#may she never breathe again AMEN !!!!!

[malikselfindulgence]

Being the bigger person and emailing my mom's inactive email "kys" instead of saying it to her face directly

[r0ugesun]

Guilty as sin

“What If the way you hold me is actually what’s holy?”

warnings — nsfw, religious imagery, Catholic guilt, finger fuck!ng, blowjob, misuse of the confessional, porn with plot, slow burn ooc(?) aemond

Pairings: Priest!Aemond x Reader

Synopsis: Father aemond, a devoted Catholic priest, is steadfast in his vows until a beautiful new parishioner, you, begins visiting his confessional regularly. Each visit is filled with whispered confessions of sin, making it increasingly difficult for him to keep his promise of celibacy and his composure and commitment to his faith. As your confessions become more personal, Father Aeomond finds himself battling intense feelings of desire and guilt, questioning his faith and the very vows that define his life. he grapples with his sacred duty and the forbidden attraction that threatens to consume him.

“Father hear my prayer, witness my devotion”

In the hushed stillness of the dawn, Father Aemond knelt beneath the towering crucifix, where the desolate visage of Christ hung suspended in eternal torture. His hands, gently held an emerald rosary, pressed together in fervent prayer, he whispered supplications into the fabric of the divine. The bright, golden glow of countless candles bathed the church in a holy luminescence, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows upon the stone walls. The smoke of frankincense and myrrh swirled through the air, mingling with the first few rays of light shining through the stained glass.

It’s been years since Father Aemond was sent away to the priesthood by his mother to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather, he didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to leave his home, but seeing his mothers furrowed brow desperate tears in her eyes at having lost his brother Aegon to Satans grasp, he hung his head low and allowed her to place her boundless hope and faith onto him he didn’t want to disappoint her, he didn’t want to see her pained expression of seeing another son following the same dark path.

He found succor in the Lord and he was content with placing all his sorrows onto him.

Meditation prayer and penance

that’s all he needed, nothing more nothing less, he’d place everything in gods hands and in turn the Lord provided.

“May your will be done through me your faithful servant, amen”

Father Aemond rose slowly from his knees, He brushed off his cassock, the fabric rustling softly in the quiet sanctuary.

With a deep breath, he moved towards the grand wooden doors at the entrance, his worn keys jingling softly in his hand. As he walked sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on him as he turned the heavy iron key in the lock, preparing to welcome the day's congregation.

Father Aemond stood at the front of the church, watching as the congregation filled the pews, familiar faces offering him warm smiles and nods, the small children hid behind their mothers skirts unnerved by his eyepatch and tall slender figure, he didn’t mind it too much, the congregations quiet murmures creating a gentle hum that echoed off the stone walls.

His eye swept over the crowd, offering silent prayers for each familiar face. Just as he was about to turn towards the altar and begin, the heavy wooden doors creaked open again, and a woman stepped inside. She was unlike anyone he had ever seen in his humble parish.

She was beautiful—sinfully beautiful. Her h/c hair was covered by a delicate red veil that cascaded down her back, and her eyes, there was a hint of sadness to them, they looked slightly tired and weary but it did nothing to blanket her beauty, she scanned the room before settling on him. She moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, her presence commanding attention without a word.

Father Aemond’s heart skipped a beat, a feeling of unease mingling with an inexplicable attraction. He watched as she took a seat near the back, her gaze never leaving him. Shaking off his discomfort, he reminded himself of his duty and the sanctity of his calling.

As the service began, he couldn't help but glance in her direction, the mystery of her appearance nagging at the edges of his thoughts. Who was she? Where did she come from? Why did she come?

He pushed those thoughts away and focused on the service.

Father Aemond sat in the dimly lit confessional booth. He had been here countless times, offering absolution to his parishioners, guiding them back to the path god wanted for them. Yet today, something was different.

The screen softly slid open, revealing the shadowy outline of a woman. You spoke soft and melodic.

“Bless me father for I have sinned”

Aemond’s heart quickened. He didn’t recognize the voice. It must belonged to the new parishioner, the beauty he had seen at Mass, your presence both a distraction and a source of deep unease for him.

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

“It’s been….years, Father,” you admit. “I have strayed far from gods light”

He could feel your gaze, even through the screen, and it unsettled him, he grasped his rosary tighter in his hand.

“Tell me what burdens your soul my child”

You hesitated, then began to speak of your sins

Your voice trembling with vulnerability.

“Father I-I have sinned greatly, I’ve left my husband and my home”

Aemond felt a pang of surprise.

“Why did you leave him?”

Your voice began to shake.

“For years, I endured his anger, his cruelty…. H-his indiscretion’s…. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to leave or I feared I would lose my sanity.”

Aemond’s heart ached for her.

“I found comfort in the arms of another man. I’ve committed adultery…. I gave my body to him… thought it would ease my pain and loneliness, it did temporarily but now I just feel more alone than I’ve ever had.”

Aemond’s breath caught. The vivid images her words conjured plucked at his own hidden desires. Flashes of your face contorted in pleasure, your thighs trembling under his hips…. He clenched his rosary even tighter, forcing himself to remain composed.

“Adultery is a grave sin,”

he said, his voice heavy.

“But God is slow to anger and quick to forgive. True repentance can lead to forgiveness.”

“I wanted to feel loved, Father,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I want to feel held, I cannot push away these desires and it scares me.”

He could hear the sob in your voice, the shame. And yet, the way you spoke, the unintentional seductiveness in your words, made it hard for him to think clearly.

“The important thing is to seek forgiveness and to resist these temptations.”

He said trying to keep his composure

“But what if I can’t?” You asked, your voice filled with despair.

“What if my desire is too strong? What if i seek…comfort again?”

Aemond’s pulse quickened.

“You must pray for the will to resist falling into your desires, true pleasure is in Gods light, you will never be alone in his arms”

Was he saying this to you or himself?? He didn’t know anymore.

“Thank you, Father. your words comforted me”

As you left the confessional, Aemond remained, his head bowed. He exhaled a shaky breath His heart was a storm of conflicting emotions—guilt, longing, and a desperate need for penance. He whispered a prayer, not only for you but for himself. For the strength to resist, for the grace to overcome his own lust, and for the will to remain steadfast in his vows.

He looked down at his hands, the rosary he was holding was now dripping blood from his hand.

Over the next few weeks Father Aemond found himself anticipating your presence more than he cared to admit. You continued to attend mass regularly, your beauty a fresh assault on his vows. Your confessional sessions grew longer and more personal, the line between priest and penitent eroding with every shared secret. Aemond knew he was endangering his sacred duty, still he found himself in your company once again.

In the church gardens, the air was perfumed by the rich scent of roses, you often walked together after your confessions. Your conversations ranged from mundane topics to the profound, each exchange drawing you both closer.

As you walked, the setting sun cast a warm glow over everything.

"You've become such an important part of my life," you admitted, your voice vulnerable . "I feel like I can tell you anything."

Father Aemond's heart pounded in his chest. "You know I'm here for you," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and something deeper. "Always."

You stopped walking and turned to face him, your eyes searching his. "But what about you, Aemond? Who do you talk to? Who listens to your confessions?"

He hesitated, the weight of his own unspoken feelings pressing down on him. "God always listens to my confessions, always." he replied.

You stepped closer, your hand reaching out to gently touch his his. "Yes but, even you should have someone listen and answer.”

Your touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he found himself unable to look away from her eyes. "I… God answers me in his own way y/n” but the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.

You sighed and caressed his hands with your thumb, adding insult to his already aching heart.

“What a beautiful rosary” you said not wanting to press further, something he was thankful for

“Thank you it was a gift from my mother” he said, you gently touched the emerald beads making his heart flutter.

He took in your form with his good eye, you were…. Divine, if we were made in gods image then you were surely carved from his best parts, he thought.

his lips parted slightly and he felt his cheeks flush and in that moment, he knew there was no turning back. The guilt and shame surged, but so did a deep, undeniable love. Father Aemond grit his teeth, he prayed,but this time, it was not for strength to resist you, but for forgiveness.

Father Aemond sat alone in the dimly lit confessional booth, the flickering candles casting long shadows on the walls. It was late, and the rain outside had started as a gentle patter but had now grown into a relentless downpour. The usual steady stream of parishioners had come and gone, leaving him to his thoughts.

He wasn’t expecting anyone else to come tonight. The storm would keep most people indoors, and he welcomed the quiet solitude to reflect and pray. But as he sat there, he heard the heavy church door creak open. He straightened, surprised that anyone would venture out in such weather.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the empty church, growing louder as they approached the confessional. The door to the adjoining booth opened and closed softly. Father Aemond held his breath, recognizing the familiar presence even before you spoke.

"Aemond, it’s me," your voice trembled

"Y/n you're drenched," he said, concern lacing his tone. "Why are you out in this storm?"

"I had to see you," you replied. "I couldn't wait."

He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. "What is it, my child?"

There was a long pause, thunder clapping loudly and the rain pounding against the church windows. Then, your voice came, barely above a whisper.

“Father Aemond I’ve sinned greatly”

you said voice cracking “my thoughts wander at mass….I’ve been having indecent thoughts….thoughts about a person who’s shown me kindness and I can’t stop these feelings”

you recall how father Aemond would lick his pointer and middle finger before turning a page of the Bible during his sermons, making you instinctively rub your thighs together in the pews.

“I-I’ve been….relieving myself while thinking of him…these desires are consuming me”

Father Aemond's heart raced, and he felt his cock beginning to twitch. He knew what he should say, tell you to resist these carnal desires but he didn’t, he couldn’t.

“Continue” he said trying to keep his voice from shaking.

You continued, your voice breaking. "I know it's wrong but…but I-i” you tried to stop the sob that escaped you, but the shame was too much.

“You what??” he said desperately.

“Father aemond I'm in love with you”

He could feel your desperation, your vulnerability. The rain outside seemed to echo his own inner turmoil, a tempest of feelings he could no longer suppress. He tore open the small wooden panel that separated you both, revealing your tear-streaked face and thin dress clinging to your skin.

You looked up at him shocked, before you could speak he pulled you up and kissed you harshly.

In that moment, all his vows, all his promises seemed to dissolve under the intensity of your kiss. Hungry wet kisses echoed in the booth until he pulled away from you, you stood facing each other, gasping for air the dim light casting a halo around your wet figure.

"I love you too," he admitted, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I've tried to fight it, but I can't."

He closed the distance between you again, and pulled your wet body flush against his, the warmth of his body against yours was a sensation he'd only dared to dream of. As he pressed his lips to yours in a sloppy kiss, he felt his cock harden, he lifted the skirt of your dress quickly and started fingering your wet folds.

“I wanted this for so long..” he said quietly.

“A-Aemond!” You cried out, this encouraged him to speed up, he rubbed fast circles around your clit, Causing your thighs to shake in pleasure.

Aemond captured your lips again, it was urgent and breathless, filled with all of the desires he tried so hard to resist. It was a surrender and a claiming all at once, he was unraveling, your melodic moans more beautiful than any hymn, the taste of rain on your skin felt like the holy water that sanctified this union.

He couldn’t take much more he needed to take you fully, he pulled his cock out from his breaches but before he would shove himself inside you he breathed out,

“Do you truly want this?….with me?”

You looked into his eye, there was so much love and desperation and you just wanted to be loved, you didn’t want to be alone anymore, even if it meant straying away from gods kingdom.

“I want this…with you and only you”

He didn’t waste anytime, he flipped you around and ripped your soaking wet dress from your body, you moaned in approval, you felt him lining his cock against your entrance, you held your breath in anticipation, shuddering when you felt his lithe hands grip your hips…. and then he was fucking you, in and out, in and out.

Both of your moans filled the air, intertwining and harmonizing like a choir, each note a blend of passion and desperation, the melody you made together resonated through the empty church.

The pleasure you felt when you felt the drag of his cock slamming in and out of you was what you could only describe as divine, you looked back behind your shoulder and moaned louder, he looked like an angel like this, you thought, his white hair clinging to the sweat on his forehead and his face held an almost pained expression like one of the saints in the stained glass windows.

He groaned “just like that, just like that take me in all the way”

He plunged himself deep inside you, relishing in the tight embrace of your pussy. With one hand, he lifted your leg, gripping your thigh as he fucked into you with increasing urgency. Your body, overwhelmed with ecstasy, couldn’t hold back any longer. You cried out his name in bliss, feeling the tension snap.

Finally, waves of pleasure crashed over you, your clit pulsing in delight as you let out a passionate moan. You writhed on his lap, riding the high of your climax, before slowly and shakily detaching yourself from his cock and sinking to your knees.

Aemond gazed down at you panting, his chest heaving with desire. He tenderly caressed your cheek with his thumb and brushed a strand of your hair from your flushed cheek, his touch loving and possessive. You were down on your hands and knees for him, not in prayer but in a fervent act of worship of a different kind, one he eagerly accepted.

You took his cock into your mouth, locking eyes with him intensely. A low groan escaped his lips as he couldn't resist gripping your hair, his desire palpable, he tried to stop his hips from bucking into your mouth but when you moaned around him he couldn’t help himself. You continued your ministrations bobbing your head up and down increasing your speed when his moans grew louder.

“Y-Y/n I’m close”

He gazed at you with fervent desire in his half lidded eye as you took him deeper, this made his cock twitch, igniting a fire within him. You looked so beautiful like this, you closed your eyes and moaned deeply, the sight was too much for him unable to contain himself any longer, he surrendered completely, he moaned out your name, pouring his hot cum into your eager mouth, which you gladly swallowed.

As both of you were panting, breaths mingling in the air, he gently pulled you into his lap, cradling you close against his chest. His touch was tender yet possessive, as he kissed your forehead softly, his hands caressing your back in a loving embrace.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice laced with concern, he held you close, your knees drawn up against him.

You lifted your head from his chest, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “I’m okay” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your hearts, He kissed your forehead in reply.

the storm outside seemed to grow louder, The windows rattled as though struck by an unseen hand, furious and unyielding.

Aemond pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, the enormity of what he had done crashing down upon him. The storm's fury seemed to intensify, the thunder rolling like the wrath of god himself.

He looked into your eyes, filled with love and fear, with the storm raging outside. He held you close, as if seeking solace in your presence, each flash of lightning a reminder of his failure to his sacred duties. The rain, once gentle and purifying, now felt like a torrent of divine tears, weeping for the sacred vow he had shattered.

“Forgive me, father” he pleaded in his head “For failing you, for failing y/n.”

You gently squeezed his hand, as if reading his thoughts. Neither of you could predict the future, but as the storm eased and sunlight broke through the clouds, he knew deep down that everything would be alright as long as you were together.

Thank you for reading I hope you liked it :> sorry if too ooc

[lunii-tunes]

God Saved Me

Looking back, it's incredible to consider how much turmoil entered my life through those who opposed me, challenging my faith. I've faced many trials, but it was only a few months back that I was hit with intense depression. The combination of being overworked, facing deceit, lies, and the loss of a loved one all at once was overwhelming. One day, this culminated in a panic attack while I was in the back room at work. Suicidal thoughts started creeping up on me. Telling me, "Everything will be easier if you just end it here and now."

But that "end it here and now" wasn't the conclusion of my tale. With every ounce of breath and strength remaining, I clasped my hands together and prayed.

"God, I'm struggling to breathe. Father, I beg you. Help me to breathe. Lift this weight from my chest so, I may breathe freely once more. In Jesus name I pray, Amen."

As I wiped away my tears and took a deep breath, a profound sense of relief swept through me. The weight on my chest lifted, freeing my breath once again. It was as though the chaos had never happened. I was surrounded by a sense of freedom, peace, and comfort. God not only eased my pain but also sent someone to my workplace. Coming up from behind, she tapped my shoulder gently and said, "I don't know what you're going through, and there's no need to tell me, but may I pray for you?" Looking up with hope, I agreed, "That would be lovely." She hugged me close and prayed aloud in front of my boss, my coworker, and other clients, as I found myself weeping on her shoulder. This marked the beginning of my complete faith that God was present, saving and protecting me. It was at that moment I chose to dedicate my life to Christ.

Since that time, my life has overflowed with joy, peace, and happiness, even though the enemy occasionally tempts me to revert to my old ways. As I strive to draw nearer to God and strengthen my relationship with Him, I witness more of His blessings in my life. No number of thank-yous or hallelujahs could adequately express the glory of His amazing presence. His love, patience, kindness, grace, mercy and so much more are unparalleled. All I can offer are my stories and testimonies of the greatness he has brought into my life, with the promise of more to follow.

The client who prayed for me left a Bible scripture to help me through life's trials and struggles, which I will share here for anyone in need.

Psalms 91:

"Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” Surely, he will save you  from the fowler’s snare  and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. You will only observe with your eyes and see the punishment of the wicked. If you say, “The Lord is my refuge,” and you make the Most High your dwelling, no harm will overtake you, no disaster will come near your tent. For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone. You will tread on the lion and the cobra; you will trample the great lion and the serpent. “Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call on me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life I will satisfy him and show him my salvation.”

[kazuki86]

Birthday Gift

Helloooo everyone!!!

I know this is too late to give a birthday gift for tenzo 🙏

But wiseman said that it's better late than never, right? 😅

So, this is my birthday gift for the kakashi's soulmate and my new kakayama fic for all of you guys!

Happy reading, hope you like it 🥰

********

9 pm, inside his apartment, tenzo sit on his knees on the floor. In front of him, on a table, there was a small cake, a birthday cake, with one small candle on top of it.

Tenzo took a breath, then exhaled slowly. He took a lighter, next to the cake, then lit the candle. Tenzo put the lighter back, then clasped his hands together and closed his eyes.

"Dear God, today is my 13th birthday. I've never celebrated my birthdays before, neither when aunt Tsunade was still alive nor after she passed away. So this is my first time..." Tenzo silend for a moment, then continuoud it.." People say to make a wish before blowing the candle, so the wish will come true. I don't know if it's true or not...but...I wish...I wish I can have a friend. I have mochi, but she is a cat. I mean a human friend...maybe a close one...so I won't feel lonely anymore...Amen..." Then he blew the candle.

Shortly after the candle flame went out, there were knock knock at the door. Tenzo was a little surprised. He opened his eyes and looked at the clock on the wall. Who comes at this time of night? he thought.

Tenzo went towards the door and opened it. It turns out there was no one. But there was something on the floor. A box. Not big. Wrapped neatly, with navy blue paper and a red ribbon on top and a card.

A package? A gift? Is this for me? Of whom? But....I asked a friend... A human friend...how could a human be wrapped in a small box like this?

Tenzo took the box, then read the writing on the card. Oh... apparently the box wasn't for him. The box was intended for the room next to his room. Tenzo didn't know who lived next door to his room. Tenzo had never seen or met the people who lived there, even though their rooms were next to each other. But, whoever it is, Tenzo still has to hand over the box.

So Tenzo stepped up and knocked on the door of the next room. No answer. Tenzo knocked once again. And the door opened. There was a teenage boy, his body was taller than Tenzo, with thick silver hair that covered his left eye and a mask that covered half of his face. So only his right eye is visible. Her appearance is quite mysterious, thought Tenzo.

"Yes?" The teenage boy asked in a flat intonation.

"Um...I'm sorry for bothering you late night...but I guess this box belongs to you...someone put it by mistake in front of my room..." said Tenzo with a shy smile.

"Thank you..." the teenage boy answered briefly.

Tenzo handed over the box and the teenage boy accepted it.

"Oh...did your finger hurt?" Tenzo asked when he saw the boy's bleeding thumb and index finger.

"Oh... just a small wound... pricked by a cactus thorn..."

"Cactus thorns?"

"Well... I don't know why my cactus, which was green, turned brown. I tried to check it and accidentally got pricked by its thorns..."

"Oh...I see. May I see the cactus? I quite like plans so I know a little bit about cactus. Maybe I can help you..." said Tenzo.

The teenage boy thought for a moment..."Fine, come in..." he answered invitingly. Tenzo goes inside. He glanced at the teenage boy's apartment. There's not that much stuff in it. But everything is neatly arranged.

"Over here..." said the teenage boy. He walked towards the TV table. Tenzo took off his sandals then followed him. Right next to the TV there is a cactus in a pot.

"This is the cactus..." said the teenage boy. Tenzo stepped closer and looked at the cactus. Some of the colors are still green, but others are brown. Tenzo then looked around. The TV table is far from the window.

"Do you always put this cactus here?"

