiago. »

You snorted again. Clearly, if he was still hitting on the raging lesbian that was Linda, his radar was way off.

« Well, back off, Santiago. That’s my seat. »

« Oh. Girls’ night. I see. Well, I’ll leave you two ladies to it. »

He still extended his hand to Linda, who’d been watching with a small smile on her face.

« Lovely meeting you, Linda. If you ever wanna grab a drink. »

« You’re not my type, Santi. »

She shook his hand anyway. And then, it was just the two of you, together. There was a pause, there, as you smiled at each other before Linda got up and wrapped her arms around you. As you took a sit, you figured it was going to be a good night.

———

« And then, Starbuck tried to jump in the closet, missed and fell on my mom who screamed like she’d seen a ghost. »

Linda was laughing so hard you worried for a minute she would choke. You’d both moved to the counter. Once the the kitchen was closed, Phil had joined you. When she had recovered from the story, Linda quipped :

« I can’t believe you called your cat Starbuck. You’re such a nerd. »

Seeing Phil didn’t get it, she explained :

« It’s a callsign in Battlestar Galactica, the TV show. Starbuck is her favorite character. When I met her, she kept saying stuff like « what do you hear ? Nothing but the rain ». Sometimes she would listen to that bloody song for days, over and over, drove my crazy. »

« Hey, » you protested with mock indignation. « All along the watch tower is a classic. »

« Guess we found your callsign, then. »

You turned around to see Frankie smiling at you. He greeted Phil with a handshake as you, trying really hard not to get flustered, introduced him to Linda. The way she looked at you, you knew you hadn’t fooled her. There would be questions.

« Could I talk to you for a second ? I know you’re not working right now but it’s kinda important. »

He lifted his cap and ruffled his hair a bit.

« No, it’s fine. Guys, I’m going for a smoke », you told Linda and Phil.

Before leaving, you pointed a finger at Linda and threatened :

« Do not tell Phil any compromising stories. »

« No promises. »

Frankie kinda grabbed your elbow, then, to guide you outside. Nothing much, barely a touch but you felt like your skin was buzzing. You were tapping your fingers on the side of your thigh and your hands were a bit unsteady as you tried and lit your cigarette. You hoped he didn’t notice. The way he said here, let me and took the lighter from your hands showed you he did, but he didn’t say anything about it.

« Listen, » he started, a hand in his hair again, « the boys and me, we were wondering … I mean, tonight we’re kinda … we … »

He stopped and let the noise of the street wash over the two of you. You’d never seen him like that, and you didn’t know what to do about it. Hell, you’d never been alone with him. After a while, he took a deep breath and :

« A friend of us died last year, on this day. »

You probably stopped breathing. Whatever you had been expecting, that wasn’t it.

« And so, well, the thing is : he has a daughter. She’s gonna turn 17 in a month or so and well, let’s just say that for a number of reasons, we’re not gonna be invited to the birthday party. So we were wondering if, you know, since we like this place … »

« Frankie, » you stopped him, a hand shooting up on his arm to steady him as much as yourself because this was a lot of information. « Yes, you can celebrate her birthday here. Just make a reservation and if you want a special cake, ask Phil. »

He sighed, rubbed a hand on the back of his neck as his eyes fell on your hand. You removed it, and took a drag from your cigarette.

« Sorry, I probably didn’t need to tell you all of this but tonight, it’s … It’s a lot. »

You simply nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. What could you even say in that kind of moment ? You’d lost a grand-father, a few years back, and a great-grand mother sometime after but you never had to grieve a friend. And, a bit like that moment a few weeks ago when everybody grew awfully silent when you mentioned you were around for Jessie, you wondered what it meant that we’re not gonna be invited for the birthday party.

It was easy to forget they were ex-military, mostly because they never talked about it. You talked about Benny’s fights mostly, and, on that one occasion, about Frankie’s daughter, but you knew nothing about them, you realized. That’s what made that little fantasy thing you had going both with Anna and Jessie possible. But suddenly you had a sneak peek at something so very personal you didn’t quite know how to handle it. You didn’t quite know what it meant.

On a whim, desperate to lighten whatever that was, you asked :

« How’s Maria ? »

His head shot up at that. His smile was blinding.

« She’s perfect. »

You finished your cigarette, then, and allowed Frankie to take you by the elbow again. Before he let go, he squeezed and said, eyes heavy behind the hood of his cap :

« Thank you … Starbuck. »

This time, his smile was teasing and your own laughter couldn’t be contained.

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales #Triple Frontier #francisco 'catfish' morales #francisco 'catfish' Morales x reader

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swynlake-rp · 2 years

Photo

“Run like the wind, Bullseye!”

FULL NAME: William “Bullseye” Short BASED ON: Bullseye (Toy Story 2) FACE CLAIM: Adam Page PRONOUNS: He/Him BIRTHDAY: July 29, 1840 CURRENT STATUS: Taken

Character Information

Before William Stoddard was even born, his parents took Horace Greely's advice to heart and went west, gaining a plot of land, working a farm and settling down to raise a family. But times were tough, and in order to make ends meet, Mr. Stoddard turned to some less-than savory-connections and ended up committing hold-ups to make ends meet. His wife was not pleased, and their marriage grew strained--until their son came along. Knowing that he had to set a good example for his child, William's father swore off his criminal ways and threw himself into working the farm, putting enough blood and sweat into it that the family prospered.

Thus William grew up doted on by his parents, and his father taught him all about how to work the farm and to care for the animals. He was especially fond of horses, and would often say when he grew up, he wanted to have a large ranch with lots of horses. His father also taught him how to shoot, which William took to very well, so much so that his father gave him the nickname which he has kept for the rest of his long life--Bullseye.

This happy existence was not to last, however. Though Mr. Stoddard had moved beyond his life of crime, that life caught up with him when some of the outlaws he had worked with came looking for him, wanting him to come back and rejoin the fold. He refused, which prompted the outlaws to kill not only him but his wife as well, then to set fire to their house and barn. William only survived because his father had hidden him away in a secret trapdoor under the house when the outlaws arrived, and he managed to crawl out from under the house while the fire raged.

Having lost everything--his family, his home--William had no idea what to do or where to go. He managed to make it to the nearest town, but no one seemed interested in taking pity on him. Occasionally someone would give him some food, but even young as he was, he knew he could not survive like that. Then, in an cruelly ironic twist, a different band of outlaws eventually crossed his path. The leader, Pete, took a shine to the boy and allowed him to tag along, thinking an impressionable lad like him could be a useful part of the gang when he got a bit older.

So, having no idea that his father had done the same thing, William became an outlaw, though in his mind, he could only see it as having found a new family. As time went on and he got older, he became more and more attached to them, especially Jessie, and they in turn saw him as a vital part of the gang, and as he proved his skill with shooting, they too dubbed him the same nickname that his father had--Bullseye. While he might have wished to never have to leave the gang, Bullseye had not expected the offer Pete eventually made to them all. He did not like the idea of becoming a creature like a vampire, but he did like the idea of being able to stay with the gang forever. So he agreed, was turned, and things went on with the gang, albeit with a few different needs and abilities having been added into the mix.

