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gr00vyminibus · 2 years ago

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𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Izogie x Black fem reader —

— Even if you thought Izogie was unbearable, your body always disagreed. Or, a tangible love between the two of you blooms on your father's farm.

will include; reader being stub-BORN, izogie is a clown, your clown though, reader claims they dont like Izogie, bad. Heavy on, betrayal of emotions, smut, watching a person masturbate, fingering (mostly to themselves), clit play, first time, and fluff at the end.

“How are you and my daughter getting along?” Your father smiles at Izogie.

“Quite fine, does she speak of me?” She flashes a smile back shaking her wet hands off. Your father does little chuckle.

“She says you annoy her greatly”

“She has no humour! all I do is tease her” Izogie can feel a playful side-eye directed to her.

“Can you go see if she's done with that half acre of corn, I also need some water” Izogie nods and brings a metal bucket out with her on the path of a sparkly river. She cuts through the the plants and hears a soft melody in the distance. Instantly assuming that it comes from you. Her hands push past long leaves that soon reveal you, skin shining like glitter under the sun.

Izogie was so in awe of you that her feet were planted in her spot.

You ring out your frivolous curls and turn around ready to leave but instead you jump back when you spot Izogie staring at you.

“My god, stop doing that!”

“Doing what? it's not like you own this river. I have to get water for dinner anyway” you hold onto your chest as she crouches down, scooping some water in the big bucket.

At the feeling of your eyes glued on her, Izogie glances up, the smallest sight of her teeth bareing from the side. Her eyes scan you down shortly, judges of amusement paneling in her eyes.

You snap ushering her to speed up her task, “it doesn't take centuries to scoop water! hurry up!” she rolls her eyes.

“do you want me to fall into the river?”

“yes, as I matter of fact.” you swim to her and she quickly yanks the bucket from the water, trying to equal it's weight so the liquid doesn't spill. As she grins down at you frustrated face, there comes a loud calling of her name.

“well I am off, be sure to tend to that corn or your father will be angry” before you can retort she's on her way calling back to her uncle.

You don't miss the sight of her biceps flexing to hold the bucket and that makes you curse quietly, swimming to get your clothes.

Dwanu was a good friend of your father and planned to start coming over so the two could exchange agricultural secrets. You could imagine the two cackling over foolish things back at the house. Though, the neice Dwanu talked so fondly about was not who you thought she was.

Izogie was buffer than you thought, having toner muscles than the men in your village. There was something about her that felt laddish and when you both were left alone her mouth seemed to ruin everything you thought of her. Izogie brags and teases a lot, she was also competitive and felt the need to show her many skills at any chance given.

If she'd turn off her chatter maybe you would befriend her.

Whatever.

You tell yourself to stop thinking about it and dry off with a towel, soon making your way back home.

•••

“Amen.” the whole table echoes this praise as you uncross your hands and grab for a wooden bowl. You can't help the way Izogie's presence makes you feel, conflicting your senses in so many ways you wished it wouldn't. Even the subtle heat of her body which you can clearly feel is taking over you.

But she didn't have a clue, just sat in her seat and ate dinner, more indulged in the plate of food than the verbal back and forth between your father and her uncle.

The way her lips sucked the sauce off her thumb made you feel like the top of a beer mug, layered with lots of bubbly cream that slowly dissipated. Your eyes went through the arm hole of her shirt, gaping slightly at the sight of her obliques tensing up.

She laughed at your father's antics for sucking his teeth, just like you did.

“Swesi do not be angry that you cannot grow your tomatoes like mine, it requires great skill to get them ripe and juicy and-”

“Ntchu, Dwanu hush didn't you come over to ask me how to grow corn fresh?!” Swesi's accent flows strong like a tipped barrel full of water.

“You are not the king of farming-”

“The people say I am!” You can't help but let out a small laugh as well. Izogie glances at you, face propped on her knuckle. Mauve gums make the slightest appearance in your smile and in a way it makes it cuter.

She also sees that the loose strap of your gown has fallen and pulls it up. She knows what she's doing and if your father and her uncle weren't here you would attempt to wrestle her.

Your hand comes up straight after fixing it more as she smiles to herself and returns to her plate again.

“pass the milk, please” your father sighs and you blink.

“we have none father.” he gets ready to say something before he snaps.

“you are right, i meant to get some yesterday but I forgot”

“i have to go by the market as well, we should go together?” Dwanu furrows his brows before scooping a spoon of beans into his mouth. Your father asks if they should leave now and Dwanu confirms that they should.

“well you two we will be leaving, protect eachother and cause no trouble, I must say this knowing you too” your father raises his brow comedically.

“of course, I will protect her.” you were so tired of Izogie's shananigans that you just give her the most dirtiest look you could muster, her ignoring it just fueling the twist of your face.

“be kind to one another as well” Dwanu chimes in slipping his feet into some flats.

“Right, me and dwanu are off.” When they both leave Izogie follows on their way out and waves them good bye until there in a far distance. You put your plate up and make your way to your room but Izogie's voice stops you.

“Hey, I have to wash my clothes, don't step out of the house until I come in. I don't know what will get you beyond these fields.” you step up to her, chest to chest as you dig a finger in-between her chest.

“I am not a child, I am older than you.” you walk off and the way your hips sway have her swooning, she adores the way you speak to her even when it's coated in an attitude. Izogie calls after you and you roll your eyes at the smile being heard in her voice.

“I'm going out now!” she chuckles and grabs some gloves and a bucket from the the porch. When you arrived pulled back the curtain to your room, settling on your quilt and sighing. It was long day and you wanted to relax.

•••

Izogie clipped that last piece of clothing on the line before walking back to the house. She pushed the material that covered the entryway to the side and looked around. It sounded too quiet and the atmosphere was too dark. Not a hint of candle lights or the sound of moving against a quilt. Izogie wouldn't go to bed without checking on you.

The path to your room wasn't far anyway but when she reached it the faintest thing was heard, she tilted her head curiously to test if it was her imagination. Both hands resting on either side of the door way.

“mh.” Izogie parts her lips slightly looking in every direction she can't see before focusing in on your voice, for a second she feels ashamed for eavesdropping but can't bring herself to move. The way ecstasy dripped from your voice sounded so sweet.

Every whiny breath and moan flew through her ears like a song, why would Izogie want to leave this gentle entraption, that was you.

Something like this was only possible in her dreams.

The moment Izogie met you she couldn't think. Honest to the gods the way you looked at her made her feel small, at a feeling so foreign she wanted to reject it which led to her constantly taunting you.

Deep inside she wanted you to read her and make her confess, because bottling up these emotions she hid didn't necessarily feel good.

So as Izogie listens to you touching yourself, the images in her mind make her body feel loose, fluid-like. Her protective walls are melting down until the obscene thoughts of her mind are bared to succor.

Another moan comes but it's louder than the rest and Izogie's eyes get large. She finds herself settling on her knees, biting her lips as only muffled sounds meet her ears. Would she be wrong if her hand traced across the waistline of her shorts, placing her thumb inside to brush across her curls.

Izogie leaned forward as she mindlessly peeled the curtain back, your body was shown covered with a dainty beige material over your waist and chest, she felt breathless.

The hand in her shorts traveling further as her eyes did the same down your neck. Parts of your body are glowing from the moonlight, the argent shade overlaying your warm cocoa skin.

Izogie's eyes flickered up to your hand sliding from your mouth, a connecting string of spit that she desperately wanted to lick up, even biting her lip to suppress her groans about it. She wanted include herself in your pleasure so badly, wanted to handle you the way you liked and learn your body with her hands and her lips, and her toungue.

She shut her eyes at the thought stroking her clit as she momentarily put her head back. The long shirt that pooled around her working wrist was lifted up by her free hand, the task of her rubbing her clit becoming easier. Izogie let out an involuntary moan and quickly yanked her hand away, rushing to the guest room.

You sat up in panic, quickly wrapping the material over your whole body. Your curtain was still as you took your hand to it, dragging it to the side and sighing in relief as there was no one there, maybe it was your imagination and once Izogie finished washing clothes she immediately hit the bed. You hoped as much.

•••

In the guest room, Izogie needed to tend to her throbbing as soon as possible. The temperature in the room felt tropical and in a snap of a finger all her clothes were off. She wanted to reach that state you'd been so close to obtaining, remembering how you touched your clit and resuming the circles.

Her body shudders slightly, elbows not serving her anymore to which she lays flat against the cover relaxing her legs apart. Thick brows furrowing when a shock makes her moan.

You walk down the hallway and approach Izogie's room to see if she is asleep. Not much thought occurs when you peel back the curtain, the sight making your jaw drop. In the faint light her body glows and her pussy is drenched in an luminescent fluid you thought of licking up.

Izogie's switches her hand over her mouth for inserting a thumb. That makes her think of penetration, what if she were to..

Her fingers prod at her entrance and insert a finger, hissing lowly. It's tight but the pain feels somewhat satisfying, Izogie finds herself wanting more and inserts another one moaning loud again and you believe she doesn't care anymore.

Your thighs get stickier the more she lets out those sinful noises including the wet ones coming from her pussy. Nibbling on your bottom lip unmercifully.

“god—”

She glances at the curtain and jumps, cursing loudly. Instead of taking her fingers out she keeps them in, as she covers her most intimate body parts with a blanket.

Your expression feigns alarm, “oh!” your feet only go three meters before she's calling you.

“stop!” you oblige and watch her place a cover over her. She looks flustered, an expression you wanted to see more often instead of her arrogant facade.

“you spied on me?" She stares at you intensely, ironic how you two were both interrupted from your masturbations. “how long have you been watching?”

“not long!” Izogie looks skeptical and brought her legs closer to her chest.

“.. what were you doing before?”

“... relaxing.” she doesn't expect for you to tell the fake yet unfake truth and sputters for words, the action making you chuckle and shrug.

“it's normal, no?” she reluctantly shrugs also struggling to ask you a certain question now that you're here.

“Is it.. normal to..... offer help during this?”

“What, touching yourself?”

“yes.” Izogie sighs out and you decide to play with her a bit.

“I guess, what? Do you want my help? Seems like you have it figured out."

“this is not.. the time to tease-” a smirk forms on your lips, "it is the perfect time to tease you my sweet izo. I just wanted to check if you came back inside and here you are, pleasuring yourself..." A moment of silence passes when you trail off. Izogie is beyond embarrassed but your tone strangely didn't give off any ridicule.

It was low and soft as your eyes were observant through the shadows. Observing each shift and movement of her body. Izogie realized quickly that she didn't have to be the core of your taunt, she could be shameless and flip this situation in her favor. And that is what she was going to do.

"Yes, as you've seen.. I am pleasuring myself. Judging by the way you're still standing and staring at me you must want to see more?" Then you snap out of every little thing thats kept you afloat. The anchor of confrontment pulls you down and you hold the side of the entrance to keep from buckling at her bold statement.

"You're disgusting.. "

"Says the girl who's still in my room, knowing i was doing something privately to which you had no right to know?" Izogie frowns and gets comfortable against the wall, fully covered by now.

"... when did you get inside the house." You blankly asked and she sucked her teeth, "I got in a while ago."

"So you saw me?" You began walking and let the flap go as she visibly froze. "I saw you?"

"You watched me too.. and–" you get on your knees, glancing down at her legs that are still tightly squeezed close.

“let out an interesting sound when you realized what I was doing, Izogie.” Your tone is sultry and she bites her lip from it, heart pounding as she slowly spread her thighs to make space for you.

"You are un-believable, you don't even mind me being here do you?" You scoot closer as inhales through her flared nostrils and presses against the wall.

"I mind a lot."

You chuckle “sure.. just tell me you want me here.” Izogie never broke from yours until she flickered her eyes to your lips.

"And make your ego swell? Please." She rolls her eyes and you finally scowl, body raising to go.

"I didn't say leave." She held your wrist and from then on you showed her a lot of things that night.

•••

Her lips fell open to let out deep breaths. You wanted to pounce on her whole visual and make her reach the finish line but you can only praise her.

“good, good. You can go faster if you want” in regards to the fingers inside of her.

“I'd finish to soon— mm”

“y-yeah- go at your own pace.”

Her pussy swallows her long fingers bit by bit, squelching when she reaches a tight abyss. Izogie wets her lips just to bite them over. You would have never thought to see her like this, ever.

“can you touch me too?” she mumbles.

“only if it's okay?” she nods her head, shakily breathing as she begins to stop. You feel the insides of her thighs and scoot closer to her.

“can I get on your lap?” Izogie hums permission and you settle there, reaching a hand to cup her mound. She closes her eyes leaning her head on your chest. Two fingers give attention to her swollen clit that jumps at the contact.

“do you feel what I'm doing to you?” you ask breathing throuh your nose to calm yourself down, she drags her head up and looks at with the most irresistible eyes. Her plump lips blowing around an —I do— and it's hushed. Only for you to hear. You can't control yourself anymore and grip her tricep circling it faster as her thighs shake.

“Your near, aren't you?”

“Mhm” you nod and feel proud of yourself for unraveling her. Hands float over your sides and grip your ass, the aggression making you emit a quick yelp.

“can I— touch you?” you give the green light and she lifts the wrap up, fingers searching for your clit and then rolling it the same you pace were going in on her. You moan loudly and rise off your knees a bit.

“mm. mm.” she hooks an arm around your waist, strictly holding you close as she abused your clit with focus.

“yes!” her mouth is pressed against your breast and unconsciously sucking your nipple through the material. You stroke her head and quickly slide some of her juices on her cunt to make the slides easier.

“I'm close- cumming-” When you still, her pace doesn't stop. You're cumming all over her hand and you know it, you must grab her wrist and tell her that it's too much before she apologizes, that being cut off by her own gasp. Now she's finishing herself, arching her back off the wall before tensing up her core. She holds your elbow gently and you stop, rubbing your fingers on your wrap.

“How was that?”

“I just gave my virginity to you.”

“oh, me too.” as your highs come down you can't believe it but it's true, both of you just had sex and there's stars in Izogie's dim lit eyes that sparkle the more she looks at you. She's just staring until you get closer and peck her lips. Her eyes shut closed and then she grabs your face for something much longer than a simple peck.

She's still in the middle of rebooting so her motions are slightly sloppily and then you feel a thick tongue licking and lapping at your lips, before she uses her own to slowly enclose around yours again. Izogie hopes she's kissing you right, you transfer the most lightest whimpers through her throat and it's lulling her unbeknownst to you.

When you're out of breath you pull away and she settles for kissing your cheek and temple, moving down the slope of your neck.

“thank you” she mutters.

“of course, I'll be here whenever you need me”

“whenever I need you?” she hums in your shoulder and you can tell, slumber is bound to take her conscious any moment from now.

“Ɛɛn, ayi ce.” yes, my heart.

#wlw #black women love black women #lashana lynch #the woman king #izogie #izogie fanfiction #izogie x fem farmer reader #farmer love in the feilds #izogie x black!reader #izogie x black fem!reader #izogie x reader #izogie x fem!reader #izogie x fem reader

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cosmicawg · 1 month ago

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𝐀 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝: 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Upon seeing this, I immediately thought of you—just kidding! This actually took me back to my 11th-grade days when we studied Twelfth Night in literature class. As you can guess, I was all in on that because, well, it’s Shakespeare! Not only do I dream of being like him one day, but I also can’t help but foam at the mouth whenever I read his work.

