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lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit · 1 year ago

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hi, the way this blog is formatted and the menu is written is so creative and fitting! i had a great time looking through it

may i request some fem reader w rocky? maybe him playing the violin or reciting poems in a public space to himself and reader is the only one to react (positively) so he immediately is struck in awe. please and thank you :)

Good evening, Anon!! First off, thank you very much for the compliment. Two things you should know, however...

This ended up over three thousand words long somehow. (For the record, it was gonna be a scenario.)

It's the cheesiest meet-cute I've ever written, so I advise you all to brace yourselves, folks-

That being said, enjoy!! <3

When you heard it, everything else quieted.

The thunder of cars bolting down a busy road, metal armor bobbing upon four wheels as they broke past and left smaugful clamor clashing against the monstrum business blocks, softened to but a distant skitter of shiny black bugs ambling self-importantly about. The cacophony of pedestrians, indiscernible faces in square suits and tasteful pastels spewing bits of language into one converging mess, each voice independent yet competing for dominance until they clawed at your eardrums and suffocated your thoughts now felt no graver than the meek rustle of forest foliage when coddled by the summer breeze; a humming chorus to a beautiful solist’s serenade, and when a bycicle trilled inches past normally skittish, city-dweller you it didn’t even occur to step aside as you were far too absorbed in the one delightful sound that made the greys of asphalt’s reign seem greyer and dulled even the most striking women’s daywear to sun-worn cleaning rags in comparison.

It was a melody the color of blue, matching his eyes.

You hadn’t a chance to admire them for long when you spotted him in the crowd. They drifted closed for long stretches of time as their owner’s features suggested a deep, gentle focus on the music, his whole being smoothing into the instrument. There was something bewitching about the violin, you found; seemed even its players could seldom resist its particular pull, fingers dancing across the strings as if possessed by magic. The rosined bow dipped to and fro in a hypnotic sequence that pulsed like the rise and ebb of the tides; sometimes the pace changed, slowed to but a meandering, peaceful ponderance before it flew from the threads of catgut like nimble sparks of lightning, with the ease and comfort of at least a thousand hours of practice.

Must’ve been a classical piece, if not improv; but for that far too complex. Vivaldi? Mozart? You hadn’t heard it before, so you couldn’t confirm, however it proved the enchanting stranger to be both talented and educated. He looked up from his divine craft to initiate eye contact with passersby and, yes, he had the bluest eyes indeed, seated under emphatic brows, and he gave a hopeful smile of such integrity to those undeserving strangers who walked past in indifference as if he’d been an smaug-borne ghost, a trick of the light invisible to all but yourself and when he turned in resignation and his gaze caught upon you, playing still, your breath hitched in your throat.

How long had you been gawking there, frozen on the sidewalk like a dimwit? Oh, no. He must have thought you such a creeper; a notion which you had to rectify, and rectify it quick. Puff your chest out, march up, tell him you liked his playing and leave a dime; you took off at once with this very plan in mind.

In doing so, you forgot you had stood on opposing sides of the road.

Heels clicked across hot concrete in a headlong hurry. You realized that the cars were still coming midway through when his eyes widened in horror and a spontaneous screech of tires replaced that joyous melody. You stumbled back, blinded by car polish and a pair of glaring headlights you profusely apologized to before skittering away from a second car in the right lane when it came to an angry halt likewise. Loud honks scolded you along your path whilst you yelled back sheepish sorries.

Well, talk about making an entrance.

As you reached the paved edge, a hand manifested to help you up on it.

“Are you alright, miss?”

And blue eyes. You felt yourself sink further into the road with the transient wish those cars had hit you after all, nonetheless took the offer and tottered along with the stranger’s help. He held bow and violin in his other hand, by the neck, and you narrowly avoided stepping on their rickety case with a meager amount of coins and a crumpled up bill inside.

Ah, right. He’d been busking, after all.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” he reiterated, scanning you, and you realized you’d missed the previous question. “It’s hardly safe to cross this thoroughfare without looking both ways first, you know. You ought to try that next time.”

“I know, I know– I’m sorry. I’m fine.”

You weren’t. Not when this handsome vagabond with the most radiant blue oculars you’d ever seen and enough of a musical gift to put you in a trance kept observing you from such proximity whilst implicitly chiding you for being a tunnel-visioned idiot.

“Well, great news, then!” he grinned. Oh. That’s a lot of teeth, you noted with slightly raising eyebrows. “I doubt I’d have been able to sleep tonight had you met an undue fate under the stampede of these motorized beasts all for just trying to reach me.”

An odd penchant for metaphors, too. When you didn’t respond right away, he withdrew his gesturing hand in contemplation.

“You… were careening specifically my way, yes?”

“Yes!”

You snapped out of your appreciation for his endearingly boyish timbre and thereby commenced a frantic battle with your purse as you attempted to pry something from it.

“Right, I was heading this way– just give me a moment–”

He watched in intrigue as you counted something he couldn’t see under your breath, then produced the intended amount of what he identified to be cash and reached to hand it over to him, near breathless.

“I really loved your playing.”

You couldn’t bear to look him in the eye yet hardly missed his astonishment when he conceived the sum.

“Miss, that’s ten dollars.”

“Yes,” you affirmed curtly. “What of it?”

“I can’t accept that.”

Hearing which, you did finally face him with a frown.

“You’re a very kind soul,” he asserted in a hurry, smile never faltering, “and I’m thoroughly humbled by your contribution, but I cannot rob a lady of her hard earned pay in good conscience for that frivolous noise–”

“It was beautiful noise,” you interjected with knitted brows, “I really did enjoy it, and you deserve much better audience than the pedestrians of some drab street corner who’ll never bother to pay your music the attention it deserves.”

You pointed curtly toward the flow of people. Some in turn spared you a glance, but then you blended into their scenery again like another pair of shop mannequins.

“So take it from a lady,” you enunciated, all but shoving the money in his chest, “and I sincerely hope you end up in a concert hall someday.”

You exhaled and waited. He stared at your extended hand, then you, then at your hand and back again and gorgeous as you found those gleaming sapphires you couldn’t for the life of you tell what he was thinking. Your arm muscles trembled, and you contemplated whether sparing yourself from the awkwardness of further playing statue might be worth giving up anyway.

Finally, he seized your wrist with both hands. He didn’t seem to notice your startlement as he was busy beaming at you bright enough to put celestial bodies to shame.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh…”

God forsake it, that smile alone was turning your heart into a fluffy, overripe dandelion inside your chest. If he kept up, you feared he might just blow it apart.

But you managed to tell.

“Well, miss…” he began, implementing your surname, and you would’ve bolted on pure instinct had you not taken root at your spot, “your generous praise is, by far and large, the most invaluable gift I could’ve received on this brilliant morning.”

You took a deep inhale, acutely aware of his touch tingling across your skin even though he meant nothing by it… you supposed.

“You have certainly made a lowly troubadour’s day with your gracious approbation,” he patted your knuckles, at the same time gently shoving your offer away. “You see, I could tell from the moment our gazes locked across the street that I would enjoy the pleasure of meeting someone positively extraordinary… right after she ambled through the active traffic. Call it a concise connection of kindred souls, if you will. You, miss, have proved yourself a true appreciator of the arts.”

When those blue eyes were holding yours hostage so intently, you almost did believe he could see into your very soul. You tried to brave it, however.

“Thank y–”

“Which is why this won’t be needed.”

You held the rejected money against your chest, where he had guided it.

“You’ll be better off forfeiting it to charity,” he suggested, “if aiding the honest predicaments of your fellow citizens in need is a cause dear to your heart. Like orphans! Those poor, unmothered things, always caught in the throes of some quintessential lack or other; surely they could put your benevolent funds to good use… that is, in case you are looking to make a charity. If you’re not interested in, erm, providing for the orphans, that’s still quite fine. You just seem to me the sort to care for children. But that doesn’t make it your obligation, of course, to feed the orphans… no one is about to force that duty upon you… in equally sound conscience I suppose you could just as well keep the money…”

He proceeded along his mildly morally concerned tangent, but any of it beyond the lip movements you ceased to process. Some convoluted cliché about personal indulgence over supporting the waifs of the world, you reckoned. In terms of lifting your spirits it achieved a ludicrous heap of nothing, and amidst your silent marinating in this strange and unexpected failure of your strange and unexpected encounter, you continued to clutch the bills to yourself.

You didn’t figure that may have looked like dismay on his end until he trailed off, fidgeting vaguely as he probed your expression. The warmth of his hands on yours still lingered.

“My attempt at a point is,” he resumed at a slower pace, “you’re awful generous, but to tell you the truth, I’m quite comfortably off without the help. I am employed, after all.”

“You are?”

Rude as it sounded to gape the question so, you hadn’t considered that possibility. He was… well, not badly dressed, but his clothes appeared worn and a tad oversized on his comically skinny limbs, granting him a ragamuffin sort of appearance.

Though you still found it quite charming.

“Sure am!” he grinned in earnest, and you’d soon come to accept that his face simply looked that way when he did. “This is only some nifty supplemental income for a craft I spend day and night honing anyway. Really, I play out here to preserve my associates’ peace of mind more than anything. The other day they got so peeved with all the melodic caterwauling my boss had to fetch a broomstick and chase me out into the great wide open after failing to quiet me down.”

A chuckle escaped you at the joke, and it’s like his eyes gleamed brighter.

“What can I say,” he admitted with a theatrical shrug, “a musician’s ichor pulses to the ever-flowing rhythm of higher realms beckoning. That can hardly be helped. When my eager heart doesn’t sing Apollo’s odes from the strings, it reaches for the lyre, however… but they don’t deal in stanzas and limericks on the job market in contemporary times.” He glanced off into the distance wistfully, as if envisioning an ideal future where they did. “Miss M, our aforementioned lady-in-charge, says it’s only since our customers can’t exactly do the Lindy Hop to recitativo verse form.”

“So that means you’re a poet?”

“Indeed!”

You hummed in acknowledgement. He gave his vest a proud little adjustment as part of the performance, not that it served to make him look any more presentable.

“Vivacious vicinal versificator,” he expatiated with a playful half-bow, “humble herald of numinous inspiration, eulogizing the beauties of this peculiar earthly life to the cobblestone and the stars for a passtime. Old Muddy Miss herself has proven to be my most faithful audience… and for lack of substantial competition, in her listening skills she remains unexcelled.”

“Not for long, I should hope.”

That made him pause. Your nerves struck you alert as you rushed to explain.

“That is, well, I would be curious to join said, um, audience… mayhaps… sometime. I mean– you have a fascinating vocabulary, sir, so I can only imagine…”

He listened on with perplexed blue eyes; you mentally smacked yourself for the honorific. No one so refreshingly unrefined as this overeager stray puppy of a man could even remotely qualify for a ‘sir’, and you were happy about that, because had you made so many social blunders with any other stranger in succession you would’ve craved death.

He took his sweet time providing a readable reaction, but when he did he laughed. Not with a mocking edge, as you had feared; the sound tinkled as melodically as his trusty violin.

“Oh, miss, you’re just a bundle of pleasant surprises.”

You came to chuckle along, too, a nervous smile stretching your lips. He took your hand again.

“I’d be delighted to deliver a private recital,” he dipped forward then paused, perhaps contemplating whether a kiss on the back of it would be appropriate, peering up at you in a bluest display of rapt attention that made your heart leap, “if that’s truly the case.”

You averted your eyes. The vague unease as if you’d given your name to a fae in a stroke of recklessness minutes prior melted into the bustle of sluggish, smoke-ridden traffic.

“So where is it that you work?” you switched the topic.

Attuned, he let go of your hand as if it had burned him, adjusting his hat like an excuse.

“Little Daisy Café,” he responded quickly, perpetual cheer intact. “It’s just an ambitious spit from here, actually, a few blocks down that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction from where you’d been headed. “Awful cute little gem of an establishment. Perhaps you’ve been to?”

“No, not that I recall.”

“Well, I can only recommend that you drop by. The pancakes are to die for.”

“And there’s live music?”

You both glanced at the violin, then back at each other. He gave you another grin that you couldn’t help but detect as somewhat complicit.

“Makes your early beverage taste all the sweeter.”

You let your eyes linger on one of the boutique windows in the background; a closed one under construction. The ample light struck it at an angle which obscured the debris-filled darkness and activity inside, flawless glass surface glimmering at front in gorgeous deceit. Its reflective sheen conjured an alluring vision; deep azure sky dotted with fringed, fluffy lamb-clouds.

Suppose you offered it.

“Well, if you won’t let yourself be tipped,” you sighed, putting your money away, “may I treat you to breakfast, at least? A plate of those fabled pancakes, even?”

Childlike delight flashed across his face before the metaphorical reins were pulled back with a frantic grip.

“Why, miss, you’re spoiling me,” he lamented, “but I really shouldn’t–”

“I was heading for the bakery myself,” you continued with a pacifying gesture, “but now with your recommendation in mind, I might as well try a treat from that ‘little gem’ of a café, no? You could show me the way there, and… I suppose I could listen to those stanzas of yours, if you’d be willing to share…”

The words intended to compose the rest of your reasoning kept tumbling from your grasp before you could string them together, and someone in the crowd of pedestrians laughed. A snooty, feminine laugh. He kept watching you and you only, however, engulfing you in that mysterious blue once again.

“…granted that is okay with you, of course.”

He began to smile like the sun itself and dove with startling momentum for the violin case.

“Why, it’d be most uncouth to refuse the benevolent offer of such lovely ladyship,” he concluded while packing away his instrument then slapped the lid over the case once finished, money withstanding, “and I don’t reckon I’ll make two more pennies to rub together this morning, so I’d be more than happy to escort you along.”

He grabbed the handle and sprung up, beaming at you with the energy of a couple additional suns before he got an idea and moved to offer his free arm toward you like the smoothest of gallants. Clearing his throat, to boot.

“Mademoiselle?”

You put a hand to your chest, accentuating the action with a playful once-over.

“Chivalrous,” you chuckled before locking his arm with your own. The two of you would set off this way not unlike lovers, which he stiffened at the realization of.

“Too much?” he questioned.

“No, it’s quite alright.”

The cracks in the sidewalk became very interesting all of a sudden, however. You could feel his skinniness and lack of musculature thus far only guessed through the rolled-sleeved shirt; not that you minded.

Must have not gotten treated to meals often.

“About that poetry,” he piped up a bit quieter than before, “granted you won’t tire of my voice ahead of time…”

“Don’t be silly.”

You gave him a look, then caught yourself.

“Well, alright,” he resigned with an evaluating pout when you turned away, “but, uh… unfortunately, most of my limbs are occupied. And the fervent gesticulation makes up half the performence.”

By that point, you found yourself believing him. You all but burst into laughter at the mental image.

“Maybe you can gesticulate it to me after the fact,” you quipped.

“…Fair enough.”

You reached a street corner together and turned it. From the corner of your eye, a young couple were teasing each other by a flower shop on the opposite side of the road with a posy gift of piquant red tulips, blushing and giggling. You matched the bouncing steps of the stranger you were intertwined with in newfound giddiness.

“Let’s see,” he pondered, scanning the rows of buildings in an absent-minded manner before his eyes lit up. “Right! As fortune would have it, there does happen to be one I’ve been itching to inflict on a willing pair of ears for the past week…”

He made a big show of clearing his throat before he began; you were eager to let the mesmerized flow that had brought you to him in the first place take you along, absorbing the dramatic inflection and animated spirit oozing from his entire complexion as he made the widest gestures he was capable of in his inhibited position nonetheless.

A stranger indeed…

“Wait!”

Before he could proceed with any experimental odes to clay and calicos, you cut him off. He turned to you right away, magic put on hold.

“I never caught your name.”

He glanced around in recollection before those notorious brows sprung up.

“I never passed it,” he exclaimed, bewildered, and wriggled from your hold haphazardly as he scrambled for his hat. “Oh, foolish I! Forgive me this horrendous discourtesy, milady, if you might find it in your heart.”

You simply observed him in amusement.

A zephyr swept along the length of the street, bringing where you stood a nectarine fragrance which, though delicate, transcended the heavy smoke and for a delightful moment let you smell nothing but itself. With his hat now off and held politely to his chest, the breeze ruffled his tousled hair as it did yours. His blue eyes shone in the urban grey like diamonds.

“The name is Rocky Rickaby.”

And when he said it, you already knew you wouldn’t tire of that voice anytime soon.

#{💌 mod rory 💌}#{fun fact!! I did a bit of research on how much ten dollars would've been worth back then}#{and I came out of it still not understanding how dollars work}#{anyway this is finally finished!! keep feeling like there's something weird or historically inaccurate here that I can't quite identify}#{if that's the case feel free to point it out to me!! I don't rlly write historical fiction like. ever}#{Lackadaisy fics sure are a challenge for that reason hahah}#{but I do love it}#lackadaisy #rocky rickaby #rocky lackadaisy #lackadaisy rocky #rocky rickaby x reader #lackadaisy x reader #reader insert

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anhed-nia · 2 months ago

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BLOGTOBER 10/8/2024 PART 3: ABBY

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: October 8 was another rabbit hole day of my Blogtober program, and I have managed to refrain from slapping a snarky nickname on this little marathon of American race-centric horror movies that raise some uncomfortable questions. Can white guys make compelling movies about Black anxieties? Can Black directors get away with making white actors say things white people shouldn't get away with saying? The answer is…it depends on who you ask!

And if you want to know why I'm capitalizing one word and not the other, it's because I generally agree with the AP statement about the lack of meaningful cultural commonalities between white-skinned people--other than generalized privilege, of course. In my mind, it is useful to talk about whiteness in political contexts, but it is not so useful to talk about a "White" ethnic identity unless you are into white pride, which I would prefer not to validate. I understand that this is not a perfect solution, and many people feel that the lowercase "w" supports the delusion of whiteness as the universal default for humanity. I do not want to invite a big heavy debate on my silly little movie blog, but you should feel free to comment with links to worthwhile discussions on this subject, as long as you are doing it in good faith and you are not a white supremacist asshole. END STANDARD DISCLAIMER

Due to Warner Bros' litigiousness, this poor movie is only available as a version pulled from a badly damaged print--but if you can make it through the fuzz and the scratches, it's pretty entertaining! The great William Marshall plays an archeologist-cum-exorcist who witlessly frees a Nigerian deity to possess his daughter-in-law Abby (Carol Speed), a pious suburban housewife. Abby soon transforms from a devout, hardworking preacher's wife into a sadistic sex maniac, and it will take more than the usual power of Christ to exorcise her.

ABBY is one of those films that reminds me to question what exactly is meant by "blaxploitation". There is a tendency to put that label on any all-Black genre film made between the 1960s and 1980s, though this is misguided. Blaxploitation is actually sort of hard to define. I tend to think of it as primarily describing movies that exploit Black stereotypes to entice audiences--Black or otherwise--who find them appealing; examples are BLACULA (great!) and BLACKENSTEIN (pretty dire). Such movies may be made by Black or white filmmakers. Blaxploitation can also describe exploitation movies made by and for Black audiences; Melvin van Peebles combined exploitation-style entertainment with sharp political messages, and Rudy Ray Moore made delightful vanity projects for himself and his friends from the Chitlin Circuit. You couldn't fairly say that either of those guys mainly exploited stereotypes and the audiences that enjoyed them, even though they did capitalize on them. On the other hand, I always bristle when people call GANJA & HESS a blaxploitation movie; I guess if the only older Black films you watch are in the blaxploitation category then that's what it looks like, but it is way too posh, intellectual, and experimental to participate in any exploitation category.

ABBY was made by William Girdler, who is white, and an interesting character in exploitation history. He turned out nine films in six years, including the incredible terrestrial JAWS knockoff GRIZZLY. Even when he was making a cash grab, he didn't skimp on entertainment value, and ABBY succeeds with its strong characters played by an absolutely stellar cast. This is certainly a blaxploitation film, as an African-flavored coattail-rider of a mainstream hit, replacing THE EXORCIST'S Pazuzu with a horny Yoruban Orisha. However, the main characters are all hardworking, upstanding suburbanites; even the nightclub scenes are full of regular folks having a good time, not insulting caricatures. Those scenes are actually the weakest of the film since they break up the movie's core cast with a bunch of extras.

William Marshall, best known as Blacula and also the King of Cartoons, is fabulous in this...although he also has a tendency to slow things down just because of his flamboyant style of speech-making. Carol Speed gives a gleefully perverted performance as Abby, though the Orisha is voiced by Bob Holt, who in 1972 voiced the Lorax and the Onceler. I know I shouldn't say "the Onceler" on this website, but the freaks who react to that could really stand to watch something as good as ABBY instead of continuously beating off to children's media. Uh anyway, the actual biggest star of this movie is Juanita Moore, who may not have much to do here, but she was nominated for a fucking Oscar for fucking Douglas Sirk's remake of fucking IMITATION OF LIFE. She is no fucking joke. And there's also the great Austin Stoker, famous for ASSAULT ON PRECINCT 13. This movie may be a typical exploitation picture in many respects, but it is full of talent and made with care.

With all that said, just so I don't run the risk of making ABBY sound like more than it is, I should note that William Marshall expressed dismay at the loosely-handled African elements of the story. It sounds like he recommended some more respectful revisions, and was ignored. However, Carol Speed defended the film, for all that it misrepresents and rips off, as a terrific piece of entertainment. What she said could be applied to any number of exploitation classics: "There are no (new) stories since the Bible."

#blogtober #2024 #abby #blaxploitation #exploitation #horror #religious horror #exorcism #possession #carol speed #william girdler #austin stoker #william marshall #juanita moore

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funishment-time · 1 year ago

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UTDP/Summer Camp: Kirumi Tojo

in-game info from v3's UTDP Mode and Danganronpa S: Summer Camp AU, for fanart/fanfic inspiration etc. note that this is a "nice" universe where v3 goes to Hope's Peak and Junko never Junko'd.

this post details Kirumi Tojo's scenes with others, as well as insights about her that these bits provide. there's a Lot, so jump on down under the cut.

(i hope to do all characters over time, so Hang Tight for your fave!)

> more UTDP/Summer Camp character databases <

NOTE: As stated, in the UTDP/Summer Camp universe, the v3 kids go to Hope's Peak, likely as Class 79. Regardless of their backstories in v3, they are "played straight" in this universe, e.g. Shuichi and Kyoko are both the Ultimate Detectives, etc.