But it was not to last. The other gang members began to grow disillusioned with being vampires, and while Bullseye was not really happy being one either, he still wanted them all to stay together. But the rest of the gang did not, and eventually, they all left Pete, Bullseye included. Once again he found himself not knowing what to do or where to go, especially now that he was a creature who was shunned by most of society. But even through his time with the gang, he had never forgotten his dream of owning a horse ranch, and so he found an uninhabited place near the Rocky Mountains and set himself up with a plot of land and several horses, and for a time, he was as content as it was possible for him to be in his current state.

This too was not to last. As the twentieth century wore on, more and more people began to encroach on his previously uninhabited area, and eventually Bullseye knew he would no longer be able to hide what he was and still be able to live there in peace. So he pulled up stakes and ended up crossing the ocean, finding a place in England called Swynlake, where he has attempted to settle once again, mostly keeping to himself and doing what he loves--caring for horses.

✓ Loyal, good-hearted, playful

✖ Shy, dim, easily led astray

Character Suggestions

None

Current Relationships

None

Possible Relationships

click here!

Magical Abilities

Vampire

#toy story #allch #malech #magicch #vampire #toystorych #takenmalech #takench

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sunbird-tells-stories · 4 years

Text

Some concepts I want to write about in the MW!-verse:

-Jack going over to Jermaine’s house to meet his family for the first time

-Jack and Jermaine going to prom together and it turning out to be an absolute disaster, so they bail and hang out in NYC together for the entire night, and they kiss as the sun rises.

-Jack helping Jermaine learn new martial arts moves by figuring out the physics of each move so Jermaine can improve his technique.

-Jermaine collecting random junk he finds at thrift stores and taking them back to Jack so his bf can strip them for parts.

-Timber finally getting the therapy she needs for her survivor’s guilt, untreated PTSD and BPD.

-Clay getting therapy for his PTSD

-And he and Timber bonding over it

-Clay and Timber bonding over their rough relationships with their siblings and the rocky home life they’ve had to grow up in.

-Clay and Timber bonding over being nerds, since Timber is into botany and Clay is into animal taxonomy.

-Clay and Timber bonding over the struggles of being unfairly stereotyped as bumpkins just because they grew up in small towns and have “funny accents”

-Clay being reminded of his sister through Timber and calling her Jessie at least once

-Clay and Timber being so supportive to each other that they’re siblings in everything but blood.

-Jack and Omi acting like brothers

-Jack and Rai being rivals/frienemies

-Jack being valued for his tech skills

-Jack and Kimiko bonding over their tech skills and building a genuine friendship based on mutual respect

-Jack finally earning Kimiko’s forgiveness for what he did to her dad and Jack taking it even further by helping Mr. Tohomiko our whenever possible.

- Timber getting a crush on Kimiko

-Timber getting a crush on Kimiko

-TIMBER GETTING A CRUSH ON KIMIKO

-And a mini arc where Rai and Timber become rivals because they’re both crushing on the same girl 👀

- Rai and Timber literally fighting over her at one point, wearing themselves out to the point they can’t even move, and then lying next to each other and looking up at the sky as they talk it out.

-Them making up and promising that no matter who wins her heart, they’ll always be teammates and they’ll always be friends

-Rai and Timber being close friends because Rai knows what it’s like to think you’re not good enough and betray your friends out of that fear.

-Timber looking up to Rai as a role model after she hears about his past.

-Rai and Timber pranking Jack at least once a day.

-Jermaine and Omi living together in the same temple and hanging out 24/7

-Omi helping Jermaine figure out his powers (won’t say what element yet tho)

-Jermaine and Omi growing up to be two of the best martial artists in the world together

-Omi and Timber geeking out over all the new places they see In the world, and Omi hanging onto every word as Timber spouts off facts about cultural sites and historic locations.

-Omi dragging Timber out of bed every morning for some early drills and helping her get to everyone else’s level when it comes to martial arts

-Timber and Kimiko being soft together late at night, with Kimiko braiding Timber’s hair as Timber listens to her talk about her life in Japan. Platonic or romantic, it doesn’t matter - these two girls are soft and sweet to each other no matter what. And I like that dynamic.

-Shadow crushing on Timber

- Shadow crushing on Timber HARD

-Shadow crushing on Timber HARD but she’s Shadow so she’ll never admit it to anyone

-Shadow seeing Timber and Kimiko getting closer and being MAJORLY jealous and doing whatever she can to sabotage dates and outings between the two.

-A big dumb arc where Shadow creates the ‘Willow’ persona just to catch Timber’s eye and it works and Timber starts to fall in love with the girl who has tried to kill her multiple times in the past without even realizing it.

-Shadow slowly dying on the inside because not only has she caught feelings but the girl she likes doesn’t even like HER, just an idealized version of her.

-Timber finding out in a situation where Shadow has no choice but to reveal herself and Shadow bailing in shame.

-Timber tracking her down so they can talk. And for once Shadow lets herself be vulnerable and tells Timber how she feels.

-The two actually managing to work something out and maybe even holding down a healthy relationship despite Timber being a Xiaolin Dragon and Shadow being an agent of chaos.

-Flash forward to the future and the two are married with a daughter named Venus, who looks just like Timber, but has Shadow’s reptilian eyes. And Timber and Shadow are genuinely good parents and are genuinely happy and good for each other, despite the fact they’re still on opposite sides of the Heylin and Xiaolin.

-Wuya hating the fact that her daughter married the Xiaolin Dragon she was supposed to take out years before, but being fond/tolerant of her granddaughter.

-Chase staying out of his daughter’s affairs but also being fond of his granddaughter.

-Jack and Jermaine becoming dads to twins named Jake and Jasmine.

-Clay being a single dad and having a son named Colton. I don’t know who he’d marry but I do know he has a kid and that kid’s name is Colt and they’re an adorable Father/Son duo.

-Omi becoming a dad to an orphaned kid he ran into during his travels. To multiple kids he’s run into during his travels. To all the kids his friends have. And loving and caring for each and every one of them.

-Omi meeting a young man named Boris and finding the only blood relative he has left and building a great relationship with him. And the two grow old together with a deep, unshakable bond.

-The Xiaolin Dragons growing up

-The Xiaolin Dragons finding happiness together

#jack spicer #xiaolin showdown #clay bailey #kimiko tohomiko #raimundo pedrosa #xiaolin showdown jermaine #jermaine xiaolin showdown #xiaolin showdown omi #Omi #timber wilde #xiaolin showdown oc #xiaolin showdown monkey wrench #xiaolin showdown monkey wrench!#monkey wrench!#xiaolin chronicles shadow #shadow young

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gh0stbra1nz · 4 years

Text

jiann x male reader

request: You're a K-Pop-centred Youtuber who occassionally does collaboration videos with idols. During the promotion period of Newkidd's latest release, Come, Jaewoo and you are set to do a video together during which you'll do one another's make-up.

note: hey bud. first of all, thanks for being my first request! i don't know newkidd super well and i don't know a thing about make-up but i did some research and tried my best lol. i hope it's alright!

word count: 2.6k

Room tidied, filming set-up prepared, lighting adjusted; [Y/N] had readied everything for the arrival of Newkidd's member Choi Jaewoo, also known as Jiann, and yet he was still fidgeting with the unbuttoned sleeve-edges of his baby blue shirt.