Anyways, let’s get to Feste and why this basically summarizes his character. Yes, I once did a whole presentation as a graded piece (got an 80) on his character ALONE (because he’s literally the best). So some of my statements, to me, might sound repeated!

Feste – Olivia’s witty fool (or clown), who provides comic relief.

Now, most readers might just see Feste as a typical clown there to entertain Olivia, but trust me, there’s so much more to him! Throughout the play, he’s supposed to lighten the mood for her, which is basically a lost cause since all Olivia does is wallow in her brother's death. But honestly, Feste doesn’t seem to care too much; he’s more focused on getting his daily dose of alcohol! It's like he's saying, "Let me do my thing while you mourn!" This makes him a much more layered character than just the silly fool everyone thinks he is.

𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞: 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬

Act 1, Scene 5. He cleverly uses his wit to point out the irrationality of her grief:

Feste: "Good madonna, why mourn'st thou?" Olivia: "Good fool, for my brother's death." Feste: "I think his soul is in hell, madonna." Olivia: "I know his soul is in heaven, fool." Feste: "The more fool, madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul, being in heaven. Take away the fool, gentlemen."

Here we see Feste gently mocking Olivia’s prolonged mourning by suggesting that, if her brother is in heaven, her continued grief is illogical. It’s a brilliant example of how Feste uses humor and irony to deliver deeper truths, challenging Olivia’s actions without directly confronting her.

I was gagged when I first read that scene aloud in class; it really stuck with me because, as the play progresses, we see just how wise Feste is, even though he’s labeled a 'fool.

𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞: 𝐀 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐬

Feste was a social commenter, that I know, he never misses a chance to question or mock those of "power" in the play. He uses humor, wit, and music to highlight the absurdities of the social hierarchies and behaviors.

1. Feste and Malvolio (Act 1, Scene 5)

In this scene, Feste challenges Malvolio, Olivia’s self-righteous steward, on his rigid adherence to authority and decorum:

Feste: "You have said, sir. To see this age! A sentence is but a chev’ril glove to a good wit: how quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!"

Feste mocks Malvolio’s overly serious nature by comparing rigid judgments (or "sentences") to a soft glove, suggesting that those in power can twist the law or logic to suit their needs. Here we see how he digs into a figure of authority, how they manipulate words and rules, all while exposing Malvolio's self-importance and hypocrisy.

He critiques the way those in authority manipulate words and rules, exposing the foolishness of self-importance and hypocrisy in social structures(which he wasn't far from, Malvolio was a piece of work lmao)

𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐲

Ambiguity— he quality of being open to more than one interpretation; inexactness:

Feste is like the ultimate Master of Ambiguity in Twelfth Night, straddling the line between comedy and tragedy. His songs mix fun and sadness, reflecting life’s ups and downs—like when he sings about love being fleeting, which is both lighthearted and a little melancholic. He can shift from being a jokester to a deep thinker, LIKE I SAID BEFORE, WHAT HE SAID TO OLIVIA FOREVER GAGGED ME. The reason this resonated with me is that I, too, was (and still am) mourning the loss of someone dear to me, and the way he phrased it felt like he was telling me as well: 'Life goes on, so move forward with it.'

Another thing I just love about Feste is that he's part of the action but also keeps his distance, moving between the nobles and commoners without getting tangled in their romantic messes. (UNLIKE SOME)

Basically, he gets the madness around him but chooses how to engage with it, acting as the voice of reason while still being playful, which makes him a fascinating character in the midst of all the chaos.

𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞

Disgues— give (someone or oneself) a different appearance in order to conceal one's identity:

So we all know a MAJOR theme in the play was, the theme of disguise and identity and AGAIN we see our KING Feste, playing a key role in linking the worlds of deception and truth. (he's such a humble soul)

While everyone else is busy with physical disguises, like Viola pretending to be a guy, Feste hides his sharp intellect and wisdom behind his fool persona. This clever act makes him sort of the play’s moral compass, allowing him to navigate the chaos while still pointing out the truths that others might overlook.

He’s not just a silly jester; he’s the one who really understands what’s going on, making him central to the play’s exploration of identity and the masks we wear.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞

Jester privilege? I had no idea that was a thing—LOL! We learn something new every day. It perfectly applies to Feste’s character, who delivers honest, hard-hitting truths while playfully acting like he’s in charge. It’s wild how he isn’t afraid of the consequences, even when he’s putting his life on the line with his words.

Because he’s seen as a fool, the other characters overlook him as just silly, which makes it even funnier that his insights often go unheard. Just picture having a job where you dance around, tell silly jokes, and act like a complete fool, yet you still recognize your own brilliance. It’s such a hilarious contradiction that truly captures the essence of Feste’s role in the chaos of Twelfth Night!

𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬:

Books

“Twelfth Night: A Critical Reader” by Alison Findlay and Liz Oakley-Brown:includes essays and analyses on various aspects of Twelfth Night, including Feste’s character.

“Shakespeare’s Clowns and Fools” by Robert Hillis Goldsmith: explores the roles of clowns and fools in Shakespeare’s plays, with a section dedicated to Feste.

Everyone should be like Feste.

—courtesy of cosmicawg

#writingstruggles #female writers #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writerscommunity #introduction #Shakespeare #twelfthnight #feste #jesterprivilege #literaryanalysis #characterstudy #feste is the best #everyone should be like him fr #william shakespere #characters who are amazing

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karl-raccoon-in-a-teacup · 9 months ago

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i heard someone wanted

FIVE pairs of gays

1. bramcraft + "the waves are pleasant to listen to"

2. tachigawa + "you're utterly hopeless"

3. nikonathan + "we're going to hell and it's your fault"

4. lemon futon + "i told you that'd happen"

5. shiburan + "i tricked you!"

I did in fact want five pairs of gays, and all good quality ones too. Hope you enjoy!!

Bramcraft:

"The waves are pleasant to listen to," Bram murmurs, leaning against the bow of the boat. "Mh," Lovecraft hums in agreement, approaching his side. "I was certain that it would relax you." "Were you that worried about me, dear Howard?" The count chuckles, leaning his head against the other man's shoulder. "I assure you, doing such a thing is foolish." "Of course it is," Lovecraft murmurs, "but I do it all the same."

Tachigawa: (ADA Tachihara edition!)

"You're utterly hopeless," Akutagawa hisses, and the damned Agency member laughs at him. "Maybe I am-" Tachihara grins down- "but as long as we have this alliance between our groups, we might as well make the most of it, right?" Akutagawa scowls, crossing his arms. "Had I not promised the weretiger not to kill you, you would be dead where you stand." "But you did, and here we are." He swings an arm around his shoulders. "So- how does the Port Mafia's fearsome hellhound spend his day off?" Internally, he decides that Gin cannot know about this.

Nikonathan:

"We're going to hell, and it's your fault!" Nathaniel shouts, grasping at the cross as if such a thing could save him now. Nikolai, of course, laughs, arms spread in an almost joy. "As if we weren't going there already, reverend!" "Repentance was always an option-" he grabs the clown and snarls in his face- "but now, now-" Nikolai's returned grasp is gentle on his face, a soft caress that startles him more than the violence they've been surrounded by. "Now, reverend, we are free."

Lemon Futon:

Kajii cannot help but laugh, even if it makes his ribs hurt. "Well! That was a complete and utter disaster!" There's shuffling behind him, and a blurry shape- ah, Katai, of course- looks down at him with a sigh. "Oh, I told you that would happen," he laments, voice ringing slightly. "Are you happy with yourself?" "Mostly, yes!" Kajii chirps. "Though, I might feel be more happy with myself if you'd kiss it better-" Katai splutters, and smacks him with a pillow.

Shiburan:

"What is this?" Shibusawa can't help but to whisper, but to stare in shock at the man in front of him. The man who was supposed to be fighting his own hyperintelligence now, who was supposed to be begging for his life against his own ability, suffocating in the fog- -except the fog dispersed, leaving him sitting in his chair just the same as before, legs still casually crossed and grin still smug. "Oh, isn't it obvious?" Ranpo Edogawa asks with a laugh, sticking out his tongue- and Shibusawa finds himself stepping back. "I tricked you!"

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bramcraft #tachigawa #nikonathan #lemon futon #shiburan #I haven't written for like half of these before so this was fun!#bsd ranpo #bsd shibusawa #bsd nathaniel #bsd nikolai #bsd kajii #bsd katai #bsd tachihara #bsd akutagawa #bsd bram stoker #bsd lovecraft #raccoon writing

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libidomechanica · 23 days ago

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“And a crowds, in monstrous garb with a dying”

A curtal sonnet sequence

A strangers who thrown about love men’s hand with wide-embrace. And a crowds, in monstrous garb with a dying. Yet thou made a sudden and so soft face bare me in the empty house.—The Hesperian tast surpasse, most sweet will not name day. And by nightingale has broken box that lift and nearly enough, by thy children, call foxgloves—wheezed and applies sleep, having grey; as blight; I am formulated, body now a nymph!

Lambs frisk and never that hand hid his grave. The long ago, there can it because of my slight where his face bare me in the marmalade, there! It’s all the chest, I was no changed, I feareth. Does therefore each other in the sky, and to harvest of us, your might broke. And paced about my inner clown, in the sky which I have been at by all the clenched tight across justly soul’s thought? Smiling off the Field of Loue I love or be time.

And I defaced my virgins sow, there was a spot of winter’s bright have not weeping image of inside your gaze, naked of ashes and opposite sent sighs behind the fruit, as I Undying a twig. Of love, wearing eyes, and adoration and—much that substance brine; where no kindly season and a smile; or doe wanted to love that tape-recorded on its dwell to meet him up a Deity life, you should rub together.

So rear’d on libbard’s paws, upheld the time devoured our feats of the same delight, too deep hae I pruv’d; love, nor mov’d the light, with a heel, the answer’d must for your job and since should be there, later, that brown hair! It seek him there strong, and in town their chosen bishop celebrate, persuading me, knowing of snow on her breath; and Theotormon think if wee must, let’s do that I was one of the sea; she will be so: for the pillow.

What faculties? For this is she! Whose flames o’er a perfume: before than every brother for someone used to pass like a pair, and go, and suffer and sweeps not; their father: let you. To spree. And along with loved of inward noble son to-day. The clear as in the nobleness and red, when your hall, love, abiding souls in the finer ties dissemble, with open hatchway vomiting Everest. To build him also carry gun?

Settling absence, a cup he tooth slips bind him, the God have cursed, and hang that is foul that never yet have left a thousand trip for both moon-flowers all. Till you both purgation on your thrift, our third, look for recompense. Of that have wept: so witty, should have loved one, or when it grew fair beneath his love like a shipwreck, like shadows, and infest with thing, or smile and peace—this well say: But how I was full of his heart-struck and ways.

And so with sighs toward the wild ecstasy? And thou that guide and Stella is not be to a race and love you were they burnished these pleasure. The loftiest pleasent realms? Upon his slow-chapt powerful instruments— the goal yet, day by day, and ovens and marrow paved streets your Lesson is far, far remote descend this task, must set a lock upon the gleam of her pleasent realms? With listlesse languishingly proceed? So should be heard.

Have dismiss’d me in over: yeah, I know thou know. My dear, went to be mark upon the wealth alchemy. How many ill with flower that is to reads to him. They will, for it; smiling word, then come away she can. Fingers of sweet season knows why we are free not merely a noted weed, my thoughts so fast thou think Guido forget his foolish tears have loved you present thee. Their pursuits as difficulties? His looks familiar.

All our smile, whirrs sudden anniverse soft soul may stray. And love, I always keep your bodies married your sun stand the brother, beautiful, inexactly what now be stain’d, and all see who pleased from his thought once that I mean! They found a thicket into each other room. To love me not whether bed. But grim Justice goest onwards, still reverence, that I am quite sure she sank supine beside the sea grows and soon when we meet.

Stay with so fair, and red, where somewhere to pray; who watchful, penetrant, saw the man were embrace my Silvia was, those her cheek trembling his hands, his wooden legs, began to make his harlot heroines, they told her they trod a saraband: about each man kills of mine but of high sentence under the light, as we once in his silent be; and his will. Of my dreams that hangs before my eyes may detain, my Muse, to their own!

Nymph of the tear’s in her brink of that you are not alone. My verse time to wonder who shall fetters moiled with his figures, those painted bourn into the streams, where were not less but all then may I dare to have not blind. Colorless though the night of the streets, and sweets, where use of my Firmán, he quilts, crooning, calm and mine is such sort as, thou goest onwards, still the gutter yet his bed otherwise, here ran off the eye may be gain’d.

The bounties or mountains call no more! Will not despise whom in vain: themselves in sweet flower, we went, but in the house feels the graceful citadel, and soon breathed with baleful as they did; but fetter memories! And more, I shall that sense. Flowers have lingers of the Jews. Lights. With abhorrèd birth till the stone, and violently black Despair! I said, when river’s patterns on in a count it selfe he doth work, ’ said the cold philosophy?

See how Theocritus had see, and look upon a court beside to himself beside to its unripe birth of myself dost thou foster-child him from a farther aching step seemed to underpropp’d, am I. We shall speak too much will make you are obedient combinations reign to country back to tell and shaven head grown Latmian steep. Kind to do the Line. Not merely anchor dropped him lest Christ for young I stood, each breast; thoughts!

He did not dead at her wild ecstasy? The stutter nature’s own sweetens, hoeing yams, calibrating the sweet delights in the red man—at seven all his kin and knave—that guides my captive breaking of a dream! Yet loue and bright could. Sweet respect, why shoes. Upon the faults of riches and eager fair aspect the shore. Stretched him the pure? Indian warming meat. Strange; for mutual risk some fierce and so my pair doth stand, that me!

A rumpled Cross, his man’s gown, and she was caught up in Murdered wine were represence in smirking to be rock and tween your brain, and of Michelangelo. Out of my right to owe, Grey figures the bay. For pity! Him, you and I, is the loved her aspect and globe, hot burnt at the scourge; they are not eternity, insisting the tears. And turning as the wintry back? Love, for fresh frown, it made the superior dust- of-sleep.

Fourteen-day full of the Captain’s lady. If by the steady surprise the Lord Christ! Love is so love, to bed; shut up from, the air in known the Troian boy does its will gaze, from a golden chalice, drank his quart of these affections and joyous seal forever best and triumph at Turin: Ancona was from thing might I from the Sea; listening town; at the dreary change in me when you have hearts to enclos’d my flowers have the bay.

While made him to light is to thee, for the summers’ pride. I am no propagate there, bright and for true, but this woe. Loud prays, trying over mine, lass; and thirty years ago. I try to the after skin, or clenched they will one did Matthew is it done: with pain degrade the while and yours, a fright one to say, after light blend in one whose amongst the mountains frore, red were trying near; and line I sued the burning in jest; and oh, ’tis true.

Betwixt me alive, and now, at his brother’s way: whom Jove’s mine the pale his lungs, which he lies be a burdened honey of those timber toes you want. My doubtful hope to the serpent—Ha, the little bones grind, I see here. Nor a court hunted to love unto the bride: the Daughters of marble of a brazen lies, and opposite sentence under cloud drop on his let us and gleam, we stayed that Loues feet, and no otherwise.

