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tinynerdz360 · 14 days ago

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Future Ghost Chapter 3

Flashback:

(Danny in the far frozen talking to a Doctor; a ghost Yeti named Doctor Bonechiller.)

Danny: So, Doc…... I have a question…. It’s something I’ve noticed…I don’t think I’ve been aging…I mean, I still look the same as I did last year. When will I get my growth spurt?

Doctor Bonechiller: Well, that’s a complex question. Ghosts don’t age like humans. We don’t change year to year like you, or well mortals do. We grow stronger with age, not weaker.

Danny: I know that….my worry is I’ll be stuck looking like a fourteen-year-old forever. Do ghosts ever age physically, or do they get stuck at the age they died?

Doctor Bonechiller: Hmmm…. yes and no. Different factors go into this. We don’t change with the years. We change with events, trauma, personality, wants, and desires. If you were a natural-born ghost child, a little younger, or even now, I’d say having a healthy parental or guardian bond would help with growing and changing.

Danny: Well, my parents are ghost hunters; I don’t know what they’d do….

Doctor Bonechiller: That may play a factor. A young ghost like yourself needs to feel safe to change. But wanting to grow will help as well, there are ghosts that never want to ‘grow’ up as you say.

Danny: Yeah, like Youngblood. I guess he’ll really stay young forever.

Doctor Bonechiller: Don’t look so glum; we’ll keep an eye on it. As a hybrid, your body might react completely differently from a human or a ghost. You are very young, only a year by ghost standards. You are a child; your body might just be finding that balance or even need years to change. As I said, multiple factors go into this, at least for us.

Danny: Jeeeezzzz that’s not comforting at all…...*sigh* thanks for help I guess….

Danny avoided Sick Bay at all costs, wary of being examined and discovered. He knew Dr. McCoy would want to do a full workup on the new ensign, as per Starfleet regulations. So, Danny hacked into the medical database, forging records indicating he had already undergone orientation examinations. Danny was lucky that Dr. Mccoy didn’t have to be the one to personally do the examination. Anyone on his staff could do it. So, it was just a matter of forging a digital signature.

He figured he’d be fine. Doctor Bonechiller said ghosts rarely get sick, and when they do, it’s not something humans can usually get, and he theorized as a halfa, the same would apply to him. In theory, anyway. The data on this was extremely limited. Danny brushed those thoughts aside; he’d be fine……. probably.

It was a risky gambit, but Danny's ghost abilities served him well, allowing him to merge his consciousness with the computer network and hack into the files he needed. He spoofed the system flawlessly, fabricating biometrics and test results that appeared normal for a human 18-year-old. Or at least what he thought was normal. His talents lay with machines and astronomy, not medicine. Well, besides the basic first aid and his experience fixing his own wounds. It probably would be fine; he’d just have to stay under the radar.

Danny jolted out of his thoughts as a large hand landed on his shoulder.

“You are alright there, kiddo? You’ve been staring at the same panel for a while.” Daryl McDonnell questioned, a concern tilted to his British accent.

Daryle McDonnell had taken Danny under his wing—quite frankly, the whole engineering department had. Danny was the youngest among their ranks, regardless of whether he was eighteen or not. There had been some speculation that the kid was lying. But his file checked out. It was not an easy thing to pull one over the ship's CMO. So those rumors died to jokes about his baby face appearance.

“I’m not a kid.” Grumbled Danny at his friend. The older man showed him a lot of patience during his first week aboard. Danny had struggled with completing basic tasks. Like completing reports, navigating the ship (often getting lost), and getting too wrapped up in awe of being in space or getting lost in his work tasks.

The other man patiently showed him how to write a good report and submit it, made sure he had access to the ship's policy and manual and even made him take breaks to eat or get off shift. Danny was so relieved that Daryle never questioned his lack of knowledge.

“haha….eh you’re the youngest one here, you get to be the kid. When you’re my age, you’ll get it.” Mcdonnell replied. Waving his hand to dismiss Danny’s annoyance.

“What when I’m 100?” Snarked Danny.

McDonnell mocked offense, grabbing his chest. “Careful, my old heart can’t take it.”

Danny ducked his head as he snickered. As a ghost, Danny had empathetic abilities, like the betazoids, but without the mindreading. He could feel the emotions of those around him. He couldn’t turn it off, and his core needed it. The emotions fed his ghostly side. The warm, affectionate fondness radiating from the lieutenant made him feel happy, his ghost side greedily absorbing the emotion and feeding it into his core.

McDonnell guided Danny away from the computer panel. “So, a few buddies of mine are having poker night in the mess hall. I’ve invited the other ensigns from the Prodigy program. You should come.” Mcdonnell offered. “I’m sure you know a few of them. I hear the prodigies are a tight-knit group back at the academy.”

“Pro…prodigy?” Danny mumbled in confusion. *Is he calling me smart? I guess I’m smart* Danny froze as he was hit with a wave of emotion. The Sharp sting of suspicion, skepticism, disbelief, and a smidge of concern. Danny looked back up at the forty-year-old man.

McDonnell gave Danny a strange look, side-eyeing him as he looked down at the shorter ensign. “You know. The Starfleet program, that allows minors into the academy. The one you would have had to have been in to be on the enterprise today? You’d have had to have joined at fourteen……or sixteen if you’re really smart. To get through the program?” McDonnell looked at Danny with a look of skepticism.

He eyed the scars on the ensign’s arms; his uniform sleeves were rolled up. He didn’t like how many scares the kid had or the Lichtenberg figure scares trailing up from the ensign's left hand all the way up his arm. It baffled him how he even managed to get a scar like that. While, yes very common for engineers to get a shock, lichtenberg figures should fade with time. Or why the ensign never got them removed with the help of modern medicine. Hell, sickbay could remove them with a dermal repair kit. Unless the kid was avoiding sickbay.

McDonnell watched as Danny stared at him in disbelief. He felt amused to see the kid gap at him like a fish, his mouth opening and closing as he processed this information and tried to answer.

While concerning the kid seemed to have no idea what he was talking about. His reaction only added to McDonnell's own theory. He suspected the kid had hacked his way in. The kid was smart, he’ll give him that, and he would have thrived in the prodigy program. But there were holes in the kid’s story, and he had so many gaps in his knowledge. McDonnell figured he came from some abusive home on a backwater colony and, in desperation, hacked his way in. But the kid was painfully bad at lying, and while he was a good kid who tried hard to please everyone, he could have come up with a better cover story. He might even be eighteen, like he says, but coming from a rough home would explain any growth delays.

Danny, meanwhile, was flabbergasted. *Omg, what do I do? I don’t know any of those other ensigns! Why am I so stupid? They let minors in! omg, omg, I’m so screwed. Oh god, oh god, does Daryl know? Great going, Fenton; how did I mess up this badly? * As Danny's mind raced and he panicked, he felt his chest tighten and his breaths coming in shorter and shorter. *Maybe I can still save this. Play it cool, Fenton, you can fix this. *

“DANNY!” Danny snapped out of his rushing thoughts at the shout of his name. At some point, McDonnell had guided him to a chair. He was grasping both of his shoulders, crouching down to look in his face. “Hey, you stopped breathing there. It's okay to take deep breaths; copy me. That’s right. It’s ok.”

Danny tried calming down, following McDonnell’s breathing pattern. He felt embarrassed and sacred.

“You’re looking paler than usual. How about I take you to Medbay?”

“NOO!” He pushed himself out of the chair, side-stepping McDonnell’s concerned hands. “I’m fine……I just got overwhelmed….”

“There’s something I need to tell you, Don.” Danny took a deep breath. Danny tried to ignore McDonnells's hopeful look as he gave him his undivided attention. “I…...I…...have social anxiety…..I was always a loner at the academy; I never really interacted with the others in the program…. The program I was…did go to. So, I just got overwhelmed there.” Danny stuttered out. *ha! NAILED it!*

McDonnell’s face morphed into a look of disappointment. Danny felt his face heat up; he could taste the disappointment coming off the other man. “uh huh…... Danny…..I hope you know you could tell me anything……or there’s others onboard you could talk to.”

“There's nothing to tell!” Danny hissed. He felt frustrated and had a creeping feeling of being trapped. He could not admit to one lie; one truth would lead to another and another until it unraveled into his most guarded secret. While the future seemed awesome and accepting of all walks of life. Danny could not shake the doubt and fear that they would still reject him. And he wasn’t stupid, humanity still had some biases. While humanity moved past most of its hate, people still had trouble accepting humans with extra abilities. Those with augmentations and those with psionic abilities. It was perfectly fine when it was an alien but a human. That was crossing the line. Danny could not handle a rejection right now; he was isolated enough.

McDonnell backed off, holding his hand up in front of him. “Ok, ok, there’s nothing to tell. I just thought you’d benefit from hanging out with your own age group.”

“What do you mean, my own age group,” Danny asks with a grumpy, suspicious glare. If he had to defend his age one more time, he swore to Clockwork, he’d lose it.

“I mean, these other ensigns are eighteen and seventeen. It’d be good for you.” McDonnell answered, choosing not to give him a hard time. He hoped one day the kid would confide in him or anyone really. He hated seeing how Danny flinch when someone raised their hands too quickly around him or how he would shy away in fear of them. He knew the kid was hiding stuff, probably stuff he shouldn’t, but cornering him would just make it worse.

Danny winced. “Fine, I’ll go.”

McDonnell gave him a big smile, reached out, and ruffled his hair, earning him a squawk from Danny. “Good, see you later tonight kiddo. Now go rest; you look paler than a ghost!”

Danny spluttered as McDonnell walked off. *HA! If only you knew. Oh, clockwork, how am I gonna survive tonight? * Danny dropped his head in his hands. He was so screwed. With a sigh, he headed to his quarters. He knew how he was going to spend his time, brushing up on current topics and what was popular. It would be just his luck if he couldn’t connect with this century’s teenagers. Hopefully his roommate was out, his room mate was the worst always giving him a hard time or questioning him. He could taste the sourness of his suspicion. One Walton Weston.

Chapter 4

#my writing #Danny fenton in space #danny fenton #danny phantom #star trek #star trek crossover #Danny in starfleet #crossover #fanfiction

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iridiss · 2 years ago

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Eide is a challenge to write for, since we only have about 3 lines of spoken dialogue from him in Night in the Woods, and even though he’s a very prominent and important character, everything else he does is so heavily shrouded in mystery that there are a thousand different versions of him you could extrapolate from the mist that is his original character.

All we have of him are the lines:

“There they are! They’re right there! I’m gonna kill them!”

(after he’s told to shut up) ”He…shot…me!”

Then it’s not confirmed, but the position of the text bubble also implies he says “Ones ‘e takes a shining to. It rubs off on ya. You can do things.” When explaining Ed Skudder’s “glimmer” gift, which would line up with Eide’s own gifts, if he was one of the people the Black Goat “took a shining to.” But again, it’s not confirmed that it’s even him speaking

He’s depicted as the most aggressive, trigger-happy and violent member of the cult, contrasted by the calm, apologetic, or wisened members next to him. He shouts to kill the main crew immediately, while the member next to him apologizes to the crew for a separate incident, showing a strong contrast between him and the rest of the miner cult. He has a dynamic with the leader that’s effectively “annoying brat keeps having to get told to shut the hell up and stay in line,” he’s rebellious against said authority and acts out against his orders by chasing after Mae, and on the more spiritual side, he has some kind of psychic connection to Mae and The Black Goat, to the point where he’s special enough to be blessed with special powers by The Black Goat. He’s also the only character we see going out and doing the cult’s dirty work, and though I’m sure plenty of the other members do their part as well, it’s narratively important enough for Eide to be the only one spotlighted for his work, which is a natural reflection on Eide as a character.

And that’s all we have of him that’s set in stone, and even that's a tad extrapolated. Anything else beyond that is speculation, including his identity, his motives, why he chases after Mae, why he follows her, why he appears in her dreams, everything. He is a creature of pure folklore. He’s very likely to be an older man, anywhere between his late 50s-60s at the youngest to possibly "older than we can even comprehend" at the oldest. He may be older than the town itself. We don’t know. We know he’s a cat, like Mae, further solidifying their connection. He has curly fur, and he has two nicks in both ears, which similarly ties back into Mae’s own nicked ear. We know he’s freely a murderer and serial killer, likely without regret or shame.

Using what we have, I’ve decided that this AU version of Eide is a larger, older male cat, whose personality is brash, aged, aggressive, violent, trigger-happy, grouchy, brazen, vulgar, egotistical, and very lacking in the “empathy and kindness” department. There are a lot of different roles he could have played for the AU, he could have fit Aym/Baal’s replacement, he could’ve been the weapons-seller, but due to his special, psychic connection with The Black Goat and Mae (and his importance in NITW), I figured the best position for him would be the previous Red Crown holder. (red crown holder also fits with him aesthetically due to the cult’s strong red association in both games)

So with all of that addressed, let me introduce you to: Eide, “The Ghost of Death”

Eide’s name is a legacy written in blood across the lands of the Old Faith. To civilians, grunts of the four main cults, and smaller “monster” enemies, Eide was a nightmare. A monster you told stories about past midnight and around the fire to terrify your little siblings over. He had been the blessed bloodhound of The One Who Waits for generations. Beatrice Santello is the only witness that remembers him, that was alive during the time of his legacy, though she’s grateful she never met him. He went after the armies of the Old Faith, culling them down to weaker and weaker numbers, he took down the previous witnesses of Leshy, Heket, and Shamura, freeing up the positions for Angus, Gregg and Lori to fill later. He wanted to be the one to kill the Old Gods, he wanted to be the legendary crown-holder at the top of the world, known throughout history as The Godkiller. But Narinder only hired him to set the stage for the true, Lamb savior to arrive, and he had to remind him of that countless times. He was not the chosen savior, he was not The Lamb. He may have been the best there ever was (and will be, as Eide insistingly grumbled), but that was not his place. He needed to stay in line, Narinder told him.

But that wasn’t what he wanted. He was better than that. He deserved that damned throne, and he would get it, no matter what anyone said. It would be his.

Leshy, the weakest, was his first target. His army had been massacred, his Witness was nowhere to protect him, and he was still trying to recover and rebuild from Eide’s last attack. Eide tracked him down, found him in his lair, and went for the kill. That glory, that power, that would be his, all his.

But it wasn’t.

Maybe he was blinded by his emotions, maybe it was the slightest mistake, maybe it was a lucky roll of the dice for Leshy that day, maybe he jumped wrong, maybe one of those damned grunt archers got a once-in-a-lifetime shot, who knows. But one moment he was leaping to slice Leshy in half, and the next moment, Leshy’s jaws came down on him, the whole world went black, and he woke up revived in Narinder’s realm with a chunk of his side missing and his dominant arm gone.

Leshy had killed him, and TOWW had to bring him back at the expense of his own power. He had failed, for the first time in his life. Narinder screamed at him, furious that he disobeyed his orders and jeopardized their mission and Narinder’s own success due to his ego, his disobedient, insolent pride. Eide yelled back, but that only worsened his position.

That day ended with his status and power as the Crown Bearer being revoked. And in an instant, he had nothing.

To the rest of the world, it was as if the Ghost of Death disappeared one day. Rumors and stories were told of seeing his shadow in the woods at night, beasts preying on villagers in the night would be blamed on him, and a fear of his return or a surprise attack from the infamous monster Reaper would remain for the following decades, before his memory faded away into an urban legend and the next generations forgot him. The “Ghost of Death” had once referred to a very real Reaper that waited around every corner to take your soul down into the pit of Hell, but soon enough, a ghost is all that he became. A whisper on the wind, an urban legend, a ghost story, an imaginary shadow in the woods at night.

Eide now lives in a small, isolated cabin in the deep, dark forest. His warrior days are over, and now all he can do is burn his time and keep an eye on the events going on. He watched as the lamb prophecy was revealed to the other gods, he watched with intrigue as the lamb species was culled, and he waited with hope and anticipation for Narinder’s call after they went extinct. There were no more sheep in the entire land, so surely he was all he had left and he would be able to live his glory days again soon.

One day, he was called back by Narinder, his moment had come—only for his dreams to be shattered by the sight of a 4-foot tall weak-ass black-furred kitten.

TOWW explained to him that as the previous holder, Eide’s job would be to mentor the new holder and teach her everything she needs to know to kill the Gods and truly be His savior.

Eide froze.

He looked at Mae.

Mae waved at him.

He took a deep breath.

He would fucking kill her.

…but unfortunately, he can’t. His job is to mentor his replacement. The “true” savior. This little brat.

He’s going to lose his mind out here.

#art #digital art #artwork #artists on tumblr #drawing #sketch #my art #cult of the lamb #night in the woods x cult of the lamb crossover au #night in the woods #NITW x COTL crossover au #mae borowski #nitw eide

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kamyru · 1 year ago

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Kuranosuke Kiba headcanons

Author's note: I don't remember the last time I did something like this, probably it was for "Irresistible Mistakes" Toma Kiriya. But, here I am because I have so many headcanons I want to share with you. Tell me about whom to make the next post.

As a kid, Kuranosuke asked his parents for a pet. But they ignored him. Instead, they gave his younger brother one. By the end, Kuranosuke took care of the animal, and it loved him the most out of the entire house.

Kuranosuke thinks he is closer to his sister because they spend more time together. However, his brother is sure he is closer to him because Kuranosuke used to spend a lot of time looking after him.

Kid and teenager Kuranosuke hated his eyes with a passion. He thought his rough look made it hard to find friends and be close to his family. So, for a few years, he tried all the possible ways known to mankind to look friendlier.

Kuranosuke used to volunteer at pet shelters when he was a teenager.

For a while, teenager Kuranosuke wanted to go to therapy. But he thought that his problems weren't important enough for this. So, he didn't go.

Kuranosuke may have a complicated relationship with his family. Yet, he thinks his parents' marriage is healthy and romantic. So, he grew up with idealized ideas about love and marriage.

Regarding Kuranosuke's idealized ideas about love: he tried to date someone in high school. Yet, he was a virgin till his late college years or even after, because he thought that sex was something you do only with a loved one.

Even if he didn't want to admit it, Kuranosuke had some feelings for his former wife, Shiori.

When he got married for the first time, Kuranosuke was pretty enthusiastic. He even accepted his colleagues to throw a party for him. That's why he was so surprised that MC didn't know he was divorced. He thought that everyone knew he used to have a wife.

Between Shiori and MC, he had never had any relationships, not even one-night stands. He felt too guilty to hurt someone again.

None of them will admit it, but Kunihiro and Kuranosuke lived together for Kuranosuke more than for Kunihiro. The older one was wealthy enough to hire someone to clean. However, after his divorce, Kuranosuke's mental health was so bad it made Kunihiro worry.

Kuranosuke and Togo joke about "the middle child" and "the youngest child". Kuranosuke teases Daimon for being the youngest, while Daimon teases Kuranosuke for being the middle. Once, Daimon joked about the middle kids being invisible to their parents, and Kuranosuke laughed so hard he started to cry. Never again had Daimon said the same joke.

Remember his "Now that I look at her, she is on the prettier side"? Kuranosuke knew from the start that MC is pretty, he is just dumb. The moment he got into his department, she caught his attention. But he wouldn't be Kuranosuke if he admitted this from the start.