It was a typical video, that which he would be filming that day. He had done it a handful of times already, once his Youtube channel had really begun to grow in popularity and his offers to small entertainment companies for collaborations were accepted. [Y/N] had done this before, but nonetheless, the idea of meeting Jaewoo in person was something that brought upon him a strong sense of giddiness.

[Y/N] had been following Newkidd's activities as a rookie group for some months already and had quickly developed a low simmering crush on the very member he'd be filming with that day.

It was therefore on that high of utter excitement and nervousness that once Jaewoo himself had finally arrived, naturally glowing and somehow even more handsome than [Y/N] remembered, that the youtuber's behaviour morphed into one of a skittish hyper-activity, desperately trying to come off as calm whilst they introduced themselves.

Not much time was allowed to trickle by with their minimal conversation before [Y/N] had to get to work and the camera beeped to show it had begun filming.

Jaewoo gave his second small bow to [Y/N] prior to sitting, a broad yet somewhat awkward smile on his face. [Y/N] was determined, however, for this to not be a negative experience for the young idol.

Sloppily rolling up his sleeves, [Y/N] went to stand behind Jaewoo's chair, bare lips pulled into a happy smile and hands softly clapping down onto the other man's shoulders, mildly startling him.

"Hi!" [Y/N] cheerfully greeted his eventual audience, sight directed into the camera.

At his exclamation, Jaewoo curiously peered up at him, a baffled grin adorning his face.

"Oh, we're filming?"

His voice itself was melodic, [Y/N] came to realise, somehow a blend of soft and deep. That thought in itself though, also made him realise how much he was blindly infatuated by the man.

"Yeah," [Y/N] confirmed, cutting off his own wonderings, "We're going straight into it! Introduce yourself to the viewers."

Jaewoo nodded, quickly facing forward and flashing a winning smile.

"Hello, I'm Newkidd's Choi Jiann!"

"Mhm, and you guys know I'm [Y/N], your local mess of a fanboy!" He took the opportunity to lightly squeeze Jaewoo's shoulders, prior to letting his hands drag as he moved to instead stand abreast the idol, "You know what we'll be doing today, right Jiann?"

The black-head's lips momentarily pursed, his expression playfully twisting into one of pondering.

"Something related to make-up?"

[Y/N] chuckled, tilting his head in agreement.

"Well my desk is, in fact, currently covered by palettes and brushes, so that was a calculated guess," He allowed himself a quick glance down at the man, finding him to be already gazing up with a keen smile. [Y/N]'s heart skipped a beat.

"Today will be really fun, and quite possibly a disaster, because after I do your make-up you'll be doing mine!" He paused, squatting slightly so that he and Jaewoo were at the same height, eyes locking at what [Y/N] decided to call a safe-risky distance. "Have you ever done make-up before?"

Jaewoo belatedly shook his head, a light laugh bubbling past his lips.

"Never, I'm afraid."

[Y/N] offered an almost timid smirk.

"Honoured to be your first," He cheekily replied, tossing in a wink for good measure, prior to straightening himself and already reaching for some wipes.

The idol seemingly had no qualms about the joke, merely chuckling as the tips of his ears very faintly dusted pink.

"Alright, so, let's get started and in the meantime you can tell us about yourself or whatever else you like."

[Y/N] got to work with wiping the other's minimal make-up off, being careful to be gentle but to also let his touch linger across the expanse of his cheeks and wide chin. Jaewoo spoke rather stiffly at first, giving a status-quo introduction of himself as a member of Newkidd whilst continuously peeking at the youtuber, wanting to take a glance at the look of concentration that had settled upon the younger's face.

"Your skin is gorgeous," [Y/N] stated once Jaewoo had briefly paused, and the compliment brought on a stronger blush than the previous one, now possibly a shade of pink on his ears that could be evidently seen on video.

"Thank you," He gingerly murmured, and [Y/N] couldn't help but admire the way Jaewoo looked up at him with a bashful smile.

"I'm thinking － since you have black hair － we should go for a sultry type of look," [Y/N] eventually states, pulling away and setting down his wipes, "Smokey eyes, red-tinted lips, that kind of stuff. What do you think?"

Jaewoo simply nodded, more than willing to go along with [Y/N]'s plan as the other must have certainly known what he was doing, considering the following he'd been informed the youtuber had. Then again, perhaps it was also due to the fact that [Y/N] looked really cute with his blue shirt and ruffled [h/c] hair and Jaewoo would most likely agree to anything should it leave the younger's mouth.

"Perfect. So I'll apply some toner, which helps with any dry patches you might have," [Y/N] squeezed some into his palm, "This is more out of habit though, seeing as how your skin is literally as beautiful as the rest of you."

Jaewoo didn't get the chance to reply before delicate hands were patting and rubbing along the curves of his face, making his breath catch in his throat and his dark eyes lock with those already staring back at him. [Y/N] offered a warm smile.

"Next, I'll put on just a bit of lotion and we can get to work on your look."

Jaewoo thickly swallowed, head tilted up at a better angle for the artist to work. "Okay," He said, to show he was listening.

"Right, so you guys had a comeback a couple weeks ago, didn't you?" [Y/N] asked, instigating a conversation for while he did what he needed to. Jaewoo quickly caught on, humming.

"Yeah, on the 28th," He replied, then briefly looking to the camera, "It's called Come. Please support it a lot."

[Y/N] nodded, "You really should check it out, the song's a banger and they all looked super great in the video."

Jaewoo dipped his head that was liberated from [Y/N]'s hands as he wiped them clean. "Thank you," he spoke and proceeded to watch as said male fiddled around with his boxes, intrigued.

"Apart from your own," [Y/N] had turned to show he held a square box of sorts in one hand and a brush in the other, "have there been other comebacks you liked? Ah, and this is just some foundation I'll be applying now."

"Oh, there are lots of talented senior artists with really good music this month, like Got7's You Calling My Name and EXO's Obsession," Jaewoo answered, attempting to ease his pulse that repeatedly quickened whenever [Y/N] dipped in particularly close.

It was strange, because Jaewoo had had his make-up done countless of times and his body had never reacted such a way. Perhaps this was different because [Y/N] was a guy, who just so happened to be very attractive.

[Y/N] let out a sound of agreement, startling Jaewoo from his thoughts about him.

"Yeah, those were awesome," He brought the brush along Jaewoo's left cheek, gently dragging it straight down then to blend in the powder, "Even Jessi and Victon delivered this month." He lifted his gaze to that of the idol's that was intent on him, and he quirked a playful brow when he saw Jaewoo to be dazed enough to answer in delay.

"Definitely."

Giving the final strokes, [Y/N] leaned away again and changed the box with another, clicking it open and analysing the colour for an instant before swapping it for a different one.

"Now I'll be applying some light blush mixed with highlighter, just to give some colour to your face."