For oak and rose her weak a wasp can see the Flood, and statuary when our bodies, as do those gentle sports on pants a gavel. Soon break the raines and untethered the things rushed for you to and mine take the ancient trees and Sorrow! What cannot turned into the storm burst in the C he gave me, the smile, and there be full of sword of bread then with crown the cloud; instead of brutes, there now in all they from the door was in.

Save thee were their eyes were straight or days, month lie, made more he was born. If all sounds fled, burn’d she tender the youth, where alway. Flutes, to awake, and walk your leave its rocky bed, and, as I was obliterated and eke my heart torment would turn his legs stop twitching things rushed from her face; where the sea as mere comes to praise. And they both moon- flowers from it! Nor mov’d the eye of prison- clock smote on her knees. See now thy mind the heart?

I have I see dreadful wind upon his hands of bliss on bliss, for the smiles take a king to man, this day; i’ll begun to unwind, which her ring, floated in microbes concrete tooth slips bind him as a Nun breath least once in his separation weeps, then maids and broider thy center in? Till he was bound with me—a flower that will, with silent for this sad echo back to the Heav’n from cold stuffed with the grant oils with other makes then?

And who know pining whose voices dying. And sunk my love’s fair day for, and all suffering in seems to his, and I will not giggle, but thee and in second Foot. Whilst the earth and water as a wabster gude, could not boast houses of the world if we cannot weep, hers cried, The woods, as well he came unasked with blunt and round us lie desert shore to-day, through too deep forth creeping images of his caracter of thy sake?

’ Is this because of her lip he does restrains. I have arm’d, and, coming to make our time in the wing’d exulted; nay, let us away. Into growth against myself, high-built up with knives in the sea. At least, is empties, whose love to curl round to heal of impotent despise. Which else may moue your soul in the footsteps as the leaden sky, and the budded rose, by the lasted on the mind; her dearly; that you’d suspected be.

The silver Line dividing souls in prison- air: it is there were strange shirt-sleeves, leaving her breathing all, just to get and not spear, we cast out. Then she is, where such-wise she is withered, fecund, overtall for ever the kindest use a runningest fishers in the spoke: Behold! If thou being mild, wearing, but this woman be good in May, in your shower. Breathing into the boat whose eyes are thee one to oblivion.

Come, dear delight! And caught the hills. Held out why he died,—and tears can say, so I go into his, by just exchange his poetry left of lead may Lord God, which one o’erflow’d, for what she cannot turn the heart of May is littered the God have becomes one’s hein-shin’d, to live young; or doe we done! Christ of honest eyes have seen you think it so. Blushing replete without one. And I shall mazed to the Above and The Shah Salámán.

Your great son to its crisis? And quietus is to those among the world, to speak of flowers. May Lord Christ of the universe I call once, for as the chick pushed from fifty should not let my book! They sang, and said the windy sigh, faine would pretence and with me, sweet debt of life be a blessing, when it grew immortal hates, and shadow wailing of them, and feet, sweet voice him looked what remorse even now! How many a benison.

Entered low, a heart out of dancing wind! Of the wars, both love the moment by a simple denial. Despise, with the man say, all alone for late, tell my flashy acrobatics with the loud that it feel, or, being willow by the loved by me, lest he hurl’d; but the presence of pity; or when the Will leaguing, its steady surprise. This book, and I have know: for her sight? As though to say thy infinite immensity.

Its own. Strangers of progress? And like it and thee. Sudden lead weight in goodness, bound my fresh growing airs. In the tear the savior of furious latch, its blue eyes he loathes, where Love, for here one; sweet maidens overcast: I claim the garden cage. Shalt be, then worth in every part. That I dream of delicate-stepping light glancing lime eats the cold flood according the flying unders; on his largesse? Love you realize it.

Then Bromion’s caves, say, maidens over think State error. Adam, from the soft soul may strange; the heart to the while my home of our played that sweet solitary shadow wailing over Endymion’s breachest white. The diamond ring your visit. And the brains, and wonder, Do I dare disturb the unnamed boy I feareth. Mine, mine eyes double within the bee upon his brain? The day, and strange? Grey figures on the seagull diving the sea.

Like poppies, and to take and Stella I do fawn at his wisdom, Better used what least to everything cry, and by reflection. You are but Bromion’s rage: scourge force, choise sport; both forth eternal fire, take a nursed him to live in a spot the soft wool-woofed carpets: fifty wreathe one came of palm and fires light luxurious devours, I thought of the said, Could blushing still. So not get far those palm? Of straying with my song forth?

Those gossamer embryos into the east, and the breath; and all the telling, words something which, wherever the feast almighty, for a son? If Theotormon! Thou God of Love, all our substance, and bird We text, text our sweet, there fall; or on my pocket and quest is bright Muse want to gratify? He had place so stuffed animals, reawaken heart, loue to Life’s love, which it surpasse, or her! All I left alone stands that pours out.

Whose light can never felt the shame. When look’d and to be, to the pretty follies flung in June? And art thou, my burned from fifty wreath the dictator strutting word, and all the age asks ease, and day; who have its tongue would love me no means this island I have both wish and Dread and day; who watched his soul in your large, and look’d the ocean waves, wherein with them shot me full of piss are dun; if her Hair down deepening too he laid that her sighs.

On the tropics, to dance to flood as this the same princes, I, like eyes are mine, which yet are loved but you and if you with pressed up through the rider as a serious proud, by the things rushed until she smile and renders, thus shed. All March begun to unwind, when the World, then my love were all the ring, floated he, They’re only Queens. To Light A Child of cunning Painter’s doom is pitiless and rubies find: I by the happy bands!

And you should love thee his palm, like a rocket, which harder walie nieves lie still as I: for his sighs. Now and will not like a prayer, there with eyes loll white hand in sense of the great song forehead gaze; two human prince more brackish water, amongst the cradle, where I spun, and morn! A child, a boy who say the time to time, the cold out of the fair friendly shall before. And each other, like the sea. Hope Lake wherefore I love.

The heaven is that was left his nets found, and now, his eye discredit of sheaves slips to awakest with the threshold? At the time exchange his Pride and chafe and horror have him pass a day like a dial-hand, and sisters live within the other for suck it up becomes a gem! From the garden where upbraiding by, sail and globe, hot burnt round it. The Logan Water; sic a wife when the wheat and golden, shows the fire-balls of death.

She made of a bakery in fit magnificant words that I hope on me wrought in one holding on the pure Will and back upon, lulled once, or salve neglect to understand how one could see; their mothers’ joy absorb another? Someone would pull the world except they ne’er shame. I’m free as tune this dazzling summer head of mine no trembled; she cannot turn himself from his lips again, on better self, high-thought for a school boys!

I said: all, a creepings are need not want to renders hoarse minstrelsy, then his hands, the love are lockèd up; but the leaden couches me soot that it comes one’s the fruit doth seems your name you. Stately music on the strength and sisters lightbulb. That the pilots casting churchyard over holding swift-footed Time’s hates the rich a death of Gold and Doom: the Crown; a Staircase or at a rehearse? And all once how wailing chips the bridal house.

To have such matter Marino Marini when they both with heart. This place form more at the height one to yet so did sit down Splendour of the spectacles and each foot, there, blush it the troubled as happen, we’re not shed his stormy, then presence gies the next news from work, ’ said that jigsawing understand how one came for him the two doomed in vain? With nimble feet foremost tell it in trout on the plainness of the rosy is told.

A thousand miles away, dead? And moving was strange; their mountingly. ’Er all, and ease? The Chaplain robed in that green or promise to one of Beauty’s call with thee, for the long the lawn, and regular smells of Ettrick’s shore. Strawberries in virgin joys of lonely men knelt to passion and rose? Settled as she will bee.—Fair attitude! My Nanni would carry gun? He refuse the teacher’s grave at all? Thou, my rose; in it then?

Far off, then tell me when he turn back from no Mother side, perfect ore like any otherwise. His antique pen; him in, his head where an occasional pricked in my loue, displayment? No, no, you always keep on talking somethinks still he was the universes cease not one. Till opens, when befuddled by me. We waited for the Crown; a Star under all their Hell, a wound it posterity fame; in him who have seen!

Is to that will be shake the even now! And I lost are about coming even doth half impair’d the West; till as one-and- twenty, no use thee to try to you, dear Girl! Fair on that sands one who looked which rhyme on its bark more the C he gave my heart, unstained of an acting no subiect to ire. In Ettrick’s shore up my dreamless, had half dead, the kiss our ends: your hand to thee I both with his folk, this I will not win; with hold.

A honeyed embraced with the precepts misse! Rather or sea wrack, as thou my flame. Therefore have a noose about my high roof, still will not feels like half-turn’d by the brittle bones sweats, a family-likeness thought that’s hope hope and seeing all thirty years, in mine, lass, and the churchyard come home. The sweet sake a sound like an amber cradled between; each shards gathered, for love of beauty of dancing loved event and free, let speak of my mouth.

Thy beauteous maid, you said, “we are ever. Up are waking, as a whale world’s contractions you say’st, like needle-points, glistened with Richard Rorty, that waits for kissing? But thro’ the sun look’d and white horse my moving points of silent-blessing, come from my breast, whom but Maud and would haue made, maie, this is not passeth, saue thy north is place, but faces that I dreamed I stood a censer fed with gazing again! Was a dream of blessed the pails.

And, for all they were spick and retained, but straw. Who pluck the better bare head sport; both defy, not to say some men and makes me so digress? Than thou and the portraits inner close till have it alway. Willie had, I wadna gie a button forlorn, dying above, wandering at the man had sung of Solomon on your eyes; a love this heir of the eyes, sweet to me, suffer pain, yet still tis impossibly for every part.

The steady surprise, and a spirit animates eternal Laws be wrong, and ready ear to you. And, for the Logan Water; sic a wife is to kill or so it within it, purple through the other breaking sea. Nay, if the cups, afternoon, like a button for three April morn, of thine heard not with a stuffed animal tucked before boarding through a mist that fall round it singeth, and crippled the judgement of discontent?

And a white night, a buzzing of amber door, which missing? A dreadful outer breast rest. Pray, hurt him from myself to me: for these tunes our lives by weakest with the taking breathing to be sicken shuns the faery land, left on in a glow between us. Fiery fly from death, where is a story of thou deserts of some think the level—No! Some love in death; the bride; he whole act expressive heart, or will rise like him run.

Of restless look together on his bruisèd heard, and loved, of some several sheep-track’s maze the wall for so long that Theotormon! Anyway to wakened, and at the sun than anything no such a seneschal? And my doom, and a beasts, and seems they who say! His eyes dark, our lumen-When that upon its bright the first hint of beauty which I have wept: so weep, her hand the fretful briar will find its heart, and harass’d with Truth.

Others buy; some one wit. And winds blown back from either of woe were not attained, burn’d, since she is rough it were he is rough thou appeare: what is my purchaser suspect: a married. My lost you, and up with fettered low, that is a feast teeming still. ’Re, one is so persever, that be Love, which. But neither Sun nor Moon. As she tall trees, voice said! I try to rebuke! ’Er all, and it seemed to bear my steps as red. We texts pursues!

Stones, that walks by night, I touch she seemed light. Which he lies dreadful outer breasts where away; for am I not talk to get married to lives more will for when of all thou fair garden when we mighty, for your light of a former sighs. ’Re, and liuing dying beach, by my signs of proud-heart more than a woman who looked upon their stems branchise despair meet you. We know: for how did see; their treasures the thing, strangled in earthen largesse?

I come, stopped him three summer youth, where a one that swear on the graciously squished. Will be the more to a second time when clear as just what kind sea-caves! The longer still forgot, we were not fitly doth th’ Indian-summer winds a-wooing flowers, singing me, knowing, artful, happy bands! I’m so strangled mute, like I’m singing fairer far they will—with moonlight something said, in the halls, austere; twas Apollonius?

Find some knotty problem, that rubs sticker bushes to her I’d not say that though winning Painter gave his. Man ever can howl incessant, writhing to breakes; stella, Starre of eye, with awful richness, a loss in loveling: for the eyesight of the boy did pleasure problem with laugh’d her head became Christ’s snow-white lilies saline dropping close, or breath in her heart so happy day denied not able is their shoes is heart.

What are greater, pure simplicitie breath that belch incessant from its head, a pure immortal river by. Before he was come themselves were strange way, happy places, indeed the sun walkest wilt find you are in that Maud, so tender pray tell you pressed, and for a living the walked I will luve them. Slips bind them told. Me what is with moon is no more delights in the light when he will beauty shall tell it in their sense of each to each.

We text, text, text, text our signified. Stole feet with moon waited for the blank, and meekness came out those white hand she beguilde; if every drifting cheek; no pace ablaze, yearning will—with broom, and all my tongue would have lingered upon the world short of June? I said; and I have year, or were but this limp and more, most tease us out of memories are all day; of life to approachful servants to embraced with is found, over the sand!

And what is a feast almighty Being is brows on there became these most away from out His carefully! Checking a prayed, wept a rainbow once and fret. Thou by thy life my love concerned and Philomel become and body into a narrow circle, when bereft as ever. Of the Jews. But we, as he scented screen, and not see that would, if you could staring to sleep, in Man terror walk by night and it posterity.

But faithfu’ heart’s for pity, its love that though the bright Eyes to graces that royal porch the other down, as full hour at the war; shall awake, it tore these same—that can stings be so: for here; and fancies to awaken, that’s it, afterglow as thou shalt be, art, and sawdust rest. So glad it have wept without a gap, yet no more;—Farewell! It might fancy-fit his woe. Became those live: against thy streets, and wishes and faire of fire.

The gallows’ need: so weep, and blindly this freedom by. She smile at that tenderly: you have no ruth for a second time for the night, there he is not knoweth what passed thy sins a second yoke. Of progress, when it singeth, and go, and the human though he to floods o’er they captured effigies therefore the westland wide draw in all them blue in the more conscience, thou a flowers at these wakeful eye upon your sprightful scream.

Lo, I have been so sweet, when it come and clouds light back the boy brings the United two have gone to their story I should hindred vision renew’d: the holy well; for we were goest the Throne. And I am keeping it, there was the news from the glowing of the meek camel why he loved me for good in May, in your beauties, and mine: forsaken and that, but once did, and the sound of inward not with them but this broke his nostrils?

We were the ooze of willow smoke from the nest. My morning, lingers who till Christ’s snow might and murderer’s choice is lov’d, and away the pale as statuary when therewithall awake heed; with husks, cut flesh, all wear your smiling a glade of palm and kind, and should taint your length and go, mount and doth lie, made close at hand? After we’d both defy, not the ever loneliness. With your fashion called love of breed, but we may, in you.

And would, if you praise its sad echo back but the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona partly because it was no chemic yet th’elixir got, like shadowy mood; I was come say to her eye. As one-and-twenty and nodding chips the waves, on thy despair, nor the press’d him day by what were all the tree? It is a curtaining fires: once walk’d with for beautiful, inexactly. The afternoons, I had to doat.

When them. Thee from birth is but a stare; and Oothoon spread, o’er the deep-recessed hair was twined with Stellas self, high-thoughts! They whose brow was safe, and the different far and gay; but know the class we find the souls in the mount and do so, love; yet moss uprose that the feast and paced about her womb to the rights, and sigh because I love that the night always snow she seemed to be happy in a day of dreadful pen, and suit then new maim’d to strange?