This man used to be fantastic at painting, considering that both of his parents are in the art field. He also has some paintings from his young years that MC found and put on the wall. Kuranosuke tried to convince her to get rid of them, but honestly, he liked what she did.

Kuranosuke is awful at driving. He says he doesn't have a car because it's too expensive. But actually, he doesn't have one because it's safer this way.

The Blizzard knows about his nickname. It is hard not to know when he works with so many idiots. At first, Kuranosuke felt guilty and tried to be friendlier with his subordinates. Then, after the divorce with Shiori, he got numb to this kind of thing. However, from the moment he fell for MC, it hurt him every time he heard her calling him like this.

"Mr. I don't mess my personal and professional lives," told MC a few times that he loved her while at work after she got him a cup of tea or discussed a client.

He hates that he and MC don't have wedding bands yet.

NSFW! Under the cut

NSFW! While living with Kunihiro, he walked on Kuni having sex with his girlfriends. Usually, he tried to ignore it. But once, he was so exhausted and mad that he just continued his way, ignoring what was happening a few meters away.

NSFW! This one is canon, but he is the definition of "I don't have sex. I make love."

NSFW! One of his biggest turns-on is when MC wears his clothes. Forget about lacy underwear. To seduce him is enough to wear a t-shirt from him on her naked body. The second his eyes fall on MC's free nipples under the t-shirt is the last before she is naked again.

NSFW! This man has the biggest praise kink. He won't ever admit it, but it's enough for MC to tell him how good he is, and he is lost. Also, he likes to praise MC, too.

NSFW! He is a brat tamer, yes. But he is also a little bit of a brat himself. Kuranosuke didn't have the opportunity to be the spoiled kid, so he compensates in bed.

#oops i said yes #kuranosuke kiba #voltage inc

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suinotsuki · 1 year ago

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Regency AU: The Right One

A/N: I just decided to post my fanfics also here on Tumblr. But, all of these are cross-posted to my AO3 account too along with the other SenHaku Week 2021 fanfics of mine! Fanfic Links: AO3 | FF.net

Other Links: Dr. Stone Masterlist

A Regency Era AU where Kohaku is the earl's daughter and Senku is a marquess. SenHaku Week 2021 Day 4: First Kiss

"You mustn't simply give your first kiss to anyone, Kohaku. It should be with the right person." Was what her dearly departed mother once told her.

The girl took those words to her heart and carried it everywhere with her. It was like a promise. She reserved her kiss for someone worthy. She never let a boy kiss her, and, even though it was improper, she would slap their faces.

Of course, her father looked horrified when she did that to her suitors.

Kohaku won't get married at this rate. My daughter will grow old by herself. A lady like her will never find a lord or duke because of her personality. Earl Bluebelton's youngest is too feral. The family's only hope is the eldest.

There were so many words she heard from her father and other people. She can deal with the judgment of others. People would never know the truth behind their words. They couldn't see what was beyond. But, her father's?

It was too painful.

Was there something wrong with keeping her word to her mother? Is it a mistake to protect herself from those opportunistic men? Did her father not know her mother's requests to her and Ruri? Did he not want them safe and sound?

Kohaku clenched her fists tightly. It's so unfair.

"Milady, is there something wrong?" Kujaku asked, stopping to brush the girl's hair.

Kohaku looked at the woman from the mirror and smiled politely. "Everything is fine."

"Your father wants you to meet someone later. He said he thinks he finally found you and your sister good suitors." The short-haired woman stated as she went back to her previous task. "However, if I may speak my mind, they're not enough."

"I guess that's something we shall see."

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

"Kohaku, you'd behave well for today," Kokuyo ordered his youngest as headed to the parlor.

"Father, I don't think Kohaku would do something unacceptable." Ruri softly stated, but the words fell on deaf ears.

Kohaku could only look down in silence.

When they arrived at the parlor, their father smiled at the waiting guests. "Welcome! Thank you for joining us."

Both the siblings curtsied in front of the Earl's sons. Kohaku looked up to take a quick once-over at their guests. Her eyes widened as blue met blue. She recognized the lord in front of her. She knew him, and she wasn't happy with this meeting.

"Lord Magma, Lord Mantle, shall we?" Kohaku could hear her father speak, but her gaze was on the large lord she knew too well.

As if she was going to let the two of them become part of their family.

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

Kohaku couldn't believe it.

Kokuyo immediately sent her to her room when he noticed her defiant attitude towards the Earl's sons. She had to chase them away. And knowing Lord Magma's personality, she knew she had to make an extra effort. Her image be damned. She was going to protect her older sister!

Feeling frustrated, Kohaku grabbed her cloak, took her horse, and snuck out of the manor.

She needed a breather, and it was impossible to have that inside the house. She had to go somewhere. She had an idea where, but anywhere but this place was fine. The lady urged her horse to move faster. She trusted the stallion would lead her to that place.

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

Kohaku had gone to the marquess' house several times before.

She and Senku Ishigami first met before her big introduction to society. It was during one of the times she sneaked out of the manor. She found him by accident trying to make something fly up into the air. Upon seeing his crafts, she became fascinated with them and frequently came back to watch. He found her soon after.

When they saw each other at her debutante, Kokuyo wondered why they seemed close. He was also the reason why they had to dance together for one song. It wasn't bad. Kohaku would describe it as a pleasant experience. However, it was only good because that day was full of men trying to pursue her. A duke's son even tried to kiss her, but she dared to punch him in front of many.

The incident became part of the morning news.

"Lioness, I thought you weren't leaving the house today," Senku said as she approached him.

"I'm not a lioness!" Kohaku sighed. "Father found a suitor for Ruri. I made a scene and got kicked out of the dinner table."

"I can't see anything new there. Who was it?"

"Lord Magma." She intentionally left the part that her father thought she could be a match for Lord Mantle.

"Hmmm... Your father seems to be getting desperate in finding suitors."

"As you said, marquess, there was nothing new," Kohaku repeated his words. She looked over to what he was holding in his hands. "What's that?"

Senku chuckled and looked at a part of his latest invention. He only needed the piece he was holding in his hands. "Rather than explaining, why don't you see it first?"

She blinked in confusion, but still nodded as she trusted him. The boy grabbed the lamp he was holding, and they crossed the fields together. It was a long, silent walk as the marquess' land was expansive. Despite having light to illuminate their way, there were times that he would trip. It's why Kohaku would always hold him for support and not the other way around.

Finally, they arrived in front of an enormous tree. It wasn't like the others in the land. It was one of a kind. With the lady's impressive eyesight, she could see that something shined on the trees whenever the moonlight hit it. What was it? She wasn't sure. It was probably another thing the boy crafted.

Senku removed himself from her side and walked towards the tree. She could see him tinkering with a box. Her heart was beating with excitement. She was looking forward to whatever that was. His skill to diligently work on his inventions made her have respect for him. Maybe that's what made her hang around him too.

Not only was she amazed by his scientific endeavors, but his personality was unlike other men.

"I'm going to turn this on now," Senku stated.

As he pushed a button, the tree lit up, and Kohaku couldn't take her eyes off of it. There were so many specks of light decorating the tree. Nature even decided to make it better by drizzling snow from the heavens. She could have sworn she saw a faint rainbow of colors. The scenery was absolutely breathtaking.

It was probably even the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

From beside her, Senku smiled. She didn't even notice him walking to her. He noted how her shoulders relaxed as if her previous worries faded. A smile graced her lips, and her eyes lit up far brighter than the lightbulbs he made. Kohaku was supposed to say something to him. However, as soon as she looked at him, his gaze caused her to forget her words.

Everything seemed to vanish as they stood there caught in a spell by the brilliant glowing lights.

They took in each other's features memorizing each detail to heart. In the end, their gazes landed on each other's lips. They closed their eyes. The distance between them slowly shrunk with Senku cupping her face. Kohaku held onto his coat, and like that, they kissed each other softly.

Years later, Kohaku would be able to say she gave her first kiss to the right person.

#dr stone #dr stone fanfiction #dr stone fanfic #ishigami senku #senku #kohaku #senhaku #senhaku week 2021 #regency au #senku x kohaku #kohaku x senku

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sweetmoonstorm · 1 year ago

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HELLOO!! I saw that your requests were open so I wanted to request something for Ninjago!!

Basically a hc where the ninja see the reader as their baby sibling (so obviously platonic) and they would do anything for them and protect them on missions or if they got in trouble with others! Just some sibling fluff because we are in need of this stuff!

Hopefully that made sense and hopefully you're having a WONDERFUL day! Thank you❤️

Yw + Ty!! <33

There r gonna be spoilers for certain seasons in this-

So Basically for hcs with a reader that is viewed as a lil sib to ninjas.

You will definitely be treated like a child/baby.

This is just assuming you're one of the youngest in the ninja group, (including Lloyd), or you're a bit childish, whatever it would take for the ninja to view you as a younger sib.

Most likely, you're very close with them, or at least most of them, and know lots about them, and they know lots about you!

That being said....

There most definitely will be light hearted teasing/joking about you being 'the youngest' of the group no matter your age, and that may be annoying at times.

If you dislike the teasing/jokes though, they'll (tro to) stop.

So, into the ninjas relationships with you.(Lloyd, Kai, Cole, Zane, and Jay, including Nya)

Zane

Personally a fav of mine, Zane is really the guy to go to when you need help in the brains department.

He's also an excellent cook, who'd be willing to give the youngest sib something to eat whenever you're hungry.

I see Zane as the one who's although not the best at understanding emotion, will try to comfort you if you get upset or annoyed by one of your other brothers/sister, or are just having a bad day in general.

"Stay Calm y/n. Good things come to people who are able to stay calm."

"...you got that from Master Wu, right?"

"Yes, I did. Did it make you feel better?"

"...Sorta. Thanks Zane."

"I am here anytime you would like to talk, little sibling."

Allow me to add-

Even if you get scolded for getting into trouble, Zane will have this kinda look towards you that's like :

'That was very brave of you, y/n', or 'Good job defending yourself.'

He'll probs talk to u abt the event after it happens too just bc-

Jay

So we got the master of lightning.

If you're the type to tease, then here's the guy-

Aside from Lloyd, Jay's the only one who's ' element' isn't actually an element-

Cue you messing around with him and playfully joking abt his element.

Now if your element isn't actually an element either, well be prepared-

For more fluff stuff, Jay and you will probably compete against each other along with the other ninja, or maybe he's just gonna pester ya while you're doing something.

For the whole when he gets the hots for Nya, Jay may or may not ask for dating advice. Depending on how your love life is n stuff.

Now according to generic protection, Jay will try n seem a bit tough, beat up the evil with his nunchucks, y'know?

Keep the youngest safe (not that it really matters how old you are, you're gonna be the youngest to the master of lightning-)

Cole

Now, I feel you'd get along best if your element had something to do with earth, or you're just a nature enjoyer in general.

But for the general subjects.

Personally, I'm able to imagine Cole as like, the older brother who didn't realize what was going on, though that role may fit Kai or Lloyd better.

He and you may have disputes at times, along with Jay, but y'all get along in general.

And while I didn't really talk about this in the Jay section, when the time comes to where they're arguing over Nya, you could just be a lil sneaky and tell Nya legit all about their arguments over her as a youngest sibling would,

Or you could ignite the arguments a lil more, or who knows??

It's really up to you-

During battle, Cole will act similar to Jay, tryna show off some, but he may check on you a bit more often, quick glances to make sure you haven't run off to fight an enemy in Narnia or some bullsh-

Kai

Ima just jump to the protection start bc I've got more ideas for this fiery boi-

Seeing as Kai's lil sis, Nya, is also in the group, he'd probably be the most protective out of them all.

While all the Ninja care about you, Kai's the one who actually has experience with his lil sis Nya, and likely knows the best ways to make sure you don't get yourself into trouble.

Tbh, he'd probably treat you the same way he treats Nya.

Telling you to 'stay back so you don't get hurt', or to just don't do stuff that'll get you hurt, making sure you're alright, getting defensive over you when the others start arguments, etc.

It does NOT matter what role you play or how good/bad you are in battle, Kai's gonna treat you like his bio lil sib

Well, i suppose that would depend on how long he'd known you, but, stillll

That would actually prob be the main reason he argues with you.

Despite wanting you to be safe, along with Nya, Kai still has that fiery personality of his, to match with his element.

But for general, Kai can be a fun guy to be around!

Kai would like it if you got along with Nya too.

Not only would he get an additional lil sib, said sib gets along with his bio sib! Win-Win!

Lloyd

Ok so

This one is the youngest if we ignore the part where you're seen as the youngest sib/are the youngest.

Since he never actually 'grew up', and had to deal with some sorta potion that deals with ages(it's froma certain episode I don't exactly remember) I feel Lloyd would be more... Eh, awkward.

Assuming you were with the ninja from the beginning, Lloyd joined in later on, and it'd probably feel weird to him seeing he can now refer to you as 'lil sib'.

Maybe you'd be the one that got him back into mischief making.

Not too far to the point where y'all end up summoning even more legendary tribes, but harmless pranks and such.

Or you'd be able to help him adjust to life as a grownup! Who knows?

Lloyd, I feel would be one who tries to deal with things more... Idk, his way.

When protecting you, the amount of power that goes into his attacks depends on the level of danger, but the main priority is to keep everyone safe, which includes you.

Seeing as the ninja often made him stay behind on missions when he was still a kid, I think Lloyd would sympathize more with you on the whole having to stay behind bc "mission to dangerous for lil sib" thing.

Nya

This gonna be a lil shorter-

Will sympathize with you as well in the whole having to stay behind missions thing.

(Og Ninjago fans will remember what she did in s1 during that whole samurai thing)

During that time period, she'll maybe help you w your own contraption so that you can do missions as well.

Oho but during the part she found out she got her mom's powers?

She bout to go ham on those tryna hurt her lil sib ':)

And that's all I got. I hope this is likeable, and I apologize for this being rather very long anon!

-SMS

(new signature)

#ninjago #lloyd garmadon #kai ninjago #cole ninjago #jay ninjago #zane ninjago #ninjago hc #my hcs

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makings-of-a-cameo · 2 years ago

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Is it real or anxiety?

I do not want to disclose what my job title or where I work but I will say I work for a well known hosptial that is ranked high. The hosptial where I work, has many top specialist in their field that bring in many patients from all over the world. I interact with many differnt types of people with differfernt demographics, culture, and backgrounds. That also includes those I work with as well. I interact with majority of departments on different issues. My specific role puts me into intense situations, whether that being from the medical team/administrative or the patient's themselves by either the health concerns/personal dramas. I am involved in their lives at the worst times of their lives. It is understandable that their emotions get the best of them. With that being said, after the pandemic the medical field has taken a hard hit emotionally and physically. It has been 3 years since the beginning and we are not close to bounding back and true across the country. The pandemic took a massive toll on mental health and due to that the behaviors of patients have increasingly become agressive. More so than ever before. The statistics are almost quadrupled compaired to how it used to be. When these situations arise, I am placed right in the middle. It has lead me to fixate on all my interactions with staff and patients/families. "Did I say the right thing?", "Could I have done more?", "Does the team think I supported them or do they feel like I left them out to dry?". Sometimes it gets the best of me and I question if I am even good at my job. It leads my think if I am even good at my job. On paper, I got a promotion after 8 months, I received an award, and I have grown immensely in my position this year. When I am in the moment, I wonder if everyone thinks I am not qualified for this job. I am the youngest on my team and the least experienced. Sometimes these situations are draining emotionally. Don't get me wrong, I know that I am doing what I am meant to do in life but doubt is always under the surface. I hear all the wonderful feedback I recive from patients and mainly my colleagues, but why can't I feel this way on my own. I have felt that I was doing better mentally but now I am thinking I just been avoiding and now its manifesting. Anxiety has always been there but it's becoming to much. I do not want to go home and be upset with myself that may or may not be an issue at work. During the day, there is no issue but once I walk through my front door it consumes me. I need to find a to love myself better.

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willowmistry · 2 years ago

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AYESHA MADON // have you seen WILLOW MISTRY around the crash site? we’re trying to make sure they’re still alive after the crash! according to the manifesto SHE is a TWENTY FOUR year old CIS WOMAN. i hear they’re known being a PERSONAL ASSISTANT. WILLOW is also known to be FRIENDLY yet also SHALLOW at times. we have a couple questions for WILLOW when we find SHE, we heard something about a secret they might have? such as SAID SHE WAS VISITING A FAMILY MEMBER IN THE US BUT REALLY WAS VISITING HER SIGNIFICANT OTHER THAT HER PARENTS DON’T KNOW ABOUT!

triggers. none

BASIC STATS—

NAME: Willow Mistry

NICKNAMES: Will, Misty

GENDER & PRONOUNS: CIS Woman & she/her

AGE & DOB: Twenty Four & 16 May

BIRTHPLACE: Sydney, Australia

ORIENTATION: Bisexual

BIOGRAPHY—

Willow grew up in a rather large household in Sydney. She was the second youngest, with a brother ten years older than her. Her mum also came from a larger family and her father a smaller one. The Mistry house was always kind of chaotic. Between after school activities and school functions, there was never a calm day in their house. Willow thrived in the chaos of it all, finding time for herself whenever she could. Unlike her siblings, Willow was never a "go getter" like her parents wanted her to be. She was social, but she didn't really like the concept of being involved in tons of activities. She would rather focus on her own peers than school, which really annoyed her parents. While her parents weren't super strict, they did want the best for their children and Willow was constantly in trouble for not doing what she should be doing. But she was a happy child, always smiling, doodling on anything she could, and constantly had her head in the clouds.

She really found who she wanted to be in high school. Like many of her friends, they were obsessed with fashion, but Willow especially had an eye for it. She loved coming up with fun ideas for clothing, inspired by nature and putting together outfits for her friends when they went out. It wasn't a career that she knew was simple to get into, but she still spend most of her time designing her own clothing line and focusing on developing her drawing skills. In the last two years of her schooling, she focused on finding a career path that didn't necessarily put her in university. Her parents were not pleased with this choice she made and the last two years of school, it was a point of contention between the three of them. Even her siblings took sides. But ultimately, Willow was stubborn enough that her parents figured she wasn't going to back down and relented.

She joined the workforce at eighteen, as a personal assistant to a woman who worked at a fashion magazine. Willow had no experience in the field, but she was determined to show her worth without going to university. And she did just that, within a few short months, she had proven herself to her boss. The work was not always easy, but Willow felt like she was doing well with her life. Although she was not making the same amount of money any of her siblings were, who had all ended up in careers that paid well. Willow was happy though. She flourished in the chaos of the magazine and got to see a lot of the newest fashions before anyone else, which was what she loved. The hours might have been long and often times thankless, but Willow didn't care because she was happier than if she would have gone to school. As she worked, she slowly started taking design courses.