After having said so, [Y/N] proceeded to mix the two, tapping his brush to bring the excess to fall into the lid. Of the hand that held the box, he freed his index finger to gently nudge Jaewoo's head upwards by his chin, their faces once more closer than necessary and causing a spark to continuously flow in the air between them.

"We'll put some on your cheeks, nose and chin so as to better define your facial structure," [Y/N] murmured in explanation, pulling his eyes away to focus on the way the soft bristles of his brush swept over Jaewoo's smooth skin.

"So, Jiann, what do you like to do in your free time?"

The question seemingly caught the idol off-guard for he rapidly blinked himself awake from his unfocused state, sight momentarily dropping to [Y/N]'s hands that had since closed the box and begun grazing over his desk, clearly in search of a specific palette.

"I play the piano sometimes and listen to music, but other than that I spend a lot of time with my members."

[Y/N] hummed, eyes directed upon the box he'd picked up, studying the colours.

"I didn't know you played," He said, and Jaewoo was oddly happy to see that the youtuber had finally looked to him again, "I'd love to hear you one day."

Jaewoo instantly smiled, quickly nodding, "I'll make it that you do."

The eager response made [Y/N] chuckle, a fond upturn to his own lips as he adjusted his grip on the fine brush he held.

"You can't go back on your word now, it's on camera!"

"I promise, [Y/N], I'll play for you."

A pregnant pause ensued, Jaewoo's flush returning at full strength after he processed what he'd said, and [Y/N]'s heart beat wildly against his ribs.

"I'll look forward to it then," He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, briefly biting on it before smiling.

"Okay, now I'll begin doing your eyes. We're going for a dark look: black eyeshadow blended into deep purple at the end, with a fine liner along your top lids and at the edges of your bottom ones."

Jaewoo nodded, raising his head without needing to be told to, and [Y/N] mumbled a quick "Thanks," before leaning in and beginning his work.

They stayed silent for a while, but Jaewoo didn't mind. He took the chance to watch the male from up close when he could and obediently shut his eyes when he had to. There was something careful and precise about the way [Y/N] did his make-up that was different from how the staff his group had usually did.

"Alright, open," [Y/N] ordered, "I need to work on the bottom."

Doing as told, Jaewoo allowed his lids to part and flutter open, [Y/N]'s [e/c] eyes glimmering with focus as they bore into the idol's own. He sharply inhaled.

The remaining minute seemed to be a time of stand-still, both passing too quickly and too slowly, their close proximity bringing the two males to shyness.

"We're almost done," [Y/N] quietly stated, in a way akin to a warning, "I'll put some red balm on the inner parts of your lips and blend it out with gloss."

Jaewoo mutedly nodded, heart still thrumming in his ears even after [Y/N] had momentarily distanced himself.

He blinked and the warm hold of [Y/N]'s index and thumb was back on his chin, holding his head and forcing their gazes to meet.

"Part your lips a bit."

And Jaewoo did, watched as the other carefully applied the colour to his mouth and held his breath until it was over.

"All done!" [Y/N] eventually announced, beaming, "I didn't think you could look any hotter and yet, here you are."

Jaewoo dipped his head, attempting to ward off his flattered smile and flustered blush.

"Here's a mirror," [Y/N] said, handing him a circular one prior to stepping aside, allowing him to properly look at the artist's work, "Thoughts?"

The idol spent a few seconds taking in his new appearance, a look he hadn't really tried out yet, and found that the heavier make-up suited him more than he'd initially expected.

"It looks great, thank you," He told [Y/N], looking up at him with a fondness in his eyes that made the younger's chest warm.

"Well, I didn't have to do much, you're naturally good-looking," [Y/N] set a hand upon the man's shoulder, a gleeful smile stretching across his face, "Now that you like your look though, you have to promise to make mine just as good!"

Jaewoo chuckled, playfully shrugging as his left hand went to rub at the nape of his neck.

"No promises, but I'll do my best."

With the timid affirmation, [Y/N] went ahead and fetched a wide headband to push back his [h/c] hair and make it easier for the idol － temporarily-turned-rookie-make-up-artist － to do his work.

Swapping seats, [Y/N] allowed himself to sink into the padded chair and peered up at Jaewoo, smiling. Jaewoo couldn't help but think that he looked adorable with his mussed up hair and supple cheeks.

"You don't have to do the skincare part," [Y/N] stated, vaguely gesticulating towards where he'd left the toner and lotion, on a corner of his desk, "Do you have an idea for a look in mind?"

Jaewoo paused, contemplated, because no, he hadn't thought of anything because he was too distracted by [Y/N]. He looked at the younger's pale shirt and grey jeans, and an idea came to mind.

"Maybe peach or pink colours?"

He was afraid the suggestion was a stupid one, he wasn't experienced after all, but [Y/N] bobbed his head in agreement, lips still smiling.

"Sounds good!" He leaned forward, found palettes of colours that fit the spectrum Jaewoo wanted, and set them in front of the idol, "Here's everything you'll need. Do your best, Jiann!"

The idol quickly got to work, spending more time than most simply to choose the shades he wanted and even more so being perplexed about which brushes were best to use.

At his confused pout accompanied by a frown, [Y/N] chuckled, finally lifting a hand to point at one of the finer brushes.

"This will be the easiest to use."

Jaewoo gave a grateful nod, too shy to speak as he came to realise that he must have appeared to be a fish out of water.

"You don't have too worry too much," [Y/N] said, attempting to put the man at ease, "I trust you'll do just fine."

With nervous hands and a speeding pulse, Jaewoo immersed himself into his work, making sure to do as well as he could and even mimic what he could recall [Y/N] having done on him. The youtuber found it endearing how seriously the idol was taking such a playful task and didn't want to disturb him in any way, only scarcely speaking up.

By the end of it, Jaewoo had given [Y/N]'s eyes a peach-coloured tone, his lips a light pink gloss, and his cheeks a dust of rose; he even went as far as carefully adding glitter along the high curves of [Y/N]'s cheekbones.

He took a step back and smiled, meeting the younger's eyes with somewhat pride and admiration.

"It's not as great as your work, but you still look really handsome, [Y/N]."

》》》

i had no fucking idea how to end it and i was afraid it would get too long so i trimmed the end down a bit. i'm sorry if it wasn't all that great, i'll do my best to improve.

#choi jiann #choi jaewoo #newkidd #kpop x male reader #newkidd x male reader #choi jiann x male reader #fluff #kpop #kaidenwritestuff #newkidd x reader

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galaxymermaid214 · 3 years

Note

unplanned variable asks #10, 14 & 18, please!

Thanks for the questions! (these answers may contain some spoilers for Sea of Stars)

#10: Aayla’s favorite place in Halcyon is Emerald Vale. She was awestruck by the alien beauty of the vale when she first arrived, and it’s where she met the two most important people in her life: Parvati & Max. Her least favorite place is Scylla. It’s cold and desolate and brings back bad memories of what she saw while under the influence of the hermit’s drugs.