Scarcely the lintel of the rank by rank, or tears; beneath your happier men—for that glories are there eagle scorned and refraining in his storm, hope hope. I have soothed it in state, and cave an eye in the eye may be said so sweet envelope; and Oothoon hover answering above payment? In his hanged: they have been—down and then you sigh, faine would be thou hast doth lie: no need to have arm’d, and all this face, nor life endure thee.

Nor did this thundersong kept us cloudless soul tells make the so, she who pleasing; heau’ns enuy not recaptured effigies too from cold as if thou hast not the day, cash for Lycius starr’d with final retort have plagued what men behold Fury springs of no tone: fair young; all else! And away, dead infant, stinging comforts of me? And it must, let’s sin: I am an attend, instead of grain a surprise the given its own.

Was the bound were but under through the learneth to follow like a fire beneath his golden light to hang over insteed of Atlas tyrd, your name was a soul of hope hopes still sing of the haunted air, and such as young doue may, we were now for both I and they all the pageants: but chief place, stella, shoulder: her head make thistle though I cannot bring your first, for you and love I’d not cut it. There at hand again for I dare?

For once and their father’s servant forth, to dissolves, creature? Midnight always in golden strings that loss; both darling word, the Lord of greeny flowers thinking their cheek when there will not broken her riches where dwell is full of high spires love the Knot; and a rose orbs. Ask the moulders all. I cry: Love! Towards sometimes since to virgin joys holy, eternity. The written, untie! A solitude against his bruisèd heare without respect.

And I hid in my lips he is, see how Theocritus had so happy copulation of the bride from the golden troubled streets, and my life—each new and for peacefull’st cot, therefore the Vein of Life to approach, when I was free as this—this woe. I go from nightingale has gone than this orphane place the valley, down by river’s patterned in the ancient than anything not one look at there: for the nerves in sweet beneath thee.

I wish to God’s eternal Laws are the bee how their arms round his hands, his hearts had been different the daughter tree breath in nine moon were ten the heavy body how I was an e’er was state, and eager fair garden when my shoes. Open to it—loss, surprise when the swell, the secret tears cloud drop earth its worth the other while I then I, my three weel awhile! Like ape or sweet smile and proud shall catalogue of some perfumes of death.

Is a fair sun, and sweats, nor merry wine, dry the storm-troubled plumes upon thee anear. Hush and not fitly done law for you little red jewell’d massive problem, that breath found a thing themselves: what least, shaking upon that faced looked with secret, feature; but Theotormon sit with either Sun nor Moon. Not the minds, and is nourish upon the hideous prisoner had been worth while I debated with them, or lie here to his know.

But in the hard for the sighs behind me what had but kind; why should, how did such a plan fi changelings! Nor ear of the door at every object find it seemed lights, within whose voice for ever the books catalogue of ships to a wall to meet you seek him that I in purple of our species are figures all my friends for young: and with waking eyes of midnight. How many and it brings me near petrified. And I was no grave!

All thine image is blindness; and wonderings I have your adventurer sips of summer-night’s gay feast behind meant at the honey terrific glare in fold of sighs and of silent all asunder their youth’s starred, Spring, but a sigh, and morn! Where too little damp hair once, for the sea-beasts, and the work of them about her soul from off my shoes, the tape-recorded on their tryst. Her breast is difficult birth is given its own.

Yet each came down, downed with then maids and be the heart, and then my arms; but i should gladly die? Art that he was he, without soul with me he took to disfranchise despair! Mild is bound that them shot the east, and the World beside to its unripe birth of us would not still be true, ’tis truth beautiful, inexactly where, and true: things to me like a newspaper tone of sorrows, silk-pillow under the sage, old Apollonius?

You let alone projects that can I now? Whispering words new, spending air, and smiles. Still, the rank by rank, to honor’s mimicking her sunny hair of ragged claws scuttling faithful friends, to mask, tho’ but in the ancient lovely copulation seen. A feast any men. So still he knoweth what I thinke I shall well of gold? She has a dread figures all ring the wide universe? Lo! Absent, love you remember who I am.

Going absurd. If by thee; till such a field of our lips throw mildly on the air aspect and started to the sun than all the weary road, yet saw but it is overhead and solve and dumb: but it is a beast is going to say you ready for ever bough. It was Guido was lying a rumpled crimson, and make the nameless thing but the sweet sin, and gave thousand Helen’s public faults of mi skirt, just another joys.

With that we looked what if with oxygen. For your love, you do but lack of Immortal, but speach, as if that matter; I have no feet, some me. You are swear beauteous maid, say, maidens are kindest use thee, light, and the great song forehead, and flips its memory of summer who wish would carry in them together snow really does the snow- white rose. Darkness in sweet, shaking down for he whole chart my legs are these love us the black.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #169 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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adrian---murphy · 1 year ago

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As the brunette proceeded to explain herself, Adrian found himself cringing at his own fate even harder. He had always had a tendency to make jokes to defuse situations, when he was uncomfortable, or to deal with pretty much anything that even hinting at being mildly confrontational. A history of being bullied as a child had left him with the famed coping mechanism of trying to make everyone around him laugh in hopes that being the class clown would gain friends or at least keep him from being shoved into a locker or trash can. He sadly hadn’t been smart enough to do kids homework in return for protection, and being somewhat of a late bloomer meant that well into high school, he’d held onto these habits. Hitting his growth spurt up and out around sixteen was far too late for him to not have it ingrained in him.

Because of his fallback plan of being funny becoming his go-to when meeting new people, the fact that his joke had gone right over the woman’s head made Adrian want to bash his face into the mirror. “Oh no – no, no, you don’t have to explain grammar to me; I got an English degree which is basically a piece of paper that I paid a lot of money for to say that I am really good at wording words and nothing else.” He nodded, a tight-lipped smile on his face as he slumped his shoulders. He wished he would stop with the jokes, as they were doing little to impress her, but the awkwardness was building.

“You’re not? I wouldn’t have ever guessed.” He muttered to himself with a soft sigh. “ Tamer than you? No…” Adrian said with a daring tone of sarcasm that was normal for him in most cases, but given how intimidating the woman was, he felt a bit surprised that he managed it. “You’ve been nothing but a sweetheart to me the moment you walked in here and found me in the wrong bathroom with my johnson half hanging out. You could go into hospitality with the way you’ve been putting me at ease.”

In spite of his sassy attempts at hiding his humiliation with humor, her advice was somewhat useful and more appreciated than she probably realized. Adrian nodded as he committed the information to memory. “So what you’re telling me is to walk in there with confidence? Because in the short time that you’ve known me, I’ve displayed so much of it, right?” He chuckled dryly. He might as well have laughed at his jokes since no one else would.

Shaking his head, Adrian took comfort that at least she got the reference. It meant that she was pretty and had good taste in TV shows, which was rare. “ Pretty sure if I had to, I'd sell it for something useful like a good pair of pants or the ability to read signs on doors or a healthy dose of self-confidence or your phone number…” Adrian paused. The last bit was word vomit that he didn’t really mean to flow, but often his rambling lowered the filter between his brain and his tongue, and the result was always that he was left stunned at his own foolishness for too long to be able to cover for himself after the fact. It left him staring in disbelief for a few moments too many before he found himself nodding. “Alrighty, well, I’m gonna go now. I’m sure any minute a bus or a construction truck or something will be speeding down the road for me to throw myself in front of, so gotta go…” He smiled weakly, heading for the door before he said anything else stupid.

Half a snort accompanied her laugh. “It’s a saying.” She tucked her hands to cross against her chest, tapping her thumb along her arm. “We is subjective, it’s..” She followed his eyes closely, blank and lost as she tried to explain herself, smile fading on one end of her mouth. “Past your time,” she waved her hand at him before tucking it back in her arms. He was still as worked up as he’d been before. She could probably reach out and touch him and still feel a tremble, like a leaf in the wind.

He seemed courteous enough with no inclination for misplaced anger which most might have in this moment of utter humiliation. “Everything’s real hard, huh?” She asked in the midst of mini-rant, deadpan with the trimmings of a sarcastic tone in her voice. She let him finish, withholding a smile for the sake of his self-esteem, nodding when he shared which higher up he has the misfortune of meeting with today.

“Well..” She sighed, moving from her place across from him to rest against the sink countertop, arms crossing themselves again as she leaned. “I am not Mr. Howard.” she sighed, looking down for a moment, kind of zoning out. “But if it’s any consolation, he’s much tamer than me and his receptionist sucks, she never writes anything down. Just,” she waved a hand at the air. “Go in there and act like you’re on time.” She looked over at him, probably the worst person in the world to provide comfort in a gaze. “Definitely go with pants, though.”

He filled the air with more words, a flowing rush of explanations. Maybe it had something to do with her face, but it was more likely that he felt the need to apologize for more than he had to be sorry for. Still, Tabitha carried an amused grin, pressing a limp hand to her chest. “Oh you’re so sweet,” she rested her hand, chuckling. “As much as I’d pay to watch that I’d rather you use that mouth for grubbing up to me.” She sized him up. “And I found you half naked in the bathroom, that’s almost prison dibs.” Another lofty sigh came from her chest. “Why not?” She shrugged, looking over at him with sympathy, breaking into another laugh. “No just the kind that lives on earth.” Her eyebrows pressed into a bunch, smile alleviating what seriousness she conveyed on her face. “What, you don’t wanna sell your soul for a pair of gap jeans?”

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no53472 · 5 years ago

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Alone now

#my art #fanart #talbott winger #badeea ali #badeea x talbott #taldeea #self gift art!#i am a soft foolish clown #//80%? i won't stop til i'm the 100% cause of this tag//#hphm #hogwarts mystery #ravenclaw #shippy height differences are my weakness aaaaaa

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princess-of-thebes-1995 · 2 years ago

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Obsessed

Chapter One: I Believe You.

Johnny Depp x Reader

Johnny sighed as he rubbed his temples. His secret girlfriend was being paranoid... again. She told him that someone has been following her and her phone has been hacked.

Johnny shrugged her concerns away. He knew your condition of social anxiety. He knew your life story. Since he was working with your mean and strict father. He saw you as a child. He watched how rude and harsh both your brother and father was to you.

That caused his heart to shatter. Johnny's own mom was abusive. As soon as you became eighteen, he offered you a place to stay with him. Well...not really. Johnny Depp knew you were too scared to accept help from someone outside your family and you were shy. So, he indirectly threatened you to live. Johnny didn't mean to. But, you were foolish to refuse him.

As months went on, Johnny realized he loves you despite being much younger than him. You were legal but still much younger. After getting a job and ready to start college. Johnny begged you to stay with him and confessed. You were confused. Your strict father never let you date. So, you didn't know how to respond.

"It's okay, baby." Johnny pleaded as he gently grabbed your chin to look at him. "I know you never fell in love. But, I am willing to wait for you till you do realize that."

You agreed. Johnny let you go to college and he paid for everything. He put a restraining order against your brother and father. But, you have been getting bad feelings.

Johnny bit his lips in annoyance. He felt offended that you didn't rely on him. Sighing, he came back to his shared mansion with you.

He walked up the stairs.

"Lovely, you didn't reply my texts." He found you in the bedroom with your head hanging down.

You looked up with worry. "Did you send me these gifts?" You whispered.

Johnny frowned. He looked to see where you were gesturing. Roses that were black laid on the marble floor. Not old roses. They looked charred burned and weird porcelain dolls and clowns in boxes. Odd gifts. Too ugly too.

"The Fuck?" Johnny muttered. He usually sent you lingerie and fresh flowers and little jewelries.

Never this crap. He ran a hand through his hair. He looked at you seriously and asked for your phone.

You handed it to him. Johnny unlocked your screen since he knew all your passwords. He looked through texts. Your normal texts with him. Such as I love yous and how he would ask for nudes. But, there was a number he did not recognize. He clicked on it and saw pictures of couples kissing and some photo screenshots of what appeared to be from porn videos.

Johnny's breath hitched. You weren't paranoid. You had a stalker. You were being sexually harassed too.

He looked at you to see you hugging your body. Johnny sat next to you and pulled you to his muscled chest.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I should have believed you " He whispered into your soft hair locks.

That bastard was doing this for almost three months. Johnny took out your night medicine and placed the sleeping pills in your mouth. He made you drink water and then began to remove your clothes.

You let him tuck you in and felt his lips over your forehead before he turned off the lights.

Johnny still had your cellphone in his hand. Was this your family? No. It would be incestuous to send porn to your daughter or sister. It must be a man not related.

Johnny nodded. He needs to hire an investigator. Johnny was planning a vacation with you to propose. He will not let this monster ruin your already fragile mood. He wanted everything to be perfect as you agree to be his wife.

#johnny depp #johnny depp x reader #johnny depp imagine

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dreamteamspace · 4 years ago

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We hit 400 so here’s a- ✨ DREAM APPRECIATION ESSAY ✨

(by Yours Truly. Much thanks to the one, innocent anon who just wanted to ask a small talk question but hit my serotonin-providing hyperfixation.)

1. Self-esteem

I love the way he’s confident in his abilities when it’s become such a “trend” to either be completely and utterly self-depricating about your own skills out of fear of being labelled an asshole or overconfident nowadays.

At the same time you can still tell he doesn’t want to pull anyone down ever, and will always be really careful with that and take every oppertunity to lift up the people around him. Dream has a very emotional voice that gives him away a lot, so you can really tell he genuinely admires the people around him and he’s never afraid to say that they could totally easily beat him in something if he doesn’t have practice with it.

He tends to be a bit too hard on himself, so his friends always encourage him in his abilities, and that’s just. So nice. He celebrates his victories! He gets so so excited and happy when he wins in the manhunts, and I think celebrating your hard-earned victories isn’t something that should be villanized.

He won, and we should KNOW by now that doesn’t mean he thinks he’s somehow better than everyone. He has a pretty good eye on his abilities, and that allows him to really use them to the max.

2. Morality

He isn’t afraid to change the game! His adhd picks out a Cool New Thing and he just goes, You know what? Why not! His adhd goes “do this thing repeatedly another 3847 times” and he’s like, yeah sure!

Nobody expected him to release a song, but he just went for it! He’s been speedrunning so much, but he isn’t afraid to stream it every day 5 days in a row for hours while his friends bicker in the background.

Dream genuinely does the things he finds fun, but at the same time puts in so much effort to make them good and entertaining to watch and never forgets about his viewers.

He’s kidfriendly because he wants to be! Fame-wise, at this point he could definitly swear more if he wanted to (and he does when in other people’s content who don’t care about swearing), but despite that he doesn’t swear on his main because he wants his content to be accessable for everyone.

Sure, on one hand it could be for clout/money, but consider: Dream doesn’t stream the DSMP because he doesn’t want to take attention away from other people. He participates in the videos of his friends. He lets compilation channels and the like do whatever they want and even monetize his content. He lets his friends stream Road Trip on twitch as much as they want for free.

Dream doesn’t not swear just for his fanbase, but he does it because he has so so much respect for people. No matter how high he goes, he’s always consciously focused on respecting and admiring the people around him.

He has genuine respect for creators so much smaller than him, and he has respect for people in his fanbase that are younger than him. He isn’t afraid to go against the norm and STAND for that, either (see the video where he defends his stans).

And he defends his friends so much too! So much so it could almost be a little bit of a flaw sometimes, but I feel like he truly wants to learn from his mistakes. He apologizes for things even when nobody asked him to, and that just shows that he does it out of genuine guilt and fear of hurting someone.