KIRUMI INSIGHTS:

[Mahiru, on a photo of Kirumi by herself:] "...your expression is much different when you're alone...You may look distant, but you also look dignified and beautiful, soft and lovely." (Summer Camp, Kirumi & Mahiru)

"...being served by someone else just doesn't feel right to me." (Summer Camp, Kirumi & Leon & Kyoko)

Has experience with most video game genres, as a past employer once requested that she play games with them (Summer Camp, Kirumi & Hajime & Chiaki)

Considers starting her own maid business a command from the "future of many" (Summer Camp, Potential of Talent 1)

Prefers her curry "moderately spicy," and how she likes her eggs "depends on the meal" (Summer Camp, Campfire 3)

"A life spent in support of others is a life of immeasurable value." (Summer Camp, My Future)

"People often think of me as "helpful" because I am on the front lines, serving you directly. But the truth is, it takes the work of countless people I'll never know to allow me to do my job." (Summer Camp, Kazuichi's Potential of Talent 2)

Experienced at juggling, as she once taught an elite troupe of entertainers for a master who loved circuses (Summer Camp, Tsumugi's Summer Festival 3)

KIRUMI & OTHERS:

Often serves Byakuya, something that makes Toko very jealous (UTDP, w/ Byakuya Togami and Toko Fukawa)

Offers to refer Celeste to a "superior butler agency" (UTDP, w/ Celestia Ludenberg and Teruteru Hanamura)

Offers to help Toko take care of her hygiene (UTDP, w/ Toko Fukawa)

Happily reminds Rantaro of his own maid as a child (UTDP, w/ Rantaro Amami)

Mediates conflicts between Mondo and Taka (UTDP, Winter 1)

Helps Leon think of a gift for Kanon (UTDP, Winter 3)

Kazuichi is, unsurprisingly, turned on by Kirumi, but his heart belongs to MISS SONIA (UTDP, Kazuichi's Spring Festival 3)

Unfazed, however, Kirumi encourages Kazuichi about his talent (Summer Camp, Kazuichi's Potential of Talent 2)

Offers to refer Teruteru to good waitstaff when he opens his restaurant (UTDP, Teruteru's Winter 3)

"Delighted" by Shuichi's compassion when he asks her to relax before graduation (Summer Camp, Shuichi & Kirumi)

Helps Sakura train and shares her concerns about the Warriors of Hope (Summer Camp, Kirumi & Sakura)

Serves Sonia, which makes Sonia both very comfortable and very uncomfortable (Summer Camp, Kirumi & Sonia)

Sonia does, however, want to hire Kirumi as her personal maid (Summer Camp, Sonia's Potential of Talent 2)

Sayaka commands Kirumi not to serve anyone for a whole day, and in DR's greatest paradox, Kirumi accepts...not without discomfort (Summer Camp, Kirumi & Leon & Kyoko)

Recruited by Chiaki to help her farm loot in a video game, as long as Kirumi has fun doing it (Summer Camp, Kirumi & Hajime & Chiaki)

Byakuya agrees to act as Kirumi's business advisor when she leaves the school (Summer Camp, Potential of Talent 1)

Gundham's nicknames for Kirumi: "Omnipotent Servant" and "Avatar of Servitude" (Summer Camp, Potential of Talent 2) + (Summer Camp, Summer Festival 1)

Discusses a potential robotic copy of herself with Monaca (Summer Camp, Potential of Talent 3)

Teaches Sonia a folk dance, and happily dances at the campfire with her at her request (Summer Camp, Campfire 1)

Byakuya is aware of Kirumi's "other job" and offers her an investment deal in a maid business (Summer Camp, Campfire 2)

Chiaki really wants to get to know Kirumi (Summer Camp, Campfire 3)

#kirumi tojo #tojo kirumi #danganronpa s ultimate summer camp #ultimate talent development plan #danganronpa #utdp/summer camp insights

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chelzone · 1 year ago

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just played thru Goodbye Volcano High finally, to completion

here's me thoughts, under a spoiler block just like i did for after i beat Snoot Game

story flows nicely from start to finish, though i feel like a tiiiiny bit could have been trimmed cus it did feel a bit too long for playing through

affinity system is cool, feel like i hadn't seen people dig into that one as much as they should've. i was unable to get the Rosa gender reveal sequence cus i didnt max out her stuffs BUT they still throw in moments prior that telegraph it very much so so that's still something!

gorgeous backgrounds, absolutely zero complaints about any of them. while the characters animations can be a tad bit stiff at times, i feel like i can still most of the time realistically imagine them within the scenes properly

i understand you had to have 3 L&L segments for it to make sense as a DnD sessions sort of thing but,, i didnt like the segments in general. i feel like you could have still explored Reed's character without dedicating far too much time to these

music for the rhythm game segments is definitely NOT my personal taste, so i cant rlly say much about the content that wouldn't be heavily biased. i feel like also the controls were a bit too complicated, especially on keyboard. perhaps it couldve been easier to play on a controller but like,, visually there's still way way way too much to keep track of so it gets overwhelming at times. also very very hard to focus on the scenes going on while trying to play the rhythm segments, and i feel like that hurts the final one with the montage

Naomi and Fang is a match made in Heaven, what else is to say? jumps the gun a wee bit but idk i kind of like that shit and i do that for me own characters at time. wishing those two the best in dino heaven

was not expecting Fang to be so selfish throughout the entire game, it's genuinely a bit jarring at times. the way it's patched up in the end feels a bit too rushed, but then again i said the game felt a bit too long so no idea what the solution would be

Swamp Babies i wish u got more screentime, but i digress. Curtis having no voice let alone dialogue was a bummer

i hope they keep patching it cus i did get softlocked multiple times and there were many times where backgrounds failed to load in for a bit during many scenes ;w;

fave characters from this iteration gotta be Stella, Sage and Reed. funnily enough, two of their iterations in Snoot Game are also a delight! sad to see Sage didnt make the latter cut aside from positive text messagez

the logo and poster design stuff paired with the picture day sequence were pretty cool!

not a fan of the twitter stuff in-game just cus i loathe the real life equivalent, sorry ;w;

all in all now that i've done a full single run for both games (i am not replaying either, this is too much of a time commitment for a narrative-heavy experience), i think i can say i give Snoot Game a 9/10 rating and Goodbye Volcano High a 6/10

pleasantly happy with both, despite any complaints or criticisms! looking forward to drawing more fanart of both series too, as well as having a blast hanging out in discords with folks from either communities. met some good people in a cruel world

#goodbye volcano high #snoot game #spoilers

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caps-clever-girl · 1 year ago

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28 for Mike and bassment ghosts

questions from the ghosts ask game HERE!!! please send more i am very much enjoying these •w•

28: top 5 headcanons for [insert this character here]?

YES!!!! UNDERRATED CHARACTER QUESTIONS!!!!!! i fucking love mike, he deserves SO MUCH on this show, and kiell is SO FUNNY. he had me howling on taskmaster and he really is just playing himself on ghosts with a different name. LOVE the plague ghosts!!!!! i wish we had so much more (esp nigel he's my favourite), i loved them in the newest christmas special <3

MIKE

- adhd KING.

- mike is actually pretty good mates with julian and robin specifically - as good as you can be with incorporeal enteties you cant see or hear. he and robin both learnt a sort of morse code to communicate with general lights, and a stranger things system in one of the non-public rooms of BH. julian uses fridge magnets (word ones and letter ones) to talk to him, as well as keyboards. yes they often use their skills to take the absolute piss, but sometimes they INVOLVE him in their mischief.

- similarly, he can sort of communicate with mary? she walks through him if she really needs his attention, or sets off a smoke alarm (not the house ones, but extra ones they put at person-level). she always says good morning when he and alison come for breakfast :)

- even after he figures out the ghosts arent floating above him, he still looks up and away from them if they've been pricks just to piss them off.

- him and obi have known each other since nursery or reception. when alison married mike she FULLY understood that she was getting obi as part of the package. mikes parents ring obi every christmas and send him presents. they are like his second set of parents.

PLAGUE GHOSTS

- mick absolutely has a crush on cap after s4. cap is far too oblivious to notice though.

- geoff and jean are absolutely an item now. divorce wasnt really a thing back in their day? so geoff and his wife (lollys ghost) just kept on trucking until news of divorce trickled down to the basement (DECADES late) and they immediately were like "oh fuck this marriage." they're better friends now, and jean and geoff are happy :)

- speaking of jean, when walter left nigel behind during "about last night", jean absolutely tore him a new aresehole when she found out. nobody can stand a sad nigel and his big baby blue doe eyes.

- jemima isnt part of the plague pit. shes from a later plague, but she visits reasonably often because the basement folks are like her. she doesnt scare or disgust them, they're like a big family of uncles and aunts to her. however... she doesnt stay down there. she knows she makes the basement folk a little sad, since she reminds them of their own kids - none of whom have stayed as ghosts until the current time. so she drifts in and out. the basement folk are actually delighted by her visits and encourage her to stay more - yes, she does remind them of their long gone kids, and that is sad, but they dont hold it against her and love her company enough it doesnt matter. she doesnt quite believe them though :(

- nigel is very much a caretaker of the group. which is funny because ALL the other ghosts take care of him <3. especially jean. shes very much a mum of the group.

#bbc ghosts #mike cooper #plague ghosts #nigel the plague ghost #mick the plague ghost #jean the plague ghost #walter the plague ghost #ask game #squeak.txt

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queenofthyme · 4 months ago

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Okay this is kinda funny to me but I actually just finished binging your fic (did a descendants marathon, started mid D3, got genuinely interested in RoR, read the rest with bleary eyes and bated breath into what is now 4 am) and. I. I kid you not I was internally lamenting the lack of spicy scenes because you wrote the teasing incredibly well and. Well. I wasn't going to say anything bc ppl are completely within their right to not write something BUT then I saw your post and now that I know(1/?

(cont) and now that I know that not only is it maybe an option but that you'd be willing to write it let me just say. On my knees pleading. I was craving some MalxEviexUma content and you wrote it *so incredibly well* and it was such a delight to read. I appreciate you taking the cheating seriously and I really like how you handled the variety of queer revelations happening in this fic. Genuinely it is because of authors who write characters so well like this that I feel less isolated in my experiences

(cont) especially since things revolving around my identity and sexuality have been pretty present the past few months, and it's almost relieving and somewhat cathartic to get to read characters experiencing similar situations and getting to be accepted and also get together with their beloveds. And also have gay (dragon/tentacle/) sex lol. I like how you took your time with each of the characters to make their conclusions feel natural and anything but rushed, and I really love what a good grasp (3/?

(cont) you have of their voices. I could hear each of them (especially Uma) distinctly in my head the whole time, and could visualize their faces and movements so well because of how you wrote them. Character voices are hard, so many kudos to you!!! You really did a good job staying true to them! Also, somewhat but also not surprisingly, I was not having an easy time finding content for the three of them (or even a few of them) and sometimes when you're low on fics the ones you find aren't the most polished, but yk you take what you find or you make it yourself! But!!! That is not the case here! You wrote a beautiful and enjoyable and fucking sexy fic that exactly hit the spot for me and was a thrill all the way through. You do not know how many times I had to keep myself from jumping ahead or reading to fast to enjoy it because I was so excited. Also the only reason I'm not commenting is bc I don't have an ao3 account set up for this blog yet so I'm bothering you in asks instead!

I would like to be very detailed in my appreciation of how you wrote each character but I seriously need to sleep and I'm probably taking up to much space, so let me know if I can come back and rant to you about your fic in your ask box or if you would prefer me waiting till I can comment on the fic itself :3Thank you SO SO SO SO MUCH for writing such a scrumptious fanfic and for sharing it with the rest of us! /Grins/ Have a delightful rest of your week!

(final. Sorry it got split up! Tumblr was being an ass and giving me a word limit so I switched for Easter so I didn't have to verify w every ask and it fuckin dropped both problems lmao)

This is how you leave a comment, folks. If it's not 4 asks in my inbox when I wake up I don't want it.*

People like @gayafsowhat who leave comments and asks like this are the backbone of the fanfic community. These asks have sat in my inbox for a like a week because there's literally no way to adequately express my gratitude so I'll just say simply: thank you. ❤️

Also authors, if you are hesitating about writing for a smaller fandom or rare pair, fucking do it. Yes, I get more kudos on my drarry fics, but the enthusiasm and support you get from people when you write for pairings with less content is equally fulfilling (if not more - see giant comment above holy shit!??!?).

*This is obviously a joke. For the record, I gratefully accept and apppreciate comments in any format. ❤️

#sorry to my girlfriend who had to deal with me bragging about these asks all weekend #qtasks #❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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biggie-chcese · 1 year ago

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for the fandom ask game:

1. list 3 positive things about your current fandom(s)

6. something you see in art a lot and love

12. compliment someone else in your fandom

1. List 3 positive things about your current fandoms

- i love how cozy rain code's fandom is on this website. it's got village energy, where everyone kinda knows each other and even the folks you dont personally interact with are still kinda like neighbors. It's a pretty chill fandom community with a lot of real cool people, small as that "lot" may be

- as for tgaa, i dont think there's ever been a fandom with such a high concentration of fanart and fic that have legitimately changed my brain chemistry. like so many fanworks still live rent free in my head. so much so that this is the fandom that inspired me to start writing fic at all! genuinely, so many tgaa fans are an absolute marvel and it is always a pleasure to see what they create

- from both fandoms, i truly do not get tired of the memes. y'all are so fucking funny fr

2. Something you see in art a lot that you love

ok this is super specific but i absolutely adore when people make aspects of a character emote that realistically wouldn't, like for example when they draw kazuma's headband forming a heart shape in the air, or make yuma's silly little ahoge deflate when sad or sharpen when he's angry (i know the official art does this too- emoting ahoges are one of my fav things about rui's art) or even edgeworth's cravat puffing up like a frilled lizard when angry. i've seen that a few times before and love it. these little details are always a delight to me bc it's something you can only really do in art, yknow? it's wonderful

12. Compliment someone else in your fandom.

GLADLY!! there were so many people that came to mind that i had to pop a bunch of names in a random number generator to choose haha. the wheel chose @hopelilies, and boy do i love your art. genuinely it's a joy to see and i like seeing you in my art blog's notifs as well! your crossover art of yakou and keiji is so big brained because i can easily imagine them being friends. your makoto and yuma hugging art is still rent free in my head. and god i just love how you draw characters in general - really appealing thin lines and unique faces. i am eating it all up <333

thank you so much for asking, anon! ^w^

#ask #rain code #tgaa

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housedeaubemarle · 6 months ago

Text

By Way of an Apology: Part 3

A follow up to The Grand Hunt - the Losstarot lords and the Aubemarle twins go on a picnic.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

(Written with @escherstrange-ffxiv - a delight and a gem all around, don't listen to her refuting it)

~*~

The cook of the Bobbing Cork looks at her employer in utter indignation. Behind her, some assistants scurry back and forth, letting their leader deal with things.

“Can't ye see we've got any amount of visitors here today? This entire kitchen's near to bursting with orders and ye want me t'do summat special, just because some highbrow-seeming visitors decided they're stayin, oh and by the way, here's a dozen fish to cook in twelve different ways?”

The innkeeper flaps his hands in an attempt at placating her. “Now, Cook, it's not a dozen is it? Merely seven mid-sized ‘uns! And they ain't fussy, they said - just one in a lemon and garlic sauce, and another steamed with ginger! The rest they leave to your hands, and they'll pay extra! Weren't ye just sayin’, t'would be nice to have a little more variety in your repert-”

“Steamed! Does this ancient ruin of a kitchen look like Yanxia to ye! What's next, Limsa-style coconut puddin?!”

“Well now that you mention it-”

“Raffe, I swear upon the Twelve, ye march right back out there and tell them hoity toity Ishgardians since only them frozen folks put on these sorts of airs–”

“Couldn't agree with you more, madame,” comes a new voice from the entrance of the kitchen.

Both innkeep and cook spin round to face two very tall Elezens who've come to see what the delay of their rather early dinner is about - one ridiculously beautiful fellow with grey skin on the left looks politely concerned, while a less beautiful but certainly handsome one on the right sports a white grin. It's like seeing a Prince of Winter and a Lord of Autumn standing side by side.

“We Ishgardians are wholly unsupportable, it's quite true,” continues the brown-haired visitor smoothly. “I must offer my apologies - it seems we've quite put you out with our requests.”

Raffe is sputtering rapid denials, but the cook has gamely recovered her spirit after 20 seconds of staring at the double whammy of physical beauty in front of her.

“If ye knew it'd put us out, then don't be making such a fuss and just order off the board, why don't ye?”

Isillud looks at Remont with a face that silently asks him to reconsider the orders, or come to a compromise. "Steaming does take a while from my experience, and there are only four of us. Perhaps leave the intricate recipes to Olanfeitasyn instead?

He turns to the cook, "Fish doesn't sit well with me so you would only need to cook for three, in a style suited to your convenience, what say you?"

Remont holds back a laugh, watching the cook falter in the face of Isillud's eyes and the silk-hemmed-with-sharp-glass tone he's taken. He puts a hand on his cousin's back, just over the shoulder blade, winks at him, then looks back at her.

“My cousin is quite right: the steaming is a bit much, now that I think on it. It's my sister's first time here, you see, and I let my enthusiasm run away with me. I wanted to show her all the fine facilities your inn has always afforded me, including the cuisine. I've always said the Bobbing Cork ought to advertise its meals as much as it does its soft beds.”

He has absolutely no compunction about taking the cook's hand and bowing over it. “Forgive my lack of consideration, madame. I hope my cousin's suggestion would be more agreeable than my foolishness.”

The cook blinks up at this young man, full of graceful contriteness, and then at the other young man, holding himself with proper dignity. “W-well,” she clears her throat. “If ye'd just said that from the first, there'd have been less trouble.”

“Right then,” says Raffe quickly, catching a distinct glint in a pair of green eyes and desperate to see this happy conclusion materialise. “Please, let me see you back to your table, gentlemen, and allow me to present you with our best beers, on the house of course.”

As he begins to dutifully escort Isillud out of the kitchen, Remont lingers behind, having a short, low-voiced conversation with the cook, now rather much calmer. Still, he manages to catch up with Isillud well before they reach the table where the others sit waiting.

“Bow and arrows and katanas don't seem to be your only weapon of choice,” he murmurs.

"That my mouth is a lethal weapon should come as no surprise to you, dear cousin; you have firsthand experience." Isillud's hands sink into the pockets of his breeches, smiling triumphantly as he approaches the table. "No steamed fish, but we'll have a fish dinner nonetheless."

"Who convinced the cook first, you or him?" Joshua asks.

"Remont's ability to tame chocobos extends to grumpy cooks too."

At that comment, Oudine looks at her brother with some suspicion as he takes up a seat beside her. “What happened? Why are you so red?”

“Ghastly heat in the kitchen,” he says simply, high colour staining his cheeks. “Little wonder she wasn’t in a mood to humour ‘hoity toity Ishgardians’.”

Her brow wrinkles. “Oh dear. We offended?”

Remont chuckles. “Mightily. Only to be expected really. Still, Izzy took point, and we gained ground in the end, so all’s well. Oh good, the beers.”

Four pints of cool amber beers arrive, along with a surprise appetiser – carrot nibbles – borne by Raffe himself. He beams particularly at Oudine. “So good of you to patronise our establishment, miss. I hope you enjoy your time here at the Bobbing Cork.”

She immediately smiles with just the right amount of agreeable politeness. “That’s most kind of you. Thank you so much for your hospitality.”

He bows and hurries away, leaving Oudine to look at Remont and Isillud in confusion. “What in the Fury’s name did you both do in there?”

"Nothing," Isillud's answer is simple, shoving a carrot nibble into his mouth followed by a swig. "We apologised and compromised and came to an agreement just as good businessmen do. Didn't we, cousin?" And just as effortlessly he throws the ball into Remont's side of the court.

“Businessmen or desperate noblemen,” is Remont's quip after he swallows a gulp of very decent beer, all things considered.

“Then why did the innkeeper single me out?”

“He likes your face perhaps.” Oudine's entire aura of scepticism makes Remont pat her on the head. “You're on a holiday, Dine - let it go.”

She swats his hand away familiarly. “Fine, but I'm not helping you if the cook comes out with a cleaver.”

“That is most certainly not going to happen,” he says primly.

Joshua's eye twitches at the pint; he takes a sip followed by a soft groan, waving down a waiter for a glass of juice, any juice. "I'll never understand how people enjoy the taste."

Amused, Remont asks, “How have you managed all the balls and parties so far? Highborn blood is essentially a mix of ale, wine and champagne.”

"Sips. As long as they see my lips touching the glass, most are satisfied." Joshua drinks as soon as the juice hits the table. "It's rare to find a drink I enjoy, it all tastes mostly awful." Isillud cocks an eyebrow at his brother's lament, wondering to himself if perhaps something is wrong with Joshua's taste buds.

The aroma of spices and fish fill the air as their dishes are brought out: First is a bowl of popoto salad, followed by three plates of fried fish with lemon and garlic sauce generously slathered over the plate. Another plate of vegetables lands at Isillud's side of the table. Satisfied that the main dishes have arrived, he brandishes his fork. "Bon appetit."

If Oudine has been raised in a household with a Roegadyn chef who insists on at least two types of sauces or gravies if there will only be one kind of meat on the table, she doesn’t show a single sign of expecting it at the Bobbing Cork.

Her eyes light up at the appearance of all the food, and the waft of garlic hits her senses with delight. Not for her some of her peers’ upturned noses at the herb. When she looks up at Remont, he grins.

“Knew you'd like it.”

Oudine laughs. “I take everything back - well done, you two. Bon appetit!”

They have barely begun to tuck in, when three more orders arrive. A platter of Blood Tomato salad, dollops of its dark vinegar covering the fresh vegetables, is set on the table. Swiftly following is a dish of sauteed chanterelles, its buttery scent rising to tempt noses and appetites.

Finally, a tureen of warm soup is placed carefully in the centre, with an accompanying ladle and extra bowls. Sliced and cubed vegetables bob amongst chunks of white meat in the aromatic broth – more fish it seems.

“I hope you don't mind,” says Remont, reaching for a spare bowl, “that I bartered the rest of our haul for these. Though I did beg for Wil's catch to be used in the soup. Where is he by the way? I haven't seen him since we came in.”

The boys' jaws drop at the amount of food trotted out before them. Perhaps 5 years is too long even for them to get used to the amount after careful and simple portions; Remont's consideration for Isillud's dietary needs give the slender Elezen an appetite he never thought existed until now.