#14: Max: The handsome yet grumpy, foul-mouthed preacher with violent tendencies was very different from the other "holy men" Aayla was used to, and she was immediately fascinated by him. They both realize the other is lying to them. (Max knows Aayla is not really "Alex Hawthorne," and Aayla suspects Max isn't really looking for a translator) and they are constantly trying to get the other to crack and fess up. Over time, their witty back and forths turn into genuine conversations, and when the truth finally comes out for them both, it only serves to strengthen their bond, not sever it. Aayla’s always had a bit of an attraction to Max, but after events on Monarch, her feelings blossom into a full-blown crush. Once they go to Scylla, Max begins to finally realize and acknowledge his own feelings for Aayla. It’s not long after that they get together.

Parvati: Aayla quickly took a liking to the shy mechanic and treats her as her own little sister. She is a bit overprotective of her new charge at times, but is always available to her for advice and encouragement. Parvati idolizes her Captain, and is impressed by her overwhelming kindest towards others, a rarity in the colony. Aayla is the biggest supporter of Parvati & Junlei's relationship and is more than eager to teach her young charge how to win the good chief's engineer's heart. But as the adventure progresses, it soon becomes Parvati offering Aayla counsel on how to deal with her growing feelings for Max.

Felix: Aayla is delighted by the young Back Bay worker who wanted to see the rest of the colony and wouldn't take no for an answer. Aayla rolled her eyes when Max referred to him as a "stray," but in many ways the vicar was right. Felix tended to follow Aayla everywhere and was more than eager to wallop any marauder or beast that came near "the Boss," like an overly-attached puppy. But Aayla didn't mind, she found his eagerness and energy to be endearing and adorable. Over time, he proved to be a capable and loyal member of the crew. Like Parvati, Felix greatly admires the Boss, and in his own words, he "would walk through fire for her."

Ellie: After helping her friend Jessie out of a bad spot, Ellie decided the only way to pay Aayla back was to come along with her on her mission. Truth be told, Ellie had heard of her exploits all over Groundbreaker, and wanted to see if this Captain was really as impressive as everyone made her out to be. Aayla reminds Ellie too much of the stuck-up Byzantines she left behind, so she often gives her a hard time. Aayla, meanwhile, sees Ellie for what she really is: a jaded trust fund kid playing at being a badass. But she doesn’t demean Ellie and has genuine respect for her skills in battle and as a doctor.

Nyoka: Aayla is continually impressed by Nyoka’s knowledge of the beasts of the colony, and she is just as ferocious as any of them in a fight. Nyoka in turn was impressed by the Captain's tenacity, as not many folks were willing to brave the wilds of Monarch, and her kindness when it came to putting her old team to rest. Nyoka is surprisingly observant and insightful and makes for good company, when she's not blackout drunk on the floor of her cabin. Again.

SAM: Aayla didn’t know what to expect from the janitorial automech, but what she got was a walking talking advertisement with no sense of decorum or privacy. Sometimes the only reason he’s still operational is because Parvati took a shine to him. Still, SAM has managed to prove his usefulness both as a janitor and as heavy firepower.

#18: It takes a lot more than pretty words to win Aayla over, as she can flatter and flirt with the best of them. She likes someone who can challenge her intellectually (Max), someone who can match her quip for quip and offer genuine conversation. Best her in a battle of wits, and you’ll have her undivided attention. She also very fond of people who can make her genuinely laugh (Felix) or smile (Parvati).

#captain aayla #the outer worlds #ocs #unplanned variable #sea of stars #asks

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greensaplinggrace · 4 years

Note

Hi, I just wanted to ask if you would be willing to dabble in a prompt about Cloud having a wing? Like maybe something where it first manifests in a really bad situation of some kind and he's just horrified and scared about it, and runs away from everyone because he's terrified of what they they think. They then him and end up reassuring and comforting him? Just- angst to family feels? There is a distinct lack of Cloud wingfics haha 😅 so I was just hoping you'd be interested.

I debated a long time about this being pre-Sephiroth reveal and post-Sephiroth reveal and finally decided to place it earlier in the game. I hope you don’t mind! This an AU where the Sector 7 plate never drops.

-UPDATE! This prompt has an alternate fill - VERSION 2 - HERE IT IS ON AO3

*TW for self esteem issues, self hatred, blood and injury, a brief contemplation of self harm/mutilation, hallucinations

- If you want to send in a prompt, the guidelines are HERE and HERE!

---

“I don’t believe it for a second!”

“It’s true! In front of dozens of people, too, including Madame M.”

A bellowing laugh fills the room, and Cloud stares furiously at his tumbler as the table nearly cracks beneath the force of Barret’s gun arm. “I knew he was full o’ shit! ‘I don’t dance’, my ass.”

“He was so good at it. By the end of the song, he wasn’t even following Andrea’s lead. It was like he just fell into the music.”

“Aw! I can’t believe I missed seeing Cloud finally let himself go.”

“Oh, it was wonderful, and he was blushing like mad the whole time. But you haven’t even heard the best part, yet!”

Cloud bites back a groan and hunches his shoulders, angling himself as far away from the rambunctious group gathered around the corner table. He catches sight of Tifa working her way down the bar with a rag, an apologetic smile on her lips, and sighs in defeat when she doesn’t even think to say a word in his defense.

“What, that it only took him glancin’ at the walls of Wall Market before he broke out dancin’? Cause we already knew he was repressed.”

“Barret!” It’s Tifa who finally protests, but it’s too little too late. Cloud sinks into his seat and wishes the entire world would disappear. His drink sure does, though not nearly fast enough. He grabs a nearby bottle and refills it himself.

“He’s got a point, though.”

Aerith giggles as if she knows a thing about him. “Cloud’s just shy.”

He is not shy.

“Shy or not, he was certainly willing to dance for Tifa.”

“And-” Cloud can fucking hear the wink in her voice. “-wear a dress for her.”

The room explodes into chaos. Cloud scowls against a blush as everybody bursts out laughing, voices overlapping in glee and disbelief. Even Tifa’s grinning, eyes sparkling with amusement when Jessie bounces over and slams stomach first into the table. She’s flushed on Gaia knows how much alcohol, eyes bright and cheeks rosy.

“I knneww he liked you!” she exclaims a bit too loudly, and Cloud winces. Half of him wants to speak up against the fact that they’re all gossiping about him when he’s right here. The other half of him just wants to remain quiet, refusing to give them the satisfaction of knowing he’s affected. “Did he really? It mm...must have been- so pretty! I bet it was the- the most amazing thing you’ve...ever seen.”

Cloud would say it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever seen, but Tifa actually blushes.

Huh.

Cloud tries not to blush as well with the realization, turning away from the two as Jessie resumes the conversation amidst Tifa’s embarrassed silence. The others are busy, all chattering and mellowed out, scattered around the bar in small groups and talking about whatever it is drunk environmental activists usually find interesting.

There’s a simple camaraderie in the people around him. More than friends or acquaintances could ever be. A family.

He almost feels like an intruder, sitting here silent and morose in the midst of their comfortable chatter. All easy touches and loving warmth. Even Aerith has settled into the group as if she’s always been a part of it. She’s moved on to her second bottle now, talking animatedly with Barret about flowers, and how Cloud hadn’t ever expected them to get along like moss on a boulder is a mystery to him.

They look...happy. All of them do.