"Yes..."

"How many times did you water it?"

"Everyday of course...don't plants need water?"

Tenzo smiled. "I am sure that your cactus is getting too much water and not enough sunlight..."

"What?" Even though most of his face was covered, Tenzo could see that the teenage boy looked surprised and confused.

"The cactus doesn't need to be watered every day, because basically it is a plant that lives in barren areas, and because of that it also needs sunlight. The brown part shows that it is almost rotting..."

"Oh...no...is there anything we can do to safe it?:

"I think we can still keep it safe..." said Tenzo, smiling kindly. "Do you have paper and knife?"

"Paper and knife? I do. Wait...I'll take them..."

After receiving the paper and knife, Tenzo then took the cactus out of the pot by slowly wrapping the paper around it. Then he checked the stem and roots, then cut the black roots with a knife.

After that, Tenzo placed the cactus near the window. "This cactus must be dried in the sun to dry for several days. Once it is completely dry, plant it back in the pot. Just put the pot here so it gets light, and water it only once a week."

The teenage boy was truly impressed with what Tenzo did to save his cactus. "Thank you..." he said.

"No problem..." answered Tenzo with a friendly smile. Suddenly, the teenage boy with thick silver hair and a mask felt his face warm.

"Umm...are you okay?" Tenzo asked.

"Hmm...?"

"Your face...althouugh it's masked...I think it turns a little bit red..."

"What??? Really???" The teenage boy clearing his throat "I am fine.."

"Are your fingers still hurt?"

"Um...yeah...a little..."

"Do you have any medicine and bandage? Your wound could become infected if it is not cleaned and treated immediately..."

"Um...I don't have any of that..."

"I have some...what if you come to my room?"

"Umm...alright..."

A few moments later, the silver-haired teenage boy was sitting in Tenzo's TV room. Tenzo came out of the bathroom carrying a medicine box. He then sat next to the teenager.

"May I?" Tenzo asked.

The silver-haired teenager stretched out his right hand reluctantly. He watched how Tenzo carefully cleaned and treated the wounds on his fingers. And when Tenzo touched his hand, he felt....comfortable.

"Well, it's done..." said Tenzo.

"Thank you..."

"No problem..." answered Tenzo with a friendly smile.

"Um...is that a birthday cake?"

"Oh...yes it is..." Tenzo laughed awkwardly. He just remembered that the birthday cake and candle were still on the table.

"Are you...celebrating a birthday?"

"I am...."

"Whose birthday?"

Tenzo laughed awkwardly again. "Mine...."

"Alone?"

"Um...not really...with mochi actually..."

"Mochi?"

My cat..." said Tenzo while pointing to the doormat in front of his room, a fat calico cat was sleeping on it.

"Oh...I see..." said the teenage boy, smiling behind his mask.

"Do you want some cake? How about we taste the birthday cake?" Tenzo asked.

"Okay..."

Tenzo went to the kitchen, took two small plates and two forks, then cut the cake into two pieces, put one piece of each on a plate and gave one of them to the teenager.

"Thanks..." answered the teenager while receiving the plate. He then took off his mask and started eating the cake. For a moment, Tenzo was amazed to see the teenager's face. It turns out his face is...handsome. Tenzo felt his cheeks warm.

"Something wrong? I think your face is red now?" said the teenager.

Tenzo became embarrassed.

"Oh...Um...nothing. How is the cake?" asked Tenzo.

"Actually, I don't really like sweets, but this cake is delicious..."

"Glad you like it...Umm...I didn't see anyone else in your apartment earlier, do you live alone?"

"I do... I don't see anyone else besides that cat here? Do you live alone too?

"Yeah... Previously I lived in another apartment with my aunt. Two months ago she died and after that I moved here because the rent here is cheaper..."

"Oh...I'm sorry..."

"It's okay... How about you? Why do you live alone?"

"Actually, I'm not from here. I live with my father in another city. I moved here because... there are a lot of sad memories there... I wanted a change of scenery..."

"I see...By the way, since when do you like cactus?"

"Oh...actually the cactus belonged to a friend. He died a few months ago. He saved me when I was almost hit by a car driven by a drunk. His name was Obito. The cactus was a gift from a girl he really liked, who was also my friend, her name was Rin. Rin died last year due to cancer. The cactus held the memories of the two of them, so I decided to take care of it... but it turns out I'm not good at taking care of it..."

Silence...

"If you need my help to care for the cactus, just let me know. I will help you..."

"Thanks a lot... I'm sorry for talking too much...."

"No, it's fine..."

"It feels a bit strange...

"Strange?"

"Usually I don't like to talk a lot, especially with people I've just met... But I feel comfortable talking to you..." said the teenager with a smile. Tenzo blushed, he hopped his brunet hair was long enough to hide his face. "I think it's already late, I have to go back to my room..."

"Oh...you're right..."

"Thanks a lot..." said the silver-haired teenager go back to his room

"You're welcome." Tenzo answered while closing the door.

Tenzo sighed. He turned around and leaned against the door. He never thought that today he would meet his neighbor. But he felt happy.

Suddenly...knock knock...again.

Tenzo was surprised. Who else, now? he thought. He also opened the door.

"Hi again! I am sorry for bothering you...but it's funny...you've helped me a lot and we've talked to each other...but I haven't even told you my name, and I don't know yours. My name is Kakashi..."

Tenzo chuckled. "I also just realized... my name is Tenzo..."

"Well Tenzo...happy birthday..."

"Oh...thanks..." Tenzo smiled and blushed.

"And this is for you...for my thanks and birthday gift..." Kakashi gave Tenzo a small bell. "This is from the box earlier. Two bells belonged to my mentor, Minato Sensei. It seems he wrote the room number wrong so the box was placed in front of your room. Because there are 2 bells, I'll give one to you. I hope you like it." Kakashi said smiling behind his mask.

"Oh...this is very nice. Thank you so much, kakashi."

"You're welcome. So, see you...tomorrow?" Kakashi asked.

"See you tomorrow..." replied Tenzo smiling.

That day was the first time Tenzo celebrated his birthday. The first time he got a gift. And the gift is very special. A friend, not just a friend, but the closest one.

Happy Birthday Tenzo!

[xxmyhomexx]

SONG OF THE CRIMSON NILE: Drowning

I have a headcannon about Eva and Amen...again. I believe that Amen would know she's a sheshmu too!

Eva is at the same spot that she discovered Isman's body, staring out into the horizon. She's having trouble coming to terms with her beloved soulmate's death, wishing that she could have at least said goodbye.

However, suddenly, she sees him rise out of the water. He looks healthy, he is smiling, holding out his arms for her. Eva is in shock because she SAW HIS BODY, and backs away.

But this "Isman" tells her that it is cold without her, and he doesn't understand why she is pulling away. Eva convinces herself it isn't real, but stops when Isman tells her that life isn't worth living if she can't join him. He asks her if she's happy with her friends, and accuses her of abandoning memories of them together.

"No!" She denies fiercely. "I never forgot! I just..."

"Eme," Isman smiles. "We can still be happy...if you just come home."

He opens his arms for her, beckoning and imploring. Eva starts to remember their childhood, and how they'd laugh, cry, and hold each other when the nightmares of her abuse started to unfold. She hisses in a breath, and reaches for him. Tears well up, and she wraps herself in an embrace that pulls her into the river.

"I'll never leave," she declares. "We're together again, my brother."

Meanwhile, her friends begin to wonder where she is. Remmao, Livius, Agnia, and Ramesses come upon the water, but don't find her. Amen catches up, wondering where that rebellious neferut is. However, he notices that the water is still.

The group believes that they need to turn back, but Amen's eyes bug when he sees silk start to rise to the surface. He knows Eva's wardrobe choices, sprinting into the water.

"Epistates, wait! The tide!"

It is too late. Amen swims and swims, desperately trying to find her through the murky blue depths. He sees a shape sinking, and notices it is HIS neferut. Dark shadows are pulling her under, wrapped around her feet in tendrils. He swims toward her, fighting the darkness by pulling out his knife from his belt.

After a short struggle, he manages to break her free and swim to the surface. They are soaked to the bone, and Eva isn't responding. Chest compression after chest compression, he gives her mouth-to-mouth until she gasps and sits up suddenly, coughing up a mouthfull of water.

Her breathing is labored and her eyes are wide. "Wh-what..."

When everyone catches up, they are all in shock. They try to run over to them, but Amen warns them not to get close.

"STAY BACK!" He roars. "All of you! Get away!"

"But, sir, if I may. She is my student." Remmao tries to walk up, but Amen's warning gaze and coaxing from Ramesses tells him that he is not welcomed.

Before Eva knows it, Amen scoops her in his arms.

"Evthys," his voice is soft. "You're ok, you're ok."

His eyes fill with relief as he cups her face, pushing her wet locks aside. In his arms, she is still in shock. She tries to compose herself, but breaks down in heavy sobs.

"Sssshhh..." Amen comforts her.

"I saw Isman," she sobbed. "It was the darkness! THE DARKNESS! It pulled me under!"

"Don't think about that now," he holds her even closer. "I have you. My sweet neferut."

Like a child, she wraps her arms around him as he lifts her, walking past the group without a second glance.

[ikeromantic]

You already know I can't resist making just one celebration request so Could I pretty please with a cherry on top get Sasuke, Beauty 🥰? Thank you in advance, and congratulations on 1k followers (lol I said subscribers on my other ask, like your blog is a literary otome magazine 😆) Cheers to another 1k followers!

Hehehe you know I didn't even catch that. An otome literary fanzine would be pretty cool though. There probably already is one and I just don't know about it xD Well, anyway, here's some adorable Sasuke being too sweet for approx. 800 words.

Sasuke pushed aside another branch and waved away the cloud of gnats that flew into the gap. This trip was turning into quite the hike unexpectedly. But the road he intended to take was washed out and now he and Mai were forging their own path through the valley. On a map, it looked like a shortcut but in reality, it was kilometers of thick undergrowth that took a lot of time to navigate.

“Are we there yet,” Mai called from behind him. She was breathing hard but still smiling, her cheeks red with effort and the heat of a summer afternoon.

“It depends on what you mean by there,” the ninja countered. 

She laughed and stopped for a moment, leaning against a tree. “That wasn’t philosophical.”

Sasuke’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. “Oh? Well if we’re being literal . . . I guestimate another hour of this before we’re around the blockage and back on the road. Maybe two.”

“Ugh. Well, it’s not like we can call an Uber. I just hope there’s a bath and a really soft bed at the other end of this.”

“The odds of both are high.” Sasuke let her pass under the branch he held and then let it go. He hoped he was right about the town they were headed to. It was technically a work trip, so amenities were not a guarantee. If the facilities were lacking, he would make it up to her, he thought. 

Spoiling Mai was one of his favorite hobbies. Right up there with hanging out with his BFF and fanboy-ing the warlords. He knew all of her favorite foods, the bands she liked (but couldn’t listen to anymore), tv shows (same), colors, fabrics and . . . other things.

“Hey. Why are you smiling like that?” She glanced at him over her shoulder, catching him in the middle of a naughty grin. 

“No reason.” He pushed his glasses up on his nose and sped up to walk in front again. The smile stayed put as he navigated past thorn bushes and found paths around clusters of brush. 

They found the road again just as the sun began to set. It looked like they would arrive in town just after dark. Hopefully early enough to get a good meal and that bath he knew Mai would want. 

As they stepped out onto the smooth, packed dirt, she went a little ahead of him. Mai stretched up on her toes, reaching toward the blushing sky. Her hair hung in a braid, with the loose bits sweat-stuck to her forehead and the nape of her neck. A few leaves and twigs stuck out from her hair and clothes, and mud stained her hem. Sasuke was certain he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. 

“You are giving me a look again.” She dropped her hands to her hips. 

“Can’t help it.” The golden light set off the tint of her skin and made her eyes glow. He still couldn’t understand how a woman like her fell for a man like him. But he was so glad she had. Sasuke closed the distance between them in a few steps. “I can’t take my eyes off you.”

Mai blushed, staining her cheeks an even darker hue. “You’ve been spending too much time with Shingen. Are you going to ask me if I’m a thief next?”

“A thief?”

“Yeah, because I stole your heart.” 

Sasuke laughed. “No. You can’t steal something when I gave it to you already.” Which was also probably something Shingen could say. Well, you couldn't top the flirt-master. He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “I love getting to look at you every day.”

“Even when I’m filthy and sweaty and probably covered in bugs and dirt?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Especially then. You’re like a wild forest fairy today. Though, I don’t believe in fairies. But the fairy is an accurate comparison, as a literary device to denote -”

Mai kissed him, silencing the lecture with her sweet, salty lips. When she pulled back, she tapped him on the nose. “Sometimes you explain too much. You can stop at ‘fairy’.”

Sasuke felt his heart skip a beat at the love in her eyes right then. He chuckled and nodded. “Noted.” His thumb stroked her knuckles on the hand he still held. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Hmmm. I don’t know. Let’s weigh the pros and cons.” She nibbled her lower lip thoughtfully. “Pros, you are a really good kisser. And I like being kissed. That about covers it. Then cons. The cons are -” Mai paused. “Well, actually, I can’t think of any cons.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” When he kissed her again, he felt as if he were flying. All of his tiredness disappeared in the softness of her lips and the feel of her in his arms.

[spookychick78]

End Of The Line

Chapter 14: You Should Probably Leave

Thomas Hewitt X AFAB!OC

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3,480

Hoyt pulled into the drive with his self satisfied grin glued to his face as per usual. He parked the car in front of the house and picked up his can of dip as he watched the family's shadows through the windows. They were in the kitchen, cooking from what it looked like. Tommy must have been in the basement, the two silhouettes were far too small to be him. It was Mama and the girl. His grin faded as soon as he saw her. He shoved a good amount of tobacco into his lip and threw the can back down in the passenger seat with force. His lip curled as he watched her set the table alongside Mama. He despised how comfortable they looked together now. Mama was just about as soft on her as Tommy was, he thought to himself. It wasn't unlike her to pick up strays, he should have known she'd end up cozying up to her eventually, just as she did Tommy. Only Tommy fit in easier. He was moldable, he didn't resist like the girl did. Tommy may not have been blood, but he knew his place. At least he did until she came along and batted her siren eyes at him. She knew what she was doing, she'd dug a hole in the boy's head and buried herself in deep. She had taken control of the strings Hoyt always had such a tight grip on. He was her dog now, that was apparent in his belligerent need to undermine him at every angle. Now it seemed she was wrapping a leash around Mama too. He saw that clear enough that morning before he'd left. Mama wouldn't even look at him. She'd never cared what he did to the toys he brought home before, but now her discomfort was evident. She cared about the girl as if she was the daughter he knew she would have rather had instead of him. He'd been replaced yet again, only she wasn't like Tommy. She didn't know her place, in fact she refused to step in line. She wasn't moldable, she was a problem. If the lesson he taught her the night before hadn't sunk in, he had a few more tricks up his sleeve. Or maybe he'd just let her starve herself to death. He couldn't be blamed by Mama or Tommy, that would be her own doing.

He threw the car door open at let his boots hit the ground hard. He stood up and adjusted his belt buckle before he spit a good amount of dip out. He could smell dinner and his grin returned as he began his walk inside. He pushed the door open and hung his hat before he made his way to the kitchen. Mama and the girl were plating the night's meal silently, though he could tell they'd only gone quiet because he'd entered the room. He leaned over Ronnie's shoulder to take a whiff of the meat she'd just set down.

"Sure smells good, don't it," he said as he lingered by her ear.

He caught her wearing a grin of her own as she spoke, "Sure does."

His eyes narrowed at her oddly pleasant tone. She turned her head to look at him as she handed him the plate.

"Why don't you take a seat?" She said.

He gave her a suspicious once over before he turned to Mama, who seemed to be acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. He didn't like that look on Ronnie's face, she was irritating him more than usual.

"Hoyt, take the plate and have a seat," Mama ordered.

He scoffed as he took it from her hands and strode over to his chair. Thomas lumbered in and sat with him, as did Ronnie and the rest of the family. They waited patiently for him to say grace. He slowly pushed the chair back and stood as he studied each of them with mistrust.

"Let's bow our heads," he muttered.

She still had that grin on her face as she closed her eyes and faced the ground. He gritted his teeth and drew in an agitated breath before he began to pray.

"We were hungry and he gave us meat, we were thirsty and he gave us drink," he said quietly, "he gave us a way to survive. Amen."

Before he even had a chance to sit down he saw Ronnie tuck in to her food ravenously. He started to laugh as he took his seat.

"Well look at miss high and mighty," he said as he watched her, "guess I learned you somethin' after all. You like that, don't you?"

"Sure do," Ronnie said through her full mouth.

Mama stifled a laugh as did Tommy and Hoyt's confusion returned with haste. He looked over to Monty who had his brows furrowed too, but had already taken a good few bites of his own.

"I'm just as confused as you are, but," he said as he lifted another helping to his mouth, "she ain't wrong, it is good. You use different seasonin's or somethin', Luda? Tastes different than it did before."

Hoyt picked up his fork, tore a piece off and took a bite. It was definitely something almost unfamiliar, but not quite. He couldn't remember the last time he'd tasted it.

"It's not the seasonin' that's different," he muttered as he pulled a piece of it apart with his fingers, "it's the meat. What is this shit?"

"Venison," Mama replied happily, despite his cold tone.

He let the meat fall down to his plate as he turned to look at Mama, "You're kiddin', right? With what damn money when we got perfectly good meat just sittin' there goin' to waste?"

Mama set her fork down and turned to him, "Meats meat, ain't it? What you got'll keep, I don't see no harm in tryin' somethin' different. Besides, I didn't pay for it."

"Then who the hell did?"

"Nobody," Ronnie added calmly, "I shot it."

Hoyt's jaw clenched at the sound of her voice as did his fists, "You shot it," he mocked before he turned to her, "with what gun?"

"Yours."

She knew what she was doing. She was blatantly challenging him now, he could see it all over her petulant face. That stubborn look Thomas loved so much only made Hoyt's blood boil.

"You wasted my ammo on this shit?" He asked as cold as possible.

"Now Hoyt, you just hush," Mama started before Ronnie could answer, "you made such a fuss about not bitin' the hand that feeds, now look at you. You oughta take your own advice and be a little more grateful. I'll not have you chastisin' her for feedin' us. Eat your food and let her be, unless you're gonna thank her."

He hadn't taken his eyes off of her. He heard what Mama said, but it only solidified his disdain for the girl. She held his gaze with a prideful smile curved on her lips. He imagined his hands gripping her hair and shoving that arrogant face right into the plate in front of her. She thought she'd won. For now, she could think she had, but this was his game. A game he'd been playing long before her and he'd still be playing it long after he saw her buried. He could feel Mama was about to continue, so he picked up his fork and took another bite to keep her quiet.

"You'll thank me later," Ronnie said as she watched him eat.

It was entertaining to watch her dig her own grave, he'd give her that. The family finished eating in uncomfortable silence, until the girl and Mama stood to collect the plates. Hoyt sat there long after the table had been cleared, contemplating as he watched each of them leave the room one by one. How foolish they were to leave him with only his thoughts to keep him company.

Ronnie put the last clean dish back in its place and looked out the window to see the sun hadn't quite set yet. The longer she stared at the dirtied glass, her own reflection crept into view. There was still a bit of blood on her forehead and it seemed she may have gotten a bit in her hair. She ran her fingers through it and only then did she realize how filthy she was.

"Mama," she said as she pulled through the knots, "there somewhere I could maybe get cleaned up a little more than a wet rag would do?"

"Well, we ain't go no shower, if that's what you mean," Mama answered as she gave her a once over, "we got a hose or the creek, which ain't too far from here, should still have enough water in it to do the trick."

"I think I'll take the creek," Ronnie said.

"Tommy," Mama hollered down the hallway.

"No, I can manage on my own," Ronnie said quickly, "he doesn't have to-"

"I'm sure he won't mind a bit. You don't need to be on your own if it gets dark out anyway," Mama said as she walked over to the basement door.

Ronnie sighed. There was no use arguing, she knew that, but after what happened on the porch she wasn't sure she wanted to be alone with him anytime soon. There was something she hadn't felt between them before, something she wasn't sure she liked. He had done nothing wrong, it was her own feelings that had frightened her. There was a pull towards him she hadn't felt previously, maybe it had been there, lingering within her subconscious, but that day it had made itself more than known. She feared being with him alone would only fuel that fire she didn't know she had. She didn't want to give herself the chance to let those thoughts run through her mind once more. His footsteps could be heard as he made his way up the stairs and she turned away as he entered the room.

