#she MUST have used excel in school if nothing else

[ohbutwheresyourheart]

Monday work gripe of the week: my reasonably intelligent coworker who is the same age as me could not successfully copy/paste data from one excel sheet to another

[cigarettesaftersae]

Homesick 03 - dozen

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Series: sae x f!reader | childhoodlovers!au

Stuck in a small town near the coast with a previous crush on a boy who returns after years

A few days pass since your interaction with Sae. Being the curious creature you are, you went out your way to find who exactly he was. Seeing as you couldn't obtain that knowledge at a younger age. The moment has to be now. Why else would you see him again? Was it at the hands of fate? Destiny? Or just pure coincidence? I mean any day you could’ve just went forward to him but this felt, almost extraordinary. Everything happens for a reason and anything is a reason for everything.

And here you are, working at Maria’s Cafe hoping to get information about Itoshi Sae. As well to help out Maria and earn a stable financial life. Baring the details, she seemed closed to Sae and the smell of sweet cookies and lattes lingered in the air, and this morning was filled with small chatter.

“I got this, no worries” you smiled softly at her, taking care of the upcoming customers “2 Cream caramel lattes and a Vanilla Latte” you spoke to Maria. “Um- I also want to talk about something, miss Maria, if its fine by you of course.” Gosh, this was going to be embarrassing, you would of just searched him up on the internet, but you were too lazy sleeping. “My my, what is it dear?”

“I wondered if you knew anything about Itoshi Sae, you know um, red hair, teal eyes, very long under eye lashes. I’m kinda jealous of them.”

She chuckles with her back facing you, making a small cup of coffee for the waiting customers.

“Is this for research or something else?”

“Something like that”

”He’s beautiful young man, yet I do pity him. His whole life has been revolved around soccer. I fear it gets the worse of him.”

Thats right, he was an amazing soccer player back then. Where exactly did he go?

“So…is he like special or something?”

“Looks like someone doesn’t pay attention to the news and gossips.”

“Hah, I don’t really like those much despite being a journalist.” Man, you’re so far behind, after finishing high school you haven’t had much to do expect walk around and talk pictures. You majored in journalism, English, and Spanish. You figured if you were to find a career that thrived in adventure, language would be useful. As well as learning French alone.

“Well, you mentioned his life revolving around soccer, correct?”

“Correct as a pretty pink flower dear,” Maria smiled with her wrinkly eyes smiling back as well like Sunshines

“Wow, he must be excellent” You say smiling back- “He very much is, most call him Japan’s Prodigy and passed a high excellent school.”

You didn’t know he was *that* good, how come you never noticed? You guessed it was the lack of seeking into the world of soccer. Not your strong suit, you excel better in liberal arts.

“Oh- would you like me to take care of that?”

“No worries sweetie, just take care of the front for now?” You nod and follow Maria’s instructions. The wind carried the sounds of the bell into your ears. Turning your back around to the customer, only find Mr. Octopus himself. “What— um what can I help you with...?” You longed on your words. Now that you really looked at him much closer, his bangs seemed… interesting? I guess the face card makes up for it.

“I want to talk to Maria” His lips moved gracefully and fast to his point

“Sure, one moment” You almost hoped for a second that he’d come and visit you, did he even remember? Oh well..

You announce Sae’s arrival and his request for a talk to Maria, you could see how the corners of her lips curved happily. Watching as Maria and Sae sat down at a table, you took the orders of the few customers. As a curious cat, you were eager to hear out their conversations while making cups of cream coffees.

*Cmon..what is he saying…*

.

.

*Blah blah blah… how was your day- dookie basic stuff..*

“I would like to work here if that's fine by you. I’m not severely busy at all and have nothing to do so I thought helping you out here would be a start.” *Was that Sae talking? What are you thinking, of course it is…wait- work here? would that mean both of you would work together?*

“Oh my, are you sure you’re not busy at all?”

“I assure you, all fine.”

“Well when would you like to start?-”

“May I start now?”

Maria smiles “Of course you can, dear y/n can help reach you with the ropes.”

“I appreciate you accepting this offer.” Sae says with a needless and cool tone, but you could hear the appreciation slipping out a bit at least

You quickly take your eyes off so they wouldn’t notice your eavesdropping upon them. With a small glance, Sae places on an apron around his slim toned body.

“Y/n, Sae will be a new employee starting today, would you care to teach him some stuff while I take care of the back?”

