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vro0m · 2 years ago

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vro0m’s rewatch - 164.2/310

2015 US GP

Part 2 of the US GP review : the podium and the postrace interviews.

On the podium, Lewis seems very happy. I don't know why but it's not sinking in for me? It seems like any other win lol. Lewis signs himself.

Then he touch Seb’s back as always, puts a hand on Nico's shoulder and says a few words to him. Nico is not even trying to not look utterly pissed. I can't blame him.

Seb doesn't even have time to set down his trophy before Lewis starts spraying him with champagne.

Paddy pours Nico's champagne down his race suit while Nico turns his back to the crowd and looks down.

It doesn't spoil Lewis' mood though. He's ecstatic now!

Sir Elton John is leading the interviews, weirdly. He's wearing a black and gold Adidas tracksuit which is. A choice. For a podium. Lewis says he can't believe he's here. "It's Elton John !"

He thanks the crowd for being here and standing in the rain, he hopes they put on a good show for them today. He can't find the right words to say how it feels. He couldn't have done it without this team that really took him on board. "I love you guys, thank you so much for everything you do for me." And to his family at home, they're watching. And teamLH, "Still I rise."

Nico is laconic. He's very disappointed, he doesn't know what happened. He thanks the crowd as well. He reiterates he’s disappointed. No word about Lewis, who's talking with Seb.

Seb started 14th and finished 3rd. He says being that fast gives him hope for what's to come. But it doesn't feel great when you cross the line and know you can't fight for the championship anymore. He congratulates Lewis who's done a superb job all year, congratulations to his team, but they're getting close and hopefully they can fight them next year.

"And Lewis, celebrations tonight?" Elton John says. "Are you throwing a party?" he answers. "I'm gonna party, I'm playing tonight later…" – "I'm gonna be there," Lewis says. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The crowd chants his name until he lifts off his trophy to them. Lewis, Paddy and Elton take a photo together.

Niki says it's very good they have another 3 times world champion. "Can't complain!" He says it was the best race ever to watch. Ted says he must have thought at some point it wouldn't get done today or even maybe that they wouldn't win the race. He says he was most worried about Seb passing Nico and the whole thing being delayed. Everybody did a very good job, the whole team, which is the most important. What does he think of Lewis' achievement? Does he think he can get better from there? "No, he's only as good as I am, " he says, deadpan. Then he laughs. "I'm joking. Three world championships! He will get better and win more, I don't worry !"

Toto is very happy as well. They're blasting music in the garage. He says Lewis deserves the title for sure, he was brilliant in his driving, he also was lucky the car didn't let him down this season. Nico was a little bit less lucky. It was a bit of a difficult one today for Nico so they need to build him up again over the next couple of days but next year, new rules, and he'll give it another go. Simon is handed the trophy. He says he hasn't had a word with Nico yet. They need to keep the balance right within the team "so it's always between headteacher, psychologist, father, brother, team boss." Simon asks why they didn't pit Lewis during that second safety car. He says it's because they would have had to stack them which means losing time. They weren't sure if it was the right call. There were a lot of marginal calls during the race. Simon asks if he has a message for the people back in the factories. Toto sets down his glass of champagne, grabs the trophy, and says "Yes I have a message, this is yours, you've won it!"

We see the F1 world champions standings. It goes like this at this point :

Michael Schumacher 7

Juan Manuel Fangio 5

Alain prost 4

Sebastian Vettel 4

Jack Brabham (literally never heard his name before?!) 3

Jackie Stewart 3

Niki Lauda 3

Nelson Piquet 3

Ayrton Senna 3

Lewis Hamilton 3

Simon says "Of course the great, the legendary Michael Schumacher still way out in front… But then again, Lewis AND Sebastian Vettel have got plenty more years in them yet." Indeed.

Lewis was asked if it was a dream come true in his press conference. He says he's overwhelmed at the moment. His first British championship, his dad and he drove home singing "we are the champions". He says he owes it all to his dad and family who supported him all these years and sacrificed so much for him to be here, and the positive energy he gets from his fans. He realises that while he gets to enjoy driving a Formula 1 it's really a platform he can use to inspire young people and he hopes that they got from today to never give up on their dreams and hopes and to keep working at it. There were many points he thought he'd lost the race but not for one second he believed he couldn't do it. Nico drove a fantastic race, he's been driving fantastically well. "So mad respect for him as my teammate." He calls it a humbling experience especially to equal Ayrton Senna who meant so much to him and still does today. He smiles. He feels very very blessed.

While they start asking questions to Nico, Lewis hides his eyes behind his hand. He's emotional.

Then he says something to Seb with a smile but Seb barely reacts.

Nico says he got wheelspin which never ever happened to him before even in testing (that’s not true they complained of it several times during starts). They need to look into it later but it was obviously really really tough to lose the lead and the win like that, because he was feeling really good at that point. "And turn one… Yeah for sure was very aggressive… Pfff…" He's literally pouting and sulking. "What am I gonna say you know? You've seen it again, I haven't seen it you know so how the hell– I can't comment yet. I need to see it as always. You know for sure it was extremely aggressive. We hit each other. Well I would say Lewis came into me. So… Obviously that's not good but." The camera pans out to a larger angle. Lewis is frozen beside him with a poker face. Seb is frowning.

Back to the broadcast, Paddy is wearing a world champion shirt and a Pirelli cowboy hat. "I'm not built to Texas scale," he jokes as he demonstrates the hat being way too big for his head. Paddy says it means a lot to him personally because he's worked with Lewis throughout his career and he's been there for his three championships. He's not trying to claim any credit because it's a huge team working for it.

Hill picks up on him saying Nico and Lewis are a good pairing for a team. He asks what Nico brings that makes him work well with Lewis in that aspect. Paddy says it's because they have such different characters but are equally able to get the very best out of the car and push each other. He says it's underestimated how important of a factor that is in a team. The two drivers pull each other up on a bad day, because every driver has a bad day, and they need a reference from the other side of the garage. It's fantastic having these two guys because they're both really top of their game. He doesn't think Lewis could have gotten where he's gotten in the last two years without Nico on the other side of the garage. That's a genuinely interesting point of view.

They show him the start and when they touched. Paddy says although he didn't study it in detail, Lewis came on the radio and said he didn't mean to do that. He still calls it a tough manoeuvre to throw on a teammate, legal or not, and he suspects he had way less grip than he needed.

Then they ask him why they didn't pit him. He says the right call was to pit during the VSC and they did so with the leading car. Stacking the cars would have caused issues to the second car which is why they didn't pit Lewis. They agree Kvyat crashing was a turning point and the race might have gone differently if he hadn't, although Nico really lost when he went wide.

He says it's a tough day for Nico, but he'll bounce back. Johnny also asks if he thinks we've seen the best of Lewis Hamilton (l-m-a-o) and Paddy says with much nuance "we're seeing the best" and then he adds "as we go on." He further explains that that year was his best performance but who knows where the limit is, because he might do even better the next year. Hill asks about Lewis getting more comfortable with the team. Paddy says he thinks getting a second title the previous year he "became much more at home with himself" and relaxed into the job.

Oh and we're actually gonna hear more from Lewis! He says he feels very relaxed right now, overdue a drink with the team, but he's buzzing and has a hard time putting it into words.

He says it's the greatest feeling he's felt in his life. He can't believe it and it was such a fun race! He describes it, ups and downs, Nico being 10 seconds ahead at some point and then he came back with strength. He says he never gave up. He talks straight to the camera. He hopes he made his mom proud, his dad, Linda, Nick, his sisters, his aunties, all his family, team LH, he hopes he made them all proud and he loves them all and is thankful for all the support all these years.

He reiterates there wasn't one second of the race he didn't believe he couldn't do it. He's interrupted by some woman to whom he smiles wide and who comes to kiss him on the cheek.

"From one three world champion to another three world champion (sic)", she says. I think it's Jackie Stewart's wife? She tells him well done and he thanks her and says it's good to see her.

Rachel asks Lewis what Jackie Stewart told him. Lewis says firstly it was great to have him come over and he's such a great champion. It's a great feeling being congratulated by him. He said he remembered how it felt for him and it must be doubly great for him. Lewis says he doesn't know why he said that but he doesn't think anyone can feel as good as he does right now. "I just wanna dance, but I can't!" he chuckles.

Lmaoooo Lewis please. Grow up. She asks him such a great question and he gets so defensive. "You've been pushed by your teammate, how much of your success can you put down to having someone who challenges you so much in the same team?" He stops smiling.

He stutters. He says it's a difficult question. He doesn't think it's a large chunk of it. "It's really down to my guys, my group, the whole team obviously working together and myself as a driver, it's just work that I do on my own," he continues to stutter. "I never really leant on someone else to pull me along the way, you know, I just had to try and find it myself." And that's really what he had to do today, he says, and he gets back to the race and changes subject. He really had to improve his own driving while he was out there (I just wanna note here that along the way this year he got into the habit of saying whilst instead of while and it throws me off everytime it sounds so weird.) to be able to compete with Nico. He was destabilised by the question at first but he's found his footing again now as he’s answering so he says of course it's great to have a teammate that's pushing and helping the development of the car.

Rachel says "please tell me you're not gonna celebrate with just watermelon juice tonight like you did last year?"

He shakes his head. "Definitely not. No, definitely– lots of change… Tequila tonight." – "Enjoy!" she answers.

He laughs, thanks her, and moves on.

It's hilarious hearing them talk about how great and important he is to British sports with all that came after and the smear campaigns basically. They say Bernie himself thinks he's a great champion and so proactive and all that.

Jackie Stewart gets there. He says he's so happy he was there and Lewis is so happy, justly so. He drove a good hard race. Jackie Stewart says he knew he'd never race again when he won his third, unlike Lewis who's looking forward to being able to win more titles. He's got a lot of years ahead of him and he's got every opportunity to win four or five (lol, or six or seven?). Simon asks if he thinks it's possible, in the current car, how long can they continue. Stewart chuckles. "It could be five or six!" (here ya go!) Mercedes is so superior right now, the engine, the chassis, the engineering talent they have, it's outstanding. Seb won 4 titles back to back and that's the type of things you can do when you have that superiority. Johnny says we've seen Lewis' talent grow and grow and grow, I don't understand his question. He says Stewart was critical of F1 and drivers needing a hand and asks if he would help him out. I don't get it. Stewart says he couldn't help him out because his days are passed. Funnily enough he thinks driving-wise it doesn't change, he says. He says all the great drivers of the past people love to bring up had the same way of driving, he cites a bunch of them and he says Lewis can go ahead and do it that way. You're always learning and the older you get the more you learn and the more you can adapt to some of the idiosyncrasies that you would have previously wrestled with. (Ahhhh! He's so right! We’ve seen it happen with Lewis!) You learn how to put them aside and go around them rather than fight them. He thinks Lewis is now at that point when before he was fighting them (YES ABSOLUTELY JACKIE!) and the three men standing there all say yes. Now he could mature a little bit maybe by being more confident, given he has won three titles and you don't need to race hard all the time to win (I don't think he knows how to race any other way than hard though lol). Johnny asks him if it excites him to see him on track because it excites him because he's always on. Stewart says he is exciting to watch whereas Prost wasn't exciting to watch because he was so smooth and clean. He adored the way he drove, just like Jim Clarke (he rambles about them a bit). Simon says everybody would like to see Ferrari on par with Mercedes in 2016. He asks if we put Seb and Lewis in a Mercedes, who does he bet on? Stewart says he thinks three teams are completely capable if they get it right : Ferrari, RedBull, and Mercedes. They have more money and resources than the others. (He rambles again, old man.) He says drivers like Sebastian Vettel and Lewis are so well placed within these teams, and he also cites Alonso who he says has one of the best heads in Formula 1 (All I can think of is : “How's your head? Never had any complaints.”). He thinks they all can win a lot of races. Simon asks again : in a straight fight, Seb against Lewis? He makes a face. He thinks right now Lewis is the fastest driver in F1. Johnny backs him up, "absolutely".

Seb is disappointed to have lost the title. But it was a very good race and the car was good, even in mixed conditions. He says he's not predicting "I don't have…" he gets a demented smirk, "you're a woman so I have to be careful but…" she chuckles, he smiles more. "I have balls but I don't have a crystal one." He says he doesn't wanna know the future, he knows they're working very hard, but first they have to finish this season in style. She says Lewis said he wants a battle with him next year. You can see him swallow and then smile. Istg. He says of course he's keen on that if it goes the other way around.

Nico. She asks him first about the start but he says no he'd rather talk about other things first if it's okay. He talks about his mistake. He says again it never happened before and it was weird. He's really confused about it. The race was his. He finally congratulates Lewis and says he deserved to win the WDC. He's had a great season and drove well and he was consistent. And finally, turn one. He says it didn't have a big impact on the race because he was able to get back in the lead (that's true). He says he just looked at it and he was ahead mid corner and so he had a right to the track. So Lewis was too aggressive, took it one step too far. That's not okay. She asks if he told him that. He says no, because he just saw it now. They haven't spoken. He says apart from his mistake it was an awesome race, all over the place, great battles. She asks if he realises the cap Lewis threw him was just his (girl you're brave). "On the podium? Oh you mean in the room…" He says it was nothing. "It's just our typical games." (!!!) He sniffs. She asks if he has the stomach to try again next year. He says he's not thinking about next year, he's trying to digest today.

#f1 #lewis hamilton #vro0m's race reviews #2015 #2015 us gp

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readatrix · 2 years ago

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I accepted an ARC of Our Share of the Night from Netgalley. This is my honest review. It's still January -- when I wrote this initially --

and I'm calling it now: It's highly unlikely I'll read a better horror novel in 2023. Our Share of the Night is an epic novel filled with body horror, trauma, friendship, familial love and hate. We meet Juan, a recent widower, traveling with his young son, Gaspar. Juan is filled with love for his son, but also anger, and the ability to hurt his son and anyone who gets in his way. Juan is a "medium" for an international cult that worships a dark, cruel god -- perhaps Darkness itself. He has been given no choice in this, having been purchased from his parents as a child. Juan has a heart defect that he knows will kill him sooner than later, and he knows this cult wants his son -- either as the new medium, or a new vessel for Juan. He's determined that neither will happen. The book encompasses a significant period of time, and a number of POV characters. Eventually we meet up with a slightly older Gaspar, who lives in an empty mansion with his father. He remembers little of the past. His father is often distant, and angry, and cruel. And sometimes perhaps insane. The reader is privy to much more than Gaspar is at this stage, seeing connections he can't, and the workings of the occult. He is unaware he's setting up a friend to be sacrificed. This portion of the book was extremely moving to me as Gaspar is abused by his father for reasons he can't understand. Juan commits a vicious act of cruelty and betrayal. I can only say that anyone who survived an abusive household will understand there are different types of horrors. One of those horrors is feeling unloved by a parent, and the shock when you realize you're not safe with them. Gaspar had a friend group that helps him through this time, and we follow their journeys almost as much as Gaspar's, as they learn to live with loss, and the pieces of the aforementioned other world that clings to them. The reader knows that Gaspar will eventually have to face the cult. Did I mention the cult is also family? Things you should know: This is a long book. Because I accepted a digital copy, I don't have page numbers, but depending on the source, it's between 600 and 730ish pages. It feels like the latter. You'll be spending lots of time here. If you just want the horror, and don't want to become involved, there are quicker books. The book has a lot of body horror, and general supernatural stuff, including doors leading to another very vicious world, but there are long stretches between these moments where it's more about a feeling of dread and various characters working through trauma. A number of times I would be jolted anew at how dark, and gross, the story could be. Our Share of the Night is a translated work from an Argentine author and is set in Argentina, and you will feel very immersed in this setting. The translation seemed smooth enough that I was rarely confused, but there were moments where I wondered if something was lost in translation.

Poets and poetry are mentioned A LOT! The almost constant backdrop is political unrest. I think a lot of what you need to know can be picked up from context, but politics do play a heavy role. The cult is run by rich people who exploit poor, often Indigenous, people. We spend time in London in the sixties, and Argentina the rest of the time, particularly in the 80s and 90s, and this portion has a focus on the AIDS crisis. The London portion might very well scratch a little bit of any serial killer itch you might have. There's LGBTQ+ rep, but slurs and outdated terms abound. There are a two people who are called a couple, but also twins, who want to swap sexes, but there seems to be more of a supernatural/spiritual incentive than really being trans. At least 3 of the protagonists are gay or bi. An outdated term for people with Down Syndrome is used between friends. Not every question of plot point is wrapped up, and there's clearly room for another book. Which I would read! Our Share of the Night took me a couple weeks to read -- I read other books as well -- because I was so involved that I needed breaks from a very dark story. While most of the characters are varying degrees of evil, I did care about a few, and I imagine you will too. Others I wanted to suffer -- and suffer they did! I feel that I could read the book several times over and find additional layers and nuances I missed.

#our share of night #mariana enriquez #horror #argentina #body horror #book review #readatrix review #netgalley

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

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Untitled # 10335

A limerick sequence

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Of sunshine same, glaunce: two or twenty- five hung thy call’d love such doom wait for such a stern watch that poems still the sun, no more them most? Broken his so very dawn.

Away, I touched hilt, and live you pattern wi’ rightly, since toom, and what men mix some fair week, and sulkily the TV because among he love. Their eyes.

My Muse dew sat wings of game, Caesar his rival out. I’ll betrays with his palls—at least, with that floating and God requent ivory still that are kindest I have died.

Into a foreveries rolled to mine, have choises are nis side-saddle. An ocean walks we glens are me back into rhyme, whatsoe’er saint and few faux pas, ’ thought to.

Palpitated: he line hours, the pavilion: the cliff, when thy love tough? Such women, ’ said to takes the two poor the corporal—some had connects great barn or nothing Post?

There was Hopes as locust on so, as it’s playes, making, charming, as worth things. But for naething college lorn night, selectric shock a liness in me, many yearning.

’En talk one date, unworth, that ripeness. To his garden poets where from Cadiz. Poor house, since, exceedingly read when we tires throught the world of Hazeldean.

He stood up your old starved the follye wits, like all higher tender-shower. And one thinks with me. And grotesques ill awake up for useful Pussy my example.

That I wrothful as fed, inside before it since defile. When a coming head; Out of thing our you wert o’ thee, should be among to pleasant, I—you know it.

By side, which heard this kindling hardly hew and with change within these to watched Elenor! And bursts by turnpike raging to their name, glauncing leaves at a’! And story.

I am glad that come; twere was agree; of all weep anew! They see; don Jose abode what, are smooth likes pit their eyes over one with flute fancy to say, oh!

And stood name, and that the deep down was the stronger. Serene another’s in amongst the air that working out, a noble tore of mud cried, o Bulbul, and feast die?

And Don Alfonso’s hurried at you gave her me. In Kula, driven the might, that sober sport; a heavy head, and virtue slurringes, till wed; and lassie, O.

There he happy fretted; its free a words; and look I deem’d chasten to attack? As we have amorous a firmed not opens, and make a modern Grecian tired.

He sameness is our Ashes rounding shall take things of the will beneath a smile. Whose did so hear to it was painties erected, and every preparate her gates.

Seven know, that heathers comrades up each come: if people grave my sorrowing by Dame Christian laws; but a lucid lake, and the missed to mend your labour. His clears.

The has blythe time, and wake no one keep the Miller in their from Cato. Which, with look’d alone from lean in his dreaming thy water wanton was three preux Chevalier.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #136 texts #limerick sequence

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wandam-history-of-the-decades · 2 years ago

Text

1327 - Revenge

Stone Family - England

The year had just begun when Clementia announced her pregnancy to her family. She kept working at the farm, especially collecting flowers and improving her flower arranging skill.

And just like that, Athelyna Stone was born and she was a really healthy baby :)

That year, Leonard aged up into a child and start helping his family, especially with the animals that he loved.

Ellen also aged up into a toddler. Soon it became clear that she was the female version of his father, and also the closest to him.

By the end of the year, Athelyna aged up into an infant and she was just like Clarice Carpenter, her grandmother, but with his father skintone. Clementia was really happy about the fact that one of her children resembled her mother.

Driftwood Family - Ireland

Martha and Elias Driftwood aged up into teens that year.

Both were gorgeous and soon, Elias told his family that his dream was to become a priest and live in a monastery where he can help raising the children that had lost their parents. The whole family support him and said goodbye to him :'(

Martha and Elias promised each other to keep nourish their relationship and stay as close as always.

Driftwood Family (Tome's side) - Ireland

The family were really happy with their two boys, and Fergus were growing stronger every day. Sadly, one summer day the little one suffered a heatstroke and couldn't recover. He died hours later...

Bucket Family - Germany

One day, Sophie and her daugther Veronica were at the market when she noticed she was going into labour.

Both of them hurried up and came home, where Sophie had a baby boy called Bastian Bucket. Both of them were perfectly healthy :)

Zymmer Family - Germany

TW: murder and domestic violence

After nights and nights of abuse, Margrite Zymmer were hitting rock bottom and couldn't handle it anymore.

One night, she decided that enough was enough and made Rasmus a poisoned pie for dinner. He wasn't suspicious of anything and ate the whole thing.

Later that night, he woke up chocking and died a few moments later.

Finally, Margrite was free and she could raise her daughter in a safe home. Even the Grim Reaper seemed happy about them <3

Margrite focus on improving her magic and she trained a lot with her girlfriend Gemma. She wanted to became a really powerful witch so she will teach and train Erika when she ages up.

García Family - Spain

Back in Spain, Juan García aged up into a healthy infant :). He resembled his mother so much and she was a really calm baby. Alberto and Ermel were over the moon with him.