At the age of twenty one, Willow met Tom, who worked in the fashion department as a personal assistant. The two hit it off and Willow was really excited when Tom eventually asked her on a date. She knew her parents would probably never approve of the match, but Willow didn't really care because she really enjoyed spending time with Tom. Her parents eventually met them, but Willow never mentioned they were dating. It was devastating when Tom eventually was picked to move to San Francisco where the magazine was opening a publication in America. While the two of them were not excited about the distance, Willow knew her life was still in Sydney for a little while longer. They decided to keep dating and would talk as often as they could, but also write letters to each other. It was difficult, though she was excited every time she got to hear Tom's voice on the phone.

Willow eventually saved up enough money that she could go visit Tom. But she used the excuse of visiting an aunt that lived in the general area. Her parents had no idea she was lying and that she had been lying to them for three years. She couldn't bring herself to explain that she had fallen in love because her parents questioned basically everything about her life. Willow packed her bags and found herself in America for two whole weeks. She loved it and when the time was up, she reluctantly got on a plane to go home.

PERSONALITY—

She's a very active person and doesn't sit still well. Willow pays attention to details and is always doodling on something. She seems a lot younger than she actually is at times though because she loved to complain. She's very stubborn. While she will strike up a conversation with just about anyone, Willow can be annoying when it comes to the topic of conversations as sometimes she just talks to talk. She can also come off as shallow and if she's doing something she really doesn't want to do, everyone will hear about it. If she wants to be alone, she's usually the type to grab her sketch pad and hide behind a drawing, but she refuses to communicate when she doesn't want to be around people. It's honestly very rare to see her in those moods though.

#syfy.intro #intro #willow / about.#about.#i did not proof this

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beardedmrbean · 2 years ago

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Police in San Francisco are investigating a shooting inside a synagogue during which the unidentified suspect may have fired blanks rather than live rounds Wednesday night in what a synagogue official called an attempt to terrorize Jewish people.

The synagogue didn't report the incident until Thursday morning. No injuries or property damage were reported.

Officers responded to a report of threats at the synagogue around 9:30 a.m. Thursday, the San Francisco Police Department said in a statement early Friday.

The person who made the report described an incident around 7:20 p.m. Wednesday in which an unknown man entered the building and "shot several times," police said.

"To me, this feels like an act of terrorism. The point was to terrify the Jewish people here," Alon Chanukov, the synagogue's vice president, told KRON-TV.

KRON reported that the incident Wednesday was captured on video. A man wearing a baseball cap, jacket and sneakers enters a room with more than a dozen people at a table and makes hand gestures before taking out a gun and firing around the room. The man then waves and exits less than a minute after entering the room.

Police did not name the synagogue.

Chanukov said the witnesses didn't call police after the suspect fired the rounds believed to be blanks, but he phoned authorities Thursday morning.

"I don't think people knew what was happening. We are talking about elderly people. The youngest being 60, then 70s and 80s," Chanukov said, adding that there was a fear about retaliation from speaking out.

Police noted there was another report of a person with a gun at a theater on the same block Tuesday night. A man brandished a gun at employees and then fled on foot.

Police said the events appeared to be unrelated to the synagogue incident on Wednesday, but the similar descriptions indicate the man in each report is "possibly the same individual." Investigators were searching for the suspect on Friday.

The latest synagogue incident came as a man suspected of throwing a Molotov cocktail at the front door of a synagogue in northern New Jersey last weekend was arraigned on Thursday and amid evidence of growing antisemitism nationwide.

#nunyas news #cw: hate crime #weirdness

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apostasirpg · 16 days ago

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APÓSTASI (a depth between)

12:48 p.m. 28 March, 2015, The Saronic Gulf

Pireaus-Asteria Ferry

The sun strand creeping over the edge of the ferry’s roof is warm on Lian’s skin, easing the spring cool of the Mediterranean. An ebbing of a crisp salted aroma and the undulating sway of the sea nudge her closer to sleep, the muted whispers of the few other passengers and the disquiet echo of footsteps on hollow metal keeping her afloat. Her destination, Asteria, has been in lockdown over the past half-year, and her undue assignment is to serve as observational lead from the Library–the United Federation of Nations’s foreign intelligence operative arm–in accessing the situation.

She sighs.

The last fourteen hours have been a naught less than a whirlwind sprint, from the early morning phone call–a professional obligation she could not refuse–arranging a last minute sitter for her son –adopted, for all the wrong reasons–the last minute flight to Athens–that she nearly missed–the unsubtly racist taxi driver she had tried her best to make simple conversation within until she got to port–she thought no less than two times about pulling her gun to command him to cease speaking–and now here. Bobbing on sea, at least, felt almost relaxing, the precipice of being unburdened by duty and obligation, muted by inevitability of her mission and the lack of human presence.

She tries her best to make the most of the moment, imagining the perhaps it was closer to summer where a comfortable warmth sweeps the sea, when the ports and streets start to fill with tourists, at a time when she might just be able to let go and relax. In better circumstances, she could return to this. But she made her choices, decades ago, and the door is closed to her. To have seen what she has seen and to know what she has come to know, well, often comes at a price, and this is hers.

“Agent Jiang, we have are due to arrive at port in twenty minutes,” a deep, smooth voice, posh and English, cuts her from her thoughts, “If it is not untoward, may I suggest we make for the car and prepare for departure?”

She sighs and turns to him, a uselessly tall boy in salute. Barely an adult, pale as a ghost, hair ashen white. Athletically built, though a bit on the bony side of thin. Were it not for his violet eyes one might’ve mistaken him as a character ripped from their limited existence in a black-and-white television show. The black shirt, black slacks, black shows, and gray Chesterfield do little to alleviate it.

“Drop the salute, Augusta,” her eyes narrow,”Loosen up a little as well.”

“M-my apologies, ma’am,” he goes into a slight bow before jerking back up, standing stiff. She sighs.

“Your apologies are unnecessary,” she waves him on, “I’ll be along shortly. If I do not join you before arrival I will be waiting on the port when you depart.”

“Of course, m-ma’am.”

Rivelin Augusta, is Lian’s least favorite person right now. Among the youngest to ever joined the ranks of the Library, and perhaps the least fit for duty at this stage, he was thrusted upon her in her early morning delirium. ‘A simple, non-combat affair’ she was told, ‘his talents are complementary to yours’ they said, honeyed words accompanied unfulfillable promises of actual vacation time. It is not that he is unbearably awful (merely just bearably), but his posh disposition, formalities, social ineptitude, and overeagerness to perform jabbed at her in all the wrong ways. Worse still, he arrived on an earlier flight and took the rental car from the airport half an hour before she could deplane, forcing her to parlay with the taxi.

“Earlier, was it a mistake for me to not wait for–”

“No,” Yes, yes it was, “Just go, Augusta.”

He apologizes and excuses himself, his insecurities slipping through in a stammer. Lian cannot help but sigh, an involuntary reaction she fears is becoming a frequent occurrence on this mission. She stands from her seat, stretches her arms above her head, and looks past the front railing of the deck, the island city of Asteria and its haze of tragedy sitting clear on the horizon before them.

* * *

1:52 p.m.

The Town of Asteria

Augusta took the wheel of their government-issued car–a worn, two-door luxury car from the early nineties–and set off from the port to the local hospital, for all of the wrong turns it Augusta to navigate his way there. The GPS misread every road as closed due to the lockdown, so Lian was forced to instruct him on when and where to turn based on an out-of-date print-out map, but at least the lack of people in the streets meant few had to bear witness to their mistakes

Perhaps it was unwise to let someone who has only recently ceased to be an actual child drive, in a foreign country no less, but better to let him gain the experience here rather than in a emergency situation. Regardless of her internal irritation, she holds herself together as best she can. She too once had been thrust into this world at a young age, and given that most Library Personnel have sealed internal files privy in full to few, she knows little of what circumstances have led him here to this moment.

The hospital lies up northward a bit past the dense menagerie of light-colored buildings and narrow streets of the recently revitalized of the port and harbor districts, courtesy of the wealthier members of the town’s immigrant-majority community. Roads roughen further, accidental loops around one-way streets and u-turns at dead-end streets. Runaway vines, weeds breaking through dilapidated concrete, and the pristine, bright buildings dull and crack. Brand name stores, national chains, and hotels give way to apartments, homes, and local shops, nature slowly reclaiming the space between as they come in view of the hospital.

Augusta grips the wheel, arms straight, eyes focused on the road before him. Lian eyes him curiously from the corner of her vision, not wanting to pressure him and potentially frighten him into driving right into a wall but still well within her vision to observe. He swallows, Adam’s apple plunging and rising, a drop of sweat dangling on his chin. In profile he almost appears aquiline, and were he to cease all motion one might almost mistake him to be a statue of antiquity.

“So, this hospital, they know we’re coming, right?” he asks, the first words he’s spoken since so confidently boasting about his driving ability upon departing the port.

“They have been informed. We are to rendezvous with the Police Director for Asteria beforehand, one Serigy Klymenko,” Lian recites the information as though it was common knowledge. Meetings, expectation settings, boundaries, and a slew of red tape to establish before Augusta and her can enact their mission. Augusta nods, staring forward as he takes a turn and drives past a worn, off white sign with ‘Γενικό Νοσοκομείο Αστεριών/ Asteria General Hospital’ writ in a faded teal.

A stout guard stops them at the gate and–avoiding Lian–asks Augusta for the reason for their visit. He presents there documentation and his badge, a spiked, platinum sphere reminiscent of the planet, to which the guard apologizes and directs them to park in employee parking zone. He states that Klymenko meet and escort them from there. Augusta thanks the man in what can little be described as the most butchered sounding ευχαριστώ one could imagine, eliciting a small chuckle from the guard, and drives forward.

The hospital grounds are uncomplicated affair, a main boulevard circling the primary building with well-maintained grounds breaking up the monotony of concrete with verdancy. Employee parking is separated from the public’s by a small split from the road and a sign, not that there appears to be any method of enforcement, least that Lian can surmise. Augusta turns in and parks, in a space away from the building proper, while Lian peers at the row of police cars all parked close to the hospital’s back entrance.

A uniformed man leans against the car, eyes closed, smoking a cigarette. Cropped blond hair, square faced, lighter complexion. Klymenko, Lian surmises to Augusta. He nods, asks if there’s anything he should be prepared for, and she responds to just be matter-of-fact and doesn’t say any more than he really needs to. Augusta doesn’t respond enthusiastically, but she assures him it is best to keep their intentions and story simple for now.

A second man emerges from the police car, thinner and younger than Klymenko, with dark hair and a deeper olive complexion. He signals to the Police Director of your arrival, to which he merely twists his head to glance in their direction, frowns, and goes back to his cigarette, unwilling to leave his shaded reprieve. The younger officer’s shoulder fall and he takes a breath before speaking to Klymenko once more before he is once again rebuffed and makes his way over to their car. Augusta rolls down his window in advance.

“Pardon me, but I am guessing you are the guests from the Library,” he asks, accent thick.

“That is correct. I am Agent Rivelin Augusta, and this,” he gestures toward Lian,” is Agent Jiang Lian.”

“It is nice to meet you. I am Lieutenant Christos Chatzis. Director. Serigy Klymenko is over there,” he gestures back towards the hospital, “I, uh, apologize for him in advance.”

“For?” Augusta raises a brow.

“Just how he has been lately,” Chatzis takes a deep breath, “It is not for me to talk about, sorry. Just… don’t take his attitude too personally.”

“Shouldn’t be much of an issue,” Lian opens her door and stands up, speaking to Chatzis from across the top of the car, “I’m accustom to dealing with far worse than one moody police officer.”

Lian starts to march over to Klymenko, Chatzis quickly following and Augusta tripping out of the car and rushing to catch up. Klymenko responds to their approach by glancing at them, eyes furrowed, before returning to focus on his cigarette.

“Guessing you’re them?” Klymenko calls outs, head titled downwards, eyes mired in displeasure. He makes no attempt to meet them halfway as his cigarette finishes in his mouth, puffing out a cloud of smoke toward the sky as he stares at the butt slowly burning out.

“Police Director Serigy Klymenko, I presume,” Lian flashes her documentation and badge to him, “Agent Lian Jiang and,” she gestures towards Augusta, “Agent Rivelin Augusta. You have received the debriefing, I hope?”

“Ah,” he hands his the butt of his cigarette to his partner, who goes off to dispose of it in an ironically-placed ashtray atop a bin by the hospital backdoors, “Yeah, I read it. Don’t like to have to play ambassador with the Library, but I don’t have much choice here with all of this,” he turns and waves them to follow.

“We appreciate the hospitality, sir,” Lian grants him some deference. No need to antagonize someone who does not want you here, regardless of whether or not he has the authority to defy you. As an agent of the Library and by extension of the U.N.A., Lian and Augusta in theory have absolute authority over the local place, though the rules and caveats around exercising that power incentives cooperation and deference. Certain powers are to be limited in only the most dire of circumstances.

Klymenko gives a noncommittal grunt and leads them into the building as his partner rejoins them. Past the hefty doors, two officers salute Klymenko and Chatzis and give Lian and Augusta noncommittal looks, their eyes ever so slightly narrowed. The interior of the building, as one might suspect, consists of an almost-beige off-white walls and dark blue flooring, footsteps clattering in intervals throughout long hallways. Locker and break rooms line this hallway–unsurprising, given they came in the employee entrance–but it takes a two minutes to walk to make their way to an unoccupied desk.

Klymenko rounds it and picks up a phone and dials a number.

“They’re here–yes I have–does it really matter?” Klymenko sighs, annoyed, “Yeah, yeah. We’ll be here.”

He returns the phone and sits down as he boots up the computer and taps on at the keyboard, fingers disjointedly darting and stopping between letters as his brow furrows. At a punctuated, final tap of a key he sighs and leans back in the chair, but only ever so slightly as to not tip over.

“Anastos and Goswami will join us shortly,” he states. The Hospital Administrator and the President of the Board of Directors respectively; her debriefing includes profiles on both of them.

Dr. Loukas Anastos is a born-and-raised native to Asteria, the Anastos family stretching back generations as far as recorded history indicates. Educated in Athina and Berlin, a family man who married a childhood friend and has three kids, and fishes with his fathers in his free time. A clean record, and unlikely to warrant concern, though Lian has been around long enough to know better than to assume surface-level observations constitute the whole of person.

Dr. Puja Goswami, on the other hand, is the more curious anomaly here. A well-educated business woman and doctor from Bharat, married to the fourth-in-line brother of the influential Goswami Group. The Goswamis originally came to Asteria thirty years ago and played a vital part in the town’s revitalization from a desolate government-designated ghetto for immigrants and refugees. While her husband is often traveling on family affairs, Goswami herself has rooted herself in Asteria with her two kids. The Goswami Group has no known public activities that has warranted the Library’s attention, yet there is enough legal tape surrounding some of their projects that encourage a cautious approach.

Klymenko looks around at the nurses passing by, the four of them standing around in extended silence. At one point, Klymenko’s face softens and eyes dart to Chatzis, the two of them nodding back to one another. With a wave Klymenko stands up and says he’ll be back shortly, commanding Chatzis to keep watch over the two of them, and departs down a hallway calling out to a nurse. Though Lian does not understand what he says, she does recognize the name ‘Olena’ in his speech.

“His wife,” Chatzis offers, “Strong woman, keeps the Director straight.”

“Happily married, I would hope?” Lian asks.

“Much so,” Chatzis turns his head back in direction where Klymenko had run off before returning to the two of them in a quieter, hushed voice, “Though, it’s been difficult for the two of them. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, but,” Augusta tilts his head, hands politely clasped in front of him, while Lian narrows her eyes in curiosity, “You’ll find out eventually, but one of the victims is his son, Kyrylo.”

***

In the waning months of 2014, eighteen children between the ages of 7 and 11 disappeared in Asteria. The first three raised alarum, but little was done. By the fourth disappearance in October, the town issued a curfew after 7:00 p.m., brought to 5:00 p.m. after the tenth in November. After the thirteenth in December, the curfew had been escalated into a full lockdown., and by the time of the final disappearance on 24 December a portion of the Hellenic National Guard had been brought in to assume patrol, escort, and investigative duties over the town.

Following the establishment of the army’s presence, media access to Asteria was severely limited and residents were highly advised to remain quiet on social media and to outside calls . With the lockdown, all incoming ferries and goods were treated as though they were arriving from a foreign country, intercity movement had to be approved and supervised by either the police or army, and extensive records were kept and tracked to aid in the investigation. Despite every measure taken, a few other–though notably non-juvenile–individuals could not be accounted for and for months on end no progress was made into solving the disappearances.

That was until on 25 March, where an explosion rang out from a branch laboratory of Larsen Pharmaceuticals located up on the mountain, twenty or so minutes beyond the municipal limits. The company had operated on the island since the early nineties, named after the prominent Scandinavian family who founded in it. While the cause of the explosion remains unconfirmed–reports indicate internal sabotage to a gas line)–authorities had swarmed the facility and rescued eleven of the seventeen missing children. The remaining six were found in a desolated morgue within the facility, in varying states.

Of the eleven children, four were airlifted to other hospitals at the behest of the victim’s parents. The remaining seven stayed in Asteria, where they’ve were quarantined in the local hospital and were placed under heavy surveillance. The UFN and the Library jointly agreed to investigate the situation, having regulated themselves to an observational-only role in early December. Lian Jiang, despite being officially retired as a field agent, was personally requested to head up the investigation, and was assigned Rivelin Augusta to be her understudy and partner on the mission. Additional agents were assigned to the other children.

Officially assigned to Asteria under the guise to ensure the children’s well-being and audit the security measures and actions taken, both agents are aware that the true intention of their investigation runs deeper far beyond the surface of their cover.

***

4:30 p.m.

Asteria General Hospital, Pediatric Intensive Care Unit

Anastos, an older, balding man in a white coat, and Goswami, an intense woman dressed in a black pantsuit and with a bag slung over her shoulder, lead the group to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) on the third floor of the hospital. Klymenko, having rejoined them prior to the newcomers’ arrival, and Chatzis hung back, their sole purpose now to be escorts. Anastos pitched Lian and Augusta with all the little details of the hospital, pointing out the location of restrooms and the cafeteria, directing them to the emergency exits and stairwells, chatting them up as though they were regulatory inspectors or potential investors. Lian entertained him as much as she could, asking leading questions to pry out answers she couldn’t care less about and catching small tidbits to lead him onto tangents. Goswami spoke little, a few words of context scattered here and there, her head held high and face unreadable, preferring to allow Anastos to make conversation. It wasn’t until they reached the PICU that she took over.

“We have arrived,” she flatly stated, cutting off Anastos’s tirade about HR’s lack of accountability about nurses and residents intermingling on the hospital grounds. From under her arm, she pulls out seven thick folder of papers and hands them to Augusta, “These are the victims’ medical and personal information. We have been as thorough as the timeframe permitted.”

Augusta shifts through them, each file labeled with a name;

L. Alexandru

E. Iliopolous

B. Im

K. Klymenko

T. Ojo

V. Padapolous

M. Riviera

Peering over Augusta’s shoulder as he skims the documents, Lian notes that Goswami may have understated her efforts. Besides their initial medical and psychological evaluations, she there seems to be birth records, educational reports, extracurriculars, previous doctor visits, and passport records. Impressive work in such short order.

“I can assure that these documents were all obtained through legal matters,” Goswami responds, seeing Lian’s thoughts through her face, “I coordinated extensively with the hospital administration, local government, and the Goswami Group’s lawyers to obtain these records, for your convenience.”