You nod replying with a yes, now leaving you with an awkward tension between the two of you. *Quiet, crickets, quiet—* “I already memorize the menu” Sae spoke up, it almost scared you; slightly making yourself jump. “Oh, great so let's teach you how make some drinks.”

Within the 30 minutes, you taught Sae each drop of ingredient for each certain drink. He seemed well ready for the job and continued to help him out.

“I’m going to be working in the back.” Sae claimed with nothing else to say after that

“You haven’t even learned the register yet?” You stated, why just work on drinks and not even take orders?

“I talked this with Maria already.”

No point in arguing you thought if maria agreed

“Alright, as long as she's fine with it. If you need anything just ask”

And with that the morning passes quickly into late afternoon, Sae continued to perform an excellent job on the orders you took. Right now, blew quiet winds outside, barely even busy, coffee mugs in the sink, some small spills here and there, Maria sat down. You noted, she seemed rather tired. She’s been in the back all day. You walk up to Maria with a gentle tone, “Is everything alright Maria?”

“Just a tired ol’ lady. My bones must be getting rusty” She chuckles

“hmm, why don’t you head home early? I’m sure me and Sae would handle just fine”

Worse idea ever, you and Sae alone? It would just be awkward…this was your idea.

“I couldn’t just leave you guys alone”

“I agree with her, you should head home early and rest well.” Sae commented, so easy to agree with this plan, yours. An absolutely horrible idea

Maria smiles so kindly as usual “If you kids insist, thank you, both of you. Such caring kids”

—

Now you really feel awkward—you can almost taste it. It’s like mucus in your throat but not ready to go away and better yet it’s not even stuck it’s just there, you really wish a customer came in to break the silence, but it wasn’t even busy. From the late afternoon with students hanging out with their friends, families in parks passing for a nice drink, and individuals heading out for work to just a lazy evening with dim light shined in the corners.

*— ding!*

The weight on your heart was lifted so brightly, just like you wished. The universe is on your side today, how lucky. You take the customers’ order and let Sae handle most of making the drinks. To help out, you decided to head in the back to Sae only to be met with a bump to your forehead and a hot sting from your chest to all around your torse by the hot coffee to-go cup in Sae’s hand now to the ground for waste. It stains the apron and the shirt under, how unpleasant and not to mention the burn. You yelp in pain but not too loudly remembering the public display you were in. “Ahh—! ouch…” You sigh in defeat

“You got in the way” Sae said with a natural tone

What a fucking dickhead, not even a sorry after all this mess?

“Take care of the front” you quickly say heading in the back

“I’m working in the back only—”

“It’s no time to argue Itoshi, I’m all messed up and my chest burns, please?”

The look on his teal eyes remained the same cold, careless, and nonchalant as usual. You can never understand what Maria sees..

—

*Stupid idiot, what did you even see in him? Just a selfish cold bastard.*

You had to change out of the shirt and into a new apron. At the very least your pants remained fine. As you stepped closer to the front, you heard some loud people who you made out to be male voices..talking to… Sae? You walked into the view of the front to find a brunette man with a weird beard, mixed ethnicity with a mullet layering a bright green color and two different eye colors. Noting off to the side was another man who had red-pinkish hair, a long hair strand to the side of his face almost like a long side bang. A monk with specials tattoos, another with crazy blasting hair, and another with a weird looking guy reminding you of Mirio from My Hero Academia because of the eyes. You guessed these were his friends? Perhaps teammates?

“So this is the place you talked about, gotta say didn’t expect this outta of ya’ Prodigy” The two-eye colored man said, he seemed extroverted, bright, and stupidly handsome.

“Oh- I thought it was just Sae here today,” He averted his gaze to you, the look on his eyes changed from excited to— you would say flirtatious?

“What is your name?” He asked you; his lashes were ridiculously beautiful and long

“Y/n” you answer with a small smile

“Well y/n, I’m Oliver Aiku” There was a certain smirk smacked onto his face as he looked at you, you didn’t know how to feel either flattered or weird out

“Are you ordering anything?” With Sae’s bland words, the atmosphere shifts out

“Oo could I get a Vanilla Latte?” The red-pinkish hair chimed

“Same here” Oliver says

-

You and Sae make the drinks together as they wait,

“I’m sorry for spilling the drink on you, are you alright?”

He’s apologizing now? “You’re all good. Are those your friends?”