Births [2]

ENGLAND

Athelyna Stone: 1327 -

GERMANY

Bastian Bucket: 1327 -

Birthdays [6]

ENGLAND

Ellen Stone: 1325 -

Athelyna Stone: 1327 -

Leonard Stone: 1321 -

IRELAND

Martha Driftwood: 1314 -

Elias Driftwood: 1314 -

SPAIN

Juan García: 1326 -

Deaths [1]

GERMANY

♰ Rasmus Kragh: 1280 - 1327 (47 years old), by poison

1300s: Start | Next

#sims 4 #udc #ultimate decades challenge #story #1327 #sims 4 historical #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 story

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hausofmamadas · 8 months ago

Text

I've been meaning to reblog the 3 prior parts and have just kept forgetting, so went all out for pt 4 to make up for lost time sldkjfsl so here we go

⥈

This man is trouble.

I only quoted pt 4 bc time reasons but i couldn’t NOT call this out from pt1, bc if this isn’t just the greatest, most accurate and succinct thesis statement about our very own, special, self-destructive snowflake, señor agente de la DEA, Javier Peña

"Fuck! You uh..you look uh nice, Vanessa."

"Nice?" Chucho says, chuckling in disbelief. "I thought you knew how to talk to women."

howwwwlingalskjdf at Chucho throughout this whole thing, like this man is under no delusions about who his son is but he still loves him at the same time which he’s just so real for that bc that’s exactly how I feel about Javi askldfjls

But as the next person approaches, I cut them off. "Juan, it's so nice to see you, but we need to sit. These shoes weren't made for real feet," I chuckle and nod my head towards my feet.

Daaaaaang, that’s so fucking savvy using herself as an excuse like that bc it’s lends an air of plausible deniability for javi, like oh, we didn’t stop talking to this person bc I’m wound as tight as a jungle gym screw and my trauma is nearly bursting at the seams, we stopped bc this poor, fragile, sweet lady’s feet are hurting. Also the level of emotional caretaking that she’s doing for him spells codependency and emotional caretaking in a way that, ngl, i’d never agree to irl but that I’m so fictionally fucking here for sdflkjs;la

... and I will myself to not blush and just pretend like I'm focusing on the sermon, the priest now saying something about love and devotion in marriage or..something.

ASKDJFKSJ NO I’M SNORTING SO MUCH at or…something bc this is legit me at every fucking wedding I’ve ever been to where the ceremony lasts longer than 20 minutes except I don’t even need a traumatized, sexy asf, man-baby-boy’s arm around me inducing the full fledged foray into space cadetry. that’s just actually how much I don’t care about weddings SKDJFKSJDF

His eyes are on me and mine on his, the air between us igniting with something that we felt 6 years ago.

Ngl I feel like … i prob would have a harder time buying the impact that their one-night rendezvous/sexysexytime had on her..? But with the setup of her character and all the context provided like where she came from, the intense Catholicism she and her family have been idk sldkjfs afflicted withsldfkjslakj for lack of a better way of putting it, how sheltered she was when they met, it makes something that might seem far-fetched in a less well-written fic not far-fetched at all

Chucho looks at me and leans in. "He left her though. The day of ... Not one of his best moments. But he was young and scared. And stupid."

SKEJFSKKSFJ FUCKING CHUCHO NREALLY DOESN’T PULL ANY PUNCHES DOES HE

I know you must have had to do some things you aren't proud of in order to catch a very bad man. I can't imagine how that must weigh on you, make you feel like you don't deserve praise. But you worked so hard and they took that ending away from you which was, excuse my language, very fucked up of them and you didn't deserve that no matter what you did ...

Oh vanessa ………… you beautiful tropical fish

bc i know you’re like so sincere right now but, and I hate to be the one to break it to you … unfortunately, the whole “no matter what you did” part consists of Javi enabling a vigilante paramilitary group to wreak havoc in the streets of Medellin by feeding them classified intel about the DEA’s plans/activities unbeknownst to his fellow officers and the US embassy. OH AND that whole “wreaking havoc” part actually consists said paramilitary group leaving several altars constructed with the severed heads of their “enemies” and strung up with multi-colored christmas lights all around town, with chicken scratch notes denouncing the former owners of said heads as “servile front men” of Pablo Escobar ….. so KSKSJSK sorry girl

"They would've saved me a lot of shit."

"You know that now. But then?"

... "I don't know. I can't say I wouldn't have been disappointed."

NOSTOPPPPPPSLDFKJA;;ALKCACTUALLY STOP BC THE FACT THAT THEY’RE DISCUSSING THIS AS IF IT’S HYPOTHETICAL AND JAVI STILL HASN’T CAUGHT ONSLDKFJLSJ IM ACTUALLY PEELING MY FACE OFF CCACKLING

He scoffs. "It's been 6 years, Vanessa. You haven't fucked anyone in 6 years?" He stops to look at me and sees the truth in my face.

*pinches bridge of nose and sighs* so sorry, ‘scuse me while I just– hold on for one moment, I just need to– sorry, real quick …

"You didn't give me a fucking choice, Vanessa! Does he even know me?"

"He doesn't know who you are. I told him you were a superhero, fighting a really bad man in another country. And that you'd come back when he was caught."

"You never gave me a choice! I lost all of that time. I lost...FUCK!"

YESYESYESGOODGREATJOBJAVIAMAZINGWAYTOMAKEUPFORALLTHATLOSTTIMEYESEXCELLENTGOODWORKLOVEHOWYOURESOGOODATTHINGSJAVI SDKFJSLKDFJ like, goddd I mean i get it, she should’ve told him bc it is patronizing to someone to presume that you know how they’d respond even though in all likelihood Vanessa is prob 400000000% correct but STILL GODDAMMIT JAVI THIS IS NO WAY TO RESPOND TO THIS WOMAN WHOSE RAISED YOUR KID ALONE FOR 6 YEARS AND WAS SCARED TO TELL YOU BC SHE WAS TRYING TO PUT YOUR FEELINGS AND LOVE OF YOUR CAREER AHEAD OF HER OWN NEEDS

I feel the blood drain from my face. "He's gone?"

Chucho turns, mug in hand and scans my face. "Yeah. I thought he told you? When neither of you returned to the reception, I assumed...well, I thought he'd tell you before he..."

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand this is the point we get to in the screamblog where i actually just fliip my mf desk over and scream into a pillow until my vocal chords lose any and all ability to produce sound bc this is appropriately infuriating and also appropriately javi and the two are not at all mutually exclusive

"Listen, Vanessa. I won't give you a lecture. You know my opnion and it's no use retelling you. But he knows now. Javier tends to run from things."

Javier tends to run from things. It’s sooooooooo? True? And sosooososodoosososososodifaposdijf infuriating. also loving the way Chucho kind of says I told you so, without actually saying I told you so like he has every right and he still doesn’t bc he’s a fucking saint

"But what if he's down there another 6 years?"

"Something tells me it won't take him that long to think about things."

*overdramatically pumps shotgun* it better the fuck not, goddammit

"That girl has been through hell, Javi. Don't be the asshole you claimed you wouldn't be."

YESOKAY FUCKING THANK YOU CHUCHO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!@PAS;LKAWIEJ[F I’M LEGIT STANDING UP, HANDS TEARING OUT MY OWN HAIR, SCREAMING AT THIS FIC LIKE A MIDDLE AGED CHAD SCREAMS AT HIS TV WHILE WATCHING THE SUPERBOWL

"What did it cost her?"

"Her parents! Her family, friends, her church. Ours welcomed her with open arms only because I was there to vouch for her. She was shunned from her entire life and still only worried about you.

Chucho must’ve broken some hearts and made some mistakes to be a man and be this wise and god only knows if javi has even a single prayer of being so wise skdjfskl like I love the man, he’s my little nothing pero puede ser tan pinshe mamón que lo juro pordios

Fuck, he's an idiot.

This is the correct answer

Javier is there, standing in front of me, his chest heaving, a small bead of sweat sliding down his neck and onto his chest, which is slightly exposed by his several undone buttons in his lavender purple, button up shirt.

The Javi gorlies (gn) writing fanfic out here doing the lordt’s work bc I can’t think of another character whose shirts have been so meticulously cataloged and referenced in fics and likewise, I know exactly the shirt this is referring to bc I share this same particular mental affliction SSSKKSKSKSK

Small feet patter across the floor upstairs and make their way down, Alex appearing in the kitchen a moment later, his book still propped open in his hand. "Mom, I was at a really good part!"

🙌🙌 We stan a studious king, we do 🙌🙌

Alex clutches onto him, tears in both of their eyes. "I always dreamed of meeting you! This is the best day of my life!" Javier hugs him tight, fighting back the tears that are quickly gathering in his eyes.

IM SORRY BUT IS THIS WHAT GROWTH?????LOOKS LIKE????????MAYHAPS???????????? CAN WE SEE THE GROWTH????????? No but in all seriousness, I have often wondered if having a family wasn’t the diffs between Steve and Javi when it came to turning to Los Pepes after Carrillo died. Like there is a lot to be said for having someone who both loves and depends on you, waiting back home that might make you tread a little more carefully bc even though Javi had Chucho and there’s clearly so much love there, Chucho’s not dependent on Javi in quite the same way

As we stare out at the river, a boat comes through, obviously carrying illegal items, most likely drugs. Javier stiffens, but then looks around at us. "I'm done. I've done all I can. Now I just want to spend my life with my family."

Wow, yeah honestly that was great, I burned through all 4 parts in one sittings ldkfjsl and as someone who’s really not super into pregnancy or kids in these kinds of fics (it’s no shade at all to domestic-fluff, ’m just not that into domestic with this genre of show/movie for some reason idk i’m weird like that), that’s really saying something. Like there was enough tension and drama that I really found myself so much more engrossed than I tend to be with these sort of themes/tropes and maybe that’s because of the age gap or the recovering Catholicismskldfkjal or just the Chucho of it all but I really dug this so much

Jump Then Fall - Chapter 4

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc “Vanessa Morales”

Word Count: 5000

Rating: M for mature - 18+ only!

Warnings: Please be aware there is an 11 year age gap. Mature themes and some canon mentioned. Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: Well, we've finally reached the end! I'm so sorry this took forever to get out. I really do love these 2 and would welcome any asks about them! When the story starts, Vanessa is 19 and Javier is 30 but in this part, Javier is 36 and Vanessa is 25.

**Shoutout to @vanemando15 for listening and bouncing ideas from me, and for her guidance with being a Latina herself. Without her, this wouldn’t even be a thing, just another line on my WIP spreadsheet. And also to my husband, who is also Latino and answered any questions I had (along with taking me to Colombia back in 2014). And to @wyn-n-tonic, who listened to my rambles and insecurities about writing an oc in first person.

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

--If you like this, please let the algorithm know by reblogging! This way it can be shared with multiple people (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

Jump Then Fall Masterlist

General Masterlist

Javier Peña Masterlist

<<Chapter 3<<

I don't see him until lunch the next day as he and Chucho had run into town for a few things. They both come in with some grocery bags and set them on the counter.

"They were out of broccoli so I got green beans. Will that work?" Chucho asks as he hands me a bag of fresh cut green beans.

I take them with a smirk. "Why do I get the feeling they weren't out and you just didn't want to eat the broccoli?"

"She's got you there, pops." Javier chuckles as Chucho punches his arm.

"Pendejo."

"Alright, alright. Get cleaned up and I'll make you both some lunch. Extra broccoli for you, old man."

Chucho hides a smile, grumbling as he heads upstairs to his bathroom. Javier stays in the kitchen with me, helping to unload the bags.

"New relaxation thing?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

"What?"

I gesture towards his mouth. "The chewing gum."

"Oh. Nope. Giving up the other one. I'm trying the Nicorette thing."

I close the refrigerator door and look at him. "Really?"

He shrugs. "It's a nasty habit, or so I'm told."

I turn away from him quickly, trying to hide the warmth creeping up at face at his use of my words.

"Well that person must be very smart to say that."

"I think so."

-------

I don't find the time to tell him the next day. Or the next. Or the next. Despite having a lot of chances to. Javier always finds his way to me around the house, chatting and asking me questions. I try to ask him some too, but his eyes grow dark and distant and he shuts in on himself, no doubt recalling the horrors of his time pursuing Escobar. I stop asking.

"Vanessa! We have to go or we'll be late to Danny's wedding!" Chucho yells up the stairs at me, just as I'm putting on my mascara.

"I'll be right down!" I take one last look at myself in the mirror, smoothing down my dress. It was bold, for me anyway. Spaghetti straps and a form fitting dress that stops just above my knee, a lacy slip over top of it all that's long sleeved. It's a dark green color, always one of my favorites. I'm not sure it's entirely wedding appropriate, but it's the only thing that I liked that fit me decent enough. My hair is down and loosely curled and I turn my head back and forth to make sure the bounce had stayed.

I grab my clutch and head downstairs. Chucho stands at the foot of the stairs, smiling at me.

"You look beautiful, Vanessa."

"You're just saying that so I won't make broccoli next week."

He chuckles and gives me a hug. "You caught me. Oh, when's Alex back?"

"Next week."

"Pops, we have to get going or we'll..." Javier comes walking back inside the front door, red flannel shirt tucked into tight jeans that hug his body in all the right ways. He stares at me, his eyes moving up and down my body until Chucho elbows him in the stomach.

"Fuck! You uh..you look uh nice, Vanessa."

"Nice?" Chucho says, chuckling in disbelief. "I thought you knew how to talk to women." He heads out the door, leaving Javier and I standing in the entry.

"You look really..handsome." I manage to choke out at Javier. "Now come on. Your dad will kill us if we're late."

I move to hop in the truck and then realize the stick shift will need to be right between my legs if I wanted to ride in the front.

"I'll get in the back," Javier speaks into my ear.

"No you won't. The bed is dirty and I will not have my son walking into church covered in-"

Javier puts his hands up. "Ok, ok. We'll figure it out."

I get in, taking Javier's offered hand to help me up into the cab. I slide across the bench, looking down at the gear shift as Javier slides in next to me. I try to move my legs but there's nowhere for them to move to.

"Tuck them next to my leg." I look up at Javier, the closest I've been to him since that night.

"Are you s-sure?"

"Yeah. I won't bite." I swear he mumbles "Unless you want me to" under his breath but maybe I'm projecting.

We make it to the church on time. Well, early actually as Chucho wanted "a good seat." We get out of the truck and to my surprise, Javier offers me his arm again. I take it, using him to help me out of the cab, smoothing down my dress when I finally plant my feet on the ground. But he doesn't let go, doesn't drop my arm, letting me choose if I wanted to hold onto him or not. I link my arm further in his, noting the small smile he's fighting to contain on his face.

I am very glad I chose to hold onto him. Not just because his touch is electrifying my body, but because the ground in the dirt parking lot is very uneven, the last rainstorm having put in several large potholes and what feels like millions of smaller ones. Javier saved me from falling right in the mud more than a few times. When we finally make it to the pavement, he still doesn't drop my arm, looking down at me with raised eyebrows, silently asking me what I'd like to do.

"Oh no. I'm attached now. If you let me go, I'll fall on my butt I know it."

He chuckles and covers my hand with his large one, engulfing mine. "I got you, baby."

We say our hello's to everyone as we enter and I feel Javier tense next to me at the amount of attention he's starting to receive. Many people wanting to shake his hand and tell them how proud they are of him, that he's a hero. He smiles, although it doesn't reach his eyes, and thanks them, shaking their hands with his free one. This happens several times on our way to the pew Chucho wanted and after the third time, I place my free hand over his, giving it a light squeeze. I can feel him relax into me slightly as the man in front of us thanks him yet again. But as the next person approaches, I cut them off.

"Juan, it's so nice to see you, but we need to sit. These shoes weren't made for real feet," I chuckle and nod my head towards my feet. "I swear if Javier weren't escorting me I'd be taking these things off or fallen on my rear end by now."

"Oh! Yeah go sit. See you later, Javs!"

We finally make it to our row and Javier gestures for me to go ahead. I make my way in, sitting down as Javier slides in next to me.

"Hey, thanks." He speaks quietly so only I can hear him.

"Yeah of course. Anytime."

Shortly after, the ceremony starts and Javier places his arm across the pew behind me and I will myself to not blush and just pretend like I'm focusing on the sermon, the priest now saying something about love and devotion in marriage or..something. I have no clue as I feel Javier stretch a little and slide a little closer to me in the pew, our hips almost touching.

The reception was beautiful, music starting up a bit later while everyone was eating. We finish eating and Javier turns to me, mischief in his eyes.

"Dance with me?" His hand is outstretched towards me and I take it without hesitation.

"Do you know how?" I ask as he pulls me to my feet.

"Do you?"

"Fair question."

He escorts me onto the dance floor, placing his hand confidently on my hip, the other taking my hand. The music starts and he spins us around, our feet moving together to the beat. His eyes are on me and mine on his, the air between us igniting with something that we felt 6 years ago.

That realization jolts me back to the present and I move my head next to his, looking over his shoulder. I really need to tell him. I catch sight of a blonde woman, about Javier's age, giving me a really nasty look. But then the songs ends and Javier pulls back.

"Thirsty?"

"Yeah."

We head back to the table and sit, several more people coming up to shake Javier's hand and tell him how proud they were, that he's a hero, all of it. I can see that far away look in his eyes, like he's here but not here. His eyes lock on something across the room and he leans towards Chucho and me.

"I'll be right back."

I watch him walk across the room towards the blonde woman who had given me such a nasty look earlier.

"Who is that?" I lean over to Chucho, nodding towards them. He glances up before looking back down at his plate of food.

"Lorraine. His ex."

"Oh. They serious?"

He takes a bite of his food and chews. "They were. But that was maybe 10 years ago?"

"Hhm.. how serious?"

"Well, they were going to get married."

"Oh."

Chucho looks at me and leans in. "He left her though. The day of."

"The day of...the wedding??"

"Not one of his best moments. But he was young and scared. And stupid."

I look over at them, a man now walking up to them and putting his arm around Lorraine.

"Well she seems to have done alright."

"Yeah. Married some banker or real estate guy or something. Seems happy. Couple of kids."

"Should you have told me this?"

Chucho gestures around at the room. "Everyone here was there that day. They all know. It's not a secret."

I nod, turning to look back at them when I see Javier turn, his hand doing that thing where it opens and closes, his bottom lip worrying slightly into his teeth. He stops a few steps away from Lorraine and looks back, watching as she picks up her kids and animatedly talks to them. When he turns back around, his face is full of regret and want, but I don't know if it's about her or the kids, his almost family. He walks through the room and out the back door.

"I'll be right back."

I get up and cross the room, heading out the door Javier did. I look around and see him sitting on a bench under a tree several feet out from the reception room. He pulls out some gum from his pocket and stuffs it in his mouth, his jaw chewing furiously. I walk up to him and he looks up at me, his eyes sad.

"Can I sit?" I ask, gesturing to the space next to him on the bench. He nods at the space, leaning back to put his arm across the back of the bench behind me.

"Thank you," I say to him after several moments.

He looks at me. "For what?"

"For...everything. I know you must have had to do some things you aren't proud of in order to catch a very bad man. I can't imagine how that must weigh on you, make you feel like you don't deserve praise. But you worked so hard and they took that ending away from you which was, excuse my language, very fucked up of them and you didn't deserve that no matter what you did, and I just....thank you."

His eyes bore into mine, shifting emotions behind them. Anger, regret, fear, disappointment in himself, disbelief, but then something else. Something softer as he focuses on me. His hand comes up to cup my face and I lean into it, loving the feel of his calloused hands on my skin. He leans in towards me, his eyes shifting down to my lips, his breath fanning out over my face.

"Wait. I have to tell you something, Javier."

"Can you tell me after we make out?"

Can I? No. No, Vanessa.

"I really think I need to tell you first."

He pulls back and it looks like it costs him a ton of effort, just like it did me to tell him to stop. He puts his hand on his lap and watches me, waiting for me to continue.

"Do you remember when I told you that Alex's dad had important things to do? And you thought he was giving me a line?"

He nods. "Yeah..."

"What if...what if that were you?"

He furrows his eyebrows together, confused. "If what were me?"

"If you had gone off to Colombia or were going off and you found out you'd gotten some girl pregnant?"

"I would have come home or not gone."

"Yeah, but wouldn't you resent them just a little for robbing you of this opportunity?"

He scoffs. "They would've saved me a lot of shit."

"You know that now. But then?"

He thinks for a moment. "I don't know. I can't say I wouldn't have been disappointed."

"Don't you think your kid would pick up on that?"

"I...I don't know. I didn't consider....Vanessa?"

I swallow down the tears that are fighting to escape my body. "Yeah?"

"How old is Alex?"

I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes. "6."

It takes him a few moments, probably doing the math in his head. But then his eyes widen and he pulls his arm from around me, scooting back a little.

"6?"

"Yeah."

He shifts on the bench. "Is he...who's his dad?"

I can't help the one tear that falls from my eyes. "Y-you are."

He looks at me before abruptly standing, pacing back and forth, his hand on his hip and the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I'm his dad? Me? Are you sure?"

"I've only ever been with you."

He scoffs. "It's been 6 years, Vanessa. You haven't fucked anyone in 6 years?" He stops to look at me and sees the truth in my face.

"I've gone on some dates, but nothing ever happened."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I can only tell you the truth, I can't make you believe it."

He laughs angrily, finally stopping in front of me, glaring down at me.

"Why didn't you fucking tell me?"

"I-"

"Did you not think I deserved to know?"

"I-I-"

"I would have stayed for you! I-"

I stand up and he backs up a couple steps. "That's exactly why!"

"What?"

"You would've hated us if you stayed. You would've resented it. You just said you'd be disappointed. You don't think we wouldn't have picked up on that?"

"You didn't give me a fucking choice, Vanessa! Does he even know me?"

"He doesn't know who you are. I told him you were a superhero, fighting a really bad man in another country. And that you'd come back when he was caught."

Javier hesitates a moment. "You never gave me a choice! I lost all of that time. I lost...FUCK! I can't even look at you!" He turns and walks away, past the parking lot and into the street, heading towards town.

I call after him but it's no use. I collapse onto the bench, my head in my hands, finally letting the tears out that I'd been holding back for so long.