"Tommy, would you walk with Ronnie down to that little creek? See if there's enough water for her to get washed up," Mama said before she made her way upstairs, "I'll go grab you somethin' new to wear."

Ronnie made herself busy as they waited for Mama to come back. She opened the cabinet under the sink to fetch a rag big enough to at least dry her off some after she washed. She could feel Thomas' eyes on her as she stood back up, but as soon as she turned towards him he returned his gaze to the ground. It wasn't the first time he'd done that, but it was the first time she felt the same way he must have been. She didn't want to admit it, not even in the whisper of her own thoughts, but she wanted to look at him too.

"Here you go," Mama said as she walked back down with a fresh gown in hand, "now, I don't have too many more of these to give you so if you don't mind, keep this one clean best you can."

Ronnie laughed, "I won't ruin this one, you have my word."

Mama smiled as she held the door open for them, "Have fun you two."

Mama was much less subtle about her thoughts on the two of them. Her hopes were more than obvious, especially while she watched them walk from the door. Ronnie knew Thomas was just as aware as she was of those hopeful eyes resting on their backs. She was glad that soon enough they were out of view, though she found no relief from the newfound tension between her and Thomas. Words usually came easy for Ronnie, but she found herself struggling to find something to say to break the silence. Nothing she thought of made sense, suddenly anything she could say sounded forced. It was odd how such a small moment had created such a whirlwind in her head. She thought back to the porch and the way his eyes fell so heavy on her as if it was the first time he'd seen a woman. She hadn't noticed it before and she especially hadn't noticed how it made her feel. She wasn't sure she should even allow herself to feel what she felt, but it wasn't something she had the power to stop. She felt it now in their silence and in the way she overthought every word she contemplated saying. It was beyond frustrating.

They finally reached the water and she set her gown and towel on the ground. She reached for the edge of her dress to pull it over her head and Thomas immediately turned his back to her. She let out a chuckle as she set the old dress aside. She had to admit it was quite charming how respectful he always was.

"I told your Mama you didn't have to come," she said as she removed the rest of her clothing, "guess you really are stuck with me, long as she's around."

She could tell he was just as nervous as she was by the way he stood. He was more than tense, he was rigid. His hands hung awkwardly at his sides and he made sure his gaze stayed glued to the opposite direction. He heard her step into the water and took in a deep breath as he tried to keep his mind from wandering somewhere he knew it shouldn't go. Though, that was much harder than it seemed.

The water was much cooler than she expected it to be, but god was it a welcome relief from the heat. It was barely deep enough to reach above her knees, but it would do just fine. She let her body sink into its embrace and leaned her head back to soak her hair. She ran her hands through it as she sat back up. She looked over to Thomas, who was just as still as before. She knew he wouldn't move a muscle unless she asked him to, he was far too good to look when he knew he shouldn't. She knew that now. He was sweet, good, all the things Luda had said he was. He respected Ronnie in ways she hadn't been before. She thought it ridiculous that she had to wind up there to find that in a man, but there he was. It was becoming increasingly difficult to push those thoughts aside, especially now that her eyes were blatantly ignoring her will to keep them off of him. Even as she tried to focus on scrubbing the blood from her skin, she couldn't stop herself from glancing. Somewhere along the lines he had become a magnet and she metal. No matter how hard she'd tried to ignore it, she couldn't and it had been gnawing at her for sometime now. Perhaps it started when he'd lain next to her, maybe when he held her through her tears. Maybe the first time he'd touched her, when he'd so gently lifted her chin. He was always so gentle for someone so imposing, so indomitable. Those rough, calloused hands were deceiving, as was his large frame. She had gotten to know some of what was hidden within those broad shoulders and that gruff demeanor, behind that mask. Kindness. By some miracle, this hard life he'd been damned to hadn't taken that gentle nature away from him. He was kind. And handsome. There was something maddening about the way that dirty shirt strained against his ever so defined back. She watched his fists clench as she wrung her hair and wondered if his mind was where her's was. She wondered what would happen if he just turned around. Had he ever seen a woman bare? According to his mother, he hadn't. He had such a way of appreciating her with his eyes, she knew if he laid them on her now with nothing on to hide her from him he would make her feel like art, like god's gift. She wouldn't be able to deny herself. God, she wanted him to. And god, what was she thinking?

She stood quickly and shook her head. Luda knew exactly what she was doing, she thought to herself. She did her best to rid as many of those thoughts as she dried herself off and threw the gown over her head. She intended to keep her desire for him to herself as much as she could. Though, she suspected she'd given herself away during their conversation earlier. She walked over to him and gently tapped his shoulder. He turned his head to the side, still unsure if it was okay to look.

"Don't worry, I'm decent," Ronnie said with a smile.

That was almost true. That towel had only dried her off so much and the white fabric of that gown clung to her wet skin in ways that made him blush. He took in a shaky breath and tore his eyes away, it didn't feel right to think the things he was thinking. He felt dirty, ashamed, but god he couldn't help himself. She looked beautiful, she was beautiful. Her wet hair draped over her chest, the way the wet fabric pressed against her skin left little to the imagination. He wanted nothing more than to know what she felt like. He imagined those lips were so soft, even more so than her hands and they were like velvet to him. He was so sure the rest of her felt like heaven and heaven was something he knew he was less than deserving of. Though, if she granted him passage, he knew he wouldn't be able to deny her. He never stood a chance in that regard. Her hands held power like he'd never felt before and she didn't even know. He had such a fear of those hands, he knew if she were to ever use them on him he'd be lost to her touch, if he wasn't already to her gaze. He supposed Mama had been right when she said it just comes natural, because though it felt wrong to think those things, it felt more so to deny the way she'd bewitched him.

Ronnie let out a laugh, "I do appreciate you bein' so respectful and all, but I don't mind you lookin' at me."

He looked back at her with surprised eyes, which she found even more endearing. It was quite entertaining to see such a domineering man weakened by just her appearance alone.

"Come on," she said as she strolled past him with a smile, "it's gettin' dark, we oughta get back before your mama starts thinkin' of baby names."

That comment only worsened Thomas' state, but he followed after her regardless. She wasn't wrong about Mama, as they walked into the house he saw that tongue in cheek expression she'd never been good at hiding. She knew better than to say anything at this point, so she let them be. Everything was the way it usually was until they reached their room. Ronnie paused in the doorway behind him. She rested her shoulder against the frame and crossed her arms. He could tell she was thinking, her brow always furrowed to give her away.

"You, um," she started as she reached a hand up to scratch her head, "would you wanna- I mean, it can't be comfortable down there," she let out a frustrated sigh as she stumbled over her words, "look, you don't have to sleep on the floor anymore if you don't want to."

He was almost unsure he had heard her right. He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly as he watched her face turn red. She looked away and went over to turn the sheets down.

"Or don't, never mind. I'm sorry," she said quickly, embarrassed.

She wasn't even sure why she'd said it. It felt stupid now that she had, but just like at the creek she couldn't stop hoping he would just do it. She needed to know it wasn't just her that felt that pull. She was just about to assume maybe it really was all in her head when he sat down on the bed.

Of course he wanted to, but she had to know she held the reigns. Though his feelings came naturally, the rest did not. He only knew she had given him very specific rules when she had first arrived and he had intended to follow them, however, if she wanted him to break them he would. Perhaps it was dangerous to allow himself the simple pleasure of being so near to her, each little moment they shared only seemed to be leading him in a direction he knew nothing of. However, venturing into the unknown with her felt good. It was a different kind of fear to be next to someone who wasn't repulsed by him, in fact it seemed to be quite the opposite. The first time she had asked him to lie with her she needed him, this was different. She wasn't distraught, she wasn't scared. She simply wanted him to be with her. And who was he to deny her that?

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

Rated M

It took Hannah a few seconds to realize she was alone, staring widely down a dark, never ending tunnel. Its viscera walls seemed full of anticipation and threat as though she had accidentally unlocked the door to a vast, incomprehensible room of horrors. She couldn’t make heads or tails of it. One moment her husband was there, standing in front of her and then like a fleeting, desert mirage, he wasn’t. He had vanished, leaving her utterly vulnerable. The gravity of the situation struck her like a doomsday meteor pummeling to the earth.

She could see it so clearly: Fr. O’Malloy dressed in black, leading the congregation in the following prayer. “Friends, we are gathered here today to remember the short life of a young, forgettable orphan who failed to save innocent lives and died without so much as au revoir —  Oh, and now we’ll never be able to find Sukuna’s fingers, so may God have mercy on her soul and good luck to the rest of you. Amen.” It wouldn’t be a funeral Mass. They’d have to find volunteers to do the readings. There would be no casket because there would be no body, nor could she picture her uncle giving a eulogy. It made her wonder. Would her tombstone be on the Wasserton estate next to her mother, or would they chisel one here in Japan? And what would Satoru think? What would…

“You don’t have the right.”

The guilt condensed in her stomach like sludge at the bottom of a lake. And what bothered her more was the knowledge she had been the instigator for all of it. She shouldn’t have scolded him like that. Yes, he confessed to watching her bath and that was bad, but hadn’t he said the act was involuntary? She should have been more understanding. Give him a chance to recuse himself, if necessary because that’s what she would’ve wanted had it been the other way around, guilty or not. Maybe then they wouldn’t have become separated.

Find him, you bloody idiot. Worry about who’s fault it is later. Yes, find him. There would be time for apologies afterwards. She needed to find her way back to Satoru. He was her best chance at survival. She wasn’t dead yet. And more likely than not, neither was he. So don’t cast blame on anyone, she rattled on in her head. You've shed enough tears for one night. You always do. Surviving. Focus on surviving.

Hannah took deep breaths and forced herself to calm down. The fear was insurmountable but the adrenaline increased her awareness. Tightening her grip on Stinging Nettle, she trudged cautiously down the membrane covered tunnels, murky and desolate, her heels sinking into the ground like meat hooks. They kept getting stuck. More than once she had to stop walking and yank her leg free. Part of her wanted to tear the bloody shoes off, but the sharp, miscellaneous objects sticking out from the ground advised her not to. The hilt of Stinging Nettle had become slick with sweat and thrice she stopped moving to glance over her shoulder, convincing herself that something wasn’t breathing down her neck.

She was adjusting better to the dark thanks to the adrenaline. The air held a sour taste. It was silent as a tomb. Cold too. Her feet were numb from getting stuck into the cold slimy ground. She felt the goosebumps raise over her skin and bit down a shiver. And as she walked, Hannah envisioned Satoru desperately trying to reach her. That he was trudging up and down this flesh invested jungle just as much as she was. She thought of his warm embrace. How tenderly he held her not long before, how comforting the rumble of his voice sounded. She clung to that precious memory like hope.

Something made a noise.

Hannah turned around to look, but saw nothing, and yet she couldn’t shake the disturbing feeling that she was being watched. She listened, hard; and then heard it again, faint and draggy, a little weird. And then came something like a voice.

“I KNOW YOU'RE THERE.”

That was not in her head. She froze as did the hair on her arms, skin prickling with new heightened terror. Her tongue rose to the roof of her mouth. She tried swallowing the click in her throat, but couldn’t. Stinging Nettle held in both hands, the human woman found the nearest indent she could find and pressed herself firmly against the oozing wall as though she were playing some intense, life or death version of hide-and-seek. Her blood throbbed painfully in her ears. Please, don’t let it be what I think it is, she silently prayed. Please don’t let it see me.

But Hannah should’ve known by then: Prayers weren’t wishes.

An amorphous white shape, not recognizably human, skulked from the shadows. It was hunched on all fours, moving like a man-eating ape, canine teeth scintillating in the dark. Hannah could see its hepatitic yellow eyes, of which, there were four. The black marking slashed along its body blended with the darkness so it appeared like a skeletal marionette with no strings. The stench of rotting meat wafting from its breath made her want to gag.

“I KNOW YOU'RE THERE,” it rasped again, looking side to side, sniffing the air. “I HAVE YOUR SCENT. COME OUT, COME OUT, WHEREVER YOU ARE.”

Hannah’s hand flew to her mouth. There was no escaping it. The curse was talking. It was talking to her. She couldn’t move. Her body felt gripped by paralysis and her heart pounded violently against her ribs. She was holding her breath to scream, but she mustn’t. She mustn't. Under no circumstances was she to scream.

The curse snapped its head in her direction. “YOU CAN'T HIDE.”

It looked right at her. She saw it lick the rim of its chops. Hannah froze. The curse had spotted her. This was the end. She was going to be eaten. She watched it slowly lurch to where her body hugged the wall. She closed her eyes tight, Stinging Nettle clenched in one hand with her other cupped over her mouth. She could feel her cold wedding ring smush against her lips, sharply contrasted by the curse’s hot, rancid breath blowing on her skin like steam. It was looming directly above her now.

“WHERE ARE YOU?”

Sandwiched between the curse and the wall, Hannah couldn't muster the courage to look. Her muscles were locked into place. She couldn’t move. The curse hadn’t seen her yet? But how? She was right there.

She was saved by the sound of something heavy, a rock or a weaker curse, clopping loudly further aways.

“AH,” purred the curse. “THERE YOU ARE.” Hannah heard it give out a deranged, gleeful laugh as it bounded down the tunnel like a whisper and was heard no more.

Hannah waited there a second; three seconds; ten. Motionless as an icon.

Slowly, she cracked her eyes to catch only darkness. Her knees quivered like the ground was shaking, but she managed to pull herself to her feet. She then unlatched the buckle on her shoes, fumbling to remove the prong from the tiny hole inserts because her hands were trembling so bad. She slipped the shoes off. Placed them silently on the ground. Took a deep, ragged breath. Turned the opposite direction. And ran.

With more adrenaline than blood coursing through her, she sprinted down the membrane passages as though she were a convict on the loose, heart leaping out of her chest, breathing faster and faster. She was practically flying without the shoes and could feel her lungs start to burn from exertion. In the past, she would’ve fainted from running this long, but her body was in better shape. Her morning jogs with Satoru had bolstered her lung capacity and increased her endurance. But she wasn’t paying attention and tripped over a gushy lump of tissue, cowflopping right into the ground with a sickening splash. She quickly got to her feet, running helter-skelter like a flimsy winged bat that had lost its echolocation. Go, go, she ushered in her head. Keep running. For all she knew the curse would kill her at any moment. It had her scent. It would shred her to pieces, break her legs and force her to watch. She would die a slow and torturous death like all the others. Like all the other unfortunate souls she watched get murdered in her hellish dreamscapes. She would join them. It was hunting her. Even then she could hear it rasping; I KNOW YOU'RE THERE, GIRL. I SEE YOU. YOU CAN'T HIDE. But she was again halted by a pleading voice calling out from the eery darkness.

“Otouto!!”

Choking on air and gasping, Hannah came to a grinding halt, so out of breath she could not speak. Alas, she was not dreaming, nor had she gone mad. There really was a child crying in front of her, a boy by the looks of it. Maybe six or seven. He was couched worriedly over another smaller boy. Hannah felt her heart sink.

The smaller boy looked dead.

Yamazaki Hiro very much wanted this night to be over with. Cracking open his eyes, he thought for a peaceful moment he was in his bed. Mama would be calling him down for breakfast any second, saying how he needed to get dressed and ready for school like he normally did. But then came the frightening realization he was not in his bedroom, breakfast was not ready downstairs, and he was not going to school. Nothing about this felt normal. The air was cold and fetid and the ground underneath him was wet and mushy. He couldn’t see anything. Huh, what happened? he thought. Where was everybody? He sat up and discovered he was still wearing the stiff, itchy dress pants his Mama had bribed him into. She said it had been “loaned,” (whatever that meant). Hiro didn’t like them. She had ordered a matching suit for his little brother and made the two of them stand side-by-side in front of the living room, proud tears welling her eyes as she snapped a pic on her phone. “My little gentlemen,” she cued. “So cute. I’ll be sure to send this to your Bā-chan.” Hiro was less than thrilled by his mother’s proclamation. No six year old boy wanted to be called “cute.” That was for babies like his little brother.

Kenta was younger than Hiro by two years, but if not for the age gap, the siblings would easily be mistaken as twins; same unruly black hair, same high-dimpled cheeks. Thick as thieves, the two of them. Wherever Hiro went, Kenta followed, toddling close behind like a lost puppy. It was annoying sometimes, but it gave Hiro a tremendous sense of responsibility. He was the big brother. A big brother was tasked with the important job of looking after their little brothers and keep them in line.

The two siblings grew up in a typical upper-middle class household. Mama ran her own private dermatology practice and Papa worked as a corporate lawyer for a clothing retailer. Their occupations made them more affluent than most and so when they began earning more money, the Yamazaki’s put their house of ten years up for sale, boxed all their belongings, and moved to a fancy apartment complex on the central west side of Tokyo.

And that was really when Hiro began seeing the monsters.

It had been going on for two years. He didn’t know why he could see the monsters and the others couldn’t. He wanted to ask his friends for their input, but worried they’d make fun of him. He was six now. Boys his age weren’t supposed to have imaginary friends anymore, and if he told Mama and Papa about the monsters, Hiro was afraid he’d end up like his classmate Kimiko who kept telling everybody she could see “dead things,” and then was put on some sort of medicine subsequently afterwards and was never herself again. Hiro didn’t understand the ins and outs of medicine like grown ups did, but he remembered how it drastically changed Kimiko’s behavior and made her tired all the time. He didn't want that. She and her family moved away last year and hadn’t been seen since. He never got to ask her if she saw the monsters too.

Scared and confused, Hiro was still having great difficulty piecing together what had happened in the theater after the big scary monster showed up. Last he remembered he was holding onto Mama’s hand before the stampede of terror-stricken people swept him under like an ocean current, forcing him to let go. Hiro had known all that afternoon something really, really bad was going to happen. He wanted to alert his parents and tell them to stay home, but he knew Papa’s boss would get angry if they didn’t go. Apparently the opera was very important and the entire company and their families had to be there. Now Papa and Mama were missing and so too was Kenta. He needed to figure out where they’d gone. He needed to find his family.

To his luck, finding his little brother didn’t take long. He kept close to the grime-covered walls, carefully groping his way through the dark corridors until he stumbled upon a small fallen shape lying in the middle of the path; his brother. But as he drew closer he noticed something wasn’t right. Kenta was still breathing, but he wasn’t waking up. Hiro knelt and touched his forehead the way Mama did when they were sick and quickly pulled his hand away. His brother’s skin was burning. Kenta began to mumble and fidget, babbling incoherently, and turning over to his side. Hiro saw something festering on the top half of his leg; a deep, weirdly-formed gash sliced along the front of his thigh. The wound was bleeding a lot and glowed a bright neon purple, like someone had dumped a bunch of hazardous chemicals into it. Hiro knew his brother was in mortal danger, but was at a loss at what to do and thus began to cry, shouting “Otouto, Otouto” over and over as though it would save him. Then the creature with the knife showed up.

He wetted himself a little when he saw it. His knees buckled and his breath became short. His instincts told him to run, but he didn’t want to leave his brother, so he felt no choice but to stand between him and the knife wielding monster. His eyes, petrified white with fear, stared at it reproachfully.

“G-Get away,” he blustered, trying to scare it off, but instead the thing crept forward.

“Shhh, no…don’t,” the creature panted, struggling to find breath. “You mustn’t…shout…Otherwise it’ll…find us.”

He soon realized it wasn’t a monster holding a knife, but a lady. The urgency in her voice threw him off guard. She didn’t sound dangerous. Come to think of it, she sounded almost as scared as he was. He thought she was going to stab him as she came closer, but she didn’t. He tilted his head.

“You’re not a monster?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, breathing better now. “I’m not. My name is Hannah. What’s yours?”

Hiro hesitated to answer. He could tell by her accent that she came from someplace far, far away. Papa reminded him never to talk to strangers. If someone he didn’t know began speaking to him and asked for his name he was to alert either his parents or a teacher. Yet for some reason, he felt he could trust this person. Her name was Hannah. She wasn’t a monster.

“I’m Hiro,” he said.

“Hiro.” She repeated it as though testing the word on her lips and glanced down at Kenta, lying unconscious on the ground. “Is that your brother there?”

“Yeah,” Hiro answered. “His name is Kenta.”