“Sure, whatever”

“So..they are?” Sae walks off not even bothering to give a full answer. What a boomer.

You bring the drinks to the guys

“You’re all set, anything else?”

“mm..a number?”

“A number” you question at Oliver, your number?

“Your number”

“uhhh..sorry but no.” hell no you dont even know him, but he was cute

“Ah, can’t say I didn’t try.” He sighs in defeat

After they left, late evening arrived and both of you had to close up. Counting tickets, money, and leaving every table, chair, floor tidy. As you were about to finish up, you were interrupted by Sae, “Do you need anything?”

“Your number”

What the flip is up with everything and numbers

“for work”

now you feel utterly stupid, death save me

“Right uh, here” You place the digits into his phone and his into yours.

“I have to get out early for the bus, could you close up?”

“Sure”

You exit the cafe and ran to the bus stop. Your legs felt wobbly as you stop only to realize there was no bus coming. Maybe you just needed to wait, were you late? This is bad, worse fear as a woman is to walk home alone in the dark. This felt dreadful to just slowly take your feet step by step forward the home you live which felt far every step even closer due to the worry of the dark. You sensed lights from a car arriving, it was slowing down to you. Please be an extra weirdo that kidnaps me. Bending you knees slightly in case, ready to run when the window slides down only to discover Sae.

Now you rather get captured then go another few awkward seconds with him. “What are you doing?” He says bluntly,

“Waiting for the bus.”

“They’re all closed, you’re too late…did you need a ride home?”

“Yes!— please?"

“Hurry up, I don’t have all time”

You hop into the passenger seat, giving him your address. You noticed how clean and tidy the car was. It was chic, black, and mysterious just like himself— and expensive, was he also rich?

“You did great today, especially for your first day” You tried to slide in small conversation to avoid meeting the same awkward tension as always

“Not that hard”

…its awkward again

“So, your friends, seemed uh—cool and interesting”

Nothing?

“I’m not signing an autograph” Sae exclaims as he drove

Erm, what? Does he really think I’m some weird fangirl— how insulting

“I didn’t even ask—that subject wasn’t even brought up”

He remained no reply, rude

“I didn’t even know you were some popular guy till today…” you mumble

Sae glances at you, in his thoughts he felt sort of relieved but still on guard.

“You followed me to the ocean, so I assumed”

“I didn't follow you. I was walking around taking photos. We just found each other there, same place and same time.”

“Maria said you were going to be a journalist, you people are nosy.”

“Sounds like you're nosy asking around about me”

“You talked to Maria about me”

“What— she told you?”

“No, I heard it”

“I was…just asking around. It’s not like I had your number till tonight.”

“Exactly, nosy.” Sae parked his car in front of your apartment waiting for you to leave

“Thanks, I really appreciate it—and I didn’t mean to be nosy.” And with that you hopped out of the side, leaving it cold and empty once again. Sae made sure you entered the building safely before heading off. Deep in his careless cold heart, it was you.

.

.

.

Nya

[tinyozlion]

“True Friends” - Understanding Mr. Treize and the Contradictions of OZ

“Treize himself has a tremendous disdain for any tactic that allows for excess casualties. Ignoble behavior on the battlefield sullies any victory, and civilian death makes a mockery of what a True Soldier fights and dies for. For Treize, there is nothing more hateful than removing the human component from battle, or the cowardly avoidance of responsibility for human death.”

Gosh! What a great quote! I wonder who said that? Oh right, that was me! I did. I wrote that in the entry about “True Soldiers: Aesthetics, Honor, and Chivalry”.   

Let’s examine that a little more, shall we? 

“His Excellency doesn’t want battles that involve civilians.”

Everyone who knows Treize best, his “True Friends”, who grew up with him, who were trained by him, who understand him, all seem to agree: His Excellency wouldn’t stand for needless casualties. OZ may be ruthlessly pragmatic and underhanded, but that couldn’t be Treize’s fault– no, it’s always Lady Une! It’s his fanatically devoted colonel who always chooses the path of greatest violence, heedless of any collateral damage– she’s the one to blame! Treize would never give an order that risked civilian lives.

…Right?

…Right?

Surely he would stop her, admonish her, make her face serious consequences for the atrocities she was willing to commit. He’d leave no room for doubt that she had failed him and disappointed him.

...Right?