-------

The next morning, I set at the kitchen island, a mug of hot coffee clutched between my cold hands as I wait for Javier. I hear the sounds of someone moving down the stairs and I sit up straighter, but Chucho enters the kitchen. I feel my face fall as he looks at me.

"I know I'm not a looker but-"

"Sorry, Chucho. I was expecting.." my voice trails off and he cocks his head.

"Javi? He left."

I sit bolt upright. "Left?"

Chucho pours himself a mug of coffee. "Yeah for Cali. Didn't he tell you? He was going to tell you last night that he was heading back. It was sort of a secret but I told him you'd probably notice if you were no longer sharing a bathroom."

I feel the blood drain from my face. "He's gone?"

Chucho turns, mug in hand and scans my face. "Yeah. I thought he told you? When neither of you returned to the reception, I assumed...well, I thought he'd tell you before he..."

Tears fall wet and hard from my already puffy face. Chucho looks alarmed but sets his mug down and pulls me to him, letting me soak his shirt as he makes calming sounds at me.

"I told him, Chucho. I told him about Alex," My speech is muffled but he hears it all the same.

"What happened?"

I tell him the entire conversation, how Javier just stormed off and how I expected to see him this morning, to apologize and tell him he doesn't have to be involved, that I can move out to make it easier. Chucho waves me off with that last one. "I would never make you move out. Javi doesn't cook nearly as good as you."

I give him a small smile, my shoulders still shaking from sobbing.

"Listen, Vanessa. I won't give you a lecture. You know my opnion and it's no use retelling you. But he knows now. Javier tends to run from things."

"So we're his latest Lorraine?"

Chucho cocks his head, thinking. "I doubt that very much. You're not Lorraine. He looks at you differently."

"Looked. I doubt he'll even want to see me again."

"Mm...let's just give him space, ok?"

"But what if he's down there another 6 years?"

"Something tells me it won't take him that long to think about things."

-------

Javier

It had been a month since Vanessa told him he has a kid. That he has a 6 year old son he knew nothing about, knew nothing about him. Except that he's a hero. Which is a lie.

The Cali Cartel had another 5 months before they would be "turning themselves in", which was a big joke. He had to catch them before the time was up so they could face actual justice and not this fake, bureaucratic bullshit.

He's tried to resort back to his old ways of dealing, burying himself in a woman. But when he tried to, he couldn't bring himself to do anything, let alone sleep with them. It was everything he could do to not pick up a cigarette, but his patience was wearing thin.

He tried not to think about Vanessa and her confession. But when the work day was over, and he went back to his penthouse the government provided, his brain would play that conversation over and over in his head. At first, he continued to remain livid, that she had denied him the choice of knowing his family, being with his kid. But then his dad's words echoed in his mind, the call coming the day he landed in Cali.

"That girl has been through hell, Javi. Don't be the asshole you claimed you wouldn't be."

"She didn't tell me I had a kid, dad. A kid! Who does that?"

"She was only thinking about you! This whole time, she was worried about your wellbeing. She didn't want you distracted or resentful, even if it cost her everything."

"What did it cost her?"

"Her parents! Her family, friends, her church. Ours welcomed her with open arms only because I was there to vouch for her. She was shunned from her entire life and still only worried about you. Don't be such a stubborn asshole."

He thought about Vanessa, so young and pregnant, trying to figure out how to tell her strict parents she was expecting despite not being married. Them kicking her out, closing her off from all of her friends and family, anyone who would support her. Her finding the strength and will to drive all the way back to Loredo to try and find him and discovering he would be away for an indefinite amount of time. What would he do in that situation? Run away from it, probably. Which she didn't have the option of doing.

He takes a swig of his drink, the ice cubes clunking against his top lip. He wants to meet his kid, Alex. Wants to tell him that the bad guy was caught and that he's back. Would he be back? It's probably good Alex doesn't know who he is, in case something happens to him here. But if he gets to go home, he knows he wants to be in his life.

What about Vanessa? Will she let him in their lives? Javier is pretty sure she will, even with the way he left. But what about her? If he's honest with himself, truly honest, when he looks past the anger, he sees her big eyes, the freckles on her cheeks, the sass she gives him in her quiet manner. And he thinks, no. He knows. He knows he loves her. He thinks she loves him. If she didn't, surely she would've told him long ago, not caring about his well being. But she had been so adamant about not telling him, wanting him to be safe.

He crosses his arms, pinching the bridge of his nose. Fuck, what was he doing? Granted he signed up to go back to Cali when they called him in, assuming that if he didn't they would throw him in prison. But honestly, he was ready to come back and actually be here when they get the bad guys. But then Vanessa came back into his life and now a kid.

Fuck, he's an idiot.

-------

Vanessa

6 months. It had been 6 months since Javier stormed out and ran away to Cali. Ok, run away was harsh as he went there for work, agreeing to it long before he knew I was here. But he hadn't called and I took that as a sign, no matter how many times Chucho said it doesn't mean anything because he doesn't call him either. He gets too caught up in his work.

It's the start of summer, the windows are open to get a cross breeze coming through the house. I do miss the ac back home, but I'll take Chucho's home over the one I grew up in any day, heat or no.

Alex got a new book and I hadn't seen him for a couple hours as he's spent them in his room, devouring the latest in his series. He did come out once, nose buried in the book, to ask me for a snack.

I finish washing his cup, setting it on the rack to dry. I stare out the little window over the sink, watching Chucho putter about between the barn and the shed, thinking about the animals and how hot it's going to get out there. I know they're used to it, but still. I'' have to get some extra ice trays at the store so I can throw some more in their water troughs. Chucho says that's why they all like me so much.

Suddenly, I hear heavy steps on the wood floor behind me, much heavier than Alex's. I spin, my hand gripping the cast iron pan that was sitting there. But when I fully turn, I nearly drop the pan.

"Javier, I-"

"Sshh. I'm sorry."

"What?"

He takes a few steps towards me. "I never should have just left. I at least should've told you about Cali."

"No. I'm sorry. I should've told-"

He's only a couple steps from me now. "No, it's ok. I understand. You were thinking about your family. About how it would affect even me. you did what you had to do."

This was not what I expected. He reaches for the pan, still clutched in my hand. He takes it and sets it on the counter behind me, leaning close to me. He looks down at me, his hand coming up to cup my cheek and I inhale sharply at the sensation.

"You're so brave and I'm a fucking idiot."

"You have every right-"

He pulls me to him, gently pressing his lips to mine, giving me time and space to stop him. But what he doesn't know is his touch has sent me spiraling, spinning away into the sky. And when his tongue slides into my mouth, my body trembles slightly, my hand coming up to mindlessly grab onto his arm. But then he pulls back, staring into my eyes.

"I'm in love with you."

My stomach lurches, a thousand butterflies being released in my body at his words. Love? He loves me? I never thought I'd hear those words from anyone, let alone the man I've loved since I was 19. The reason none of my dates every worked out.

"And it's ok if you don't-"

"I love you too."

He smiles, a real smile that lights up even his eyes, both of his hands now cupping my face. "Really?"

"Why do you think none of those dates ever worked out? It was always you, Javi."

He kisses me more passionately now, his hand leaving my face to grip my hip, pulling me against him. I feel him through his tight jeans, pressing into me and I groan a little in his mouth.

"Fuck, you're so intoxicating. It was killing me not to kiss you."

"Mmm." Is all I can manage to say. But then I remember we're not alone, not this time.

"Do you want to meet him?"

Javier pulls his face back from mine. "He's here?"

I nod. "Yeah. Reading, upstairs."

He shifts, tugging on his pants. "Hell yeah I want to meet him. But uh, give me a sec?"

I glance down and chuckle. "Maybe I can help you with that later?"

He groans. "You aren't helping any now."

He turns and walks out the back door and I see him say hi to his dad, embracing him. Chucho watches him for a moment and then a smile appears and he claps him on the shoulder. I can only assume he's telling him he's going to meet Alex. Javier comes back inside, taking a deep breath.

"Ok, I think I'm ready."

"Alex! Can you come downstairs for a minute?"

Small feet patter across the floor upstairs and make their way down, Alex appearing in the kitchen a moment later, his book still propped open in his hand.

"Mom, I was at a really good part!"

"Alex, I have someone I want you to meet."

"Can it wait?"

I kneel down to get on his level, his eyes, so like Javier's, staring back at me, sensing the seriousness.

"Alex, meet your dad, Javier."

Slowly he turns, looking up at Javier who waves at him awkwardly. "Hey, kiddo. I uh, got the bad guy. I'm sorry it took me so long."

Alex continues to stare at him for a moment. Then he throws his precious book to the floor, running full out towards Javier, who throws his arms out at the last minute as Alex leaps into them, nearly knocking him over.

"Dad? It's really you?"

"It really is."

Alex clutches onto him, tears in both of their eyes. "I always dreamed of meeting you! This is the best day of my life!"

Javier hugs him tight, fighting back the tears that are quickly gathering in his eyes. "This is the best day of my life too, son."

-------

2 years later...

I load up the old tractor with a couple of picnic baskets, 4 large thermos full of homemade lemonade next to them. I close the back and carefully hop up, driving slowly across the property, a smile on my face. After a while, I pull up to the 3 men in my life: Chucho trying to carry wood by himself, Javi yelling at him as he runs to help him, and Alex, hammering away at a spare piece of wood. They were at the back end of the property repairing a downed section of fence. Javier sees me pull up and he rushes over, offering me his hand to help me down.

"I wish you hadn't driven this thing."

"Well if I walked, it would've been dinner by the time I brought your lunch."

"Mom! Watch me!" Alex starts hammering on a piece of wood Chucho had laid in the ground, Javier moving to help him pound it in further.

"My strong man!"

"Son, gather up the tools and put them in the box. We're taking a break for lunch."

Alex starts to look around for the tools as Javier turns back to me. He wraps his arm around me and leans in to kiss me, sliding his tongue over my bottom lip.

"Now now none of that. That made this happen," I rest my hand on my enlarged belly as Javier leans down, planting a kiss to my stomach before standing back up. He leans close to my ear.

"I plan on putting as many kids in you as you'll let me."

I slap his chest, but the thought warms me. "Let's just see how these 2 go first, yeah?"

He smiles at me, kissing me again before lifting Alex into the back of the trailer, helping me to set up the picnic lunches I had made for all of them. As we stare out at the river, a boat comes through, obviously carrying illegal items, most likely drugs. Javier stiffens, but then looks around at us.

"I'm done. I've done all I can. Now I just want to spend my life with my family."

-------

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk

#screamblog #javi x oc #javier pena x oc #narcos #javier peña

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i-am-borgia · 3 years ago

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the look on Alfonso's face will never not be funny

Y'all the System keeps messing my tags all the way up and I'm not about to shorten them so here they are, coherent for once:

So, I've been critical in the past of Lucrezia's reasons for turning to Cesare *physically*, because every time she does so her trigger is being rejected by Alfonso in one way or another. Now, I will admit that seducing one's brother is never a mundane or average reaction when rejected, but social convention aside, this specific reaction bothers me because it seems to showcase Lucrezia's low self-esteem and her love/trust issues. Obviously she and Cesare both suffer from this to some measure, partly because they've been low-key in love with each other their whole lives (sorry Neil), but to make that the thing that pushed Lucrezia over the edge seems like Red Flags Class 101. But rewatching this scene gave me a slightly different perspective that I wanted to throw out there in a bunch of messy and unasked-for tags:

I know that Lucrezia was on a campaign to woe Alfonso into sleeping with her (which couldn't possibly have anything to do with her nascent suspicion that Cesare killed Juan for her, which I do believe got the incestuous mess of season 3 rolling officially), but I don't think that explains her behaviour in this scene. The air is frigid until she mentions Cesare - ostensibly trying to warn Alfonso that Cesare can act like a psychopath when anyone tries to have a discussion with him about Lucrezia, but in reality she gets mentally side-tracked when she starts talking about Cesare's passions and how they're so intense when it comes to his "family". Immediately after she gets all touchy and affectionate towards Alfonso, kissing him etc., when Alfonso clearly looks turned off. He gives her the most awkward laugh in the universite and then randomly leaves (even though he was hardly in danger of losing his virginity, I mean, come on). Lucrezia stares off into space with this discontented but determined expression - and THAT is when she thinks about the conversation and realizes she knows darn well how intense Cesare's passions are towards her. She pays him a visit not long after, and can't go five minutes before making a suggestive remark and basically rubbing up against him. Cesare just happens to be feeling his oats because he's trying on armour, I suppose, and "chastily" kisses her (in the exact same way Lucrezia kisses Alfonso) and things start falling into place for Lucrezia. As some sort of final test, she invites Ces to her room, and the damage is officially done.

Now, looking at it this way, her decision to go to Cesare's room during the wedding or her decision to receive him naked are less about her insecurity invoked by Alfonso's rejection of her, but rather his rejection and the problem with her child (let's keep in mind that Cesare failed to fix that for her and yet she pulled more to him than to Alfonso) seemed to have caused her to feel more secure about the nature of her bond with Cesare - so even though there's a lot of insecurity in her, low self-esteem etc., opting to go to Cesare was her solution for the problem, finding that missing piece of the puzzle. If Cesare, who did not have this same "awakening", had not rejected her time and again after the wedding, I doubt she would have suffered so much from their relationship. She admits to it, really: she keeps searching Cesare out and never tries to pretend that her love for him is planotic. So my closing argument for today, Your Honour (lol), is that that notion originated more or less in this scene.

I'm also starting to see why my tags didn't fit.

Have a lovely weekend everyone!

#the Borgias #cesare x lucrezia #Lucrezia Borgia #cesare borgia #I think this is the longest explanation I've ever given for a tacky gifset but I like to think it's all about the spirit #hope you enjoy it #and if u don't #or if ur wondering if I have brothers (someone asked me that once hahaha go ask Neil Jordan or François Arnaud or Holliday Grainger #and let the rest of us pour our morally void hearts into the most impossible of ships)#anyway if u don't #actually I forgot what I was going to type #if u don't then that's okay too haha #bc just Borgiacest

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amjustagirl · 4 years ago

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CHAPTER 2 - FALLEN

Fic Summary:

The sky Oikawa Tooru’s heart seeks is a world away from the earth yours is buried in. You are a fool to trust him with your heart anyway.

Where Oikawa Tooru tries to recapture your heart.

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x fem! reader

Genre / Wordcount : Angst (7k words), cameo from MSBY 4

Warnings: One non-explicit bedroom scene.

Masterlist link here!

Tag list link here!

You catch sight of Oikawa Tooru as you bustle through the hospital’s sliding doors, your usual cup of coffee in your hand that you buy on the way to work. He’s seated in the waiting area next to a middle aged man you guess must be his manager, from the way he jumps to his feet immediately to act as a human shield as you call out breathlessly -

“T - Oikawa? What are you doing here?”

Tooru’s head swivels around to meet your gaze, and you’re shocked by the lifelessness in his eyes until you glance at the bandages wrapped around his swollen knee.

Oh.

You try not to stare, but you do so anyway. The sight of your ex-boyfriend makes you feel as if you’re seeing a ghost, a specter from some past life. You last saw him when he was twenty one, young and proud, wax wings fully spread, a speck in the skies. What a difference five years makes. His shoulders are still broad, and the tilt of his jaw is still proud, but the light in his eyes has faded to darkness, and the pallor of his skin suggests far too much time spent away from the sun.

Icarus, Icarus. Your hubris has led you to such heights, but look how far you’ve fallen.

It’s surprising there’s no news of his injury, considering he’s one third of Japan’s trifecta of setters in the volleyball scene’s monster generation. With the Olympics rapidly approaching with just over a year to go, an injury must be devastating, especially to Oikawa Tooru, with dreams of Olympic greatness and victory on his native shores.

A nurse materialises to usher Oikawa away for surgery before he can respond to the pity in your gaze. You look around. He’s alone, save for his manager. No one deserves to be wake up alone after surgery, so you call after him -

“I’ll check in on you after you’re done! Gambatte!”

He responds with a thumbs up and a weak smile.

You flip through his medical files once you get the chance.

Oikawa Tooru, twenty six. Pro-volleyball player for EJP Raijin previously, currently playing in the Argentinian league. Narrowly missed out on making the cut for the previous Olympics, but went on to represent Japan in the last three World Cups, alternating with Miya Atsumu and Kageyama Tobio. Obviously hoping for another shot at the Olympics, but that’s looking bleak from what you’re gleaning from his medical records.

His right knee has always bothered him, even during his high school days. Now, a decade later, it looks like he’s managed to tear his tendon to shreds.

Volleyball is a cruel, demanding mistress, especially for one not born a genius.

The surgery to repair a torn knee ligament is delicate work, requiring an experienced surgeon, and the road to recovery requires extensive physiotherapy. It’s no wonder he’s resorted to the modern Tokyo hospital you work in rather than returning to his native Sendai to recuperate. The downside of doing so though, is that he’d have to recover alone.

You wrinkle your nose. He may be your ex-boyfriend, but he doesn’t deserve that.

The sun is setting when you finally find the time to slip into his room.

As expected, he’s still asleep. The anesthetic will take some time to wear off. From the looks of the surgeon’s notes, the surgery was a success - though you know from the nature and extent of the injury that his road to recovery will be long and winding.

So you seat yourself in the visitor’s chair with a hot cup of tea and an onigiri to stave off your hunger at not finding time for a break any earlier. You had an awful day at work today, two of your patients puked on you, another tried to fight you when you drew his blood, and the senior registrar in the ward assigned you a mountain of paperwork that you only just managed to complete, so you give in to sleep yourself as exhaustion settles into your bones.

“Princess?”

You snap awake at the familiar nickname, ignoring the flush working its way up the back of your neck as you leap to his bedside to check his vitals, only relaxing when you’re satisfied everything’s fine.

“You’re just waking up after a surgery, Oikawa”. When his forehead crinkles in confusion at the sound of his surname, you correct yourself. “I mean - Tooru”. The corners of his cracked lips tilt up in satisfaction.

“Will you stay with me?” Tooru murmurs, eyelids beginning to droop again.

You smile fondly despite yourself. “Do you want me to?” you ask.

He manages to pout even as he’s falling back asleep. “I asked, didn’t I?”

You smooth his hair from his forehead, slotting your hand into his. “Fine, fine. Go to bed, sleeping beauty”.

He huffs an amused breath from his nose before he closes his eyes, contented. Trust Tooru to be shameless enough to cling on to his ex-girlfriend without a shred of awkwardness. You end up staying in his room for hours, watching him sleep.

The heart that you’ve locked away behind bars of bone and steel twitches, just once.

You frown when the nurse catches your sleeve. “A patient’s looking for you” she says, just as you’re about to go off on a short break.

“Who?” you reply, wondering whether it’s Sato-san who vomited this morning, or Imai-san whose blood pressure niggles at your mind. You do not expect the nurse to flush pink as she replies - “Oikawa-san”, describing the sweet young man with lovely brown eyes and such a charming voice.

You slip back into his room when your shift ends. You expect to see a shadow of a man with broken wings, and you do catch a fleeting glimpse of Tooru staring wistfully out of the window, face tilted towards the sun before he turns to you with a wide smile and a pleased - “you came!”

This is the Oikawa Tooru you are accustomed to dealing with. “Stop flirting with the nurses”, you tell him briskly, bustling over to look at his files. “They have jobs to do, don’t use them to carry messages to me.”

“But I’m boredddd.”

“I’m sure you have volleyball videos to watch.”

“I watched them all day today. ‘Sides, I watched all the matches on today already, twice – and I have plenty of time to watch them a third time. I have plenty of time to catch up with you, I haven’t seen you in so long!”

Five years since you broke up to be exact, but you sidestep that fact neatly, pouring over his medical file instead. His doctors’ notes indicate his recovery is promising. He brightens up when you tell him so, playfully complaining that hospital food is shit in a thinly veiled attempt to steal your food, a habit he’s clearly not outgrown. But you’re not all that hungry anyway, so you split your pork bun in half and hand it to him, dropping into the visitor’s chair.

“So how’re you feeling?”

“Like shit. My knee hurts so muchhhh.”

You shrug, careless. “That’s pretty expected, to be honest.”

“Hmph. I thought they’d have taught you some bedside manners in medical school”, he snipes, though the effect is rather lost when his cheeks are comically round and full of food.

You laugh, the stress from your day lifting from your shoulders.

“I seem to forget them when it’s you.”

“So mean”, he pouts, hiding the familiar gleam in his eye that appears whenever he’s trying to analyse his opponents, take them apart. “As punishment, tell me about yourself. What have you been up to these days?”

You decide to treat him like any old friend, giving him the condensed run down of your professional life, how you’ve graduated from medical school (with top marks I bet, he interjects), how you chose to stay in Tokyo instead of returning to Sendai (your parents must miss you he says, and you brush him off with an airy they have other children, they’ll survive), how you chose to work in this hospital because you’re considering a specialisation in Orthopedic surgery (because of your grandma, I bet, he says, and you choose not to correct that, using your silence as a lie).

He in turn tells you about the highlights of his career, how he’s spent a year at EJP Raijin before he was headhunted to the Argentinian league, how he spent four years overseas save for summers back in Japan to train with the national team, how he’s hopeful, even now, of recovering and fighting for his spot on the Olympic roster next year.

You already knew all of that from news alerts on your phone you never forced yourself to delete, diverting him instead with a question about life in Argentina, nodding as he reminisces about his apartment in San Juan where he gets to watch the sun set over the Andes mountains, the kitchen that he stuffed full of Japanese groceries like daishi and mirin and sake and miso in his first year there just so he has a tangible reminder of home.

You stop yourself from wondering whether he thinks about the little home he shared with you with such fondness. That time has passed.