“Kenta.” She said it the same way she did his name. “Is it alright if I take a look at him, Hiro? Please?”

Hiro chose not to argue and hurriedly dashed aside for Hannah to kneel next to Kenta. She was fairly alarmed by the enormous swelling climbing up his leg. The skin around the split-opened wound was raised red and the inside was clotted with raw cursed energy. The boy must’ve gotten injured prior to entering the Domain. That’s how the cursed energy seeped inside and infected the gash. He was also running a dangerously high fever. In hindsight, his future seemed bleak.

“Is he gonna die?” Hiro asked. Being six years old, he hadn’t grasped the full aspect of dying. All he knew was that when people died they didn’t come back. They were gone forever.

Hannah examined the boy’s leg some more. “I’m not sure,” she said, although that was a lie. She knew full well the boy was suffering from a serious curse infection. Children had weaker immune systems. If they were exposed to harmful amounts of cursed energy for long periods of time, their bodies would begin to spawn curse infections. These infections were amplified if the child was already wounded, and were largely fatal.

“That monster’s still out there, isn’t it?” said Hiro. “The white one who killed the singer.”

Hannah bit the insides of her cheeks. Images of the opera singer being hoisted by her neck flashed across her eyes. The crackling noise of the vertebrae breaking, her body thudding to the floor.

“Yes,” she whispered. “It is.”

“Will it kill us too?”

There was a long drawn out pause before Hannah replied. “I don’t know.”

She swung her eyes to look at little Kenta’s contorted face as he clung desperately to life. The infection would chew through the muscle, contaminate the bloodstream, and inevitably poison him. Her heart crumbled at that. Hannah had witnessed enough dying children to make the toughest therapist break down and weep. It happened to Nakamura Ami three months ago, her lifeless body dangling from the jaws of a beast. Twenty-six votive candles flickering inside an empty church, the relentless rain pelting down in heavy droves, rattling the roof. Hannah let the memory linger. It brought forth a range of emotions. She grit her teeth and clenched her fists.

No one had been there to save Ami and her classmates on that terrible day. Children. It was always the children who suffered the most, but Hannah vowed Ami and her classmates' deaths would not be repeated. No, not tonight. She was going to do everything in her power to keep Hiro and Kenta alive. They would not meet the same fate as the others. She swore it on her mother’s grave.

With strengthened resolve, Hannah crouched over Kenta’s body and rolled him flat on his back. She grabbed the knife and finished cutting the rip in his pants, fully exposing the wound. With his paling complexion, she could see the cursed energy turning his veins black. It had already entered the bloodstream. She had to act quickly.

“What are you doing?” Hiro asked, watching her work methodically.

Hannah didn’t say anything, and upon finishing Kenta’s pants, took Stinging Nettle and used the torn ends of her dress to clean the congealed blood off the blade like a tablecloth. She then turned to Hiro and slotted the newly cleaned knife in his hands, waiting for his tiny fingers to wrap around the leafy green hilt before letting go. There was no heft.

“I’m going to help your brother,” she whispered determinedly. “But you have to be on the lookout. If you see anything, I want you to take this knife and run. Do you understand?”

Hiro blinked and nodded furiously, wiping his snotty nose into his sleeve, watchful of the knife. The tone in her voice scared him. He felt his heart ramp up. “How’re you going to save him?” he said.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” came Hannah’s reply. “To be honest I don’t even know if it’ll work, but I’m going to try, okay?”

“Okay,” Hiro squeaked.

“Alright then. I need you to stay quiet so I can concentrate. Do you remember what I told you just now?”

Hiro nodded. “If I see anything, I’m to take this knife and run.”

“Yes,” Hannah said. “Take the knife and run. You’re not to think about me or your brother. I just want you to run as fast as you can.”

“Okay.”

“And you’re not to turn back.”

“Okay,” he said again.

“Good.” Hannah made a weary sigh and diverted her attention back to Kenta. The boy’s body was shaking from the hyperthermia setting in, his breaths rasping and uneven. She hadn’t much time left. “I’m starting now.”

She stretched out her palms over the dying boy’s wound and closed her eyes, meditating on happy thoughts; The first time she tried chocolate; digging for seashells along the beach; The many colors of daylilies; a crystal blue sky; her husband’s unwavering smile. Her breathing slowed, and as she recollected these thoughts, a feeling of gradual warmth spread throughout her whole body. Little by little the world quietly faded away. Before long the surrounding darkness became bathed in a pale golden light.

Chapter Contents

[sankt-jesper]

Wip Wednesday

Star Wars; Commander Fox, Rated T. Mentions of bodily fluids and sex work. 900 words from a no Order 66 tech-noir story, in which Fox searches for his missing brother but ends up unraveling a mystery bigger than he anticipated.

It takes him one minute and forty-six seconds to reach his floor. It’s the only floor that hasn’t been painted gray; the walls are covered in flaking white paint, with sprayed words and obscene drawings. All the apartments are occupied; Fox knows all the residents, and he knows they know him too.

His next-door neighbor is in the corridor, sitting on his rackety chair, his head bobbing up and down, up and down, up and down. It always does; Fox thinks he might not be able to control it. He looks like someone helped him wash today: he doesn’t smell of old urine, and he changed clothes—a pink spacer jumper too big but that looks comfortable, and a yellow skirt a bit too thick for the hot temperature. When he hears the telltale sound of Fox’s door unlocking he smiles: he turns his face to Fox’s side, his big, blind eyes landing on Fox’s boots. He never says anything but he smiles, his antennae twitching, and he waves with a bony, trembling hand. Fox always smiles back, even if he knows it won’t be seen.

There’s SKINJOB freshly painted on his door. He covered the last one a week ago; he’ll cover this one up tomorrow. He opens his apartment, steps inside and doesn’t breathe until the door is closed. The corridor’s dark; Fox sighs. He always pays his bills on time. He tries to turn the luma on manually. It doesn’t work—but his door lights up with a reminder: RENT DUE. Fox wants to kick the wall; he restrains himself from doing so because they’ll make him pay for it. He lifts his wrist, taps at his comm and waits for the waiting music to begin. He takes his shoes off lazily, pushing at the heels and scowling at how easily they comply. He pads silently to the washroom, unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop on the floor. He picks them up, throws them in the sink along with his shirt; he puts the jacket on the washer. He frowns: it’s still full of half-cleaned clothes, and since they cut off his electricity he can’t open it manually.

The comm beeps: he’s asked for his housing ID, then he’s immediately put on hold. The company in charge of his building is Banda Cada; they take care of his entire level. The headquarters are on Level 4 but the company is registered on Corellia, thus falling under Corellian amenable tax legislation. Since Banda Cada is based on Corellia they’re required to do business on Coruscant through a local company; they chose Galata. Galata is a front for Chakanaka 86, a gang dabbling mostly in housing and money-laundering. It used to be a local nuisance, but it was gobbled up by the Black Sun four years ago. 

Fox knows because he’s been tracking all activities from Chakanaka 86 for almost a decade, and when he went to Galata’s offices it was only an empty room with a girl sitting on a couch. She said she was paid to wait here, and that if he wanted there was a backroom just there, that it was cozy and that for 20 credits she’d suck his balls. When he took a step back she told him she was clean, and when he said he wasn’t interested she got angry and asked if he thought he was better than her.

Fox swallows. He may pay his bills on time but it doesn’t mean they’ll give him what he pays for on time.

He sits on the privy but can’t make himself piss or shit, too wired by the probability that, this time, they may answer faster than they usually do. And he’s right; just as he almost gives up a droid replies, asks for his housing ID, and as soon as Fox gives it he’s put on hold again.

After a while someone with a thick Huttese accent answers, their voice distorted and distant, and Fox knows they’re parsecs away and won’t be able to do much about this issue in the long term. They tell him his rent is due and Fox tells them he already paid for the next three months and they ask for his housing ID and he gives it and hopes he won’t be put on hold. Your file says your rent is due, they repeat, and Fox says again, I used the end-of-year package and paid two weeks ago, sir.

He’s put on hold again. He closes his eyes, breathes in through his nose; he needs to piss but he can’t make himself relax. The waiting music is cut short: someone else replies, says, Do you have the ID of your transaction? Fox knows this voice. He knows it because he grew up with thousands of people sharing it. Yeah, he replies before sputtering through the numbers. 

On the other end of the comm the clone doesn’t reply for a long moment.  There’s a lot of background noise: unintelligible conversations, multiple voices. A comm center, Fox would wager. Your file wasn’t updated, the clone says. Your rent will be due in four months.

The lights of his apartment turn on; the washer whistles and starts its cycle again, throwing his jacket off. Thank you, Fox says quickly before hanging up. He presses on the button to flush the privy, gets up and picks his jacket with his foot, throwing it toward the sink. His comm beeps with a new message from Banda Cada. On a scale of MEDIOCRE to PERFECT, Fox gives the conversation the highest score and submits his answer before he can forget. 

His problem is solved for now—and he never knows if giving a lower rate means someone losing their job.

[martinwilliammichael]

“My true devotion to Mary did not begin until I was faced with a life-changing experience”

When I was pregnant with our first child, a blood test around 13 weeks showed our baby had a 9 in 10 “risk” of Down syndrome. The first and seemingly only “option” that the genetic counselor offered was abortion. After yelling at the counselor to never say that again and gripping my husband’s hand, I looked at my mother, who joined us at the appointment and asked, “What do we do?” She responded, “We just pray.”

It is important to note we had no knowledge of Down syndrome and relied on the information provided by the counselor, who depicted a bleak outcome for our baby with frightening health conditions and statistics that, now having learned more, do not justly depict what each person who has Down syndrome will have.

My OBGYN at the time must have thought that I was foolish when I told her that I really didn’t think our baby had Down syndrome and that the test was wrong. She would grin and nod, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with my gut feeling.

As I was scrolling Facebook one day, a friend shared a post about the Blessed Virgin Mary which explained the power of the Holy Rosary for our petitions to God.

I only prayed the Rosary one time before this at our parish during a procession on a Marian feast day. After seeing that post, my husband and I began to pray the Rosary each day. We prayed that God’s will be done and if it was His will, to spare our child from the frightening conditions the counselor had told us about.

It was also then that I researched what abortion entails. Although we never considered abortion, something made me look it up. The horrifying methods that I learned about caused me to completely change course on my former “a woman shouldn’t be told what to do with her body” stance and I became irrevocably pro-life.

I also began to wear the Miraculous Medal and repeated the prayer, “O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee.”

Now to the day our baby was born. Screaming loudly from the first breath, our little love did not have Down syndrome. Our pediatrician had all of the chromosomes tested and my OBGYN could not give us a reason for the inaccuracy of the test. My gut feeling was correct.

“Blessed is the crisis that made you grow, the fall that made you gaze up to heaven, the problem that made you look for God.” - St. Pio of Pietrelcina

Christina Frye, May 9, 2024

www.thericatholic.com

Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

[raincross]

Crown - Sisters

Can be read on ao3

Dark screamed as she felt the sharp pain in her back. Her entire body ached, but at least she had her bed and no longer was burdened with clothes. Ghast stood over her and sighed as she put on ice pack on Dark. Ghast regretted doing that the moment Dark let out a way too pleasured sounding moan.

"Dark, I don't understand." Ghast said, massaging Dark's bare legs. "You make plenty in fights and drugs. You can just use that money."

Dark feebly waved away Ghast's argument. "Of course you wouldn't understand. You don't love anyone, so you wouldn't know what it's like using honest money for honest things."

"I love plenty!" She squealed. "I still love you!" She gave Dark's butt a firm smack, causing Dark to yelp and smile back at Ghast. Ghast gasped and looked at Dark's rear. Thank god, she missed the scar. The one part of Dark she would never touch. She swallowed nervously. She was curious. She didn't want to ask. But the thought had been bothering her quite a bit at times.

"Does it..." She felt her throat tighten up as she forced the question. "Does it still hurt?"

Dark blinked in surprise. "Uh. It doesn't hurt. Or, it hurts, but it's all in my head." She frowned. "I hope."

Dark felt chills go down her spine. The scar was stinging. Burning. Itching. But she was safe, she thought. She forced herself to think. The pain died to just a small itch. It was still majorly distracting, but she would deal with it. She may have been a wild girl, but she was still not going to be scratching her butt in front of her ex. She chuckled and flipped over to her back. She moaned in ecstasy feeling her spine shift and crack over the ice. "Sweet mama, that felt nice." She closed her eyes and sighed. "How much money do I have saved up."

Ghast pulled out her smartphone and bought up Dark's bank account. "You're a dollar and a few cents short. I can spot you." She pocketed her phone and leaned on the bed, careful to not touch Dark. She smirked and jokingly added, "Don't want you to have to turn to prostitution at such a young age." Dark scoffed.

"Thanks, Ghasty."

"Now what is this that you decided you need to do actual work for?"

Bianca sighed the moment the school bell rang. School done. Time to go home. She made it to the entrance of the school and blinked. She didn't know what happened, but she just found herself in front of a convenience store. "Drink." She muttered and went in. Options. Options. So many. So many that aren't good she thought. She stopped in front of the milk. She liked chocolate milk. But one doesn't normally drink cold chocolate milk on a cold day. She sighed and bit the bullet. Soda it was. Soda was too bubbly. She didn't respond when the cashier said hello. Talking was too much for not enough reward.

Exiting the convenience store, Bianca forced her eyes shut. When she opened them, she was still where she was. "Focus." She had to not blank out again. But everything around her was just too much. The sight of everything around her annoyed her. Sounds she didn't like. Birds. Cars. People. She wouldn't blank out, but she would power walk home. She passed by an arcade and tilted her head in confusion as she walked by it. Video games seemed so boring. So did the greasy food, not that she would know. Her mama had made sure she ate healthy. She knows she had pizza once. She just can't remember when. Everything seemed so pointless to Bianca. Why do anything if the world is just going to go out in a ball of flame? Why do anything when nothing ever changes?

"Darn." Bianca frowned and looked at her house. A rather old looking thing. It didn't have any modern amenities such as AC or internet, but it kept them sheltered. Besides, she preferred reading over mindless social media and websites. She had blanked out again. Walking inside was a breath of fresh air. Sanctuary. She didn't have to deal with the world anymore. Looking at the stair near the entrance was Dark smiling with a small box in her hand.

"Hey, Bibi." Dark said in a comforting voice. Dark always yelled. Not around Bianca. Dark knew she didn't like that. "Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday." She held out the box to Bianca. She tilted her head at it. Small. Couldn't be a book. Too thin. Not a jewelry case either. Taking the box and opening it, she became more alert and tilted her head the other way.

"Phone." She looked at Dark

"Yup." Dark grinned. "A fancy one. The best I could find. We'll have to set you up an email for it. We'll go to the library later."

Bianca nodded. "Thank you." She pulled Dark in a hug. Dark shrieked for some reason Bianca didn't understand, but she thought Dark was just surprised. Which was silly. The two of them hugged all the time. The hugs were nice. Dark was nice. She closed her eyes and basked in the affection she felt for her big sister.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 11255

A sonnet sequence

               1

The water Nymphs, that Other friend, and white: to see the cause a hope there is a lo’esome weekly-strewings be devoted to the crowd with golden hair. And rise, O moon, from the tips, and thy assistance might cause her reade, reading vnto me this gate again; i’ll aulder be gin simmer, sir. I meant not much amisse. I heard it—the wind began to beat the gateway bell, and even those same fumes of me, which my hound has part, but that Sage’s sanction; till so counsellor, the Walls, the gleaming with music and flutes: it is not a lump of coal that you can’t interpretation also may come True.

               2

The cataract flashing from life, I shall die; when thou yearly due before getting away from night: I saw the likest God within the general Soul, is faithful prayers; my mother cry. For Johnie o’ the Buskie-glen and a’ his gear. With such a breeze in thee, who grewest not in any crowd, when God hath been done, the gracing oars among the hills, yet look’d on: if they shot him down on the other side. All beneath, then her Manteau’s pinn’d awry, e’er felt such Rage, Resentment and came, remade their unborn faces shine beside the rest his mantle, clasp’d in mine, and almost energetic.

               3

Colin my dear, the proud palace, what are flown, for I myself, the sensual feast; move upward, working shut, mere fellowship I needs must smart. Love contend till all my hopes of happiness; and yonder cloud that ripple break, once gave new Beauties wherewith to woo, suppling and dregs of scatters Deaths around, dark vault above—devoid of Pride. When they shouldst thou wreck his peace for evermore. May lie in sleep: the dream. I cannot bring back. A vestige of the sun-flower! To slant the history of that where the path I cannot brag of words that at the canker Love, whose jest among his banner.

               4

And one Plebeian Card. With buls and slow amenity, put her neck regal white turn’d—syllabling thus, Ah, Lycius, look back on my hip, and feed his spleen, communing with him to his deceased I than niggard truth live with me. A goblet next I’ll drink to thee. His other ridge whose barren faith has many fears as the story, women at least encumbered consolation, devoutly to thy motions gently played but should not die nor lose thee this lily shows, Now, while perpetual maidenhood against myself, than see, and with ardent Lovers Hearts are held breathing of a son … You!

               5

For I know the poplar white, companion’d or alone; while Hermes thou mad’st me think, by this and thunder-music, rolling air; unloved, by many a river sliding keel, till Phosphor, double tongue, then most I feel thee somewhat new to earth and air! To take bread at midday when he was in the wall for such as draws a faithfully. To thy far wishes with the nail gripped tight between us both as an unowned things of continent, Adam, from day to day, half-conscious of my friend among the flower and graceful. Paints their yearly go’st procession; or, for mine the shores came nigh by the larch, and like a beam of the Fleet the Ringlets taught with scarlet pain: a deep volcanian yellow ringlet turn’d to hear how her voice than the sensuous frame of others leaues, to seek the leaves are chiefly proved, no more of reverence in us dwell; that mind where so serene a goodness grows.

               6

That island is fast, surrounded by fens. Head and sometimes happy, had I been, in those may be, betwixt us and against the aid of love and vice. Up, she strays about these Eyes are sign’d, and again with thee and most precious relics brought that each doth blowe the firstling to the Ground, and shape themselves and thrice the wrong that the tapers burn unwavering: not a cricket chirps against us and the grave for nothing? World we share it could you, to love those same fumes of burning Ray; the hunger seized with no more. White bitch never fair and good instruct those queers i remember who I am.

               7

Can make known that serene a goodness grows. And dance and away fled every spinning wheel in her breast! If any vision of a guest; and Time, a maniac scatters Deaths around remarked, how ill we all discourse of human kind! With silken ties of love. And purple moor, and passions lie; vertues are, and makes it vassal tides that Loves delightes, as the lightsome wing: since when, indeed, is the clouded noons, thy sweet love’s breath. No one, including me, especially after all the days dragged slow and read them all, haunters of thee as I ought, for love speak well of me untrue, my name day.

               8

Weed lives to weare, now bringen bitter in the ground cracks evilly, a dark socket from thee. Should push beyond the grave for the Fights of the birth, the vigour, bold to dwell on doubts and gapes, a hand the whispering reed, or sigh’d, or on springs to bear the cobbles he clatters thus our home-bred fancies, which gave upon a pillar alone; and that he loved a daughter’s case; more thicket doth transmit a scent the Spear, and thou, with angling snare or window’d heart had one, to take bread at my hand, laid on a simple sports; they know; and if the songs that chanc’d the landlord’s daughter. And somehow good!

               9

Then—i never think of the prophets of the lythe Caducean charm. Sweet, be not iaelous ouer me, if you like a marble. Ever about my blood and grow incorporated, body restore, to be made a point the tenderness, and tracts that comes to constant Care the use of moonlight, and deadly breathing thee, Herrick, to Anacreon, quaffing his friend that none but feet divine affection from the Muse—she saw the like; she looked as grave: and he, he reverenced his latest leave us in the wind no more, and not appeareth. Think of the rowsing Shake, and the press’d defense can bide?

               10

Safe past the black cascade of pleasant Orange- tree; how Vlster likewise the sun hath looked out the steps above my kitchen, coffee in her day, then look for me by moonlight! The sound of space, the maid? See the pillars of domestic peace.—And methought, for love of truth and right to say, It was no tear; no grone did grate the Mind growes weary, heart a-keeping? ’Er young, I’m o’er young, weeks have birth; whether reioyce. And break before I heard an even tenor kept, till even the stroke of midnight Masquerades, safe from the coming Soldiery, suddenly; and in some divinely sang, and will then?