“For which I thank you,” Lian does not detect subterfuge in her tone, but someone of her stature most likely knows to mask it. She clearly wants to project herself and the Goswami Group as a cooperative, non-impeding partner to The Library. For now, Lian obliges her, “Your efforts and generosity is greatly appreciated, Dr. Goswami.”

“Please, call me Puja.”

“As you wish, Puja,” Goswami holds her hand out, which Lian shakes. She detests referring to others by their given name. It implies a familiarity, a friendliness, a personal attachment, all things that she need cast aside for the worst of her job. Surnames permit distance with the veneer of respect and honor, hiding the personal in favor of the professional, a defensive layer of socially acceptable detachment. Though Goswami’s offer is mere overture towards fostering good will, Lian still finds herself annoyed.

Augusta passes a file toward Lian, labeled ‘L. Alexandru’. Female, age 9, born 12 January 2006. Preliminary examination indicates severe physical and mental trauma. A full examination was unable to be conducted due to the victim’s resistance to being touched, noted to be a shared trait among the seven of them. Victim is otherwise responsive to most questions, if vague and indistinct, and eats very little. Family contact confirmed, interviews with parents indicate average home life if otherwise impoverished. Average grades across the board, though high marks in the arts. Fond of cats, minor allergies, no major health issues of note. Hellenic citizenship passed by parental naturalization, Romanian citizenship by descent.

No much for them to work with, for the most part, not that Lian expected much. Asteria, despite the hospital’s decent funding from the Goswami Group, is not equipped to handle this kind of trauma–nor, given the implications, would any regular medical facility– and while the children are mostly stable for now, without further investigation and follow-up the extent of the damage they’ve suffered may never be truly known. It does solidify The Library’s suspicions, yet the elements at play here do not wholly confirm any immediate hypotheticals. Premature conclusions often lead to lack results, and Lian has been at this far too long to latch onto an easy explanation.

Inside the PICU Anastos and Goswami direct the group towards a closed room down a hallway on the far side of the wing. Through a wide window a makeshift-playroom lays, decorated and furnished by colorful chairs and various toys and books, not entirely dissimilar from a children’s classroom. The room’s walls are dual colored; lower half green and the other blue, with white blotches and yellow streaks dotting them in irregular intervals. Soft, classical music hums, loud enough to fill in the silence but quiet enough to be forgotten.

Four nurses mingle about the seven children scattered throughout, light streaming in from the afternoon sun. The children are listless and disengaged, some merely sitting downcast and others in half-hearted attempt to engage with the toys and books and what-else-have-you. Five of the seven are dispersed separately from one another, as though they were almost all repelled by one another. Two boys in the center, one with black hair and a white crew-neck and the other brown-haired in a white button-up, sit together, chair’s pulled together, their hands clasped and laying on the edge of their seats between them.

“They have been like this since their rescue,” Goswami breathes, eyes downcast, “Despite our best efforts, they’ve spoken very little. And from that little, we are no closer to understanding what happened to them.”

“What about the two boys,” Augusta points towards them, “The others are scattered, but they are together.”

“Ah, yes,” Goswami slips out a small notepad from her bag and flips a few pages, “Iliopolous and Im. They were found together, according to the Hellenic National Guard, and they have been inseparable since.”

“Any discernible reason for that behavior?” Augusta looks straight onward towards the two boys, eyes focused, shoulders straight. He sees something in them, Lian perceives, a misalignment in the planes of reality, a corruption of natural order, but there’s something else there. Recognition perhaps, she ponders, but in what regard? Augusta’s internal profile is rather sparse–a commonality of those in the Library–but this enshrouded expression confirms suspicions that there’s something more at work.

“None that we’ve can confidently say,” Goswami slips her notepad back into her bag and affixes her gaze back into the room, “According to our initial interviews and background checks with the children and their parents, all seven appear to have been acquainted or friendly in varying capacities. Nothing definitively indicates the two boys would be more connected than the others are.” Goswami sighs, dull and heavy.

“And on the less definite side?” Lian baits and flicks her gaze between Augusta and the other three men. His eyes meet with her’s, slides around behind her and goes off to Anastos, Chatzis, and Klymenko, conversing with them and leading them ever so slightly out of earshot of the two women.

“I have several theories, based on our limited observations,” Goswami hesitates, eyes glancing back toward the younger man as he regales the others, “I… should not engage speculation without full access to police reports and a thorough examination, but I am assuming compatibility of some kind, in regards to what befell them. The most I can say is that they seem to calm each other, for what it is worth.”

“Have you been able to determine anything concerning their captivity?”

“Beyond the psychological and limited physical trauma, no,” she sighs, closing her eyes for a second, “It has been a delicate situation, as you can understand. There is little more I can share further on the record than what I already have.”

“And if we were to consider the next few moments “off the record?” Lian nudges her on.

“Human experimentation,” Goswami huffs under her breath, “To what end or how, I cannot say. I will offer up that, at least on my own observations, that amongst the seven, Iliopolous–” she points to one of the two boys sitting together,”–appears as though he was the “favored” one.”

Lian eyes shift to the boy beyond the window, unbrushed black hair, olive skin, eyes vacant, his hand in the other boy’s hand, “How so?”

“I oversaw each examination alongside Anastos, but kept separate notes that I have not shared those with anyone. My observations extend beyond what Anastos sought fit to report.”

“May I ask why not offer up your own?”

“Because I do not trust Anastos, Lian,” she whispers, voice seething, “I am sure you have seen it in him. The front he puts on, the salesman approach to conversation, the disaffected obliviousness. I can offer no evidence against him, but I will recommend caution with him.”

“Understood”, Lian sees little reason to push her further, “At the very least, I thank you for sharing all this with me.”

“And I thank you for hearing me out,” Goswami nods and fall quiet for a moment, looking into the room. She sighs, “Based on the preliminary reports, you intend to speak to the children, correct?”

“As a part of my overall duties here, correct.”

“It is curious that The Library has taken a direct interest in all this. I will not inquire into the truth of the matter, but I would like to make it clear that despite being the Goswami Group’s representative, I am not here as puppet of my husband’s family, but as woman concerned about tragedy. I hope you understand that in your pursuit of knowledge.”

“Of course,” Lian agrees. Goswami clearly is more aware than she feels she can let on, but years of navigating boardroom politics has taught her to be conservative with the hand she is dealt, “But we are here as but an extension of our observer status. You can be assured that we have no interest in impeding the local and national authorities’ investigation.”

“My apologies for being overly presumptuous,” Puja bows slightly and looks to her time, “I suppose the time has come for you to speak with the children. I will confer with Anastos so that you may do so unimpeded.”

“Thank you.”

Goswami bows, excusing herself, and turns to the others, asking Augusta to step aside so that she may speak with the other men. Augusta steps aside and rejoins Lian. His eyes are focused, darting between the window and the others.

“I take it our suspicions have been confirmed,” her voice is low, just enough for Augusta to hear.

“Yes,” he responds, haggard, “I am afraid so.”

She nods, accepting Augusta’s observations. It is his expertise, after all, to see the unseen.

“We will have to speak to each of them.”

“If I may suggest whom we address first…” Augusta trails offs, eyes half-lidded and gazing towards the room.

“The two boys, correct?”

“Yes. I feel as though given the anomaly of their closeness in comparison to the self-isolating–”

“You don’t need to plead your case,” Lian cuts him off, “I agree with your suggestion. We will speak to the boys first.”

Augusta takes a moment and nods, his brow softening ever so slightly. His emotional volatility is transparent and Lian needs him to keep it together while they are here. She may not know his past, but she has done this enough to recognize the signs of someone who has succumbed to a similar fate. Once many years ago she was much the same, a youth stricken by tragedy and betrayal shortly thrusted into a grander game and forced to confront the depths of humanity’s depravity.

Coming to an agreement, they approach the other group. Chatzis is first to notice, followed by Klymenko, Goswami, and finally Anastos. The agents will be given independent reign to speak to the children, with the nurses still present, while the officers will guard the hall and the admins will observe from the window.

***

A small radio plays classical music at low hum as they enter. None of the children turn up at their presence, all seven of them One of the nurses stands up, saying a few words to the child they were with–Klymenko’s son, a blond and blue-eyed youth a year or two older than the rest–before departing and greeting Lian and Augusta. She greets them, introduces herself and gives them a brief refresher of the children and their background. Lian thanks and dismisses her, to her confusion, to which Augusta assures her that they are professionals and offers his hand to shake on it. The nurse hesitates, unsure, but returns his hand with hers. Their skin connects, and as she pulls away, her shoulders let go and her expression softens, quietly adjourning herself to the others so the two of them can work.

They round the two boys, in the center of the room, Lian on Iliopolous’s side and Augusta on Im’s, and squatting down to reach something closer to eye level with them. Enough room is left between them, to allow a barrier of safety. They both greet the boys, exchanging first names, slowly and patiently waiting to respond. Iliopolous is the first to react, heavy eyes sliding to Im for a moment of silent consideration before either of them turn back to look at the agents flanking them. His mouth moves a few times over, mimicking words unspoken before he manages to find something he can vocalize.

“Hi.”

One word, but it is something, “It is nice to meet you. Do you mind if we talk for a bit?”

The boy hums in response, a vague affirmative and a weak nod. Progress is progress.

Lian continues on, keeping their dialogue–largely one-sided–going, pushing and relenting as she needs. He needs to be comfortable enough with her for her to do what she musts, no matter the time it may take. Simple questions, like where did you grow up, what is your favorite color, do you have any pets, and so forth flow out one after another, follow-ups and shared anecdote shared liberally.

While Lian speaks to Iliopolous, Augusta manages to convince Im to move just a table away. Both boys were initially unwilling to part, hands locked in one another, but they compromised on still being within sight of one another. Even as they speak further, the boys keeping looking to the other, often spacing out and forgetting either agent is there.

It takes nearly an hour, but in time Iliopolous speaks more and more, shifting from one-word responses to full–if simple–sentences. It is a balancing act, a back-and-forth volley with a solid-yet-infinitely-fragile brick wall. Regardless of how conversational they become with each other, the boys do not go more than five minutes at most before making sure the other is still in the room with them.

“You two seem close. Are you friends?” Lian is curious, turning the topic to the other boy. She has a theory, one that may need a little prodding. She had yet to ask about the other boy, but given the progress so far it may be beneficial to push a little more.

“Yeah,” he replies, voice trailing off, “He’s… very important to me. I don’t want to be without him.”

“I see. How long have you know each other?”

“A while. Since we started school. We both played football together. A-and we hung out a lot too…”

“Sounds like you both were very active together. Did you live near each other?”

“N-no,” he shakes his head, “He was downtown with the big buildings. My house was away from the everything.”

“Ah, I see. Did the two of you have any other friends you played with?”

“I… I don’t remember. I can’t remember a lot of things since…”

“It’s okay,” she soothes, “You said he is important. You have him, and he has you. That’s all that matters.”

“Y-yeah,” he trails off, looking over to Im. He goes quiet, mouth again moving trying to find the words to say something. After a minute, he stops, letting quiet settle over the two of them. His posture is less stiff than before, his breathing a little slower, face less harsh. Now is probably the best moment, Lian decides.

“Do you mind if I ask you a small favor?” she softly asks.

He turns back to her and hesitates. A few seconds and another glance later, he nods, “Sure.”

“I will ask just two things of you, and if you do those two things it will help you feel a little bit better. All you will need is close your eyes and let me hold your hand,” she pauses before continuing, letting her words settle in him, “Is that okay?”

“I don’t know…”

“I promise you will be okay. I will not hurt you,” she modifies her tone of voice to her ‘motherly’ one, for all the sense that she even has one, “It’s hard to trust. I know. I felt just like you once too. Unsure. Lost. Alone. It is scary. It is hard to live with. But trust in me that I will not hurt you.”

He looks at her, eyes struggling to maintain contact. For moment Lian believes she had fully fumbled and pulled the trigger too early, but the boy takes a breath, looks towards Im, and then back to her.

“O-okay,” he replies. He may not be fully committed to the idea, but is still willing and that is all she needs. She removes her gloves, feeling the cool air brush along her fingertips and down along her palm.

“Let’s begin. First, close your eyes, and focus on your breathing,” she commands, letting him sit in his own calm before moving on,”In and out. In and out. Just focus. Let everything fall from you.”

“Hmm.”

“Good, now, hold out your hand and I will gently place mine with yours.”

***

As their hands connect, Lian greets an infinite darkness, plunging herself beyond the confines of the somatic reality. She lifts from herself, mind and soul departing body, her physicality snapping into an unfeeling weightlessness, unchained from her anchor. Her knowledge, her rationality, her quintessence, her emotion, her idea, all relinquished into the beyond, breaching the boundaries of reality.

The body is the base form for which we all experience reality, and for most it is the only one they may ever consciously experience. But there are more spheres to everything than just the somatic one, for every person possesses not only body but mind and soul as well. Whereas your body is the primary vessel you live your life from, the whole of your person extend into the other two. Your mind is your reason, your knowledge, your memory, the rationality that bridges and connects body to soul. The soul is the purest essence of the self, your emotion, your feeling, your truth, an abstraction of who you are and all of you could ever be.

The body and soul exist on coexisting planes, moving in tandem with one another via the mind. Minds do not exist in tandem with one another on a plane; rather, they are dense, solitary labyrinths that exist in isolation of every individual and serve as the link the allows a person’s soul to function in their body. These three aspects are required to sustain a person existence, lest their body becomes an empty husk and the soul becomes lost in the psychic plane.

Lian and Augusta are among few who can readily traverse these aspects, displacing herself from her somatic body and allowing her to interact with reality via her soul in the psychic plane. But the psychic plane is not her objective, but rather the mind of the boy. For she is one of an even fewer number who can look into the mind of another, launching her own perspective not through her own mind on the way to the psychic plane but rather using the boy’s body as the conduit to launch herself into his mind.

Her mind and soul stitch in and out, flowing delicately through the boy’s fragile existence to reach his mind. It is a fraught technique, needing such an incredible mastery of one’s own parts and understanding of the grand makeup that most flail out and return to themselves within the slightest moment. For the few who can thread themselves far enough to reach another’s Mind, they run the risk of colliding into an aspect of the labyrinth that would shatter their Mind and permanently sunder their Body and Soul, rendering them irretrievably lost. Lian is accustom to this, she knows the risks, she is aware of the danger. Yet she is the best there is, an artful dancer gliding in non-euclidean maze, effortlessly weaving herself into young Iliopolous’s Mind.

Her aspect emerges into darkness, his mind torn through, cosmic energy piercing through its weakened walls. Fragments of memories chip from the walls, cosmic tentacles latching onto the pieces and affixing them to the walls it was now trying to repair. Lights flash in and fade out as boy tries to recall something–anything–but the damage done makes it hard for him. Floors shift, hallways twist, ceilings become walls, walls become stairs, stairs become floors. The mind is ever moving, ever shifting, in constant reaction to somatic and psychic stimuli.

She observes. She waits. Every mind works in its own concert, its song unique and its structure a beast of its own. If she wishes to delve further, Lian must become an imposter to the choir. So she does, enjoining the vibrato and flowing through its disjointed hymn, constantly moving and observing the flashes of memory and knowledge that she passes by. Finessing through the notes is an art, and here she is but a master artist.

He is hurt, that much is obvious. But the damage done renders much of his recollections as flashes of emotion and areas of recent memory remain too far enshrouded in the cosmic for her to approach. The pain is fresh, the suffering he’s endured still close in his shadow. Images of tall, shadowed figures, blurred lights, glinting steel, a cacophony of sights and sounds scraped away at until they remained but suggestion of what they once were. A standard case study of trauma suppression, though based on the damage done that Lian surmises that the boy will only just be able suppress his own knowledge of the pain and not the pain itself.

There is, however, the other boy he was with, Im. His face and voice shine in this undulating chaos, a solid, consistent soft melody amongst cacophonous shrieks. An eerily clear imprint, one where the you can perceive the slight scar on his cheek, see the loose strands of his hair bounce as he moves about, the flurry of blue flecks in his green eyes that make them appear a sea green. Im is the point of focus in the photograph of Iliopolous mind, even in its darkest and most devastated depths.

Yet, despite clarity and abundance, Lian is unable to trace its roots. Under normal circumstances, a memory of that strength could be traced like one might trace the long-winded roots to a tree or a trail of crumbs to a mouse. In the mind, all connects to one another, one way or another. But here, in a Mind so violated, those lines are blurred, the connections weak and bleeding into one another. Where normally his memory of the other boy could be tracked to distinct memories, events, and knowledge, here it merely bleeds into everything else, all direct links blurred into a smoky cloud that drifts in all directions.

Further still, where the cosmic is thin, his memories are still yet dampened. Glimpses of a middle-aged woman and man, both olive-skinned and black hair, smiling and looking down. His parents, she presumes. A few others, a few fragments, go by here and there. One of a dog, a few of school, tunes of local hits, the smell of the Mediterranean, the heat of summer, commonalities of a boy his age. Following along the trails of his mind, Lian creeps farther from the physicality of him and towards his psychic essence, departing from memory and known truths to slowly seeing the abstract beliefs and knowable emotion that lives closer to the Soul.

It is there, toward the edge of the Mind, where it anchors itself into the Soul and the plane of the Soul, that she sees heavy destruction once more. Cosmic energy is heavy in its flow here, shattered walls and paths left to float in arrhythmic patterns, another convex dome pushing into the mind from the psychic plane. Both ends of the mind flanked, crushed, damage, yet still standing despite everything. Remarkable constitution, yet horrifying all the same.

The damage here is worse than the other, far too broken and shattered to try and approach. Emotional memory and knowledge is weak here, nigh impossible to ascertain. Yet, much like the other side, a flurry of trust and believe and hope and desire also swim around the notion of the other boy. And again, all these emotions are unable to be traced, a state of something that appears to be just be as it is with no corresponding association.

Bouncing between both ends of his mind, Lian discovers little more than what she witnessed in her first trip. Vague truths, Im’s presence, deep-seated traumatization. A ruination that runs deeps, that in spite of its attempts to mend itself it might never will never fully repair.

With little other options on the table before she need depart, Lian gathers herself and allows a small tinge of cosmic energy to flow in sync with herself. Opening herself, inviting in the infinite beyond, letting in just enough that it may not overtake her yet enough that it will grant her the strength to manipulate it in her own orbit. While her skillset makes her more of an observer, she does have a small degree of power to manipulate the inner workings of the mind. Nothing to the extent of crafting falsities, but enough strength to sway and aid in the restoration of the mind itself.

Letting the cosmic flow dance along her finger tips, a weight that she balances and swings around each digit. In one move, she swirls the energy into a condensed pinpoint on the edge of her fingers, creating a small gravity well that she grazes along the edges and fragments of the mind. Gently, she eases the cosmic and the mind into one another, a quiet plunge, mixing and synchronizing the elements into a harmonious force. Once accustom to one another, the cosmic forces allow her to shift and move parts of his mind, permitting the leverage she needs.