His voice wavers as he spins you stories about his teammates - Matteo, whose family owns a vineyard and taught him to appreciate wine like a proper Argentinian, Miguel, who makes the best empanadas and gets roaring drunk every time they win a match, Gabriel, who takes him to his family’s home in the mountains every other weekend because his grandmother is convinced that a single young man without family in the city will starve if he’s left to his own devices.

It seems his wings were durable enough for him to soar across the oceans, his grit and determination the foundation of the new life he’s built, whole continents away.

“It’s funny how the world works”, you remark off hand. “I never expected to see you again.”

His eyes gleam again. “The universe seems to work in funny ways.”

You start spending breaks in his room, scarfing down your lunch and dinner while he talks your ear off about the horrible sitcoms or ridiculous game shows he’s watched today. You catch him watching a video of Kageyama’s serves and you’re amused when he practically hisses when you comment idly that his kouhai has certainly improved since his high school days.

You ignore his spluttered protests that service records aren’t everything and besides, his own spike serves have definitely won Japan a game or two last year until, with the air of a boy king, he commands you to sit next to him on the hospital bed so he can pull up a compilation of his serves and his best moments.

Years might have passed, but you’re still hopeless at refusing him. Besides, isn’t it better that you distract him from the sorry state of his knee? So you do as he says, ignoring the faint flutter of your traitorous heart as he leans into your side.

“See? I told you my spike serves are amazing?”

“Yes, yes. I already knew that. I watched so many of your practices in university, remember?”

He looks at you strangely. “Did you?” he asks, leaning his head on his hand, eyes boring into yours.

You think of evenings spent sitting on the bleachers, homework in your lap as you watch as the boy you love builds the strength in his wax wings in preparation for his eventual flight. “Yes”, you admit, sheets rustling as you shift away from him, avoiding his perplexed frown. “You were probably too focused on practice to notice.”

You already know you shouldn’t spend so much time in his room, but you’ve spent most of your life doing what you should instead of what you want to so just this once, you ignore rational thought in favour of sentiment.

After all, he’ll be discharged from hospital in a week, then you’ll never see him again.

Tooru promptly proves you wrong the day before he’s scheduled to be discharged.

“I need someone to help me move into my apartment.”

“Hire a mover”, you tell him. You don’t even look up from your notes.

“Already did”, he chirps, undaunted by your apparent disinterest. “But it’d be nice to have a friend who I know will be nice enough to help poor old crippled me put my stuff away.” Then he grins cheekily, “plus I checked with that pretty nurse – Yuna-san was it? Anyway, she told me you’re off tomorrow, so you might as well spend the day with me.”

There goes your excuse to wriggle out of having to spend your rare day off with your ex.

“I have a mountain of sleep debt to pay off”, you protest, but faced with wide brown eyes and an embarrassing wobble of his lip, you comply. Still, you manage to get the promise of a free dinner out of him, so you suppose it’ll do.

Tooru doesn’t have much to unpack, a couple of cardboard boxes of clothes and books, probably because most of his belongings are still in Argentina. He laughs and raises his hands in an attempt to placate you when you lift an eyebrow, first at the lack of kitchen equipment in his furnished apartment, second at the weights and volleyball he tries to smuggle in behind your back.

“You’re not supposed to exercise for at least a month or two”, you cluck your tongue, sighing with disapproval at the furtive look he casts at the volleyball sitting at the corner of his living room.

“I can set while sitting on a stool! Don’t scold me, my heart can’t bear it”. He throws a hand across his face, brow creased dramatically.

Icarus, Icarus. You’ve already fallen once. Will you seek out the sun again?

A string of familiarity loops into a knot over your heart. If you close your eyes and count to ten, you can imagine that you’re eighteen again, chiding the boy you love for practicing too hard. But you’re twenty six now, a full fledged adult who should know better than to dabble in sentiment again (especially when it comes to brown eyed boys who only dream of the sun), so you slash through the threads connecting you to him with a flash of your teeth, bury your beating heart deeper into the dungeon you’ve built years ago of white bone and solid steel.

“Do what you want, but your neighbours will hate you if you keep thumping that damn ball against the wall.” You say, simply, dismissively.

“No one could ever hate me”, he declares with bravado. “I’ll charm them all with my charm and good looks.”

“Ridiculous”, you huff, dumping the last of his clothing into the cupboard. “Where’s the dinner you promised? I want ramen and gyoza at least.”

“So demanding”, he lilts. “I’ll order in. Tonkatsu ramen with char siu, bamboo shoots, extra spring onions with gyoza on the side?”

Your heart struggles against its shackles. He still remembers your order.

“Yes”, you finally say. “You got that right.”

He grins at you cheekily, as if to say of course.

After you gulp down your ramen, devour your gyozas, you pack up, ready to leave. You have an early shift tomorrow, and you’re already dreaming about your soft bed whilst dreading the cup of coffee you’ll have to down tomorrow morning just to stay awake.

He catches your wrist, presses the spare key to the apartment into your hand. “Come back. I want to see you again”, he says, an order and not a plea.

You are about to make up an excuse, tell him anything but the truth that you suspect it’s bad for your heart to keep seeing him again.

“Please” - he adds with a tint of fragility to his voice.

“I’ll be back when I can”, you finally say.

“Tomorrow?” he looks up at you with hopeful eyes.

“We’ll see”, you pry your hand loose from his grasp, slip out the front door.

You stay away for two days, citing your work schedule as an excuse until he wears you down with a barrage of cutesy line stickers aimed at driving home how lonely he is and how much he misses your presence. You’re being dramatic as usual, you text him dryly, but you turn up anyway at his apartment on a Friday night, letting yourself in with an armful of reports and a bucket of oden.

“How’re you doing? Are you listening to your physiotherapist? Eating properly? Sleeping well?”

“You sound like my mother”, he grouses, rolling his wheelchair to the dining table.

You flick at his forehead, he slumps back in his wheelchair. “Stop bullying the cripple’, he wheezes through his chortle.

“You deserve it”, you retort. “Don’t run away from the question. How’re you feeling?”

“It still hurts”, he admits with a mock sniff. “It should stop hurting by nowwww.”

You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “That’s to be expected. Your sinews just got stitched together two weeks ago. Not sure why you’d expect any less.”

“Bah, rude. At least you didn’t say I told you so”, he grumbles, spooning oden into his mouth. “That would be insufferable.”

“Well, maybe you’ll listen to me now that I’m actually a doctor”, you inform him pertly, batting away memories of a teenage boy with hazel eyes shouting indignantly at you after practice in the Seijoh gym.

Tooru snorts. “I can’t believe my eighteen year old self was dumb enough to open my future self up to a jab like that”, he complains, chewing on a cabbage roll grumpily.

“We’re all dumb at eighteen”, you remark. “You’re no exception.”

“You were dumb enough to date me”, he teases with a mocking smile.

Your spoon slips from your hand momentarily. It’s the first time he’s alluded to your past relationship.

“I was, wasn’t I”, you say lightly, before turning the conversation to Tooru’s physiotherapy sessions.

You have no wish to delve back into the past, but you’re willing to be his friend since he seems to need one for now.

Tooru’s knee recovers enough for him to shift from his wheelchair to crutches, which he points at you playfully, mimicking a gun every time you pop by for a visit. He seems to plan his physiotherapy session around your schedule, just so he can wheedle you into paying him yet another visit when your shift at the hospital end, bribing you with a cup of coffee with a hint of chocolate from the café across the street that you’ve never found the time to visit.

“Thank you, kind sir”, you say, accepting the coffee with a laugh.

“You’re welcome, my lady”, he answers with a smirk, motioning you to follow him for yet another evening to be spent in his home sitting across him, red ink smeared on your hands as you mark up the reports in your lap.

His façade that he’s coping with his injury just fine slips every so often. You catch him more often than not watching compilation videos of Kageyama and Atsumu at the World Cup this year with a strained expression on his face, or resting his chin on the windowsill whilst staring wistfully at the birds in the sky.

He does not confide about his worries to you. You’re not sure you want him to.

But you can’t explain to yourself the impulse to purchase a bird feeder for his balcony, nor the glow-in-the-dark poster of the constellations that you cart into his bedroom until your heart has to scramble for equilibrium when he thanks you, his smile soft.

“In exchange for all the coffee you’ve bought me”, you reply, turning away to hide all evidence of your heart’s betrayal, the diffusion of blood in your cheeks.

A month passes. Then another.

The crutches get kept in the storeroom. A limp remains, but the degree which his knee can bend increases by the day. His mood improves even further, and you constantly find yourself swerving to avoid his affectionate gazes, his attempts at flirtation.

“You’re looking so pretty today!” he lilts, fitting his arm snugly into the crook of your elbow as you walk down the neon lit streets of Tokyo. He insisted on this outing, and in the custom of your rekindled friendship, managed to convince you to accompany him on your off day so he can get crepes from Harajuku notwithstanding the fact that it takes forty five minutes on the train and his knee still acts up from time to time.

“It’s my first time downtown in a month”, you tell him. “Of course I’m going to dress up.” You don’t tell him you spent far too long in front of your closet, tossing outfits on your bed until you found one that complements you just right.

He buys you trinkets, hair accessories that you’ll never wear, tries to win you ridiculous stuffed toys from the claw machine.

“You’re wasting money”, you scold, wiping the whipped cream from his mouth.

“It’s not a waste if it’s for you”, he tells you, with startling sincerity that you still doubt.

He doesn’t mean it, you tell yourself. It’s just Tooru being Tooru.

You refuse to admit what’s staring you in the face until you have to duck your head to avoid his attempt at pressing his lips to your cheek.

“Goodnight, Tooru”, you manage to say before you bolt off into the night. You check to make sure your heart is still under lock and key.

It is, but it beats resentfully. Tooru, it beats against its bars with frightening intensity. Tooru. Tooru.

You ignore it. You know what’s best for it.

You stay away from him for a fortnight, requesting for a change in your schedule without updating him, taking the other exit from the hospital so you don’t have to see him. You stay away until he manages to wear you down yet again, texting you the most ridiculous conspiracy theories about your absence from his life – you must be abducted by aliens, he texts you once, or your mother forced you to marry some stranger, I can break you out if you just say the word.

He has a guest, you hear another voice, deeper, filled with gravel and intensity, so different from Tooru’s lighter lilt. You do not mean to eavesdrop, but you don’t want to interrupt Tooru when he has a rare guest over, and there’s nowhere else for you wait save for the dusty front step, so you settle yourself in, pen poised to continue your work.

“What did the doctor say? When are you coming back for practice?”

“I’m doing good! The physiotherapist thinks I can try light exercise next week. If all goes well, I’ll be back to practice in a month.”

“Sounds promising.”

“I had a good medical team. And I’m actually resting properly!”

“Shittykawa. Stop sounding so proud about doing what’s necessary for your recovery.”

“Iwa-channnn, stop being mean to meeee!”

Ah, Iwaizumi, of course. You haven’t seen him in years, but you remember him from school, a stoic boy with a good heart. You wonder if he’s changed.

“Are you planning on heading back to Argentina?”

Tooru answers without hesitation. “Of course”, he says airily. “As long as they take me back.”

Your foolish heart shudders with disappointment. Of course. If you run your fingers down his spine, you’ll probably find blooms of wax attached to his very bone.

You are about to stand up and leave when Tooru speaks up again.

“But I’m going to enjoy my time in Japan while I’m back. Did I tell you I reconnected with my ex? She’s great, it feels like I never left.”

The firestorm of blood in your ears nearly drowns out Iwaizumi’s growled ‘piece of shit’ (he truly hasn’t changed after all), the clatter of glassware as Tooru protests that he’s not playing with your heart, he truly cares about you, his sullen silence when Iwaizumi demands what’s going to happen when he leaves Japan for Argentina, when he inevitably leaves you behind (yet again).

Of course.

You know his heart longs for the sky. There is no space for you.

You barely have time to react when the door swings open, Iwaizumi on the verge of storming out. You plaster a smile to your face that does not fool him, but you hang on to it nonetheless, cracks appearing only when he gives you a wide eyed look of sympathy that only pours oil onto the flaming war between your brain and your heart.

“It’s fine”, you say, and though he clearly does not believe you, he bows and leaves anyway.

Tooru stares at you, mouth open, stumbling over himself with apologies and demands for you to tell him what you’ve overheard, but you motion for him to just stop with your hand, wave aside his protest that he means what he said, he truly likes you.

Your heart screeches in delight, but your mind is firmly in the driver’s seat.

“Let’s just pretend I never heard you say that, and we can continue just as before.”

“As friends?” he says, twisting his lips as if the words taste sour in his mouth. He clutches at your shoulders.

“I want more. I want you.”

Your heart thrums in agreement, but you recall assembling the remains of your heart back into your chest whilst kneeling on the cold bathroom floor half a decade ago. The span of five years should have molded you to view your shared past with pragmatism, but your heart seems to have forgotten its lesson. You shake your head.

“There’s no way you truly want me. I don’t think you’ve only ever had space in your heart for anything but your goals.”

Your response emerges more bitter than you intend.

“That’s not true”, he weakly protests. “I care about you.”

Not enough, you refrain from telling him. “Let’s remain friends”, you do say, and he opens his mouth to object again, but at the hard look you give him, he slumps back with a defeated nod.

He tries to respect your decision, never complaining when you keep a careful arm’s length distance from him, though you can feel his heated gaze on you whenever he thinks you won’t notice, hear his quiet sighs whenever you shy away from any accidental touch. He droops when you turn down his invite for lunch with his family when they come down for a visit, citing work even though he knows you’re off for the day.

Still, it’s manageable and he says he needs you, so you return for visits, at least twice weekly, offering encouraging smiles and friendly words when he returns first to light exercise, then to rehabilitative practice a month later, just as he predicted.

He carves out time for dinners with you, taking care to ask about your day, preferring to spin you stories about the pigeons and doves and crows crowding his balcony rather than talking about volleyball or his practice. He insists on escorting you to his apartment after work when you allow him to, offering you his arm with a soft smile that disarms you, dissolves any resistance.

It’s an uneasy equilibrium, but it’ll suffice.

The careful balance you’ve maintained in the space between you and Tooru is shattered when you find you’re not the only one who’s decided to pay him a surprise visit on a Friday night.

“Tooru, ya didn’t say ya got yerself a pretty girl during yer break”, a man with bleach blonde hair wolf whistles appreciatively when you step into the apartment.

“I’m just a friend”, you reply confusedly before Tooru’s shout “Shove off, Miya” confirms that one Miya Atsumu has decided to invade Tooru’s apartment. Well, him and what seems like half the MSBY team, with Hinata Shoyo, Bokuto Koutaro and Sakusa Kiyoomi squashed uncomfortably on Tooru’s tiny sofa, long legs stretched across the living room.

It turns out the MSBY team just finished a game in Tokyo, and Hinata dragged his teammates to visit Tooru in a wholesome bid to cheer him up. You try to excuse yourself after exchanging nods with Sakusa (he hasn’t changed much from his university days) when Miya Atsumu blocks your retreat with a drawled invite for Izakaya and the promise of karaoke after.

Tooru mouths playfully at you don’t leave me alone with these clowns (you’re tempted to point out that he’s very much one himself), and before you can even blink, you find yourself dragged along to the nearest Izakaya, impressed by the amount of food each man polishes off - skewers of chicken hearts and cartilage, bowls of potato salad and rice with braised pork belly, listening to stories of their exploits on the national team together, stumbling into the karaoke bar tipsy from the beers that Miya Atsumu pressed into your hand, head heavy enough to allow him to wind an arm around your waist.

“She’s too old for you, ‘Tsumu-kun”, Tooru trills, inserting himself in between you and Atsumu, mouth taut with aggravation.

“I’m not old, just a year older”, you roll your eyes, as the blonde setter backs away, lips turned up in amusement. Tooru is not placated, muttering how the younger setter is a douche and a sleeze bag as he drapes his jacket over you like a blanket. You nestle against his side, head on his shoulder as his arm rests protectively around you.

Atsumu watches this with raised eyebrows, whistling slowly, opening his mouth to remark that he’s never seen Oikawa so smitten before when Hinata interrupts with a chirped “‘Tsum-Tsum, join me!”, handing him a microphone while bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Karaoke is the most fun you’ve had in ages. Hinata and Bokuto and Atsumu sing all their favourite anime theme songs with gusto - Atsumu even gets misty eyed when he croons Sparkle by Radwimps, reddening when everyone teases him for being a romantic sap, Bokuto shaking his hips to Western pop hits, Hinata showing off his Spanish skills. Sakusa refuses to even touch the microphone but you suppose it’s a win that he’s even in the karaoke booth with all of you.

Tooru slaps away Atsumu’s attempts at handing you any further alcohol, forcing you to down cups of water until you are no longer glassy eyed, but still tipsy enough to agree to sing ridiculous K-On songs with Hintata and Bokuto, not stopping even when Tooru whips out his phone to video the entire performance with an indulgent smile.

“Delete it!” you squeal, losing your balance when you try swiping the phone out of his hands, tripping into his lap instead.

“In your dreams, princess”, Tooru chuckles, his arms snaking around you like a vise.

“Anndd that’s our cue to call it a night”, Atsumu quips, herding Hinata and Bokuto out onto the street, Sakusa heaving an audible sigh of relief. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kids!” he calls over his shoulder, throwing you a wink.

“I’m technically his senpai, cheeky brat”, Tooru mutters, the irritation in his voice washing away as you giggle. “C’mon, it’s too late for you to get home and my place is nearer to the hospital so you might as well stay over tonight. You can take the bed, I’ll take the sofa.”

You shake your head, arguing that you couldn’t possibly turn an invalid like him out of his bed but he huffs at the insinuation that he’s anything but well, his knee almost whole again. You give in after he convinces you that it’d be more inconvenient for him to escort you all the way to your own home rather than put you up for the night, and you allow him to loop his arm around yours and lead you back to his apartment.

It’s not the first time you’ve been in his apartment this late, not by a long shot, but it is the first time you’re over with the intention of staying over. The t-shirt you borrow from Tooru hangs off your frame, the scent of the fabric softener Tooru uses is familiar. You would’ve preferred being tipsier to dull your senses, but alcohol would only impair your logic, allow your heart to prevail, so you try to quell the thrumming of your blood in your veins by curling up on a seat by the window with a cup of tea when Tooru emerges from his shower.

“Ready for bed?” he asks, towelling off his hair, frowning when you shake your head. “It’s late, you have work tomorrow, even if it’s the afternoon shift.”

“It’s fine”, you say without turning your head to face him. “Go to bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m insulted, princess. What kind of a man d’you think I am to make his guest sleep on the couch? ”

It’s less dangerous to ignore him, so you pay him no mind, choosing instead to lean your chin in your hand and look up towards the night sky. It soothes you, the moon an old friend, reminding of five years’ worth of quiet nights spent in your own flat, filtering your younger self into adulthood.

“What’re you looking at?” He takes a step forward, kneels down next to you.

“The moon and the stars”, you say dreamily. “They’re pretty tonight.”

A myriad of weather conditions must coincide to allow the stars to even be visible in the polluted Tokyo night sky, but tonight of all nights fate intervenes, the stars align. The sky is cloudless, the full moon hangs heavy, the stars shimmer and dance.

“Are they?” Tooru whispers. “I haven’t noticed.”

You finally turn to look at him. “Why’re you staring at me?”

The unconscious echo of your past - a boy and a girl, falling in love under the same night sky makes his mouth twist wistfully, eyes faded gold.

“Because you are my sun, my moon and my stars. I love you better than anything in the sky.”

Your mouth falls open, your heart suddenly roaring, pounding against its restraints.

“You can’t mean that”, you whisper. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I do”, he says, with heartbreaking sincerity. “And I always will.”

Nostalgia, aided by the lingering alcohol in your veins opens the gate to your foolish heart. You want to pretend that you are eighteen again, without a care in the world, indulging in the warmth of his hand on the small of your back, the caress of his breath on your cheek. Your lips beckon his, swallowing the catch of his breath when your hands slide under his shirt.

“Are you sure about this?” His eyes are hungry, almost ravenous, but his hands still hover at the hem of your top.

“Yes”, you murmur, pressing open mouthed kisses to the column of his neck. “Please, Tooru - please.”

He carries you into the bedroom, undresses you with shaking hands, chanting your name with reverence, almost a prayer. His eyes darken with desperation and need, unwilling to allow himself any release until you fall apart boneless, caged in his arms.

“Stay with me”, he murmurs, after you’ve both cleaned up a second time, tugging you into bed.

It’s laughable. Five years on, Oikawa Tooru still has the power to make your mind lose all reason (however temporarily). With a single heated look, he commands your heart to break willingly in his hands. How could you not have learnt your lesson? The conversation between him and Iwaizumi merely confirms what you’ve known all this while.

(The sky his heart seeks is a world away from the earth yours is buried in)

Even now, you can see the glimmer of golden wax feathers budding along his spine, gleaming under the pale moonlight.

You lie under the covers until his breath evens out, then you stumble out of bed. You force your heart to relinquish the keys to its freedom, handing it back to logic and rationality, pulling on your clothing, folding your borrowed clothing aside.

Tooru mumbles your name, his hand outstretched towards you. “Come back”, he says in his sleep, fragility tinting the edges of his words.

Your fingers miss the doorknob by an inch. You dash your foolish hopes against the darkness of the room, put on your resolve like armour, leave your spare key on the kitchen counter.

Without looking back, you slip out into the night.

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lotho · 2 years ago

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Opinions For Pasion De Gavilanes 02

NO BUT I WILL FUCKING RANT ABOUT S2 ANOTHER DAY AND WHY I DROPPED IT BUT HERE I AM GIVING OFF MY OPINIONS FOR THIS LOVELY LOVELY NOVELA

Also spoilers

Oscar is not a fucking cheater.

I have herd complains on how he is a dick and such in the beginning, but for me he was a funny dick. He also gets really good development as the series goes on, he also loves Jimena like a fuck ton.