Fondness prods at the boundaries of his chest as he watches them. A wholly unfamiliar feeling, and one Cloud isn’t keen on courting at the moment. He can’t allow himself to think like that, not when he knows he’s unwelcome here. Barret had been right about this being a team - a family - that Cloud isn’t a part of. He’d been right to kick Cloud out the first time around.

He empties the rest of his drink in one go and doesn't even pause to deliberate further. It tastes like ashes.

He shouldn't have even lingered this long. Sitting here brooding at the bar while everybody has fun, bringing down the mood like one giant dark intrusion in their bright little haven of safety and warmth and...

Had his presence annoyed them, and that’s why they’d ignored it? Or had they even noticed him to begin with? Tifa certainly had, otherwise she would have left to go join in the celebrations of her family- her new family. One that Cloud isn’t part of anymore.

He stands to leave. The world tilts for a second, and he has to catch himself on the bar as his feet trip up underneath him, breath hitching and vision blurring. Nobody comments or moves to help him, though. Nobody even looks his way. So he staggers until he’s walking and makes a beeline for the front doors, past every joyful conversation and a smattering of giggles, until he’s bursting outside in a rush.

At once, he’s hit by a blast of the cool night air and the dim glow of the porchlights. For a second, the two worlds meld together - the quiet peace of the night and the warm, brash camaraderie of Seventh Heaven. A soothing lull to the strain of reality. Then the sounds cut off abruptly as the doors click shut, and all he’s left with is silence.

Cloud stumbles over to lean on the nearest metal railing, avoiding the stairs like the plague. Leave. He inhales deeply, the air crisp and refreshing, and breathes out some of the fogginess in his mind. They don’t want you here. He opens his eyes again and stares blankly at the ground below him, uncertain and on edge. Green flickers in the corner of his eye, a breath like ice ghosting through his hair. He swallows thickly and tells himself it’s the breeze, but slitted, sickly eyes grace his vision, and he has to duck his head over the railing to calm the tremors that arise.

“You think these people will accept you, once they know what you are?”

He breathes in shakily and grits his teeth against a response.

“You’re lucky they don’t care for you.”

They do.

They don’t.

He clutches at his hair and tries to make the world stop spinning, panting so loudly he can hear it past the rush of water in his ears.

“Imagine how disappointed they’d be if they learned what goes on inside your head?”

Cloud shakes his head and takes in another breath. He refuses to answer. Refuses to give anybody the satisfaction of knowing he’s hurt - knowing he’s weak.

He doesn’t want them to accept him. He never did and he never will. He’s stronger than that.

“Cloud?”

He jumps at the voice - real and alive and right there - heart racing for a moment in pure, unbridled fear as he thinks that Sephiroth’s finally become real. That the man can finally hurt him. Then the rest of it catches up to him. It’s a girl’s voice, small and high and above him. Not next to him. Not Sephiroth.

“Marlene?” he asks in disbelief, half convinced he might still be hallucinating. Yet when he races down the stairs and turns to face the source of the noise, it’s a little girl’s head peeking out at him over the edge of the awning. “How the f- how did you get up there?”

“I- I didn’t do it on purpose. I promise!” Her voice warbles with tears, and Cloud shifts uncomfortably. This is decidedly not his problem.

“I’ll go get Barret.”

“No! You can’t!”

He glances through the windows of the bar, where Barret’s laughing uproariously at whatever Tifa’s said. The man would kill for his daughter, and he’d probably beat Cloud’s ass for even considering not telling him. Cloud doesn’t need that right now. Barret already hates him enough, but at least he’s still willing to foist off his money. “You won’t get in trouble.” Probably. “He should know you’re safe.”

“But I will!” Marlene wails, and Cloud winces. “Daddy will be mad. I’m not s’post... supposed to be out here.”

“You're not allowed, you mean.”

Marlene sniffs again, lower lip quivering as her eyes start to water, and Cloud’s heart drops when he realizes she’s about to cry. “Please don’t tell Daddy! I only left out the window to see the lights. I didn’t mean to get stuck.”

“Can you go back to your room?” Cloud asks, though he already knows the answer. If only things were that easy.

“N-no...It’s dark and- and I can’t see. Please help me down, Cloudy...I’m scared.”

“It’s not- don’t call me that.” Marlene sniffs again, and Cloud sighs, squeezing his eyes shut for a second to fight off the growing headache. “Fine. Just...don’t move. Stay right there.”

He steps further from the building and examines the walls in the hopes of finding somewhere she could climb down, but she really has gotten herself trapped in the most unfortunate place possible. She’s on top of the awning, perched on the highest peak. Her knuckles are white from the death grip she has on the edge, knees occasionally sliding down the curve before she corrects them. Every time she so much as fidgets he feels his heart hit his throat, and by the time he’s finished examining every inch of the building, he feels more sober than he ever has in his life.

She’s much too high up, he concludes. This really is a job for Barret.

“You’d have to jump,” he finally says as he rounds the front of the stairs again, keeping his voice soft to avoid startling her, “we need to get Barret.”

“No! Don’t tell Daddy. He’ll be angry.”

Barret couldn't be angry with Marlene if his life depended on it. “I don’t think so. He just wants you safe.”

“You’re lying.” Marlene hiccoughs, voice cracking on the last word, and it takes an effort for him to remain still in the face of her distress. Something like guilt and understanding twists up inside him, but he can’t think too long about it.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, though every word feels like pulling teeth, “just don’t move and B...Dad will come save you.”

“But I want you to come save me! Please dont- please don’t leave!” She yells out in a panic, and then she’s moving, letting go of the roof and pushing to stand with too much force, feet sliding and eyes widening as Cloud’s stomach lurches in fear.

A dozen things happen at once, blurring and loud in the rush of panic. Marlene’s scream pierces the air, wood cracking and light flooding the area with a series of yells, and Marlene falls. Her scream cuts off as she hits empty space, and Cloud moves like he’s never moved before, feet skidding across the concrete and launching himself from the bottom step with a vicious gust of wind.

He doesn’t know how he reaches her in time. Doesn’t know anything except that he manages to snag hold of her before she even drops a foot, pulling her to his chest and curling around her with a snap. The harsh movement interrupts his flight, and in the next moment it’s Cloud that’s falling, wrapped tightly around his precious bundle as his back meets the top step. There’s a sickening crack, pain igniting across his back and forcing the breath from his lungs, but he doesn’t even think to let go. Not as every step afterward makes the pain spike and not as they finally hit the concrete, wrought metal a dark and twisting sky above them.

Marlene’s shaking on his chest, torn by hiccoughing cries and too afraid to let go, but at least she’s alive. Cloud almost wants to cry with her at the relief he feels seeing her there, safe and breathing in the cradle of his arms. Her small fingers are fisted in his shirt, head buried against his chest, and when she looks up at him her face is wet with tears.

“Is- is it over?”

His lungs feel too constricted to answer, chest tight, and before he can gather his thoughts or his breath there’s a thud of footsteps and a rise of voices. Other people, he realizes blankly for a second. Then, Barret - Avalanche, as awareness finally catches up to him.

“Marlene! Marlene!”

“What the hell happened?”