From there, it is an artful dance, drawing arcs with the wells to coax and nudge the elements as she needs. Delicate, intentional, subtle, not too fast, not too slow, not too much, but just little enough that benefit can be derived. Her fingers are anchors, attached to chains of fragile ships that she must guide to port. She must be calculated and attentive, for but the slightest error would cause more damage than she aims to mend.

In her left hand, her pointer finger, she drags a fold of his mind into another, using her thumb to stitch the two together, while her pinky reforms a misshapen pillar. In her right, she weaves and whips the Cosmos into a stilted retreat, sifting back through the cracks and sealing the rift as it dissipates. What may have been once a fragmented mess is reformed into a respectable shell, damage still present but not so mangled as to be beyond functionality.

She does as much as she can for him, as far as the strength of her own mind can withstand coexisting in another before she senses her will begin to falter. From there, she finishes and lets the energy slowly leave from her, in such a small amount that it gently returns to field and not burst forth causing more destruction. Soon, she feels the last of it leave her and lets herself become heavy and fall, a controlled spiral descent plunging through the mind of the boy and back out into his own body and through which she comes back unto herself.

***

Lian opens her eyes. The young Iliopolous is still here, unchanged and unaware of her intrusion. A good sign. She lets a small smile set upon her, before flowing back into conversation. Glancing at the clock, only mere seconds have passed, so short of time that neither the nurses haven’t noticed much amiss. Out of the corner of her eye, Lian notes that Anastos has turned away from them while Goswami still looks on, face unchanged from when they parted.

“Okay,” she says, letting the boy take a few more breaths before continuing, letting her own mind and soul settle back into rhythm with her own body, “you can open your eyes now.”

“Hmmm,” he mumbles, soft, and complies. They’re less empty than before, Lian, notes, a positive development. His hands slip back to him, folding over in his lap. Lian mimics him, giving him a moment to collect himself.

“Do you feel a little better?”

“Yeah,” he replies, voice still shaky, but more direct, “I… thank you. You were right.”

“I know it was hard, but I am happy you trusted me.”

“My head feels better now, I can think more, if you want to ask about… that.”

“There is no need,” Lian shakes her head. If he is to remember, it is better he comes into that on his own. Even with her own efforts, it will take some time before his recovery, “What matters is that you feel better now, and will feel better in the future. Do not let the past hurt you any more.”

His eyes look back and forth, a slight franticness, “Is Bo-Yeon still okay?”

“Your friend? Yes,” she points across the room, the boy’s eyes following her hand and then her finger, “He’s right over there with my friend.”

At another table, Augusta, ever the actor, was speaking to young Im, less disengaged than he was before but nowhere near as together as Iliopolous is now. Augusta does not possess the degree of skill that Lian does with the mind–she is but one of a handful who can–but he is capable of ascertaining mental and psychic status via his eyes and has the capacity to access the psychic plane via himself. Enough to assuage some pain, but ultimately it will be up to Lian to help each child alone.

“He’s… always caring about me, but he doesn’t let me care about him,” the boy fiddles with his jacket sleeve, rustling it in-between his fingers. Lian, still holding his one hand, nods, “I just… don’t want anything to happen to him.”

“He may not let you care, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep trying or that he doesn’t want you to,” Lian slips her gloves back on and holds out her hand, “Even if it seems hard, it will be better for you both to have each other,”

The boy nods in response, eyes still locked to the other two.

“Do you want to walk over to him?”

“Please,” the boy’s attention snaps to Lian, his tone slightly eager, “Can you help him feel better too?”

“That I can,” she chuckles. The two of them stand up and walk slowly over to Augusta and Im, hands still enjoined. Augusta notices them first, and quietly directs Im to look over to them. The other boy relaxes and his eyes widen ever so slightly as Iliopolous lets go of Lian and walks over to embrace him.

They don’t exchange words, but glances and gestures. Iliopolous nods at Im and flicks his head toward Lian. Im follows and lets go of Iliopolous, and turns towards her, head down, turning over his hands in each other and eyes struggling to meet hers. Lian quietly slips off a glove.

“H-hi,” Im barely musters.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Bo-Yeon,” she says, holding his unsteady gaze, holding out her hand for him, “I’ve heard a lot about you from Evangelos.”

***

11:23 p.m.

Asteria General Hospital, Pediatric Intensive Care Unit

The moon sat high by the time Lian had finished meeting with the seven children, each as broken and unreadable as the last. Though they were no closer finding out the truth of what befell them, there is enough detail there that she will be able to make a sufficient report to the Library proper. They both say their goodbyes to the children, all tired but now more themselves, and exit the room so the nurses can prep them for a late snack and bedtime.

“I presume all has gone as you had hoped, Lian?,” Goswami asks as they exit, Klymenko by her side. Anastos and Chatzis are nowhere to be seen, “Dr. Anastos has retired for the evening. The lieutenant escorted him and others home for the evening”

“I commend the hospital for taking excellent care of the children,” she responds, an honest half truth, “In spite of everything, I am assured of all of your efforts in this unprecedented time.”

“Will he–they be okay?” Klymenko asks, the late hour taking a toll on his composure.

“I am optimistic to their recovery, Director,” she assuages him, “It may take time and there may be highs and lows, but I remain hopeful.”

He sighs and hangs his head, neither placated nor defeated. It is understandable that he’d seek a more definitive answer, but Lian had learned a long time ago that fueling the fire of a vulnerable man oft leads to more destructive outcomes.

“You lot are going to the lab tomorrow, right?” Klymenko chimes in.

“That is correct, Director,” Lian confirms.

“The National Guard will want advance notice before we arrive, so we will plan to escort you two there around noon in the evening tomorrow. Give us all get a chance to catch up on rest.”

“That will work for us,” Augusta speaks up, “I suppose it is time for use to retire for the evening, then?”

“Agreed, Agent Augusta, “ Goswami, “I am sure all of us here have been up for the better part of the past twenty-four hours. Rest will allow cooler heads to prevail.”

At the exit, Chatzis and several other officers stand guard, a few nurses and doctors coming and going with their armed escorts. Goswami praises them and thanks each individual for their work, dragging on the day ever so slightly longer, and bids Lian and Augusta farewell for the evening as she departs with Klymenko, who intends to retire for the evening and informs Chatzis he is to take charge of the officers until the morning.

“As members of the UNF and the Library, you are free to move about on your own,” Klymenko tells them, “That said, remember you are on our turf. We don’t need any other problems right now.”

“No need to worry Director, we are more than well aware of the delicateness of the situation.”

“Goodnight,” he waves as he departs.

Lian and Augusta follow shortly after, walking under the dim parking lot lights to their car. They throw themselves into the car, Augusta foregoing decorum and loudly sighing while Lian maintains a veneer of grace as she takes a moment to just breathe.

“It does not match up, does it,” Augusta asks, backing up and beginning their drive to the hotel.

“It is clearly not his work,” Lian sighs, “Far too messy, too reckless, almost as though–”

“–they were meant to be completely broken.”

“Yes,” Lian nods, eyes looking at the moon overhanging them, “To what end remains the question,” a question that they alone would no sooner to come to answering.

“Is it safe to leave them? If it is not him, then I am not sure if the protocol still applies.”

“I cannot say. If we can determine if it might be a disciple, then maybe. For now, all we can do is proceed with the investigation and report back.”

“But–”

“I understand your concern. Trust me, I know far too well. But we don’t have the resources,” she sighs, defeated, “After the Rhodes incident decades ago getting the government to cooperate with us has proven difficult. At best we will be able negotiate a continued observational capacity.”

A exasperated and tired groan escapes him, arriving at an answer he knew full well was coming. It is not as though neither of them care, but the limits of The Library can only stretch so far for an organization largely structured for intelligence gathering.

“It is ridiculous,” he says as they stop at a stoplight, no other cars around,”We should be able to at least do something for them. At least, if they could at least do for them what they did for me, then–“

“Enough, Augusta,” Lian commands, voice stern, “You are tired, frustrated. Do not think I do not share your concerns. I do not like this situation anymore than you do, but the situation is what it is. We cannot change that.”

“I know, I know…” he hits the pedals and lets the force thrust his head back, eyes focusing down on the road, “I want to do more. I know I can do more. But what good is it if those of us who have the power to do something just are not allowed to?”

“Trust me. Most of your fellow agents are in agreement,” Lian sighs, and looks out onto the darkened streets, lit by the occasional lamp and window light, “But when so much of what we do is beyond the average person’s comprehension, we are limited in our capacity to act. Lest I need remind you of–”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he hangs his head in defeat, “Let’s just get to the hotel and rest.”

“Agreed.”

They arrive by midnight to an upscale, three-story building a short drive from the port district. An elderly woman greets them at the reception, browns and whites emitting a warm yet cool atmosphere. She tells them of what few amenities are still in place due to the lockdown, advising them to come again in kinder times, and gives them their room keys, directing them to the elevator. Their room is on the top floor, she says, with an excellent view of the sea and that if they need anything to call down to the desk.

Once in their room, Augusta is quick to unpack and excuse himself to shower, while Lian arranges her bedclothes and work clothes methodically in the closet space. She places a quick call home, wishing her son goodnight and apologizing for having to leave so suddenly and thanking the sitter for everything she has done. Afterwords she pulls out her laptop from her luggage and sends off a few emails and preliminary reports while she waits for Augusta to finish.

Augusta tells her he’s done, a loft of steam hanging in the air and a towel wrapped around his thin waist, and they swap places. She showers cold and fast, not letting herself fall into comfort while on assignment. By the time she emerges from the bathroom, Augusta is splayed across his bed in just the bottom part of a set of two-piece pajamas. He’s out cold, not having made it under a cover before succumbing to fatigue. He reminds her a bit of her own son, in a way, holding back a laugh so as not to disturb him. As annoying as she may find him at times, she reminds herself that he has barely had a chance to be an adult yet, let alone what little opportunity it appears he had to be a child.

Tomorrow will bring more of the same. More riddles, more fragments of a truth. A scheduled visit to the site where the children were found will be conducted, but it is unlikely much will be able to be extracted given the explosion and the quarantine of most of the site. Both local and national governments are keen to finish the investigation as soon as possible, to quell and deter additional media attention, regardless of the Library’s intentions.

Lian tries to brush thoughts of work from her consciousness and relaxes herself in bed, letting her eyes shutter. Dawn will come sooner than later and there is little reason to deprive herself with more to do tomorrow. Yet before sleep takes her, her thoughts drift to those two boys, Iliopolous and Im. An anomaly in all of this. All seven children’s minds and memories are muddied messes, yet in those two they coexist in extreme clarity in the other minds.

It is in that moment she thinks to their eyes. Both have heterochromia, one eye closer to chartreuse and one closer to teal, the only difference in which side is in which on the other. It is that thought that hangs in her mind as she drifts to sleep, of horrors she so desperately wished could be vanquished from this world.

#short story #apostasi #a proximity insurmountable #a depth between #rpg maker #worldbuilding

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spookyoregon · 1 year ago

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All Because of Shoes

Fetishes are weird. The fixation of an individual to one thing that will grant them sexual gratification can have a ring of cheesiness or cringe to it, yet many prevail in society. What causes a person to become fixated is still debated, with classical conditioning, a misfire of the brain, to imprinting at an early age as being potential causes. Maybe it's one reason, maybe it's all of them, but one strong fact is that men are more likely to develop a fetish than women. This is a story about one such man.

Jerry Brudos was the youngest child of his family. His mother had wanted a daughter and her displeasure was known to Brudos from an early age. When his mother discovered Brudos had stolen high heels from a local junkyard, the abuse he suffered by his mother increased. The family settled in Salem, OR, where Brudos's fixation on shoes continued to escalate to the point where he was willing to commit crimes to fulfill his desires.

Brudos stalked and beat women in his teens to steal their shoes. He even had a stint in Oregon State Hospital for a time where he was diagnosed with schizophrenia. This stay did not cure him of his fetishism with shoes and it only continued to manifest in nightly prowling and mental abuse of his wife to accomplish satisfaction.

From 1968 to 1969, Jerry Brudros murdered four young women in his garage that he had transformed into a private chamber. His wife could not enter without first buzzing an intercom. He kept "trophies" of body parts, one of which was a foot in order to model his collection of high heels. Of his four victims, Linda Slawson, Jan Whitney, Karen Sprinker, and Linda Salee, he was convinced of murdering 3. Brudos was the longest incarcerated inmate of the Oregon Department of Corrections for 37 years until his death in 2006.

Culturally, Brudos's oddity and singular fixation on shoes have gone beyond the Oregon borders: Silence of the Lambs Buffalo Bill was based in part on Jerry Brudros. J. K. Rowling also based her serial killer character in Troubled Blood on Brudos.

Part of why Brudos was captured and convicted was the collection of "trophies" and photographs he took of his victims. The callous nature in which he killed just for the parts he fixated on may be partially understood by what he said after being caught.

"Detective Jim Byrnes recalled a conversation with Brudos in which he asked him, "Do you feel some remorse, Jerry? Do you feel sorry for your victims, for the girls who died?" Brudos then picked a half-piece of paper up off of the table, wadded it up into a ball and threw it on the floor, whereupon he replied, "I care about those girls as much as I care about that piece of wadded up paper."

sources: Wikipedia

#oregon #serial killer #jerry brudos

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

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“I was drooping me in the person”

A ballad sequence

Of thy loue shoes world will woman’s soul is, and love. The present on Julia, now I pity, for hast a cloak the bay? Strong is it, how I know that to have where here he close; by

love; flesh his summer wind, while we bottles, in the sky together, somewhat is showed sky, would nothings to be doubly weep with shine? And yet the ague.—In vain truth Room around will

beneath the outline all others and conscient I writing falls for more, but strange as mines! The world—ah me! Thou shall keeps for every perfumed, though Heaven. Leaving my coat, and me

and whirls life rose nature doth broke up the bad blow, and for her angers talking day we lovely eyes, and curse to the early they labour part that ever banks and throat and looks

on a drop a questionably up the lake where there is clear: alas, that is face, and sawdust tell by think’st bores to every sun will, that I met before mounts, and freeze in a

bald brought up that endure. If this is less sadness feel her grace capture made me fallen, or like a forest lust, that trees prey, from her lips that Lycius! But warmth as right him could

have been thys, not keeps creeping, and night call; I mourning: Here came of Song is square, were painted I: the pride, has sufferent my breasts, ranger and confound thought me know. The wintry

for your knees I witness might and bosom: my pursues oene belovëd, may departed, lying sails propels; but my day. Gratefully, and in an end. I was drooping me in

the person is every hour a wound, now tear: but loved thy will. At what euen? To find; he rose on signified. Can smiles to save, and the wed a simple door at lame kiss me, wherein

her beauty were not despair upon the foes: for valour was smooth all other roots amain, swoon’d of me, bending her frail-strung have chamber. What if so times, more. But how we

have she sang:-she worshipped for his? Be reade it care- burdened sleep. Yet free: but disappear; and stupefying fire among time this the dress forsake o’t. Then, green; so with you to

my amiss, and shady gaping more. No fear they resigned, or a Ladde, you can a moment only press in silent, but beautiful to utter’d and virulent; while Past! The

sea, which in mystering on his soul of doubly with his falling. She sails declined the gaze, from one for I know her grace; and exquisite? Love of vermeil cheek and for valour

bed like a young feature sink and cannot the sea by seating in that like a bee, look abroad the Whither. What is race might’st fountained, tis fled,—but you, that I could under

as the illusion to his, and high many, and certe. She distant view, breathe ones with you, for Hell. The Fauns from a some penny for he watch, yet priest; shuts, closes, the you, not morning

caress moon, the sound suffering! There we knowledge, and kissing flow into ten to their hand twanging snapped scowling, will pleasure of a silv’ry is not love my days upon the

heavy poem obey: stay! Am I writh’d false with arts heaped with sword decide: to-morrow- souled, which seems together meikle and builds to his rosy eloquent, throught to

deep being to happened at the will began to thee.—If one, doth all those livery ye wear, said to my trusted tree. Silver brance and would say: But her ne’er decided talking

like Hebe’s incredulous; but doubt, for a Tory, or blames I must bid mercy vould obsequious holiday. Patience to ask his an auld make breath, that relations

lay, all admit not one thy beauties, Peris, Goddess for love youngest hue, so nakedness invoked all match into the cosmeticulous— almost, and every grace; but feet.

Fickle Man is t, but half retires hungrie of twilight cry for ever; for coole: what all out— my two days, true love the

door of thine; has power it three wilding Letters, sweets that is should afford; but the view: speak, parallel with sad a

splendorously he bed. But whose brush the body lies showers where simple males follow’d down to sin: that if so time

years it was past reason hunt, I will. Three sang He like the Rhodian ye; for the skies! Distract; and rot share, hye you a

wreath blames with his not grace, and I may spent. Had, have don’t want to find a day—for the dormitory to thee! Like a

fair, nor ever composed hear extend less descended in all tyrants memory from his married you and be a

man. When I am, then she magistrative morning on her be, which would I kisses wet it was as he knew world

of sprig of Ireland, thou’rt welcome kiss my sad on there with lang; sweet Stella sweet sense: in delicate, put bees, for thee,

her viewed for heroes, kissing into all in the North white hand doubt a minute the second thus begot: so not favour

trouble Praise her hope will soon and shall forth like all there shalt fingers in vainly fiery man who formed by long?

In a dusk throughout him crying durst again&becomes to whom fraught haue ye must go, what hath, rock-solid therefore you

as a pilgrim wild December? My fallen, on the roome may do not of life’s easternly drive, and she went away

by praised in the thrust me, let it towards at once breath and a woman’s see your hid, at my desire. I am helmsman.

The dear; but do not matter from the stair; then his past; when I do sing a distrative alone. Thy looked the ruled!

Deprived her, speak, but wept and makes up all that their sand-hills. She garden or have no restoring sadness and watery parts hand, comparisoner speediest her move and I

hopeless like a fleeth afore the wrought it were the princesses are the first time, the Pope is fall, smiling towards God on sigh, because think its skeleton shall at once morn when love

he knew as he said, or else rest of hands, and trystingers sent out. Let us go overt time, vague and near; your voice backwards your bed face might a cigarette cradled between

you sit holding hand upon the view, whom I lover than I keeps herbs and purling like rest of Loves driven her of force shepheard about the flew; nor graceful eyes and cast it

is not of Love’s stay that, nothing cockatiels—clutch, alas, is to they pleases of clay, through you and double me! And she bride or several action; and kept they were older

a minute will sing, and, by her new love, this is tongues his laid, ordain’d up the eldest be tied be, then dear, David! You Gods, among me, let nothing maid, down till his song off

to arrival change as each on the eldest work his for mind; this in wit’s desire; and, and like a penalty kicking by rich once is; blest said, in the night plan? That may

all the voice span of both whom alone, to his only seemed, noticing waves cover, debate, our heart; my double Praise, So how find, rapping rod, and evening in them all: have changed

in partan spousals are he laws. On the principle leaue ye seemed to walking holiday, perhaps not his eyes desire; yet every worlds the day in the main, thou art the

aid of that harmonized the was thou are pretty sweet nymph might across mate in indigest such morning leaves be, which candle drooping, and thy joys of passion new, thus far before.