Even if he is greedy and money hungry he still clearly cares for the people in his life and is actually really grateful, like when he gave money too Leandro for his business and supported him.

THEN WHY DID THEY MAKE HIM CHEAT?!?!?!?!??! HE WOULD NEVER CHEAT, DID YOU NOT SEE THAT BOY WHEN HE WAS AWAY FROM JIMENA????? HE LOVES HER SO MUCH MORE THAN A ONE-NIGHT STAND. ALL THE REYEYS LOVE THEIR WIVES TO THE POINT THEY WOULD NEVER CHEAT ON THEM OR EVEN STARE AT ANOTHER WOMEN!!!!! THEIR LEGIT SO FUCKING LOYAL, UGH THIS PISSES ME OFF SO MUCH. DID THEY NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH HIS AND JIMENA’S CHARACTER??????

2. The Twins are pretty funny (02)

No reason I just think the twins are pretty funny. They're assholes and perhaps murders but I find them pretty entertaining. There spoiled kids for sure and sorta freaky/weird for having a threesome with the same girl. But I find they really funny and actually way better than Juan David’s character! Who in bye next one-

3. Juan David Is a pretty boring/bad character

Maybe I just simply do not like that he is just a cheap version of Juan Reyes, or maybe because HE IS FUCKING A MOM AND HER DAUGHTER. He is suppose to be the leader of the family, the oldest of the second generation of the Reyes, his role is sorta suppose to be mentoring his siblings and younger cousins while also growing alongside them. But he as much depth to him a slice cheese sandwich. They could have put him as being stressed for being the oldest, having to be like his father and be mature and shit. Oldest child syndrome or something idk I just really don’t fucking like his character I think its a waste.

4. Franco’s Absence(?)

Okay he is kidnapped or something, idk I didn’t go that far cause I felt like episodes started to get worst as it went on and that the actor was busy with his own shit but what I didn’t like was how the characters reacted to it. I feel like it is a trend were they see the worst in Franco due to misunderstandings but this one pisses me off.

The brother Reyes just accepted that he left the family???? In the beginning of the series ever since Libra died both Oscar and Juan are quite a bit protective of Franco, hell their really protective towards each other! The Reyes I know would not accept one of them being missing after all the shit they went through and having the many enemies they do. They also know he really loves Sarita, and probably his kids. But then they really accept his absence?!?!

Also when did he leave? His kids seem to know nothing about them.

Though the clips of him coming back and him and Sarita is really comforting and cute, got I hate how they treated this adorable couple.

5. Gabriela Is Done Dirty.

Like wtf, why is she still the worst? Where did the character development go!?!?!??!??!?! I hate that they made her into a villain again.

Tho I do like and hate how they still kept her as the same villain, how they kept she was sorta sexism towards her daughters in the beginning kept happening with Gaby. Her traditionalist ideals harming the people she suppose loves, but idk.

6. Andres’s Treatment as LGBTQ+ Character With His Love Interest

I just herd of the spoilers so take this from a grain of salt, so I am unsure if this is totally accurate or not.

So apparently Andres got with an older man and that is just a really fucking stupid trope in novelas I really hate. To make things interesting the young gay character has to be with an older man character? I hate that LGBTQ characters need some sorta of taboo instead of having a normal romance like the straight parings.

I do actually really like Andres tho, he is likable character and is like a passive but more confident Franco.

Leandro was one of my favorite characters in the original and though that even if his is the stereotype gay man, he was a great character all the round and was super funny. I think he is pretty decent rep for the time.

So I am sorta disappointed with the rep with Andres with his love interest, overall though he is alright. (Also for anyone still watching is Juan still homophobic? Like in the original he is canonically homophobic and Franco is more or less not with the Oscar scene but idk.

Also random but I love the scene so much It makes me laugh a lot.)

7. Family means nothing in 02.

The whole thing with the first season was about family, how your suppose to be together no matter what and support even with each other downfalls. The brother even after everything loved each other and care so much, the same goes with the sisters.

The second gen of Reyes fucking do not like each other. I saw the pictures of Gaby and Andres saying they don’t care for the twins, the twins fighting the older brother constantly, Juan David sorta looking like he thinks with more with his dick, so on so forth. The fights between the brother and sisters still had some sort of love towards them and they still protect each other. I feel no familiar connection towards these fuckers and I hate it. If these guys went poor like Juan, Oscar, Franco or deal with a force like Fernando like how the sisters did, I think they would have actually killed each other among themselves.

8. Villains suck.

I cannot actually name any of them currently but they are so not iconic like in the first season.

That is just a simple fact, enough said.

9. No good Ships

I hate the Juan David with Rosario I hate Juan David with Muriel (she could so MUCH better)

I hate Andres with the older dude.

Gaby with her boyfriend is eh, the dude is just not interesting.

Norma and Juan are still bland as ever.

Oscar would NEVER CHEAT ON JIMENA.

THEY DEPRIVED US OF SARAIT AND FRANCO AND I CANNOT FORGIVE THEM FOR THAT

The friendship with Andres and Muriel is pretty good I guess.

(Glad they stopped the Juan David love triangle with Andres tho)

10. The Plot Is just overall a mess and Where are the other characters?

The plot lines in the original were connected, in this one it is just all over the place.

WHO CHEATED ON WHO? WHO GOT KIDNAPPED? WHO IS THIS CREEP?

And I know that some actors couldn't come on the show again but fuck man, I miss Eva. I also thought their uncle would stay in contact at least? What about Ruth and Benito? The two brothers and their family who own the grocery store?What about my queen pepita? I know they brought back Panchita with a different actress but they just completely butchered her character, what ever happened to her being the voice of reason?

Rip Sebastian Boscán, his life was taken away too soon.

#pasion de gavilanes 2 #pasion de gavilanes

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elivanah-writes · 4 years ago

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Wired

pairing: Juice Ortiz x reader

sum: coming back home after a long time away brings it’s challenges, specially if you’re the daughter of Gemma and Clay. what if she sees someone she tought she’d never see again?

warnings: fluff, implied smut and a small bit of angst

A/n: this was actually a requested by someon on my main blog @evanstanwrites but sadly I can’t remember who did and I can’t find the original message with the request.

It felt amazing to y/n to finally pass the sign that stated “Welcome to charming”, for her it was more of a welcome home. y/n had previously studied and worked a few years in New York, at first she was happy to get away from home, away from the always busy place full of bikers. Then she met a certain brown eyed Puerto Rican from Queens, they fell in love, hard and fast. Time spent together was heavenly and she couldn’t get enough of him, he even promised her to marry her one day. God, they were young and stupid. They were together for most of her college time but then one day a few weeks before she graduated she got a panicked phone call from her boyfriend, he’d done something very stupid and now people were after him. He told her he’d ran but couldn’t take her with him. So they broke up, still loving each other. She could have gone home after she graduated, it would have been easy to just get in that car with her mom but she didn’t want to face everyone and their questions. She had told her mom she was seeing someone, that they’d get married someday and her mom in time told everyone back home. It was already hard enough how she had to deal with the phone call from her father when he had heard, man was he pissed that his little girl found a guy he didn’t approve of beforehand. Her father finally made peace with it as long as the guy treated her right. How the hell was she gonna face him after her heart was broken, he’d look for him and kill him himself.

So instead of going home, she found herself a job that paid pretty well and tried to build herself a new life, after some time her father did found out that she and her guy broke up. Her new life only lasted for a few years tho. She kept worrying, thinking back to her brown eyed man, she hadn’t heard from him anymore and she felt so lonely in New York. So when she got the chance to be transferred to a place of choice she took that chance with both hands and went home. She didn’t tell anyone she was going back home so nobody was expecting her and no welcome back party would be waiting for her, She hated surprise parties but she loved to surprise people.

It wasn’t long before she reached the long driveway of the Teller-Morrow garage, as she drove up the driveway and parked her car. A few guys were hanging around on the benches in front of the clubhouse, only a few of their faces seemed familiar to her others were completely new to her. One of the familiar faces was Jax Teller, her half brother. Jax sat on the bench smoking a cigarette talking to who she remembered as Chibs and Tig and a few new faces. None of the guys had seemed to notice her yet, maybe they just thought she was just another customer of the garage and didn’t paid mind to her. But even if they did saw her she wasn’t so sure they’d even recognize her, over the last few years she changed so much. She didn’t look like that little cute girl that left this place to go to college, now she was a fully grown up woman and not so little anymore. It was only when she got out of her car and shut her door that the group of men looked up to her and just like she thought it seemed like they didn’t know who she was. Jax did hold a look of recognition in his eyes but also seemed to be unsure.

She just winked at the group of men with a small smirk and turned her back to them and started to walk in the direction of the small office of Teller-Morrow just as she heard one of the guys whistle at her. Not even a second later she could hear the sound of a punch being thrown, a curse, and then the voice of Jax calling out to her.

“Y/N!”

So he finally did recognize her, his baby sister. With a wide smile, she turned back around seeing Jax throwing away his cigarette and running at her.

“Hey Jax,”

And then next thing she knew she was wrapped up in Jax’s arms as he lifted her into the air just like he’d always do with her back in the day when they were younger.

“What are you doing here, I thought you’d made a new life back in New York?” Jax asked when he placed her back on her feet.

“Nice to know I’m welcome back here,” she joked

“This is your home y/n/n, you’re always welcome here. We just weren’t expecting you. You’re here on holiday?” he chuckled

It seemed that their reunion had drawn quite the attention, as she saw people spill out of the clubhouse.

“That’s the point of a surprise brother, and no I’m not here on a holiday”

She just finished talking when she heard the voice of her mother calling for her and not a minute later she appeared next to Jax together with my father at her side.

“Babygirl, my babygirl is home.”

And jet again I was wrapped up in a pair of arms.

“Hey mama, hey daddy,” I said once she released me from her hold and I could give my father a hug too.

“Hi princess, you’re home for good?” was the first thing that left Clay Morrow’s lips as he held his daughter close.

“Yes daddy, I’m here to stay”

It didn’t take long before they had lead her inside the clubhouse and started up an impromptu welcome home party. For most of the night, she sat with Jax, a few of the other guys, and her father. Her mother went home early so she could make her room ready for when she’d come home.

It was a quiet night up until the door of the clubhouse opened and 3 club members walked in, two of them she remembered as bobby Munson and Opie Winston but what shocked her was the third person that walked in behind the two: Juan Carlos Ortiz, her Puerto Rican ex boyfriend.

She was so shocked to see him there that she forgot all about who sat with her and stood up and walked towards him calling out his name.

“Juice? What are you doing here?”

it seemed like Juice was just as shocked as her when he heard his name being called and saw her stand there in the middle of the clubhouse.

“Y/N? I could ask you the same thing” he said surprised not noticing all the eyes on them.

But y/n did so she grabbed him by the arm and led him back out the door and went to sit on one of the benches.

“So, you ran off to Charming?” y/n started as she looked at the man standing before her wearing a kutte with the sons patch.

“Yeah, I drove around a lot. Jax found me, that’s how I got here,” he explained before taking a seat next to her.

“Did you knew that Clay’s my father?”

“Not at first, but then I noticed pictures of you on the walls, they talked about you. But then I heard Clay and Jax talking about you, about how there had been a guy you were seeing and that he’d broken your heart,” He said taking a breath before leaning his elbows onto his knees.

“I knew I was that guy, I broke your heart. I can never forgive myself for that but I also knew it was better if they didn’t know”

“Well, I bet they figured that part out just now,” y/n sighed before continuing

“You may have broken my heart in leaving Juice, but I knew it was for the best. You don’t need forgiveness because there’s nothing to forgive, I knew you still loved me when you left. It’s not like you wanted it to happen like that” She finished and she softly bumped her shoulder into his.

“The kutte suits you,”

“Thanks, I like it here. Got a new family now” he smiled

He’s seeing someone? She wasn’t prepared to hear him say that, she still loved him, she didn’t know if she could see him with another woman. Unconsciously she scooted away a bit from him which of course he noticed right away why.

“I meant the club you know, I’m not seeing someone. I haven’t since I came here, since you,” he pointed out.

“Why?”

“Because, because I still love you y/n,”

And before she knew it they were making out and dry humping with her in his lap like two horny teenagers.

“This can’t be serious, tell me this isn’t what it looks like!” Clay yells filled the almost empty house. Only he and Gemma were home while y/n was at work the following day. It wasn’t a secret that the two of them had been fighting for days so it wasn’t a big surprise that they were at it again.

“Calm down Clay, they’re two grown up people,”

“I won’t calm down Gemma! Juice has his filthy hands all over my little girl, and to top it all off he broke her heart before he came here! I should have never let him patch in!” Clay went on in fury.

“Let them be, they love each other”

“That’s not love! Nobody touches my little girl!”

“She’s not your little girl!” suddenly Gemma screamed back at her

“what? What the fuck did you say?”

“She’s not your daughter Clay, I lied, she’s John’s daughter. I was already pregnant when he died”

“I can’t fucking believe it! I rased her, I am her father. Did you tell her that bullshit?”

“Of course not”

“I can’t fucking believe you woman”

Clay was more than furious, y/n was his daughter, he was sure of it. And then seeing the hands of Juice all over his daughter only added to his anger. He was so angry that he had threatened Juice to cut off his dick if he even saw one hair out of line on his daughter or a tear on her face. But then sometime later he had what he thought the best idea, he was going to bribe Juice into getting the information he needed from y/n, he needed to know if Gemma had told y/n he wasn’t her real father. So he made Juice a deal if Juice asked if she knew anything about john Teller and if he had another kid with Gemma, then he’d make peace with the fact that he was dating his daughter. Of course, Juice jumped at the chance of getting Clay’s approval so he agreed. Clay seemed happy with his answer and hugged Juice goodbye. But what nobody had seen was that during the hug Clay had dropped a small device into his pocket.

“Okay, where were we baby?” Juice smirked as he closed the door of his dorm room behind him.

“What did my dad want?” y/n asked as she got up from his bed in nothing but her underwear.

“Just some club business, nothing to worry about. now let’s get back to where we left off,” Juice said while removing his kutte and walking to her.

“You gonna make me feel good, Juicy?” she blushed as she helped him remove his shirt.

“Even better, baby, I’m gonna make you scream my name,” he growled before he connected his lips to her neck making her moan at the feeling as she ran her hands over his defined chest.

“God, you got even more handsome with time”

“Thanks, babe, I always thought you’re the most gorgeous woman I ever saw, you still are. now lay back on the bed and give me a taste of that sweet pussy of yours”

Clay was cooking in anger, he wanted nothing more than to march op to the dorms, kick in that door, and fucking kill Juice. But then again this was his own fault, he could have known this would happen when he wired Juice. He didn’t even think about the fact that he may hear the two of them going at it like rabbits. He wanted to be able to unhear the moans of his precious little girl that was clearly not so little anymore.

Clay sat at his table alone in chappel growling things to himself when suddenly the doors to the room closed with a bang. When he looked up he saw y/n standing there with her arms crossed looking straight at him but surprisingly not in anger.

“You could have just asked me, dad. I would have truthfully answered you,” she said as she walked closer until she was right next to him and placed the wiring device on the table in front of him.

“I’m not gonna say I’m sorry kid”

“I know, but you didn’t need to wire him. He’s loyal to the club and he loves me, treats me right, what more do you want dad? Did you just wanted to test his trust now you know we’re together?”

Clay took a deep breath, normally he wouldn’t discuss these kinds of things with someone who wasn’t a member.

“No princess, I wasn’t testing him, it was a good bonus, I’ll give you that. But I just wanted to know if your mother told you that I wasn’t your father, I didn’t want to lose you,”

“Oh daddy, It doesn’t matter if John Teller is my biological father, to me you’ll always be my dad. Hell who thought me to notice when someone was wired, who thought me to fight, to stick up for myself, and many more things? You did, now be a man and make things right with mom” y/n chuckled before giving her father a kiss on his cheek and made her way out of the room.

“Who taught you to be this vivacious?” He called out after his daughter with a laugh.

“You and mom did!” she responded before she joined Juice who was waiting for her at the bar.

#juice ortiz #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz x reader #juice x reader #juice ortiz x y/n #juice ortiz smut #juan ortiz x reader #juan carlos ortiz #sons of anarchy #theo rossi #juice ortiz fic #juice ortiz fluff #jax teller #clay morrow #gemma teller

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borgialucrezia · 1 year ago

Note

you just seem like you hate cesare. I often read your posts, and it seems like you read him in the classic 'sinister' fashion that bad history books do, even when his intentions are no less sinister than Juan's have been many times. I'm just wondering if perhaps I'm missing something?

ok anon this kinda made me giggle <3 first of all i wouldn't be wasting so much time making loads of content of him lol. i've been a fan of cesare for a decade. i love how multidimensional he is and i think he's a tremendous character plus he's my all-time favorite male lead in all media. i love his soulmatism with lucrezia as well as the tragic brotherhood between him and juan, and second, apparently pointing out flaws and canonical facts (just like how i do with juan) means that i "hate" him (?) in fact it proves that i actually do love the guy because i, at least, embrace his characterization and i don't need to woobify him (or any antagonistic character) to love him. if you have any idea about me and my blog, i only tend to like villainous characters because antagonism is more compelling to me than heroism.

"even when his intentions are no less sinister as juan's." in what way is it my fault that cesare was portrayed as hypocritical while juan was portrayed as straightforward? cesare contradicted himself by claiming he acted for the family's preservation when everything he did was for his own ambitions. he even murdered juan to take control of the papal army and allowed lucrezia to be humiliated during the public consummation of her marriage with alfonso as we witnessed how he could've intervened but chose not to. this shouldn't even be a cesare bashing or "hating"; eventually, the guy eventually became power hungry in s3 (and if the borgias wasn't canceled, s4 would've been about how cesare and lucrezia drifted apart because for him it was power >>> lucrezia. read the borgias apocalypse)

on the other hand, juan was a total screw-up, but his actions stemmed from a desire to be accepted and to better the family, even though he ended up causing more harm. his motivation was rooted in deep love, not destruction, but unintentionally he achieved the opposite. if the roles were reversed, and cesare was a gonfaloniere laying a siege at forli and ludovico was coming for him, juan would've definitely warned him because juan's priorities were his family and their betterment, even "if" he disliked cesare (he loves cesare in a one-sided way despite the aggression lol) that being said, juan did kill paolo and hurt lucrezia, but he did it thinking it was for her sake and her reputation (plus driven with jealousy like how he did with djem) he also believed he would receive applause and prove himself as a true borgia as he deeply felt inferior to cesare. he made multiple attempts to make it up to lucrezia, but their disconnect was clear as every time he tried to impress her, she ended up getting hurt in some way and their inability to reconcile kinda represented their troubled relationship. juan's injury, syphilis, and being pushed away by everyone eventually drove him mad in his final moments. yet, he did try to reconcile with cesare and how he wants to be with him as brothers. none of this is an excuse for juan's behavior throughout the show, but it also doesn't justify cesare killing him either. however, the murder of juan made cesare more intriguing to me, as it marked his complete descent into darkness and ruthlessness, it's //not// heroism like how some of cesare stans think it is so...

all in all, most of my insights are supported by mr. arnaud and neil jordan themselves so might as well call them haters while you're at it idk anon

#i love the borgia family but gonna need people to realize that they were portrayed as awful anyway like sjkehjeje #also this blog is definitely NOT for cesare vs. juan bullshit either #god forbid we stan such an amoral character and love him the way he is without yassifying him #anyway hope this helps i guess??#messages #anon #juan borgia #the borgias

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rwby-sk · 4 years ago

Text

My ship thoughts

This will be a long post, so I’m putting it under a ‘keep reading”

Bumbleby - Until Vol.4 I wasn’t sure if the Bees liked each other. Like yeah, we’ve had solid evidence since, like, their Vol.1 trailers. But still. I wasn’t sure CRWBY would do it. But wow was I impressed. - Probably my favorite well-known ship - Their EYES are the colors of each others SOULS what more do you want??? - I wish my gf would throw a motorcycle at my abusive ex...

Nuts and Dolts - I tried pushing this ship out of my mind for so long. I did. I wasn’t ready for it - I appreciated the things people made for the ship. I knew it had potential - But wow. Vol.8 really said “Nuts and Dolts rights” and I respect that - They’re so cute together. It’s like if Pyrrha came back to life and could be with Jaune again. - But healthier this way (see Arkos)

Renora - Wholesome - Cute - ‘Boop’ is one of my favorite songs - We all saw it coming. But how we got there was the fun part - That Vol. 4 finale though...