Yeah, that’s right, a firm slap on the wrist oughta do it. Tell her to try a little harder next time to understand the value of human life. Just do better! It’s alright to use mobile suits to attack a school, but we’re going to put a stop to it because I’ve changed my mind about killing a teenage girl, as a personal favor to a friend. 

–Friends of His Excellency would certainly like to believe that he would never knowingly sacrifice civilians, but he sure doesn’t seem to mind benefiting from someone else doing it for him.

How well do Treize’s friends really understand him, when they seem unaware of how wide a margin of error he finds acceptable in pursuing his ideals? 

Well, ideals are fine and all, but war is war, and some amount of pragmatism is necessary to stay on top. Treize isn’t the one calling all the shots (yet), and the organization he reports to expects results. You have to break a few eggs to make an omelet, right? That’s why it pays to have a Chief Omelet Maker working for you, so she can break all the eggs, and murder school children, and threaten nuclear assault, and you can come away still smelling like roses. 

…But what sort of effect does that have on her? 

It’s better for a ruler to be feared than loved; being hated is the perfect motivation to stay strong; fighting will never disappear from the world, so the strong should rule it for the sake of damage control; God was too lenient when he gave mankind the free will to rebel; people find comfort in being controlled by the powerful. 

--These are some of Treize’s stated ideals. 

So Lady Une devotes herself to fulfilling those ideals unflinchingly, no matter how much blood ends up on her hands. Better her hands than His. OZ has to be the strongest. OZ has to win. OZ must be victorious at any cost. Damn the Colonies, damn the politician’s daughter who made herself a liability, damn the wounded soldiers left behind at New Edwards Base– she’s going to make OZ so absolutely unfuckwithable that their enemies shit themselves at the mention of its name, and she’ll do it herself if no one else will. Because THAT is what His Excellency wants. She understands him. 

...So why does he keep telling her– ever so gently, ever so gracefully, that she’s wrong? If making sure the strongest rule and the weak obey isn’t what pleases him, then what will? 

Killing is simple– anyone is capable of killing anyone, so you mustn't abuse that capability. The Earth is fragile and infinitely beautiful. Human life is fragile and infinitely beautiful. One must always take responsibility for the fates of those who fight for you, and honor the sacrifice of those who die. Tragedy in war is inevitable. 

--These are some of Treize’s stated ideals. 

So Lady Une devotes herself to fulfilling those ideals with grace and empathy, to bring an end to needless bloodshed. The world needs a strong, compassionate leader, who is capable of loving humanity and guiding them to a peaceful future, where loss and war are tragedies of the past. Order and peace can be maintained without sacrifice, by using technical advancements to replace soldiers on the battlefield and keep them out of harm’s way. That is what His Excellency wants. She understands him.

...So why does he tell her– so sadly, plaintively, that she is wrong? That he is not who she thinks he is, that the future she has so carefully laid out for him is a fantasy of her own making? Why does he plead with her to come back to him, as the person he once knew so fondly?

Civility and honorable conduct on the battlefield is worth more than victory. To fight for something one believes in with perfect clarity is the purest endeavor of mankind. The tragedy of loss is what gives a battle meaning. Honoring the sacrifice of those who have died for your cause means being willing to die for it yourself. To fight, to lose, to die for a noble cause is to move the hearts of all humanity, to touch immortality. 

--These are some of Treize’s stated ideals. 

And so she does– she sacrifices herself to save the Gundam pilots and turn the tides in outer space, rejecting Romefeller, rejecting the Mobile Dolls. At last, she understands him. 

…But didn’t she always?

Except perhaps in the case of using Mobile Dolls to replace soldiers (an idea that was easily manipulated by its inventors to fit into her worldview at the time), her understanding of Treize’s ideals wasn’t ever wrong, just fragmented. She focused on a single facet at a time, each time excluding the contradictions of the other sides– light bouncing off a solid plane without revealing the rest of the prism’s convoluted geometry. 

She isn’t mistakenly interpreting him– HE is a mess, and she is representing him accurately, one dimension at a time. 

What is more significant is that he finally understands this about her.

Treize is mortified to realize what sort of effect he has been having on someone he cares about, during a period where he is questioning the validity of his own beliefs and significance. He may mistakenly believe that he is responsible for having fragmented Lady Une’s personality– which is not how the condition she has operates– but he is not mistaken in taking responsibility for her distress, and the danger he has put her in.