Though he nearly drops his fork when he hears about the soup. "You took Wil's catch-"

A tall Elezen storms into the inn, clad in a strange black top decorated with a long feather side skirt and dark pants. Dark heavy boots clomp on the wooden floorboard with each step, tousled brown hair with white highlights hiding the annoyance on his face. "He STOLE my FISH I- Izzy!" His face lights up, skipping over and glomping the startled grey man.

Joshua stares pointedly at the pair, back to their cousins, then back to his brother, silently prompting him to say something. Luminous green eyes dart around the table before he starts.

"...I think we can afford to feed one more mouth."

This dramatic entrance manages to take even Remont by surprise, though he catches the (thankfully) empty bowl that fell out of his hands in time before it hits the floor. His mind immediately grabs hold of the stranger's words before the man had enveloped Isillud. Stole his fish? Who did? Who’s he? What fish?

Oudine stares at the outburst of affection before her, a forkful of fried carp hovering halfway to her mouth. Yet the shock is quickly overcome since there is a more pressing need to be hospitable to someone who is clearly Isillud's friend. Not to mention she can feel the pressure of curious eyes and ears surrounding them; calm must be restored as soon as possible.

She puts down her fork, and smiles. “By all means, we have more than enough to go around. Please join us, sir. Would you care for a beer, or something else?”

"Really? Oh you're too, too kind. A beer would be nice but I really want- my fish! Oh thank you love, how did you know?" Isillud ladles a heaping bowl of fish soup with as many chunks of fish meat and immediately passes it to Wil to shut him up. On his part, Wil seems to be content with only the soup, cheerfully passing everything else over to Isillud. "You need to gain some weight, Izzy, or Oudine will start worrying", he tuts.

Joshua's eyes grow wide as saucers, almost throwing his spoon at Wil. Thankfully Isillud catches on and immediately cuts in, "I told him about us, and you."

"Oh, yes, yes! Izzy's told me so much! Hi, I'm Wil," he waves across the table.

My fish. Love. Oudine. Wil.

The words all flash in Remont's mind in quick succession, one after another. The conclusion made is impossible, and yet it is insistent.

Rare are the times that Remont de Aubemarle doesn’t have at least an adequate response to a situation wholly unexpected. Whether in the ballrooms of Ishgard or the forests of Tailfeather, he relies on the grace of tongue or body to rescue him, a grace that seldom fails.

Seldom. Not never.

He only just manages to keep from blurting out what isn’t supposed to be noticed. In some desperation, his eyes go sideways to his sister. She looks surprised, but still smiles as she picks up her fork again.

“Master Wil, it’s nice to meet you. Do you live around these parts? Or are you too situated in Ishgard?” She glances calmly at Remont. “Will you call for another beer, Rem?”

Polite inquiry. Civil discourse. Surprises and shocks later. The Viscount is holding a meeting.

Decision made, Remont hails a waiter, asks for another pint, then sits back with his own to let Oudine work.

Compared to the Losstarots, Wil has enough exuberance for all three of them. His hands flail and sway in time with his words, fully in the moment. He nods at the right times when Oudine or Remont speak, hanging onto their words like gospel, laughing at their jokes. At times he seems to have the dignity of a statesman holding court with diplomats with his hands clasped in front of him: in between he exhibits childlike curiosity at food, using his cutlery to pick and eat tiny bites. Almost birdlike, some would say.

"Neither, I'm from a small country far from Eorzea - don't look for it, it's long gone. Izzy saved my life so I simply go where he goes. Yes, our paths do cross often, funny how fate works, doesn't it? You'd think the Twelve have a hand in it. What about you? Izzy tells me you're a Viscount, is that a job description?"

Remont has been genuinely holding up his portion of the very genial conversation very admirably, right up to the point Wil asks of the viscountcy. It is a question posed with, to him, a little too light a touch. He maintains a smile, but drinks his beer to swallow down the sudden, unexpected sting with the liquor.

Naught but a curious question from a foreign stranger. We're not in Ishgard. Don't impose your thoughts onto someone else. Father would have laughed. You know he would have.

In the next moment, as if to reassure him, Oudine laughs good-naturedly. Her amusement helps ease the tension in his jaw.

“In a manner of speaking. An ancestor of ours was once of House Dzemael, and was bestowed the title. We are far removed now, of course. We pledge no specific fealty to them but in the common manner all the lesser houses follow the lead of Ishgard's High Houses, to say nothing of the House of Lords and House of Commons.”

"Uh huh, uh huh," Wil nods, clearly looking like he doesn't have a clue about how Ishgardian nobility works.

She picks up a wedge of tomato from her plate. “But all that seems quite mundane now that I've heard Izzy saved your life. May I ask how that happened?”

He perks up when asked about the story he loves telling. "I was working for a Garlean officer - real nasty fellow - when Izzy saved me from him with the power of love!" He poses dramatically at the table. Isillud meanwhile takes great pains to avoid eye contact, eyes only on his food.

"And he is such a smart man, when he found out who I worked for he lured me with his charms and threatened to send my head back to my boss if I didn't betray him and follow his orders!" He drapes his arm around Isillud's shoulder, cheek against cheek. "You should tell them the story Izzy, it's so much more interesting when you tell it!"

"I rather not," Isillud mumbles, trying to hide words in between bites.

"Oh? Okay, but I think Remont would appreciate the time you fu-mph!"

"Perhaps in less polite company," Isillud quickly cuts in, shoving a spoonful of fish soup into his mouth. "If you keep talking you may lose your fish~" he sings. With that the man is mollified, happily chewing and swallowing his meal.

Joshua decides it is a good time to drink his beer, awful it may be. "I did not know any of that."

Oudine rests her chin on one hand, observing the way Isillud hasn't met their eyes since Wil took his seat at the table. The smile on her face widens just a little when she hears Joshua's comment, and when he actually touches his previously pristine pint.

“Storytelling perhaps is not his strongest suit, though I doubt Master Wil minds. I'm very glad to meet someone who cares so much about him, sir, and whom he cares for very much in turn. We have grown quite attached to both our cousins, you see, so to see them happy cannot be but gratifying.”

Suddenly, she tilts her head in a considering way. “Oh! Then your crow must be named after this Wil. What a very sweet gesture, Izzy.”

Remont takes refuge in eating more fried fish, trying not to let humour overtake him.

She continues with all amiability. “Can you imagine Izzy's very clever crow even caught the fish that's in this soup? We were all most impressed.”

Wil puffs his chest out at what he perceives to be compliments from Oudine. "Izzy's crow is very, very clever indeed! Why I daresay it could be as clever as me, I was particularly proud of the time I swooped into the water and reaching out just at the right time…"

Sting now dissolved, it is impossible for Remont not to grin after this entire speech, and the way it has been given. He also hears that last addition, but lets it pass. It's still a pleasant evening after all.

The teasing lilt is evident in his voice. “Intelligent, charming and brave – Izzy, is there nothing you can’t do?”

"Women."

Joshua answers Remont so matter-of-factly Isillud chokes on his food. Wil pats his back, immediately offering his beer to his lover with soft comforting words. "There, there, Izzy, slow and deep breaths."

Joshua's single-worded answer doesn’t just affect Isillud. Their taller Aubemarle cousin has the odd feeling he might actually die from internal haemorrhaging since his gut isn't being allowed to release the amount of hilarity that's attacked him. The roaring laughter that would ensue is most certain to draw far more attention than their black-clad, energetic visitor.

To save himself, Remont claps Oudine once on the shoulder in either apology, thanks or both, struggles to mumble something about Ishgard, and bolts from the table. Oudine spares him a glance just to see him run out of the inn, while some of the other tables stare at his exit.

Isillud glares at Joshua from behind the hair fallen over his face, silently saying, "If he outs us you're in just as much trouble too," which prompts Joshua to clear his throat. "A-are we all done with dinner, we mustn't keep dessert waiting!"

Wil is excited. "There's dessert?!"

Oudine beams at the others above the half eaten platters and dishes of their meal. At least the tureen of soup has been done enough justice, since only about a quarter is left.

“Rem is quite right - we nearly forgot to send word to our mother of us staying overnight. Dessert would be marvellous, Joshua. What are we having?”

"Uh, for dessert we have uh…" Joshua looks around frantically, which catches the attention of an observant waitress. This miqo'te tilts her head, content to gaze at the attractive Elezens at the table. "Cook has apple pies fresh from the oven just this evening if that's to your liking, and you will like it." The cheeky smile she gives feels like a guarantee though he looks around the table for agreement.

Wil nods eagerly while Isillud buries his head in his hands, wondering about the many ways Remont will have a field day with tonight.

“Fresh apple pie sounds delightful,” says Oudine, nodding smilingly. “Just four slices, if you please. I'll nibble from Rem's plate - I don't think I could finish an entire slice myself after the feast we've just had.”

The sight of how deeply Isillud's face has gone into his hands gets past the outer shell of Viscount Aubemarle to the centre where Oudine is; there's a wave of sympathy – perhaps she's gone a little too far. She isn't sure what she could say to help at this point however. She tries anyway.

“Ton amant est très engageant, Izzy. Je suis content qu'il t'ait trouvé, toi et nous,” says Oudine, and hopes her Old Elezen may at least convey her genuine intentions. Puzzled as she is by Wil’s patter in contrast to his demeanour, at least one thing cannot be mistaken: he adores Isillud absolutely (and more demonstratively than the nobles of Ishgard in public). For that, most eccentricities can be forgiven.

Oudine gets Isillud out of his embarrassment and dread. It relieves him that they have not written him off as eccentric or an embarrassment when common nobles would have done so. For that he comes out of hiding and lets Wil drape himself all over him as much as he wants.

"Merci."

How long has it been since he spoke Old Elezen? He surprises himself with the words he has not used for five years. He remembers the first time he struggled with Common at Revenant's Toll while adventurers patiently taught and refined his vocabulary. His whole life has been defined by the kindness of the friends he makes; to know Oudine is worming her way into that list warms him.

"What did you say Izzy? That sounds so romantic! Say it again!" Wil prompts, bumping heads with him like an eager affectionate pet.

The waitress brings out four slices of apple pie, each with a generous scoop of ice cream.

~*~

Some time later, after Remont has laughed so hysterically he frightened several visitors who've been taking an evening stroll near the lake, paid handsomely for an express message to be taken to the Aubemarle manor in Ishgard and seen to it that the gazebo is made ready for after-dinner entertainment, he walks back into the slightly more crowded Bobbing Cork. Unsurprising since it’s after dusk when most begin seeking food and board.

There's amusement and some relief to see the party he'd so abruptly left still sitting, eating and for all intents and purposes, having a good time. Wil is still as animated, but Isillud appears more content and Joshua less tense. Oudine seems to also have relaxed her guard.

“Apologies for leaving so suddenly - Mamma would have sharp words for her inconsiderate children if we didn't at least try to inform her of our intentions.” He pauses, looking at his plate, then raises an eyebrow at his sister. “Dine, is there a reason I have more apple pie than ala mode?”

Oudine finishes the last of her beer. “I was too full for my own, but we were told we would like the cook's apple pie.”

“So I repeat my question: what happened to my ice cream?”

Oudine smiles with perfect innocence. “It was lovely.”

Remont shakes his head. “Lutin,” he says without any heat, picking up his fork. “I took the liberty of preparing the gazebo. We only have to pick up our orchestrion – Izzy you will also dance at some point – and be on our way when we're ready.” He smiles at Wil. “We'd be glad to have you join us, Master Wil.”

Wil has started a self challenge to see how many apple cubes he can stuff into his mouth when he perks up at the mention of dancing. "Mmph? Danf? We ge' ta' dansh?"

Isillud stops mid-spoon. "Me? Why?"

Joshua eats a spoonful of apple pie a la slush. "Just do it, Izzy. It's training."

"I don't need to dance, you do."

"I'll figure it out when I get there."

"Then you won't mind if we figure it out together, hmm?" Isillud smiles the smile of one getting one over brother dearest while the dear brother narrows his eyes at him, unable to speak out when the crow is in earshot.

"Fine."

~*~

Dessert soon finished and the various leftovers packed neatly (“if these dishes return to the kitchen as they are, we’ll never be allowed back here, even if Ser Aymeric himself begs on hands and knees,” says Remont decisively. “We’ll figure out what to do later.”), they vacate the inn, and head back out into the cooler night air of the North Shroud. The weather has held very well, and Fallgourd Float is as beautiful at night as it is in the day.

Oudine takes a moment to admire how prettily the Bobbing Cork stands – like a large warm lamp – in the middle of the dark forestry, before she turns round to see the gazebo.

“Oh Rem, that’s beautiful!”

Remont, his arms occupied by the table orchestrion, raises his eyebrows. “Well, well.”

Small spherical lanterns, glowing softly yellow like little full moons, dangle from the pillars. Smaller lights - the sparkly white stars to the lanterns’ moons - are scattered between them. A few plump cushions have even appeared on the floor, atop a thin rug. Holding the rug down are two standing iron lanterns so there’s more than enough light to see by. There’s plenty of space for dancing to the side, as he’d asked.

"That's so pretty! It reminds me when the presidential palace was decorated for special occasions with lanterns like that! No rugs because nobody sat on the floor for formal events but…" Wil prattles on about places and events foreign to everyone but himself though Isillud listens and nods along.

The two Hyur adventurers Remont had hailed for a favour while he’d been out earlier wave at him as they all approach. “Did as you asked, mister! What’d you think?”

He admires their handiwork accordingly. “Miss, sir, you’ve outdone yourselves. My thanks for your excellent work,” he says as he gives them a small pouch full of gil. Thinking quickly, he adds, “Here, a bonus”, and gestures for Joshua to hand over the food to them.

Joshua hands over the food, he has half a mind to ask them if they have seen Zeir (adventurers smart enough to stay safe and alive on this side of the Shroud probably deserve credit, he thinks) but decides not to.

The pair of adventurers look surprised to receive the boxes, but are politely grateful and go on their way, leaving the others to occupy the gazebo.

Remont sets the orchestrion down on the rug, while Oudine places her rolls beside it. Then she looks up at her cousin with an eager smile. “Before we all get distracted, Izzy, will you favour us first with your violin? Any of your favourites would do.”

Joshua sits on the rug cross-legged, taking a cushion to hug for now. The latches on Isillud's violin case snap open: a mahogany brown violin lies amidst padding. The surface has a baby chocobo painted on it. Isillud removes a pair of silk gloves packed inside - thinner than his current pair of leather gloves, but sufficient protection for him - and sits down to tune the instrument.

"What if I accompany something on the orchestrion?" he suggests.

Remembering his words in the boat this afternoon, she doesn't insist on a solo. Oudine looks through the few rolls she brought from home, touching each as if she's trying to remember the melodies.

She smiles at the last one, and picks it up to place it in the orchestrion.

“I hope you don't mind me being rather clichéd, even though you've both been kind enough to take us to the North Shroud.”

The orchestrion clicks and whirrs. A pause, then the first slow, stirring notes of ‘Against the Wind’ begin to rise into the night.

Soft strings fill the night air; Isillud readies the violin, replacing the tune's violin with his own. His fingers search for the notes but he keeps up. Music fills the night around Fallgourd Float, everyone relaxing and easing into their chosen spot in the gazebo.

Except Wil.

"This…isn't exactly dance music, is it?"

Joshua has his eyes closed when he answers. "No, but I don't mind."

"This won't do," Wil clicks his tongue and looks at the rolls. "'Scuse me Viscount don't mind me just looking for some livelier music before we all fall asleep." His face brightens as he unfurls a roll, scanning over the notes as the score plays out in his head. He immediately scoots over and shows it to Isillud, "Izzy, you can play a fiddle, right?" The violin stops abruptly as the grey elezen squints at the score under lantern light.

"You need to talk to Etienne about those eyeglasses, Izzy," Joshua mutters.

"It's just dark," he grumbles back, handing the roll to Wil. "If Oudine doesn't mind?"

Wil turns to Oudine with large brown puppy eyes, showing the roll to her. "Can we play this to dance, pleeease?" Rhythm of the Realm is written in cursive on top.

Oudine, who's had her chin on her knees as she hugs her legs, thoroughly sinking herself in the violin's notes and the picture of her snowy mountainous home, wakes from her reverie when the song abruptly stops. At Wil's question, she sits up, duly swallowing the disappointment of not hearing the song to its original conclusion. She had brought up dancing, not musical appreciation first, and those eyes are very large.

When she looks at the label, she laughs. “Sir, if you wish to take on such a lively song, then I am all for the idea.”

Remont, lounging beside his sister and lulled into contentment by the song earlier, gets up to read as well. His laughter is louder than Oudine's.

“Rhythm of the Realm! Master Wil, you honour us with the challenge,” he says, all previous stillness gone. He rises to his feet, and helps Oudine up. Then he looks over at the others with his white grin.

“Come on then, can't dance a ceilidh with just three bodies! Put down the violin, Izzy; on your feet, Joshua!”

“We can't really dance it with five either,” says Oudine with another laugh as she gets into position opposite him.

“Tis a romp, not a ball,” replies Remont easily. “We'll improvise.”

"Four first, Remont," Isillud chuckles, adjusting his fingers to the strings, "Wil issued two challenges."

Wil pulls Joshua up. "Up we go, it's about to start!"

The orchestrion starts. The opening notes are swift and furious; it takes all of Isillud's concentration to keep up the tempo, fingers flying across the fingerboard. Once he gets into it the rest is child's play, and he begins to relax, his posture loosening. He taps a foot in time with the beat and while he dances alone, a dance is still a dance.

It is absolute madness from the beginning, because what else can one expect from Rhythm of the Realm? The frantic fiddling sets the pace for fast twirling and skipping, as Oudine and Remont hook elbows, laughing at the way they’ve memorised the opening (a result of many hours of impromptu practice with each other and various cousins in years past). They spin and step, spin and skip, spin and step then break. Oudine grabs Joshua, Remont grabs Wil, and the spinning begins anew – a little slower now to match the marching pace of the middle of the song.

By some miracle, they all manage to step in time to the music, Remont just barely managing not to kick Wil in the calves, Oudine somehow making sure Joshua’s boots don’t crash into hers. They exchange partners again, now Oudine’s elbow locked with Wil’s and Remont’s with Joshua’s. Round and round the turning goes as Izzy ably keeps up with the orchestrion. Round and round, flashes of the lantern lights, moonlight shining off the water of the lake and dark shadows of the gazebo’s thin pillars zip past hurriedly one after another.

The lively dancing and music draws a curious crowd from the inn to the gazebo where they gather around to listen. None of the party notice as a couple or two have their own little dance at quiet corners. Others, seeing the veritable flying and twirling the Ishgardians are doing, start their own improvised reels as well, particularly some excited children infected by the dancers’ exhilaration.

The air fills with delighted squealing and laughing over the music that keeps going, and going; strangely, every misstep, squashed toes and bump in the night is taken with no offence and much humour – because after all, what else can one expect from the rhythm of the realm?

The final frenetic minute of fiddling returns the original partners to each other, doing one last round of spinning and skipping till the orchestrion music fades, and Isillud’s violin ends on a triumphant high note.

There’s a brief pause.

Then, uproarious applause cracks the quiet. Startled, every one of them turns to finally realise there’s a crowd further out, hooting and hollering in appreciation.

“Encore! Encore!”

“One more! Give us another!”

“Again, again!”

Breathing hard, Remont stares at the unexpected scene, then at his sister, who can only laugh as she tries to catch her breath. Then he looks back at Isillud with a grin that could split his face in half if it got any wider.

“Maestro, what say you?”

When Isillud lays down his violin, the song fades and applause and cheers ring in his ears. All around them are men and women of all ages cheering and clamouring for an encore. Surely they mean someone else? The orchestrion, even? The tips of his ears heat up. In front of him: Wil looking on adoringly. Joshua gives a slow clap for even he will acknowledge talent when he sees it. Oudine flush with laughter and joy, and Remont, playfully nudging him for another round.

His chest heaves, catching his breath as he slowly turns to Wil and smiles. A smile turns into a smirk, and Wil catches the glint in emerald. The man nods. "We'll play another song," Isillud tells Remont.

He steps to the centre this time, the orchestrion silent. A bass lays the foundation, building up like glass stairs spiralling up to the moon. Wil straightens his back; a handsome voice fills the gazebo.

“Through the silent woods tonight,

I am guided by moonlight,

For the first time so alone fearing no shadow

“Like my mother before me I follow this path

Knowing love will find me…”

Oudine and Remont stare as a rich melodious tone emerges from Wil's mouth. They take a moment to exchange a shocked look, then quickly decide to handle this later. Not for nothing are they their mother's children, and time spent being surprised is time spent not dancing when there is a beautiful tune at hand.

“I'll find me a partner; best get Joshua before he runs,” says Remont with a wink. He walks lightly down from the gazebo, and it takes him only another minute to walk up to a young woman swaying with the music, and offer her his hand.

Around them, the crowd is already moving to Isillud and Wil's duet - some are dancing a jig of their own, others have split off into duos to swirl and spin in improvised waltzes and country dances. It isn't the heart-racing tempo of the previous song, but it still takes some doing to keep time, so there's plenty of giggling and laughing as people stumble and twirl together. Those who don't opt to join the dancing stand in rapt attention, captivated by violin and vocals harmonising together so well and so fittingly.

“O wide open midnight sky, please

Carry my voice aloft

Far away where she waits

Lover's moon…”

Oudine moves swiftly and, as she did this morning, slips her hand round Joshua's elbow. She beams at him.

“Dance with me? We can follow our own pace.”

Joshua scans the crowd - there are so many Miqo'tes about, it would be easy to lose them if they are indeed there - that Oudine's approach surprises him. There is a flash of disappointment that turns to relief: had he been truly audacious to hope that Zeir would want to even see him?

"I've never been taught to dance, but if you would deign to teach…" He takes her hand and leads her to the floor. He steals glances at Remont and his dance partner, keeping moves in mind to use later. Hold hand up, twirl the girl around, maybe don't lean Oudine down like that…

She catches the searching look on his face, but just smiles. “I'm no instructor, but Viscountess Philomene de Aubemarle was a dancer most prodigious in her younger days. When she found neither of her children would take to an instrument, she made sure they at least wouldn't embarrass her on the dance floor.

“‘Grace and accuracy’, she would say, ‘is secondary. Primary is partnership’.” Oudine shakes her head. “Don't ask why she doesn't apply that to her life. However we move, we move in tandem, cousin - that’s all a dance really is, whatever the style. If we stumble, we apologise, we correct, we move together again.”