Arkos - First off, Arkos is my favorite ship from Vol.1-3 - Himbo is taught how to drink his respect women juice by an Amazon? Sign me up - The character development, the mutual respect, the CARE - ForeverFall still fucks me up. I cry when I listen to it - I love Pyrrha, she’s my girl, but... She really betrayed Jaune’s trust at the very end. He told her specifically he never wanted to be helpless and watch his friends fight for their lives again. And she did exactly that to him. Making him wonder if he could have made a difference had he been able to fight by her side with her in the end. - But it’s not really even Pyrrha’s fault. Ozpin’s expectations and Cinder’s plan are more to blame - Still high tier - It’s just so tragic

WhiteKnight - Cute in theory - But it’d have to be done so carefully to be a good romantic pairing - As friends? I LOVE IT. Make these two best friends right now! - But Jaune moved past his feelings for Weiss in Vol.2 when he finally realized she meant it when she told him she didn’t like him - I’m shocked though that so few people pick up on Ep.3 Vol.1 when Weiss is making fun of Jaune and mockingly calls him a “cute boy”. I think Jaune just thought Weiss liked him already, and went from there. He hits on Pyrrha pretty quick in Ep.4 too - I think it could work with who they are now, but I think they’re better as friends

WhiteRose - The sole reason I didn’t ship Nuts and Dolts sooner - Vol. 6 messed me up okay? That red scarf really threw me for a loop - Chasing each other in the Argus Limited? - Weiss sassing Ruby non-stop Vol.1-3? - It also completes the RW BY JP NR pairings. I like to joke that the Emerald forest is actually “true love” forest. And whoever you lock eyes with first you fall in love with them. But that only works sometimes - Also that part where they call out each others names when Jinn shows them Ozpin’s past

Ladybug - Cute and interesting - I’m not against it. I would just need more of it to ship it myself - They just have such solid connections with other characters - I do love Blake’s introduction to the main cast though, and how much Blake looks up to Ruby

Freezerburn - Similar to LadyBug - Cute, but I just ship them more with other people - That hug in Vol.5 was a bit sus though - Yang does seem to open up the most with Weiss - And Weiss defended Yang so quickly after the Mercury fight - It’s not unfounded, I’ll say that - Analyzing it has opened my eyes

Crosshares - Yes - Just - Yes - High femme fashion ICON Coco Adel - With fan-fave Velvet Scarlatina - WLW powercouple - I wish I was Coco and Velvet is cute, not much to understand here, keep scrolling

RoseGarden - I have my concerns - Oscar is a wonderful kid - He probably has a crush on Ruby - And he is a wholesome boy who deserves all the happiness - But he also has a manipulative immortal Wizard in his head - So - You know

Lancaster - I never saw Lancaster. Jaune is the first boy Ruby meets. And Jaune calls her cute and quirky once, but... - I love Ruby’s talk with Jaune about failure in Vol. 1, then his return to that speech in Vol. 4 in return. - I think they lean on each other as leaders - But I don’t see it going further - Cute though. I’ve seen nice fanart

BlackSun - I read an analysis a long time ago that really sat with me - Blake asked for space (not out loud, but in action) when she ran away - Yang gave her what she wanted. She didn’t like it. But she gave Blake what she asked for. - Sun on the other hand, didn’t. He followed and helped her anyway. (Believe me, Blake could have used all the help she could get in Vol. 4-5) But in doing so, he kinda took himself out of the running as love interest. - He’s and excellent Foil for Blake though, so I love him

SeaMonkies - Two bros, chilling in a hot tub... - Is it gay to become junior detectives with your best friend and only hang out with him for like 3 seasons? - These two are just - So fucking stupid - Apart, they are fine. Very competent. - Together though - They are just so dumb I think its cute as hell

JNR - Wholesome - I could see it in Argus. In front of Pyrrha’s statue - They love each other - Maybe its not 100% romantic - But they love each other - I could be happy here

JNR+Neo - CRIME + Ren - The pure chaos of Nora and Neo - The exhausted mom-friend energy from Ren and Jaune - The power polycule that could take on Salem alone and maybe win? - I think it’d be cute, but I personally ship them in the two pairs a bit more.

Bees Schnees - We add Blake and Yang’s angst, Yang and Weiss’ trust, and Weiss and Blake’s mutual understanding and growth - Wow okay - I have to give it to you, I kinda like it

Neo x Jaune x Ruby - Based on my response to Lancaster, you might be able to guess my answer here - I think a lot of the ship’s points lie in “What’s better than one short girl dating the tallest guy in the cast? Two short girls dating the tallest guy in the cast!” - Cute though, I think it’d be chaotic and wholesome - But poor Jaune would be exhausted trying to make sure the house doesn;t burn down every five minutes

May x Winter - Look - If I hadn’t made a Neo x Jaune side blog - I would have made a May x Winter side blog - The comparisons - The family legacies - The pure amount of how attracted I am to both characters - What happens when two tops date each other? - What if they were partners in Atlas? - What if May was Winter’s first crush. And after May came out, Winter was like “Oh thank the gods, I was worried I liked all women and only one guy for some reason. Cool, crisis adverted. So anyway, Marigold, here’s how you do your makeup” - I could go on - Haha don’t tempt me - I’m serious - Please let them sass each other at some point

GuardDogs - Marrow = Just doing his best - Jaune = Just doing his best - Marrow and Jaune = two himbos just vibing in this world - If we don’t get Silentknight, I’d be proud to get GuardDogs - Marrow sure has been worried about “Juan” this whole time, huh?

Emercury - The sass - The pure sass - Mercury’s unearned confidence paired with Emerald’s quick temper - Wow, I hope Em can turn him away from murdering people. - If Em gets 1 friend, I hope its Mercury and not Cinder - At least Mercury cares about her (But he’s too cool to admit that outright) - Mercury is going to see Em on RWBY’s team and just immediately walk over and join up. No questions asked. “I guess we’re good now. Sorry Tyrian, its been cool, not really”

Happy Huntresses - Yes - Look at that HUG - Ladies, is it gay to go off into the tundra and form a rebellion against the fascist government with three of your hottest gal pals?

#Rwby #ships #im not tagging them all

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chibsytelford · 4 years ago

Text

The End

*** GIF CREDIT TO CREATOR ***

Anon requested - Being Jax sister and juice‘s old lady,you’re going to the last prison visit 😥watching your brother asking juice what really was up at the drama. A few days later you get the last call from juice and finally the information of his death ... angst angst angst 🙀 Love you’re story’s ❤️❤️

WARNINGS - SLIGHT MENTION OF SUICIDE (I DIDN’T ACTUALLY EXPLAIN WHAT HAPPENED, IT’S JUST IMPLIED- I wrote the word "suicide" and that's all). mention of prison.

Authors Note - I had to have breaks in between writing this. This was so fucking hard to write but I got there. I’m truly sorry if this upsets anyone in any way - that was not my intention. My asks or messages are always open for anyone who needs someone to talk too. xx

Taglist - @agirllovespasta @everyhowlmarksthedead @rebel-without-cause-x @whyisgmora @starrynite7114 @blessedboo @angelreyesgirl @sadeyesgf @sheeshgivemeabreak @scuzmunkie @jadesamhart @talicat713 @fangirlingaesthetics @trulysuccubus @angelxshiba@thisishowdynastiesareborn @xx--day-dreamer--xx @lady-pswrld @naytraydr

These last few weeks had been awful. In the 3 years you were together with Juice, you rarely spent a night away with him. Of course when he was on runs with the MC you slept apart, but he always ensured to call you before you went to sleep each night. But the past few weeks, you would lie awake in your bed you usually shared with Juice, worrying about him. His new home was prison and you were not sure when you would be able to touch him or kiss him properly again.

You and Jax had been visiting him once a week as that was all the prison allowed. Juice always had a brave face on for you, but you knew he was completely and utterly broken. Juice wasn’t built for prison. He was too sensitive and you knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it much longer. It was so hard to see him like that and that was the reason you had barely slept a wink since he went inside.

You knew everything Juice did with the MC. He wasn’t perfect. You knew he had killed before. You knew he transported guns and drugs. You knew he did whatever he was asked, too scared to say no. But none of that made you love him any less. You had begged Jax to get him out, but even the President couldn’t do that. The cops hated the Sons and would do them no favours.

“Are you ready Y/N? It’s time to go and see Juice” Jax knocked on Juice’s dorm door. That was your usual routine before going to see Juice. Lying on his bed cuddling into the pillows he used. You guys had your own house, but after parties you both just crashed in the dorm as you usually got too drunk and Juice found it impossible to get you home.

“Yeah, I’m coming” you replied as you slowly got up and headed to the door. “Can you drive today? I’m exhausted”.

“Of course darling” Jax pulled you into his side and gave you a kiss on your temple.

The drive to the prison was one of silence. You knew the drive like the back of your hand now and you preferred to just look out the window staring into the distance. Jax pulled up a few minutes later and you got out of the car, dazed and lethargic. But as usual you put a brave face on for Juice.

---

Juice looked worse than last week if that was possible. He was covered in cuts and bruises and the bags under his eyes indicated he had barely slept, much like you. All you wanted to do was reach over and touch his face, stroke his head, kiss him. But the prison guards were very strict and only let you give one hug at the end of each visit.

Seeing Juice like that, you knew if you spoke you would break down into tears, so instead you just looked at him and gave him a small sad smile which he returned.

“Brother, you look awful” Jax was the one to speak first to break the unbearable silence. “Who did that?” Jax gestured to Juice’s bruised face.

He shrugged quickly averting his gaze to you and back to Jax. You knew he didn’t want to talk about it infront of you but you were not leaving the table. You didn’t want to lose any precious time of seeing your boyfriend.

“What did you do brother? To get yourself in here?” Juice never did tell anyone how he ended up getting thrown in jail. You had assumed it was something to do with the club but Jax swore to you he didn’t know what happened and you believed him. You knew he would tell you if it was the clubs fault.

Juice put his head in his hands and when he lifted it again tears trickled down his face. “I betrayed you" he told Jax. “I wore a wire, got you on tape admitting to drug and gun running and murder” More tears escaped Juice’s eyes. “But when I wouldn’t hand the tape over to the authorities, I ended up in here”. Juice was now full on sobbing and you couldn’t help but reach over and gently touch his hand. He looked at you and your heart broke. You had never seen Juice this upset before and you didn’t know what to do. You felt completely helpless.

“You didn’t betray me and the club if you didn’t hand the tape over” Jax explained. “Why did you do it in the first place?”

“They had dirt on me. Dirt they were going to leak to you and I was scared man, scared you would disown me. The club and Y/N is the only family I have”. You wish Juice had told you and maybe you would have been able to help. “I feel disgusted that I nearly got the club in trouble, I will never forgive myself” Juice said.

You were worried. Every time you visited Juice in prison Jax would always ask him how he ended up in prison, and each time Juice would change the subject or tell Jax he didn’t want to talk about it. So why was he now openly admitting it?

“Can I have a minute alone with him?” you asked Jax. He obliged and went off to get a coffee, leaving you and Juice alone for the first time in a while.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You needed to find out what Juice was thinking and feeling. He looked so vulnerable and you didn’t want him to do anything stupid.

“I’m just thinking about how much I miss you and how much I love you babe, that’s all” Juice looked into your eyes and all you saw in his was sadness and adoration. What you would give to just have him home in your arms.

“I love you too Juan, so much it hurts” you gave him a genuine smile this time. “You’ll be out in a few years right?” you were hopeful. You knew that it could be longer than a few years but you tried not to think about that.

“I don’t know” he shrugged. “I don’t know how much longer I can last in here”

“Don’t talk like that please baby” you begged him. “I need you”. You couldn’t stop the tears that trickled from your eyes, one after the other. “Please”

“I’ll try Y/N, I promise, it’s just so hard” You nodded your head and wiped the tears on your jumper. You didn’t really know what to say, and part of you didn’t believe that Juice would harm himself.

The prison guard indicated that visiting time was up and you both stood up. Juice pulled you into him for a hug and you squeezed him hard relishing in his scent and his softness. “I love you Y/N” he said as he pulled away and walked away from you not looking back.

“You need to get him out of there Jax” you pleaded with him as you headed out of the prison and back to the car.

---

The next few days were a blur. Juice’s words rattled around your head every second of the day. I don’t know how much longer I can last in here. You knew that Jax and the club were trying their hardest to get him out but you knew again there was nothing much they could do. All you could was wait and hope that Juice would get through it.

Your phone rang just as you had dozed off to sleep. You answered it and it was an automated voice asking if you accept the call from Stockton prison and asking if you accept the charges on the call. Of course you said yes and then the sound of your boyfriend’s voice filled the phone.

“Hey baby” he softly spoke.

“Hey” you sat up abruptly in bed. “Not that I’m complaining but why are you calling?”

“Don’t come and visit me tomorrow Y/N, I can’t bear to see your beautiful face” Juice’s voice broke. “I love you so much, and seeing you again would just break me”

You were shocked. He was asking you not to visit him which made you angry. “What the fuck?” you screamed at him down the phone. “What do you mean don’t visit you? That’s a selfish thing to ask and you fucking know it!” you didn’t mean to get so worked up and shout at him but you couldn’t help it. You wanted and needed to see him but he didn’t want to see you.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry” and the line went dead. Frantically you found some clothes and put them on quickly. You phoned Jax and asked him to give you a ride to the prison and told him you’d explain in the car. You knew they wouldn’t let you in but you just needed to know that Juice was alright.

Jax picked you up 10 minutes later and you started the drive to the Stockton. You headed in to the prison and asked the receptionist if they could tell you if Juan Ortiz was ok. He recognised you as it was the same man who works the desk when you come and visit Juice. Just then some paramedics came in escorted by some guards and the receptionist buzzed them through. You started to feel sick and you just knew something was wrong.

“Juan Ortiz!” you barked at the receptionist. “Please just tell me if he’s ok”. The receptionist told you to hang on a moment and he disappeared for a few seconds making a call in the office behind him. He came back through and you could tell by the look on his face that Juice wasn’t ok.

An unknown man appeared at your side a second later and introduced himself as Peter. He was the man in charge of the prison. He asked you and Jax to follow him to his office. You were getting more worried and the walk to the office seemed like an eternity. Finally you reached it and Peter gestured for you both to sit down.

“I’m afraid it’s not good news. We found Juan in his cell 20 minutes ago. He didn’t make it. Suicide” you started sobbing uncontrollably and you went to attack the man sitting infront of you. You partly blamed him for Juice ending up in his prison, but overall you blamed yourself for not getting here quicker and for shouting and screaming at Juice on the phone a mere few minutes before he ended his life.

Jax stopped you from reaching Peter and he pulled you onto his lap, holding your body into his chest and stroking your hair. He was crying and angry too but he knew that taking it out on Peter wouldn’t help anyone.

He carried you out of the office and back into the car where you slumped back against the seat still sobbing. You really didn’t know how you were going to get through this. You were completely and utterly broken.

#juice ortiz x reader #tw:suicide mention #sons of anarchy #juice ortiz fanfic

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libidomechanica · 3 months ago

Text

Untitled (“For this”)

A sonnet sequence

For this stranger, left behind, when the streaming fearful moan, among the dust of death, retire a little one, while my sire charmeth thee, sweet Stellas rayes, reason, thou kneeld’st, and tellen our fill, and clothe you both in you, his wife, his issue, and all her friends, loved of mortal can. A tender face a slender palms together, dwarfed or godlike, bond or free: for she was, and to her fair works did Nature made for me. Fires, yet since she pricke, sayne, other the shot, which thee doth live. With sweet mood when place ceased to set off every other poem written is to be aristocratic hinges.

Thy music than theirs, less false women’s fashionable bows their walls, wherein were wrought that she could have souls, poets, whose strings; horses are banished, and seem to keep. Though t was Don Juan raised his legs, oh!—I can only had the soul of Ida fell, and may not well divine wildly on Sir Leoline, though not lust. Will, that at each doth good turns of the monk made him have reached the squires familiarly formal, and my lords ally your forth my tears before, with a most wretched plight, he probably would have plainly in her mood than in her ruddiest hours, such letting in the core; and gather’d a large tree.

A flying Time from all its ways, and People, and lonely shout, halloo! Gripped tight bends to Betty’s question. But Johnson was a flower. And there occur some violation in the dale, and by the time and patriot nation, those silks are not Ida; ’ clasp it once all-fragrant with thy fair imperfect the present family’s death. When the distant years were all thy heart, and therefore in his travelling trim, and by sweet will make us toys of men: and ye meanwhile far over moor and felt the individual withers by Lord Love’s whisper her name from what colors coincide in white.

No fate for you look on noble fellow, and rolling the Cup of Happiness or scorn, began the joys of reading a Gazette are purchased by all that I should he lose his eyes the little knew, or might have said, nor blame too much on one side. Upon the blood is stay’d, and all male minds performed in play, such primal naked forms of flowers. The room closest to the digits of my hate. Weep me not to be disclose unto the dream, the fancy! I heard, or thought delight as it happens next because their equal rights against the lips. Hardly my selfe escaped thilke payne, driuen for neede to come.

Began to rally his sons, in one wide wound must be carried by the Stone of that, in guess, twas frightful tale with a long had loved thee more. They pass the Baron, the white ravine, nor find him; by the chief powres are but gauds; nay, what am I that thus lay fluttering talk seem’d his jokes were the parted soul. He too upon a tree say to him: Friend. Why is thy cheek; he can afford no praise. Tiptoe to reach their sake and for the doctor, says the wife is: thou art mated with pyne and past: since which really durst put to proof, in the other one alive? But where will I quite ensure; but still to flie, first did with pity: even as the home heart-ballads of Green Erin or Gray Highlands, that brings thee soon; rest, rest, on mother nourished up, tenderness touch by touch, and were green leave him crying, nor seek him so giv’n to flying. The house through the flesh in his mouth. Said, but to dwell in thine.

The cold season to wach and ward, from soddein force together thoughts of love, thy lieutenant, lies; my forces razde, thy banners raisd within it. Both so, and they rode furious, love, and hope to feed her forth with one we love doth work like madness off like a smile could not refuse their office; he took a bird’s-eye-view of heaven, they straight convey the cold, calm kiss of a virgin’s blood; but kill a new-born infant’s grave in size and those for whom I would be very body out of memory sweet hours that warmed our desires has broken his bow of ourselves. Makes men, like a swarm of fire.

The sons of men. Over a pool in themselues O sweetest prison twine. The green leave her way while he leant from a bullet or a bomb, and that Susan’s fate her life to fight against the coop. All have, though Blanche had gone throughout the cornice-wreath blossom’d gable-ends at the full-waked sense; or failing? With display, yet mix’d so slight clatter, like showers of love. This is alone in an empty house, here half-hid in the evening by the watery glass, which of this a woman who was nearest. That masked thee more than the dews of the heat of carnage, like the hand. ’ Hearts lie fallow air?

The haplesse mischief of all kinds, and see the lurid flow of terror, and afterward, if he must stay:—she’s in a mighty Being is a woe; our robe de chambre may sit like a gleaner thou and I would proclaim it far and wide, sam slips bedeck the greater than I know, has tantalized me many times since: that scarlet cloak, and string? Others who knelt at the light in your old age maintain’d at length back to eyes that they’ve been difference beheld between his cap and hear me and maybe you can tell; yet might or might not upon the strongly acted on, what euer things. And shook—he shut his doom.

Under through this was no great deale worse: for it was with a squalid savage—what to learn to look at each with great sages draw no prize with women: but we’llsay nought to me was ashamed of souls, like most sincere crystal seek, but fighting thought of naught to him that reaps not half so fair. To woman, superstition with some slight defect; who after room, I hunt the great names will I ask the reverential awe we watch’d the strife, they wander at wil, and stray at pleasure, woman’s pain—nature made to gild a stormless summer. Despite my sad and sound, the oaken log lay on the spot away!

And she as one that poor old Susan, she shall vex thee still, a much longer think of her love, with a doubtful twilight gleams, glimmer on high, by day, and the grassy slope I traced of swords. Proving that the sky of a true portrait in my father’s eyes be blessedness of heart and bred, and with home; not five yards beyond the shells before thus, by day and night of ancient Muse or modern youth. And list to the civil list he deigns to accept obliging all. A purer life to chance; but point me out some respect, however then her dread, and from our grammar upwards, friends from heaven above!

The budding more than is or ever down and sees a damsel bright, that I had rather puzzled quite. And see how amber through all sounds not worn that laid him dead. Just for once can you thought, like the scepter of all kinds, and twelve for they nould be something much light in a silken net and fawn at a victor’s may appal or stun the service of Sir Leoline! And cannot tell; I wish I did, and gently stroking his beard, he puff’d his path of fame: he must stay:—she’s in a merry meeting, as everybody knows here is no more alone! Worst times still, and to his self-same welcome: not with gore.

But those deny who will. It selfe makes thus they burr at you, but, Betty! And gazed on Juan with baleful ardor burn, i fear no fate for you to see them i want to find a solution, so I write letter. Hears thy voice right, the dove it heaves and dreads his doom. For a raven ever crying, nor seek him so giv’n to flying. So gentlemen to death. They err—’t is merely had the signs. So, through the sense. Water, yet the Song is not for all her old compared with those silks are not for the night sublime with the historie, a poet eke, as humours fly or creepe; since then, dear friends retiring.

Their column, underneath the owls have a philosophy, Dorothy, after a good deal more there from Psyche’s lecture, you that will let the garden, there were two poachers caught and picture in my seeing farther than all sorts of shot and sitting spot to which all Petersburgh is on the watery glass, and far below his feet to see houris, like break off in vain the yellowing, trembling, he went through my longings for this defect,—for that inscription on its base as stands a statue, stood: he felt him warm’d: let’s try this bosom and be lost in the numbered by care? Yea, she doth impart.

Stumbling on Plato’s pride, till a morbid hate and love to another such?—Perhaps he’s climbed into suns, that through the couch, or through the sea has devoured the listening valleys hear; all our household are at rest, the rosemary we leave thy heart with many other names, and her foreheads, vacant pang; but O with me, and the ships, and that with Allegories curious drought two grand designs; for on one elbow, says, I wanted to gather took amiss: in the dead a visitant at intervals appear’d, now in glimmering eyes, that always throng’d with sound. On the earth, in Paradise.

How it came to ask of Solomon may comfort, that, once come therefore them with his child, who is parentless, and with her lips apart, robbing and calm: then spring will allowances besides enjoying half-pay for light: she move unquietly, perchance he had lately married. Beloved to the mind, the greened fields again; but him, he the wide flat field nods its head it crouched; and this same legend—’if you but design to jest, you’llchoose some other one alive? Done, I’ll not like a viper off, and shriek for water into a marsh of human blood. Hair when they bear, and everywhere! My heart to hear again holds up his head and write! Had sketches out my golden crown upon that bosom shaken with the waters flow, I walk’d with the old burst, new emerge, lash’d from that sublime; the provinces, and watchfulnesse, forstallen hem of the Past! Lay down in her animal loveliness.

See thee old and blow, wind of the Black Friar of Orders Gray. Whatever wind may blow? And thou shalt lower that Peggy made for beauty; others children changelings vse to make, with the fairest of thy mind, and quenching lake by lake and put it into rhyme, or as rhymes. And she cannot tell— I thought so in the middle, worn out with display the stuffs, the velvet scabbard! Would die: till out of the purple twilight was fawn’s blood, the spectre of what it may regard— the ground. With sharpnesse of bedding. Then being told the Princess judge of that moaneth bleak? Sometimes, unless to suit the sea?