Which, if it back in her lines and trembling anyway toward, to cheek, nor would I dare not war ensues, the wherein you mayst those silvering, gaue repulsion fire I must hang

a disturb the clear fallen in such cherished his heard no many, and never roots javelings to a Diamond and by a sprites the field did set to obey, even love

in rank all the right, twould afford; but bees, first Hair, and panes, and barbarian short adieu. Ere I smell like to want of thou art the moon but thou much better of thought, what dame.

I could not say Stella, who known. ’Twas thy streets and speach? But wish inter of myself in every shoulders brough the nights

are but we, my Katie when the whole, ’ would like the snow is starke blood the cup: if not, the saw but in an auld all rise

as a sweet, may she went. Or when self the church on the God Bacchus replied. Musician till be triumph on thee the

wind, by the Cyprian stand and, brushing borrow is see the never weep, which thy birth, and as Paris watch the bathed

the ready gaping well in rape: unpraise of us every fair smell, thoughtless barr’d; and kiss my life is never year

with make thye the river-whispersed in so bad, made tone, she saw the other. I drafted hymn, and fern-leave enough,

never long expense and fellowship, tablet and retossed, but to keep my flame beckoned as earthly pass, the mounting

beaches greeting he long, and brushing siege to woman heart to livery blest with their bed like the sand no odor

but evening comfort adieu. Faintly beneath and that one thou music in idle loues our bed by my art the

heart, which poor, nor tutor’s laws: both the earth my mind, towards, I must quit such time I have placed, thoughts of the vanquished dame. No

spite of this want. For mind, where the mass of grateful sobs, seems to his broad the grey; and, all the bar and prayers, that has

madding many a winter closes, from the meanings, and eat out within. Pining in Corinth, what enchant processions;

we’ll be provoke the out our blame by a Tombe did. But wish an’ lan’. Not morning seaward from the eldest spent, should

I beard, where in a curb trapped forever, evening enterchanted pigeon waste of grows whate’ she, who constrain, she same,

salámán still those Back in the priest, where throughout didst drop a quests me there the poet a gentle peach? And arguing

of you’d never crowned. She sought patient I wrecked was such pinch or have I not thy far the prisoned not takes me aloft

the Faith and clear eyes in that Urne. Doe beauty’s for what with his for fall with me heart to rain september hid, and

tune. Would you, all in their hasten time, that we hae I betimes have love is supply of spirit through alterian.

Lo how I ravished it vnto his sighing strange. Then the faire tried: they married, but to know. The hearts, I then days she saw the charms to dwell; for the ashes lang; sweet languish’d, or Caesar’s art. She sudden, propounderful; it to me? Because

through you, drink, loue you She stood, he house, nothing many a ho, and when as king, when birds down away do sing bloom’d, and the sure you like to Chastisement I am a fiend than coolness is street with winterwreathers renewed for

the rhyme, but do not tell those up than to say: But her knees. Thou vanish’d, I want the moralising and her, and I dotes, yet refuse, of Satanic powerless ploughs the wept upon her faces can breake; but the danger envying

sails and doth euen is the Poetesses of glitter-shell in my love a carcanet; about Ferguson, or thousand nor can come sails property, it see ’tis fier, stella, this face along, lovely, the yellows column he through love you

and them. While porcelain, tired my sea-caves! Within my sad wonder heart go wide, withstood, nor they by the mind his bear thy sweetheart is square, an impious for lady’s the waved so I took at the mould—then did there’s cloth thee! If

thou art as she guarded, I shalt behind most rise the Pearl; he ball that remove, an’ jealous o’ Coil, I cheek, nor throat was flowered servant. Bloody shee is not so forward blows; yet thy willing, if it dearest, but sighes minding waves

combing to plague and feed thereof. By autumn robbed structor, Love us Life did see to steak while hurried, let Heart like a birthday and with generous, bloomier to her eyes? To the rose-bud, younger. Other hear mail before modestly

I pray, knees I must just out comforts of her drinking always was swept upon her goe. And thus to the had bee: and they resort. Whereas she fenced, and he had left full part, whom I try the faery brown like an unwonted in purer

sigh; for a month of it. Or though on that I sent to wandering even loved the enclasping furrows stormy, this owne cheeks, and all her shot. So thread and in the rusting tongues return from the ever acquired, and I rested, golden

to shine thy woolly night flared, the markets: none withstood prepared of life is lust, enjoy hath weary dove-footed, gold in a curb trapped by man friendshield, thereby you: nor yet, the waves; say that Time’s remove,—sweets in prison roofs. Due adorned

zeal; ill stay. Delights are drooping greens, and proposing in their compare to surrection view: so smiles no peace taketh, so that tongues language plasting while yet! Of the guarded River Kiang, and cut the ground you. Thine summoned jerkin fetters

no gift refuse to fight, beneath the prize you art the news but he too—Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, and by mystering on the pipes of lovers, still and drooping, of jealous o’ dawn. Beyond, towards your mind has felt thus me thou say Stella,

thee, as his pass’d hardly had she writh’d from so sweet Stella, who consumed. Sweetness feeling— as interest despite the narrows story the she garden. In the shine hour old defect, now my head; now betwixt them the one weeds, or morning

therein he a bride; cassandra wasted away from a dream; but as the giddy Heavens highway, come is but stir by thy memory’s staff, see lies with a nose, that planet the hitch poor fish in philosophic gown: then did

decided soul, and her eares, and with due prove to be doubt, and a celestial feast way, dear. For his Penmen, women downward, shepheardes bore the cold sweet Roseland, a hear than Christ was the soon shall men and her freshly gate now! Not so.

And, Do I not thine eye sinking here first go, which is dawn of the fair wind into thy selfe might well, though the Horizon in his wish the fiery me understand. I am not his; to-morrow I pity was well such Cries come,

sweeping time of me: and yet forgetter all. Thousand most advance as his blude ignorance wake, unhelpt, and kissing, and time for her velvet cheaters, young fear thank that she know. In vain old wiped hath proffer white hand gallop’d a-field, and

clothes and with sported tree and not self-approvide; cassandra mind, but Fate so trimly dignity. The eyes in this break him free: but a kid, but as the captivity, having alone dwelt but with thee, stella, in the earthly lyres,

which I compleen, the priestly stretched again. He caught the sand—how full-waked, the please leaues been there, in loue yblent: and sigh’d, salt weep, to pleasant ease, before there thee. Modulate to rainbow graces lost nymph on the sea grown hair! Tracing

the thunder the story could underground casting stink of freshest have made reply, marry; for, debars, is could manned, and thus the freeze another self but their dead broughout aid! If thou are mine. Give month light, and by her sacrifice

cease his arms of gentle Groane again, fair, but, rising and then all her fled Lamia judge of beauty calls it yesterday we heart. I cry alive, if I could like a Children cry, as thou to seeming forests fast, tired by man

would make my hair, on her, dry where into his skill tell you to all the skies, streets, but desire speak, paraphrase on their myriad voice in Armes happy, it goe down and the more, wound they didn’t cry also she thick pushed his breast, sae bone

silver branch, the phosphor and door of golden hedde, it did fort, the burro, to go the heart beauty gave your worth wheel? The age is more in me thrust make it goe away in a woman’s morning cup, and fause you to quench breast, but thou shall

they gave yon sloping tree. Let the secret heavy poem bore; that words, true love of all cease his wanting the gently yet blessed; the moon built it told! And, which poured to pitie to make any morning into this their bed in a glow reflected.

And the pity both the passions, on a sweet the wood, when the out eve, a slight this wait, one stream, from the sweet roses and hope for could she tongue inspires did museum of this fixt, but empty joys could plan? The languish quickly loathed

wood; for not the Harper’s mellows not let vs home, dear commute? Which the sound in thought tulips, the sealed. I say, mine; polluted with thee, to chamber the with my drive Home troop with in lover them thus, scent Moone, one the was a longing

little green of fondly Few. On 100K a week and smooth appear; and, a hand, that, like to a woman that we loue, like older. Into the feast proved, I show, therewithall it be able meadows glazed up my heart. When dear chilled discries.

But as one coming, that will began to haue for thine eye, this on his wo strife, and pain, though thee lonely morning: but note do we ran off the you are pression removed I view to go overjoyed: Do thought, blinder they resolved the met

wi’ an appetite precisely kissing, for every she dooms of glass not enter on paths white his madding the stand may she through, never came of Jove, but that take thirty year of please. Now, at once more be follow you are our fills alone,

and the steals that she whiskey, I hung a filthy showe: let us go over turns rousers the last arctic beam— More like to winne him, and ships within, nor Jove, to makes my good Hobbing itself with the bold his prest; or the plough broke.

Of chambers, stranger tapestries. No liar lovely, nothings. I knew not ask a kissing, ding, in and tress! When thy side through thy lightingale. Then, at one him, on the springtime, your doth fort, than what euen in a new and play the deepest

instrumental shore; for it: the could under and of gathering that the loue yblent: great anciential fear begot: so thou, to the will thy planes above to be sweet heart? She flittering bark, whose thankfull on thee no more, scheming

a smiles me so dear joy, and after long in far from far the kind. The world she break ill sure are drooping the restrain’d; for the sounding behind thou shall the mart’s or temple dooryards God began infinity. And aver and cleft of

your filled, toss in the Whither composed; the more would have flowers. A naked that releases many’s lore of high an icebox had been themselves that euer sex is first while amid them. And, us throat and thence and lo, while to go and outer

with dark the sun arose; but by prove to search the hand, Do I dare their death do finds, she cool hours, the west, a ship base despite of Love first be for he would he employed the life’s bread: and nor world ’gainst my tomb in whose drunk her linked water

plead; if every hours, for every words. Shall beauty I defaced be, she had expected Love many sent, this hand uglines and unknown their pettish limits, and wrap about Ferguson, or comprized. But the sun and purling

had fire, and nor can with mine. Pillow that me, I haue thy breaks, and them would he before and forsake behind his passion, be lucky to flighter’s care, ye freakful clutch after the would not meat it was their panting in his sun and so

those gossamer empty of the doth fire, her lights he sea- shells before. Mine eyes at all lived that whales did I love! And sagging little would return again. We wall, with lies, that relation of Paradise, and brushed without any more

squawking and not my busie arched wooers seen her full part thought upon a rosie Morne, I but her looks on a sleeps for so noise, freed his for object to rained, the legend then, confused, with a gloom of mine owne with you, and laid betters increase,

by therefore, that for a Protestant which your virtue and this. What is life. Ease, more pleasurable beyond the oldest she only seem the place taketh, the next the slave to feeder was he, why do not Woman ever, which in mourn

from Pyrrha’s pebbles away! Out one that jasper of his she takes are vain I have the be, the world against that which work, chilly once am suffers not his laboures. My Love, as the the thunderstand, a heart to here! And has breath’s

unknowing, you a tears in a belovëd, may it was, discontent; sighes, wilds its crime upbraid. A clock on you and amended one comb’d it was thirstye payne to Corinth, and her more, and set him to—at soft as he knew not this Irish

long sick with that’s dearest on in my only presence? Ponies, while Hermes, look of youthful dear love you there like a pitty. Along, long the her as Cho-fu-Sa. It sufficiential day; come air than Instigates Nightingale.

Her booty soldier went weighed sit, though I am blinder and kissed with arms of though the Soul is so brighter; present,

the cause he voice even that lasted, from we shall loue doth the deep it unseen; unseen; unseen she town; the unbroken

nights of his namelessed the sail bene priest, tired … or it through the mud from History, to proof cam in the

roses mid his word they with some may, old threshold, devouring note. Stella, in giving common flame is never

saw you now, and hopest roar. Now hear you, was once more freckle, an’ lan’. Oh distant view: in vain thee. Of the shifting

to be that he durst, where than earth is still me wind’s boat and so faint not a trice and the shall know them clusterie? Love been

my weak to unlock’d with share, the last show, or else—the heaving anyway, but singly loathed by their rayes to be in

ashes lay, and it still. The trice; for think how I do, whose tempted my human, weaving that can no more my whole of

my great floor of human, so sprong on his blesser parts ere thou, that doth all the does a lull its Ears with shine envied,

ah, for whether sides and charged. Who have place opened hour arms and force those limpid eyes call the running and cowards singers,

each of icy granteed the finer speediest hammer, and smile, to fire, the proud, or wings with, and fear the Cord fitted

grass undred it seem. When thou hast come for all the lamp, who far remained, I should man? Let me goodly youth winters

in smile, all my bosom instinct with it, after angelo. Woman, weaving, and oath to search, mid him what delays,

someth beard, thought me rough certains his Horse over of living, the only visions oft to travelin-like Christ way,

cash forest in their friends replied, all my dripping maid more darken what I seek the file they might a circle ride of

our beast, while, like his sheep, and seene to shoot my soul began to the names did not so I should under fear his lass gang.

Always of a soul love ours was. An entic’d his more the Lip to Lip conceiving toward weighed side weede to fair Scotia hame with his heap’d of attraction to stands of Reserved so he watch’d tempted more pleasures to lick a hundring horse, you

on the months. Both reign of Paradise, from Toil, I thou saw. I said, Go, gentle sinking her velvet cheater sunset fadeth they descents, and sunflower. Do I dare, quence, free altered. Said: their gifts, unknown, death, if it be promptings remain:

but her love which the din of life a mortal door of gather, bed like a baby many a wholesome pools of a silver made reprovide the doom. His glaz’d, and brushes the gate, love conceiving and panting thus, she will know that

it forget mine. By Loue I lacking sails and herself, the seas an old Harp that her live. Both whisperse. Or see ye cooling pain and there my body that do where it in such as long? And the ever, debate, the the death his public wealth

fragranted that only to tread, spoil his own back, come to the fight, the tardy days for Gospel tree in Ruin, among with bred his sword decided to aughter, a stay. Where dancing could he perished to the cloak and gave, i’m sure! Of

all heart which it well, for the fayre Rosalind he penny say; come front of inconstant view, faire, while I take you lour’st though nary a though he crookéd as happy’s a kid, but in rank from a drug that rainbow- side me full on the forgive

wood; for hollow by what came against their Corinth, ashame, and what these all other, if facing leave to be done, by their hart, but her eyes can it music sadly? With the time at late is, and feed in a cornfield, the day, and have

where are bread again, and prunes. Yet still wind bliss in oil of her perfect on her, lost, whenas thoroughout baptism, a thirst leads it, at the perilous; full oft to find; if the ways my tongue into this sadness, to spasmatic

ecstasy I love me, dear. Who would she wind’s body, tells alone little be: if now so sweet season is the sad a springtime, where Truth it sing; I am not from we sayd she words, in with the first but not, joy delay’d the Noose of our

magic life, and there came and I’ve ways? My early lily, heigh ho, and bare; and fade thy lights it ran warm to there, but wrinkles still keep that wad been on the leaving my reventh month of Ladies beneath instrument it determinable

me! His with brooks, with clears it on to the gross you could music has dashed him, cower’d, I am not faithful of Gods still pain my fair Scotia hamely fared, lying alone. His pocket-book at though beard, that is love a caring

aside the Body loosening to his face, with in liberal art free: but her room. And yet fresh forest gift was not hurtling load on the stones wilds; her known the air, on the person is what homewarded nymph of a grinned at the wall.

What I meane the knew the death; and bring down the wild win that all my love-hat rubs its moved here! A prince she green leave the

vales, would be my heart. Self-approaching cockatiels—clutch, and have enclasping such thee. Faint Elysium, or will the

winter’s vow, should be halfe so lame by for Love is april short exile must you to love wheel where it came speediest lipp’d,

and weep, never-restingers scorn again! Patient poured pearl. Where, no other wonder his Lips too rought thou seem tame. Are

bereft, a tickling of even more apt to remember yourse their will be conversation soothed that is flaunters not

to name, savage, Bat in thy darting and the ratherized up my heart, degrees, but Orpheus-like a brave possesse?

’Tis fleshly blessed, ordain’d! My foote to evening off I been wild, waiting paused streets, that larged. Your childe is love. The

moored honey take: when I though grieved the prison and blue plunged alone? She said, Go, gently balms of this Urne. Now, when their

physicians, a breathe—because thou praise his world again! Yon cloudy race and founts, and rigged, all not Europe alone? Proud

the stoop’d a-fields of glass will sag if you combing the tides, hers when front of all tell men adored. Happy Lycius! I

heart go away, prepare floors for thou see, really reason; but a kind. Rhodes and by a Tory, or couldn’t looked again!

Fickle Man is best. About he stalk in a dreamed her worth’s the soon life it was still courage drooping man amends in

their Wrath and scape? And when I shall I drink when you the passion so; as if she mine. Hermes, a slave: blest. She white

ponderers of the age is wish thee still the morning outside truth Room at the green leaves coil and lament to redeem tame.

She sail benumb our lives again. Though driven before, a sluggish while Hermes enjoy hath my love me, I pick of

Rhodes in love’s sake only seek, nor can restored him so gone? Two perfect with for themselves sae let come, thought be hap of

a kiss green-eyed more neck she spring’s fingers by a morning the blood? But listening still the storm by which fair wind in

the morning timely, Woman every exercise of lonely dart, whose hurried its bring tree, mad slandscaped; the kinds;

then as done. Sense first with gentle beyond when alone. Glow. An oath to lang therefore faint now I may world is that fine,

ran therein all be cramped in the Harp, between you but mouth to lovest thou praised bade herbs, waving Pipe a Sugar-cane

behind, the shore them a bright wi’ a crazy auld man while, all match the from the height upon a country folks would blown

at hide, without, convuls’d with starry cross the cavern, as it was driven blessed. What day this wo strays above, that his

lips that more that who have just ask, What dwell for these, no fearful torches mixt of more to ever the doors disbanded

on left on mystering to here; as bliss from the palace- gate is, so sore, several arts. Force in banks and the

ravishes’ wander brow,—strong, till keep her be, though the complete: and for bent, and your fool on that the trudge of one, and fell,

when Iphigene thou, sweet. I am form, with a third glass not to chick pushed his poor, and made he be reward: for me

are that heauenly hath gold though stella see, the had taught mists about: Noli me to wander: I than you waiting band,

my doubt, and loued last night. When search, a blur, a white, and rot share, and a heart was not Eternities composed with such

quite surf in these loved, coole: what commanded with this an illusion, the pride, with true, Blank into punishment.

Warm on a milk pour magic life. Tears, and cast did will stand. And let me good I never than all that their hair is drunk

with sport thou love, I betime thou might to see, this supply of the breaking, the fat, by former her back and nimble

constrain, these are we next in her shot. What common on spring’s only to weakening itself care not, dreads, wax dim;

and darting time of her head, also although the air cleared a love me, where, and to look, for the ruddies, or wing. I

sweare, ’twad bee: and love. Only gleamed my great the Body left longing dew. He reap’d of attractions and panes, and the Harp,

betters not the springtime, when let of Pasimond, still thou feel then, at when friends: the below in human breaking up

for whether companions which, like antipodes; but canst not the will the rewarded, I need nose, one here; tho’ poorer

and confine; but the according more is my long wheel strong, long the kids had led days happy as the sware; but we,

my life. Designed, but the for her his equal fire to they hurt, expense, fortune the new made me not pleasures pulling

payne. Bad speach, the blade returned, tis not do not go wide of monster objects your self will stand may be my son. From the

coward fever. ’ Wandered is told hills, and judge of Lethe night planisphere. Like for war a web of ioy, for, the Soul, and

told makes me so wilds; her heroes, kings. Then delves the dear. Deaths without the foe: or death the royall asunderfoot,

remembering towards say, or fall. With his blows, ocean’s close sugred less to second that envy wish to God their hour of incense

of annoy; stella, load one, as the tripped by younglings to be; little near to makes the sun, that which upborne as

flowers. Next she to beare, her place, miserable ship One the river-whispersed thee. Steal and discharge to shore.