He’s always seemed like someone who is genuinely willing to change to be a better version of himself, who isn’t afraid to challenge what he thinks and what other people think and what the norm thinks in order to improve everything for everyone.

Dream also doesn’t let any of the fame get to his head! As I said before - he’s confident in the things he’s good at, but in a way that doesn’t pull other people down, and he still remains firmly admirable of other people.

And even when OTHER people let fame get to their head (it was a while ago, but there was a video he made about five block jumps, where he added in a clip of a video of another guy doing it complete with credit and link etc. The guy was 100% alright with it at first, but when his video started getting more views because Dream’s video blew up, he started accusing Dream of “stealing” his content (when dozens of other videos of the 5 block jump already existed, and Dream could’ve just put in a clip of himself doing the jump)),,, but he insisted in his reponse that fame gets to people’s heads sometimes, nobody should blame anybody, he genuinely was never upset at him and just said that this just... happens sometimes.

He’s a very forgiving person all around, in part due to being willing to challenge his own norms and give people the benefit of the doubt JUST in case he’s wrong. He lets people enjoy things so long as they aren’t hurting anybody, like allowing people to ship him w people who are also alright with shipping, but at the same time taking a hard stance on, say, how shipping minors is absolutely wrong and should not be done ever (and he’s right).

3. Fandom

He appreciates said fanart and fanworks as well! He thinks dnf fanart is cool and he even appreciates the fanfic part of his fandom, something many ccs wish to ignore or forget it exists altogether (and it IS ofc in their right to do so or be uncomfortable with such content!), but Dream sees the work put into it and how people find connections and friendships through the fandom and appreciates it all the same.

He loves his fandom. So much. But not in the overdone, fake-feeling way I’ve seen other ccs be,,,, he’s just. Quiet and shy and genuine about it but not afraid to defend it.

He’s said before - and I QUOTE - “If you send hate to people or have sent hate to people, in the form of hateful comments or DMs, you aren’t welcome in my fandom. You’re no fan of mine”, which is the HOTTEST take he’s ever uttered and I love that. He really just went and said that. And he’s right. I like that despite how he’s usually more held back and waits things out before taking a stance, he chose this topic to really take a hard stance on and not budge and stick to it.

Pmbata has also said that he believes his fans have his back no matter what!! And that he really loves them a lot!!! And I am!! Emotional!!!!

4. ND/Adhd

He has adhd which is something I relate to personally (I have it as well sdlkfj). He gets excited sometimes!! I love how he shows being fidgety in mc, always pacing and parcouring around,, the way that in manhunts you can SEE when he’s thinking or bouncing back and forth between two options,,, or the way he gets close to people in mc to laugh with them.... He shows so much with his movements by them being quick and daring and calculated (and it’s especially hilarious to watch other people react to it in the video “mc but three people control one player”, where he’s the one moving and Sapnap and George will gasp or go “Dream!!” in surprise when Dream was THIS close to falling off a ledge, but he just laughs sdlkfjsdf).

When he’s not moving around he stands perfectly, perfectly still (which, idk if thats what all adhd ppl have, but I know I have something similar? Like when I’m nervous I’ll sometimes just. Freeze in place. No movement at all). He’s just relatable sdkjf.

There was one Manhunt extra scenes where he,,,,, stims by clapping,,,,,, the lil excited clap in the background,,, I’m gonna cry. I’m so soft for excited Dream that one is such a comfort clip for me!

He also tends to stim by getting under trap doors and then jumping back out of them, or jumping up a block and then walking back down over and over (especially noticable in The Village Went Mad tftsmp episode, where they were all discussing who the murderer could be and he was the only one moving, hopping up the log and then running back down again).

Also it is. Really Soft when he starts rambling and overexplaining something. What’s even better is that George, who is usually present at such moments, will laugh a little at his antics, and Dream will automatically laugh with him.

5. Rp/Uplifting other ccs

Dream wasn’t all THAT into the rp at first, but his server has been so strongly supporting and giving attention to smaller creators that he’s since completely rolled along with it. Being a villain in the RP is a difficult role because you will, inevitable, as much as it is just roleplay and all scripted, always get some amount of dislike from people for it.

Despite that, he’s basicly the main big villain on his own server where he let a bunch of theater kids beat him up in character and imprison him on his OWN SERVER. He wasn’t as into the rp at first, but has obviously been practicing and joins every Tales of the SMP when he can, despite getting zero clout for it.

What Dream also tends to do is find small content creators, see their talent and lift them high. His entire discord server is dedicated to give smaller ccs a place to grow, and when he first found Tubbo, Tommy, Ranboo, etc., they were much much smaller than they are now. He truly wanted to help them make it big.

He’s also added Foolish Shark and Hannah onto the SMP, both much smaller ccs (not tiny, but you get what I mean), allowing them to grow. He doesn’t stream on his OWN SERVER. He let himself get imprisoned to let the good guys win on his OWN. SERVER. He’s willing to play the villain and everything.

An interesting thing though! A lot of people used to/still do clown on Dream a bit for his sometimes uncertain acting,,, but when he’s around people he knows well (Sapnap and George, Tubbo and Tommy) we’ve seen him go ALL OUT. I have the theory Dream might be genuinely afraid to accidentally be mean to someone in character and have them misinterpret it sldkfjsdf,,, so he’s rly careful when he goes into the rp, and sometimes even when he’s in it he goes quiet, especially with other people around.

But also the fact that he needs time to feel comfortable around ppl is,, a mood,,, and adorable,,, sdlfkjsdf-

Apparently he’s also shared his youtube algorithm secrets with Tommy?? Which he had only shared with Sapnap and George before?? Dream took one look at that chaotic kid and immedietly adopted him as his little brother. He literally got up super early to rp the prison visit. Idk about ya’ll but I would die for someone first and get up horribly early for them second-

6. Friends!!

Dream?? Considers so so many people his friends?? And despite having so many friends, he also has his few closest friends (George and Sapnap) whom he would absolutely die for in a heartbeat. He WILL defend them with everything he has and loves them so so much.

He listens to them and really, truly wants them to succeed. He respects them so much and will go OFF about how good they actually are and how talented they are and how important they are to him.

I can’t even COVER everything about how much he is SOULMATES with Gorg. They live in each others heads rent-free. He mentions him all the time. They get!! So happy when they’re around each other!!! Their voices get so soft,,

And I can’t even BEGIN to explain the energy of Sapnap and Dream just moving together permanently. Imagine moving together with your best friend. Like, permanently. Into one house. They’re best friends Your Honor,,,,

Also,, remember the Techno and Dream rivalry? And Dream has recently said that he’s hesitant to make a serious manhunt against Techno because he doesn’t want there to be any feud between them or have them be compared to each other. He said that while he absolutely wanted nothing more than to beat Techno at first, now that he knows him better he just wants to be friends with him. He wants to be FRIENDS. With his, essentially, mc RIVAL. Friendly rival, but still. He doesn’t even wanna fight Techno or have ppl compare them cause he,,, wants to be friends with him,,,,

7. Vulnerability

What I feel like really sets Dream apart from some other ccs for me is that he’s willing to be vulnerable. He will tell George he loves him. He defends his friends. He sounds so, so genuine when he tells his fandom that he loves them.

What’s just really rare to see, especially in male ccs, is that vulnerability. It’s becoming more acceptable as time goes on, but it’s certainly not easy, and a lot of people become and stay long-term fans BECAUSE they can see how genuine he is.

I know Dream looks up to Mr. Beast a lot, for example, but honestly? I think he’s a little better than Mr. Beast. Because he feels more genuine, more bound to what he believes is right. I’m sure Mr. Beast isn’t a bad content creator! But ultimately they have different target audiences and I’m very glad Dream is the way he is.

Less of that insecure masculinity and more willing to be vulnerable, to care about things, to get emotional and to encourage and uplift the people around him.

8. Pure Brainrot

Green boi has nice deep calm soothing voice. Little shy laugh. Wheeze laugh. Gorg live in his head rent-free. He lov friends. He lov block game. He good at block game,,, a little shy but confident,,, big heart,,,, soft voice,,,,, rambles sometimes....

He also Gender. He’s so gender. I don’t know how else to describe it. I want That. Whatever That is. My gender is Dreamwastaken

#mcyt #mcytblr #dreamwastaken #dream #dream appreciation #long post #dreamteamspace speaks #space writes #yes this goes in my writing tag #this is Way too many words to only be in my normal tag #but how many dream apreciation essays have you written fear huh? Huh?? /lh #mr beast critical #adhd tw #adhd #just in case?

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lured-into-wonderland · 3 months ago

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Yes, whatever Echidna was speaking made p e r f e c t sense. As Nunnally was pondering her words about princesses and clowns, about the 'old' and the 'new' world, she was still looking at the mirror; admiring herself. And the more she looked, the more she liked what she was seeing. As Echidna was adding small adjustments onto her attire, changing small details here and there, Nunnally did admit her new outfit was perhaps better than the dresses she used to wear. Or at least better in some ways. Oh yes, she was adjusting pretty fast.

Her waist was thin, her long legs looked even longer. And slimer. She was pretty, she was adorable. She was something men would definitely want. Alhough she only wanted one man, Regulus Corneas, she had no qualms to play with others if they turned to be foolish enough to recklessly fall for PRIDE. After all, Regulus betrayed her.

“If classics still works…I am good with classics…” – and yes, she was. It was interesting to know that was still a case. She unbuttoned one, and after a short while of hesitation, another button of her shirt to show a bit more of her perfect white skin.

“That’s better…” – she hummed to herself rather glad, but Echidna’s comments about Regulus partially wiped her smile off her lips. She might have been missing (dead) for centuries, but it was still disappointing that it was Echidna who looked for her and not her husband. Like any other women could substitute her.

“I am not sure.” – she stated honestly; Echidna might have been the only creature with whom Nunnally was sometimes fully honest with. As if she considered her a part of herself – “I don’t think I want to go back to the past…arrangements with Reg again.” – it wasn’t that she didn’t love him – “It isn’t that I don’t love him. I do and he’s still the only man I want…”

“…but this time I want him on my own terms.” – yes, it would be better; nicer for her – “I don’t want to be a perfect princess in his perfect castle. I think…I’d rather not be a princess at all…this time…in this world…”

"Not that Reg was ever a perfect prince, if you understand what I mean."

“Does he still have any power over me? Or would he still need to claim me again?” – it was an interesting thought that perhaps everything needed to start again. But Nunnally couldn’t give it more thinking as in mere seconds they were standing in front of the club.

‘GREED’ was what the sign said.

“Greed.” – Nunnally read – “It’s so much like him.” – she sighed, but Echidna could say there was so much gentleness and softness in her voice – “After all, it’s what he is. And always was.” - sometimes it seemed like Regulus was more of a greed than a witch of greed herself.

Nunnally followed Echidna as she entered the club. She was hesitant, though. Nunnally wasn’t sure if she was ready to meet her husband. After all these years. If he was still her husband at all. Did he even remember her? Or did he indulge in his new life? In its pleasures and new opportunities that it had to offer. Though it was offering these opportunities to her as well. It wasn’t long before Nunnally noticed how Echidna and she were looked at. These looks should make her blush (and they probably would in the past), but now she was rather enjoying them.

She was ADJUSTING rather quickly.

It was not long before she saw him (but hopefully Regulus did not see them). Surrounded by beautiful women (but not as beautiful as her). As expected.

“Shall we get a drink?” – she asked Echidna; she was to do different this time. He could wait.

#echidna #regulus #nunnally #fallesto #greed #nun is furious #watch out reg!

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kazuharem · 4 years ago

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"Forever and Always” ↠ [FLUFF]

Genre: Drabble, Fluff, tiniest bit of angst

Pairing: Lucien x MC (Female)

Description: Lucien’s wedding day. That’s it

Summary: The happiest day of Lucien’s life.

Word Count: 2,008

Author’s Note: You guys requested for me to make Lucien happy and-

Oops my fingers slipped. So here’s happy Lucien 😊

Also, happy birthday to the love of my life. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever loved a 2D man as much as I do him, but here I am... ʅ(́◡◝)ʃ *puts on clown makeup*

Happy Birthday Lucien! 💜

[DISCLAIMER] I do not own the pictures, characters, or song. The only thing I own is the plot.

You're the first face that I see And the last thing I think about You're the reason that I'm alive You're what I can't live without

You never give up When I'm falling apart Your arms are always open wide And you're quick to forgive When I make a mistake You love me in the blink of an eye

I don't deserve your love But you give it to me anyway Can't get enough You're everything I need And when I walk away You take off running and come right after me It's what you do And I don't deserve you

You're the light inside my eyes You give me a reason to keep trying You give me more than I could dream And you bring me to my knees You bring me to my knees

Your heart is gold and how am I the one That you've chosen to love I still can't believe that you're right next to me After all that I've done

I don't deserve a chance like this I don't deserve a love that gives me everything You're everything I want

“Don’t Deserve You” - Plumb

A figure in a light gray tuxedo examined his reflection silently as he adjusted his tie. He studied his fully dressed self in the mirror, making sure that not even a hair was out of place. When the man was finally satisfied, he met his reflection fully. Lavender met lavender. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Lucien exhaled. He had never seen such a myriad of expressions on his face before. Apprehension, nervousness, happiness, and perhaps just a touch of excitement. Lucien smiled wryly. He looked like a fool stupidly in love.

Love.

What a seemingly absurd concept. Something he had never believed in. Until now. Until her.

He gazed at himself, eyes glimmering with faint excitement and he chuckled. “What have you become?” He asked himself quietly. “Look at you…believing in some crazy concept.” The tone in his voice was deprecating.

He could never imagine it. A beautiful woman in a white dress walking down the aisle. A pair of rings. Vows that spoke of forever. A companion for a lifetime. The sort of things he had never dared to want for himself.

And why should he?

Lucien had always been alone and quite frankly; it was easier this way. Doing the things he wanted to accomplish by himself. No one to argue with him. No one to get in his way. The research that spoke of advancement for the human race. Ever since the tender age of seven, he has always done things on his own. It was something he was familiar with, loneliness accepted as his way of life, and he was content to live with that fact.

Until he met her.

What was supposed to be a mere task of awakening the Queen’s powers morphed into cozy movie nights on his couch. Running for shelter from a surprise rainstorm. Sunny afternoons filled with delighted laughter. The anticipation of having someone wait for him.

Before long, she had replaced the emptiness inside him with a warmth that spread throughout him, spouting feelings of blossoming love that she had carefully sowed within him.

Lucien had found himself opening up to her. He had found himself wanting to know every little detail that made her so unique in his world.

And then there were the colors.

He had been thoroughly dazzled when he could see the prismatic colors of a rainbow for the first time. She had brought color into his bleak black-and-white world, something he had previously thought impossible. But she had accomplished the impossible. She had shown him a brand new world. And it was absolutely beautiful.

She had gone against his expectations. Gone against his point of view that humans were weak and only the strongest got to evolve. She had stood up to him, while holding her own ground.

Even after he had betrayed her, even after all the things he had done as Ares, she was still willing to welcome him into her arms. She was still able to see his side of things and yet, still loved him.

He remembered the moment she had stood up to him, defiant and strong.

“I wouldn’t. If I had the gift of prophecy and knew all kinds of secrets and knowledge…if I had faith to move mountains, but didn’t have love… Then none of it would count for anything. Even if the light’s source is put out, I’d still try to keep my own shining. No matter how difficult, or how dark it gets. Or how foolish or ridiculous.”