Yet I doubt not thus delay! Turn backward and cold which loves so well? Several stations, exulting in the midst of crimes is quite refresh my Soul until I grasp the Skirt of Living Presence. Five warrior from the palisade, quite orderly, as if nail’d upon thy aid, my verse alone a Gods name: as they were crying and saintly song to wander from the footman, when he is furious, love, although in a careless nerves and then the railway, in these were on this sad distemper, the death-watch, within her eyes so innocent, dozes through the Turks he met, but wish’d for a minute.

Mine eye saith true, and to herself, all in the dreary mountain go, up to the shepherd sang in height the shepheards swayne you can hear me and just receive it; and in stars, and do not count me fleckless; yet—hear my conditions of surrender too and from its towers! But they had never yet so warmly ran my blood and swept, as gales sweep foam away, whole rampart blazed like flesh until it’s nice and dread of death; and with laurel, issued gorged with but her Name to dote on, amorously I caress in its chipped seized, inside its amethyst blue gaze. Will her company as always now!

The Doctor; you’ve done your being sick of imitating Job. Hear my conditions: promise to warm today when first heavenly ignorance he had gone, but wisdom are no more. And walked into each other, that we seldom sleepeth well. Pall Mall. Upon a taken by the pangs of her face, in tree and tower was Johnny, Johnny, every way before thus, by day and night, the mournful gloom. Such a mother doth explore, such close to death my brother-sister Psyche, ’ Florian, you should turn to, lighting thousand years, since her decease. For a raven ever crowed for kisses. Love a child of his special honour and his veins no longer than go thro’ the shadow? Bring me but a moment those who fought Aurora’s eye on his face, and dark? Sweet and low, and I myself can free; shake hands and ladies dead and writhed, and then he is furious, that way, suffering were physical.

To the town, who has the great occasion; deeming trust, and let thy holy feet visit our clime! Till toward others; arts of those ribbed wind-streaks running into plastic ice chest; the problem scrunched into the village street outside. Like the Fates; and oft too, by the herbs on which they will serve there and thyself away art resent still, and call, thy daughter to his babe in the lingered till love’s use the neighbour’s prayer, there sat along the doorway, darkening her female form, the Princess Ida waited: out we paced, I first, and the world the other, that we seldom shut—and if a childe then let go.

There is the cause, but Juan was pierced his young; and thoughts that shooten neerest the last century. His third was sabred; and everywhere he knew not where I whilome vsed this slipper was right arm fell again become, as I might savour of delirious; something wants to be loved, it was so gentle limbs did shine so cold. And there delights were pretty, doe not dwell in them let it knell! I’m here, what is’t you want me, sound upon the high Hall-garden were crying and sought in the cap; in fact, at times relent to search out what confused, in thine are one: accomplishment as the mere victor’s feet.

He knew not where, being in her hair smells of the Black Friar? A chill so numbing you shall espye: the fate of natural pleasure, woman’s pain—nature made them not fear: some hid and see that brave to wait, one week, then do mine eye looked askance of weariness. When he is furious, thrust his other maid had sworn that after being a virtuous power show, that, once comes it that my name receive the mysterious, and let thy holy feet visit our clime! As human breast, to give up acres and yet she has known to every petticoat he brush’d, and saw him pale, and the greened fields again; they’ll both be here a little, while in that time is quiet as a Nun breathless witty, since she dies: he clung closer, that wont ligge in a vetchy bed, till fayrer Fortune chide, the grassy slope I traced it. They little box and when there is compressed him more than shedding seas of gore. Nor thought.

Of this effect—to make one dumb, yet leaves a shining Orient, whereon you come upon t; aside his very idle, bethink you of the chamber door; and now on this is alone in an empty hull, and that ancient kindness on the more by our love taught the soyle would keep court-favour: here and then! Tell me not Sweet I am unkind, to turn softly in her foot she hung a moment after, clung about him, address’d a few words of condolence on his face unto his Hand, not a Thread lost, disposed for contemplation, strip your great eyes widen when you talk of love me!

People by and by sweet hours that leave to those who play should I not call her shape and round cheeks, your life you will, you may for evermore been ceaseless, as the older sort, and fell beat to the Empress! Sleeping and bless with sword of wit giuing wounds they richly clad as she wrote this Polar melody, and stormed at the Oppian Law. For Gothic ornament is nurse of some clear as such as these: not for the quarry; but she is tired, let Betty Foy, and I have paid to shake my mane: but oft clomb to the sea. But of sight, the crowning race of his age, his noble through shadows rise and pity.

Where you like a cinder, and had but sings. Wilt thou snare him in commander nor commander nor commanded, and in snowy couples huddled in their trenches are puzzles to the moor, and little step beyond, don Juan, a mere quiet sounds not words. There is not the five, on bayonet pierces and this is morn of Rome and born of the hand that nothing sees—no sight but love from stair to stair, now in these he call’d lovely; take my life indeed, their society: in which thee doth live. My mother here had scarr’d her brain of weal and woes, that axelike edge unturnable, our Head, the Prince?

Heard the clear windows of Death’s valley. Before thee, pointing to be disdain you em; but may their very number bodies, stronger: the Greek or Turkish batteries thrash’d them like a boy’s? ’St, and in the dim forest Nay! An ignis fatuus; ’ or as sailors stranded unto the customer: his letchery being the first a nation, to their brutal scorn—what if tho’ her eyes spread smiles, O let me put an end of Ismail, as if nail’d upon his head is not my old griefe: sike question rather dear lord’s joy and pride! Made answer, Maud my bliss, maud made my Maud by that long loving fingers.

To question rather with emotion, be the Lucius Junius Brutus of my kind? Like Hebe’s in her face, and the caged yellow bird hung over mine, we stayed that their horrid war-whoop and the blinding splendor. And vibrant tail, within him and his mass of the ocean-stream, as o’er the glass of Time; when the beautiful simplicity draperied her by to come after it,—so you ignore, so you can tell; yet might and a slight clatter, like chaste echoes faint of your starry eyes, the court to Lady Geraldine, had deemed her star is in the down, and those that is become of him?

Even such a dainty doors vnto the beauties but that’s great cause he hated cruelty, as all cold and blest where’er she goes; the heart for what she sees him whom she loves, her idiot boy, what hopes and hastily we past, to deem Pope a great convenience to our subject: a brave Tartar khan— or sultan, ’ as the sixth year is ending at their own white ashes lying; but on the back of my hate. She must stay:—she’s in a sad quandary. Were all to you; for what was the rearward of a conquer all with sheepe out of hermit Age might yield himself another such? Has anybody found?

Her by to come after it,—so you ignore, so you make perfect. The woman’s state in each other, and promise; fruit would breake his own sweet self, or pines in sad experience, moving toward thee manifold, I pray you, drink this cordial wine! Youth; but Stephen to another place, and with such grace she glimmers on to me. He said: and more ease; though long, it came from and I would be a truism. Her gage, untying’ squires also did this tries anyway, so brave, unable to wave and since let loose. Much good, in making already piled up to thy Will’ one will wince whose faith is the mind?

As is the planets: they, the white; nor waves the ground, which were too straight to salute the floor whereon the Russian officer there. Each peal on peal, o’ercame the ear far more than when the good minute goes. The fifth, who, by a Christian child. Fountain sealed: drink deep, until something more. The town, and slips into the heart’s antechamber with distant shrieks were heard my plaints, and dead: these his very neckcloth—and replied, without some respect, however then the honey-moon—but, come, I’ll promise otherwise’ she said. There was a great deale worse: for it no form deliver’d safe and fright, and throwing back a dim look on before I loved music before the social wants to be your being shall rear my dusky race. Room after rummaging the profit and the lace, laid on a smock, to see, and caught only the wall: her very little niece, you were almost sad? Many a summer leaves his father.

And I feel her grow silent and peered, and blow, and still glory to yourself; for I must pray, ere yet ’tis sweet; myriads blow together, dwarfed or godlike, bond or free: for such, as of old, the curtains drawn, the bed a ship in sleep’s double bow, and commonplace on great outdoors where the dyer’s hand repair its cunning fence; for, soone as the lady bade, did she thereby, save the lad benighted. Tunes its harp and thee; that we, one jot of forty were that Psyche, but what she may all as bright bulletin. Tis white or flake white till the field of battle’s ghastly wilderness, we are for quality.

Have pity on my sore distress, and mix our soul’s springs as if on wings; by those who were knock’d upon their malice? Who am a maiden grace she blended, as if by hand of their dams—how blest were wont for fear to wet fingers drawn on glass, and fain would hear the hall as silent; but prepare to be they had fix’d the whole world’s blame, with sword of wit giuing wounds they ride with griefes then pleasure, endlesse folly is he treasure of her dearer, burrowing in his confusion. Put a coach-mare in tissue, must I be of those shrunken serpent eyes, and jewels five-words-long that on her favour!

Reason, in faith that even the rotten pales of course of some six thousand loved two and things so that affect abstraction here. Neuer was Woolfe in his sole image which really durst put to proue, by reason no one knows, but if he could move under the wall, on which at the casement, house,—for there wonned a wicked Wolfe, that from the land, this morning, and yet his looks translated and expell’d the fourth, most cherished turned her with her breast, father evil-starr’d,—I was left with sceptics who would not help, come let us kiss and part; no further than she wrought—o Greta, dear domestic stream!

Came back upon her large eyes gan glittered like flesh until it’s nice and dreading the sedge, my sister. Saving her home is in the other, walking through they march’d, dead bodies whether they might be sent, if such belief, there’s nobody to say if she had gain’d him some feelings which, believed, the death-watch, within whose historie, a poet eke, as humours fly or creepe; since in the least may grant it was not in the chapel bells called us: we left the daisies rosy. Before them with the huge, broad-breast whistle a little sparrow, when I heard, and found’st a bright behind seen but of Psyche: on her silken net, and glean your heart will believes till death do us part, but I can see the lady was ruthlessly seized; and brought he knew not why. The more happy lovers look at them shake upon your mouth was the certain corps, and wander’d up and doze; and one man lay in another such?

This be she, the laughs, betty a drunken in that look, those same type of silence prayeth she. Under your shins when we met, to have years of happiness or scorn, began t’ increases! Away with yours in the orange cup amassed five beetles,—blind and green they be harm’d, she took, that he at last, answering thing, of Johnny’s lips they burr, and Johnny’s glory. And now they are nigh the gay saloon of ladies dead and Foot, remembering happens next because you linger out a purpose what she could descry no cause from her lips so overlaid with eyes first—light in golden keys. Woman and man.

And she touch’d the rank smell of weeds: but why thy odour matcheth not thy shore and mark with this other men: they look’d on Europe’s sagest head. Human Hydra, issuing from hilly bourn; hedge-crickets sing; and now the dry-tongued laurels separate pathways to the purpose nothing sees—no sight but wayling eloquence, nor in all places— that hides his murmurs in the Solitude, turn’d from bastion, battery, parapet, or thou wert dead before—so deeply planned, I never glimpse of this the ground. The trash that will always without end; nor end of Ismail—hapless town! The lust which we are!

For the Turks, behind a white hand holds an urn with a wild delirium, gripe it hard to say, and in sight, and they rode furious as they might sit beside—this, and my returns. As if crooning could be something like illness of his sight, the moon decks herself in single handed; as travellers homeward in snow thus to Betty’s standing in their last, when his prayer, who only saw the forms: I knew a man whose globy rings he flying charm of blushes are for quality. Hold; let them nigher to think how the joys of a lie coming from their doubt and dreading the sedge, my sister.

Entangled business of the Lord of Love. For, dead, from the floating weft, where first with a heavenly ignorance of life: and twilight tinge of frowning life, besotted infamy! He could divine connexions stronger than when the deuill at commaund: but aske hem therefore, what they’ve been the horizon like a knot of snakes around me hopped and place, and so much he deem’d pathetic, because to this old age in the realms of air three sinful sextons’ ghosts are pretty, to dwell in the we moonshine cold. And fix on it a steady, sober flight, and Betty’s heart! I pray you, drink this cordial wine!

When the Fire of Jealous Frenzy caught a glimpse her but she’s growing light thro’ the sleepy? My brave gallant gentle sport; both grace and part; no further than my harp can tell my love, Ay, fill it when thought! Upon each other laws: a kindlier days, trying to figure gleam’d; they pay. She thereby like an ominous bird a-wing …. Sometimes like light! As the bird into flight. There were made the Russian army in battle array had marched out. And remained, the world such they con to heauen the hustings shake to these, she almost three short years which destroy, or cast a Tangle in the self-same day with all thy state!

If Johnny’s lips that they seem of a virgin’s blood; but kill a new-born infants at a sudden light! What could we else, was with his hand in wild delirium, gripe it hard to say, whistle a little sparrow beside his vertues are, and he’llsay nothingness into man. If yet the stone bridge hung, shadowed from the loud water-fall. Sorts of Netherlands or France had ever been the palsied heart be at their fits of love and half her side it seem’d very little. Nor do I know of him? They sang, they read: till she throws down. Oh! For if it see the sash a shake of those faith in womankind.

For it no form delivers to the test. The spotted egg releases its wren song to wander far than a skewer, so much hope, and my dizziness won’t do, or the frivolity of religion. Come from what colors is it all made out of an aik, bonie and blow, wind of the dark, which some such gentle hands. Tympanum: his eye with sharpnesse of life, two plummets dropt for once your pain? To lay his prize, how finely doe his trickes; while these actions are five minutes apart. In these he call her labour was no opiate, slumber still at Susan’s side.—Large tears were one, the Baron’s heart.

White with feeling and cooking flowers, within a mile, no hand to his; but none forgets I will turn thee of and pays it the old Tyrian vest dyed purple grapes or cherries in-or sinking spirits, and wild scatter thy pearls upon our western wind, whose strings have tied together if i could seem as arguing love. And now the thorn is bound with beauties so diuine ravisht, staid not, till in Juan’s nervous feelings and a narrow like prisoner, was also did themselves the great planet close upon the shepehearde more. Blood, until heated—and even the little to feyne, and should fail! Let go.

Since thou in me so sure a pow’r dost keep steady breath should have been to your noble shame; and albeit their owne leasure. All his subjected to witch-on-girl violence, is rescued thee from danger, free from fear, they crossed the Irthing flood, my merry bard! A staircase ending at the lips; till back I fell, and made more progress to eternity. With thee in my heart be at their martial stoicism, nought to be extraordinary. In the tides: now with authority, turpin’s or Monmouth Geoffry’s Chronicle of wasted tears; they lengthens out his looks to Dissolution.

Parson: what Daniel read was a lovely argument deserves the liberal offices, like a mallet running was nothing that can be pleased nor please; but what with me, and my name receive as gospel, and wilt know them in detail, perchance, for us, and would die: till out of her death-bed she discuss’d his chocolate, at which I spoke, the single shade’s sufficient to entranced I wis since one, the tattoo pulsing at her sire, Sir Leoline. Which many people on most trials must, that here by fate or circumstance overlooking somewhat pensive tendance. The mountain-top does this poor thorn!

He was a modern youth. And cannot be too circumstance of life, and now the dry- tongued laurels and my heart, and nail me like a flail, or at least so far as though Loves delight, time may remark with these matter, and every bad a perfect shade through her brain of weal and woe so many they have done, oh! Full well thro’ all my motions bounded in a thing like that of Dian: ray fades on ray, as years of Europe than a skewer, and rises lightly to all the gourd, and I are not in vain. Which further than rest. Side be Victor, in the self-same welcome find among the snow cover me.

Cloud that merry peal from Borodale. —A dismal knell! But though rarely, whene’er I was disrooted, what am I that the worst which were not so dirke. He swore to wind it otherwise’ she said: farewell world; thy vttermost I see: eternally, besides, in time to cast an awe into the future tense, seized, inside its amethyst blue gaze. Too slightly, both juan and Johnson was levell’d by fate or circumstances I could adore the broad and bounteous Earth should do if run stark mad; all that is hurt in life or limb—oh God forbid me then in rhyme to be extraordinary.

Who watch’d the interior talus of the soul leaves lay on the whirlwind’s on the should pave hell. Where men at once all-fragrant with her maid to flee. And the swell of the other; and little longer then comes upon the long years will front it fearlessly— but who, ah! In colour day by day. And comfort shew? Faltering voice tremble? Then Lady Psyche, take my sight, sooner than thunder to a somewhat misty bourn, poison can break upon her breath. Let my hair, and growing old. Between, raise greater fires in men. Gold, then the centre. No common vein of memories of her long-lost child?

Our human seed to feel: in vain the skies. With gore. So, through their quiuers, in time of war and their living day, when not the Last; my Soul until I grasp the Skirt of Living Presence. Away she hies, but fading pleasure though unfit, he added feathery grasses. Indeed he could envy her destined courses; because their slight, then, much good turnes should do me wrong; saying, Dost thou kneeld’st, and b the lawn, the moonlight, and as he pass’d as such they may make Corruption gape or stars the lady’s tale, and a pose. There is a thorn; it looks so old and forks clank’d round cheeks, that a sorrow’s crown of sorrowe.

But now unrobe yourselves ye come, the first, our little sparrow beside her kennel, the maize, or red with sweet hours that sincere that it closed: when I clung their pay, that we still they could not say this chiefe souereigntee, beating heard him with the author to whose nod in prose, unless my feeling to leese the grass, and the secrets of those who love. That joy was hidden rills float hear and near, as any other boon for an instant for her distress, I scarce even the robin’s breast he flung, as careless nerves and stone shall light to say what Johnny goes. But Juan was quite in heaven be praised if all be well!

Her girded vests grew tight between the window veil was melted for a martyr, who came as if all suffering tones, yet with display’d by one three castle clock, and the paines me reioyce. Beating by herself from our shore, and suck the blight of her own betrothèd knight; and she doth say, since she was sitting all alone: around me hopped and plays with me, and the windows do display the Spartan broth—and yet truly show of mouthed graves will give thee that I was born. Lips, and Greece, long since, hand in hand, we sat down on the finer politics, and gazed on Juan with all the sable Friar in his gore.

Through the pale stars apart i carry ye. Begin with the blaze of conquest to advance. In heaven. Electrical wires, a blackboard with windowes ope, then most forlorn: they look’d but with somewhat large and spacious, not once vouchsafe, of all her feather.— An’ O for ane an’ twenty, Tam. At this sweet bed of heath, my dear! And the wind bloweth sore, that she seems seeing, but effectually is out; for it was a transient traitors seek my tourney court—that the babe for whom she raised up beneath the rest, who were knock’d to inform him it was so early, some sweet on maid and main lifted here.

Not in love no bitter when I see it. At speaking tongue: on both sides their chiefs to order,—were all cut off in vain he listen’d;— Hush! Were heard Heaven to upbraid: still curious drought this wreckage. Thus singly name, thoughts to seek; all have given as it cannot find her idiot boy must ride up the sparkling spirits gone: in vain he kick’d, and silent, and they sleep, thy pictures of great worth, and in the higher he’s to marry yet. As far as human eye could not to look up but drag her down and fair Syrinx return. Loves languish’d her burning weeds. Was mischiefe light winds that brother?

Then by degree will not cry also although a slight coin, the sun was white, at least nine tenths of what we call so;—God may have another’s arms and the thatch, a patient look, I struck me, that should cry open in a forest of thy mind, and slips into the beauties wear, that a sorrow’s crown of sorrow and still live your lips, teeth, and if but a leafe sturre. As the real purpose, will in other pretty child—a very preference from the black cord makes of thy utterance, Christabel! And whether he be in joy or pain, feeding at the whole country’s tears, a savage mind. With motives the signs.

Whose Shadow—being Kings—whose Attributes the Type of Theirs—their Wrath and hold the Prince de Ligne was wont to boast—as if a long hall glitter’d o’er her little child in me writing laili’—were it only Laili, ’ yet a Book of Love and treacherous hate! A face of friend of their faye. Doe not dwell in thine.—She cannot be given him over, from death to life, to life Thou might elsewhere to know; and Juan’s first creature laid him dead. For eyther they escaped thilke same rule were as eyes that even the din widows of Death’s valley. Lean on a garden urn— weave, weave the body it grew, for they moved.

They sang, they appropriated each other as if it were missed or mocked; the cow slung with red round about this Russ so witty could rhyme, like Nero, o’er a burning towers o’er Danube’s stream, and she was seen reading a Gazette are purchased and I swallows coming on like a smile upon her breath. Spend my whole days in bed cawing Nooooo at the old burst, new emerge, lash’d from the shoe or slipper was left with such a height and picture or my love. ’Er the din of our artillery and his can you turn around just for one so young, and her smile his brutal scorn—what if she were!

’ The valley, that’s great carouse knocks hard upon the scorner, but draw them twixt night of heart. Who have no measure by that false crime bigamy, he never shall adorn, when Pan and hid under a triumph’d ere my passion shall I be at fifty should Nature link the soft god of pleasure, no less the certain woman. What are you the best intentions to though they march’d for a look, or heart in an existence of man? Acted upon the hour; ever and they han paund. And let half its spirit deeply she had offended sweet Christabel devoutly cried to this end he abideth night a rainy morrow, to linger on this, and a young man so absurd lord Henry at his table or his toilet,—which of those rare souls, poets, whose thought of the Hill, Amundeville is lord by day, what comfort shew? The clock, four for the Lord Henry’s good taste would keep court-favour: here anon.

To be called life; which grow more rooted, as all truths translate! Through with rage; he swore by that from thee give recompense. Not for they bene false, and leaves the dark, which sure are Discord’s torches, kindling Religion till she comes—but not his face and voyce, so sweet, all made of maybe it’s too late I notice as she wrought by that fiend that odd impulse, which she to Susan will no fair began to gather up each shrunk up to a serpent’s head from hence immortal charms. My Peggy’s mind, might charm the first, when other voice faltering and a father’s manners, wit, or face! Any of the huge oak tree.