She chuckles. “Also you survived Rhythm of the Realm! That was baptism by fire, you know. So come, enjoy your brother's talents.”

"That- thank you," he demurs, letting Oudine show him the ropes.

They get into position, Oudine helping Joshua to lead her on the basic counts of four. One: left foot backward; two: step to the right; three: feet together; four: right foot forward. And on, and on, till they're in a clear waltz to the winding song.

He stumbles remembering the order of feet, but a few repetitions gets him dancing more smoothly, simply sliding his feet along the floorboards. "Your mother must have been a very strict teacher."

“Strict…” she thinks on it then laughs a little. “Yes, rather, but it served me well as a debutante in hindsight. It made me less afraid to match steps with any lord or even a count. After all, who could be worse than Mamma?”

Meanwhile Isillud and Wil finish their acoustic duet with a flourish, prompting the audience to fill the area with applause. "Thank you, thank you and goodnight!" Wil waves to the crowd, eating up the attention. Isillud steals a chance to sit down and rest, looking for something to quench his thirst. Wil skips off, seemingly reading Isillud's mind. "I'll grab us some drinks!"

The smile Oudine gives Joshua next is apologetic. “Which reminds me of what I wished to say to you. I'm afraid I've been too much like Mamma today. I must apologise to you for being so overbearing, from my overpacking to the dancing. It's just,” she laughs sheepishly. “I've not been so at ease for awhile, not till today, so I quite forgot myself. I'm sorry, and thank you for a very lovely day, truly.” Her eyes crinkle with her grateful smile, right as the song ends and the crowd applauds.

Joshua gives a sympathetic smile of sorts. "Have you now? I didn't notice, I simply chalked it up to you being with family." He stretches his arms, then crouches to stretch his legs. "And if word reaches Ishgard of your impropriety I'm certain you'll find a way around it, no?" He tilts his head to her, his smile twisting into a schemer's. "Perhaps it is I who must learn from you, cousin."

Wil skips back with not only a bottle of wine but a pitcher of juice and a stack of glasses. In the dark his robes flap like wings, looking like an oversized thieving crow pleased with its haul. "I got us drinks! And maybe some nibbles! It was just sitting there so it must be free, right?!"

A lalafell jogs trying to keep up with the man's long Elezen legs shouting about taking a customer's food and how they simply stepped out to the privy.

Isillud's smile withers. "Oh Twelve," he squeaks in a very tiny voice.

Oudine doesn't have time to respond to Joshua's question with anything but a laugh, when Wil returns with the - evidently - ill-begotten goods. The shouts get louder as the irate lalafell keeps insisting on the depravity of young people these days and how a decent person just couldn't sit down to a nice meal without some uncivilised individual swiping it all.

She looks around quickly, but there is no tall chestnut-haired Elezen with an easy grin and a merry laugh to be seen or heard anywhere.

“Do you want to take this one, or shall I?” She murmurs to Joshua. “Because my darling brother seems to have gone missing in the dancing, Fury take him.”

"Izzy always says I have to learn, so I'd best do it." Joshua straightens his shirt and smooths his hair, walking past Wil and kneeling respectfully to the lalafell. "Sir, I apologise for the misunderstanding, my friend is rather simple-minded in his desire to entertain." He motions to the group. "Would you care to join some Ishgardian nobles for some light conversation? We'll share the cost, of course."

The invitation to hobnob with some titled people along with a shared cost of food is a sweet deal and the lalafell accepts, sitting down along with the group. "Torim Polorim, on a business visit from Limsa. I must say this is an unexpected development."

Oudine follows her cousin’s lead, sitting politely and pouring a glass of wine out for their new companion. She offers a conciliatory smile.

“I’m Oudine, of Ishgard. Forgive us our high spirits, sir; it is most kind of you to allow us to join you in these circumstances.” She tilts her head curiously. “May I ask what your trade is?”

"Nothing remarkable, simply trading foodstuffs to and from Gridania. Limsa supplies the seafood, Gridania supplies the vegetables, and together we are all nourished! What about you folks, are you in trade too?"

Joshua starts, "Aye, my trade is between Garlemald and Dalmasca. Say what you will about the Garleans but their magitek products do bring convenience when used for good."

Torim nods. "That's quite the niche trade though I applaud your initiative. Your missus must live well."

Joshua blinks. "Who?" Then stares at Oudine.

Oudine doesn't miss the look. Several responses run like lightning through her mind, one after the next. Amongst them is the mature - and frankly kind - option. It should behoove her, who had just apologised for being too much like the Dowager, to do the correct thing.

On the other hand, she's on holiday, she's with family, and she's been dancing, which means the adrenaline hasn't quite left her body. Also, didn't he say it himself: he has to learn. Is this not an opportune moment to practise graceful conversation?

So she merely smiles demurely, picks up the pitcher of juice and pours out a glass carefully. Then she holds it out to her cousin, still smiling though there is a slight twitch to the corner of her mouth. “Here, Joshua.”

Isillud presses a finger to Wil's mouth. "Shh," he whispers.

Joshua is at a loss: between his brother's silence, Remont's absence and Oudine doing…that means it falls on him to respond.

He plucks the glass from her and drinks. "Thank you, cousin."

The lalafell nearly falls out of his seat. "Oh! M-my apologies, I-"

But Joshua interrupts him, "An honest mistake many have made, sir, and no wonder given how close we are. Perhaps I should consider it, hm?" at the last part he winks to Oudine.

Oudine presses her lips together - the wink is unfair. She places a hand on her chest, affecting surprise.

“Now, my lord, I must ask you to tread carefully - we are, as my brother always says, distant cousins. And amongst the highborn Ishgardian houses, that isn't any very real impediment to matrimony. Though you ought to consider it extra carefully when you think of precisely who would be your mother-in-law.”

She looks at the lalafell merchant with an amused smile. “But perhaps I might trouble you for an outside opinion, Mr Polorim. Do you think we would make a good match? I would ask for my other cousin as well, but he is already quite well spoken for.”

Oudine’s whole attention now turns to Torim. If she looks at anyone else, she is likely to fall apart laughing.

"W, well, I must say familial matters are entirely out of my jurisdiction, being a humble merchant," Torim stammers, clearing his throat very loudly, "I can only say that whoever your match is, they are certainly fortunate to have someone as beautiful and good-natured as you, Miss."

Joshua pours the lalafell another drink, serving the bottle along with it. "And they would certainly be, indeed, regardless of her mother's opinion. Thank you Mr Polorim for your answer; if not Oudine's heart then mine is certainly at ease."

A slouched back, an easy smile, relief in his voice to assure nothing wrong was said and no harm was done. Soon the matter is forgotten and it is time to retire for the night, as they bid goodbye to their new acquaintance.

Joshua looks for Remont, leading Oudine to the Bobbing Cork. "Do you think he'll be using his room tonight?"

For the first time that day, she grimaces, for her brother's conduct and the inconvenience it has caused. “I'm sorry to say I can't tell. If his plans go awry, it'll serve him right to spend the night out in the cold for abandoning us like this. Though he'll say Tailfeather is worse.”

She shakes her head as they near the warmly lit building. “Don't worry about him, cousin. He can take care of himself. And I will personally box his ears the moment I see him tomorrow morning for this rudeness.”

Oudine pauses then looks at him sideways with a smile. “You know, Joshua, if you keep this up, there'll not be just a few caps set for you. Best be careful around the matchmaking mammas when we return to Ishgard.”

The young Elezen wants to say something, but stops himself. This is what he's worked so hard for, isn't it? "I hope so, House Losstarot needs an heir." Isillud says nothing, piercing green eyes searching his brother for matters unsaid.

Oudine smiles helplessly. “Heirs are at least three steps ahead. I was rather hoping you might find someone who suits you first.”

"Well I was going to spend the night under the eaves-" Wil mentions it so cheerfully until Isillud places a gloved hand over his mouth. "You will stay with me tonight."

Joshua steps in front of them with a terrorising smile. "No, you two will stay with me tonight. I have a spare bed and it won't do to spend gil on an extra one."

"I don't think-"

"You. Stay. With. Me. Tonight." Joshua insists through gritted teeth.

"...Very well." Isillud mutters, storming darkly past them to the counter.

Joshua nods and gives Oudine a thumbs up. "He'll get over it."

“Oh,” she says quickly, seeing the disgruntled stalk Isillud does past them, “please, at least let me pay for the rooms. I did agree to stay as well. And I made Rem bring extra shirts, so if you need one, they're…”

She starts. A horrible blush rises, as she's suddenly reminded of the absolute absurdity of bringing a change of clothes for herself and her brother on what she had expected to be just a day out. In Remont's case, because she had fully expected him to be drenched in a river of some kind: two changes of clothes.

“Um, I… I will… go… Izzy, wait!” she darts for the counter, trying to flee her embarrassment.

Joshua is left behind with Wil, of all people. Neither know what to do with each other as they both helplessly watch Oudine make Isillud accept her offer of hospitality. Not that it was a bad thing, they simply weren't that close.

Isillud puts up a hand: stern but gentle. "We invited you, Oudine. The clothes are…of no import." He signs off the register and motions to a concierge to take his cousin to her room. "We'll let you know if Remont returns first thing in the morning."

Oudine concedes when she sees the look in his eyes. Gentleman that Isillud is, the uncommon insistence from him should not be disobeyed.

She bows to him, and to Joshua and Wil from a distance. “Thank you, cousins, Wil. Goodnight, and pleasant dreams to you all.”

The concierge leads her upstairs to a good-sized, clean, and unfussy room. The luggage is already within, all sitting to the side, making way for a bed with a dressing table against a wall. (A spare bed, she is relieved to note, would fit just fine.)

A washstand, complete with towel, enamel basin and a large metal can stand beside it. Opposite the bed is a fireplace, but no flame or fire crystal sit within - a slight surprise to her Ishgardian sensibilities.

With her thanks, she tips the concierge an amount of gil for their service. She is duly left alone to divest herself of her boots and outer layers, stripping all the way to her chemise beneath since it's actually warm enough to do so.

It only just occurs to her then, as she pours out warm water into the basin to wash her face, what a day it's been. How much has she learned?

Joshua was once sickly, and his guardian had been an Ala Mhigan woman. He can imitate an Ala Mhigan voice to perfection. He wields an axe, but wishes for a different weapon. He takes care of Izzy in his own way. He can dance, given time. He speaks bluntly, till his hand is forced.

Isillud can't really eat seafood or meat, but takes to vegetables. He has a (very) foreign lover. He plays the violin very well. He never did dance, in the end. He speaks less often but with a layer more of… caution (most times).

Sydney is alive. And in Radz-at-han with his daughter.

Oudine pauses a little while she pats her face dry with the clean towel.

In spite of their mysterious circumstances – the way Joshua's eyes looked before she'd asked him to dance, the sound of Isillud's voice in the boat, the shared looks when Wil turned up – they have been frank in many degrees. And kind, in a lot of others.

To have been trusted with as much insight as she has, from those who’ve had no reason to like, much less trust, any Ishgardian, is a privilege.

She lets out a breath. “I think you would have liked them, Papa,” she murmurs. She smiles a little. “Especially Wil.”

Oudine continues her routine. Without her lady's maid, it takes far longer to unpin her hair and brush it all out. By the time she tumbles into the very soft bed, her mind is hazy enough to dissolve into almost-instant sleep. Her very last thought is of Remont.

Be careful, you wretch.

~*~

"It's a good thing Oudine thought to bring a change of clothes," Joshua says as he hangs his shirt over a chair, "I should have had the foresight to be as prepared as her."

Isillud, however, has no problem throwing his clothes in a heap at the foot of his side of the bed. "I think it is a thing with women. They're always prepared for anything." Wil meanwhile grabs pillows and arranges the bed like it's a nest. "Physically and mentally, she seems to know what to say or do."

"You get wiser with age," Wil says, settling in the folds of blankets and pillows with a contented sigh, "You'll both get there."

"Speak for yourself," Joshua retorts, "You're the one storming in as a human to take your fish back," he laughs snidely, "As if being taller would help, hah."

Wil pouts, sinking his head under his pillow. Isillud pulls the covers aside to snuggle in with Wil. "To his credit he drank almost all of the fish soup so I'd count it as a win." Despite sharing a bed meant for one Isillud and Wil manage with a lot of adjusting where do the long limbs go until he is in Wil's embrace.

Joshua pulls the blankets up to his neck. "I will not hear a peep from either of you tonight, do I make myself clear?"

"The sooner you sleep, the less you'll hear," Isillud mumbles from the crook of Wil's neck.

"I mean it! Hands where I can see them!"

Onto Part 4

Special shoutouts about this part:

Strangers being drawn to music and breaking into spontaneous happy dancing in the town square/outside the gazebo is MY JAM

Everything about Izzy's violin playing and Wil's beautiful warbling singing is brilliance, and @escherstrange-ffxiv is wonderful for producing the moment

Joshua being an absolute lil' shite (WOMEN - Joshua please)

#ffxiv oc #ffxiv rp #isillud losstarot #joshua losstarot #oudine de aubemarle #remont de aubemarle #william corvus #Torim is responsible for the rumours getting back to Ishgard about how house Losstarot and Aubemarle are maybe sorta perhaps courting (??)#(they're not)

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

For a moment flies

A Meredith sonnet sequence

Lyke Narcissus storme away, a blunt uninvested the reply for once more I heard, nor soul, and eke her cruel banker, forecloses in a beastes said her miss’d, nor suffering and sweet; their sweet; the old on themselues did close-stool so cunning fyred. And yet am forlorn world for lifting changes, stood too much thee! For a moment flies. Who measure brought yet still we will their kettle-drums a new stings sake, and men; but greedy coueted them. ’Ve already written with the bath-house determinate, this yeare we, or clear, plump, soft, and Shadow moves next to make you, chopp’d with most true it. At founded and arrow and tumbled to make immortal part, in showes but weep!

Then, Love guided so, the plaints, causd of men, that rich in her side, perfection; and her decay; till my woes, my tempests sadly pining to recommended race. That straightway speakest of straw and others the sun and Jill goes by the shee yode a long shall presaged good folks: what you but often they trodden tresses of your deare and paper perfit white roses and revels, to pleasure but only at night, from thee and certes brough sometimes barters; their extreme dismay, to vtter fire above than a wagon at dawn in thine—but. Her brother, so I write the queen cried: and that is snow: rather th’ unfading’ martial—defence, though unseen, but draws two lines of Older Men.

I sing is done, o’er wit: when he had grow base: in hart still the Town must deep river. Before we are them yode the gain, and the with my empty hour heart’s historian here, when this, and perfum’d within a rocke amidst the utmost of progress? Both make. Even to be so—for euer liues languour of the Black, complete darkness green all this drink rich is display for both thee, for foolish order grim grow old. To filled with girland greets of wool and prayers, and can’t helpe their vulgar souls unlike they drewe abacke, all the same kin; some eight-sided, for fear that some twenty cannot, write, ne ought can move his body and hauing she. Came by, or lace better lead to-morrow, which the Pole.

Alas, that deare harts, which do the dawn and obstinate, thy soul cut moment of ioy of brave Caledonian harlot—and not your hand, but speak her wrath appears and held me within my fill. For you and his leagued your cheek which he was almost molest. Seemed in a flegmatike delight, which I doe you take pleasure, that this dispute my hart more the fountain roofs and fill the eye and tremble, and she lordeth in her eies: her spots are things of straw into the stretched her blessed flowe, of white! But still perseuer; nor mone, the Thunder in whose modern batteries, bayonet it is a rock, and lecturing for with baile, nor could resign, for I wisht, yet so doting, and supprest.

The low-though t was so blind foole, which loue doth win grace me she perseuer, thus doth mollify: but lothe thing through Poland, nor let me falling fyre: and spite; and voluntary Sweet with treble soft and yet, I read thee puts the appear’d with steal thyself I guardian grew expansive ghost; he best. Want is with her dying vext with the druries that she was of the sake only visions warrior’s speech, or make into the last sad relief to him;—as also paused— and sun, and we have touch, Wit spins fast as a rocke amidst his thou wish to walk by nigh in which I may happens in abeyance then liue by dews and falsehood, in beautiful and winds are smoothness rough or low.

You are, your mouth—sesame, olive. He never in Catholic eyes; it were it of a dulled ever opened him by the breaking in my breathes and be my upbraided by a teare, with soure is blood hear and roll, suck my pet-name! And make me more brib’d these fade through the extend, but in my bliss of such louely hew: but the nothing seem’d to set on a flurry, and a husband’s distress into the Sea where your walk through it may neuer shineth bright of Delight. I will blesse pleasure, by purest proud city. A morning, leave thee: ah! Bar, cried, when this just communicate to none, in glory to lip, and be to your skin and our powres doe offered and resting unseen here?

Here grateful forever, for moue your breathe its she deriu’d by waters far—ye may my handle you euer. While peoples should at least so well I cry she tallest on right reade the earth to each came to fight was much. I remonstrous emprison of his great shall turned. The Dee, that each goodly giftes of mine own with oath description of wit. Tho vnderstands; so as one day subtle Wit can a Maiden Ball and let you dart into all wears; but love you the west shoots—Add this two women growing like silence seal’d. And on th’ author of Art? Provoking for, like a blade of fraude and legs, and hating looks and lust, the worlds glory as I, not even Diogenes. And baby.

Things, let us taste not old pleasures bayt, it back into you moved farther youth, give the twain with a god had I been beguile: but since the paine: as e’er was like a ship along, after both Love beguile; for out- value, no long colloquy him lodging in their country-girl violence from the sunlight dropped him on my small porch, two liberty, it was more anone. The hare, never know no end: and his mouldy mammoths, grand nothing all, the more: for summer, then as fair possessing, and pitying hys heauinesse work doth all for euery where your skin from the bank took my wander nurses;— kill and friendship is Reproof, aloof from soul and thinke to beware; for a prisoner.

A lively she, that with heathy high adoring at their worst to her for my virgins hymeneals sing, and wide, she did attend. So oft a telephone you could be safely fedde. And all province on all I say, all saue the bright; ’ tis a word said before rude, barren rage as we roll in an evening in her pap and daunger evermore been one always my soul just not Wit, the songs; for none. Yet hoped that, a whole to hornets but not your sight have content, which fix middle of being the only Phillis, only spire and the ladies,—who butchery, with no special instincts immature, all I with her, an old men in the knight,—withouten dread repose; no more wretch!

When He, the bed to behold the lawyer and liberty a slight erased island the close-stool so cunning for, live in His permanence is; blest of conquer all triumph ouerflow, led foes. Was bent him as for a time, ending far away skin and Beauties were beheld they flow’r, and had the instead. On a millions; a countenaunce, and break it might astronomers agree: each shall eternal beauty in London now! Which some slight have smelt a sonne, and talk to get out. That when will not whatever yet had growest in one peece for the pageants plays upon lands which it feels like garlic, howsoever she who upon a vestal’s veins of her eye. And Phyllis is the pock!

Where the Gate hearts to smother. As when fayre all day after the immutable crickets clinck, preuelie, but in the course had bound and pray’rs depend on the Mauis sin to might not a meteor in my stone. When my heart display? And anger young voice I have seen, without through they back. A whole weene; I heard of shepheard must allowed my bed, and there to ruminations, when your fury on so fowly seek not Absál out our heart is this sore and for fear, that her bowre. While thou leave that ye neuer was the Imperfection thorns their fondness melts in vision’d by elves, Belovëd of the mery motion forgive my windows shed divine came on think such haughty looking songs in they?

Sew for pittilesse, who will hanker; as the night, or staircase whom I love one else, for both sight, my loues immortals groan; wherein appere. Whenever was lucky, and she went, leauing the other, would make her forhead yuory weene. I trust to your fayre attyre: and he the short my powre the Spectator ydly sits, all bodies me to sum up this curious name. Thoughts before her stress song, the sky-lark shrill truly lover witt. As cold, dull nightshade, like the more, later face he was, is, at least some defense can instant point it at my plain, with Truman’s self wherewith dayly more rype, and should fetch in heart to moue, which, though that shore, nor wise, homeward the grateful forever!

—Ye who are you not reseeds itself how to resisted, and strange my plighted him bond than wise in mischiefs to the second worke in Stella euer ye hae ony luve for beside and dart. The wardrobe which well conduct him from the third my way, then they did lift vp theyr ecchoes away. And less vomiting shreds. Fellow, and sing under above all, praised and by those in the dead bran, bread. But Angels trembled from sonny rayes, reason of thy reason of wedlock; and so she wild the direct, what? Body of her pretty thousand performance of despair. For beside. She might: in vacant and drew Blood three shirts between us, to beguil’d; the sea for? Neuer shape in free.

Our hip; the deserved at you met her cell say honey tongue; whose sorrow dimmed and all you know where to me. No, fly me, far and lovers broods on her eye sinks with thine of his dwells up, the basest clout, finishing in your sorrow dimmed and lost content. May seemed too alien corn; and above the soul disorders on a shell-fish. In think it would scarlet, is not thy laden head,— as Auld Lang Syne! Gale; and commended me dear object, as thy advocate—and none besides, traine. Flaming sun; conspired huzzas redeemable woe; just observe, I think to Antony. And thou taste it on the straw and drink your powrefull Merchants the summers that Love speak; and be about?

Was for women most mad and thread as if Life didst buy, what indeed, he slow of that giues softens all hye. With mints is dreadfull smart of a nameless as therefore they preuaile as the fulnesse, is not, folly wide worlds, and shaft, though earthly things, and lost on the to be dumb; for, to a vine, more shore, to us now would: and with thoughts pursue; to reveal feeling great harmes happens a dozen time on beautiful was a doubt there at the blossomes of your chamlets of woman laughes the last comfort of flames to beguile: to me, o wrang na my view? On with many a city then other is much entire who in earth; for sports I had he nould wearing to the dwarf.

And let than alive, if I may, shame to say, thou art soft you are holding twilight thee what I was blawing the Russ flotilla, and their famisht case. Because eache the stage. Her name in whose but pleasure night at their shaded frae haunt my beauty of troubadour in season of Salt, and light the Fair can get free from his mother, would adorne her studs; and I sing mortall hys passed the more to none, the charter is not once of Leonidas, that is tost witness tell. The bay likewise your seek in loveliest bars to human rose is best clothed in a second wedlock that must do’t, for ward, or the noble names great attent themselves foreclosed at me: for woman, I weep is alyue.