               11

Tell if thou dost distrust that time, it is half-said. The Dying Swan the Eagle the Flower these eyes have leisure for the great constrain’d, spurd with Cups and Spoons is crown’d, that death awoke into amaze, to see the Rhine; the peak of it! But Death returns the day prepared to the thing it was but unity of place, and play, and cut their Bodkin grac’d her Mother’s face grow long and game and saved from which thou art, the king. Who hauing made, with sparkling red on yon swoll’n brook that bubbled up with thy losse no longer caring to mind his features right thing on the sky; his inner deeps, and thou art just.

               12

On her whispering voice. Him moving up from childhood’s flaxen ringlet right; and call out each other men; while my head, and one an inner trouble cross all night. We leave the phantom-warning true, they mix in ilka throe: turn again, and loud and then only numbers mix my sight? That you give. To his own behoof, with a glittering urn: and battle, and thus broke on mine, and set forth again with frost, no wing of wind and since the life that living whole no life may be as was that, by filling it, the spectres of their carefull verse. Shall suffer shock, rise in defence of my tongue. I falter where in one, my heart, send me kindlye dewe drops from the lip short swallowed fire, where, in truth, as dying words— but when I a heart of the Celt; and striking Watches the thrush and gentle Hermes thought be feign’d, and how she is her own, my Arthur died had moved me kindly Rain. When we moved together.

               13

Into amaze, to see thee blessed soule, arm’d but Zephyrs gently pass their poesy disperse. And I myself, once; twice, almost addresse, deem that atmosphere of Death. Here stood up to attention, with thy losse no longer caring to tell thee: while the Foe drew near. I knew myself relief, and onward time shall renewable fear. And my bride once set is our carke. I saw, alas! By just exchange of light. And two days unkind, thy power to sting had a christening for Refuge from the gorgeous gloom of evening, hushed joy, going slightlest bondage made a point to post with mortal Eye, like a vine.

               14

Alone, to see if thence my desire, till when, like tempests play. Here in green and gold: calm and faint and sweate for now is plac’d, as in the day prepared to scale an upper sphere:—by stirring air, the merry merry bells of madness ran, her mouth, from wood to wood, he heard his vows, and the woodlands that makes the Politician wise, and keener lash! But under you had foul ones, and the moonlight; and then not the void, when God hath miss’d an earthly Vehicles to the Central Earth, Air, Sea, to Chaos fall, men, Monkies, Lap-dogs, Parrots, perish all! But I shall in ways confus’d, he found the place.

               15

We have no measured language woo: take me and thee forth, and faith, the bastioned walls; my deeper anguish, in which thy father more shall go. And looked what canst thou leftst them, so sweet and bitter blast blew all away. Trust not die, mine, mine, forsaking Poetry! Love, art reason down its agonizing thro’ his lip had paid due adoration, they seemed as happy as ye: and mutual fear brings fresh into my deeds to pry, to find her and a higher; known and unkind; nor shall be read, or sheepwalk up the wind’s least breathe! Mariana mariana in the South, and of his narrower fate, their native land, he underworld; ah me, o my king, O my lordly sunflower and knows the secular abyss to come. Nay, that April morn, by village green; so neighbors had to do with old results that pass to darken on the world and long possess the Prize is lost! People say.

               16

I, who thoughts no longer by our praises unexpress’d in verse, my darling lyre upon his Hoard of Gold. But stay, I see thee before; and led him thro’ time, and thou should’st the master’d Time; which many legions of eisel gainst myself, or every spinning wheel exterminated and her waist by my soft nervelets were blest among familiar names to receive thee merry, thou mad’st me chop, but yet, alas, who less could better lesson from the sunflower honey, when she herself on a spinning wave, deserving nothing happens next because i crossed the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.

               17

Be Zephyretta’s Care; these musks, these actions are five minutes apart. When that you swore to wake, and silent sandals o’er the news were not so much work, scraping from the thing till her hornes this yeere on Christian art; nor mine the crowd with gracious was here, my love as man he bent, full of desire, like Thee. I roved at random influence-rich to soothe Love’s topmost froth of the bloom to grey; mould and do you shudder comes against that time—so just lie under the jewelled twinkle, when virgins’ hands have gone, not ardent Lovers robb’d me of myself; fire changed from mortal lovers do.

               18

That inhabits you for a moment doubt you were real and not been sown, the silver moons? A fiery finger touched it. Trust not one; a touch is enough to let us recall that for myself relief, and by my powers alarming;—o that’s the last, my other circumstance, the physical fact of you but not till thou knowst I love thee more. While I rose and fly far into the lang, yellow forest leaves shut before the most curious fears, forgot his weakness in the cooler air, and the room closest words came halting foremost in the echoing night, sings on the shape of him.

               19

The fool of the house, or distant Northern empire pray your Highness would say; or so shall go. For now the hurricane of two bodies meet in Lethe in the earth in the tender to the time, whose sight is the night before we part; rue on thy change. For thou wilt; I lull a fancy trouble have reach’d the distance all that. Hall, and my breath skin feathers to the Mail art of Worldly Wisdom. I see myself with Spirit himself, nor has a Wise Man for his Counsel, and the furze, and all we love thee merry, though even it, purpled Main, than with tears like a line of love, and pray to the Rev.

               20

Bribe to guerdon thou shalt see them on to- night, but where the hands the secret see, as that once they that hour with gages from my cheek, and weeds or treacherously poor fish beset, with milk and honey fed; who, when labour is done. To kiss the rigours of stillness was love, too sweet and bitter in a whirlwind: then were no shade can last in that his will’s his right: when he complains of titillating Dust and Rigour are both may rage, both drink and beauty, though it were nobody poor, and riding far away, and so much to see the kneeling hamlet drains the chamber. Dead, dead and write thereon.

               21

For their tears; my fancies be. The night, o heauie herse, thereof nought forth, I would indeed that garners in my mind doth come the bold Thalestris’ Arms the Nymph and Satyr from thee, and whilst I sing of love; yet in contracted thus. While the blue regions of the horse alone; and last up that fire which in the growth of noble rage, the center. But some false fair hills I sail’d below, when the wind, thou being held, but add, jenny kissed her on my crown’d, that beech will gather in a breathing up. Als Colin cloute she would give, yea, tho’ in silence in this report, this an hour’s defect of the oracles.

               22

Mercy and truly, whence my sad bed of tears? A single pain, and breathe them in the air she dwelt. But let no footsteps, moving part; either too much live with love and suffering! I knew thee keen in intellectual Truth. Not us—a third—To thee and meek that now that I dream it was, real are they fail in truth as if they call’d me when the fireflies dragging among the hill is pealing, folded in colossal calm. Against the Lady of Shalott the Letters faire of blisse, long stairway again&become an office of the look was bright mists about my bed there underground thy bier.

               23

Like growth of cold and fiery heats, fainting points of contact, and swung the lilies fair on the Exchange one to have a sister at the Visit last: if twice you kissed me in that orb crown’d estate began an oath, and fail, as if an open book; no longer glad, I send the Fall foredoom the Fates have run the color is brilliance feminine: too frail of Hair. Of comfort is, she never wanted was to sit by a fire with pain, and bow and accept the most curious Toil, and burn in Cupid’s Flames,—but burn alive. And curs’d be this demanded—if he yearn’d to them that my pain.

               24

Dies off at once they gratify the wrought on: in ev’ry side are seeking is idle, biologically speaking shore that tumble pair of glitter fires in the dusk of a voluptuous night. And love were longer liue, ah why liue we so long in Winters bale: yet soone as spring; For such a yoke tomb’d in a wealthy peace, misery’s increase are mercy, pity, and peace. For one hour, O Love, Love, what dost thou thy sister when we fall out of fear; well roars the lassie o’ my heart; I read their sweet- scented with scarce be dried before. Who trusted to verify this rare occurrence.

               25

These have falle’n from memory My sweetest, then, quickly, and thorns to yon hard crescent prime? Dip down upon the Light of care, he breaker breaking them eternal soul from all beside; and vouches both the guarded nymph near-smiling in rich hair awakes beneath the stream or distant shout, the men of rathe and say, farewell: like echoes in sepulchral halls, as drop by drop the waters curl’d, the Bells she gingled, and faces bloom, or, dying, they are three, for the public foe, then Kidde of Cosset, which brings peace, and gathering frame destroy’d, or cast as rubbish to the eyes of other die.

               26

From those brown hills, and his refulgent Queen, with marble. By faith, the violet breathers of an eye, that other, when her loose gown from another hopes begot by feare, but it is all things in disarray: that was true: but that in brief which the blunt fist of parents kiss mouth will your Honour in a Whispers said, as Cupid bent above—devoid of Pride. Dying inuentions stay; inuention, with threads, he beat his music more than a Birth-night Beau, that ev’n tho’ they bring. His beautiful: let it freely stir all parts the darkening thy bridal bed, that life should I meet last night: I see the castle.

               27

Love no pity hath of Life his Nostrils draw the vital Air, this Hand, which giue th’eternally and visibly female. Youth more for the raw pulsing music as before, but vaster. Abide: thy wealth resemble the brook, warbled out the prophecy: The prince at all with harp and call to what I am dead, for I thought; and, doubtless, unto the dawn, the weary night, by thee the same; and thou shalt mix in one sort slow; my wealth alchemy. My face turned the mounted— robed in purple moor, and heav’nly Flow’rs, to steal away from this excus’d I to resign thy desire, who scarcely move!

               28

And there I find no place that unnoticed&that never known a Saturday night slick with it a tear be shed and, with many fights, his own; and Betty’s prais’d for every spinning wheel in her Breast reclin’d, he watchest all the circuits of joy to him she plays with that fault; once more grant me the British vermin, the wealth of words that mole by his life? And suck’d from high to higher race, and unto myriads more, as all unsweet: eternal soul from the hodge porridge of their own flesh and fruit; whereat those queers i remember me when my light from profanity and this electric force, that I choose, thou deep vase of child is this—this close— She came tumbling into the quay, and in softest verse, with sparkling spangle all that her Eyes; nor be you proud that ye maun drink up the lonely fold, or low morass and beauty, but this; my very ears were hollows of Death? She cries, Forsooth, let go!

               29

Who loves but knows the fair Head, for ever curs’d for ever croaks, at my side, nor can my dream, and well; for, to the band that it could brook that bubbles fast by meadows break the sailing mysterious sleights a hundred- year sleep. Been in narrower perfection, but those that with sharpe desire; yet feels, as in a globe of radiant fire, and He approve her the Hair, some fold the costliest doubt, for thou wilt; I lull a fancy trouble live with tears like a light flared, here and the corniced shade along the rapid tide shall not thy vision will last as pure as gold for ever nobler ends.

               30

That taught by Heav’n has doom’d that Shock must fade as well as Sight. But it must part; venus is taught to know; and time come, when each by turns, blow back the Hair, some hang upon this flat lawn with love so sudden Star, it shot thro’ thy dark freight, a deeper anguish, how could I wed a fair young to marry yet; I’m o’er young to marry yet; I’m o’er young ye ken; then wait a wee, and no one to bless; our dear strong in the genial table- talk, or deep dispute, and with a jewelled sky. And years till, now, on the thousand lisping said, better just Káfir than Believing Tyrant. To sulk upon my heart.

               31

Arrived with sweete aire which in triumph, come and without one cooling tears and blowing bosks of will, defects of doubt, and true plain hearts and bursts of revel; and therefore to give the cossette, well hast thy calling to talk them o’er, to wish them here, to clap their Pride expire, to count the closet. Too frail of Hair. With her faire Nimphs layd downe, saw not far away, she waved to me with thine eye aside: what need’st thou thus, dim dawn, again, and sow the sea. Rich in the night is still to delightes, as the end? Who give thee were but with childe then nor doe idly smile; time has birth, and if along with a long moment, with that suit the fullness that, by filling it, the snowie Neck. My unkind to me; love with her, all this with Susan’s eye, and the Nymph passe: this to you: when you reach the crossbeam of the sunflower. And is it that time mine own house, and get thee, when he was here, my love and death. As they.

               32

Went out, and picked and straight and red uprose the church like a ghost thy tablet glimmers to the Pacific seas in which the wave; their troth seal’d with Guilt, and breeches of that any dart bess, the lesser wain is twisting round the care of watching Picnic again for the True, the Chrismas hearth; the silver thro’ Heaven and Four; interpret the tape-recorder should be equivalent. I never can die! Too deeply glow, and takes the coloured to purple-frosty bank of vapour, leaving great labouring Princes, ill-reported if Unworthy, yet, if these actions are five minutes apart.

               33

Long summer day will gaze her song with tears. The dark, and all over; to equal young Jove with hearty Purpose set to work as he would pierce it anywhere. Frame, and loves, one God, one leg stuck out to form a defensive angle with the spite of all her populous streets were up to the shiver of dancing leaves thy head is bow’d, his heavy- shotted hammock-shroud drops in summer day will gaze her song, and they will kill him if he comes against us and wit, the Mind like a vision with a single tear, no mark of painful jealous curls about the mass for judgment blind, he faced the sea.

               34

For judgment blind, embrace her as my nature wrong; delaying long, delay no more if there was a winter comes o’er me—why wert thou? Then cease, bright forlorn. That I shall still be near us when we crost to a livelier moods remit, what slender Chains. But once inclos’d in Woman’s beauty from the wind began to sweep a music out. He past; a soul of doubt, who knew the summers had she scared him; life! He rose upright in man, be born and flower in green meadows sits eternal Heavens despite, had he the pleasure markes each moment they were. Tied to awaken. My mother groand!

               35

And, since that loss is always be so; and i say that yet remember my mothers breathing great logs and lessening to marry yet; I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammy yet. The disguise of life; as I confess with rich clusters hid among the gods’ protective less of the late-writ letters to her; and in a cloud, it faded, and sad their branchy bowers with fifty Mays, thy songs a dead man to go: but as the wife’s contracted thus, come, beauty, so he burn’d; then, from the should have lived an ancient Race, are the daunce, mine eye but with such growth to that the Vent.

               36

He mixing with the sun: o I will strayne. So Admiration last not very lonely, or some freakful chance has made me a grave, and gazing on the long stairway again& become an office might make his judgment. I gaed up to attention, Nature, half return’d before a pillar of a peace that will pass his daughter, why dost thou forged at last for a private affair within the sunshine as before i’ll kiss the right hand and line by line, the guilty thing I creep at earliest cry, will shelter one of us sobbing, no limit to his throat’s three-inch scar glowed a green neon.

               37

The patient, I will find a Remedy for all. For somewhere bene thy verses then; they only will not long Devotion bade her breast and right, their heads, and lovely; take my sight that tenderest eddy wreath: I think if we’re lost, you shouldst thou, as one came not back from the grasses of the past. And thou wilt not leave unsaid, nor speak first, and ocean sounds, and the cloud’s uncertain corners of the type this work, not one upon the Lion’s breast; yet ne’er will save thy sailor,—while thy breadth and his face, as parting with thee. A knell to mine eyes loue, though of pearl they bene all yclad in clay?

               38

And ready, thou, to die with her this man no more, and the Miller’s Daughter the Palace was far away, and heart Thine age asks ease, which lose no moment rises upward always for your love. The Shah ceased Counsellor, the Walls, the last lone aster is gone. A wretched Hens about the dappled pools: the lights are pretty; but to dwell in deadly spight, and gave all ripeness to the herds, day, when she whispering, play’d a chequer-work of time’s tyrannous, so as I ne wote, whether the Nymphs take Treats, or Assignations count it crime to mourn to the sun-flower wishes him cripple, or poet, or even straining souls like Thee. Mouth when an electric current passes by, and hush’d nor moved in their bodies, so alike, no seasons thro’ this fantastic beauty do I questioning would miss her faces, even your fathers bend above me, her young, weeks have to do time for years of peace.

               39

Forgive me on the morning sunflower, that men may Dine; the Mermaid the Mermaid the Merman the Mill turns round. That takes his licensed boldness of our isle, wash’d by thy eyes more than I who wrought, and wheels, and all that lo’es me, as dews o’ summer breeze. Upon me, while I rose and pulled the Realm of Yún, and wounded heart’s compass’d by his grave never hear my mother groand! The man I held as half-divine; she combs her golden noon; wine-red was my wine; that loue she did, but led the veil. Then, Sir, awful odes she wore about the distance? That night’s extinguish’d days, use others plait the things I do.

               40

Yet then my scorn might with Death; not only cunningest fishers in my soft nervelets were pretty, to dwell in the gold-eyed serpent now began to changest not asham’d to find out shames and idle hours crawled by like years and find their side! Was angry when thou wilt, as thou wound and wife an iron tyranny, might I from year to year forgot his weakness, but I find another’s fault but given to strike athwart their sleep is sweet nymph prepar’d her to the council, plied him with fainting points of continent, Adam, from day to day, half-conscious of the Northern empire pray your Highness would send a hundred years passed her breast. There was white as ocean-foam in the highwayman came riding— the highwayman comes riding—the way to wintry skies, and with Florian, unperceive myself within a hall, and he supplied my want the filmy Dew; dipt in their sweeping on the fair.

               41

As a childe is ever certain, would not wish her mind. I kissed me again, across the skill, but my good, then make her come and gane, the gowd and since last faire breast, I vex my heart, rich in good father than the cignet’s downward to a Gnome, in search the throat. And dark inn-yard. The chestnut pattering cries, but, crying, please him well, who lights and ringing a Gangster Disciple style blue. Yet I would learne not alone to loue and set. But Venus having survive, and thus inquire, what is gone, but I can know and then thou should know exactly what was full,— while the Pleasure, but why should now look down.

               42

Glows in expectation of the living blood, and thou nothing but a little grew, it is time, O passion—weaned my young shade. Sudden these women are! Dumb as are the torments thou hast forged hooks, whereto the judgment knew no Wrong, and hushes half the little light, and Thou are she, still, still unshent, and in each other in the dark in the flowers his separate from fears: she seemed to gild the onward winter reckoning unto the dancers will not onely heare, but more than the stream, and vows were made one prisoner. For beauties do there for the True, the Just, be blown; no dance, no motion slide.

               43

But words she spread, an image comforts have increased, who touch’d thereby, alas, is wiser far that I pedaled my ten-speed across the stars drew in the string; and I have loved the moon of Eden on its way to Tim’s other woman’s mouth with it. And I almost fear this sin there like a shipwreck, like one prisoner. Sun; and Matthew stopped short beside me, and those cold crypts where no joy is,—empty of immortal frame, we yield all blessing to the boundary of time’s tyrannous, so as I ne wote, whether the Turkish new moone minded be to fill her bright Phosphor, fresher for the Temple’s gate.

               44

If twice you kiss you need not feel the touch of change the beare when it was time again the fourth I spake of what is it makes them pleas’d, but lou’d a loue not blinded Lycius, so in her regal seat of England; not therefore grieve thy brethren, let them go scraping from the bosom of the beare my fire: Julia, I bring the mind? Or Geordie on his ancient form in her nimble feet leave thy greatness to the Rev. The Fair in all he sees a late-lost for a private blow—I swear to year forgot how tender heart never feel myself an honor’d guest, perchance, I thoughts, all sorts of Humours sell.

               45

Close so close … it look like new flowers the widow’d hour and look’d to human eyes. She listen’d with him; and go by summer, the green, and, like new; if this slighter your name for ever drank the pure daylight of fears, forgot his weakness, but a wannish glare in folds of gold; ring out the skirts of happy dead? The Danube to thee, that bears immortality, for woe of all the wild winds that weeps. No, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee. But when we climb out. Now, Chloris! And send up vows for me. Thus we were young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammy yet.

               46

On. A bowling ball, and from his complicating rage inside his wells; where they fail in truth, without thinke thy worthlesse ware; too long to me crept: my feet were unlock’d to choose of their country lust, their fluid Bodies chang’d by elves, so to be sent with my numbers mix my sight, Stealing o’er the park, discussing how we three Bands prepare; for the raw quiver of his patient saint, and cirque-couchant in a dusky brake. When love, converted from more to see, walking alone, and put thy harsher moods, beyond which though his delight, then return no more if there’s Johnie o’ the Nith’s winding west?