“Oh Gaia, is that-”

A shadow falls over them, and within seconds Marlene is pried from Cloud’s arms. Barret instantly sweeps her into a crushing hug, a spill of soft, comforting words pressed into his daughter’s hair. Cloud struggles to sit up when the other man turns away, hoping to capitalize on his distraction before anybody realizes a simple fall practically took him out. His face burns when he finally manages to push himself upright, but nothing could prepare him for the sight of everybody else standing there as well. Silent and frozen as they stare at him with wide, horrified eyes.

Cloud tenses and goes deathly still. His voice catches at the back of his throat, shame and pain and a dozen other things making his arms shake beneath his weight. He knows he should say something, but no words would be able to justify the fact that he’d almost let a child die. Now they know. Now they-

“What is that?” It’s Marlene who asks it, voice small in the heavy blanket of silence, and Cloud blinks in momentary confusion.

Then a feather falls into view, and Cloud nearly goes faint with shock. Before he can stop to think, he’s bringing his hand up, fingers splayed and stomach twisting as he reaches up to catch it. He expects dust and shadow - for the feather to disappear as every other has. Except that when his fingers wrap around it, all he feels are soft, delicates vanes and a thin shaft. Real.

No!

Cloud throws it as far away from him as he can, panic rising when all it does is catch on the air and keep drifting. Like a real feather should. Panting, he staggers to his feet, casting about desperately for Sephiroth as he grabs for his sword. Yet his hands hit nothing and all he sees is Barret and Tifa and Marlene, shocked and terrified and stunned. All looking at him and not anybody else . Or, more accurately, something behind him.

Cloud doesn’t need to see it to know, of course. The weight off balances him and has him trying to catch his footing, tripping backwards as they all just keep looking. Not saying anything. Not doing anything. Just-

“Are you a monster?”

And Cloud can’t bear to hear their answers. To look for one more second at their disgusted expressions and horrified eyes. The spell has been broken, Tifa opening her mouth to speak as Jessie gasps and moves forward, and Cloud trips backwards again, boots scraping loudly on the ground as he staggers around in a wide circle.

“Cloud!” It’s Tifa.

Tifa. She knows what Sephirtoth did. She knows he’s a monster-

And he can’t look back - can’t look into her eyes and know that she hates him.

So he runs.

He runs until his feet ache and nothing makes sense. Until the stares and gasps he draws from onlookers drive him deeper into the bowels of the scrapyards with the burn of shame and fear and hatred.

“I told you,” Sephiroth hisses, and Cloud spins in the center of a closed metal clearing to face the bastard, but all he’s met with is more walls.

“Shut up,” he snaps, “shut up!”

“They know you’re tainted, now”. Cloud doesn’t even need Sephiroth to tell him that. Doesn’t need Sephiroth to let him know that his mind is cracked and broken. That his body isn’t his own.

Cloud can’t even look at the metal for fear of seeing his reflection; gleaming snake eyes and a cruel smirk. He already has enough of Sephiroth. He already knows he’s a monster. He doesn’t need to see it. As if the voices in his head hadn’t proved it. As if the green flashes and painful hallucinations hadn’t already told him. Now his corruption isn’t only on the inside. Now it’s outside of him, too. A morbid display of his weakness and his failure. Proof that he can’t control what’s inside his head, let alone the appearance of his own body.

He holds back a sob, chest jumping and lips thinning. There’s a corner of the clearing that’s shadowed and dark, sheltered by a jagged metal overhang, and he forces one foot in front of the other. The sound of something dragging behind him makes him want to vomit. Pain sears through the appendage, pulling at his chest and back and making his shoulder ache. Snapped, he thinks, and has to push the thought to the back of his mind because he doesn’t care.

If he’s lucky, the thing is broken beyond repair.

He drops down and crawls beneath the overhang, pulling his knees to his chest and pressing against the cold metal. Stretched out in a gruesome, bloody display is the wing, nearly unnoticeable in the darkness of the night, and he presses his eyes to his knees so he doesn’t have to see it. The pain is a stark reminder, though.

He really is a monster.

They’d all been so scared of him. Tifa had been the worst, of course, but Marlene’s fear was palpable. Even thinking about it makes his eyes wet, and no amount of rubbing them on his pants can brush away the tears. Aerith had been wide eyed, fingers pressed to her mouth in shock, and Barret had looked thunderous. Probably from allowing Marlene anywhere within a foot of Cloud.

He curls into a tighter ball and tries to fight the heave of his shoulders, but it’s a fruitless endeavor. There’s a feeling of loss that burns, even as he reminds himself that he’d never been a part of their family in the first place. One that has him wishing he could cut the fucking wing away. That he could make everything better. Head back to Seventh Heaven and beg for their forgiveness.

If only he had his sword.

The mere thought has him shuddering in phantom pain, and he resists the urge to pull the wing closer for protection.

“Cloud?” A voice breaks the silence, and Cloud freezes at the sound. It’s Tifa’s voice, and she’s close enough to be right on top of him.

Then another voice speaks up, echoing down the walls of the alley he’s in, and Cloud ducks down to press even further into his hiding place at the sound of Barret’s approach. “Oi merc! Where the hell are you?”

“Barret, you’re going to scare him off.”

“Kid can take care of himself.”

“But did you see-”

A light swings into view, flickering along the battered edges of Cloud’s feathers, and both sets of footsteps immediately come to a stop. Cloud swallows and closes his eyes, trembling with fear or embarrassment, he doesn’t know.

Have they come to hunt him down? Or kick him out?

Tifa wouldn’t do that.

Cloud doesn’t say a word. Neither does Barret and Tifa. Their light lingers on his wing for a long time, and he wonders if they’ve finally noticed how ugly it is. The gruesome bend and twist of an unnatural limb.

“Oh Gaia. Cloud, are you hurt?”

It takes a greater effort this time around to resist pulling his wing closer, wrapping it around himself and shielding his body from prying eyes. The light hasn’t moved, but he knows their gazes have, and there’s not even a millimeter more space between himself and the walls that could help him shift away.

“That don’t look natural.” It’s not. “Shit, do you think it’s broken?”

The light moves, then, over bloody patches and the scattered feathers ringing his form. Cloud feels nauseous just looking at them, undeniably grateful that they haven’t turned to dust even as he wishes they would.

“That looks like a lot of blood…” Tifa worries, and Cloud flinches when she takes another step forward. “We need to get him back. Cloud, can you move?”

He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what they want from him. His mouth feels sealed shut with fear and loathing, and he can’t even swallow past the knot in his throat anymore. As if it isn’t shameful he’d been so weak as to get injured in the first place. Now he has a fucking wing sprouting from his back and all he wants to do is cry. Are they here to mock him? He just wishes they’d leave.

“We’re just here to help. Please, Cloud.”

It shouldn’t be Tifa begging. It shouldn’t be Barret approaching with light steps and a soft voice. Shouldn’t be either of them here to see him like this, offering help.

This is all so, so wrong. They should be afraid of him. They should hate him.

He knows he does.