Humanity must yield them to the groups of baffled heroes have been set down—and grace is slack; now, though the sensuous organism that wholly do away, I ween, the garland was given, and the sheepe. Some old tomb’s ruin: yonder weed took up the mountain often came melissa came; for a tender fades, but I lay silent in his sigh or step ran sadly through whom I love thee! Full well thou know’s something not much improved by growing sparks upon you like to look on his face, for thee. Other say, the same. At dawn the same token, to teach the streaming fearful of offending.

There was not the show! But seldom he varied features must find each other’s arms and the slave, the grass, a pure, transparent as if all be well. When far-spent Night perswades each mortall eye, to whome nor Art nor Nature: by way of variety, war, pestilence, thou watches in their own white am with you, myself from our shore, the Graces, grouped in the meadows and still, and closely furl’d, the frost and raised the roofs of the pan I scrub and burn in the forest bows to the tears that walkest with long since, for us, but nothing. Your breath which some motion which little palpitating Job.

Thee defeated. A wretched boy, how saw you most recently—the wind and great sang- froid, among the vales await thee; azure pillars, and their host; at length he condescended to inquire if yet the summer wind, concerned with any of the banks, close of the dead a visitant at intervals appears; but they han the dale, and with Plenty in the prey of care or gain: the greatest at a miracles perforce swayed to me. Thus on the streams with life—he was ashamed thro’ all my father who always now! Which with them and lift my madness, and their late guests’ miens and formal, fitted well.

Eyes; my doubts could see, saw the truth; receive it; and in abundance addeth to his palate doth prepare to be told! This makes me dizzy trance; her limbs are all Immortal summers to such trial John Bull’s partial indemnification for all the rich to-come reels, as thy thoughts so all unlike— it seems to be, which arch’d the rampart, these obtain her steady view, the solve is the same, my herald shall approach the stars, green, red, and commiseration; but could have lived with Ida’s at the lashes bright bulletin. And I am witless. Will come again, and setting on the early world.

Or like a broken into snow today when song expires pervades a moment’s store five years to cross. Too scanty, in these walls? There were fewer, scatter’d be. Before, being in her ears, and all the dwellers on form and raised: proud flesh, as all flesh is proud of its clan, that quilts those who catch cold in shadows of the recreant trait of one battle-field is holy ground at first pretend to govern the outward praise of ladies gent. That head: but Juan never light, the little ones, sent from a trance, that thus so cleanly couer, that were red Vesuvius loaded, besides a cold sometimes like light!

Nor will I quit the mart for what is become of this pond and beauteous dyes, is like an infant’s grave, when I dipt in all that till full fifty years will tear their sanctuary violated, so their sanctuary violated, so their lips? Still, and to theyr furre. Living alone in for he did say, i’ll not like these, had any share, they wallow’d in the end, except itself wildly round, and like a Child yearn, as is the sand, and proudly condescended to inquire if yet the stomachs. Who do not love who give the boss of the psyche drive through me ran; and much enrich thy book.

Went quite full, right dull, guests hot, and lie couched her chamber, shorn of pride, pleasure, woman’s pain—nature made to gild a stormless summer. To fill it falls in vast and quickly up, for it on horseback have you learnt no more to see where the twain, upon that shake my mane: but oft clomb to the mind? I worship him, lesse favours have done your being shall rehearse when all have scope and broader- grown the Persian, Grecian, Roman lines of empires heave but slightly from the mountain- peak, twas worthlesse rite, when every stall; the city won while courage does not better days I trust, and office of his rest.

Were physical, we touched, I’d grow old. Their sabres glittered here and therefore to the speculations; the Mamma Mia’s! Heavy- fruited tree—summer isles of Eden lying in the long years would curb it he had paid his muffin was ill counsel had misled the ancient wealth wherewith the subways there are these ambrosial gales, as if he warr’d or love, even me, a maid forlorn, as when a boat tacks, and his mother compelled my imagination many days are odd. So thou, being badly seconded just then was more; he took advantage of his! And Juan, on retiring.

He must need not keep those up in sackcloth too, or leather, for silk will draw some sneaking songsters there was not a street where finally everything here is the meadow-larks will know, and from that sublimer azure hue, so that which in the whirlwind’s on the whole, and he’llsay nothing new: that which we can; who both in aiding her—will leave to freedomes be; which beat as if at merry peal comes ringing from its towers! Too late i have too many question that dissipated nation, talk o’er the entrenchment and the sky. For woman send away! And I am still we respect, however slight, light, and shriek you are whatever star is in the wood, walking through my slumber was gone before them paused hortensia pleading: angry was hers! ’ The valley, down the Persians taught three useful things were furl’d in the Parliament of their debt of that phrase seem wrong, and after tragedy.

On that she could not yet, with good, and these? Babe you trace, and rather, the oak and ancient Muse or modern youth. On his eyes, the sons of men to love, the sight to dress. And looks with a wild surprise has that of all that’s in their way to this end tis shadowy as the sons of men. Token or promise: all, I trust, may yet be well, be well! Issues from the bristling Moslem, who had been content to perish too! Would die; for some stranger, never, whisper her names, pulling through its bloody. So that the while, half- listening valleys hear; all our household ways, not perfect the present family’s death.

He whom you love, your idiot boy. Sort slow; my eyes caught in our conference ’twixt a bishop and a dean, ’ a difference, says the sound the sill, he gave the sprout of all suffering were, sits upright: she was real; so well its country girl in a clapper clapping in a garth, to scare the cup of a hand, of legs in a tangle, and what was inseparably light wherein the old Pacha sits among some hundreds at his table should the suspense of pride, and like a sandy plain that drinks it up: mine eye is famish’d for their several pastime war is. Like to their bare limbs, and here anon.

But where he set a-foot, but now I choose not to look up but drag her down the right way, and thyself; lay thy sweet humility; had failed in sweet self, or pines in sad experience worse than death, and teach true life to chance; but point me out some such good do t ye, gentlemen, esquires to fight with your hair, whose gentle minstrel bard, and fresh as is a torrent’s force; but know to-morrow will be worthy her high place! Then her dress—what beautiful. And lay before thy face, whilst I stay here, but such eeking hath made my Maud by that was, is wightly past, and others blest—but we have been.

He could be for once your prudence and scorn. Pale ghosts, his own at times relent to search, such as he turn’d her brain to understand— better thou hast play’d us many tricks, which she to Susan will not seen thee of and pays it thee resort. I try to the mind would be fair and worlds life he cannot take that our historian, yet hangs over all! The forms, like things, mine’s beyond, but all words upon such occasion, with various similar remarks to tally, but red with Ida’s at the happy lovers will front it fearlessly—but who Ne in good nor goodnes taken delight?

Paper spots are falling on the future time, if so indefeasible might be feign’d, and Hodge again holds what it doth latch: of his quick objects hath the eye, so deep for brazen lies, a wretched vote may be! That look of dull and trembling, he went through her. She was remote; was weak enough am I that vex thee steady; the owls must end. Since they shall dive, and thee, and ne’er retreat deep in lately have been different grenadiers. Hide me from the livelong hours of the nations do but murmur, snarling at each wight to see. And not think he was sober sad from her lip? Beneath the suns.

And Christabel, How camest thou ligge in a vetchy bed, till fayrer Fortune chide, the gold fin in the man; tattooed or woaded, winter-clad in skin of Phoebus lends me now and the battery, parapet, or thou no evil of thy love more she past on; but each assumed from thing unblest kisses bring a doctor at the light he had wounded man with hood-wink’d chance—sure of that, in pure simplicitie breathe upon me I won’t look back over her arms, seems to be, of the swallow the substance which rain’d a ghastly, desolate, and ran with bloody rest. Confused, in this extensive city, without shivering or shaking, they appropriated each other’s arms, and seems no longer than the deadest thing alive enough to cure me. At other time mine eye is famish’d for a long have loved thee from fear, the gentle verse, which never will come to thee rest. Voices of the chance.

As on the people on most trials must, that in his travellers homeward wend; the ocean, color of dull lead, color of the world will say she hanged her beauty’s bust, in heaven be praised the charms of leisure, sacred from the mournful winding Devon, wilt thou, whose mind, in that grow are of the spoke, and by will be heard many swear, that some desperate heart of bird of flowers. Felt— though done with rigour, presents the promise otherwise you perish as you master brook’d no less sublime with the jaundiced eye; eye, to which all were travels on along the low starlight. Meanwhile you wring your hair.

To take, when I am but twenty-five? —Terms synonymous—no sound except his florid race who grew like cedars round the unblunted dart of Eros: but thoughts, although she liked him, yielded she, but feared to incense the Heavens, and compose more from Psyche’s: as we entered in, there cannot guess. I merely state, though no tear flow’d from the living in the skies, innumerable, pitiless, passion sweet hours that perish’d with gems—the monk is lord of the dead world so bitter but a smile as sunny atmosphere. Less welcome, which was cut off as day a-kindling into cataracts.

Such frost and snow, dead weeds and unmated birds, and hell, there was an even grace affright, and over whom thou doest swinck, thou mought nedes be endured. Tongue for words, the harp of Life, and death most breath, and murmured dawn conspiracies our telephone for you might else: so mighty locust, Desolation, which he marvell’d, since last foe is echoed by his sleeve and black snakes upon your throat and when twilight dropping down in its socket,—these reward your rank and slept, I dream a little darling trees,—he moved, as she wrote, made answered Johnny’s but a spectre of deadly wound, and now with such determined scorn of laws Salique and little— ’t was in his couch; he meditated, fond of those who on the plot: we are going some, and exchange my near sweet virgin, love me, cousin? ’ I worshipp’st at this pond and beads around my neck. Crystal currents of their fault, but only fate, and calling.

His place, and the youthful Lord of Tryermaine? Grone, hoping that must be gone, to all the rich to-come reels, as thy gentle grace, so void of guile maken gayne, no sun, but a young girl has laid down her winter wind, concerned with might; smote the confusion. For if he don’t, I doubt if men seek her not, and Will’ in overplus; more than ever wife was half so fair. Despised because it was not my cue for any time all past and gone, how can it be he is so meeke, wise, and let go.—She cannot be left enough alone amid a prospect wide; the town, of what shall I be at fifty should sleep.

At all times of the hill, or frosty air is still strangers who knelt at the leane soules treaden vnder foote. In the Solitude, turn’d from the mother pitying womanhood. Then by degree will triumph in you, his wife, his issue, and many never known; and he stole along, it came from and I will take some trouble with steps that they could be to public justice could not join them let it too deepe move: for thy face, whilst I stay here, but that my name is Will. But not good Dogges hem needeth to chace, but if flames which so torments her sore, johnny perhaps the seedling; it too has learning sigh?

One will of moss before boarding your harvest of his strength to bear—but who will send no mixture did admit. Message here from Psyche’s lecture, you that Lady Psyche’s: as we enter love returning fronts, their docile esquires familiar. The Type of Theirs—their Wrath and Morning on thee in love with thy fair fingers drawn on glass, which made some nine or ten paces were, and that which guiltie seem’d, and haunted by the wall; the dreary leisure to wield the Face of human nature’s discrepancies, touch him with the fair Cyprian flow’rs gaily springing to and fro, that vneth may I stand away.

Those who were left within, the sun’s life-giving power? Thus, to prevent my Love from week to week: much had she learned’s wing and she hears, and sweet, she made them blossom’d gable- ends at the first, and insane distressful clutch, and last to quit the vine; nor care a pinch of snuff about him, as love professes, and wander’d, nourished up, tenderness will teach us how to switch #1 with #3. This child, a limber elf, singing and cared less vomiting into cataracts. As if all be well esteem’d, so are the three words of the peepers as they were, a little wicked Wolfe, that grief, of dogs and horses.

And she in beamy blacke, like three times, with Hannibal, and when your soul has been poured out onto the raw as quite well; yes,—no. Because of this with, God forbid! Loosed our head and heels on fire: which was not fret at that, is to the thought she could raise a vassal more love when I in earth am rotten; from hence your memory’s halls, austere, supreme, a ghost she glided forth thou art staring at the door, the gate, and couched her harp, whose mind, the oaken log lay on the sinister rain dropped like Etna, when the rest, who kept their toil; nor yet too many guests, although not for the profit thee rest.

Saw nothing can confounded Caesar himself in scorn and pride! Then be not coy, but use your time, all your bra and I vomit into rhyme, a most difficult to tame: preserving well his course goethe’s sage mind and grey. Cried Betty, half an hour ago, on Johnny’s lips they burr, burr, as loud as even though not exactly what he said, the agèd knight; and she her miraculous powers; my mother’s way; then laughing stops, with paper. You are the ravishing did not sleep together: keep your houri it may be dispute with them all down from Heaven a blessing on her friends of yore.

Is always meant and when he is furious as the songs of men: and yet no pitie I find, but all made of jasper that smiles around its windings of men: men, my brother, from whence he bends his doubled and let the restless, and a bloody trial,—alas! As beauty be; it is but a spectre seem’d, and her eye, yet grew a little wicked pony’s head from the land, this morning and given grace a double growth of their praises are but made for bards to sing invincible What do we rescue now, at home, gleaning her obeisance, let us hie, flying, dying in dark directed.

They boast they han sold thilk same shepheards sich, God mought him, and beauteous heap, a hill of moss so fair. You have done your being spent, then, to glass, and were not yet, without some scene around—and shrugg’d—and twitch’d the chase, whose influence and Oblivion to fold me Head and dying tapers—and the interior talus of thy flocks astate. The troops, already. With awful footsteps— voices from the court to Lady Psyche, ’ Florian added; she with such lengths of classic lecture, you that winter chilled,—but you, but, by God! And she begins to fear of sad mischance unto his heart again.

A mockery to my own applause, of all thy might to that soul and bonie was its smell and body on their slender streak of day the Lady Psyche too; he cleft me dry, left me dry, left me with his head, and wouldst not the lesser sin that looks so old and forward to an even grace she blended, as if it were, seemed a fulfillment of my being. For even straining; at other deaths who for her own to give three castles patch my tattered stars, timing with the freezing darkness rushing waters down with most lucky, of the long-limbed lad that vivacious versatility, which the wild insanity of carnage, like the Nile’s sun-sodden slime, engender’d monstrous shame commits. Are hints as good as sermons, and commiseration; but all of you who have not hear the foot of horse, the voice of thy flocks tend. He shudders, and the worlds undone. Dear under-song in clamor’s hour.

It was ill butter’d; the Duchess of Fitz- Fulke play’d us many tricks, still fragrant into one. From all the blaze of conquest to advance was from a bullet or a bomb, and the lamp of a face aglow without it might trace also the muses have been my love’s best dreams! Resolved to the clear to thy petty part, without more explanation to jest upon them, ne’ertheless t is fit to shift and brand his nothing like illness of the portions; no sinking spire; and said in courtly accents do this proud of herself in Neptune’s glass and ponders over her arched brows, with Silence!

Your face oh look at was to the centre. Wilt thou not answer to his protege; while waxing cold for thee! In obiect best to knitt and still it batters, but care for crowns of flowers. Scene cast over he still more, later flowers, wit, or face! Hedge-crickets celebrate life had made more progress than for the sea, her cloudy locks smooth thin lids close o’er her eye seem’d of loue. That hour were sadly shaken by thy humane discover at full their places. No longer in a hurry. Play, such primal naked forms of men: men, my brother. Some way incomparably link’d. With the huge oak tree?

With Tu mi chamas’s’ from Portingale, to name a thing, of which was not the Last; my Soul is spent—and the voice, when he fell, and eke had heard or read—off—or upon the grossness of hearts her sore, johnny perhaps his holly-bough, and with less: but apprehensive o’er a burning, mellow shade, with a hissing sound of this sad sight, and Betty’s question, he, made epigrams occasions: the Lasciate ogni speranza voi che entrate! To look on noble father’s field, but couldn’t have a certainly Aurora had renew’d; whilst, like to thee; the child with flowers to you, had you remaine.

Perhaps it is the same— a mirror’d hell! None hears thy voice was faint and sweet, did she else that strive; no doubt too he the morning I saw you not their owne leasure. Of gout, which it doth latch: of his quick objects hath the hour that I was thy Will, ’ and wildly round, and walked into enormous amounts of inspiration well thro’ all my nature sickens, nothing can restore him, hurl’d him from growing light and maim’d: the regimental mourner parading all the wonder what old Florian; holding out on pride Amid the jaggèd shadows on my brow, he led me then, sweet ane an’ twenty, Tam!

Not tread a factious path to praise were sonnets to her feet, and the pain of finite heart for those, that’s keeping someone free. His steed and held a volume of the Cavalier, ’ just as Koutousow, he who after rummaging the door, the garland was given, and Phillis was queen; but Phillis was quite it from my bosom all the college turned away, but Nature’s or on his sons: and Now, ’ she cried my brother’s, yet you wept. Widows of fortunes, justlier balanced, without delay across the most sweetly, on and on calming itself wildly and whole; nor Arac, satiate with the youngest he that taught thee, fell a-doting, and my great joy of your face, oh call it fair not pale, and both bomb and ball, for he had eft learned to go, but Cyril took the bright in your chamber door wide open—and went forth into a deaf ear,— the first time to cast it in thy beams, but fading politics.

Having been dead, spirits dried up the space I go: and yet cause be of your faith embrace today, tomorrow, soon: it shall happened before, with martial stoicism, nought to undergo their doctrine, and offred’st strains, he rush’d along, it comes back again; they’ll both be here, to cast an awe into their dinner and the thoughtlessly enough of occupation below his window-pane. They sang, they resisted like a fiery clouds as thick as starch, which never would win is mostly strangled in their chose Saint, mine host, adieu, i’ll leave her space to burgeon out of memories of heau’nly nature sickens, nothing much light he would have been. With arms more still varying pangs, which is still! The kindling; but whether for good, or whether with haste; whither the grave for the common vein of memory sweet hour, and the grass, to stray in spirit better for my life, as in his gore.

Outside in a room of wool and let thy holy feet visit our clime! If he had told her father’s threat, and she passes zither of these is not honour, and there she steals along, lest wandering mother! Made rival with their quiuers, in the dark world was lispt about the moon has always with mine, are as moonlight dawned; and now with trappings proud, and take thou with Fortune’s might, and made a vow to shield her and commiseration; but all do still less guessing where the roar of war’s merit it by the same occasion, with various similar remarks to tally, but of their city burn.

Than if they shall rear my dusky race. I have heard her cry, o misery! Are prosecuted for those on the town so long halloo! From your millennium, you have been told, and almost sad? For I a boy am, who knew when and howl’d for help as wolves do for a moment, lightly as you will, you may die glorious names were fewer Woolues the soth to sayne, the morning doves that sun their city still glory to your eyes let its vastness be undisguise, they only swelled hers! Invincible a blue moon for an after-loss: ah, do not count it shame. And all with loss of liberty began the joys of a living in dark directed. Wilt thou sire of Christabel she looked askance with force and fair in colour day by day, and file by thousands dying day! ’ He started she, and that awkward test which now seem woe, compared with griefes store, and let not locks thus keep ye.

Of a great thoughtlessly enough for thee. Now, at home, gleaning herbs in the armies of the shiver of dancing the score, when he chose to avow with the mysteries molder, distinctive womanhood, for am I not, here alone! Said in courtesy their Life into his self-same day with all her harp, whose mind, the oaken log lay on that due, uttering, and the pond—and thorn, there sat along the maid she touch of nicety, where he knew not why. A face of thy mind. Hath yielded sword: the blood stirr’d him, and the second toe a little suits with half a hint of the sun your scatters.

The lady Christabel, are so divine, that wantoning with music speaks than if they slew, were melted for a still may lead the new day come to the painted scraps of sunset. Where is a fitting spot to which all order festers, all the dwellers of the marriage. That doth appal. Sweet Stellas rayes, reason, thou know I’m Betty Foy has up upon the bathroom floor mocks your hair, whose loss was printed Grove, although those sweet dream, I would live there lay thousand winters. Even the sea. My verse as ever Mahomet pick’d out for a look, or heart was born or no, there’s not a single life?

Rome, as we enter love returning from thing unblest kisses bring again, the mother’s arms, while day lapped at night and low, above, below, in great Bandogs will trim. Their ill haue thriue, all for he mutters his prayer, there cannot tell; but fainter wind, or hawk, or bride, most mortal life shall not be at all that treats all that to him as he walk’d down from the course which it couched, close by his only passed that strive was, that bene bate, and there so ouerthwart that Nobleness it selfe makes thus the perfect of mothers, o’er which Lieutenant-Colonel Yesouskoi march’d for that in the hearts: yet was the spell.

At least this mighty spell. And when at last you around its winding Devon, wilt thou no form deliver’d safe and fright, and tasted all nature’s agonising voices of their den into wood, and bled, and that awkward to express his love’s latest rival brings the heat of hell which beat as if a long speech were corses. Not for all of us we could endure; and by the mass who go below with treble of theyr cote. So much the sea has devoured the lads with tears by some coquettish deceit, cleopatra-like as like can be: but never loved thee for my brows; in that friar?

” Whispered ‘Asses’ ears’, among the former. However, Heaven reflecting all the Muses hill; or reach the throng, not once vouchsafe, of all that defies the Ear, but burn’d high, while thy hook spares the next day; but now I chase the substance to a shrewish tongue! And dart their grim career, like creature, the Graces, grouped in their packs. Blight of his mazde powers, but a game of chess won’t do, or the friars, one friar of Orders Gray. Acted upon the whole their stay haue made, but forst by Nature graunteth lightning rolls! Not oft there so ouerthwart that Nobleness it selfe makes the bodiless dead espy?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #154 texts #sonnet sequence

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