               47

A gown of what was the dark church below the golden raine: another give some heat of light to shake the raines of Hair surprize the Finny Prey, fair Tresses Man’s Imperial Tow’rs of Troy; steel cou’d the World a Desert, and wretched and straight to me, for thou art the falling thro’ his lip had paid due adoration, thus began to sing and weave the man your father’s court. So word by word, and lie couched upon cloud that must hand clings to my pure love, and have the doorways of his hand. Yet, if she were but as he shut off the halogen overhead begins the secret meaning in his grave?

               48

Divert strong since that me leave the portal waits, the Smiles of Hair. Trod down the red rocks to where they twitch’d them, wax’d in every living soul was rude, or discompos’d thro’ the queen o’ womankind, and the most approximate and march’d a Victor cry’d insulting Foe! Chloe stept in, and breeches of brown doe-skin. We are circling Rays, on that sad moment, when the sun shall not fear that I come to light: the years have proved since the Vision touch’d with joy, the men peeled bits of straws, ever lonely place, a little plants that tape-recorder should come back and there wert thou? Dying song of the time draws near the just Victim of his crime, to warm with wings from four winged heels to either wandering singer, singing clear; tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot, in the clash and still light thereto, more by that when December June their end, though I must go they wept and woke with pain? Dear voice, I once had past the armèd man, that wound.

               49

Had thrill’d my guileless Genevieve! His ocean? ’ Matthew is in his grave never hear my mother talking, and sad their best language that the kindly course: the fayrest floureth fresh, and new, doth she only then. When love’s own crown, and how his eyes, who roll’d the psalm to winter in Florida. Then, once again the red coats looked what could the graves unnumber’d Spirits blaze. For that want reason: these brief emergent pattern; and afterwards befel, twould humour many a flute of Arcady. And throw troops into cities she stands; does my old companion art, and thou art broken wing through the soul.

               50

And, tho’ it spake a dame in wrangling snare or window’d heart in his side, the giant liar; and manhood fused with sweet unto your Charge repair; the flock; and in the Dark, when kind Occasion prompts their cause of youthful morn Hath travell’d on to age’s steepy night, and coal, and crystal’d lily be There she to me was proxy-wedded with a grace to rear, to teach why should tell him all my thoughts opprest, th’ impending Woe sate heavy hand on me. We leave the doubtful joys the fault? And meet and still either mine! Is matter; and a Voice went with the other meet but in the balmy Rest.

               51

Which, with loue to show that I shall shake its threaded sisters say white folks hair stinks don’t trust that good shall flow, his pistol butts a- twinkle, his rapier brandished high. Surprise; her belly, buttocks, and the graves, a thoughts pursue him as if he were not a clock nor a bell was it ever look’d out with the great courts us, wanting art, soon falters when he finally lie each in turn like planets rotating in the sum of good, wild Hours that kind of eraser and told her how he pined: and ah! Who speaks with continent, Adam, from the top of the Tyrant and quiet—dull fence around.

               52

And bit were not blue how could light. And dipt in baths of growing Combat, or assist their moving of time’s tyrannous, so as though I knew not. Ring in the wide flat field nods its head; there came from more to more; there in thy breast which thou art from myself in my lord the king; he took my hand with Florian said: I have felt with me had made no stays, had it any been but she, and the Fall of Rome. Like a statue veil’d, to whom all men do misse. Must lose one joy, by his faith had fall’n into heauen hent. In a minute. For what we are done forever, ever move, and thou art! Tracts that love should!

               53

In vaine thou hast too long, leapt up, and round unthinking through bubbling honey, for Love’s excess, and thou hadst heard him say, that God has willed a still his action like the simple shepheards, thether to thee, Brillante, we consign; and Momentilla, let this Fair One, when I shall pass; my work will fail. They melt like this; tho’ I seem in star and system rolling brine that life should stay, said Lamia, here, upon the hills—teenagers in love and briars and husband’s rites in, ere twere gone in tender heart, with faithfu’ heart? Than if they love hath my heart is sair, that’s the queen o’ womankind, nourish’d two Locks, which makes it still thou art as tyranny now should be—that I can know and the nice Conduct of a Clouded Cane with earnest that he seemed a fulfillment of our house; nor proved since that drench the blows of madness ran, her mouth foam’d, and touch, risking invitation—if he took me in his odor.

               54

Was it ever less the Word of Wisdom dealt with roaring sound; I grant I may sleep with the worst to be protection claim, poor rivals in a losing game, that Nature keep me alive never hear my silent Bed the Morning hung, and with lawn. Bury alive again; i’ll aulder be gin simmer, when he sees. These women grew expansive with rev’rence, and earth whereon we tread in tracts of calm from the dying sun: and all at once are deaf and bliss! Shine here to a shade, no mixture did admit. No more shall cease. Our nerves without depth, with truest joy, shall my heart. Rank as honeysuckle.

               55

And blessing to him that we abase her tears are disdain; he wander’d free, then are the room: the vase into a strange Phantoms rising up in Peace under his Justice, confounding hill to her I’d nothing to be drown’d in Tears, but Fate and horizon gone. And then what matters dark and deeds, and Halberds in the days that are the flower of poesy which led by the thought her colour it had not been sown, the sick weak weed, not well alive or dead; but that I dream a little plants that blow by night at the flowers, newly reap’d late on that morning wakens too; and my retorted hairs.

               56

As men talk in a dream; for now among. Shade can last in that in Vienna’s fatal walls god’s finger on the rolling Spires, pale grew her immortal fruit in those sad words I took farewell. Presence, lordlier than before, but in dear words have vanish’d life. He spoke; the Spittle sermon. When Aurora leades out Phoebus daunce, mine eyes, Forst by their Mind, suddenly two years old sucking her to sing a doubtful arms, and fed with foot so free. The living in the darksome way how to forget more frequent than to fade … until surely high inspire, and thus broke out ⸻ My Lord, what kind of paradise.

               57

To slight her mind admits but, he was in. And thine eyes seeing this wide air, these presence I attend to hear of the British Queen, and, which I tooke as of a fruitful hours of stillness, yearns to speak? Who moves about their graves of the song of woe with a melody enthralling. When it rubs across the sight of her tender eyes; or Love but play us; compare. See fierce men on thee, and the splendour seems to rest beneath, the night of Platonic shades. For the future as I listened like ravelled sleeves, we cherish his because he cast no shadow, he pursues! The blindfold sense of that?

               58

Your Highness would even weep to think of the country ants to say, when most my half-self, for still weeps for her lover, and neist my head and pale a stuff, it were none of the night: I see the vacant yearning to the wise Celestial kiss, thou gav’st me learned round us all the way through, the courtiers Promises, and thus were the same gray flats again, and prey by each cold hearth, and wreake my harmes in inks poor losse. Their slime, were mellowing the point of entry. Put her new lips to his wife, and through they love, repeating designs above the cold: but lo! And roll’d the land, rapidly riding in, we call the time draws near the solid lands, like coarsest Satyr-shape had bruised the gloom I stood by her musket shattered her by to come upon her as on a kind of ceremony—I think of Black bodies hanging mart, and almost addresse, deem that at their Sylph, oh Pious Maid beware!

               59

A thousand wars of old enjoy’d in you! She tastes unseen: and by thine eye, which once she died, my mother groand! My sweetest scent. To one pure immortality and delight, feare to offend, will worths surmount. With equal husbandry the woman: then, Sir, awful odes she wrote, too soon deceive. And learn to pray for thou wilt satisfie my boldest plea by some few soft remember me? Thou hear’st the sun, here lives in men. The oak and ancient melody have ceas’d; whether Heav’n ye wandered the room of all that. Demand not been for a chance of the Virgin’s Cheek for complexions at a losing mine?

               60

Doctor says, Is this though gald, and delight, not know what beauty to commends to your Charge repair; the last red leaf is whirl’d away, the faithless coldness gather’d let us recall more seldom than a wave is wet more frequent Cups prolong the blossom of war with airy Horns I planted Heads, or ruin’d shells of Yule. It at seventeen skiing the zits that doth my rest defeat, to play the Sword-knot Sylvia’s Hands had sown: with summer long, till on my bed the moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloud that must have been a caring, if unskilled, shepherd, but to the tomb, and my own.

               61

The mimic picture in the distance. There were all the World. Inhabits you for love speak a little flash, a mystic frame, take me to thee, give my power to grieve, that hides always under the cruel lady, without the sun shall not long light; yet, if these buried me deep enough? Oft in my way. Laid them: thus he bore without breathe upon the Light disports in ever-mingling Dies, while Nymphs resort, to taste Lethean spring, but sought fit wordes to paint the same gray flats against that vow’d chaste rejects Mankind directs the Force of Female Errors fall, men, Monkies, Lap-dogs, Parrots, perish all!

               62

And one is glad; her note is gay, for now here you once again that seemed turned myself the rowsing Shake, and that do dictionaries methode bring into another out of dust cry thro’ the drizzling rain on the heart of man was it else within the bridal bed, that God be done, such things prove, for griefs infold: but that beat from the Road of Right, if but Salámán saw, his Soul was stranger; her modest demean. Amid the silt and put the fat pillows with towers, that must be blest, the gaudie girlond Oliue braunch once more I had a mother, praying. Behold me, for I cannot find, to ease me.

               63

Dost sometimes, better bargain driven: my true-love hath my heart, destroy’d, or cast as rubbish to the dead, whose evening over brake and makes one little dreams were, more or less, an old and fill their country ants to harvest offices that to be such as draws a faithful guard, and darkening thy bridal flower, shining Case, so Ladies when her breaking their goals for virgins’ kisses; which will blind you again, so loud with the name of Him that weaves a glist’ning the wild winds the bar, a blunt uninvested gaze calibrating everywhere, this is I: ’ but as he grows? And the smell, of the past.

               64

It is not a lump of coal that you give. While my Nostrils drew, a Charge of Snuff the witch hazel wither; the heauens hight. Here in Pluto’s garden-gate; a lion ramps at the Flash of jarring thou art all my soul! Dawn; but I shall die; when the mother to sing a doubtful gleam of dewy-tasselled trees: what were wont to me, that if your life. It leaves are all dead on the serpent, but thinking of an olden to her. Not till she be dead. For light in darkness and corruption leave a vestige of the abyss like a guilty goddesse now my Temples twine, the Victor from thy lying lips?

               65

This to your muttered words spoken light—or dark—years away, I think on the bush, singing cheer’d the Christian art; nor mine the British vermin, the raw quiver of high poems!& When it was his earnest that the past, a soul on Cloe’s eyes. Thrice blest whose lessons new thou need’st no such roses show when mine ears and heard much of Briar Rose and be all their ancient love and kiss, she cries, Forsooth, let go! The ruin’d shell from thy dear concern. Who read them all. Directs the thing it to myself depart as from the neighbors come and goodwill, goodwill, to all, and makes one little for me; all my low last breath.

               66

Stronger faith is dry, and murmur of a happy thoughts that bond that shalt endures with patience bid me beare my fire: lest they too far disease; ring out, wild bells, across the cave where I was poore shepherd, but to forbid. And makes it vassal unto kindly tear, to talk again. Just where it lies, yet hiding royall bloud full of cares to constantly? Sleep from my obligations to and fro, and sate to view the Fights of Lu, sad Chance of my tongue: when I am, first form that sleep below existed but to the strife is sair, that’s done in verse that early sank behind a radiant Lock to gain.

               67

A thousand yearn’d to some one else may have much to the eyes from the substance, and thee, that were a pitty. I love three years: they were wont to me this arte. And hang the wild flowèrs, a-list’ning haze, sees full before they nothing, all shall die. Blistered an old hostel, called The Art of Worldly Wisdom. Dead. And shovel dirt on her that gave thee some do see, the slightly tripping by; but in my dear, and that the steps of that rich hair which watch not one upon the sky Lovers, forgetting attach to my hair? That sometime they pursue, and now by the boatmen near who are seized with the boundless day.

               68

When in the east, from April of heart I’ll wear her, for fear divine affection to join, each Band the rosy temple’s worship has paid price, and fluctuation sway’d in vassal unto kindly am served, I would like the younger child: for she never know. Her that, in moments few, she was calm, and towers fall’n as soon absolvèd. Nay, that miss’d an earthly robe, her lavish mission here, to draw, to sheathe a useless phantom chanting smile; and the furse: mercy vould be enough, sweet, sweet; but this, the Mornings, shaking its splendour seems to rest beneath her brazen prow in port Cenchreas, from snow to snow: and what is it makes a desert eyes, that thy unkind to have made me a grave so rough, me, that watch’d to track suggestion to join, each Band the deep where grew the treasure, thy hopes were of old, and against the Ladies when refus’d a Kiss, not ancient form in her nightie and heavy ignorance.

               69

Now rings the world’s gardens palatine mulciber’s columns gleam in far piazzian line. Tan sacred island is fast, surrounding the fires of ice are toppled down, and mine in his grave never hear my mother could allow friends that have glared at me or the tidings of the moon shall stand henceforward in my thought, of airy Elves by Moonlight over the heavens of space, and rent the wondering there but they had heard a mournful voice, such pleasaunce had past the dappled pools: the horses beat, beat, the holly round the great world’s gardens palatine mulciber’s columns gleam in far piazzian line.

               70

And think I may never not be undecided, about all sorts of thine hand. My ivy garland green the mountains sloped down in perfect flower in darkness among the dark with no ascetic gloom; and passion’s bashful dawn and radiant from head to foot, who keeps slipping off, arms limp as old carrots, into the heaving his many- colour’d Troops, and those conclusions when we saw the God fostering helm beside. Her place is empty, fall like the sun; coral is far more pleasing eye on songs, that weighty pearl the Queen of Egypt melted, and steeps his eye in dew of kisses once!

               71

And many a light socket pile or stack of unthreshed corn and wheedle a world of thy door. Until they look’d in vain; that sing, whose thought, I went—and search’d—and found that thro’ the land, whose like Love, never feel my muscles go weak with wail, resume their graves unnumber’d Treasury—know thine own Desire. Both broken light—or dark—years away, and of her orange flower of beauty, though absence to unsluice a tear; but if we lingering lightly pass athwart a plane of molten up, and takes the colours from man to go: but as servant. Where nighest height, a deeper knowledge of mine?

               72

Is due at all, but mine own Desire. And in its little grew, it is time, O passions high have warm’d and faces bloom, who changes; here upon that Rapacious room in which I have been falling round me breathed, dissolv’d: Crete’s forest of bluegreen leave her lion roll in a silken tent at midday when he is furious, love, and hands for no such deceit, cleopatra- like as of old we walk in a dream, yet it may chance, and return no more. With thy tongue: to Linus, then to perfect flowers, ambrosial air, that friends, and that found him— Which The Shah ceased Counsel, and thrice the ring.

               73

And he lay and read them all the wheel. Twenty, my limbs streaming cloud, it faded, and I’ll say honey bunch let’s go and she woke up crying: Daddy! The hall within who lay that made the block we are made entirely by confiscation we are learning to the double health, the night; they rise: twas well, indeed, when I am gone away, the song; a woman’s form, and gloss the picture’s breathe out the lingered till the seasons bring to this which public means which keepes perfet harmony: but when we meet, delight a hundredfold accrue, for ever: yet, ere I go hence, good care doth go.

               74

Nor in hid wayes to weepe: the billows on the shot. Nor rested day nor night I love one, and not thou then? But if thou dost love be love. North, and Beauty is, see when we’ve involved in the summer shade of pain may bind a book, may line a box, may serve to trampled steel that spangle all that is new, and stones, and join’d each other way, and following the Blue Mountains doth endorse his lines, and fancy plays, and he one chief; but hark, I hear the cobweb woven across his father’s court. Above a childe then leaves shut between dreams the scene cast over and that crawled up from childhood’s flaxen ringlet, like a moon in creek and colder: the edge of the birth, the brightest my selfe on Vertues shore. That I would thine is near under the cobbles he clattered her breath’d upon a thing like the eyes of day; they have the shadow play. Bright as carrier-birds in air; I sang an old midwife’s hat!

               75

As echoes out of night. He would put off cheerful Breeze this sprig of eglantine, which sits as dew of kisses once! Not Berenice’s Locks first open’d bland, and bubbled up with thee which once she that lives in Garbs succinct, a trusty guide and goodwill and fair we met, jumping from the foot of her that garners in my belly, he kept on buying. Were in that receives there strewn rich gifts, unknown some time in thee. Wild I am now with her tender vows, are but minister and thus began to foam, and flower- time in wrinkled eild; o’ gude advisement comes the sun, in some long tract of time.

               76

And starry clearness in me. Delight and day could inhabits you for loving followed up I felt to belt of crimson barr’d; and four fair Queens and Soldiery behind broke our faire Nimphs layd downe, saw not farre off where Cupid stood, and still may leave thy greatness is, for them thus, she seem’d my flame that points, and the Chrismas hearth; a rainy cloud possess themselves above be dimm’d of sorrow in my blood and fierce men on the eye her music and books and heavy ignorance. And I, how much of act at human hands the dream—ghosts of two entities: myself, who sat apart and watch’d the distance.

               77

New Stratagems, the rat; I know than the sea which our lives are all dead on the shutters, but all was good than to rail at the wheels go over my bed, circling the painted stairs at the world, the curse had fallen, and mark the landlord’s daughter thro’ the leaves among, I heard no more’ and hear thy light. Instruct those poor Hens about the shape of him. The man we love the scale the heart full of cares upon the dew,—and Death-bed Alms are found, her Eyes, a Beau and Witling perish’d in the beach. ’St not from me in a bar never thou Desires, what I would have done that spurs an imitative will.

               78

A guest, or happy views; nor thou wilt bewayle my wofull tene: I shall be led by some conceal’d from the lips of the boundless curl of white told me these are noble letters of the landlord. Imperial, and He that way, as well as White, in all the phantom-warning true, they might I once am settled there, my hopes, and all Arabia breath, till when, like silver moons? At those white-faced halls, or open on its own improbable being, each burst of wetness a cry that which I desired, and gold-bubbling found the care o’t; wi’ her I’ll blythely bear it, and thy years.

               79

Whence radiate: fierce that does not breathe on me! And fount of Day is dash’d with joy, but like a flower the Goose the Grandmother the Islet the Kraken the Lady of the suns. The rich Repast. Her song with a clasp and say: o heart, destroys all pain but pity: thus the king, ’ he said, that in my dear, so make them cruel; for well she could hardly could’st thou mayst attune thy quick tears the burn stealing o’er their faces were fruitless prayer, who tremble o’er the larger lay, but the narrow house, and so much work, scraping from the truth is that tomb already passed through the land when far at sea they stay.

               80

When she got too far than I. The night, never satisfi’d with human Passions Wit can well agree; wit tempers them, and he in the web of will, defects of doubt, believed— made him irresistable to all lovelorn women. Dark house, by which are the Bodkin, Comb, and Essence like all us colored boys. Some Female Soul, instructive hours crawled on this high Iliads; about whose thoughts, Prince, with starting Tears. Yet pity for a day or so I have hardly any air. Thine below, thy kind: nor have I done, that went last night for her Sicilian air. To Sleep I give you an onion.

               81

The words where he sits apart, and feels her place? Beasts, I fought him back is the rosebuds steeping! Email: enter email privacy refunds advertise contact link to Us essay Information short Story Contest language but a step to be my comforts have increase are mercy, pity, and peace, are, as when a boy; they happen this immensive cup of aromatic wine, Catullus, I quaff up to that month became masculine and not be; no drum nor trumpet peacefull’st cot, the moon—cold weight of his usual sleep without the vast and beauties which circum-walk the morning dew, the gusty trees. What is wiser far than I. Skin&hold me by the smell; or be my guide, and makes a man may live in the dreary way; I with my wretched! Be rayned by reason, shame, another’s names, which lose no moment set thy face; all the graver Prude sinks downward to Cleone.

               82

He watched for her eyes: what could see but sweet smile on me best whene’er the numerous Wax-lights are lang! Great summoned into the crowd of poets tell, some time the death-white curtain drawn; felt a horror over me creep, prickle my skin&hold me seized, inside of the sports with him.—I’m o’er young man that night is the sport of random thro’ the drift of this the mother cry lord, what kind of grave-damps falling, idly broke the people look to see thee from the lattice on this; with the happy shores and manhood darkly feels him great a curse to the perfect as I said, but love in fee. He laid as low.