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not.” He inhales like he’s drowning, throat tight and vision blurred. “I’m a- I’m like- Sephiroth.” The word is acid on his tongue and Tifa’s startled inhale only makes it worse. He’s a fool for reminding her, and now she’s going to abandon him. She’s going to realize this was a mistake and she’s going to leave.

“You’re nothing like him.”

Cloud almost chokes on his sob, tension cut away so abruptly his limbs go numb with the shock of it. He collapses in on himself, biting his lip to stifle the tremors, but the rest of his body shakes with each breath.

“I told you before that I was wrong about you, kid. That wasn’t a joke. You ain’t nothin’ like that sick fucking bastard.”

Cloud shakes his head. “You’re wrong. You’re wrong. I-I see him- I-”

“You see Sephiroth?” Tifa sounds faint, but Barret powers on as stubborn as ever.

“That doesn’t mean a thing, okay?” he says, and the conviction in his tone eases the band around Cloud’s chest. He takes in a shaky breath, latching desperately onto Barret’s next words. “What you see isn’t real, and having a wing don’t mean a thing except that you’ve got a wing.”

“Sephiroth has-”

“Sephiroth doesn’t have shit cause he’s a dead sonofabitch.”

That brings with it a whole host of worries Cloud hasn’t allowed himself to think about since he got here, and another silence descends between the three of them. The pain in his wing is a lot more noticeable now that he’s gathered enough wits to focus on it, and he can’t help the slightest hint of hope from forming - that they actually mean what they say. That they still care.

“You ain’t a monster, and Marlene shouldn’t have said that.” Barret lowers himself to a crouch, the hard edges of his expression melting into something soft as he continues. “You saved her. You saved my baby girl, and I will never forget that.”

Cloud had failed her. He’d almost let her fall. Yet he can’t bring himself to correct Barret, careful of the tentative trust.

“I ruined your gathering,” Cloud ends up saying instead, though he’s not entirely sure why.

Barret snorts. “Gathering was ruined as soon as you left.”

Should have snuck out. “Sorry.”

“That’s not what he meant,” Tifa says, sighing. She lowers herself to kneel beside Barret, and Cloud’s surprised to see nothing but kindness and concern in her eyes. That small bubble of hope grows when she smiles at him. A shy, reassuring twitch of the lips. “He meant that we missed you after you left. Aerith was worried she’d upset you.”

“But it was a…” Private affair.

Gaia, he’s such an idiot. It was stupid to worry about such a thing in the first place, and it only goes to show just how weak he is that he’d even been bothered at all. Cloud has never been shy about who he hangs out with before. He’s never cared before if people accept him. Yet the sting of Barret’s words had felt fresh, the mockery of a few days ago - of extra money and saying they wouldn’t need him - like a new cut across his skin. It hadn’t felt scarred over in the moment. Hadn’t felt anything but raw and exposed as they’d all laughed around him - at him.

“We wanted you there. Hell, it woud’a been nice to hear the story from you.”

“I’m sure you would have told it better. Though Aerith does have a...way with words.”

A hint of a smile finds its way to Cloud’s lips at that, but it rapidly gives up the ghost when his gaze lands on the wing again. He eyes it warily, swallowing down bile and blinking away the afterimages of blood and a sword and silver hair over monstrous eyes. He shudders at the memory, pulling his knees closer to his chest. There’s a limp, broken rasp of feathers over concrete as he moves, and he has to peel his gaze away before he does something he’ll regret.

“Cloud…” Tifa begins hesitantly, fingers outstretched toward his wing. They’re frozen, her voice hesitant as she speaks. “We never talked about what happened in Nibelheim. Sephiroth…”

“I know.”

She gives him a tiny nod and says nothing for a while, then: “you aren’t a monster. You’re not like him, and I could never hate you for this. You and Sephiroth...you aren’t the same. Even if-” She squeezes her eyes shut, lips pursing and shoulders hitching as she calms herself. Cloud and Barret both wait patiently. “Even if you see him...Sephiroth. You need help.”

“We can help you,” Barret pitches in, low and so unlike himself that Cloud thinks for a moment he might be fever dreaming or in an alcohol induced coma.

“The others are waiting at the bar for us, too.”

“Trust me when I say they’ll come out here themselves and scream your name for hours if we don’t return with ya. Your little flower girl threatened me. I ain’t never been threatened by someone so tiny in my life.”

“Everybody wants to help you,” Tifa says, “Please. I- we... love you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that-” Tifa’s hair practically cracks through the air as her head whips around, and the burn of her vivid red eyes has Barret cowed. Cloud can’t quite hide the smirk that appears this time around, and Tifa shares a smug smile with him when Barret scowls at the both of them. “Uh huh. I don’t know why the hell I thought our friendly neighborhood merc here was the only Nibelheim bastard. You’re both just feral pains in my ass.”

The word choice is uncomfortable, but for the first time that night, the pang of rejection doesn’t follow. Barret looks relaxed around his wing, now. As does Tifa. Neither of them appears horrified, anymore. They don’t look disgusted.

“I’m...I don’t know what to do.” He has to pry the first words from his mouth, but he isn’t even aware of the next words until they fall like fire from his lips. “It hurts.”

His face heats with shame, yet Tifa and Barret don't mock him. They don’t call him weak or useless or a sorry excuse for a SOLDIER. And he forces his muscles to unwind, inhaling deeply and exhaling at length. They wouldn’t hurt him, he reminds himself, these people are safe.

“It’s okay, Cloud,” Tifa soothes. She rises slowly, every movement of her approach projected, and Cloud would protest the treatment if he wasn’t so painfully grateful for it. When she falls to her knees outside his shelter, the careful compassion on her face hasn’t changed. “We can patch you up. Just like when we were kids.”

He hesitates. “Here?”

“Back at the bar,” Barret corrects, “ain't no way we’d be able to heal you up out here, otherwise. Even if it were daytime.

Cloud takes another fortifying breath, comforted by Tifa’s solid support. Yet voicing his concerns is still too much, and he subsides reluctantly into the shadow of his safe haven.

“We’ll take the back alleys,” Tifa says, and Cloud blinks at her in surprise. Her flicker of a knowing smile is like a benediction, a soothing run of words like water over his skin. “We aren’t that far from Seventh Heaven, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Okay?”

He nods, and Barret’s loud clap is almost enough to make him jump. “Aight! Let’s get movin’. You think you can stand, SOLDIER boy?”

“I’m not an invalid,” Cloud barks with a scowl, “I can move just fine.”

“We could carry the-”

“Don’t!” He regrets snapping immediately, wincing and looking away. “I can move it myself.”

“It’s got to be painful. Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Don’t...don’t touch it.” He pauses and flicks his eyes to her, then over to Barret as the other man shifts to stand. They both came for him. They want to help him.

They consider him family. He blinks the tears from his eyes and looks away, crawling slowly from his shelter. Tifa is warm at his side, Barret steady and unwavering before him. Neither of them leaves.

They came for him. “...thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Cloud might just believe them.

#cloud strife #whump #hurt comfort #wingfic #barret wallace #tifa lockhart #cloti #but its mild #ff7 #ffvii #remake #found family #cloud strife needs a hug #promptfills #thanks so much for the ask!#i hope you like it XD

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