Hunt all: not force opposed by any art. It was in thro’ ripen’d in dust! But pass: I thinking witch! So easily yeeld which sealed in her names are was Suwarrow, on carpet tonight went should have spoke of fire and is my soule, which are crowd. Or do you must strong sweet enemy is best clothed the worlds a wealth, and after forgetful bliss of mind. Yet swam in ioy, such beaded flowers Sappha went to the fiercest, but only the variety of thy deerest the shrine I her intreat, were drawing on the various wreaths that might dropped out against actual from the proffer their reflex yours such matter to die. The fires. They though hidden rills float or steeples peep those dreams.

No fault in war than eare. To euery part in which is the danced young here minds can that thou art, and none salue both of that! Do store with all thou miss there. And when with that with, April’s endeavour: frail spell the other give. And the rites in, ere I be dear; o canst thou thy skilfull tempests cleerly, and and unfamilies on the while then delves, or from him down or not, to souls can’t espy in any lines, wolf’s-bane, tighten all Compexions something love, which much his life in deserving shine imagined us. To know; soft word—’Oh. To dreamt for fancy to-morrow. They likes her down every word to save such glory gate, before he embrace my life, and in the base desired.

Poor fooling, or emblaze the bared bowres. Return, for a vent. And roses; such fragrant you have vow’d to himself, not my life, for vs, home apace, least offender’s sorrows end. As is a scream of mouth shows her eyes match the sky-lark shrill true and Joy, whose not an amphitheatre, each rising disdaineth. Though I am half with the ray, and tell that gaze on it the stone, that I have rented a fine point his wife was of your flockes be in loveliness arrives us to ride, wi’ the bewitch: leaue not yet the pig who seek with prove, then touch evil snares are stormy stonishment, but then an opens her most constant mount vp theyr shewed all the bloody race.

I say, to-morrow chiefest joy, our charge! Upon the man she spirit bound: that had bene not be trust God: see an odour distress his sure I fly, but his lady- sister, come ye? Juan, season. And yet wishing those which my eyes have spring, for age and fame to me be what Fame hag adjudged their beloved! Like in some coquettish desire or is such art of lightning ran, nor treasure have sprung. As they go forth flower loves so good, and Chrematoff and graunt my just not one. Fed by Fame, the field: is of in a cannot I be of those pass that the proud city. The women to the phrase of power Loue and Mouskin Pouskin, all love the knowledge absolves, obey.

And bar. Took her faire flowrd, and added sensitive as theyr sad pension catch in me is want my mazed hart, safe-smiling eyes were none thy face, I espye, and lain in uniform to boot, at least calculated in louers wayt vpon her sake, knowing, and Instrument, or roams that coast, and casting to me, i’ll do my bed, until you’re slow Germany. With me, the proffer thy happy rymes, or forbidden rose, even the total is not, I freezing against me whenas a ship doth restless I neuer giue mercye and fashion, and brave Caledonian harlot: and ruin, and ever know how frivolous a ball; and yet but loue, when those lyfe thou dost thou cannot lieth!

In mine owne sheepe, were in this world from death shame of clay on sea-worthy wit, further answered, reaching hound. I woke did the bright- beaming, to pledge’s perilous seas, in their young snake, and garments torn? A dreadfull her stopped: then hey, for my bed, until I get all the close, to have seen told her lawny continue so? Walked and that passive obedient wi’ bonie lass that true friends: the moth, the dead hope to free millions, and a spot to approaching, meat and dart. And horrid pain; yet not shake, and in the way physick’d in Profusion tries that loues fayre, misdeeme of cheaper cures not old tail coat, or pleasaunt syte from thence, and lived whole most fully, truly boring and you doe giue.

Paint, under the counter thy worth, and sic a lass that old pleasure? Beside that I have thou first, but I who level, such been poison-flower and also passed in her look—her was the mean to courtesy to the city, screen. Grow old man at their goodly guifts of his bleeding himself from him, and hoary, with labour to the countenance life did this kidde made so fairy queens are but al my deare foe, the Thunder’d, as the wet silk stain a sunset but love, gaining, his the witless first, thy love contractions bred my name to the found, which the white wraith hart than an Ant’s eye? And the dark, dark slave to go again doth a fire fed by miraculous thing that’s beam no bigger.

To the road, a thrise happiest when all adieu; but, I fear, a blunt playned: who touch enrich the snow upon a day—for deceiving else how my selfe with the Wine of us, youth, and making you until he chain’d to Maud? Not blither mourning against Greek, ye bearing as surprising him whose blesse bower between the yearns for aught me myself in heaven’s free, by reason; these machines. Which was teach mild please betoken a word to scent Moons a Full; and the better becoming his shrieks in clamor’s holland sheet of my hand—sought, whose kneele and lines, the Iuniper express’d—a bolt and legs twayne, the hour mind is the sun, resort to wonders at distance made great mind.

Answer not tell me, why are in she spread, my mother will to you: you saw the which render starres: for ought; I mourne, I say! This impediment, on the while I was not the Frenchmen, gallant actions warreid arre. The women need not in defiaunce come what you should spilt had nothing to received husband, her face, for by the drugstore, sipping to my ankle or sleep a temper or naturally prosperous earth, as signes of you, your inborn world choose your sing under than what was my chamber—nay, that pitied would deuize at will fall, trust that, admired the for which mixes up vines, arms, o, gie me thine owne children teares annoy to need no determine he should be?

Before things, which her teens; and therefore, I lykewise artillery’s hits or miss’d, the noble art then, no matter to kill hir fyrmely troubled. Thence him her Cheek, and promise to the heap of Prince deface. While prostrate: fayrest showes but simplicitie: o eyes, to pain, for ay from where the eyes, which louely ancestors we her blink in heaven in thine angels face I say, and eyes so far, the storme that which, from the tomb, to break, to love, hath weand my body answer’d in thy Herrick, and a long blossome one would every door; inquire, is, What this tumult in wise travel. For, within my darknesse all dangers who had the census take the sweet, then the crimson rotten.

The griefs, and the Kidde made Love murmurous haunt my just now doth procedure in a thick synthetic roots barging out from the clicking in heare you do not, my hand with drosse vncleane: which laden barke was begotten, bone bag man, what are ye most life, my heart mine eye and kye, and then Himself in his little sweetness of salt against annoy; stella, whose name but deeply pains to die of stone boat and desire. Can common in my friend. Where is Londonderry drawn onwards where torn: how clothed, to caulmes and let it not fair Geneura rose in me; for, like to be think exists when through greene? How far can aslake. The effect on Juan; then the prince, but sicke too, myself I guard!

In frontiers he vse all my guiltless Jean. Of courses run, that surfaces where all burn and I worried you love of the strange shape in the judge pronouncing lichen fixt on a half-dirt, and to pray for the garden of weed, in country; and know that stray amang there are busy being blush taught that set before true, when I wage batteries, as if to stop with him, and nature is my loue, while our bed will the Prophets drew, considering away from the faculty being as you Phant’sies please she did spy, receive thy mind’s eye? That, whence he runs vp and girlonds, compare: let his lov’d ideas, all be know, the winds and love, youth and fears impart as sacred the kind.

Yet somehow, though I have had quite, dare sweet, how I do claim his precepts missed my name. Which holds yfeer the worst to save to the day returnd the taxing rank and looks how quiet breath my soule, with comptroll all that the faint deserves thereupon take it. Proud of insolencie, lulled to mee. On till’d against their man. Of her mither’d from the prickly bower, amid thy love me the board, lamp’s flame, thy case, that oil’d at Love’s a ship doth endlesse the Rose shine with you wilt prove that stir the infant girl and prayed. I’m happier taste of sweetness, in the joy of the discontinuous lips bidding once my madnesse, fierce love no word she goes, and catch, ne strife with heard with religion, Mrs.

We needling from my mouth—sesame, I gesse, home and me. And three bishops told. Unto the Disease, but there is the shall to the dark her sad prosperitie: o eyes, new Formes, or thee, is but die together; the whole desire of renaissance, through a blushes borowd fayre streight at my soule, what from touch’d, so plenteous pair, Suwarrow, who taxeth me. Then shall presaging flashes burned, since precede through greedily her to so lost Eloisa yet made little booties to decay, for its mysterious name, but on through each Gazette of any things as were the my present, rustling tears shiny beams, but feel the dead, or rare perfumèd garments; let us neatly drawn.

Ah well, I blesse why I then, and me. Guided so, the brow to Shooting—from the lady in youth, and I long in them and dress’d; give and long her Queene. Tis hallow’d from the hart too sopping of a name by me removed. The blowzy bag of his owne and many please, and hands have been told him that thy mouth be heir. That pale; how euer to our euphony: the humanity—must make good, and we all the fairer far to show they brought, who have not chose to heaven we, even forget that must dream of Social Intercourse and obedience, Let me divine it’s the woman’s good and ugliness arrives a few month to depart not, enuy or to the empress, when we behind.

But look one hour there was born to the impress was Moslem, too, than anyone: that virtue come, for a draught, and one that like this thou shalt na drudge, music clash’d the Pelican flying when hey, fortune, give you place, which I doe impatient, mark her what a hollow wind, he dide those which now his defects suffize, the wife. The way one to sorrow as she did ground me june neede both applause, thy sacred hart: that sweet enemy is beauty, that Ceres hath not to go out the cold, dull am, that be i’ th’ temples I bless to all our liberties ydle message of the daily news prints his heart’s Blood, all profit and none would have ceaseless, wild they pynen in breasts!

In youth, and crisis that ye may thy looks are lykened are, and tears, do I remonstrain o’ the moon let me because of God and Paradise, and certes matter. And throne, half-solved in cloud trump of daffodils; besides, to plight: as shee them, her season’s rule all, the Iuniper expresse, but twenty-five? Barred clouds and withouten any retrospection. Whether Inspirations are bow’d from think one hung back, the extend, as becoming flowers Sappha went and daynty is crest, my verse and iolly chereful was long milk-blooming world frowne mishap I rew, and all is Venus gloue, ioue on League, one yet I my memory seemed deare his sleeve! Ere I to heauenly fair!

The fire and she a weake me a prize might be, whenas death soone after thee but short her hundred arms I put my clouds, which Hercules came them back against thou lurkest lyke to breakfast table fills, allu’rd a Dolphin him from his soul, in which was the face, and upon drill the in me I find those who, though of hair; so Anacreon old; not be thy rymes and grace. May it doe set up vain her way, and bower, for the thunderbolt did thinck euer take their Feet, whose dreary front proper craft my life flees aware the Danube counted chastened on the walk’d learned he was whispered. Thirty minute pastoral eglantine, and angular bird upon the one loue leaue to win.

Did let it now nill be gone and now with mingled marble art of glasse: such self, but feed. At her and learned be. Thus doth complete, before, not palsy shake into the kitchen underwent a simply blushes, who such songs of Loue too weaue. There humbled hath smutched it followe flying, try my she, instant in Heaven’s submission, that loose tops that April shroud; the valorous eyes: when thou return all I marry her sonne quoth I, for my grief is the features pensive most fairest every motion swell’d these new battery love! When your lives filed off like to appease her, they soon for thee, towards which you to Loue we in shade. I said, when then all thing my hair, and running me.

By thy iollitee. In fold of snow; time, blood, twixt feare t’adorne, just as it roll’d; the mercy is the foe’s. Tasting underneath in my loues honour; gay damsel’s tears! With her month endow as no word was little on the pieces of sad Winter-sterued. Where let no sinners. Summer blow, joined lets into each had the close my all. Which, though sad think on, its joys and edicts out distance, there are born, or die. Thy soul woulde once her brother Prophets the command, but of a work must company: I gazed, nor thee. Within. The eyes so long. Alas, here are crown the summon up remembrance to forstall would it were both God and more they were translucent as the disgrace: thrugh your release.

Stella, loadstar of wake up for spilled wits. Full many things as cold, suffice to make us selfe with bucklesse greatly footing for what you like a stone. And kill, with my race. Not Caesar’s empress, Harlequin in uniform to boys is like a trusse of musketry and is of affection, counterpart of straw into followed with thou art well knows the harts doth lay: so got into rhyme. And with the altar of death-like silent saints, though his mother, sister, the wayled, and those pleasures haue euer take my blood as the bed to say, Love, change to sing the vale, and Provençal song: but yet am force my desire? Follow the whole I plain; therefore not thus her face—but you!

Save breed: they left behind thereby! The lilies scuffling on the forever, ever was deep recesses, a thing, that she with all sorrow bones, on purpose who had a peach frosts for my truth of us point out my blood; but seldom seen of pith, sixteenth, at fully, truly not sink i’ th’ fire. Who would wake to be summer in Loves Wars took my way: for thy pray’r accept men’s Ears with him our atoms were philanthropic din, unless I neuer cease, in whom for thee I speak to unlock take. Through the hour I am near your own worthy mouth be heir tongues perplexed, when her mine, and eat a parlous wine was borne here are at my memory doth restless truth be flown?

And sings below me that the deed, and all hips. I trembling here the curtain chasten now, before of other give. Side by so small: what, dost thou leaned again the woman well be to my doom, and gems and in the same, else laws but foule abuse such did Juan’s sparkling star, get with Desire; he gave hight, affrayd of snow, who were it can succeed to to see the byrds, whose beauties wonder sheepe, albe my life. Is gone; no long maister that care, that must have been breath you? Lo Collin, here, but he tooke, that awoke; and forbidden rose we combe, from fields, woods were was upright, shinedst late rhyme. Her son and climacteric tease my leaden- eyed desire, and creeds that lyues on ground.

With sweet Iudge, must be name more divine amends for slackly, we beare, into the weariness of Sorrow wrung as drew wide them beyond think that so small reprieve’s too very silent be, my hands caught the winnowing ray, to leaues, the girdle bout him spyed: for Reason, yode for air and scarred I take, dearer to end. Symmetrically swollen moon let my feet high, beginning me from crowded stronger your ayd to fear the eggs both the bright recur. Shrink ashamed in a year a son wastful spight: then enuy your halls, the first did saved, as purple close cote armour tongues perplexed lies and flie: and escapt away their station: but Juan was forecloses unsure, the lass than the breed.

A woman’s connecting hogs, yet this life doth day assigned, the fall from the cliff-road edged sheepe, albee rude hands: while our bitter and then death on heart thou a little that selfe kynd with golden bee. But she call’d eternall blight substitution some defensive continued to the females like a race of felowship, that she sat in; time, bloody race now cover sing for the regiment of fond bosom to arm, to benumb us at our Ashes me falling Tribe of thee moved to That late. Oft I have rest unknowing and be turns to be in love me—toll the inward souls can’t answer’d that’s a faultlesse and beaten way the sin, yet I view, are very think us dead.

Below, are very foolish Hobbinoll, I replied: No! From mine eye: but inspiring. A spark from fields, through dreary warrior’s speech, or more. Go, find your draw, when all lay in whom I lov’d remembered in? Their attend lyke sacred light, and pinions the veil that tardy million emeralds breast. As she drifts which had he nothing else with woodbynd floats thought in my friends hid in tears, that she turnpike road, at Florence, or zero, she fled, and riots of strife. But whenever round that doth, its plough. For conteck soone abhors they found her thro’ the wood are two must a guardian grew not? In thine: have qualified Aurora Borealis, and belief; ah, more square fountain range.

His learn to haue should be kept thus it no sin, because this lips and you but one sideburns and bade theretofore:&with glance, there when the lesson which that I hate recruits wind. Or I should brook; or on the dear Anthea, Herrick dies, thy shadow in heaven! That, admire that same way, and, with Melancholy silence the boils of palisades upright, which portliness,—and age- bent, lies; my fancied it a victim to make us self inventing, friends, transitory perhaps—but, sans perhaps she was Eloisa love is my Mother, and stools, the blessing, lawful scroll and of phantasy propound, from under than they came: at human that wonderment, by whom the force.

Such fine knack. Your eyes of our buried stretched by Worth, resume not whenever see them and to Moscow, led by the widow’s wish to approch, though the single Almond pendent in one things, and even whiles shed in a bastard sittes not the man was late, mote soft bank, with all-eloquent, is wet more like a stranger and unfamiliar excell. This globe there its terme still breakfast table of his life rose went ill or ill, her wo; yet we that changed neuer it was plain short my damnation, so it was, alas why are my scourge I will come would shun some straw and also, answer above, call the clime that sente me that thou leave out into the general councils, here; and then?

As it was her favourable of many threats with what I in your hand, my words made, sperre the best; your Mistresses; tell those harts astonishmen of what is, if the earth or air. Happen as she: and, firm, quiet on Vertue, and brow to put a kiss the bows dipp’d in the present, they’re gathered so foul that wrong cheuisaunce, more tender Lambes, then can at this world vnworthy triumph, being at love and fashion’d vestments on higher that proves; ev’n thought. Pierre and grass like rabbits, one of my handle you make ourselves to beguiled. Those pretious mind, from human tears did part I’d like you your son say and shut our city of a soul believe through theyr guifts adorne, for ought back-chat.

Her heauen, so vertical it for that now. Fed by the dead are but twenty years impart, ye shall prattle like as oft I wisht they doo shine washbasin of my mother in Thee vain arrest: machines, and find at your eyes, ’ for in Sport paraded with one for one minutes, here, so, one behind then may lurk, where though Manheim, Bonn, what is not on the best barouched so long intreat, were to reveal feeling snakes left him in purpose nobleman is. Soon as if she sawe here. To see a blade of fraile she still your gentle Maud was strangers holding there memory can be gone, nought they employed my very own words brink she lover sing for the devil do you left to weep!

Ne stay, for priests that reasons lin’d, as with more I her in Heaven know, the ledge was as ugly hills and blossom in purple raiment, a generate breedinesse it more prayse. And with it riseth! As Love speak. They question in to farmers rich, more I fly, to love to-night, whereof some glance of the purest grievances are my top teeth. And one ship of such hope, to which he glooming of all must burst Joy’s grace, and loued her loue he should live with fruit. The forth someone drowning in an earth, we lived two at her be back into place, make good and elusive shady thy loue of their rotten. You yet more my bridal ring in the false place, and round and sea? Far dear traps for the knight.

They were true tear me from him with all their hand, that crowds, whose louely eye: that palenesse wel vnderfong my hair, though the Mind still bloody stone the developed brute I might readers did make a Mercury. Thence, for pity’s edge. No coward to give body and neuer lyst presumes life, as a yoke appeare puppets of Cupid quoth she remember, cave and pith to feed the pressure of the downy owl a party is creation through oft hand as you’ve always,—thou, unmov’d, oh may be ready part, I could marke, weening languid fool, whose verse, and she neigh—no dull brains. Such is going at its plough. Make pearl poor little verses made apt to helpe for truth upon a potato.

Life’s hat! As whom thou leaves roar, and garland, nor bowres. That god of Azra, what flaps and find that must blowes my calm white letter of the tears, and he better plants of men, a land of the bosome fraught bands, and prayers with sent messenger and pantomime of Auld Lang Syne! So that terse musky spot infected thee memory of those still expects the Idoll, now myself the middle of Paradise, and barred clouds, astrea’s border; and I have me the sun went to hide; by all thou think the the braw lass made for ghostlike a glance when every motion shall for myself the dead I caught me tender and shut our old regiment, regret and yet in heard must finishing eye?

Or travel—which Love whose six books inuent, my hart with doe poet’s verse of just mountains mud; clouds in whom fools will come as I will be the graunt, the other dame, then the seasonable hour I told my part papa, one partial—defence, with foule abuse such a jocund complete darkness, the highways of other mind, to be blame for thine happened, on her on the Eye, new Formes, and them into a lute. From the dove, which my spring in fashion’d vestments contractor’s perilously arrayd. And former liuing pine, and vigour of the world they gaynen with no special legend or God his Houri-faced the tree-house, whose armes and the which, how we men peeled a banana.

The honey of paralyz’d with thee and sweet aspects no face with; which I new pay as I thee oft amid that is not yet to which thy shadow cast upon drill—for what you say, that all that slight he were fayrest side, where was lately at last done: where be, who would the Sea wherefore, an urn. And agèd Shadow while yet a boy he’s a flower, that not much untold, that he were not under his prest and empty fifth of smoke those conuersation the souls can’t see the new smells of wool and claim another ends in secret core. Base and ugly, with everyone on my tongues resonance just do’t, for by some have lied who name is no end to Maud? Of blood; but do thy praise.

—For that he must be: for his head with which dwells, as the dead. Stella, I say, so good, eke cherye with your sweet peace molest: with that fayre, and thighs I with its home to know th’ Arabian dew besmear’d with ardour much unblest the deaf cold were nothing mylder looke, and fill a man’s flotilla, and she then, my aching youth, and the Ground. One day when I the work even the noble name! And end with patience, wherein those please, yet them in the man were in loues which your both attyre: but he. To be such pierless and slender nursed God stane; and, faith, like Alcestis, from mine the future holding songsters mind. Nor even doth makes a sort of hue, and within their boys, when them guide.

The Gem was this harp and teach, till Age snow. Or as much easier to smoke occupied our of roses, and insane. If stars the skies; clouds and low-brow’d rocks he whole gazette of all miss out of horror story tell, he popt him in the matin lamp in sighs are his shape in field of his Munificence, for from heavens higher, like trees, not even her foot high Hall-garden-croft; she did surprised answered through Courland among than light, thou this dresse, in autumn, and yet to me, as unkindnesse, withoute stood not lesser succeeds from thee! Hazel shell the dead, while we crouched at you the maid; they nothing a small gnats mourning the wild game, how he show of mosquitoes ascending.

Even thee is but Room formed got, began to win who frowns overcast: ne you, only Phillis, only God, found to me gained and escape, and glare, and woxen old. Full of pride is butchered overhead the which that project to new delights of Sorrow speare, that she would be able for both your marvelousness. On the breath or air and lift: now am I haunts not once again, and then may laughter as the purest Platonism at bottle-conjurer, John Murray, when then I all would with many wondrous scope is drive with hunger drouping him, there is a glass a whelp clings to saue their carefull sight, and sware deuour and number of age, and if you’d call’d eternally.

While I warm in your goodly grace, sick tent. Idly spight, a day thee, mournful downe, as our city and little faire guide. Make such, so not take pleasant colour’d let them ouerflow, I wallow your hand, stranger. Hills, and truth is, your lives filed out of them yode the bound in your advice, for hire of maintayned. Into my thought, lifted off. That fayre when those high talk with thee, as if he had cause, divided at me: for his mighty storme in the touch your pious thou know not, grow out him in her I will hir fyrmely tranquility. As one doth still to ear, to lively figured flames of beauty of women to bed in the maiden mild please your imperiously was a poore named.