Losing her, or believing that he has lost her, is devastating. Rather than moving him to action, it moves him to inaction; aware that he has come to represent ideals that are too easily manipulated by people who he fundamentally disagrees with, that the idea of him is too powerful to be used responsibly by the current rulers, he withdraws. 

Treize cannot switch off the magnetic field of his charisma or its continuous pull on the soldiers who take inspiration from him, but he refuses to willingly lend himself to a cause that he finds irresponsible. In fact, he refuses to join any cause until one presents itself that he can have complete faith in– and complete control over. 

The people whom Treize considers his True Friends are the ones who “understand” him– this includes his enemies, the ones who oppose him but nevertheless espouse values that he can respect. In fact, ANY strongly held ideal, even ones in opposition to him, and ANY display of courage, is more admirable in Treize’s estimation than lip service to his own ideals or those of his organization. The “fighting spirit” that is of paramount value in his worldview is not limited to combatants– he expresses immense respect for Relena Peacecraft, more so even than his respect for the Gundam pilots, who he comes to idolize. What matters is the strength of conviction. What matters is courage.

He respects and admires Lady Une, even when her errors in judgment have megaton consequences, because she is so singularly and ferociously dedicated to her goals. He tolerates the violence and inhumane actions of the Specials and OZ soldiers because they are fanatically ambitious and ready to die for their ideals. As long as the ultraviolence isn’t cowardly or self-serving, then Treize can and will overlook the body count– noble sacrifices, all. He’ll memorize their names later on today.

Treize’s ideals are flawed and contradictory. There is a tipping point in the series where he gains enough self-awareness to recognize this fact. This does not stop him from believing in his ideals– he can’t simply turn away completely from what he values and loves about humanity and its “fighting spirit”– but it does allow him to appreciate those who see his hypocrisy for what it is, and who despise him for it. 

“You’re only capable of looking down on others; you’re only fighting to satisfy your ego. How many people have died because of you?”

The fact that Treize has memorized the names of all 99 thousand people who have died for him does not do anything to improve Wufei’s opinion. For Treize, that number is a sacred personal burden; to Wufei, it is evidence of offensive, monstrous egotism. 

Wufei, of all the Gundam pilots, is best acquainted with how wide the margin of error is in Treize’s ideal of chivalry. Nataku herself, the namesake for Wufei’s gundam, fell neatly into that margin and died in it. Long before they met and dueled, Wufei knew of Treize as the OZ official jointly responsible for an attack on his Colony. While General Septem of the Alliance (then in control) would have murdered everyone on the Colony indiscriminately with biological weapons, Treize’s solution was more sporting: OZ sent in Mobile Suit troops to directly eliminate the rebel element, who were armed with nothing but a single decrepit prototype Leo and an unfinished Gundam with no ammo-- a much more chivalrous way of sterilizing a Colony, allowing the largely unarmed group of dissidents to die fighting rather than be killed with the push of a button.

Would the deaths of the Long Clan have been meaningful sacrifices in Treize’s eyes? Was exterminating civilians for the sake of convenience a noble cause to fight for?

One could argue that the existence of the then-in-development Gundam was enough of a threat to justify an attack, but at the time the idea of gundanium mobile suits was no more than a rumor. Could Treize, back on Earth, have reasonably predicted its invention? 

Not if we are to believe his own words, which clearly indicate that the Gundam’s existence was unknown to him until reported after the attack.  

For those who fall outside of his cult of personality it is easier to see past the charisma to the reality: no matter what his soldiers think of him, Treize is not a god. He is only a man, and no one person has the right to decree some deaths necessary to the future. 

–And Treize, for his part, would agree. He is a single individual, whose ideals people put too much faith in without fully realizing the essence of what they mean. But the belief people place in him gives Treize a level of power that must be acknowledged and used responsibly, and to the best of his ability, he tries to use it for the good of Earth and humankind. 

As a symbol, he is far more influential than he could ever be as a man, and his awareness of that fact leads him to choose the path of martyrdom, knowing that his very existence is a threat to peace. The only way he can neutralize his own power as a military icon is to join the sacrifices to the cause. And what more iconic way to do that than with a duel?

Treize may have resigned himself to being an anachronism and a dreamer, but if he is going to die for the sake of the future, he will at least go out according to his ideals: gracefully, nobly, at the hands of an enemy he respects. 