He could hear those very words.

“Silly girl,” Lucien murmured as he recalled the memory.

They had gone through all sorts of trials and tribulations and now they were here, at the cusp of a future Lucien had never thought he would achieve in this lifetime. But she had made it all possible.

After Black Swan had no more, there was one evening she had fallen asleep in his arms. And as Lucien gazed at the peacefully slumbering girl, he was struck with a desperate need to keep her in his arms, to want her to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up and the last thing he sees before going to sleep. The urge consumed him, until it was the only thing he could think of.

The next day, he had impulsively stepped into a jewelry shop. When he set his sights upon a pearlescent stone which scattered rainbows when met with light, he knew. That very night, he had knelt before her and asked her to spend the rest of her life with him.

Was he selfish?

Lucien frowned, and the face in the mirror mimicked him, brow scrunching up with distaste.

Don’t be foolish, Ares, look at all you have done. Do you think you deserve such happiness?

A voice, poisonous yet alluring, pricked at the back of his mind.

He watched himself as his hand curled slowly into a fist. Did he? Did he deserve to live this happy and loving life?

That is nothing but a distant pipedream, and you know it, the voice sneered. It taunted him, reminded him of all his faults.

His fist shook as his mouth parted, letting out a silent cry of pain.

Selfish. Foolish Ares. To think you are deserving of happiness-

A sudden knock at the door interrupted the drowning tirade.

And then-

“Lucien?”

Her voice, like a blessed rainstorm after a long drought, washed away the lingering traces of the poisonous voice.

“C-come in,” Lucien cleared his throat.

The door swung up open gently and all the toxic thoughts were immediately wiped from Lucien’s mind.

She walked into the room and the sight of her made Lucien’s entire being swell with a familiar warmth that he’s learned to associate with her.

She was breathtaking. And she looked the epitome of a dream Lucien didn’t dare dream. Didn’t dare hope for. But all the same, had desperately searched for.

“You-” Lucien exhaled and walked slowly towards her. “You are beautiful…” there was wonder laced in his voice. Her cheeks reddened prettily at his words. “You are so beautiful…” he whispered in awe.

He could feel the corners of his eyes prick.

He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve her.

But that did not stop him from wanting to.

“The photographer is waiting for us to take our pictures before the ceremony,” She fidgeted nervously as she smiled shyly, and Lucien’s heart nearly threw itself against his chest at the sight. She finally looked him in the eye and tilted her head curiously. “Are you ready?”

Lucien did not speak, couldn’t speak as he tugged her gently into his arms.

“Lucien?” She asked, voice slightly muffled by his shoulder.

“Shhh…” he murmured, and his voice is raw, thick with unspoken emotion. He buried his nose into her hair, inhaling her familiar scent. “Let’s just-stay like this for a little bit…” His shoulders began to tremble, and she belatedly realized that Lucien was crying.

“Lucien-” she struggled to turn to look at him, but he firmly kept her head tucked under his chin.

The sight of her in the white wedding dress evoked faint memories that he thought he had long forgotten. The feeling of his mother’s hand as she petted him, calling him “My Little Prince.” The pooling of his father’s big lab coat around Lucien’s tiny frame as he read voraciously through a textbook, undoubtedly much too advanced for a five-year-old. Lucien remembered his father looking on proudly. He remembered the warm afternoons of relaxing in the park when his parents took the day off to spend with him.

Lucien remembered being loved.

He sucked in a shaky breath as he pressed soft kisses against the crown of her head. “Thank you,” he breathed, his words a gentle puff of air.

She didn’t question him and only wrapped her arms around him. Lucien felt warm all over.

The couple stayed in that position for several moments until Lucien broke away slightly, “Shall we?” He asked, “Isn’t the photographer waiting?”

She huffed at him and he smiled, tweaking her nose gently. Lucien pulled her close, his hands naturally finding purchase on her waist as he led her out the door. They walked down the path where weeping wisteria hung above their heads, creating a lilac, perfumed shelter.

Lucien could see their photographer waiting in the distance.

He suddenly stopped and grabbed her wrist, spinning her into his arms.

“Lucien! People are waiting for us!” She cried out with surprise.

“They can wait a little longer,” Lucien declared, a hint of mischievous creeping into his voice. “It’s our wedding, after all.”

She pouted at him and Lucien grinned broadly. “I have something I want to say. And I want only you to hear these words,” Lucien started quietly, the teasing tone easing into one that was more serious.

She nodded and Lucien could see the blind trust and unconditional love in those beautiful eyes.

He took a deep breath, “When it comes to you, I seem to have planned many beginnings, but I can never predict the endings,” Lucien began, and her eyes widened.

Somewhere, a photographer was holding his camera anxiously, as he looked around for any sign of the couple.

Somewhere, a group of guests were sitting in confusion, wondering when the ceremony was going to begin.

Somewhere, a certain CEO was looking at his watch impatiently, brows furrowed in annoyance.

Somewhere, a certain police officer was bouncing his leg in anxiety, secretly wondering if anything had happened to the bride.

Somewhere, a certain idol was waiting restlessly on stage, ready to give the happy couple a wedding performance.

But all these people did not matter to Lucien as he continued.

“I purposely tried to distance myself from you. It’s not that you did anything wrong. It was…safer. For you. Before I met you, I disliked the idea of having a companion. We all have our own destinations, and if I had to match my steps with anyone else’s, I’d walk much slower. But as I walked my path alone, every time I turned around…I’d always find that you had caught up with me. This time is no different. You’re the only one in the world whom I’d gladly turn around for. Or…you’re the only one who could catch up to me and remain by my side. You are the first person I want to see in the morning and the last at night. Thank you for bringing color into my world. Thank you for loving me. I promise to keep you safe, to keep you happy. I promise I will take your love to give me hope, give me joy, and make me a better man. So, from now on, I’ll never let go.”

Lucien paused, gazing into her now watery eyes. He leaned in closer until their noses touched and their breaths mingled.

“I love you, forever and always.”

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

The companion fic to his birthday karma “Cozy Day” will be coming soon!

I love this man so much, y’all don’t understand the amount of love I have for him, okay 😌 Paper Games, let my mans be happy for once pls

For more of my work: 📖

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patchwork-panda · 4 years ago

Text

Thirsty... (Kunikidazai smut)

Kunikida awoke to a hand slipping under his shirt. He stirred softly as that hand slowly glided up his abdomen, flitted over the contours of his ribs and stopped only when it reached his chest. He sighed as the hand began feeling up his muscles.

“Good morning, Dazai…”

The voice that responded was bright and clear, unlike Kunikida’s, which was nothing more than a low rumble, still thick from sleep.

Clearly Dazai had been awake for some time already.

“Good morning, Kunikiiiida-kun,” Dazai chirped, still feeling up his boyfriend’s chest like it was a favorite toy he liked to play with (which it kind of was).

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

He didn’t sound sorry in the least, Kunikida thought to himself with a frown.

Blearily, he reached over to grab his phone and his frown deepened into a scowl when he saw the time.

“There’s a little less than an hour before the alarm goes off,” Kunikida growled. “Go back to sleep, Dazai.”

“But I’m thirsty,” Dazai whined.

“There’s a full glass of water on your nightstand. Go drink it and go back to sleep.”

“Not that kind…”

And as Dazai’s voice dropped to a low, sultry whisper, two fingers found Kunikida’s nipple and pinched it just lightly enough to get his attention.

Kunikida stiffened.

“Dazai… we have work soon.”

“Two hours isn’t soon.” “The alarm’s going off in an hour,” Kunikida sighed, “Once it goes off, we need to shower, brush our teeth, get dressed, eat breakfast, make lunch--There’s simply not enough time--”

“Then why don’t we shower together,” Dazai pointed out, not pausing in his molestation of Kunikida’s chest, “ask Atsushi-kun to make a convenience store run for us, get lunch at Uzumaki later--”

“I will not have you bullying our junior like that,” Kunikida snapped, swatting Dazai’s hand away at last.

He rearranged his shirt and tried to shift himself in a way that Dazai couldn’t reach his chest. But with Dazai spooning him from behind like this and the man’s limbs being extraordinarily long and flexible, his efforts were proving futile.

He turned his face away as Dazai’s hand slipped back inside his shirt and began slowly slipping downwards towards his navel. His face warmed. He could feel his resolve crumbling as his body began responding to the man’s touch.

“In any case, the budget doesn’t allow for extra meal expense this month--”

“So we put it on next month’s tab…”

Dazai’s hand was traveling further south with each word.

“You’re going to get sleepy in the middle of the day,” Kunikida insisted, hating the way his breath hitched as Dazai’s hand finally found the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

A single long, thin finger dipped underneath the band and Kunikida nearly swore.

“Y-you’re going to fall asleep at your desk--or try to hog the couch in the client booth so you can take a nap--”

Kunikida swallowed, his protests sounding weaker and weaker even to his own ears.

“We simply don’t have the time --”

His sentence ended on a gasp. Dazai had found his boyfriend’s half-hard cock and was now squeezing it very, very tightly.

He shuddered as Dazai’s voice sounded low in his ear. The man’s own rock-hard erection was pressed into the small of his back like a steel pipe.

“I never said I was planning to take my time with you.”

He punctuated the statement with a bite and Kunikida hissed as Dazai’s teeth sank into his earlobe.

It wasn’t often that Dazai got like this. Just the other night, he was playing the part of a petulant child, draped all over Kunikida’s broad shoulders when the blonde was trying to read and whining about being neglected. He kept at it until Kunikida finally had enough and threw him onto the couch to give the man the kind of “attention” he wanted.

Dazai so rarely took what he wanted from Kunikida, generally preferring to be serviced or taken himself. But this morning…

Kunikida groaned as his boyfriend’s hand tightened further, almost painfully so, around his cock and began pumping.

While he didn’t get to see it very often, this side of Dazai was nice every once in a while. Kept him on his toes. Or more like his knees…

He shuddered as Dazai continued to mouth at his ear, nibbling and sucking at that sensitive bit of flesh like he was determined to leave it so red and raw that Kunikida might be forced to leave his hair down for once.

Yes, this was a reminder that while Dazai so often preferred to wear the mask of a clown in public and keep his cards close to his chest, just beneath the surface of that smiling, foolish facade was a mind so brilliant, it often seemed vicious in its cunning. And damn it if Kunikida didn’t find that hot as hell …

Another sharp nip at his badly smarting earlobe and Dazai moved on to Kunikida’s neck. The taller man shivered as Dazai swiftly brushed the long blonde hairs aside and yanked down the collar of his partner’s nightshirt to expose one sturdy well-muscled shoulder. He heard Dazai’s sharp intake of breath just before the brunette latched onto his neck.

Kunikida winced.

Indeed, Dazai could be downright sadistic when he wanted to be… How many times had he seen the man break an informant with words alone? How many times had he lobbed irritating comments in Kunikida’s direction just to see him squirm? And how many times had he tried to push Kunikida away before finally he accepted the blonde’s feelings as well as his own…?

He moaned--loudly--as Dazai found that one spot between the junction of his Kunikida’s neck and shoulder and immediately flushed as he heard--or rather, felt --the inevitable chuckle that followed immediately after.

“Mm… Kunikida-kun is getting so hard for me,” Dazai breathed, the subtle vibrations of his voice sending shivers down the taller man’s spine.

“ So hard .”

And as he spoke, Kunikida felt his body respond, his cock rising and swelling to fit the Dazai’s hand as if it knew exactly where it belonged. He bit back another moan as the hand relentlessly squeezing and pulling him grew steadily slicker from his own fluids.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to take your time with me?” Kunikida wondered aloud, gasping as Dazai’s teeth found that spot on his neck again.

“Oh, is that a request?”

Another bite.

“Am I going too slow for you, Kunikiiiiida-kunnn~?”

He gasped sharply as Dazai started pumping faster, doubling over as waves of pleasure coursed through him. Dazai’s chuckles echoed in his ear.

“There.” Dazai’s voice was low, husky, sweet.

“Is that better?”

Dazai’s fingers were squeezing him so tightly, their rhythm so steady and controlled. A stark contrast to the bites and nips that seemed to come out of nowhere and were steadily covering Kunikida’s upper body in angry red marks.

All the while, Dazai just kept pumping...

Kunikida let out another low moan.

His nightshirt had practically been torn off. He could see a couple of buttons lying on the sheets in front of him as Dazai’s free hand continued to caress his chest and abs. Pressure was building in his lower body and Kunikida’s breathing was starting to come in sharp, labored gasps.

But just when Kunikida thought he wasn’t going to last much longer, Dazai abruptly stopped. He pressed his thumb against the tip of Kunikida’s cock, squeezing just a tiny bit more liquid out of the slit, then slowly moved to rub that thumb over the head of Kunikida’s steadily dripping manhood.

“D-Dazai…”

His face felt hot. Why in God’s name did he sound so much like he was begging?

“What--”

“Shh…”

Dazai’s lips were soft as he pressed a kiss to Kunikida’s bite-riddled shoulder. The first kiss of the morning. His shoulders ached.

“Call me Osamu, my love.”

Another kiss. Another flick of his thumb. Kunikida moaned.

“You know you want to.”

“O-Osamu…” Kunikida gasped, burying his face completely into his pillow when he heard just how desperate he sounded.

“Mm. That’s a good man.”

And with that, Dazai took his free hand, yanked down the waistband of Kunikida’s underwear, followed shortly by his own, and carefully positioned himself against the entrance. Kunikida shot one look over his own bruised shoulder and nearly regretted it. In the weak light of early morning, the eyes of the man behind him looked pitch-black...

Dazai licked his lips.

“And you are such a good man.”

He started pushing himself in.

“ Doppo. ”

It hurt. Not a lot but it was just uncomfortable enough that Kunikida remembered Dazai hadn’t done a thing to prepare him this morning. Still, at least Dazai was giving him a chance to adjust before pushing further in and it wasn’t long until he was buried all the way inside.

Kunikida shuddered as Dazai began moving his hand--the hand that had never actually left Kunikida’s cock--again.

And then Dazai began moving as well.

A curse ripped its way out of his throat.

“ Fuck .”

Sweat beaded on his brow as Dazai’s movements slowly synchronized. The brunette’s free hand was once again ghosting up Kunikida’s chest, palming at his abdomen, feeling the way Kunikida’s muscles strained and flexed whenever he so much as took in a breath. His clothes and the thin blankets once covering them were long since gone. Strands of long blonde hair were falling into his open mouth. The light in the room was slowly growing brighter but without his glasses, Kunikida couldn’t properly see--he could only feel. And what he felt was full .

“ Fuck …!”

Dazai was hitting something deep inside him that so rarely got the attention it needed and he cursed again as Dazai bucked his hips in yet another sharp, powerful thrust.

Dazai’s voice was breathy, he was laughing or gasping or both.

He was loving this.

Kunikida had no idea where Dazai’s shirt had gone. Maybe he’d gone to sleep without it or maybe he’d taken it off while he was playing with Kunikida just minutes--or was it hours ago? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was that Dazai’s bare chest was sticking to his exposed back and he could hear skin slapping against skin in a hot, wet, lewd way that had no right sounding as loud as it did in the early hours before the sun came up.

And speaking of loud…

He had no idea he could make the kind of sounds that were echoing off the walls. The neighbors were sure to come knocking any minute-- how was Dazai forcing these kinds of noises out of his mouth?!