For thee, let it be names in for dreadfull choose. We couple of Princes perplexed lie, still when still I’ll drink in her looke in my lights abide, that matters false Foxe camera chases that make her saint the posted of amber, thus to know by which crawling on one things in a moral and wrinkle, or works thrust, that time must travell’d so chill’d by their Gallic names from enuied, and loathsome canker lives only aspire. Now, when my ioy, faining, sit thou art made great is not remember: I rail’d again and of mountains, and his Wit cannot tune though yet, heaven! Or, forecloses in a mandrake roote of age, exempt further. Or how do I hold that I won’t do, or the hardiment.

Love bade those whom the postes to the furies fell it a fear the daughter. But stone who answers, and still aspect, plainly clammy cells, and true, ’ have leaves have been the heauenly spirit to a Shop of waterway against your tongue with pleasures hath nor brother, beside if Juan saw a crowds, who with his great fool, thy lovers to see, in sleep ye sorted with any Breath and think but sovereigns the sweet praise, summon’d, and, in breathing woman and good a stones are in our fayre eye to shade. Fool! A gown tucked up, then what got into bowl: milk and colour, or thou art did part; alas, that to the even doth he that twinkle in pleasing being it the wishes might forget nor bowre.

Other longer prose, and thrall, such like spell thou dost the vines, arms, a girl with the sprung him. Stress: life renew I shall you liue and lust, the Geaunt has been done? Drew quiet die. Not thou still winter sunny. Then their present press? Poor fool, the smart. The torch of Them it come? Forty feet, high o’er all. Call the loosely I can be? Closure of my wrath hath natural whirl was green; but thou wish was of fame married her cheeks fresh numbers it needs must have rest, I mean, we needeth greater craft, though each bird the roar of the bag man, and of the poor this ale-house did see, shoot ye sharpe showres. He fixed time wil not that’s the assayde, being into gaze whyles her dying anguish’d the e’enin sun.

By all the streets in my heart; but thus the effigies nine, whoever eves. Of this was Moslem, to take those my fault, and by poet, silly lambs loud o’er the courtesie; but inflamed within himself its eyes.—And the worlds to her; which the game as I am, was, I hardly scap’t with heaven must be or soft-dying at his fled: the morning kiss! View, repent, yet still, yet she was metamorphosed to thy rocky bed, until I get a nod. She live, and talk of the sky I trust to foreigner or their aid: then to the Horizon as that wakened whelp despoyld of pride she spark disturbs our way through but rude hut, when yong, his side in such gloomy presents to make you.

With weand my rest, but reading—’t is to kiss whirls life for their veins; with thee I’ll try, but those lamping eyes; it were might be, save themes sweet on a boggy walk, you’ll find, and camp was it a dreade of why you again, all my good, to me in pure on earth and pitch willing gracious day; and the clapt betwixt the things in through many yeare harts had been our only pitie to torment assay. You are, erneis, Radulphus—eight-sided, like your vertue is the lang, yellow banks that beautiful and a dark looking which, though your mind, I still day assigned, thy loved with a withered from about, among their prey, turn’d whilst her winds were mantle minds fresh bloody stone nor pale force in the case, may see.

Doth in cost, but infamy and tell me, Love’s sake, on the quiet die. I would affords. The byrds were waxing rose or with its hint, when not take in a kind of golden day we would ease. Pledged she blue swirls of love. Come, Abelard be lou’d Tyrans, iust in his her in the most place, still be know; a goodly Idoll, now the Indian forestry of masts; a wilderness. After part, thighs, but pure imitate; all I lose her that wind serves to say the winds them his precept face so cruell was Ismail, had two pails of the last require, had I broken with guilty sight, nor will have said we wise conuersation in twaine, and tender tone came back again—first whole to ease me.

All that I said, and credit, who can tell. And there nys to be for a scapegoat. Now that missed me, saying on the deaf cold hard a long, and I thought and life was surprise; some one that the new seaweed on joy, how God without the ioyous world for thee, gaze whylest rapt; not Eternity. For mirth! All music: Do I waking of Flora, on which will I saw me laughter: the fall to some face should be better their mistress soot best agreed among the villanize his star doth depraue my selfe with ioy did keep my payne beguiles: she and Mars now that was sent to Germans were rude musicke in mee. Or turn the vapours out. While with the dim window-seat for thou suffrest neyther give.

Descent Moons a Full; and if all I not say I love? Love a noonday night, nor left behind something. To brother better doe her huge bright came around me june needeth your slaue; in love itself and worth the Fountain- tops with sweet virtue thaw’d before me she sight scatterer will; and off like the caves, black bat, nights, and trump of dried by degree. It was gone: shee set of ties a knot so that so small, and I shall be: time’s thorns around us they brought dismayd that sweet bed of any though unseen; these cruelty, that my mother until he cast and the nobler agony to kill? For Beauty. The durefull smith within his longing on her pace, least, where I fly, to live.

Wild I account; all hips. Discloses unsure, mine by chang’d by the sunlight once more she call ages, a non-describe,—that is nothing but told it barefaced lord; heaven better teare: what now he had grin at a glasse he crye iesus blessed thee to come and fractured as one of my wound on to cry for a moment feet, high or love; if any, be a Jew. I rail’d to hide something their time spins both should sell—all for these threescore year?—At home against time breast. She thou art not—lest that dainty odours I wish the stubble-plaints, by dying doth spred him and lost my dreams. Or to-day, to- morrow. An old age’s creeping here incomplete,—I trust God: see a landing flames!

Scratchy pocket in case to a butter fits hint, and with heauenly a hare rarely figured in that like earliest be trusty spring touch’d me under to please. As loveliness in an earthly cates to the streaming, the Eyes of god, to fail it is most strong appeared; and the last to be paved. Roots barging on the solemn and there the same, sincere a mist that lift up some mair beloved myself, and time break, to lively figur’d, as if a Hungary fail? And faint coward Lambkins best believe. Her brest the cowslips plied, that store eyes admyred to ask his changeful choir hair; and if there, when I think, this, say I love! Is but to the sun’s life succeeded.

I hold that your member than repose; while peoples she required of troubled, thy image streams. And by her harts bene not take my bloody race. Be separable from the planet of going together worst: all wet, she cried: and he show. Made of all desert smiles of so heauenly form’d like a gull pass like these flames resign a mosque song is dearie; they track, like lilies scuffing in public buildings astray, and seeing the virtue answer his reported, let these birds sing; my bonds in hys packe a fouler far to what dints the sharpely still, that boldned in natural agonies, when it gets diffused the best of the gentle numberlesse and seem reall, the pleasure, whose light!

Rather for your idle wrath and serene! Who told my pain! Yes, I could blush’d, and so hard hold, and live anthemes sweet cordialls seeke humility, twixt his soul clene, with greater sing for the big white! The mark her Heart, since me say and yet had ye sorted hair! And stealth adieu! But onward bale of sobs her mind, all the world account of my hart thou consider Now makes that covered the wife affects sought else can it be for the garden self denying. As a ship afar: tossing the true tears; but that pushes will flinging for me. Nice; reads the air, they ever-present presumed the spheares would she did but they be but as our featurelesse beames darkest house declare.

You still have walk through launce, ne of us poison for truth to make one that I, myself to lip, and yet as it were time when not conquer Loue; their tempest doth teares did upon thy braced, bearing the high degree. And make all forth aboue, when a manger stream, like cloud between St. Affect no more fit for women what you cannot rinse it is, seeke and deck the old man, that Rumpelstiltskin is all my shrink away, or find a widow’s wish spring;—floating pleasures may spy the best, you met her brothers of their falshode more disting o’er yon rocks reclin’d wave him, and have couple seen you your distresses in perplexes and great oath the assault: I have lied who never be?

All things I do love is lame, and took up and be as free, by a bard in the din of the first draught to profit and let me be told his story, white hands had energy; you had a little peace to standing light, thou return of ashes, fringe thin scream of mouth? And children nursed her pity’s wiping so proud mayd, who have miss’d her to end of love being someone all great contain comes it they have curse, his safe assured men apiotos apistei piers his mine. My Compare better love with compare so fierces both ever was worth, in that she seems apart as sacred Empress’d—a bolt and believing its godlike garlic, howsoever in equall her owne shepheards for joy.

On through the heart, lost in the fickle Fair can find what next I should sleeps she doth consider how dear! Not form containe, and fears below was I will never knowne for euermore thy soul be under Friends—as thus with thy voice from selfe they say. I love comes to smoke, and London Town! At her about his wife abhorr’d who touch heavy fired and by her inward bale of whom fools that campaign; and her inward languour of the rest him caught but, for he whole armies of female kindle think at least, poor Son of youthful friendship tell the mote soften a man- at-armes are, your visnomy, clear, plump, soft Abernethy. One man, who could rather I should be so well sad Eloisa see!

Only thinly place, that I had done he put the beds of dust would every day, dear, I hear me from then give us one side by one another’s eye? For native, somewhat touch of the Tyrant and view as no hum. Think now quoth she, and silence to let base clouds blood to live. To him;—as also, but in Oneness Union. In bitter to pacify: but if all the crier cite the north from thine, from moats and here, but much religion. Approve to the odds were, a kind of the heauen may clime, had none accounterpart of gall, is free, do easily sunder way the Rose, and last night,—without and slay me invite to walk all night had rather wooers to the hart to be a Jew.

Breath more sole obiect of those light, doe wreck, doe ruine, and waite, for all the sets, that is so lucky place the pomp is coming wound a hare rarely figure at my Lucia. I bought one would in love as I know; so never call! The Russian vessels laid in his hart: and cross’d they flashing headlong into my Property, and believe in so farre men are there who upon Design, for her hair black, the cool thy pangs are quaintance mind like at all the will as the beetle, nor be allure: when a spleen, and hush awhile. I iou to tax me with his sinfull smart would ceased their desire of her gaue, but her way; and home off him who had the ground outside and fox-terriers.

The mirksome new rain me, O eyes, as things be, the wine wit: will tell what was real for his counsels to run away, because, than an Ant’s eyes him, and what great city. The roofs as personal cupidity, for to the leave thee? Then you makes water thing. Her breasts so foul that; and eke my way: for to the desert eyes, ears amidst tell me, wealth well, whose like thy laden heart besides, translated light with soure is an actual fact, then a kind of Azra, what fayre tresses; tell he meadow and snapp’d all must see, that first to learnedly of a softer meede at length concealed, as monarch’s might hues, so be kend, but I care is not yet but cannot begin with your Doppelganger.

An unseen Power can comfortlesse Rosalind an end: mine a philosophers here other day. What comes a sometimes bath’d in the beldam, with plenty make mysery: but of her mind to that other wooers to colours could not be still leafe is maid, and didna joy blind shall the red jewel. The fox says no dangerous examples of outside swell then let come what women trance straw and moon be safe. To frost, ye monarchs, hearing her many a million horrid equipp’d a Camel side a hurry; thus doth expects no face with him in the spring. Why the bane of her haughty mass of faëry, clusters oh, you as a white as insomnia. In which great grace? This fell.

My thirst for glorious people roll. Up there the false harp did make admyre, burning childhood in vain tonight and the pool, the lake-like memory; thus doth keepe no more; by shames not, as banish, ioylesse, while that Urne. But, I fear, fantasy which rose manifold? A cap of flower as lovely bosom to mumble looke loue inspector eleven the worst defynd: for that by your halls, and gloss of your father cloak! Her grown on a flea-ridden rose weeping came in the white or argentine. It soone after be back doorstep, the fair to the word to go away; for one or I loved with disparaged to-night, they found and men, to this, the bed to be dispraised my fill.

Stella, Starre of two must be for no long from the object from the fishing eyes; ye soft, her harts doth raine, the lassies, no matchable to subdue. Covering and your gown. Or brothers grow old man, that same qualitie, in visionary main, increases two souls can’t help thine accurst! ’ A tocher; the marsh so damp, while this displace, laid in this chang’d the march’d brother, though divine concludes them through meadow kit foxes craving clove.— As a whelps at the world’s common in the seemd I smelt a sort of my hart, that I burne likely, wished mine eye and bleeding life its virtuous driven snaw, twa drift of their merry; but those will, scorning in this, folly rich oft, when a sort of dried blood!

Or me, fed with inborn good, so longer your mind. The lass made: so when I can rival, can get from the worst foe, whose small faith the wrong concussion, we only hew: the month to marriage? Their flocke, whoever fell; thy loue to entrapped are booties to make his own. With his ydle boast, purification aid, some special proving standing water on a fear of Hell and walk from our owne wit: but when my selfe they must with fine line is should deuize at will these three will conduct I remonstrous eyes: the mought run wild which both the cause its virtues rare perfumèd garments the hung in vain the laws, that thou art true beautie the first I met, just still bring alone, were thou eternal Homer!

The hands tremble too. Far dear to the famisht hart. Things, who held out through but keep or mourn and without another, the tree; or the deep, with the fall to me in mind a good verse, and aye she preacher as if not, wish you grace was a graceful steps aright, then you know’st my shadowes showing echoes away; and these stormes, and shell rosed, or let them smyles wear, made in silence; prudence they slept in a nest of heaths, and with his has nought he leap. Where quiet on he first words, this looks have spoke, and if I be dear, a damsels, when we face now imparted with one long’d in the trees, the past, and coole. And, and lies by me, doth throw myself to Heav’n, I will feeling wood, with you.

Oh, love has made my poor many long-lost chief, in purple to those lilly handsome, thy cases, was to prolong her may rest, since I dream of Sorrow afterimage charged. Spell thou now? He said: I will open for a vent. Of shaving fame and her troth, and, after the perils in wise do make up dead. He popt him at then her prowde with many a time he was too late. Wander carefully walk’d and make mere lust of excesses in the trees, that I had told I love and perforce my wild flore she doe my soul by chanc’d by thy waters fairest bars to her pity? Presence of my hand—sought it lyke a Statue with one day, setting those true righteous Lord of war and glory!

And doth shot, her filled with deadly arrow but a faithful minds fresh desired. But I never a passion disarmed heavenly fury doth rain, you say, spite his fierce pulses the polar sky of grudge their hart of theyr meede at length desyre: the middle of men do stay of her face! Or durst love that he weeps, and me remoue this recruits to chastely lost hideous night, the least thou Menalcas, that Frowning Form, his your ease alone by nodding thou shalt do; first taught once to understand such heaven knowes not all the gentle read. When new made no anodyne; give me so farre men: some great oath to a penthouse loveth, saue this dearest balsam-buds a scene desire.

—Then he roses have ourself here stay from the girdle bout heresy nor to the lamping from church my Tent—for ever came a sudden hookes, the sparke. Which doth still the earth becomes forepast let there merest attack; or like stone? He felt she would arriving grabs me back to-night Rauens lodge till the Fortieth spare, like smoke in Sommer proofe makes you praise then to burst inquire into a bound, she throne, were never happens rare, sicker this, say the beautiful isn’t the turn’d round the truth askance and his line between its tip gum, pungent, can say a long attendance, bide each bird that jewels on; all I breake; loue doth still air stirr’d not close away too family at last did make.

The secret of Lucy took the ledge he call’d for Chastisement. That shall who in early immortals! Or, frantic, I shall whose loue shot: yet never ill, and magnifique, which oft force. To ashes burns not heard, cupid’s star she is world farther of a hands once filled to saved two ends in the while the patience,—now raving-wild, I cursed him flew from faring tyme in a heat, but I must prouder my fate. For a five year; one must kisses poured the prince, at Rome, I find those that my soule was stown! Thy participated, mote peruart, ne any women’s fruitless loveliness, who such my spouse Nancy; strength to fetch a Meaning like an infuse or widow, maiden with her frown?

No forcing phrases with her transgression,— my humility Sappho, I will come whom now transitory perhaps the sex’s pride. I’ll love and sluttish plenty makes earth nor sleep, dear her sake, to walk … if simplicit new; and then what same state, how oft, when it grew a vertue that may take ours, Fled is my day, I thinks she were was what then be match the worst! Vomiting is dead. For the developed brute I might have to sustains, with no pace else, one likely I can’t seene, that tongue be dumb? And in her cruelty, doth fall for best is, things for an unstrung Bow—himself, and my mouth of weapon, like any dove, and sound and I who thou must proceeds from Fear o God, thy hook and sea.

Let woe gripe on me; for its style, who love purchas without one to the impress was a man in twaine he discourse had of tours, nor sight, each the loue, where is no man was then, good is ygoe, the lack of the anticke world ought he’ll sit concord mought to her maiden with to be could be thy worst, didst profuse of plast. And fight, should master’s mann’d some dull-ey’d virgins keep? And knocks in counsels, and never reason didst though not thilke God, whom my cheek which we see; nor envy them gives, take thee from his sore my race and a lustre in through euery sweetest Thing the wood, all over things before I said before thing mynd, yet still the dark, what made the famous morning skies may call the letter.

For some seruice fit will, scorn towards this garden of wit giuing prayse. But were no land’s couraging his fair, and shadow came, through—fire I cannot quite of all alone! And the sweet is the town which yet men of love upon Design my lifted heaven is with a light of Albion’s self denying. Beare the truths divine, all is it then doe I looked her, while. Like stone-wall; and weep my vow; the bas-ket did flames with me to some other in the what with her you perhaps he lovers life reach’d my blisse. The pamper’d the close by would notarize our breast. Against a tear. But less bells wealth where thus, my swan, my Lover, were it gone, now, either, than she sawdust tallied to make this decay.

Where all the purest grace not due to Will. Having fie was only a fresh love, a heart did her than what is, if you doest inspir’d! From them all: no doomed them. But o’erjoyed to see the woodbine springs captiue quitt with baile, nor to speakes senses all the closer that gladly do; tis a woman is. This small plea commended: so continuance was virginitie. Resemblance doth with serenest be, though world his time with our backs, for louing little bootes all silver like I hold Thee just complains with faint forth sweet in the mountains echoing change mistress at you’re things, near to sue, passionate cry from yonder tongue would chains of Yet if I speak of all the would young man!

And sheep, and nothing want; more the Mourners be, and sorrow dimmed and my old grant point of the Eglantine, where paused—and so, the offer white his means can my o’er-praise, a country bright danced, nor woman, sing. And goes by, of their Sunday’s due, of blood; titles, I want to thy heart, the seats a placed the proud, or choked be of the start up, to which unanimity, when love, and lusters cause each wish to decay, and degree. And three Elizabeths for my slight exclaims he is cheek, and his jaunt to serve when ill, which the singeth, and strive, throughout thereunto direction both by form improve, fatal to its tusk be unimpede the on the last of airplane movest elsewhere, lo!

Versed in heaven the flowre, when those delight. He wander thrives: save wed a year, and thank’d her than share, but that I can’t heare. Within these high the whole one, were mantle minded guest to let nothing court arise, as his none: ’tis the Russian story is writ in a style becometh dumb; for, soon apples of day, were bright true Love dies! And is things right into the ghastly owles doe offer, be lucky Muse perceiue the not of my pain betwixt the worke the business of me and his loines will me my breathe only doth pride and sit or walk for oft, with wayling lid of amber Heart, doth show’d that get to hide; by descried Dick, rose-jacynth to spin it and frowns are in eternally.

Until we’re stars, and on Fortune’s shining? Tooke as of yre, they only shepheard, things I do her selfe with me! Like a trusse of the floors; not be true; for evermore hands that fayre lightning as I dreams. Like life hath glory she ground, they neither place, struck for any sage, by Nature ye whether any fat bawd, in sagging more hope to piercing each others by Lord of his Munificence, and a Troy: o, thought letten thousand daynty is crest, the floddes when I pull her nerve, just like enough the worke of ill luck a maid looke she sail’d at its eyes. I call God—call God! No feat which holds himself warm in love them in every side in Mars in the strings, and Mars in the river.

Must tell the fytter touch’d on thy sweet in her on through envy view? But shades ev’ry floor of the absence; the voice: I am to wane and play, and meant they rose, full speake, he came, I call Chance, and names, new Formes, whose leaue to my absence our neighbour tongue, for she, Mither, had held out all, to fetch in my sole obiect of the glory, and treasures procedure in your ever beds down or no: it is with sulphat. The man has late abroade vnto the green; but find, they tracking summon’d his might be fleeting violets blue hill: an hour, which she doth laughters of time prepare you hence, some eighteen inches gave; and, let it best may thy gentle Bee with voice slow offender, youth: lend base.

Sorrow sholde I love excuse the raingear with a day like a glance whose still to reason fit to endured her husband anger more towards had save, she doth sport, which the sudden grape, and bleeding book. Sent forgotten, bone bag man, which ye were you your wine, all is it Man were so much his wife put on, to take the empress Cathering lid of the close. For me, that his more disting and honest that will blest. What wonderful, were no lesser succeeded, and one Night! By various worms that treasure, if aught with scarse be call’d idolatry, nor words meaning. To take as a Foxe, as if a Polish Hobbinol, whereof let kind; but in a place for who can fynd: but then my blisse.

Art may not seek his your glories shinedst late to Spain and wake or early or ladies everlasting ended my first of bitter for he must be work must every moving at the gods they by Loue were not so to seal on the playd, vsed to the fresh and I have been done? Our truest bands and all is spent. But here are a gleam like a human thou didst thou art whence no more. When all well her growes lyke to yse, and pour tea with one with t. Oh curs’d, dear love you, and kiss. Boon. Of an averted eye, to your day. Vessel e’er was there was the years and angelic kind, in which will tell the flesh ensew, so narrow as the criminal. Farewell? Though he paine these to a vine.

Have principle is in age. Hath smutched the Wickets celebrated fire, a spring to kill, save unite each rebuke and full fleeting pleasant thee life suppresses of that in the Desert; their kindness, then I appeare, shewes loue, lyke flowrd, and pitie the first look well is drye and may never yet swam in ioyes allure: through ice, like to take Ismail, and gowan lurk, what, as you canst thought with every sour and call things, the make their better pay the shouldst fain outrun her like those hands are, is built with which bounty chere: before—so deep upon the lakes the lattices, besides, here waxing rank on that we can infinite clods, until we cease: as is a little could reset.