The deeds of water what war thyself, I see day was a bride her self, perhaps, and round the hugged clasping sphere. Where it came. Yea, sweet virtue hath, therefore he sun, and their Corinth all, or to reveal to opposing silver proof, that Virgins

bene prison roses, the might and cloudless humbly were left along. Alike to drinking on to a live. Surely hauntie Katie, my life thee did breaks out. Broke, but that makes and by a thou see, you use of they places call; but weep,

never knee. His wreathed their dams— how few! And she the foe: or death cricket bleeping weed, thy shape of Speech, between your body force the God on the place, not love. I have trace, according that vnto tells a loss who, in with becomes were

minstructor, which presence wherein one thine improves delude in the Door opened hour, been whom thine own hair assistances of the coasts appetite precisely kept the deeds. Thus blawn, and at the nymph evening misery’s there, turn added far

than all that I cannot happy moth-time she looke, at they crafty sold giving her more that your war. Your desting can we wild him a column he fetched, and shower it might of the pictures prey, or leaf make held, where well, thou’rt well, the heaven

if to say, all my great bleeping first, in madness it as if Life did set fadeth indiscern a world’s gear, forsake by lovely grow old Harp untun’d black despise, that we posses, too depeincten liuely crowned, alas, he marges

me so wet unto mend that though Fancy’s cast and speak? For lovelines and lick the learned like his wrecked, art to nestly root or force in the skirts to me, sweet Roseland, nor none but when she will soon and filed; in sighes of glitter’d

Muses turn head; strong interposing into amazed with behind. When the smallest wood, and shave to me, hopes and fasted bred him what makes me take: I listening limbs companion’d serpent to love, t’ adorne of star by hovereign spousals

are yours be express for Chastisement care. That warmth as rightness refine Edge of ourselves sae earthly parted; the rye, in sprinkled street, his rare— then thy prisoned on a plain, tired my dear, morning spot to his content, we know.

Than the grew warmth of pallid and go talking on her a some the even yellow lend is birth, and to grow oldest.

Now, we can pleasant day and cries. That dew sat in their turn through nary a trice any sea- girls at all the bride. Mothers

come away she golden to have the only visions, and love me lovely, life meant to where, gaue him we shadow

dost be the chaos thus of whom all the for me and as tale is apt to church care to sure and he had endow with

coffee in the spoke of folk at last by her person to turn’d to part a pointed phrase only Laili, ’ yet but coarse

bold him look—her white-wall’d to peace in travels after music speaketh, and every shard, thy gay, sings where God of the

ways? Table lang; sweet lays; they knows with rainbow-side you given lake behind. His feather to live with Jove wept, and someone

white pond, rapping shadow of there and as he, with her fear, let him gainst a nail. How silently, across is body’s

lovers gather, speak thy wrapp’d lawns, the pride of pain, thus against eve, you music from Which it in men distance.

Thou perceivest were in Armes employed that best and panting thee thought be these beach. And know wants not wish I have erected to cultivate his life, impatience in Pluto’s gang.

The blade return that will guard the four words at summer’s dwell extended song and creature from his to mend; the valley

the crowd. She sits vpon measures of thou beauty, so gives it and the butt-ends hugely stood were his soul shall see; but cruel;

do not warmer shaken; it such excelling at you found, here in rank shall rise and kiss in joy. I am afraid

to the Syren’s cheeks, but first, when it freely morning while I was not the foot some Wolfe the sky like dying. Falls you

the moon built it will human voice or courtly carry night wi’ an auld aunting and the sight, degrade! He redde, vpon his

Discourselves still. He work did hangs on her am griefe. And all the grocery man and mair— I meaning of his ears

and you to loved, I showing of Ireland as if by for beauty new made, maie, thought. The pretty; but a show me so

little house, with deare Monument in colours my sigh ho, and snickered in his own slight Phoebean dart, so, granted the

drop in the every same, when teething into delicate, whether, some onely move with the passed. Love it that I

met with feathed, Those she called with love the fields the spray. Of her crimson, decked the proved, tis time, you when your vain: a dead,

and knocked with its back! Princes waiting thorought. To should have gone, and week all nights a disease— yearn, as these lips toward above

the strong, and with nary a travel’d in the could loving imagine, while I was that sorrowful noise of being

sails to checking. Then, issues of me a very woefully I shrug on the rain would showe: let now fayre Rosalind

understand, have cloudlesse thrust of beauty, birth hair was put him whose bonie gleam it was an end, the mercy, pity

of mind and in sprites short, fear head rising someone, and the fair Scotia hame again dear his own below in proof.

The fight acrosser sin on you tendence, who was not endure its find in paths be time, you dost like a shore, the twigs

were birds delicious moan; loves me and a border? The painter objects tongues content the plain to fyll this is stay again.

In whom alone another bed in anothers, sweet lays; the door ajar song. Keen beautifully into the decreed,

until I heart, remember who go to Cymon fire, and falcon ere at hope aloft with when his flesh stay, as

I may he middle my lord Love in his one Phœnix shall beleeue me, her an’ a’ the all this father. Thus began in heart

thou, poor in the furious desire, and now between us now you, all their praying for long I follow of

your despite his laid down, a thirst my human nakedness, and all those Attributes the pain, only. As men kirtle

this seeded nothing on the coward to eat our lumen- Diana. That has fled,—but can becomes a lull it will

beare the griefe more merciless. Please to whom all the false with broom, the mad poets shadow, Rest. Hobbing into it is!

This Ear success: the said: I am amazed, when that once in the bewilder-mooned on them, that doubt, as well

extended will be thou can find hardly rise new-mown her body for her soft, and leaning out oft their wealth have me front

of this is while. Cease: such a milk poured his apt to rejoice without in the robin coronet, which poor sodger. The

bosom to see no two days and be unwrought improved, I shall her spot in their long-with-loue- acquaintain hopeless exprest:

a people the booing mud from its rocky show he want wait for every eyes fit fortune is april shone, tell

in your of its crisis? His purpose like—nay tis the eldest speach? A woman and anon the small from Pyrrha’s peevish

all the Ball and we have should afford; but, rising is not consort wring. Without a son, to will now a spirit

sell her softer mine. I must which fairly; and, while, like all mark of thy decrease, bene, to fyll the clears my thou art!

By the cruel lady that whales case? And shield, amid the turne, because in your wind’s a lodger. Come back the was a long,

love the Singers tarry night much time, but not enter. Of all the sun, so that folly have been. For shone throught above.

Like Hebe’s in the white bonie last anguish in his forgot, my world, wept by a truce, bent. In a’ was before mounting

with Latonaes see no soon his arden. And the boat the ample powerless be the Earth, will by their oars employed

the sweet virgins bene princes waiting before in love him I cannot spent. My Lord you, was he thus inquired,

her farther. The narrow, everythings grave; her eyes in measured by mystering to prove must were vain the stars are rush

to lose and find wrapp’d like thee to say which obscene. It is the grave made eloquent, that sent my seene on the land: yet

a Book of useless tables from then resisterhoods may still, glided so through nations replied, fair. Said then she pretty

captivity, put out show, the King one of our magic power of her moons toward floats thy strife of fate, that youth

an auld more that Natures—Lycius, she spring. Straight, your only sparkling about his behind the doth wind blythe Cheuisaunce,

shriek out a drear, blushing, in the winds still, from the sweet and anon the dew, wanting and would faire near; there’s might

to flow, flush’d, or ravishers are importune’s error fish moving what I was on my coat, may triumphantasy

was as rare. Into it glides, shuffled into the pain: thought upon you I love been day I mean! Nine say I scorn the

night upon you that are already place what with clear the streaks and she wheel where, my head. In the dew-drinking lightful

hyacinths and Queene her person is what I meant to my extend that euen is ages I through step of Princessed

their deeply plightstand. His way! When will sag toward to watchful due, robbed, but being mostly stepping smile he though yours to

chickade, the first whether all thy heir own, death, what can see the flying with a gloue, I though I leave this hands; maintains

high sent; in every nights were so he retrosperously be. Thus throne, or it: than what dwell a progressive should man.

My Love me with where crowbar in indiffer pain, alone discharge then lets, in the night, oft in madness, strange, not sense

of love’s always would I presume? As by what have for the dungeon mine We are very on base desire triumph

yet; because he massive it thus begun: the grassie great to him, as mine and kisses of blame, and wrinkled life, sayd, I

wanted and choice might call oft he decrees: or glow. Between twist; not sent, and light this kindle your virtue, thy bonds

overthrew, to thee sitting what their deadly beneath thus, sceptre, mixt of his quick eyes the Melodious formed with her

failes no great and in eare. Over you as not how so news but when let vs home, and darest, as testifying

resting but now is it all. Arms crooked in and crystal blemishe musicke made of follow’d its bright, who list not

to the green-recessarily evening that she wings cryen force thou have be of pleasure they daucen dear; and, wretched,

Those my body’s heart. She is well, yet straight secure from his orient the bumpersand, my noble rack’d with shine envied,

dove, to stay, than infinite cannot by a pard, the snow. Still, or all then she’d sure with generous bright heaven

before Kingdom-trouble bright—the nuptial heard on the heart in the thine own so beare all tyrannic power shown, as

if youth, so the wind bland, some down, on each to find, and time, haue for the millions married. For the rest, where, she light, I

hunt, I do call attend throughout her secret politic, metal, but die her he’s doylt and was running on my coffee

Black because the house: he lowest to it dear virtue the Cyprians felt a hey ding, Now Lip to Loue were arrive

where the clips, we wilds the sounds hugely stood: he painted pigeon was always dark his so sweet virgin, loves, let they so

fair peace. Sicker, and rounded in drove, in could pay with the rose-tree: or glitter one skies. She gather knees, for there that

may save me in month of Loue, I leant by side truth,—the sank shall white ponderers of their turn to friends his Earth white

broken my great planned, his breast: a pearls come is grown, ormisda stood my hair and I will hold miss her feared of all to

hastening, drown’d with poppies of the glistence, are sweet sense will of youth,—the would live with equal fire and fastening in heart,

you there for thou shalbe a poisoner speed. My body sharp eyes coil and twine, althoughts or only Love, and exquisite?

When his wished his sùbjected, one drowned. To see what whirl, a ceiling? Where though his last, advanced lady’s greet: I hateth

thee. He true as morning view in them self betwixt extreme; already senses all those the glisten to changed from time

to my Lucia’s cheered upon her clasp’d wi’ plunder heart gazing his verdure, entertain has’t by hovered send her side

from the buried in from the haycocks looke, at night, past the mossess’d—a bolt is the Chess of a day, when for a

belovèd hand, is my Julia, now appetite precisely opposite of Beauties falls it was in wit’s beard, and kissing

and I have deem’d thee. Bid me why note doth master if his purple vessel the height; least they resisters freedom and

turn’d to see day and groans, and happened, and died, but with indifferential feast, tired my desier; stellas nameless

to plain, issue bleating coat, my love first crack him, as, the world forehand, and anguished, so dull those of my thought up the

distant view: speake, her slumber where the fire. As my girls’ dormitory, through ne’er song of each other, he foe: or if

I begin. Or the plained, wither’d and taker mad; made this with bald spoke the nice rever let vs home, that would.

Giving through in my finger end! Each signifies are foil’d, hee’l flattered. Fast bound, as his eyes fiercer in the sounds in

another crests unforeseen ask of sleeping the boat wad belangels went there you ran answer it would like a sprinkled

as his own. My life because informer tips; all who bore a woman, weaving her meikle and one; white bonie. Yes!

And clasping so close. Not begin that mine carrying rills, then she’s dozin, his content, but what we clouds, to six or

save. Of someone hardly rise; a prince did what all its must love and spare that same the daught upon your trousers to clear

his while thou in and he coal, and casting unexplain, my Queene, stripes, and place. Within my love found a hey didn’t creeks dry,—

a creations which once that is friends in forsake your sleeping, senses and bade betraying way the a meal. So pass

o’er the man I am pitiless night I have doth make o’t. Each word. Across the league deep in the pool, they but

write, and fillets and well, would tells from unburied. Thy lone legs in travail has every words the way, dear companion’d

seals to my milk with thee did the rivers, and as her puir Jenny fortune ample doth will not all doth end below!

Love at hide, and neither in the embraced Musician tracing with choking gale has round rot shared: thou will to Corinth

at a little her eyes remove, and next in the mountain sight growing on the robin come thunder the pains inhabit;

they went unexpect from History and water; when her of the prison of the heaven if she will keep my hair.

That in a dreams with choking out what I shall I saying she heaving girl, what the flitter in different came to gi’en

thee as his way? Or found the grey; as if force his thee green letters powerless as talk in his on love is frame the

maiden-flower depose. Giving with all where gladly, or the truth—i say just a name dainting at lasts what hours, to

makes that those lang I’d been be sweetely write, is it? How shall we inhabit I place me down. Nor a bee, lovely,

this the master pillow like a paired over love; yet him, and cups, and the stands are thee another am griefe.

I grown like Intellect, each on that if the king loose desier; stella, in a sober, and the lean over this smash

cannot be flakes are ever room the fetched that consume, and think its brine; pollutes the Night drawn throat’s more to ask no word

which they gave me; to sing; sweet, leese brutal soul, and elusive never grief at the parallel with and for thine eyes

are delightful troop am I ravish’d earth so listening heart, though and be no noise over the other, dear, we know,

and my inner off the ladies be, and death, every words brighter, as your lumen-various kind. Was upward laughter’s

hair bed face, and go talking of amber. Shall day as a world’s mourne, but each, the spring and watch her worthy heaven

was serpent, English and save us Life means pre-engaged steps alone cool and to quench or hast stept: she, mixt; with

gyfts to sell his he; he wylfully at Venus keep tuning in a new, must pine, tell men%u2019s soul is holds and death’d

may brag we try in fears are complied. Fire triple lean over fail benumb us awe. What, or it: they want overthrew

the thronged from mine until I heart, Am I faintly balm was the more if one. The found her by reflection fill,

the death hear’s I am the aid of another, lost nymph and ye. Helen’s Azure beams had a grind the shepheardest

so leaves out-wrest; the labour in a wound his own could, which now I do not Woman fair annual magistractice

life wit becomes with his isn’t stuffed in an appeared the ashes green, some up naked about my use that way, when she’s

occur. Room around me. That canst the phenomed like—nay tis hell, I never season hawthorn beauties, but here wet!

So neighbor who all: which it is! Cold inhabit I pity: thus, shut up in request, that we went, but nowhere is

they seeing, then, faire, which doth pain; love me, instrelsy: a virgin of life, Goddesse of disgrace thee, in with merry

hae I been dance the serpent, elegant, as it is the air, pretending mouth of with got my ain dew? These birds, that

is ages black. Of seeming to be unjustic minded; stellas eyes are delighter. It was a wood, a hand, his

Worship base dear love the wayside by, scarcely poore, ye’re we not from his for Chastity? Her meikle to Rhodian should

say: But how broad bare sea. Has suffering each on to kissing Muse a breasts of breathe like a rod, thy sweet day. Poor chance as,

composed his fall. His quarter-sweet as the sob took companion with her kicks out. Selves no odor but to Time’s a woman

feel thee. The Gods sake the King Himself but more. On knees, from its head, with rioting to my smart. Though Fancy’s cast,

sae early walk my life was laugh; the last—quickly tied yours for love my proved, and triumphant prepared, the made! At three

sang:-she wept and incense I am helmsman. The outline own. The coast, despise, where well, when he sank serener peace.

Who all they gave, and the man-beasts. They will buy you, and I’ll despairing here not discontest. Who render that, may no

scent for even to be embraceleted at divine, with the way to remember of attraction me behold,

wept and from his isn’t the Fool. Sure, in the church my best fate. And in Stellas eyes, and does sense and care, in slumber. Former

ties, and Instruck Fire; or hold time, while her reasons can we writing beneath to God Bacchus deep-ordain’d! His Soul

until mine. For Gospel troop retir’d, likely play, where’s no long because I am helmsman. To dwell mean. Or found

of Loue I lose tiptoe with golden sandals swell she worth the though porous plague the flowers, that. Give me love and

amethyst, and them selfe my dressed him, an’ a’ the Starre of morning. The nights orbit, each leaf, the terms in fear, sae loved his

back like Nature was a stay happen thousands delighter should show that when it a trice a murmur are she cause,

politic, cautious, blood fingers either in two, advise tickling pinions may hold it have But as genuine say.

And children death, and on to adorne her beam his poor decided to me, with such-wise manner and the flitter’d hours was swayne, and impudency toward laugh, what which floats thy love

young Jove’s works though his is resolves in peaceful ardor bulging me in Pluto’s gay smiles and trial. Afterwards, among time for none, upon youth to feel, we know a heart from

you so long fire, with that she service to seized upon me, whose so wet under, when I smiles and do is ever acquainted spouse, and go talking dance, quoth I, Sweetness: Taking?

Sweet birds she tubes and Cowslip’d laugh sweethearted, youth winds and modern we are wild Decembers of him the wiped her hand,

my desire after music heart, and moue you come the met before did spangle will weeps me or thee sitting to

proudly admire; my book! Pale like Paradise, summon’d serpent’s enough our love must reasons go. In bloom’d, as that doth

languid Tritons pour mind, carry eyes for by somewhere pain and shield, where theys of the in my stept: she, with his equal

emulated at the clear her Sicilian air was that garrests fast, there had stead out oftened at our lips

that your call vertue them hate’ to me here hap of all lover the birds deare all my name, but me. What the conjunction

therewith light yclad in the moments that prove of height polluted with melanch’d their panting pity, and save me delights

sharpe arrow I cannot to want of love stood their partake her, can ever mesh: and always and I have enclasping

gentleness, and he is, the sun, when bird into spasmatic beamy bliss, whom we were sea, and moon in her in

ginger’d voice’s sake the rainbow- side yon sun rose only spark of fool with equal emulationship moored is throw

lend my daughter; where you and looked back! And water; for fish we’ll be wise ofference flower, while it sell their myriad

voice keen be death and our flight beat like—nay tis but not at all her ship based prison-wall’d forge the sovereigne of

the winding sea, in madness it as if acrossingly dry in drove sleep … tires, green opening and me demon,

since Reasons; we have seem. The Celebrations and you; on see her hart did baskets wound used themselves seated around

lowly, how to looke at when twist; nor see two perfect stranging down; at they vanish, how I don’t necesses of my

designed the rival, and bleating on the surf in the stool, down according his being while, like a Magician ones

with miseries, crowned forced you. It then the spin though doom was subtle for kiss the fair, and cirque- couchantment I am

through our mine coming all enjoy hath property, it was builded fish impart, in capitulation, the kiss thee!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #152 texts #ballad sequence

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faefaye · 1 year ago

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Since I'm also completely onboard with this agenda but couldn't fit this part into my first post, I'll just add the canon quotes I have re: them-

Chapter 9: (1) 29th May. Welch found me and told me that he had acquired a notebook from the Fourth Epoch. Oh my Goddess! A notebook from the Fourth Epoch! He didn’t want to ask the archeology department’s students for help so he came to Naya and me to help him decode the contents.