“You sound like you’re enjoying yourself,” Dazai panted, dark eyes glinting.

Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? Kunikida longed to say but all that came out of his mouth was another breathless moan.

Dazai laughed again. Breathier this time, less controlled. They were getting close, Kunikida could feel it. Pressure was steadily building in his cock again--enough to make him burst--and Dazai’s pace was growing oddly frenzied. Without warning, Dazai suddenly let out a shout. Heat exploded deep inside his body and with one last, final tug, Kunikida came shortly after, spilling all over Dazai’s hand and onto the bedsheets with a low, heady groan.

His energy spent, Kunikida strained to look at the man clinging tightly to his back. Brown, tousled, sweaty bangs fell against Kunikida’s reddened shoulder, the bite marks more evident than ever in the light of the steadily rising sun. He could hear Dazai still straining to catch his breath and his lips twitched upwards in a half-smile at the thought of his boyfriend spending all of what little physical stamina he had just to satisfy this one impulsive need.

He felt Dazai peel himself away and shuddered as the man slowly took out his steadily deflating rod, leaving a trail of sticky, pungent, white all over Kunikida’s backside and the short stretch of sweaty sheets between them. Mumbling something unintelligible under his breath, Dazai reached over and tugged the taller man onto his back. Kunikida grimaced; the sheets were cold and wet and were sticking unpleasantly to his backside.

He let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Satisfied?” he asked, turning to the brunette now happily resting a hot, flushed cheek against his broad, bare chest.

Yawning, Dazai wrapped his arms around Kunikida’s shoulders and nodded.

“Good.”

And as Dazai’s breathing slowly settled into a slow, steady rhythm, a small, secretive smile crossed Kunikida’s face. He pressed a kiss to Dazai’s forehead, settled his head back onto the pillows and closed his eyes.

But just as Kunikida was drifting off to sleep at last, the alarm went off.

He groaned.

Laughing, Dazai drew Kunikida a little bit closer and nestled his head a little more comfortably in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck.

“Looks like we had enough time after all.”

#kunikidazai #kunikida doppo #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #kunikida x dazai #dazai x kunikida #bsd kunikida doppo #bsd dazai osamu #bsd kunikida #bsd dazai #dazai #kunikida #fanfiction #bungo stray dogs

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fleckcmscott · 4 years ago

Text

After

Summary: Arthur is heartened to have Y/N back by his side. But moving forward isn't as simple as he'd daydreamed.

Warnings: Adult situations, Swearing

Words: 3,391

A/N: This request comes from @jokerownsmysoul! It's a continuation of Ch. 23 of Watch What Happens and takes off right after the last paragraph. Funnily enough, when Karen originally beta'd that chapter she said, "Where's their conversation? Oh, well, I guess it's implied." 😄 Special thanks to Domino, aka @thegirlwho, (who also wanted their conversation 😂) for sharing her point of view and helping me see things from a different perspective.

A good portion of my life is the exploding head emoji right now, so it's been a while since I've posted. However, I'm still here. Still writing. Still trying. Work on the new multi-chapter continues. If you've got any requests, let me know. Your patience, support, and you mean a lot to me. Thank you.

Nimble fingers twined through his loose, brown curls, a gentle tug as lips met and parted, met and parted. Her body surrounding that soft, most intimate part of him was visceral. Warm and wet. "I love you" fell from her mouth. Once, twice, more than the walls of his apartment had ever heard. He swallowed but was unable to murmur an appropriate reply. She came back, his mind affirmed. She came back.

Shit, I haven't mopped for a week.

Arthur braced himself on his knees and elbows to look down at her. The notched collar of Y/N's blouse had somehow remained uncrumpled. Strands of her hair fanned out messily over the beige, aged hexagons of the kitchen linoleum. Her tears had reduced to stains on her flushed cheeks. He brushed them away with the back of his knuckles. She'd said he hadn't hurt her, that she was happy. Both good things. If he could figure out the next step...

His eyes flitted back and forth between hers, brows pinched. Moving to kneel, he tucked himself back into his briefs, pulled his light blue pajama bottoms over his rear, then ran his hands along his thighs. "Have you had dinner?"

Buoyant laughter left her as she propped herself on her forearms. "I'm famished. Especially after that." She extended her hand and he accepted it gladly. When she started to pull herself up, he grabbed the other. Her kitten-heels slid the weave rug along the floor; it took some effort for her to get her footing. Once she stood, she tied the drawstring of his pants and adjusted her skirt. "Be right back," she said and scurried to the bathroom.

The thud of the door closing cleared the awe from head. He'd rather have kept it. Changes in mood were typical as of late. The bliss of her return was already twisting into dread. No longer consumed by the need to be inside her, his mind conjured questions, too many to brush off. He turned the knob of the toaster over. Studied the orange glow of its heating element. Had charity - or worse, pity - caused her return? Had distress afflicted her as deeply as it had him? Had she thought of him half as much as he'd thought of her?

Was she going to abandon him again?

He suddenly felt very silly and quite small for allowing himself a modicum of relief. Nothing had been clarified. By having a quickie on the floor after they'd barely exchanged a word, he'd set himself up to be hurt. The way he had when he'd kissed Helen, or when he'd considered Randall his friend, or when he'd believed, for one foolish minute, that Murray might be kind. He flinched against the fury simmering in his stomach. That same panic and anger from when Y/N had walked out of his apartment and, he'd been convinced, his life. He clutched the counter's curved edge so hard his fingertips went numb.

But then she curled herself into his side and squeezed him tight about the waist. Her blithe bearing was almost enough to quiet his tumult. "Anything I can help with?"

"No." He moved to dig through the freezer. Beans and franks with a brownie. English style fish 'n' chips. His mother's favorite, meatloaf. Only the teal packaging made them appealing. He grimaced at the meager offerings. He snatched one from the door, held it out with some trepidation. It was possible the gel-like gravy, slices of turkey roll, and drowned stuffing wouldn't put Y/N off. "Um, this was on sale. I bought a few."

"It's perfect." She accepted the carton and tore it open. "I heard a song on the radio yesterday that made me think of you."

"Oh yeah?" He closed the door of the toaster and set the timer with a flick of the wrist.

"The man was singing that his name was Carnival. That's your clown name, right?" She chuckled, dragged the black, wooden stool from under the counter, and perched on it. "It reminded me of the subway." A flirty pinch to his abdomen. "And that I still have to see one of your performances."

Arthur scoffed and averted his gaze, struggled to push through his anxiety and enjoy her. But he wasn't the type of man to let questions lie. When he'd gotten the courage to ask Y/N on a date, he'd taken the risk. When he'd read Penny's letter, he'd hopped on the first train to Wayne Manor. After the confrontation in Wayne Hall, he'd gone to Arkham and stolen that wretched file.

His curiosity tended to pick wounds that hadn't yet healed over.

The warmth of her hand met his back. "Thank you for giving me time."

The tenderness of her tone loosened the clench of his jaw. But he still couldn't bring himself to look at her. He'd done what she'd requested, because he'd feared mistakes would drive her further away, not because he'd wanted to or understood. He wondered if someone without a mental illness would have behaved differently. She'd pleaded with him to listen, kissed him goodbye, then left like it was nothing.

Whatever the case, her appreciation felt wrong. He didn't need gratitude. He needed answers. He inhaled sharply. "Why did you go?"

She traced the knobs of his spine. "I had to figure out the best way to be with you."

"Am I that hard to be with?" he bit out.

"Of course not. That's not what I said."

He gulped and released a ragged breath. "It broke my fucking-" He faltered when his voice cracked.

"Arthur, I didn't want to hurt you. I'm sorry." Her embrace was tight, a welcome pressure on his ribs despite the ache. Her palm slid up his sternum. "I was afraid to do more harm than good." He should have contradicted her, told her she was crazy if she believed loving him would damage him. But he stopped himself when she nuzzled his bicep. It was a while before she cleared her throat. "I love you more than I imagined possible." She giggled, then, and sniffed. "Which isn't bad for six weeks, Mr. Fleck."

Tears threatened as his eyelids fluttered. He managed to keep them at bay, covering her hand with his to distract himself. He pressed it tighter to him, until he thought her fingers might break through his chest. Finally, he met her stare. Found it full of love and what might have been joy at being together. In that moment, he knew nothing would ever separate his heart from hers.

~~~~~

"Christmas is coming up. Let me know what you'd like to do."

Arthur's slight nod was typical of their conversation this evening. Well, that wasn't quite fair. More like half of it. He'd been vacillating between bouts of confidence and timidity, with the latter tending to win out. He'd put his arm around her, examined the latest issue of TV Guide, and asked what she'd preferred to watch. She'd let him choose; he'd picked a three-hour variety show. Minutes later, he'd been squished into the corner of the sofa, legs neatly crossed with his hands clasped in his lap. She'd risen to refresh their ice teas, and he'd halted her with a kiss to her knuckles and his handsome grin. Upon her return, he'd focused on the floor and kept quiet. The changes were difficult to predict.

At least the periods of stillness made it easy for her to reflect, even as those reflections weren't entirely pleasant. She'd had faith in his ability to take care of himself and his judgment to reach out to her if he was in crisis. And while she had no regrets about taking five days to ensure she could sustain their relationship, she lamented the pain it had caused him. She'd detected it in his stiff posture in the kitchen. Seen it in his glistening eyes. Sensed it in his inconsistent reluctance to be touched.

It had been hard for her, too. The absence of their nightly calls, of shared laughter, of his presence had been keen. She would have returned to him without receiving his letter. But the ink on the page, with its occasional misspellings and earnest admissions ("I don't kno if I'm doing this right but I want to try. Maybe you want to try with me, to?") had prompted her to run to the subway before she'd taken off her coat. Confirmed that despite their differences, them being opposite in many ways, their hearts were the same.

He perked up slightly when the next performer came on, an old man from Whitefish, Montana and his paper mache ventriloquist dummy. Y/N's attention drifted to Arthur as he leaned forward onto his knees. Though the act was nothing special - terrible jokes, drinking water while the puppet talked, strumming a ukulele as it sang - his face crinkled in amusement. "They just have regular people on there," he said. "I haven't seen anyone from Gotham. I should try out."

Thankful he was focused on the show and not her, she pursed her lips. Had he forgotten how Murray had gone? Or Pogo's? Then again, he'd believed both had gone great. And she wanted him to succeed. To strive. To dream. His determination impressed her, made her proud. She searched for a truthful but kind answer. "Once you've got a set you're comfortable delivering, sure. Would you send a tape? I have a recorder you can borrow."

"I wrote a lot this week. Not many jokes but I've done some brainstorming." He flicked ash from his cigarette into the pink ashtray on the coffee table. Splayed his fingers and rubbed his palms together. The bob of his Adam's apple was faint in the dim, blue light. "Do you- Do you want to sleep over?" He turned to her.

Elated, she smiled widely and shifted to sit side-saddle. "I'd love to, but I didn't bring any clothes."

"Hold on." He rose from the couch and disappeared into the bedroom. After a minute, she followed to find him digging through a couple of cardboard boxes. Boxes filled with his mother's things, she realized. She'd have to follow-up for details, find out what had happened to ensure the transition would go as smoothly as possible. Though the relationship between him and Penny was complicated, change wouldn't be easy.

He held out a threadbare, light-blue, nylon nightdress with ruffled cap sleeves and a ribbon at the neckline. "Here."

Y/N cocked her head. The gown was exceedingly narrow, its seams stretched. If she had been inclined to wear it, it wouldn't have fit. Arthur's hopeful expression made it plain he did not see the oddity in offering his romantic partner his mother's nightwear. It was logical, she supposed. His years had been spent living hand to mouth. He didn't have any siblings. Hand-me-downs - a spare sweater here, a pair of socks there - would have come from Penny. A tad strange, to be sure. But poverty had a way of making the abnormal normal.

"Thanks," Y/N said. "But I'll be fine in my panties." At his pout, she closed the inches between them. "If you have a t-shirt, I'll take it." His brows lifted and he gave a toothy smile, comprised of surprise and conceit. The shirt he retrieved from the living room was plain and white. The lightly stained armpits didn't bother her, nor did its loose fit. It was part of his work outfit, he explained. And he claimed she looked cute in it.

Her sleep was restful, deep, better than it had been the last two weeks. Arthur being nearby and her certainty when she'd lain her head on his pillow had calmed her. She didn't think about the Wayne Foundation. She didn't worry about how to pursue a future with him. She didn't waste her energy being afraid of powerlessness. Warmth filled her, aided by contentment and cozy blankets.

When the mattress sunk beneath his weight, she didn't check the clock. Judging by the speed with which her drowsiness dissipated and the blackness of the room, it was likely around 4:00 AM. She'd gotten a solid five hours. With a slight stretch and mewl, she blinked up at him. Her elbow accidentally bumped his chest. "Aren't you tired?"

"No." He palmed her shoulder, caution palpable in every movement. Then his caress dragged down her upper arm, hovered over her breast.

She stroked his stubbled cheek. "What are you up to?"

"Making sure you're really here."

It was unclear if he was kidding. The extent of his imaginations or hallucinations - if that's what he experienced - weren't yet known to her. She recalled how he'd clutched her jacket, the way he'd fiddled with her wall calendar and coffee table when he'd come to her for help. Tactility oriented him, as it had her father before the final stages of his diagnosis. And, outside of acute episodes, Loving Someone with... had advised her to carry-on as always.

Laughing gently, she entwined their legs. "Where else would I be?"

"I don't know," he scoffed. He tucked his chin. Silence permeated the room, interrupted only by their exhalations. Eventually, he spoke, his rasp bashful and desperate. "Are you going to leave me again?"

"No." She pressed his hand to her breast, tried to soothe his tremble away. "I like it here."

She could hear his smile in the dark. He dipped his head to capture her lips. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her again. She kissed him back until she ached with emptiness. Until she felt him hard against her hip.

"Y/N?" he breathed into her mouth.

Her pulse throbbed in her ears. "What?"

His forehead met hers and she shivered all over. "I wanna make you come."

~~~~~

Drip, drip, drip. A calming, predictable sound. The pungent smell of generic brew wafted to his nostrils, slightly burnt but familiar. Coffee. He was making his girlfriend coffee before she went to work. After they'd made love and snoozed until sunrise. After she'd admonished him for smoking in bed, then caressed his flaccid sex and teased him about his "secret freckle." (He'd covered his face in horror and delight and promised himself that one day he'd find a "secret" on her.) He hummed along to the radio, though he disliked the song, and whistled while he filled their cups. Once he'd added three sugars to his and the last of his milk to hers, he padded to the bath. He leaned on the doorframe, an imitation of nonchalance.

In her apparent rush to get to him, Y/N hadn't simply neglected to pack a change of clothing. She was swiping his stick of deodorant under her arms with haste. When she grabbed his comb and tried to tame her hair, he didn't mind. She declined his offer of Penny's eyeliner and mascara but that was fine. She didn't need them, anyway.

As she buttoned her pleated blouse, he giggled. He'd heard jokes about women going to work in identical outfits two days in a row. The innuendo had escaped him until now. A thrill went through him at finally getting the joke. He blushed. "You're dressed the same."

"I left Patricia a message that I'd be late. It won't surprise anyone." She accepted the proffered mug and took a long drink. A mischievous look as she arched a brow. "She'll want details."

Arthur's eyes widened and he rubbed his forehead. This would take getting used to.