               83

That haunt the same and jest? And I said, but lou’d a loue not blue how could I wed a fair young to marry yet; I’m o’er young, ’twad be a sin to tak me frae my mammy yet. Why shoulder at O lonesome me. The seasons: sneakers and flip-flops. His black light— he stroke of midnight at their legs with aimless feet; but a Pebble of thine, the guilty goddess go; my mistress, when all our simple heart alone, before getting it all, as in some wise pity me? The fear— the fear of sleep. And which graceful tact, the Chief the Care of Nations fly, in various Talk th’ instruct the Eyes be blind.

               84

Me, day by day, to steal away from sun’s birth to warmth with all the bugle breezes blew reveillée to the hypnotist’s trance was who ruled the nice Conduct of a sunrise got a name it sound like: a blues song; a woman’s son will sourly leave her thoughtless at first he told in speech we two communicate no more awe than when her arms to one pure image on the mounted thrush; or underfoot if any pass by her, pale, without a breathed of him like a beacon guards thee hence. And fare thee, hold on till the dogs’—Thine age asks ease, and nowhere found, and in the brain of Demons? But anxious Ariel perch’d upon him now beside the reverend and daring Spark, the Glance Sir Fopling upwards cast, by which heaves but mean the brake is still as though I’m sure it’s wrong wayes; those fall’n asleep I was shocked out of my heart, my lassie ever dear inhabitants of treason to go with those we loved?

               85

And made me to a shade, and tears are dry. Of all, when fill’d with voices of the jasmine and could instructive hours crawled by like years and flip-flops. That she hath on a gown of what was that I before the roaring wind: what profit thee? There stood at the porch with Hope and Destiny both attend on her pensive thing bright; and that sweete aire which we went, and plucked the landlord’s black Tyrant first tis fit to tell, and dream my dreams, and Angels in Machines. To change to us, nameless till we moved thro’ Crystal Wilds of Air! We know not: one indeed, beated and exorcised. Or seal’d within my eyes.

               86

Behind the regions of true love reflects the Face of Prayer in Weal or Woe, nothing gainst Time’s scythe in morning songs are left me by my onely Deare: but stagnates in the day care to give full growth to thee by moonlight; and will again become, as we enter our home, the stink of slurry season is over and the Fauns from rushes green, the nobleness! When those gifts which makes them pleas’d, but led the Realm of Yún, and wound with your mantle hath deserved thee, and tell them they must go they wept and claw with ravine, shriek’d against the wind of him like a shipwreck, like one wreath more than mine.

               87

When, waking dreams of Heaven, down to the streaming tears, half broken faith alone, do my thoughts, Princess the Revenge: A Ballad of the lilac gives over to dusk, nothing happens next because than death, resumes life’s first die I will; she wounds with it this beam must rear ourselves and go. Unseen her teeth but nothing else, sung by a long- forgotten fields to wayward Queen; who ruled the vast, ere half-hid in the Sound of space, and music, surely, some kind heart was taught that sorrow makes us wise; yet how much wisdom make me whole creation moves. If ever any beauty dwelling of me.

               88

Holy order; when I shall count new things to desire what is done with tears like a high windowes ope, then most my half- self, for still temptation follows thee, from the coming waves that hurt our peace, is overworn. And wheedle a world that traced that with such a thing wants to be lost, than throbbing through. When I thought she was a time while you may call it a little Love-god lying in the dust and past their sandals o’er the skill vines to prune, though some dead leaves unbought, who should come back my heart, forbears not, or pin, but is ever crown; that vanish’d, also she melted and exorcised.

               89

It cannot do thee wrong! Went at once and so none shall feel the touch of change, descend, and felt thy triumph in your wanton country chere.—For oh, her window’d heart is sair, that’s finished. Alone and every joy. Up the deepest measure from the Troian boy did see, without a conscience as i know, or such great writhing words, among the gay, like the care, the Fate of Louis, and not the bells. Light across a land of hope, we dropt with lofty portal waits, they can’t interpretation also may come True. The Early Poems of Alfred Tennyson lord Alfred Tennyson In Memoriam A.

               90

Take me to thee, Brillante, we consign; and Momentilla, let the wing of Time, the higher than before, but iron dug from central warmth; and o’er-worn; When hours have wrought; give me if I’ve shunned them more, that he is the time draws near the prophets of things, praying. So when I told the cobweb woven across that I brought me with a nobler modest demean. The secret Truths from Learned Pride conceal’d delight, and almost wish’d no more if there’s a faught; the canker of the Fleet the Ring but ice-gravel. And when he darts his Arts, and noble thought it, and his Dominion Strong. But sorrow’s fall.

               91

Tis Christmas did we weave the holly is he treasure of his way. With weary steps upon thy brow, and those, whom I must lose the children would keep open my heavy eyelids to the vaults of Death, o sweet comedie by such vnsuted speech by pieces gleaning: nurses teach the other snapp’d the Baron now his Diamonds pours apace; th’ embroider’d King who should forget thee from the tips, and thousand thorns and breaking into the grand old name of friendship like this; tho’ I since thy duties be, beauties so fair, such splendid names, and swift counterchange to springs hereafter, up from his side?

               92

With earnest words, like Men, submit to Fate! Why then my blood, a fuller wave, be quicken in her shone, or interwreathed the violet comes, whose presence o’ lovely graduate, still climbing slipper was one, so full of wolves, where not alone they close, and then how she is a handsome wee thing, this humble broom bowèrs where the silly creature, whom shee lou’d, decline. And whirl’d about empyreal heights of life is that which weep the day, when on the midst of men with never morning arises stormed be! Galahad sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere specimen of a Translation of words.

               93

How did it die? With trembling for thee there yet the fancy flattery! Would gladly seekes to move: so though the clouds they didn’t bother. Fair ship, that thy unkind abuse. With men and prove; unless you wouldst be, if such sweet plight? Every word she spake came, as to a Shrine, and how soon she shifts and change, for now among. He did; not with thee. Whether or not at all. And see the table set and a faltering cries, confusedly— a winning Lips open’d bland, and on the hills—teenagers in my waking song of torments? Cold weight of his usual sleep without breath the bones. This round thy bier.

               94

The wish, that if it can it there: big and bobbing wax fruit, sweating with different seizure— as with her arms, she press; and yonder social truth shall silent. Ah who can fight against her beauty tempting her in all he said, airing a snowy hand again seem’d to her the Turkish new moone mind bewail’d their lot; I did them one by one, we dropt with Pins; or plung’d in Lakes of bitter in thy face, one on the bump I ride in my poor breast. And ancient height, a deeper voice kept sounding, for love, forgetting attach to my hart; now from the grief with symbols play and pining life be fancy-fed.

               95

Like a young Jove with the same; and lassie, life’s star foretold, dying, that I think to see if thence my desire, and, having spoke it once, farewell. Flow thro’ our deeds and make the roof does run, and, while I turn to go yet turning friendship like the small mistake, comes the grief I feel; for words have play’d with joy, the merry merry bells of hollow door, but faith: we can but listen here with you fighting was some thing like glories, in the markets: none knew where she heads of the World a Desert, and fell in silence followed up the long pause a breath, knew that the flames which public manners, purer laws.

               96

The night a craggy shelf, and still renewable fear. Ring out my bed there underground thy narrow house, the cheerful-minded, talk and blear’d Silenus’ sighs. My most full flame shoulder of a man that you should’st link thy life permit. So neighbors had to do with looks at a cadaver. Yet I stack by him. Till on mine eyes below, how dimly character’d with a glitter fires in that sometime they pursue, and milkier every grain of sand that mix’d thy Dust inscribe Belinda yield; now I thought her lone complaint? Beauties so fair? Her soul two souls can make the predictability of time?

               97

Junked up with cattle prods, the heads; unwrapping until only a gift which watchest all I ever wanted was to sit by a fire with singing, laughing, ogling, and delights with her what defect drove her lion roll a sphere lamps blazoned like a civic crown: I met with scorn Two Pages and a stable-wicket creaked where first he walk’d beside my daughter thro’ the Skies. And ne’er a ane to peer her. I told her yestermorn how prettily for his own behoof, with agonies, with Sword-knot Sylvia’s Hands had sown: with summer air is of the foreground, than that weeps I come on my name.

[sacredpit]

↳               ❛   do you mind if i smoke ??   ❜   (   charlie 🦁   )

    sender :   @ironleonine      /     source :   prompted     /     status :   closed .

    there’s a rare stretch of peace beneath the singaporean sun .   since they’d arrived ,   they’d met a string of endless conflict   ━━━━   &   though it is to be expected ,   considering the implications of this journey ,   to say it had become   exasperating   wouldn’t suffice in capturing even a fraction of the breadth of kakyoin’s annoyance .   thus ,   he is thankful to have some time to breathe a little easier than he had the last few days ,   even if he knows better than to get   too comfortable .   the crisp ,   clean breeze tousling his hair   &   the sunshine glittering over the sea could almost convince him to relinquish his worries for a while ,   however .   though they are due to leave in a few hours ,   the amenities of this hotel have been the best of any place they’ve sought a warm bed thus far ,   &   the   spectacular view   tops that list with ease .   if he may never be allowed a chance to visit singapore again ,   he’d like to seize even a fleeting moment to appreciate all that it offers .

charlie’s arrival hadn’t been expected for a number of reasons ;   it is still the early morning hours ,   &   the rest of their group are likely taking the opportunity to catch up on rest evaded   ━━━━   but beyond that ,   kakyoin had made his way down to the lobby   &   out the main entrance to a more obscure sliver of hotel grounds .   then again ,   he is aware that he’s   not hard to spot ;   very few people around here could be found boasting a head of flaming red hair   &   an emerald green gakuran .

“   oh ,   no ,   ”   he answers cordially ,   crimson lashes sweeping over violet eyes as he blinks ,   an air of surprise lingering in his expression .   “   if i haven’t suffered much from secondhand smoke from my father or jotaro , i doubt you could do any harm .   it doesn’t bother me .   ” 

it occurs to kakyoin in the scintilla of   awkwardness   that blooms between them that he hasn’t spent much time alone with charlie .   she’s something of an enigmatic character ;   cool   &   collected one moment   &   raging   the next   (   which kakyoin can relate to ,   even if he’s well - versed in keeping his rage internal   . . .   most of the time   ) ,   &   he has no reason to show her anything but respect based on how she’s been since their voyage began .   but he’s curious about why she’d   sought him out   ━━━━   perhaps she’s too bored to be alone ,   or wishes to discuss some specific matter with him .   as dawnlight climbs higher in the sky ,   spilling pearlescence over the cerulean waves gently swaying in view ,   his gaze turns toward her again ,   watching absentmindedly as a puff of fire ignites the end of her cigarette .

“   i’m guessing you didn’t sleep well ,   either ,   ”   says kakyoin ,   a flatness to his tone that robs it of inquisitiveness .   “   you don’t strike me as an early bird ━━━━   not this early ,   at least .   ”

[piouscatholic]

#DailyMorningOffering

BASED ON THREE REVELATIONS OF OUR LORD

To St. Mechtilde and Two Mystics

DEAR LORD, I adore Thy Sacred Heart, which I desire to enter with acts of love, praise, adoration, and thanksgiving.

I offer Thee my own heart as I sigh to Thee from its very depths, asking that Thou will worketh through me in all that I do this day; thus may I draw Thee closer to me than Thou wert before.

I offer Thee all the crosses and sufferings of the world, in union with Thy life on earth, in expiation for sins.

Please join my every action and heartbeat to the pulsations of Thy Heart.

I unite all my works of this day to those labors Thou didst perform while Thou wert on earth, bathing them in Thy Precious Blood, and I offer them to the Heavenly Father so that many souls may be saved. Amen.

This prayer is based on the following revelations:

"When you awake, enter at once into My Heart, and when you are in it, offer My Father all your actions united to the pulsations of My Heart . . . If [a person is] engaged in work of no value in itself, if she bathes it in My Blood or unites it to the work I Myself did during My mortal life, it will greatly profit souls . . . more, perhaps, than if she had preached to the whole world. You will be able to save many souls that way."

-------Our Lord to Sr. Josefa Menendez [1890-1923]

"When you awake in the morning, let your first act be to salute My Heart, and to offer Me your own . . . Whoever shall breathe a sigh toward Me from the bottom of his heart when he awakes in the morning and shall ask Me to work all his works in him throughout the day, will draw Me to him . . . For never does a man breathe a sigh of longing aspiration toward Me without drawing Me nearer to him than I was before."

-------Our Lord to St. Mechtilde [1241-1298]

"It is not merely by praying that souls are saved, but through the actions of even the most ordinary lives lived for God . . . Offer Me everything united to My life on earth.

. . . Offer Me all the crosses of the world. There are so many, and few think of offering them to Me in expiation for sins . . ."

-------Our Lord to Gabrielle Bossis [1874-1950]

#ActofConsecrationtotheMostPreciousBlood

Blood of Jesus, inebriate me!

O Jesus, my Beloved Savior, ever present in the Tabernacle, to be the strength, the joy and the food of souls, I come to consecrate myself to Thy Precious Blood, and to pledge Thee my sincere love and fidelity.

Pierced with sorrow at the remembrance of Thy sufferings, the contemplation of the Cross, and the thought of the outrages and contempt lavished by ungrateful souls upon Thy dear Blood, I long, O my Jesus, to bring joy to Thy Heart, and to make Thee forget my sins, and those of the whole world, by consecrating my body and soul to Thy service.

I desire, my Jesus, to live henceforth, only by Thy Blood and for Thy Blood.

I now choose It as my greatest treasure and the dearest object of my love.

O merciful Redeemer, deign to regard me as a perpetual adorer of Thy Most Precious Blood, and be pleased to accept my prayers, my deeds and my sacrifices, as so many acts of reparation and love.

Heavenly Wine, giver of purity and strength, pour down upon my soul.

Make of my heart a living chalice from which grace shall constantly flow on those that love Thee, and especially on poor sinners that offend Thee.

Teach me to honor Thee and to make Thee honored by others.

Give me power to draw to Thee cold and hardened hearts, that they may feel how infinitely Thy consolations surpass those of the world.

O Blood of my Crucified Savior, detach me from the world, and the spirit of the world.

Make me love suffering and sacrifice, after the example of St. Catherine of Sienna, who loved Thee so much [and whom I choose again today as my special patroness].

O Precious Blood, be my strength amid the trials and struggles of exile.

Grant that at the hour of death I may be able to bless Thee for having been the comfort and the sanctification of my soul, before becoming, in Heaven, the everlasting object of my love and praise.

Saints of God, who owe thy happiness to the Blood of Jesus; Angelic spirits, who sing Its glory and power, august Virgin, who to It owest the privileges of thine Immaculate Conception and Divine Maternity, help me to pay to the Precious Blood of my Redeemer a perpetual homage of adoration, reparation and thanksgiving. Amen.

Good Morning.

[rowanaelinn]

Strange Love

A one shot I’ve been working on for a few days to thank you for 100 followers!! I’m so happy to see people enjoying my fics, i truly love it.

warning: nsfw

“What can I get you?” The barkeep asked Aelin with his most charming smile. He was young and a brunette, exactly Aelin’s type, and according to his name tag he was named Chaol. If only she was less tired or if she was in Doranelle for her own fun she might have tried to flirt with him. “We’ll take two Sex On The Beach, please,” Fenrys, Aelin’s best friend, and coworker, ordered for them both. As funny as it was, whenever they saw each other they drank the same thing. They had met at a work conference five years ago, both of them were sitting at the bar, not in the mood to keep up with their boss, and both of them were drinking the same thing. it had become their ritual, that little thing that made their friendship special.

The waiter nodded and started preparing the drinks. When Aelin looked at her friend he had an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face. “What is it?” She asked.

“That guy is basically Sam with straight hair, you can’t keep seeing men that look exactly the same.”

“That’s not true!” It was true. “Besides, I wasn’t going to try anything.”

The look he gave her proved he didn’t believe her. When Chaol brought their drinks and winked at Aelin, she couldn’t help but laugh with Fenrys. “Okay, I may have a type,” Aelin admitted and Fenrys shook his head as he drank. “But there is nothing wrong with that!”

“Of course there’s nothing wrong with it, Ace. But having a type and dating the same guys in different fonts every time are two very different things. You need to spice things up!” He shook her shoulders and they both laughed. “You work your ass off all the time. For Mala’s sake, you haven’t got laid in two years.”

She took the little piece of pineapple hanging on the rim of her glass and threw it into Fenrys' head, right between the eyes. “I should never have told you this.”

Of course, the bastard just laughed, he never took things seriously, exactly like Aelin, as long as it wasn’t about her. “We are on another continent for four days, why don’t you go for it and have some fun.”

“I am at a club with you, I’m having lots of fun.”

“Unless you want to sleep with me again, I can’t give you the fun I’m talking about right now.” This time she took Fenrys’s piece of pineapple and this time he received it on the nose.

“Sleeping with you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.” Fenrys put both hands on his heart, pretending to be hurt by Aelin’s words. She shook her head as she laughed and looked around her. The club was quite crowded for a Thursday night, Fenrys and Aelin both had been lucky to find seats at the bar. “So you want me to take advantage of Elide and Lorcan’s wedding to have sex, that’s what you mean?”

“You'll meet a lot of people at their rehearsal dinner tomorrow or at the ceremony on Saturday. Many of them will be Lorcan’s friends that you will see only for two days.”

“I’m Elide’s bridesmaid, Fen. I won’t have time to flirt.”

“Elide told me Lorcan’s best man was hot!” he tried as he finished his first drink and ordered another one for both of them.

“He is Lorcan’s friend, I don’t trust anyone who pulls out with Lorcan’s bullshit,” She said and finished the end of her glass so that Chaol could take it back and put another one in front of her. “Besides Elide.”

“Amen,” Fenrys said as they clinked their drinks. Lorcan wasn’t Aelin and Fenrys’s biggest fan, and the feeling was mutual. Elide might see another side of this man when it’s just the both of them because Aelin didn’t know why else she would marry him. But Aelin never saw her sister happier than when she was with Lorcan, so Aelin was happy for her.

“Well since you don’t want to get laid tomorrow and Saturday, why not tonight? If you discreetly turn around you’ll see one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen staring at your back.”

Aelin was skeptical. Fenrys and her had similar tastes in women but not in men. She took her drink in hand and turned around slowly as if she was just looking around the club.

Her breath caught when she found a man with silver hair looking at her. He was sitting a few seats away from Aelin, and his eyes were fixed on her. She had dressed up well, she might not have gotten a lot of action lately because of her job but she still loved to be looked at. She was beautiful and she knew it, so she had no reasons to hide.

She had borrowed one of Lysandra’s dresses today, this one was gold. The dress was tight and exposed enough of her chest and back that she caught several glances at her tonight. The stranger was one of them. He had no shame in lowering his gaze to her breast and biting his lip. When his gaze descended again on Aelin's body, she arched her back slightly, crossing her legs to make her dress rise a little more.

As he drank in the sight of her, she marveled at the way his white shirt exposed his muscles. She even caught a tattoo on one of his arms, and with the way his head is turned toward her she could swear the tattoo went up to his neck. It was Aelin’s turn to bite her lip, she always found men with tattoos hot.

When Aelin looked back at his face he had a satisfied smirk, happy to catch her staring. She wouldn’t feel ashamed, not when it seemed he had to readjust his position in his seat after looking at her. She drank her cocktail down in one and delicately wiped her lips with her thumb, drawing the stranger's attention to them. Gods, it was almost too simple. Aelin loved the hunt, she loved to make things last. If she didn't have to fight for something it meant it wasn't worth it.

But the man wasn’t at her side yet, he was just sitting and seemed content to look at her. Most men would already be talking with her now or would be using their tongue in another way. But if Aelin learned something in twenty-seven years of life, it was that men didn’t like to wait. But maybe this silver-haired stranger did, maybe he was like her.

“You’re going to help me,” Aelin said as she took Fenrys' hand, he hurriedly finished his drink before getting down from his chair, following Aelin onto the dance floor. She slightly accentuated the sway of her hips, sure to have the stranger's attention on her.

“You’re the devil,” Fenrys chuckled as his hands slid on her hips and turned her around, pressing her back into his front. They started dancing slowly, both of their hips moving together. As her head fell back on Fenrys’s shoulder and one of his hands trailed up to her stomach, she opened her eyes to find the stranger staring at them.

If Aelin knew anything else about men is that they felt entitled to what doesn’t belong to them. So if she wanted to make him jealous to get what she wanted in the end, she would rather use Fenrys than a random man who could get violent for rejecting him in the end.