For personal and aesthetic reasons, Milliardo is Treize’s hopeful first choice as a dueling partner, but Milliardo had his own role to play in their final performance, which prevented him from participating in a duel for their mutual actualization. So Wufei is the right choice; Wufei both understands him and has a justified reason to want him dead. Besides, it’s an elegant, symmetrical solution– the continuation of a duel that he predicted they would be destined to finish in mobile suits.

--And what effect does that have on Wufei? Perhaps expectedly, a fracturing one. 

It shouldn’t be surprising that Treize’s ideals resonate so powerfully with someone who was raised in a warrior culture, especially someone who only knows how to express his beliefs and sense his self worth through combat.

Wufei, too, lives with contradictions that he cannot fully unify. 

Treize Khushrenada cannot live in the world he wishes to see realized. 

 If he were to win the war against White Fang, the cycle of oppression and resentment would continue. Even if he were to immediately relinquish his power to Relena and demilitarize the Earth Sphere, the end result would lead to more conflict; his refusal to take control of the Colonies would be seen as capitulation, and a betrayal of those who fought for him against the threat of annihilation from space. Even the considerable power of his charisma would evaporate overnight if he were to appear to be turning his back on the soldiers whose fanatic loyalty had allowed the unified mobilization of Earth’s military forces under his banner. But, as a general leading from the front lines in a noble defense of Earth, dying gloriously in battle for the sake of peace lends all that charisma to the future he fought for. 

--The message left to the surviving soldiers is not: “His Excellency led us into battle and then abandoned us when he won”, but instead: “this is the peace His Excellency died protecting.” 

Indeed, after his death, Treize’s name IS used in an attempt to lend legitimacy to the argument that soldiers have been devalued in a time of peace, and that continuous war to determine the strongest victor to lead humanity is his true legacy. But it doesn’t stick– the would-be dictator who tries to use Treize’s name in service of his military takeover is killed by a nameless soldier, whose change of heart is motivated by the memory of what Treize actually died for. 

--It is not a victor who moved the hearts of the people, but a glorious loser.

[aclaywrites]

Excellent, actually. After my divorce and move back home, I had completely given up. I’d never had much luck dating throughout my whole life. This isn’t whining, I was always fine with having friends and being social, sometimes I wanted sex but I was never the kind to sit around pining. After moving back to OK, having a young child and living with my parents for that first year, I figured this was it and that was fine. I’d get a home for me and my baby and just settle in.

My ex wife is British and lives in the UK (as do many Brits) so our kid goes to stay with her for the summer. It gives me a nice break and recharge to make me a better mom throughout the school year. After I got our home, and Kid went off for her holiday, I decided I needed a bit more of a recharge and began to look for what I started calling my Summer Shag. Not a girlfriend. That’s too much. I don’t need anyone on my island trying to make me feel shit, I just want a few dates and some physical attention. Middle aged women have Needs and that’s no lie. So for a few years I’d use dating apps starting about this time of year (late April) and see who I could find. Someone who’s down for good times and knows that this is absolutely just some summer lovin’, have us a blast.

Mostly it worked. I did have the 😱😱😱 racist date I told about in an earlier post, and sometimes it took a little longer to make a connection, but the dating apps were great. See pics, do preliminary chatting. One of my flings I met on Lex, the app with no photos, just talking and sharing. Very nice. Even when it wasn’t a match, just scrolling around looking at who’s out there and what their lives are like was interesting. Who else is a lesbian in central Oklahoma?

So that worked well for a few years, even during lockdown. Amazing what some private chats can accomplish in a world gone mad. Then one May I started the quest, swiping around and seeing who was available. I see some pix of a super cute dyke who headlines her ad ‘I can cook and fix shit’. Heck yeah! Swipe on her! We start chatting that evening and by the time we were able to actually meet 10 or so days later, I realized I actually liked her, and now here we are years later moving in and making wedding plans. The funniest thing is that we have mutual acquaintances and a decades long history of living in the same small town. We talk often about how many times she must have waited on me as she worked in literally my favorite restaurant in town, or how often I pushed my baby carriage past her house, or crossed paths on our bicycles but never met because it wasn’t our time yet.

So yeah, online dating is really good, in my experience and opinion. Especially if you don’t live in an urban area with lots of lgbt groups etc to join, and you’re too old to go out to clubs because you get up early for work and are sleepy 😂

If nothing else, it’s a system that gave me the sweetest surprise of my life and that can’t be bad

[kaibutsushidousha]

What changes did they make to Shiki and Ciel's dynamic in remake? (And what do you think of them?)