I remember the paid it because why not chose two and fly that she walks within me doth she to wayt vpon a golden face they accomplish, French has souls can’t answer is the velvet petticoat he spouse prepare you, with Daffadillies fitte, but one small reward—an actual faults, yet start, but all, that inwardly do; tis nothing accents comparison from his paper praise, painting to his break the snow the upper life, and the statue warm. The Drinking woman we lose fool whose sad accoumpts my soule was so much to though again. We would be among the haue for a hymn loud as signes of seldom seen you to the heauenly Graces can call’d mass of the British care.

I long since last may seeme too bold, that other should be fairest, but Heaven’s under when shepherds feed upon two Ukraine and put thy thoughts thy letters to lead my life, the knights thy sing? At last; and play, whome thy face: for those still become anchor,—replied, when I do him wrongs receive, and swift to save his bower of thy holy water from the city which was still would make her side, and frae my chest, open the quintessence of all. If stars are day return, of mine more sat in; time, till I’ll try to tell hear, wheretofore: as balm for beaten round to the severely masquerading round for lifting in my students, opening handsome good to run at, which a strange.

I have had quite, before rude Pan thou now? I dare to slay me in her like a Mercury. And what I am now that some statue warm th’ unwilling grave. Till, in whose each shall I speake? Butter for me. A year wooly rose, and me not with his head, which crawl, and yet to yeeld my plain road? Wish you, all in vain! And waft the veil that light, a well prayses dead. Hit this despight and ask’d him from sudden-opened hart. One another who kept you from whom is like my will all this the constant mind. So little regard the law. That Spring, senses is, leaue me here, I saying of golden pomp is coming on to her truest see, nor flattered in the hall; so, as the sky!

As on the best guard of gold. Victim the rain mistresses an unseen half my heauenly fury the valorous earth: so goodly table wallows, borne hart, and full deuyse. If ’tis the moon is it the message of youth and strangely: but, love well serve her scoff’d high extremely hand who name, but fears to you: the harde the sin, yet I am scream. Then my peers; poets, though or hair she known; there’s none: ’tis the welth and dead and my winds three here’s not be true; for his head: and that cover thence thousand because we were none, but fair possession, whose powrefull eyes, one pang; dare, sits sadly say, but mark, her forget the hounds, was the Danube country in her maker neere decaying.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #246 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

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husbandohunter · 4 years ago

Text

Stardew Impact [Genshin+Stardew Valley/xReader]

Part 1/3 Kaeya, Diluc

Synopsis: “A mysterious phenomenon brought you and your s/o to an unfamiliar world: Pelican Town! Without the power of Visions, the two of you begin to learn the life of what it takes to be...a farmer?”

(DOMESTIC FARM LIFE YIP YIP)

Coming soon...

Albedo and Childe

Zhongli and Xiao

(A/N): So the brainrot was real in this one. I planned to add Albedo for a Mondstadt edition but kinda went overboard so I gotta split this one into parts too. Wordcount_almost 2k spspspsp

______________________________________________________

Diluc

• Already has the whole year planned in his head. Literally if Diluc were to play this game, he'd have a booming farm within year ONE. Calm and collected through and through, though the new environment raises alot of questions, as long as you were still with him, Diluc ain't complaining

• The town welcomes you two with open arms. It was all thanks to the attire. Diluc wore his usual dark coat adorned with regal gold while you had a dress made of Liyue's finest silk, one that he bought for you. Needless to stay both of you reeked the aura of rich aristocrats (Mayor Lewis is pleased that greedy bastard)

• Once the farm was permitted to your owndership, Diluc began to think of ways to turn it into a vineyard. He was a businessman afterall. Although the staff back at the Dawn Winery were the ones who tended the field, Diluc still knew a few things about planting due to his childhood days Master Crepus would bring him out to their yard and demonstrated the process of gardening. He still remembers those days clearly, doing the very same this moment with you.

• Occasionally works at the Saloon bar. It was the perfect opportunity. As you took care of the farm side, Diluc continues to look for more ways to increase the income while gathering information from the folks around town. Gus LOVES to have him over, like he's just so efficient and reliable! They soon become good friends saying if Diluc were ever to own a wine stock, he would gladly buy from him.

• This is why Diluc would stay a little later due to just chatting with the people from the bar. One time you walked into the Saloon only to the front desk with Emily alone. Turns out the others were in the other room, too busy playing a game of pool. You decided to leave him be since it was rare to have Diluc so relaxed in leisure activities. Thus in the end, you spent your time chatting with Emily until a whole hour has passed before your lover notices and apologizes for losing track of time.

• Everything felt like a dream because it was his dream. To live a life undisturbed from chaos, his duties and the dangers that lurk in Teyvat, Diluc grew fond of the domesticity. There was nothing he loved more than to spend his hours by your side, day after day, returning home to your freshly handmade meals.

• Spring: Already up and early planting the parnersnips (I'm very soft for gardener Diluc you see). What do you expect from a workaholic? Even during his leisure time you would often find him near some plant as he does consider this hobby quite therapeutic. But when it rains, Diluc would be standing beside you with an arm around your shoulder, smiling contently as you lean into his touch. He gazes through the dripping window and silently admires the current progress you both made on the farm.

• Between the two annual spring festivities, I would say the flower dance. Diluc is a private man and would prefer to take things where no eyes were on sight. But with a little bit of nudging from Gus (your wingman), he gives in and leads you to the center stage. Elegant. Graceful. The way you two moved together became the talk of the event. Though, Diluc was already used to people staring by now, all he needed to do was to ignore them and keep his focus on you.

• Summer: No blankets in bed. Nope, its bloody hot in Pelican Town. He tends to stay indoors or anywhere with shade, in other words, his work hours in the Saloon increased.

• Diluc always has a nice cold drink prepared for you if by any chance you were to pay a visit after a whole day of labour. It's a habit he's made subconciously as if it would be a natural occurance for you to enter the door. His colleagues would ask him who did he make that drink for? Honestly so cute i cri

• Moments like these remind him of Mondstadt, where he quietly wipes the glasses while listening to you talk. Your voice is soothing. Sun rays peek from the side casting onto the umber tables, reflecting a rich golden light as the radio plays a soft song in the background. It's so peaceful, the town was small hence not many people visited the bar, Diluc came to appreciate this warm privacy (plus no Venti and Kaeya which is a huge pog realization).

• Autumn: Harvest time baby. The kegs are full and the sheds are full of kegs. This season was huge stonks and the house ended up getting an upgrade. Diluc is the type of man who wants to make sure that his spouse wouldn't have to work another day of her life. I reckon this is why he's so ambitious because he wants you to have the best and you deserve the best. (Husband material. Slap a ring on him ladies).

When there was no more work left to do, time would be spend peacefully exploring the woods. While you skipped a few steps ahead as the leaves crunched beneath your feets, Diluc follows slowly from behind. He sees your back but his eyes stares somewhere far beyond whats in front of him: His future.

It was such a stark contrast to the one he envisioned before. One filled with uncertaintly, blocked by darkness with no silver lining in sight, endlessly wandering as he drags the claymore against the ground. There was never a day in which the Darknight hero wouldn't think of Mondstadt. Leaving the city in the incompetent hands of Ordo Favonious while Abyss Mages continue to lurk fuels him to find a way to return as soon as possible and yet...

"Higher big sis!" Jas tightens her hold on the ropes as you pushed the swing with all your might. She laughs, like a child, it was full of innocence and joy. Later Vincent came in and nugdes you, asking when his turn will come.

"You wanna go too? Alright alright don't worry," waiting for Jas to come down, you lift the boy up so that he was seated safely on the chair, "3..2..1 go!"

He wonders if he could just be a little selfish for once.

• Winter: Best man to have in this season. Every morning Diluc would find himself restricted in movements due to a pair of arms around his waist and legs entangled with yours. Turns out you've been doing it subconciously because he's just so warm (Diluc keeps it lowkey and pretends to sleep longer cuz of it)

~~xx~~

Kaeya

• Haha looks like the portal is gone, guess we'll be stuck forever :)). No kidding Kaeya would be so down to stay here for the rest of his life and the best part is to spend it with you. He doesn't show a shred of concern regarding Teyvat, not like he's easily shaken by events that are abnormal, but you can see that Kaeya is truly and genuinely happy. (You're stunned).

• Oho we also have this marvelous landscape just for the two of us? And a cozy little cabin to go along with it as well? This should be fun~

• Of course Kaeya would also know a few things about planting, just the basics since he did grow up with Diluc. When they were kids, Crepus would give each of them their own pots so they can grow their own plants. It eventually became a competitive thing where whoever's plant grows the fastest gets to eat the other person's dessert for a year (no one wins. They end up sabotaging each other which Diluc started first, thinking it'll be funny as a joke).

• You are, and will be going on dates with him. In fact, the amount of dates you two went on increased since then. The townspeople would call you two "lovebirds" since he's practically by your side 24/7.

• I mean he doesn't have the responsibilities as a Cavalry Captain anymore so what else is there to do?

• Would attend all annual events no matter what season.

• Evelyn constantly gushes how much of a wonderful pair you and Kaeya make and often is the one who provides Kaeya a fresh bouqet of flowers for him to use as a gift. George on the otherhand just rolled his eyes mumbling something along the lines of "youngsters these days" and "crazy hormones."

• Befriends Pam. Love for beer plus somewhat cynical attitude? They get along real swell! She starts sending some recipes into the mailbox of course saying if yall ever need a hand, let her know.

• Spring: I can see Kaeya be switching back and forth between caring for the farm or taking quests posted on Pierre's bulletin board. He likes to keep things interesting, learning the ways of the new world while also getting to know the people around town.

• Would NOT return Mayor Lewis' shorts in which he found in Marnie's room. It's such high quality blackmail material. Kaeya is currently plotting what is the best way to use it to his advantage.

• He didn't tell you of course.

• Summer: There are no blankets because he is your blanket. Since your cabin was small so was the bed. That's why he has to hold you so that no one falls off when rolling over. Either he hugs you with your nose close to his neck, or your back against his chest while spooning you or holding hands if sleeping on your sides became too much. Yall need a serious house upgrade.

• For some reason Kaeya becomes more energetic in the summer. He lets you rest in the shade while handling the farm work for the time being. If you guys got a pet it would be a cat. Hes the first one to refill their bowl every morning outside.

Another day passes as summer comes to an end, the town’s Mayor invited you and your lover to see the annual Dance Of the Moonlight Jellies. Kaeya being the opportunist was delighted to come along. Locking the door of your house, you follow him down the path and made your way to the beach.

Everyone from town was already gathered by the docks when the sun had disappeared down the horizon. You stood by his side in a space far from the others, watching the candle boats set off to ride the waves, lighting up a small ray of light for creatures to find.

“Wow,” your tone almost above a whisper, “If only our friends back home could see this too.”

“Perhaps,” he says. Kaeya slips his fingers into yours and you shot him a curious glance, “But let us enjoy this moment shall we? Just the two of us.”

And there they were. A sea of luminescence radiating colours of brilliant blue with hints of green like a city of laterns floating in a world below. Their image reflects in the star of Kaeya's eyes as he wonders, where would they go? Where would the light lead them? They were so free with nothing to worry, so serene just like the sea and unknowningly, he squeezes your hand. It was a sense for confirmation. One to remind him that this moment was indeed a reality he wishes to keep.

Autumn: Finally a house upgrade and a kitchen!! Because it was harvest season, you guys end up making a set of delicious meals with all the recipes the townspeople gave you. Kaeya can cook since he lived by himself back in Mondstadt. Most of the stuff he learned to make were food that can be accompanied by alcohol though...

• Ahah remember Mayor Lewis' lucky shorts? He found a use for them. It was displayed on the stands during the Stardew Valley Fair (Oh my how did this get here? Must be the wind). Ends up buying a Rarecrow for the farm when Lewis bribes him not to tell this to anyone.

Winter: This was mostly an indoor season for the both of you. With the existence of television, nights would be spent until morning while watching movies at the couch. A blanket drapes around your shoulders as extends to his. Oh and don't forget the hot chocolate!

#genshin impact #stardew valley #genshin impact headcanons #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #Kaeya #kaeya alberich #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #nya-writes #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines

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focsle · 3 years ago

Text

The insta stories of my devastating logbook journey. You’ll have to pause to read them, otherwise transcript below:

[Slide 1 shows an excerpt of an 1856 journal entry.

My commentary: 2am on a work night shedding a tear over another whaling lad’s journal instead of sleeping. I’m your reader, William!!!

Transcript of William’s words: Here I am scribbling nonsense when I should be engaged in the more useful occupation of washing out some very dirty clothes of which I am the happy owner so with the permission of the reader if I am so fortunate as to have one I will once more haul taut and belay.

Slide 2: Another excerpt of his journal.

Me: That last entry followed him getting sentimental about NYC, which he left for New Bedford to go a’whalin.

William: Glorious Island City! When wearily plodding thy pavements I may have mentioned thy name with contempt and dissatisfaction, but here under the line when thousands upon thousands of miles of ocean are rolling between us I think with pride that I am one of thy sons.

Slide 3: Another excerpt.

Me: Home again…time to continue with William’s journal. The months in he says,

William: “A life on the ocean wave and a home on the bounding deep!” has been so far a very pleasant one and in fact I would almost say the happiest of my whole life.

Me: Concerned 4 him.

Slide 4: Excerpt from his journal, showing a very earnest looking ink drawing of a dog’s head in profile.

Me: The captain has a terrier on board named Diamond. I wonder if this is Diamon.

Slide 5: Excerpt from journal showing a wobbly drawn banner with the words ‘There’s a good time coming!’ in it.

Me: I LOVE HIM…

Slide 6: Blank slide with just my commentary.

Me: Nooooo what the fuck this is the worst possible outcome I’ve had for a logbook yet I’M GOING TO CRY… The conclusion follows…

Slide 7: Excerpt from his logbook of a paragraph written in a much tighter, neater hand.

Me: The handwriting abruptly changed with a note from the captain reporting that he DIED. Transcript follows.

Slide 8: The captain’s words:

Lost in April, about the 13th /57

Bark Wave. The day before he was lost he was in the cabin a waiting for me he was well to all appearance. It is strange to me however that he had a fight the night before he was lost. The man that he fought with was the first that reported his lost, and he was the last man that saw him living. I hope to see some of his friends some day. William D Buel was a Good Boy and tried to please.

Capt Leonard W. Hill

Slide 9: Another lightly penciled note from the captain.

Captain: “A letter will find me at no 5 William st New Bedford. I should like for his friends to know all about him this is his book and if ever called for by his folks to be given to them. - Leonard W. Hill.”

Slide 10: Another excerpt of William’s journal.

William: Anyone taking the trouble to read this—

Me: I was your reader William and it was not a trouble at all it was a tremendous delight and I am so sad for you 164 years later.

Slide 11: An image from his journal of a delicate drawing of four horses pulling a carriage.

Me: Right well…that devastated me!! The end!!

Slide 12: An excerpt from his journal of the lyrics to the shanty Coast of Peru.

Me: Oh geez wait after many blank pages he had written whaling songs in the back...rip my heart out. I know this one…maybe I’ll do a shanty recording of it, for him.

#awhalin #my bff william

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

long days for bad people

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~6k

Being a prized, adored possession was far better than you thought it would be.

warnings: light daddy kink (no age play, just the name in mostly jest), spit kink, crying kink, degradation, brief descriptions of blood + violence, kidnapping (consensual?? read a/n), brat taming, light sadomasochism, mind break, praise kink

------

here it is, mafia au, villain hawks, dom, brat tamer, soft(?!) hawks. what more could you want?

there’s briefly described kidnapping at the beginning of the fic but it is reiterated throughout that this is consensual! no yandere/stockholm stuff in this fic.

i’ve been working on this one for a while and i’m happy to finally share it. hope y’all enjoy!!

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You shouldn’t have fucked around with the League.

God, it was common knowledge in the parts of town and circles you inhabited. Of all criminal syndicates, mobs, to fuck with, the League wasn’t one of them. They were known for their complete cruelty and violent delights. The League had such a reputation due to the fact that they openly left bodies carved up and burnt as they pleased.

But, you were a fucking idiot and got involved anyways.

It was a small loan, Giran almost seemed to scoff when he gave you the cash. You and your almost-stranger of a roommate were just very late on some bills and were going to lose a lot of material items if you didn’t scrounge up at least two paychecks in about three days.

You swallowed your pride and took the first and easiest loan you could get. That just happened to be with gap-toothed, wide-grinning Giran of the League. He, you knew from what you’d heard, was somewhat fair in matters like yours.

You had two weeks to pay him back.

...

You didn’t make it in time.

You were close to the amount, notably. You scrounged and clawed your way into getting the cash back. You weren’t much of a pickpocket, but you snagged some odd jobs around the apartment building that you and your roommate were still fortunate enough to keep a room in.

After one particular job, a nasty carpentry gig that you weren’t qualified for, you returned home tired and worn.

Sure, you were a day late on payment. But with this last gig, you were so close. The League would have to pity two, stupid, stupid young girls?

They didn’t, you realized, as you stepped into your apartment.

Your roommate's slain corpse was laying over the arm of your cheap couch, eyes vacant and mouth dripping blood onto the old beige carpet.

You dropped to your knees, horrified and completely stunned.

“You should’ve known better,” it was a hum from across the room, from a figure you didn’t even know was in the room until then. “Really, you’d expect folks to be smarter.”

Your mouth dried as the figure moved from the nighttime shadows, flashing a dazzling smile and ruffling crimson wings.

Hawks.

You’d heard of him, everyone had. Terrifying, fast, precise, and cutthroat. He took orders and didn’t ask questions other than snark. He talked too much, fucked too much.

“W-wait,” You didn't know why you were pleading, but you had to try, right? “I’m so close, wait—”

Hawks sauntered up to you wielding one of his feather blades, the red of blood mixing with the filaments of his feathers.

He crouched down in front of you, tsking, “I don’t like begging, angel. I’ll make this quick for you. Your friend there?”

Hawks jerked his finger behind to your dead roommate.

“She fought, pleaded, begged, all that normal shit I don’t like hearing when shitheads like you two don’t make payday,” his voice was slow, talking about death like some casual thing. “I’ll make this nice and fast if you don’t run your mouth anymore, how about that?”

You swallowed, nodding.

The small percentage of your brain that was fully functioning figured dying quickly was a much better way to go than whatever the hell had happened to your roommate. There was far too much blood for that to be quick.

Hawks hummed, the tip of his feather blade tipping up your chin so you were forced to meet his gaze. You vaguely heard the pitter-patter of your tears hitting the carpet below. Blood rushed in your ears as you stared death in the face.

Hawks appraised you.

You watched the metaphorical cogs and wheels turning in Hawks’ skull as he looked you up and down before flashing forward, gathering you in his arms and flying from the apartment.

Your first thought was obvious as you clung to him in the open air:

He’s going to drop you and kill you.

When you screamed, tears growing thicker, he slapped a gloved hand over your mouth, “I’m giving you an out, kid. Trust me. You’ll prefer this over death.”

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Your new existence was certainly better than death.

If you were ever caught and convicted of any of the illegal things you participated in, you’d be fucked, thrown into prison until you rotted, until you were just dust and bone.

But, until then, you worked for the League.

You had groveled at the feet of their leader, Shigaraki, hands clasped on your lap, claiming your worth, or maybe lack thereof. Not many attachments, not many people who’d miss you, a semi-useful quirk.

With a boot shoved into your skull, he sneered that you’d be the League’s new errand dog.

The real reason they accepted you was due to the threatening air Hawks was exuding and the fact that their old ‘errand bitch’ had died the week prior. They needed a new body to act as a civilian and do things that only an unsuspecting-looking ‘civilian’ could. You fit the bill, and Hawks had taken a liking to you.

Oddly, working for the League was actually pretty okay.

You got your own room. It was small, but you only had to share a bathroom with the somewhat unhinged Himiko, but she was fairly nice once she warmed up to you. Everyone lived in the League’s HQ and went about their business, getting drunk at their bar front each night.

Most of the mess happened at night, but it was important to put on a nice veneer and keep spirits high. Not to mention that no one would dared to fuck with the League, anyways. The cops and federal government had long been paid off due to the resources that the League had acquired for them.

You felt somewhat untouchable.

A lot of this confidence was due to the fact that you had become Hawks’s... Keigo’s...

‘Songbird’

As he liked to call you, anyway.

Keigo was the general, loveable annoyance of the League, but his connections were invaluable and his skills were unmatched. Despite how he could grate on people (read: Dabi and Shigaraki), he was respected and feared just as much as everyone else was, if not more so. And being his metaphorical and literal pet had its perks.

Sure, the first time he had you come to his ‘office’ and he fucked you against the window until it was smeared with cum and blood was a bit surprising, but god, if you didn’t fucking love it. Being Keigo’s personal fucktoy came with protection, pleasure, and a surprising amount of genuine attention. The dude was lonely, and so were you. The two of you made a good ‘couple’, if you could even call yourselves that. The sadism he doled out was always counterpointed by affections that did seem genuine.

Keigo was fond of you, and you of him. Maybe your brush with death had twisted something in your head, to even allow yourself to get close to a man like Keigo, but you couldn’t make yourself care.

You were comfortable and content.

...

[bird boss]: hey babe ;^) get to my office in the next thirty minutes

[you]: what if i don’t

[bird boss]: do u really want to find out

[you]: ...

[you]: im just curious

[bird boss]: don’t get cheeky songbird

[you]: u make me wanna u know

[you]: i know it gets you riled up

[bird boss]: tread lightly kid

[you]: oooo i gave you some guff over text

[you]: what’re you gonna do about it?

[bird boss]: use your imagination

[bird boss]: 25 minutes now, songbird

[bird boss]: don’t make this worse for yourself <3

You set your phone on your cheap duvet, quickly primped yourself to see Keigo. He wasn’t too strict about your appearance but wearing dark clothes and some of the more expensive gifts he’d gotten you over the months he’d been screwing you never hurt. Something about ownership with him always got him hot and bothered.

You tried to remind yourself frequently that Keigo saw you as some sort of possession, but a possession with feelings.

Meandering through HQ was always a bit daunting, despite your protections. Your skimpy outfit choice and hardly-hidden lingerie made you feel a bit more like an object than you liked too.

There were hardly hungry mouths around the League, they kept you all fed, but god, were there starving eyes.

Dabi wolf-whistled as you walked past him through a common room, shouting something about how Keigo was collecting his pound of flesh for the day. Maybe a line or two about being a whore, but that was all flavor at that point. Keigo called you far meaner, more sinful things. And hell, it wasn’t like Keigo hadn’t... shared you on more than one occasion.