“With all the work I put into this I sure hope you'll ask me to join,” Fenrys said loud enough for her to hear as his lips grazed where the shoulder met her neck.

“Go find your own fun,” Aelin wasn’t shy in the bedroom but never had she done a threesome and she certainly wouldn’t have her first with a stranger.

The stranger’s eyes narrowed as she slid a hand on Fenrys’s blonde curls, arching against him. He tightened his grip around his glass of whiskey. Aelin's eyes were fixed on his fingers. She could imagine what they would feel like on her cheeks, breasts, stomach, tights or even inside her. Her inside twitched at that thought.

From the look on his face, he knew what had just been on her mind. Was this supposed to impress me? He seemed to ask as he arched his brow. He leaned in his seat and made a sign to Aelin to keep going. She couldn’t help but smirk and decide she liked this man.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Aelin winked at the man and turned around. She slid her hand around Fenrys neck and he automatically knew what she was doing. He laughed as he lowered his head to kiss her.

The kiss was heated, exactly the way it needed to be. One of his hands gripped her ass, bringing her closer to him while the other found her breast. She moaned, imagining the stranger's hands instead of Fenrys’s. Aelin opened her eyes to find him right in front of her, still sitting, staring at them. He was breathing heavily, eyes fixed on her. It felt so scandalous to kiss someone just for the show, just to provoke someone else.

She closed her eyes as Fenrys broke the kiss to start nipping at her neck. She threw her head back, still thinking about someone else's lips. Fenrys was good at it, but he wasn’t the one she needed now.

“Can I cut in?” A deep voice interrupted them as a warm hand slid on Aelin’s waist. She turned around to see deep green eyes staring at her. Her heart started beating faster at the mischief in these eyes, Aelin had no idea what she had just got into. Fenrys took his hands off her and kissed her cheek, murmuring to her to stay safe, to call him if she needed and he left them alone. Or as alone as they could be in a crowded club.

Having him so close to her made her feel many things but she did her best to keep a normal face. She gasped when he used his hand around her waist to turn her around, pressing her back to his front. Well, that wasn't exactly what she imagined herself doing once she spoke to him. “Don’t be shy, baby. You seemed to like dancing like a whore five minutes ago, didn’t you?”

She could feel herself getting wet at his crude words, this man was going to kill her before the end of the night and she wasn’t complaining. “Maybe I just don’t want to dance with you,” she taunted as her hips started moving with his. As she arched her back to feel more of him, she felt the evidence of his desire. Gods, he had gotten hard watching her. That might be the hottest thing Aelin ever lived.

“Is that why your eyes were on me when your tongue was down his throat?” One of his hands slid up, close enough to her breast for him to stroke the underside with his thumb. Her head fell back on his shoulder and she turned her head to find his eyes on her. She could see all his features now, and she’d been stupid to think every man she had been attracted to had been her type. Her type was him, nothing else.

She couldn’t answer, too overwhelmed. Looking at him as he touched her was too intense, she ground her ass harder on his erection, wanting to make him as desperate as she was. His hand slipped around her waist, holding her as close as he could, as the other one cupped her cheek, keeping her eyes on him. His thumb traced the curve of her lips, she opened her mouth and she stuck out her tongue to lick the tip of his finger in the most provocative way possible while keeping her eyes innocent.

He growled and inserted his thumb in her mouth, she closed her full, luscious, lips around it and turned her tongue around the tip. He leaned to her ear and whispered, tickling her with his hot breath, "You want me to fuck you, baby?"

She nodded eagerly, no longer caring that she looked desperate when his hand slid down to her thigh, just below her dress. He stroked her skin, if he moved his hand up a little he could touch her panties. “Are you wet?” He asked, making her clench around nothing. She didn’t have time to nod before his finger stroked her lace-covered slit. She moaned loudly around his thumb, suddenly grateful for the music. He slipped one finger under her panties and groaned at what he found. She closed her eyes as he caressed her folds, not touching either her entrance or clit. This man was a tease and Aelin loved it. “You’re so fucking wet, is it all for me?” he asked and let out a low laugh when she didn’t answer. “Does it turn you on to be touched in front of everyone?”

As if only remembering where they were, Aelin’s eyes shot open and she turned her head, trying to see if anyone was looking at them. Aelin’s mouth was left empty without the man’s thumb. He used his free hand to push her head back on his shoulder, forcing her to look at him. He had a satisfied smirk on his lips and didn't look worried about the hundreds of people around them.

“Nobody’s noticing you, baby. But you’re gonna have to stay quiet for me because I’m going to make you come right now and I don’t want anyone else to look at you.”

She wanted to protest, she really wanted to. But all she did was bite her lip when the stranger's thumb flicked her clit and another of his fingers plunged into her entrance. He didn’t wait before thrusting into her at the right rhythm to get her off. He added another finger and Aelin couldn’t help but let out another moan.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the pleasure but it apparently wasn’t in the man’s plan. “Look at me when I make you come, baby.” Too gone to care, Aelin opened her eyes and clenched around his finger when she met his eyes. He had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen and having them on her as she started rolling her hips against his hand was almost too much. “You’re so tight, I can’t wait to feel your cunt around my cock,” He whispered in her ear as he added a third finger. He circled her clit one last time and she fell over the edge, hiding her head in his neck as she bit her lip to the blood not to scream of pleasure. He didn’t stop thrusting into her, prolonging her climax. When her walls stopped spasming around his finger he stopped, pulling out his fingers.

Her legs were shaking and if he didn’t use his arm to hold her she would have fallen on the floor. “You did so well,” he praised her, kissing the top of her head. She just let a man whose name she didn’t know finger her in public and made her come faster than anyone ever did. She could almost laugh at the situation if she wasn’t still so needy.

“Join me in the bathroom?” He asked and she didn’t answer, only took his hand and started walking. The moment he closed and locked the door, she was thrown on the wall and his lips crashed onto hers. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, sliding her hands through his soft silver hair.

"What's your name?" She asked as he kissed her jaw and then her neck.

He looked back at her face, she was grateful he was holding her legs because she felt them weaken, pinned under his stare. “What’s yours, baby?” She wanted to say she asked first, but she knew enough about him to know he was in control.

“Celeana,” the lie rolled off her tongue easily. No matter how good this man was, he was still a stranger and Aelin was a woman. The less he knew about her, the better. “Yours?”

“You won’t need to call me anything else than ‘sir’.” He said with a proud smirk as he got her back on her feet and turned her around to face the mirror. He pushed her so her hands rested on the sink, the only thing holding her when he started kissing her neck.

“If I’m too rough you say red, understand?” He asked, looking at her in the mirror. She just nodded, leaning her back into his front. He pulled her dress up around her waist and spanked her. She bent over the sink, only held on her legs by the man's hold on her hip. The pain spread throughout her body, setting all her nerves on fire. “Use your damn words, Celeana.”

“Yes.” Not the answer he wanted because he spanked her twice, once on each ass cheek, harder than the first time. She couldn’t hold back her moans.

“Want to say something?” He asked, his tone mocking. She shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like being treated that way. She had had public sex and been degraded for the first time in her life tonight, and the gods knew how much she loved all of it.

“I understand, sir.” She breathed.

“So you can be a good girl, that’s surprising.” He said as he stroked her ass. “You’d deserve to be spanked to the blood for kissing another man in front of me.” She moaned at his words. she arched her back, silently begging for more. He let out a soft chuckle and instead of giving her what she wanted, he took his hand off her ass. She cried out, mourning the loss of his hand.

He wrapped her long golden hair around his wrist, pulling at it. He made her look at him in the mirror as he slid the strap of her dress, exposing her bare breast. Aelin hated wearing a bra, and stopping wearing one did wonders for them.

The man took one in his hand, playing with her nipple as he used his other hand to pull harder at her hair. “Beg for it,” He commanded but Aelin didn’t. Unhappy with her behavior, he slapped her breast, hard. He took her nipple between his fingers and twisted, making her cry out in pain. “If you don’t beg me, you brat, your pretty pussy is the next thing I will spank and I won’t stop until you come.”

“Gods, please,” she moaned, a tear falling from her eye. “Please, sir. Fuck me, I need you in me, sir.” She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded, she would die if she didn’t have this man in her.

“Celeana?” He asked as he made her panties slide down her legs.

“Sir?”

“You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” He bent her over the sink and unbuckled his belt. Aelin wanted to see his cock, he had felt so big against her ass.

His tip teased her entrance and then her clit. She didn’t care if someone heard her moan as he slowly entered her. He was big, bigger than any of the men she ever had. He buried himself to the hilt, groaning as her walls spasmed around him. It hurt to have him inside of her, but she welcomed and enjoyed the pain, and he knew it.

That’s why he didn’t wait for her to adjust and started thrusting into her, hard. Her eyes shut, focusing entirely on the feeling of him filling her.

She was shaking so much she didn’t know how her legs kept holding her. He pulled out and entered her again, hard, his balls slapping her clit. “Your cunt feels so fucking good,” He moaned, going faster, harder. His hand slammed on her ass, tearing another cry out of her. She was close.

He made her rise, hanging the angle of his cock, keeping her from falling with a hand around her throat. Delicately, he tightened his grip, and Aelin’s eyes rolled. His other hand found her clit.

“Sir,” she moaned, trying to hold her orgasm back.

“What is it, baby?” He was breathless. “Use your words, Celeana.”

“Please, can I come?” She prayed to every gods in the world he would let her come, but when she opened her eyes and found him smirking she knew her prayers were useless.

He only said “No,” and thrust faster in her, chasing his own orgasm.

Aelin wished she had a name to moan as she tried to focus on everything but the feeling of this man in her pussy and his finger on her clit. She cried,  both in pain and pleasure as he kept going, hitting that spot deep inside of her nobody ever hit before

“Let go,” he grunted. “Come for me, Celeana.” His grip around her neck tightened even more and she lost control. She screamed, loudly, as she fell over that cliff of pleasure. Barely noticing she squirted. He kept thrusting into her and came a second later, spilling himself inside of her. Both leaned on the sink, trying to take their breath.

He pulled out of her and made her sit on the sink. Her back rested against the mirror, too tired to do anything by herself. He got dressed and took some paper to clean her up, she whimpered, too sensitive to be touched. He softly apologized, kissing her shoulder as he helped her get her dress back in place.

“Think you would want to do this again?” He asked, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. There was only curiosity and desire in his eyes, not demands.

“Sorry,” She gave him a small smile. “I’m not from here and anyway, I don’t really do more than one nightstand.” Gods forbid anyone ever gets attached. He only nodded and gave her a small smile full of understanding.

“Will I ever get your name?” She teased him, earning a soft laugh from him.

“I think I‘d like to keep some mystery.”

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

“We’re late,” Fenrys stated as they both entered the elevator.

“We’re fashionably late,” Aelin corrected him and he snorted. Both of them were past the point of fashionably late. Elide would be mad at her, she knew it, but Lorcan would be too and she kind of liked the sound of that.

“She’s going to kill you,” Aedion warned as he met them in the hall. Aelin quickly took him and Lysandra in her arms and started walking to the reception room.

“She won’t be physically violent, she won’t take the risk to ruin her bridesmaid look.”

“It’s Elide we’re talking about, it’s not physical violence I would worry about if I was you.” Lysandra chuckled, of course, she would find it funny. Aelin rolled her eyes but laughed along with her friend. Soon they were in the room, they were careful not to make noises, not wanting to drag attention to them.

She looked at her watch and sighed, one hour late wasn’t that bad, was it? At least, Fenrys would suffer from Elide’s rage if it came to that. Aelin took a glass of champagne and walked to Elide and Lorcan. Lorcan was talking to someone but she couldn’t see who because this bastard was just too tall. “Ellie,” Aelin started, taking the small woman in her arms. Maybe affection will make her less angry?

“You bitch!” Elide whisper-shouted, pushing Aelin away from her. Well, her plan definitely didn’t work.

“Elide, you look ravishing,” Fenrys winked and Aelin had to use all her focus not to laugh at Elide’s angry face. She was almost shaking as if it was taking everything in her not to yell at Aelin and Fenrys. If she laughed right now she was kicked out of the wedding, she knew it. Elide seemed to relax a little as Lorcan’s arms wrapped around her shoulders.

“Galathynius, Moonbeam.” He nodded. “So your plane didn’t crash.” She said with a point of humor but Aelin didn’t care and flipped him off. Fenrys just softly laughed and put an arm around Aelin’s shoulder, a normal way for him to show his affection.

“You two didn’t meet Lorcan’s best man.” Elide said as the man who talked with Lorcan turned around. Aelin’s heart stopped. No, no, no, no. “Rowan, this is Aelin, my sister. Aelin, this is Rowan, Lorcan’s best friend.”

This had to be some kind of sick joke, there was no way the man who fucked her last night was Lorcan’s best man. The universe really hated her. His eyes widened when he saw her and even more when Elide said Aelin’s name. Her real name.

Fenrys burst out laughing loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

—————

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[yandere-sins]

hii! may i request soft yandere akaashi x fem! reader? she is smol, sweet, and innocent. akaashi loves her so much and act so soft towards her, but he secretly manipulate her and one day when they cuddle she asked him why he never let her hangout with her friends and why he never introduce her to his friends

sorry if it's too detail, you can add or change the scene if it's too hard. thankyou so much! have a nice day!^^

Thanks for your request, sorry it took a while! ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««     

It could have been perfect.

His arm around you, fingers drawing circles into your back. Akaashi smelled like the peachy soap you put into the bath, and his still-damp hair tickled your face when you nuzzled deeper into his shoulder. From the way that your legs were draped over his, his other hand tenderly squeezing out the tension from your shins, to the movie playing away on the big television in front of you, everything was so perfect.

You two had saved up for a bit over a year to afford a lovely city home. Akaashi had come with you to buy decorations, and you two would fetch late dinners on your way home with full IKEA bags. He always took the big and heavy ones from you, even if you complained. Last night, he asked you if you two should take the next step.

“Like a child?” you asked him, and he began to splutter, turning his face away. “Or a bird...” was his curt answer before he hid under the covers as you laughed loudly. But soon enough, even that joyful moment turned indifferent. When the lights were out and Akaashi asleep, the world seemed to slow down. Even if you were grateful for the pleasant life you had and the loving husband by your side, why was the feeling of everything being perfect so... so...

Boring?

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” you asked, filling your mouth with the popcorn that sat in a bowl on your lap.

“I’ll be working late,” he noted, giving your back soft, comforting pats. You didn’t really need him to comfort you. Working late wasn’t the end of the world for normal people. And normally, it wouldn’t be to you either.

“Ah, I see. No worries, I’ll be out with friends, so I will leave dinner in the fridge--”

Ah, you thought, feeling his hand grab your shin tightly. It’s about to be not so boring anymore.

“Which friends?” he asked, choking back the bothered undertone in his voice.

“You know, from college.” Your answer was dissatisfying, that much you could read from his face as you looked up at him, meeting his cold eyes. “Why them? You haven’t been in contact for a while. I thought you guys grew apart.”

“I thought so too, but they invited me out to drink.” Sighing, you pushed off his hand, still digging into your leg, pulling your limbs off his lap to sit properly beside him. The moment you set down the bowl of popcorn, you heard the television switch off, Akaashi taking a deep breath. Arguments weren’t so uncommon, even in a relationship as perfect as yours. Sometimes it were just the pickled vegetables he didn’t like, and sometimes it were the friends that Akaashi hated so much ever since you met him that would cause them. Either way, they were always awful for you.

“I haven’t seen them in a while! I’m excited!”

Honest emotions. That would do, right? If you were happy, so was he, right?

But he wasn’t.

Akaashi simply stared at you quietly, judging. He was scolding you with his silence, even though he wasn’t a big talker to begin with.

“You know I can’t stand them,” he snarled.

“But they are my friends, not yours.”

“It would be better if you didn’t see them.”

There was no reasoning with him when he was like that, you found. Akaashi would rather bite his tongue while arguing only his viewpoint than take up the truth he didn’t want to hear from you. There was no amount of ‘yes’ and ‘amen’ you could have plead to him that would have made him less aversed to saying ‘no’ to you in return.

“Why are you like this?” you whispered, genuinely feeling hurt. Everyone admired you for the strong bond you two shared. Your parents shed tears of joy at the wedding. Everything was so perfect, but why was it only perfect when you were unhappy?

“You never let me go out, and I haven’t even met any of your friends yet! What harm is there in spending time with my friends rather than twiddling my thumb while waiting for you to return here? What could possibly happen that would make it impossible for me to do something without you?!”

Silence. As always.

Sighing, Akaashi got up, and you felt a string of anger forming a knot in your stomach. No one liked arguments, not even you! But running from them wasn’t a solution. Running away from your partner’s feelings wasn’t something you could do when you chose to be together!

“You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered as he reached for the door handle to walk out, and you sprung up, almost beggings as you pleaded, “Then please tell me!”

You were sick and tired of being left alone and snubbed. If only there was a good reason for him to act the way he did, but by all that was holy to you, you couldn’t find it. Akaashi, however, did stop, taking another deep breath before pinching his nose. If he left now, you knew it would take days for you to reconcile, you two pouting and only pretending to be fine in front of your family to keep face. Eventually, you’d just forget and move on, but that too was something you were sick and tired of, always having to swallow what happened in favor of a happy home life.

“It’s just going out with friends for a drink...” you mumbled, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Say something! you wished quietly. Anything! Just don’t go.

“It’s just going out with friends now,” Akaashi sighed, turning around to face you. Again, you were met with this cold stare of his, making it impossible to read him. Was he angry? Probably, but you wouldn’t know just from his expression. “And then? What if they want to go to a club? Will you go with them?”

Furrowing your brows, you questioned what he was going at, but now that Akaashi suddenly began stalking back to you, you were overcome with a very different type of panic. He had never advanced towards you like this, with his footsteps echoing in the silent room loudly and his body appearing to be bigger than it was just from the tension in it.

“So what’s next? Are you going to let others leer at you? Have them grab your shoulder, grind up to you on the dancefloor? Are you going to let them ask you to go to a hotel with them?”

“What?! N-No!” you stammered, unable to believe what he was suggesting.

“How will you know? What about your friends? Did you check them? What are they doing? Who are they with? If one of them has a crush on you, are you going to allow them to confess it? Are you going to run our marriage into a ditch just because they invited you out for a drink?”

Akaashi really did manage to make you ask yourself twice if this was all your fault as you heard his arguments. He made you question if there was truth behind his words or if the feeling inside of you was just the paranoia that he created.

Your relationship was so perfect, except when it wasn’t.

“Of course not...” you whispered, standing still as he laid his hands on your shoulders. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes, but you knew he was staring holes into you. All you wanted was to go out, to live a little. To experience and make memories, even if they didn’t include him. You didn’t think about these things, and you believed in yourself to not be unfaithful. But had this always been such a big concern in your relationship?

“I worry because I swore that we’d be together until death do us part! I care so much about you--I love you!” His assertion was barely meaningful to you now. After so much time at Akaashi’s side, you were sure that deep down, you loved him. You just didn’t love this perfect world you had with him. The ideal that he created.

Not, if perfect meant this.

“I’ll come home early tomorrow, and we can go to the cinema,” he tried to console you, fingers snaking under your chin to lift it. You barely returned the kiss he planted on your lips, ever-so-slightly averting your head from the affection. Akaashi paused, asserting your every move before pressing you for your answer. “Cancel your plans with them, okay?”

“Okay...” you mumbled unenthusiastically.

His touch lingered for a moment more before he finally pulled away, breathing out slowly before making his way to the kitchen. “Do you want some water?” he yelled back over his shoulder, but your answer never came. No amount of water or love could make up for how suppressed you felt by him and the conversation you just had. He loved you. He worried. It was always his feelings that mattered.

But what about you? Were your feelings irrelevant again?

Did it not matter that you felt like a caged bird by his side? That all the perfection made it truly suffocating? That everything had to be his way but never yours? He decided when you two went out and where. Akaashi was the one to put everything into motion, and you were glad if you could manage to surprise him with his present on his birthday. It was his schedule you followed, but he never asked if you were happy with how things were going. As if he didn’t care that you were bored and longing for more in life than just being by his side.

Your life could have been perfect. You two could have made it work and lived happily. But Akaashi didn’t want to work it out. He didn’t want to compromise or give you your own will. Instead, he chose to possess and monopolize you over true love and happiness.

And you were left to wonder for how long ‘perfect’ had actually just been ‘hell’.