In the doujin release, Shiki and Ciel start as acquaintances from the same school. No previous opinions. Later, the 17 Pieces incident happens and Ciel's route is unlocked by Shiki immediately accepting the weight of his sin instead of dismissing the outlandish event. Ciel finds him and saves him from his personal darkest hour with some generic Church platitudes about how death isn't atonement and Shiki must make amends with good deeds instead of running away from the burden of his sin.

The payoff to this is Ciel revealing her past as Roa and her ultimate goal of killing Roa as a means to end her undeservedly long life. Shiki (made into the current Roa host) fights back against Ciel and their conflict is solved by him repeating her generic Church platitudes to her, coming from the mouth of the only person whom she can relate to on the trauma of Roa's presence inside them and with the sincerity of someone who internalized her lies, causing Ciel to finally believe her own lessons too.

The main difference in the remake is that instead of Shiki starting off without established options for Ciel's kind schoolgirl volunteer mask, he's much more of a simp, for the lack of a better way to phrase it. The idea of Shiki saving Ciel by engaging earnestly and passionately with the words she didn't sincerely mean changes from the exclusive focus of the important part to something present in every aspect of their relationship, which makes Shiki's status as the only one who personally knows what Ciel's been through less relevant to it.

Ciel always was Shiki's best relationship by a really wide margin and I don't think the Remake's material damaged what made their dynamic work but it did dilute it with a lot of additional threads I feel nothing about. Shiki's new characterization takes some getting used to since he's not this immediately forward and devoted to anyone else. I still love them as a pair, but I can no longer imagine them ending up as the best couple among the six again.

And this general idea of making the girl stop hating herself by showering her mask with love and then showering her true face with the exact same love because the reveal doesn't make Shiki see her as a different person is something that would have worked better with Kohaku.

If anything, I feel like their new dynamic is much more of a benefit to Noel's characterization than to either of the two because Shiki's intense, outspoken, and apparently uncritical affection for Ciel paints him excellently as everything Noel would want for herself. But Rainbow At Night's writing in general is very dedicated to making Noel its best character.

Overall, I feel like I'd been more satisfied if her remade route kept all of their interactions as they were, only removing the attempted NTR subplot by replacing all of Arcueid's screen time with our good Noel content. Have Arc straight up leave believing her job to be done on day 6 after she kills SHIKI, unaware that Roa leaped to the other Toono Shiki. Still leaves with a final boss furiously jealous of Ciel if anyone cared about that, but better because Noel's jealousy has a more meaningful past and extends so much beyond Shiki.

[jeongyunhoed]

As seen on my FF.net Also seen on my Ao3

Following the events of fifth year, a new adventure awaits for Norah Lee. Boys, exams, school events, common room parties, and old foes outside of Hogwarts. Even battling pensieve guardians was easier than this.

Main Pair: OC / Ominis Gaunt Genre: Adventure/Angst/Fluff (it's a little of everything, tbh)

KEEP IN MIND: Characters are aged up (even if the story's got them in sixth year) to make it more appropriate. Time period is leaning towards the modern day so in case you might find anachronisms in the dialogue or references, this is why. This may also be quite a lengthy fic too.

BE WARNED: Social anxiety, mentions of blood and injury, grief, drinking, kissing but nothing more than that, death (this is Hogwarts Legacy, after all)

P.P.S: Rude classmates, amortentia, Leander having another K-Drama moment with Norah, Ominis having another dream ahead.

Masterlist

Chapter 18

Dear Norah,

Thank you for your owl! It's the first time again since you got your sixth year letter that we received word from Starlight. Congratulations on getting the Order of Merlin! I still can't believe it, you've become the youngest recipient of such a prestigious award. Your father and I have been celebrating since we received the issue of the Daily Prophet. Who would have guessed?

Then again, it might not be as surprising after all. Ever since Professor Fig came to our home that day, he knew there was something special about you. We're so happy that it really was like that. Finally, a witch in our family!

We don't suppose you can bring some butterbeers our way? How much is the exchange rate these days to galleons, sickles, and knuts? Please let us know so we can have a keg brought over. If not, we could find the time to travel to Hogsmeade while you're there to have some. I doubt the Leaky Cauldron or the nearest pub serves those.

Still, we couldn't be prouder of you for doing all that you've done, all the while excelling in your OWLs. Write back soon so we can make the time to come and visit. We can't wait to meet your friends as well.