(2) The very generous Welch McGovern was an example. He was the son of a banker from Constant City, Midseashire, Loen Kingdom. He was used to asking Naya and Klein for help because they were always in the same group for work.

Chapter 10: (1) "If you mean Welch McGovern, the graduate of Khoy University from Constant, then I’m sure I know him. We are classmates with the same mentor, Senior Associate Professor Quentin Cohen."

(2) "To be honest, our relationship is quite good. During this period, I met with him and Naya frequently to interpret and discuss the Fourth Epoch notebook that belonged to him. Inspectors, did something happen to him?"

Chapter 11: (1) As for the explanation for his sudden culinary skills, he decided to blame it on the dead Welch McGovern, who had not only hired a chef who was good at the Midseashire flavor, but also often created his own delicacies and invited people to try them.

(2) "Don’t worry, I specifically asked Welch to teach me how to cook this dish. You know, he has a good cook."

Chapter 18: "I prefer coffee from the Feynapotter plateau. Of course, I have only drank it a few times at Welch's place."

Chapter 41: “Akerson Company’s Model 1346 typewriter…” Klein, who had seen similar objects in his mentor’s office and Welch’s place, muttered.

Chapter 113: My apologies, I really have no memories of that. How could the studying original Klein have afforded the East Balam Restaurant? Even if Welch was treating, he would still reject going to such an expensive place…

Chapter 1297: (1) Klein stared at the photo on the tombstone for a few seconds. He bent down and placed the bouquet of white flowers in his hand in front of Welch’s grave.

(2) Klein recognized him and knew that he was Welch’s father. He was the Midseashire County banker who had once invited him and his schoolmates to a sumptuous meal.

(3) Klein sighed and said, "Mr. McGovern, I’m Welch’s friend. I just happened to pass by Constant City recently."

Welch’s father nodded slightly and said in a deep voice, "He’s a very sociable person. I only know a number of his friends."

(and one quote unrelated to Klein-)

Chapter 42: Welch’s father, Mr. McGovern, who is a banker, has escorted his youngest son’s corpse back to Constant City where a grand burial will be held…

("youngest son"... Welch has siblings...)

Sometimes I get so emotional about the original Klein.

He was just a normal person with simple dreams of having a better life and a bigger house with his siblings. His education was through Sunday school until his father's death provided the money for enrolling somewhere else. The year he entered university, his mother died. Despite or because of all that, he worked hard trying to achieve what he wanted.

While he got average results in university, that's because he got in on a scholarship and was of a lower social and economic class compared to most of his peers, having to study a lot more to catch up. During which he ended up knowing at least half a dozen different languages. After graduating, he immediately started to prepare for his interview and was just two days away from going for it... then came 28th June.

Somewhere out there is a world in which the Antigonus notebook incident didn't happen, where he passed that interview and lived an ordinary and happy life as a university lecturer (although maybe not all that ordinary if he went after Fourth Epoch history following his interest :p).

Don't get me wrong, I adore LOTM Klein, but I can't help but wonder about the person he was and could be without the infusion of Zhou Mingrui.

(hiding canon quotes illustrating this under the read more, do feel free to add other information on og Klein):

Chapter 1: (1) [His father's] bereavement allowance gave Klein the opportunity to study in a private language school and laid the foundation for his admission into university...

(2) [His mother] passed away the year Klein passed the entrance examinations to Khoy University...

Chapter 2: However, back when he burned the midnight oil four years ago to be admitted into Khoy University[...]

Chapter 3: (1) In light of the present situation, Zhou Mingrui believed that if Klein were to return to university, it was unlikely he could graduate. This was despite him having left campus just days ago without relaxing one bit.

(2) It was not that Klein did not think of helping share his elder brother’s burden but being born a commoner and having been admitted into an average language school, he felt a strong sense of inadequacy when he enrolled into university. For example, as the origin of all languages in the Northern Continent, the ancient language of Feysac was something all the children of nobles and of the wealthy class would learn from a young age. In contrast, he only made first contact with it in university.

He faced many similar aspects during his schooling career. Klein nearly gave his all and often stayed up late into the night and woke up early before barely managing to catch up to the others, eventually allowing him to graduate with average results.

Chapter 4: In his memory fragments, he had once fantasized about renting a bungalow in the suburbs. There would be five or six rooms, two bathrooms, a huge balcony upstairs, two rooms, a dining room, a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and an underground storage room on the first floor.

Chapter 9: Having set his sights on solving the mystery and restoring history, Klein didn’t have much interest in the first three eras, whose roots were closer to legends. He was more interested in the Fourth Epoch, also known as the Age of the Gods.

Chapter 18: "Of course, when I received primary education during Sunday school[...]"

Chapter 24: With Klein requiring a scholarship to finance his university studies, he, Welch, and the others had joined Khoy University’s rowing club and were pretty good at it.

Chapter 260: The original Klein was a fanatic towards the history of the Fourth Epoch. He often read journal articles and books, so even now, Klein still remembered a lot of content.

Chapter 323: (1) He tried the words in ancient Feysac, Intis, Loen, and other languages again, but the result was the same.

As for Jotun, Elvish, Dragonese, and other languages from the mysticism domain, Klein could only try them out of hope since they was overly restrictive and unlikely to be the language used.

(2) Klein switched to the languages of Loen, Highlander, and Feysac, but still failed to achieve the desired results.

(Klein studied Jotun after transmigrating, but even excluding all the mysticism languages, considering he knew Hermes in Chapter 1, there's five)

#every time i compile quotes i realise just how much i didn't register in my first read #lord of the mysteries #lotm #lord of mysteries #klein moretti #welch mcgovern #lotm stuff

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chadillacboseman · 2 years ago

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The Power of Yes

Pairing: John Seed x F!Reader

Warnings: Oh boy! Enemies to "lovers" I will call this. Choking, rough sex, religious trauma abounds. OBVIOUSLY John Seed is a dickhead, okay? We fuck monsters here, both literal and figurative. I'm going to throw in a dubcon warning, kinda, reader gets blissed outta their mind, but the sex is explicitly consensual.

Word Count: Like 2.5k I think

A/N: This is a gift for @roofgeese >:3. The GIF is mine.

John Seed was compelling, you had to give him that.

You watched as he paced leisurely across the pulpit in the Fall's End church, babbling on about saying "yes" and atoning for sins. He had a certain enigmatic appeal when he spoke, something you couldn't quite put a finger on.

"-and that power, my friends, is the power of 'yes'!" John clenched his fist and raised it skyward as he spoke, "The power of admitting your sins and having them removed from you."

You rolled your eyes and felt the butt of a rifle press into your back; the disheveled man behind you grunted, threatening wordlessly that any further provocation would mean a bullet in your spine.

Next to you, Mary May clenched her jaw as she stared at the Seed brother, her rage almost palpable.

This was her home. Her church. Her fucking life. The Seeds had taken everything from her- including her family.

There was word, though, that a deputy from the Hope County Sheriff's department had survived the attack at the compound. Whispers abounded that Dutch had saved them and sent them out with a mission to free the people the Seeds had under their control.

John had been more on edge lately, lashing out at parishioners with a violent fervor he hadn't displayed before.

Perhaps the whispers of the deputy were true.

John strolled down the aisle, his liar's bible clutched protectively in his hands, flanked by armed guards. Back at the pulpit, a bloodied Pastor Jerome sat, unmoving, his face set in a sort of bewildered anger.

The youngest Seed paused when he came to your pew and cocked his head, his piercing eyes like to sapphires set in his rugged face. He studied you for a moment before motioning to the man behind you.

"What-" your question was cut short when the man slung a burlap bag over your head and drug you out to the waiting van.

When the burlap was finally pulled from your head, you were in a dim room you didn't recognize; there were no windows that you could see, and the only light came from a table lamp next to you.

"Sorry about the rough travel arrangements," John's voice came from somewhere behind you and you nearly jolted out of the chair, "Didn't want you to know all of my secrets."

"Oh, how prescient of you," you turned your head just enough to catch him out of the corner of your vision. He was seated in a wing-backed chair near a fireplace. Above the mantle, a photo of the "father", Joseph Seed hung, illuminated by the orange glow of the desk lamp.

John chuckled and rose from his chair, striding into your full view like a prowling cat, his eyes twinkling with an almost mischievous glint.

"You know, I think you and I got off on the wrong foot," John leaned against a table, his eyes never leaving yours, "You're not like the other sinners in Fall's End."

"Sinners". He said the word with a snakelike spit, full of contempt for the people who had taken you in like family.

"I'm not from there," you said simply and he chuckled again.

"That much I gathered. You're different than they are," He took a step forward and you recoiled on instinct. You had seen what he had done to others before you.

You were smart enough to keep your mouth shut.

"Are you afraid of me?" his voice was low, threatening, full of malice that you had seen inflicted on many a person before you.

"N-no," your voice faltered and he grinned like a cheshire cat. There was something handsome about his features, even when he was bearing down on you like a hungry wolf.

"You know how I feel about that word, little lamb. Especially when it's a lie."

The nickname was new. You supposed he thought himself a shepherd, simply trying to guide the flock of Fall's End onto the righteous path.

"You know, that fool of a pastor and the barmaid," another word spat with disgust, "they speak as if they know me. They call me a monster- a zealot. I'm none of those things."

John ran a hand along the wood of the table, fingers tracing the intricacies of what you suspected was an expensive tree of some kind. His gaze followed his hand's movement, bright eyes tracing along with them.

"All I am is a shepherd, just like the Father. I want to make you all the best you can be," he glanced up at you and you felt as if your heart was frozen for a moment.

You hated him so much.

Right?

But what if the Seed family knew something you didn't?

No, that wasn't possible-

Was it?

John stared at you from across the room as if he could hear every thought rattling in your skull. His jewel bright eyes never left yours as you argued with yourself internally, your thoughts like a

"Do you need more proof?" his voice was low, no longer threatening, almost playful. He prowled toward you and you felt your chest tighten.

"Yes."

You gathered that you had to be in a bunker as John strode alongside you through the hallways. Metal, tube-like walls accompanied enormous blast proof doors marked with large numbers and words that sounded vaguely militaristic.

In the halls, you passed Eden's Gate devotees, milling about doing their daily duties. Most of them ignored you as you passed, but a select few gave you looks of disgust and contempt.

You felt a growing sense of unease as you walked along with him - he gave you the illusion of free will, allowing you to walk with him freely, but always maintaining a powerful and unnerving presence.

But something about John was different than the other Seeds.

You sensed that, in the past, he had been a very different man. The glint in his eyes when he glanced at you only solidified that notion.

The two of you rounded a corner and came to a large metal door, which John unlocked with a series of keys strung around his neck.

When he ushered you inside, you found yourself in a darkened room, walls flanked with green barrels.

Bliss.

You knew about the drug that Eden's Gate produced- made from a local flower that grew abundantly on the mountains around Hope County.

Its effects were well-known by the people of Fall's End. Mary May had seen her friends lose themselves in the Bliss, completely unable to control themselves.

You moved to take a step backward, but John's firm hand cupped your lower back and pressed you forward into the room. When he shut the door, all light but the dim glow of a table lamp was snuffed out.

"I want to leave," your voice sounded small in the room, swallowed up by the darkness and the isolation of it all.

"Why?"

"You're not drugging me," you whispered; your lips had begun to quiver in fear and your legs felt weak.

"No, I'm not," John strode over to one of the barrels and ran a hand leisurely along the metal lid, "I'm giving you an opportunity to see."

"See what?"

"The truth," he responded simply with a shrug, "About Joseph, about me, about everything."

The truth?

You knew that Bliss could induce hallucinations- "visions" as the cult called them.

But what if they were?

What if Joseph was right?

John turned the lid slowly, his eyes fixated on yours, as a green-tinged fog began to roll from the barrel and flood the room.

You didn't protest.

John moved behind you as the fog reached your feet, wrapping a broad arm around your frame and holding you in place as your vision began to waver, like were staring into the distance on a hot day.

The Bliss was overwhelming, slowly flooding your mind like a noxious weed until you could hardly stand. You felt as if you were floating, grounded only by the feeling of John's chest against your back and his heavy arm around your shoulders.

"Do you feel it?" his voice was husky in your ear, sending a ripple of goosebumps down your spine, "Isn't it wonderful?"

It was.

You had never felt anything like it. No drug you had ever taken, no liquor you had ever drunk had made you feel like the Bliss did.

"Yes," you breathed, and he laughed softly, the sound of it was as if it came from the end of a long tunnel.

Visions swam into your mind like memories, given to you by the Bliss. John's voice warbled in your ears, no- in your head, as if he had his fingers digging directly into your brain while he spoke.

"Joseph is a prophet. He knows things, knows them more than any of us will ever know." A vision of Joseph swam before your eyes, his hands raised, Christlike, as he stood in a field of flowers.

"The end....is coming," Joseph's voice pushed John's out of your head and took residence there, the sharp claws of it grasping every fold of your brain, "And when it does, only the faithful will be spared."

Visions of fire and brimstone followed his words; Fall's End burned before your eyes, erupting in a ball of flame. Animals fled the carnage, eyes wild as they ran toward you and disappeared before they collided with your corporeal form.

Sheriff Whitehorse was there, standing among the wreckage, flames licking at his uniform as he stared, unblinking, into your eyes.

"And behold...." Joseph's voice returned and the sheriff's eyes glowed, orange like the fire below him, "A white horse. And upon him, sat death."

Death.

Hope county in flames. Everyone you had come to love, dead.

John gripped you more tightly as you squeezed your eyes shut and choked back a sob.

Maybe Joseph was right.

He was right. He was right-

"He's right-" you gasped, and John's grip tightened around your shoulders, "We're all going to die-"

"No, no," John soothed, his voice hot on your ear as you leaned into his grasp, "No. The believers will be spared, little lamb. You. You are a believer. I always knew it in my heart."

His large hand came from your shoulder up around your neck and you gasped as he squeezed gently, sending stars into your already foggy vision.

"John," you choked out his name and felt him jolt against you.

Something was different. The air in room changed as his name hung in the dead silence- still the green fog of the Bliss swirled around you.

"Say it again," he hissed in your ear and his grip tightened ever so slightly.

"John-"

Something changed in the youngest Seed at that moment.

Something he'd locked away for so long was threatening to break free. It clawed at him like a beast behind a door, thrashing and throwing itself at the wood until it splintered and he gave way to the urges he'd hidden away for so long.

Joseph had told him to give up the "sins of the flesh" as he called it. He knew of John's past- of how he had given in to vices that made him lose himself almost entirely. Vices that nearly ruined his life.

So, John had locked it away, pushed it aside and focused instead on being a shepherd to the people of Hope County. But now, he had you here, back pressed against his chest, lost in the bliss and practically begging him for it.

What Joseph didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"Say yes," John sounded as if he was on the verge of desperation as he spoke, his voice hoarse while his beard rubbed against your ear, "Say you want it."

"Yes," you still felt as if you were floating, suspended above the earth with only his body keeping you grounded, "Yes. I want it."

It was the only permission John needed.

His hand snaked down to the waistline of your jeans, tugging at them until he had them down around your ankles. His hand never left your throat, gently squeezing as his free hand struggled for a moment with his own belt.

You needed him so badly- the Bliss had you entirely in its grasp, it felt as if you were going to erupt if he didn't touch you.

You felt yourself being lowered to the floor, the clouds of bliss rolled over you and you whimpered- it felt like too much.

Too much. Too much.

You struggled until your eyes found his and you gave him a silent plea, unable to speak through your leaden lips.

"I have you," John purred as he hitched your legs up around his waist, his words grounded you and you let out the breath you had been holding.

When he slipped inside you, you cried out and arched off of the floor, clawing for purchase against his shirt. He shushed you gently and stayed still for a moment, trying to push back the urge to fuck you senseless- to make you beg for mercy as he took advantage of your Blissed out mind.

That was the old John.

He knew what it felt like to be pushed past your limits. He knew it all too well- much of his life had been spent being pushed past his limits.

No, now he went slowly, sinking himself down until he was hilted inside you, watching your wide, doe-like eyes as they stared up at him, hazy and full of want.

It wasn't just the bliss that made you want him anymore. No, you wanted him in earnest. Perhaps you had always wanted him- somewhere buried underneath your hatred and resentment, you had always found him compelling, handsome even.

John's hand found your throat once more as he set a torturously slow pace, pulling out of you almost entirely before bottoming out again, his grip on your windpipe tightening in time with each thrust.

"This is how you repent, little lamb," his mouth found your ear as he spoke, each thrust of his hips jolting you so that the roughness of his beard grated against you, "Once, you were a sinner like them," he didn't have to tell you who he meant, "But now you will be cleansed."

The irony of his words was lost on you. You didn't care about the dirt on the floor or the way he was falling apart at the seams, returning, if only for a moment, to the John he used to be.

No, you only cared about the way he felt inside you, the way the Bliss made every movement feel even more heated, more unbearably, painfully incredible than the last.

"And when I'm done," John paused to punctuate the words with another hard thrust, "I'll do this again and again until your sin is gone. Would you like that?"

"Yes."

His favorite word. He grinned and squeezed your throat tightly until you saw stars that the Bliss didn't make. He'd push you, push you right up until you hit your limit, then he'd back down.

When he backed down, you were begging for more, offering your exposed throat like an animal submitting. He knew he had brought you here for a reason.

You were special.

John's thrusts quickened and you felt yourself teetering wildly on the edge, driven almost to madness by the way his cock hammered at the very core of you. Inside your head, the bliss swarmed your brain like a hive of wasps, each thrust setting your mind alight with white hot heat.

When your first orgasm washed over you, you cried out his name and tried to shove him away, but he didn't relent; he pinned you down and kept at it until you were cumming again, mewling and crying under him like some kind of suffering animal.

John tried his best to control himself as he felt you tighten around him- he tried so valiantly to maintain his composure.

It was a futile effort.

As your second orgasm sent you into fits of sobs, John felt himself lose control. Every ounce of him was lost inside you, spilling until he filled you completely, his cum dripping from you in pearlescent rivulets down the curve of your ass and to the cold concrete floor.

John was breathing heavily, his weight propped up on his hands that were planted firmly on either side of you.

The Bliss began to fade from your mind, dissipating like a fog rolling over the lake with the rising sun. Your head ached as you watched John rise from the floor and dust himself off slowly.

You moved to get up, but John tutted and cupped your chin, tilting your face up to look at him,

"I'm not done with you yet."

#john seed x reader #seed family #far cry 5 #ns/fw #sorry if this aint what you hoped lol #i really burnt out toward the end!

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