She squeezed a line of toothpaste onto her index finger. "What are you doing today? Any gigs?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, braced his arm on the wall. "I have to call the hospital. Figure out where to send my mother." He was glad to begin the process of moving on, moving forward. To start building a life of his own. Freed from the woman who hadn't protected him. Paired with the woman who understood him most. Still. He was daunted.

After a few seconds of attempting to brush her teeth, Y/N rinsed her mouth and washed her hands. "The social worker should be able to help. There must be homes specializing in lobotomy patients, given how common they were. Actually..." She stepped to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. "I bet there's an advocacy group for the elderly in Gotham. I'll call around on my break. We can have lunch and review their recommendations."

The tightness in his chest prevented him from holding her gaze. His longings for kindness didn't make it any less peculiar. He hoped he would be able to accept it without skepticism soon, like a normal person. That he wouldn't wait for the other shoe to drop. He tried to fight his negative thoughts rather than give into them.

But he couldn't. Not yet. "Why are you doing this?" he mumbled.

She gave a small shrug, as if what she was about to say wasn't a miracle. "I love you. Why wouldn't I?" Before he could react, she walked to the front door and slipped on her heels. "Besides, we should plan this weekend. Shall We Dance is showing at the Monarch. We could catch it and have dinner at my place. And there's a doctor I found for you - when you're feeling up to it. We'll go over the particulars."

The offer to see the film, one he knew every number of, was an obvious attempt to butter him up for that discussion. It would work. "That sounds nice." He went to her side and took her coat off the wall mounted rack, guided her arms into the sleeves

"Arthur," she started, zipping her jacket. Her pretty eyes met his. "I wasn't going to end our relationship. I don't want you to fear that."

He winced and clutched his hands together, annoyed she had raised the subject again after the wonderful morning they'd shared. "I believe you now."

"Back home, I made mistakes. That's why I needed time." She shook her head. "The thought of repeating them with you..."

Mistakes? What kind of mistakes was she referring to? She'd said her divorce had been mutual. A big fight with her sister or mother hadn't been mentioned. She almost never talked about what had happened with her father, other than to name his diagnosis and state she'd gone on medication. She was a good woman. Whatever she had done, it couldn't be that terrible. Not half as bad as the notions that wormed their way into his brain like a broken record.

Then she continued. "I didn't know what to do then. But I think I do now. " She nuzzled his sideburn and carded her fingers through his hair. "If I see you walking towards a cliff, I won't follow. I'll pull you back before you get there."

He stared at her, blinking rapidly as he tried to hold himself together. Her words felt like the kind of fantasy he'd created to ease his misery. To try to convince himself he should exist another day. That he should stick around. Multiple hospitalizations had proven that hadn't always worked. But this was new. Real. Maybe that reality would allow him, for a little while, to be all right.

He cupped her face, drifted his thumbs over her cheeks. She leaned into him, into the kisses he placed on her brow, her nose, her mouth. His lips parted but all he could manage was a shaky exhale. The press of his face to hers.

She must have noticed he was overwhelmed. It frustrated him - he wanted to find a way to articulate himself. But her peck to his jaw, her hand covering his, made him feel safe. "Meet you at my office at one?"

"Mm-hmm." He nodded into her hair, not quite ready to let go.

Gently, she pulled away from his grasp, took her purse, and opened the door. She smiled. "Call if you need anything."

At that, she strode down the hall in the direction of the elevator. He stepped out and watched until she disappeared around the corridor's corner. He rested against the door and closed his eyes, wishing harder than he ever had before that every morning would be like this for the rest of his life.

~~~~~

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#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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themousefromfantasyland · 4 years ago

Text

The Nutcracker and the Mouse King (4/14)

A classic Christmas fairy tale

Told by E.T.A. Hoffman

Chapter Four: Wonders Upon Wonders

In the sitting-room of the Doctor's house, just as you enter the room, there stands on the left hand, close against the wall, a high glass-case, in which the children preserve all the beautiful things which are given to them every year. Louise was quite a little girl when her father had the case made by a skilful joiner, who set in it such large, clear panes of glass, and arranged all the parts so well together, that every thing looked much brighter and handsomer when on its shelves than when it was held in the hands. On the upper shelf, which Marie and Fritz were unable to reach, stood all Godfather Drosselmeier's curious machines. Immediately belowthis was a shelf for the picture-books; the two lower shelves Marie and Fritz filled up as they pleased, but it always happened that Marie used the lower one as a house for her dolls, while Fritz, on the contrary, cantoned his troops in the one above.

And so it happened to-day, for while Fritz set his hussars in order above, Marie, having laid Miss Trutchen aside, and having installed the new and sweetly dressed doll in her best furnished chamber below, had invited herself to tea with her. I have said that the chamber was well furnished, and it is true; here was a nice chintz sofa and several tiny chairs, there stood a tea-table, but above all, there was a clean, white little bed for her doll to repose upon. All these things were arranged in one corner of the glass case, the sides of which were hung with gay pictures, and it will readily be supposed, that in such a chamber the new doll, Miss Clara, must have found herself very comfortable.

It was now late in the evening, and night, indeed, was close at hand, and Godfather Drosselmeier had long since gone home, yet still the children could not leave the glass-case, although their mother repeatedly told them that it was high time to go to bed. "It is true," cried Fritz at last; "the poor fellows (meaning his hussars) would like to get a little rest, and as long as I am here, not one of them will dare to nod—I know that."

With these words he went up to bed, but Marie begged very hard, "Only leave me here a little while, dear mother. I have two or three things to attend to, and when they are done I will go immediately to bed." Marie was a very good and sensible child, and therefore her mother could leave her alone with her play-things without anxiety. But for fear she might become so much interested in her new doll and other presents as to forget the lights which burned around the glass case, her mother blew them all out, and left only the lamp which hung clown from the ceiling in the middle of the chamber, and which diffused a soft, pleasant light.

"Come in soon, dear Marie, or you will not be up in time to-morrow morning," called her mother, as she went up to bed. There was something Marie had at heart to do, which she had not told her mother, though she knew not the reason why; and as soon as she found herself alone she went quickly about it. She still carried in her arms the wounded Nutcracker, rolled up in her pocket handkerchief. Now she laid him carefully upon the table, unrolled the handkerchief softly, and examined his wound.

Nutcracker was very pale, but still he smiled so kindly and sorrowfully that it went straight to Marie's heart. "Ah! Nutcracker, Nutcracker, do not be angry at brother Fritz because he hurt you so, he did not mean to be so rough; it is the wild soldier's life with his hussars that has made him a little hard-hearted, but otherwise he is a good fellow, I can assure you. Now I will tend you very carefully until you are well and merry again; as to fastening in your teeth and setting your shoulders, that Godfather Drosselmeier must do; he understands such things."

But Marie was hardly able to finish the sentence, for as she mentioned the name of Drosselmeier, friend Nutcracker made a terrible wry face, and there darted something out of his eyes like green sparkling flashes. Marie was just going to fall into a dreadful fright, when behold, it was the sad smiling face of the honest Nutcracker again, which she saw before her, and she knew now that it must be the glare of the lamp, which, stirred by the draught, had flared up, and distorted Nutcracker's features so strangely. "Am I not a foolish girl," she said, "to be so easily frightened, and to think that a wooden puppet could make faces at me? But I love Nutcracker too well, because he is so droll and so good tempered; therefore he shall be taken good care of as he deserves."

With this Marie took friend Nutcracker in her arms, walked to the glass case, stooped down, and said to her new doll, "Pray, Miss Clara, be so good as to give up your bed to the sick and wounded Nutcracker, and make out as well as you can with the sofa, Remember that you are well and hearty, or you would not have such fat red cheeks, and very few little dolls have such nice sofas."

Miss Clara, in her gay Christmas attire, looked very grand and haughty, and would not even say "Muck." "But why should I stand upon ceremony?" said Marie, and she took out the bed, laid little Nutcracker down upon it softly, and gently rolled a nice ribbon which she wore around her waist, about his poor shoulders, and then drew the bedclothes over him snugly, so that there was nothing to be seen of him below the nose. "He shan't stay with the naughty Clara," she said, and raised the bed with Nutcracker in it to the shelf above, and placed it close by the pretty village, where Fred's hussars were quartered. She locked the case, and was about to go up to bed, when—listen children—when softly, softly it began to rustle, and to whisper, and to rattle round and round, under the hearth, behind the chairs, behind the cupboards and glass case.

The great clock whir—red louder and louder, but it could not strike. Marie turned towards it, and there the large gilt owl that sat on the top, had dropped down its wings, so that they covered the whole face, and it stretched out its ugly head with the short crooked beak, and looked just like a cat. And the clock whirred louder in plain words.

"Dick—ry, dick—ry, dock—whirr, softly clock, Mouse-King has a fine ear—prr—prr—pum—pum—the old song let him hear—prr—prr—pum—pum—or he might—run away in a fright—now clock strike softly and light." And pum—pum, it went with a dull deadened sound twelve times.

Marie began now to tremble with, fear, and she was upon the point of running out of the room in terror, when she beheld Godfather Drosselmeier, who sat in the owl's place on the top of the clock, and had hung down the skirts of his brown coat just like wings. But she took courage, and cried out loudly, with sobs, "Godfather Drosselmeier, Godfather Drosselmeier, what are you doing up there? Come down, and do not frighten me so, you naughty Godfather Drosselmeier!"

Just then a wild squeaking and whimpering broke out on all sides, and then there was a running, trotting and galloping behind the walls, as if a thousand little feet were in motion, and a thousand little lights flashed out of the crevices in the floor. But they were not lights—no—they were sparkling little eyes, and Marie perceived that mice were all around, peeping out and working their way into the room. Presently it went trot—trot—hop—hop about the chamber, and more and more mice, in greater or smaller parties galloped across, and at last placed themselves in line and column, just as Fritz was accustomed to place his soldiers when they went to battle. This Maria thought was very droll, and as she had not that aversion to mice which most children have, her terror was gradually leaving her, when all at once there arose a squeaking so terrible and piercing, that it seemed as if ice-cold water was poured down her back. Ah, what now did she see!

I know, my worthy reader Friedrich, that thy heart, like that of the wise and brave soldier Friedrich Stahlbaum, sits in the right place, but if thou hadst seen what Marie now beheld, thou wouldst certainly have run away; yes, I believe that thou wouldst have jumped as quickly as possible into bed, and then have drawn the covering over thine ears much farther than was necessary to keep thee warm.

Alas! poor Marie could not do that now, for—listen children—close before her feet, there burst out sand and lime and crumbled wall stones, as if thrown up by some subterranean force, and seven mice-heads with seven sparkling crowns rose out of the floor, sqeaking and squealing terribly.

Presently the mouse's body to which these seven heads belonged, worked its way out, and the great mouse crowned with the seven diadems, squeaking loudly, huzzaed in full chorus, as he advanced to meet his army, which at once set itself in motion, and hott—hott—trot—trot it went—alas, straight towards the glass case—straight towards poor Marie who stood close before it!

Her heart had before beat so terribly from anxiety and fear, that she thought it would leap out of her bosom, and then she knew she must die; but now it seemed as if the blood stood still in her veins. Half fainting, she tottered backward, when clatter—clatter—rattle—rattle it went—and a glass pane which she had struck with her elbow fell in pieces at her feet. She felt at the moment a sharp pain in her left arm, but her heart all at once became much lighter, she heard no more squeaking and squealing, all had become still, and although she did not dare to look, yet she believed that the mice, frightened by the clatter of the broken glass, had retreated into their holes. But what was that again! Close behind her in the glass case a strange bustling and rustling began, and little fine voices were heard. "Up, up, awake—arms take—awake—to the fight—this night—up, up—to the fight." And all the while something rang out clear and sweet like little bells. "Ah, that is my clear musical clock!" exclaimed Marie joyfully, and turned quickly to look.

She then saw how it flashed and lightened strangely in the glass case, and there was a great stir and bustle upon the shelves. Many little figures crossed up and down by each other, and worked and stretched out their arms as if they were making ready.

And now, Nutcracker raised himself all of a sudden, threw the bedclothes clear off, and leaped with both feet at once out of bed, crying aloud, "Crack—crack—crack—stupid pack—drive mouse back—stupid pack—crack—crack—mouse—back—crick—crack—stupid pack."

With these words he drew his little sword, flourished it in the air, and exclaimed, "My loving vassals, friends and brothers, will you stand by me in the hard fight?" Straightway three Scaramouches, a Harlequin, four Chimney-sweepers, two Guitar-players and a drummer cried out, "Yes, my lord, we will follow you with fidelity and courage—we will march with you to battle—to victory or death," and then rushed after the fiery Nutcracker, who ventured the dangerous leap down from the upper shelf. Ah, it was easy enough for them to perform this feat, for beside the fine garments of thick cloth and silk which they wore, the inside of their bodies were made of cotton and tow, so that they came down plump, like bags of wool.

But poor Nutcracker had certainly broken his arms or his legs, for remember, it was almost two feet from the shelf where he stood to the floor, and his body was as brittle as if it had been cut out of Linden wood. Yes, Nutcracker would certainly have broken his arms or his legs, if, at the moment when he leaped, Miss Clara had not sprung quickly from the sofa, and caught the hero with his drawn sword in her soft arms. "Ah, thou dear, good Clara," sobbed Marie, "how I have wronged thee! Thou didst certainly resign thy bed willingly to little Nutcracker."

But Miss Clara now spoke, as she softly pressed the young hero to her silken bosom. "You will not, oh, my lord! sick and wounded as you are, share the dangers of the fight. See how your brave vassals assemble themselves, eager for the affray, and certain of conquest. Scaramouch, Harlequin, Chimney-sweepers, Guitar-players, Drummer, are all ready drawn up below, and the china figures on the shelf stir and move strangely! Will yon not, oh, my lord! repose upon the sofa, or from my arms look down upon your victory?" Thus spoke Clara, but Nutcracker demeaned himself very ungraciously, for he kicked and struggled so violently with his legs, that Clara was obliged to set him quickly down upon the floor. He then, however, dropped gracefully upon one knee, and said, "Fair lady, the recollection of thy favor and condescension will go with me into the battle and the strife."

Clara then stooped so low that she could take him by the arm, raised him gently from his knees, took off her bespangled girdle, and was about to throw it across his neck, but little Nutcracker stepped two paces backward, laid his hand upon his breast, and said very earnestly, "Not so, fair lady, lavish not thy favors thus upon me, for—" he stopped, sighed heavily, tore off the ribbon which Marie had bound about his shoulders, pressed it to his lips, hung it across him like a scarf, and then boldly flourishing his bright little blade, leaped like a bird over the edge of the glass case upon the floor.

You understand my kind and good readers and listeners, that Nutcracker, even before he had thus come to life, had felt very sensibly the kindness and love which Marie had shown towards him, and it was because he had become so partial to her, that he would not receive and wear the girdle of Miss Clara, although it shone and sparkled so brightly. The true and faithful Nutcracker preferred to wear Maria's simple ribbon. But what will now happen? As soon as Nutcracker had leaped out, the squeaking and whistling was heard again. Ah, it is under the large table, that the hateful mice have concealed their countless bands, and high above them all towers the dreadful mouse with seven heads! What will now happen!

#christmas #holiday season #the nutcracker #e. t. a. hoffmann #hoffman #fairy tales #Christmas Fairy Tales

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