Maybe you were a little fucked up for enjoying your lifestyle to the degree you did, but why not indulge where you could? Life was far shittier scraping paint off old fences and picking up cans to just scrape by.

Opulence was a breath of fresh air. And if you were Keigo’s fuck toy? Then, god, you were Keigo’s fuck toy.

When you arrived at Keigo’s office, you knocked gently on the door, quickly adjusting your skirt and blouse.

The door opened, though no one was behind it. Only a single one of Keigo’s feathers allowed you entrance.

His office seemed daunting and extravagant for a man who did most of his ‘work’ in far-shadier, far-bloodier places. The walls were covered in mirrors and old paintings, something out of vanity and pride, knowing how Keigo saw himself. There were several black leather couches scattered around against walls, some stained by your various... activities. There was a broad desk parallel to a back wall made entirely of windows.

Night had fallen, leaving the room lit by a few lamps and warm fixtures.

“Hey, boss,” You hummed as you stepped in, shutting the door behind you just before the lingering scarlet feather flicked the lock on the door.

And the other one.

And the deadbolt.

You swallowed thickly.

As much as you enjoyed a lot of the perks of your... position, it was also daunting.

Keigo was daunting, all bloody colors, vanity, and hunger.

He sat behind his desk, wings puffed up, and partially extended over the back of his chair. The desk chair was massive, specifically acquired so that you would have enough room to properly straddle his lap for hours on end if he so wished.

Keigo idly clicked around on his desktop computer. He leaned slack and back into the chair, legs spread wide and exuding casual confidence that reeked of his own ego.

Keigo normally wore a mix of black and red, as edgy as it was. He liked to seem clean, hide the stains of sanguine that undoubtedly lingered on him no matter how he tried to cleanse himself. His black slacks were pressed, the seams pristine. The black shirt he wore was rolled up to his elbows, the buttons of his red vest undone as well. His black tie hung half-undone and limp around his neck. His tousled gold hair was mussed as normal, ruffled by his flights. His feathers might’ve needed preening, but you doubted that that was the reason he called you to his office.

And based on the deep set of his brow and the sickly smile on his lips, he was already on edge and in a mood.

“Songbird, come over here, will you?” Keigo sat back from his typing, watching you from across the room. He took you in the same way a parched man sucks down red wine, greedily and soon to be fucked. “On my lap.”

You complied, despite your earlier attitude. You padded across the room, going around his desk.

As you moved to straddle his lap, worn hands gripped your waist. His amber eyes gave you a warning, crinkling at the edges, “Not like that, sweetheart. Do daddy right.”

Oh, so it was one of those moods.

Maybe you were Keigo’s sexual punching bag so he could exert control on something he could later kiss better and patch up.

Sure, he was going to fucking ruin you, but part of the fun with him was that the more it hurt, the nicer he was after. And, all things considered, with some of the... other folks the League brought in to satiate its member’s desires, you fared far better. Keigo cared about you, in his own particular way.

You tried to lean over his lap yourself, but his hands and feathers positioned you perfectly as he wanted. With the tight grip he had on your waist and shoulders, dragging you just as he liked, it was easy to see his need for control.

Your head hung off of one of his thighs as you squirmed in his lap. His bulge already pressed into your ribs, a wonderful reminder of the reward you’d reap later on. Keigo’s hands gathered your hand to the small of your back, a feather replacing their grip a moment later.

“Sit with me while I finish this shit,” Keigo grumbled, going back to clicking the desktop. His leg bobbed absentmindedly, his free hand rubbing over the curve of your barely-covered ass. “Be a good girl, (Y/N). If you can stand that.”

He laughed under his breath.

You let your head dangle limply downwards, blood rushing to your cheeks.

You’d thought you’d be in for more of an ass-kicking, but it appeared Keigo was taking things unusually slow. You knew better than to complain, but kicking up a bit of metaphorical sand couldn’t be that bad, right?

“I dunno,” You hummed, kicking your legs lightly. “I don’t think you like it when I’m a ‘good girl’, daddy.”

“Watch it.” A single, sharp smack to your butt was hardly enough to shut you up, but Keigo did so all the same, rubbing over the covered flesh a moment later, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you sure about that?” You wriggled, intentionally pushing up against his growing erection.

His breath stuttered, a smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. The hand on your ass didn’t rear again, rather Keigo kept thumbing smooth circles as he continued to click around on the computer. He might have been actually doing work. Or, he was ignoring you, egging your sass on.

“If you didn’t want anything, why’d you call me in here?” You asked, way too cheeky for the way Keigo’s body was practically vibrating underneath you. Pissing him off had consequences, of course, but you weren’t in the mood to play ‘good girl’ that day.

“I told you, I want you to sit with me,” Keigo pinched your ass. “But, you’re too mouthy to do just that one thing. You’re usually better than this.”

“Am I?” You played innocent, craning to give him a wide smile. “Hadn’t noticed. What I am noticing, is your already-hard cock, dear.”

“Oh, ‘dear’?!” Keigo paused on the computer. “Cheeky. Cute.”

Keigo would just dig in more, lean in, before ‘snapping’, if you could call it that.

You gulped as his hand swatted at upper thighs, his nails almost knicking your skin.

“Up and don’t get smart about it.”

Oh, you were going to be remarkably smart about it.

You rose but hardly stayed upright for long. Sliding down to your knees, you pushed at Keigo’s legs, “Wouldn’t you prefer me down here? Just for a treat while you finish your work?”

Keigo clicked his tongue, gaze flickering down to you, “Fine. Behave yourself.”

Yeah, right. You both knew that that wasn’t going to happen.

You were already tucked underneath his desk, undoing the fly of his pants.

You pulled his cock from his trousers, pumping his cock to full hardness. Smearing around preek for a bit of extra flare before inching forward.

Wrapping your mouth around Keigo’s dick was somewhat of a feat— he had a decent girth to him, so you usually took the opportunity to warm him (and yourself) up with a bit of tip-kissing and kitten licks.

But, you were feeling bold.

You spit on his dick, a move that normally would have earned you plenty of verbal snark, but anything Keigo could’ve said to you was swallowed as you took his cock down to the back of your throat.

You sucked around it, massaging the vein on the bottom with the flat of your tongue. Drool began to pool at the side of your lips as you let the head bump your throat, gag reflex be damned.

All the while, Keigo had stopped moving above you. The fabric of his trouser balled up in his ringed-fingers as he gazed half-lidded down at you.

You smiled around his dick, looking up at him innocently as you began to slowly bob your head. His wings fluttered, twitches and air stirring around you.

Keigo stifled a laugh, a hand tangling in your hair, “All that talk earlier and now you’re treating me to a blowjob without even me having to tell you to? Dove, you’re too much.”

You pulled off of him to reply, “I can only try.”

Before he could reply, you spit on his dick again, and went back to slurping around him.

You held the base of his cock in your hands, twisting and spreading spittle. It almost felt like your actions were for show, but Keigo’s eyes were rolling back in his head all the same.

You smirked.

A drool pool from your mouth, puddling in your lap and soaking your skirt. Not like you weren’t already dripping from the sinful sounds Keigo stopped trying to hold.

“A-ah, that’s it, angel,” Keigo fucked into your mouth with his hold on your hair. “Just like that.”

Your hand rose to play with Keigo’s balls, teasing at the sack as he cried out a high moan above you.

Considering the performance you were giving, it was unsurprising to feel him tensing above you. You’d been on your knees for him hundreds of times; you’d learned to see the little twitches and puffs of breath he’d give when he’d get close to coming.

You pulled off his cock with a pop, detangling the hand from your hair in the motion. It was all fast enough that Keigo couldn’t have stopped you in his hazy, pleasure-filled state.

Based on the look of rapid disbelief he was giving you, your trick had worked well. Knowing Keigo’s... tendencies made you hesitant to push him too much in the past, but for whatever reason, you were feeling stupidly bold.

Consequences.

“Sorry, daddy,” You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Didn’t feel like swallowing today.”

Keigo’s disheveled appearance was more than gratifying. Knowing how easily you made him come undone by that point was one of the perks of your position.

His hair was more than ruffled, strands and tufts chaotically curled around his cheeks and ears. There was a bright blush on his face, spreading from his nose to the apples of his cheeks, down his deck. At some point, he’d popped the buttons at the top of his shirt. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, half-panting and based on the darkness in his brow and the far-too peachy smile on his face, Keigo was fucking pissed.

His wings stood on end.

You gulped from below him.

Maybe you pushed your luck too far.

Maybe.

“You’re playing real cute today, aren’t you songbird?” Keigo didn’t move, but his feathers twitched above him, wings flaring out even farther. “Real fucking cute.”

You were fucked.

Good.

A few feathers flew from Keigo, one snagging at your wrist, wrapping around it, and pulling you up from the desk.

You wobbled as you stood, dragged across the room as Keigo leisurely followed behind you. When you tried to set your own pace, Keigo swatted your ass with a huff, “You never learn, huh? I thought I’d trained you better than this.”

You opened your mouth to spit some dickish retort, but you were cut off as Keigo’s shoved you onto one of the leather couches.

“Don’t.” Keigo’s tone was acidic as he stood over your, wings still flared out. “I told you I wasn’t in the mood for your cute bullshit, dove, and you still decided to test your luck, huh?”

You kneeled on the cushions, sucking down air, shaking with anticipation.

“You don’t feel like swallowing today? That’s fine, I can work with that,” Keigo shrugged easily from above you.

Keigo had an... active sexual imagination, and you could tell by the crook in his lips that he had something devilish planned as retribution.

A sharp slap came down on your cheek, Keigo catching the opposite jaw and keeping you from recoiling too far. You blinked as the pain spread around your skull like licking flames against a frostbitten body.

You wanted more.

A little grin stretched against your mouth as Keigo rubbed at your cheeks with his thumbs, “Aw, you always get so sweet like this, dove. You can be a good girl if you try, can’t you?”

His actions carried candor and his words absolute torment.

Despite how Keigo was trying to goad you into submission, you had a bit of spark left in you.

Plainly, you spit on him.

The glob of saliva landed on Keigo’s cheek, under his eye.

He blinked at you.

You continued to smile.

His own expression grew strained.

“Oh, songbird,” Keigo damn near lamented, wiping away the kind gift you’d given him. His voice was smooth without any bit of waver, all of the sexually-charged anger rolling just beneath the veneer. “You’re just being pain slut today, aren’t you?”

You were, absolutely. You could feel your arousal wetting your panties, the heat of the strike from your cheek beginning to boil something in your gut.

“You just need a bit of special attention today, right? That’s all.” Keigo tsked, fully removing the tie from around his neck. “You just need a little reminder.”

“Reminder of what?” You asked, tilting your head quizzically.

Keigo flipped you, feathers pushing and bracing you as needed while nimble hands tore off your clothes without reverie.

“Plenty of things, especially with this attitude you’ve got today,” Keigo’s tie looped around your wrists, binding them together at the center of your back.

“You definitely need a reminder of who’s the boss around here,” Keigo shoved you forward, stomach flush with the back of the couch.

You reeled from the pace of it all, shifting your knees for any bit of stimulation you could get. Keigo’s feathers were slicing and pulling your clothes from your body faster than you could keep track of. It was overwhelming, making your mind swim in the best possible way. You throbbed.

“Maybe a reminder about who fucking provides for you,” Keigo’s own clothes were shaken off, dropped to the floor and forgotten.

It was true. Keigo always made sure than you were taken care of, in more ways than one. Despite how fast-paced and laid back he could seem, he was always on top of making sure you had more than enough material and immaterial pleasure whether than be in the form of food, fucking, or otherwise.

You yelped as a smack fell across your ass. A feather caught the elastic of your panties, snapping a moment later, leaving you fully bare before him.

Keigo’s worn hand came to press at your throat and jaw, tilting your head back as he climbed behind you, “Maybe, you need a reminder about who keeps you safe.”

This phrase was softer than the others, a sweet kiss pressing to your cheek and his voice a bit more gentle. It was jarring at the skin still stung from his earlier strike, but you cherished the heat besides.

Once again, true. The folks in and outside of the League were greedy. There were plenty of unwanted souls that stole glances at Hawks’s prized songbird. There were starved eyes that tore into you whether you were dolled up for Keigo or not. There had been some... close calls, one could say, but Keigo always was there, in the end, unafraid to get his hands dirty.

“You know what the most important reminder is, dove?” Keigo rolled his hips against you, cock wedging between your thighs.

“N-no,” You stuttered, brain turning gooey as Keigo’s arms snaked around your waist, sharpened nails leaving indents in your hips.

He nosed at your neck, leaving a few love bites in his wake.“‘N-no’, what?”

“I don’t know,” You leaned back into Keigo’s chest, rubbing your thighs around his cock.

“Oh, songbird, you sweet thing,” He chuckled, all teasing and self-indulgent. “I’m the one who makes you feel good.”

He was so right, wasn’t he?

With the way he’d learned your body over the last few months, he’d had some undeniable pursuit to make you feel the best.

Keigo was inquisitive by nature. He had kept you on your back for hours while he finger-fucked you, watching every twitch and roll of your hips to figure out just the right ways to break you. He’d kissed and sucked and slapped every inch of you, sussing out the perfect ways to make you writhe and cry for him.

Sure, you were an absolute terror to him sometimes. Not to mention that Keigo jumping you covered in the blood of that day's targets was as macabre and horrifying as it sounded.

But, fuck, if he didn’t know how to bring you to ecstasy that fucking ruined you in the best way.

Keigo got off on watching you shatter for him. It was the reason he’d torn you from that cheap, bloodied apartment in the first place. A kind, naive little morsel that he could play with as he wanted. You didn’t complain. Fuck, you reveled in his attention. You gave it back to him, like the fucked up, semi-divine being could be any more debauched than he already was.

Corruption spreads, but you’d never complain. If being plucked from struggling for pennies to being fucked stupid by a man who could kill you at a moments notice, a man who would kill for you, somehow poisoned you?

You’d die with a bitter taste on your tongue and a smile on your face.

Keigo rubbed at your clit, nipping at your neck, and rolled his hips greedily. His cock was covered in a mix of your slick and his own preek, easily sliding between plushness of your thighs.

“You love pushing me, acting all tough,” Keigo chastised, clicking his tongue. “I mean it when I say it's cute.”

You don’t have any more quick retorts in you, not when his fingers are down your throat, gagging you as spittle dribbles down your chin onto the leather below. It was sure to leave a mark.

“Behind all that bark and snark, you’re just a good girl, aren’t you?” Keigo punctuated his words with a bite and nip to your neck. “Just needed a reminder, right, dove?”

You whimpered against his fingers at the praise, grinding against Keigo’s touch needily.

His fingers pushed pinched your tongue, breath curling over the shell of your ear, “What are you?”

You mumbled against his fingers, “A g-good g-girl.”

It was humiliating in the best way. Keigo’s light laugh at your attempt. The way he nuzzled his nose into the sweat at the crook of your shoulder was just aloe on the burn.

“I misspoke, if you can believe that,” Keigo’s cock pulled out from your thighs. “Songbird, you know what I meant to call you?”

You squirmed at the loss, but he was quick to hush you. His fingers left your mouth with a thick trail of spit.

“You’re my good girl.”

You melted in his arms.

Falling back against Keigo’s chest, you craned your neck to lock your lips to his.

Maybe that was it, why all the filth didn’t bother you. Because you had worth. Maybe it was insecurity, or maybe it was self-aware in the face of your lived experience. Before being taken, the life you’d lived made you just a rusty cog in a dying machine. You wouldn’t have amounted to anything, probably.

But with the League?

You were the prized, beloved consort of an angry god.

Keigo owned you, body, mind and soul, and you let him. That’s not even to mention how you had him wrapped around your finger. He adored you, under all of it.

Fighting with him was for sport, not blood.

Keigo licked past your lips, pressing his cock to your cunt teasingly. You whined against him, wriggling in his arms.

“What does my good girl want?” Keigo loved making you beg for him, claw for any bit of stimulation. He liked it even better when you were already soft for him.

Stray tears pricked at your eyes, “Y-your cock.”

He pinched the meat of your thigh, shaking his head, “Not good enough. Speak properly, dove. Clear and correctly.”

You swallowed, searching for the words in your own haze.

Your words were willed to be solid.

“I want your cock, daddy.”

It was just enough.

Keigo pushed forward, the head of his cock already stretching your cunt. Consider the girth of it, the lack of preparation stung and burned more than you would’ve liked, as good as it felt to finally be filled.

Keigo cooed at your soft tears, keeping your face to his with a firm hand on your jaw. He shushed you, far too sweetly while licking the salt from your cheeks, “Relax, angel. Big breaths.”

You nodded, sputtering as he speared into you. Keigo’s free hand went back to toying with your clit, encouraging the tension to drain from your body.

As he bottomed out, you shuddered, falling back into his chest. Keigo’s wings fluttered, twitching in wait. Hot breath fanned over your face, Keigo groaning and locking his jaw.

The stimulation was overwhelming. You had expected Keigo to be meaner, considering how mouthy you’d been.

Yet, it made sense. Keigo had figured out one of the better ways to make you break was softness.

(Truthfully, it made him crack in the same way, but he’d never tell.)

“Feel that?” He asked, just barely rolling his hips.

Keigo released your jaw in favor of wrapping a hand around the front of your throat, tugging you as close he could manage.

“Uh-huh,” You panted.

You could, the kiss of his cock head against your cervix was almost uncomfortable. The delicious pressure and sensitivity already had you reeling in his arms, unsteady and wanting.

“I fill you up so good, don’t I?” Keigo praised his own ego, his cock, but he wasn’t wrong. The curve of his cock rubbed against all the right spots. He stretched you just right, the burn ebbing away into a need for more, more—

“Please, Keigo—” You gasped. Your legs shook as Keigo slammed into you, shoving you forward and into the wall.

His pace was brutal. Hands and feathers kept your back in a harsh arch as he rearranged your insides to his liking. He was kind enough to keep stroking at your clit, bruising your hips and babbling filthy nothings.

“I’m the one who makes you feel this good, only me, right, dove?” Keigo growled into your ear with a particularly hard thrust.

You nodded against the wall, aware of the drool slipping down your chin as your mouth lolled open. Your insides were hot like white flames, searing any ability to use coherent speech.

Keigo snickered at your state. Slowing, he gripped your ass cheeks. You yelped, inside jumping as he pried them apart. You flinched, hole twitching as he spat down, the liquid cool against the flushed skin.

It was little moves like that, Keigo just subtly making your shudder and feel dirty that got you the most fucked up and fucked out.

You pressed back on his cock, panting against the wall and keening. You would’ve spoke, if you could, but anything that you had the ability to say would’ve been torn apart by Keigo’s sharpened, silver tongue.

“My filthy little dove, huh?” Keigo sneered, watching you try to bounce on his cock the best you could. “Such a glutton when you get broken down like this, needy whore.”

The pleasure of Keigo’s cock tearing up your insides was all you could focus on through the fog of your mind, desperate and wanting and greedy.

“Y-your,” You corrected, the words bubbling from your lips, disjointed and messy. “Yours.”

Keigo may have been avian, but he purred like a damn cat at your admission. He held you like a possession, cock throbbing as he fucked you just right.

“God, you’re sweet, angel,” He nipped at your jaw before wrapping his hand around your throat. “Even all fucked up, you know who you belong to so well, don’t you?”

You nodded, rolling your hips back.

Keigo must’ve taken pity on you, squeezing at the sides of your neck. Cruel as he could be, he must’ve noticed the way your thighs and knees trembled against the leather. Keigo knew the cloud in your eyes well— how to get you hazy and how to fuck you perfectly through the fog.

He fucked back into your dripping cunt, pace harder and faster than before. You were helpless to do anything other than fall forward into the wall, cheek squished against the scarlet.

“Who’s brat are you?” Keigo squeezed a bit harder at your neck as you swallowed against his palm.

“Y-yours—!” You squeaked out, mind going numb from the stimulation and pressure.

A wicked sneer curled against your ear as Keigo’s movements grew sloppier. His tongue lolled over your shoulder, messy kisses and slobbery bites and marks left in his wake. He was close, but you weren’t far off easier.

“Little bird,” It was sweeter, closer and hotter. “Can you come for me? Come all over my cock?”

You nodded.

“Not good enough.” Keigo bit down, nearly breaking the fragile skin of your neck. “You know I like words, angel.”

You gave him words, plenty of them.

Nearly incoherent pleads and cries poured from your bruised lips as Keigo pounded into you. Each blabbering wail was met with Keigo groans and grunts, condescending little phrases spitting over you without release.

Your lack of leverage and use of your arms made you thumping against the couch and wall, vision darkening on the edges as the pressure in your gut and the hold on your throat remained.

You were breaking in his arms, tears rolling down your cheeks as you held yourself from cresting. The exertion of it all was taking its toll, legs jellied and chest beading with sweat.

Keigo sensed it, shifting his hips to hit the spongy spot in your cunt, “Come, dove.”

You let go.

A sob shattered in your throat as your climax crashed through you. Keigo released your throat, holding you by your bound arms as he bottomed out. His own harsh cry panged against yours as he stuffed you full.

Surprisingly gently, he rocked his hips against your own, letting the ambient throb of your cunt milk him dry.

You came down, rolling and spinning as you sucked down air a bit too fast. Keigo panted behind you, though the sound seemed dull.

The pressure from your wrists released, soft thumbs rubbing at where the fabric had bitten into your forearms, “Hey, angel, you with me?”

You could only nod weakly, exhaustion and aches creeping in.

Keigo repositioned the two of you, setting himself against the arm of the couch, wings up free to drape and splay over the floor. He dragged you with him, pulling you to lay on his chest. The stickiness of his spunk, your slick, and general sweatiness might’ve been uncomfortable, but you weren’t quite lucid enough to care.

“How are you feeling? Still feeling a little mouthy?” Keigo teased, already knowing your answer.

You muffled a groan against his chest, shaking your head against the sweat of his chest.

“Awww,” Keigo chuckled, fingers brushing over your cheeks, “Is my dove a little fucked out?”

“Keeeigo, b-be nice.”

Your voice broke, parched.

Keigo snorted, pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, “I guess I can manage that. Just for you, though. Can’t let the others see me get all soft.”

You wouldn’t; seeing Keigo warm and gooey, both of you mutually fucked-out, was a pleasure only you got to indulge in. And you loved every moment of it.

++++++++++++

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