Mum

P.S.: Thank your friend Adele for the Montrose Magpies poster! Her sister Alexandra seems a fine player.

P.P.S.: Your father plans on making a deposit to your Gringotts vault soon. He made me swear not to tell you, but he's just so proud of you.

Norah stared at the letter that morning over breakfast. It seemed like a welcome surprise after the week she had. Unsurprisingly, she woke up with a splitting headache, immediately reaching for the hangover tonic Nerida was kind enough to point out. Sebastian and Ominis had yet to come up, and perhaps it was a good thing, given what Nerida and Grace told her about her sleeping habits the night before.

The two girls were eating their breakfast next to her, with Grace sitting across from them as they tucked into their plates of toast, eggs, and sausages. "Do you have a dress for the Yule Ball yet, Norah?" The blonde suddenly asked her.

She looked up from reading the letter from her mother for the 10th time. "Hmm? I-I don't have anything to wear yet. I probably should find something to wear by then, shouldn't I?" She said.

"You must! the Yule Ball's less than a month away," Nerida said. "You, most especially, have to make quite an entrance, especially if you want Ominis to notice you."

"He's blind, I doubt he'll be able to see my dress, let alone appreciate it," Norah pointed out with a laugh.

Grace, however, looked unamused. "You're the hero of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin awardee, if Ominis won't be able to see you, everyone else will," She countered. "Tell you what, my family's trusted seamstress makes the most beautiful gowns. They've made my mother's wedding dress, and a few other dresses we've had to wear over the years in balls and such. Why don't we pay her a visit?"

Norah raised a brow. "Grace, I appreciate the offer but I'll be fine. I'm sure I can be able to find something to wear by then."

She didn't know where to turn to other than Gladrags and Madam Malkin's. But if all else failed, she could try and make an outfit from the clothes she owned, a good portion of her wardrobe being clothes she found while treasure hunting. She was nothing if not resourceful, perhaps something the Sorting Hat sensed about her when she got sorted during fifth year.

"Does Ominis know, by the way?" Nerida suddenly asked.

"Know what?"

"That you fancy him?"

Norah shook her head. "No, and I don't think I plan on telling him. He told me there's someone else that he likes. I might have been tipsy but I remember what happened yesterday," She explained, a slight frown forming on her face.

Nerida and Grace's expressions fell. "Oh, then, maybe you'll catch someone else's eye at the ball. Maybe that Hufflepuff boy, Caleb?" Grace glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where the boy himself was focused on reading an issue of the Quibbler that he received in the mail. "I heard you two had quite a moment on your way out of the Great Hall the other day."

Merlin, even that seemed to go around, Norah thought. "We collided into each other, our stuff flew all over the place, honest mistake," She shrugged. "I appreciate the two of you trying to help me through this...dress crisis."

"It is the first time we've heard you talking in your sleep, though," Nerida said quietly. "You must really like Ominis if that's the case."

Norah looked over at the Gryffindor table, seeing Garreth sleepily try and get himself something to eat before their first class. Much like what happened in the days leading up to the Gryffindor party, people were more focused on the festivities the Hufflepuff common room party had planned. Remembering the letter from her mother, she got up and bid them goodbye before bringing her bag along to the Owlery again.

Figuring that there was no time like the present, Norah trekked up the hill that the Owlery was built upon. She caught a glimpse of the lake from where she stood, of the giant squid's tentacles making a momentary appearance and splashing those nearby with water. Norah chuckled to herself as she kept going, determined to send a reply to her mother as soon as possible.

While she wasn't very fond of high places despite trekking through much higher ones, there was an unusual sense of calm, of stillness in the Owlery. The nearby bench served as a place of rest for people who were probably worn out from all the walking, or for those who want to savor the view without getting a whiff of owl droppings. Norah climbed up the spiral staircase and went to the nearest window to take out a quill, an ink bottle, and a piece of parchment to write her reply.

Dear Mum,

I'm not sure what the exchange rate is between muggle money and wizard currency, but I'm sure a goblin banker will be able to tell him when he gets to Gringotts. Tell him thanks for me, I'll use the money to buy a dress for the upcoming Yule Ball. If only cameras were smaller here, I could send you a photo of me in it for you to see how I look. I don't suppose you know a muggle boutique that has nice dresses?

As I write this letter, there's going to be a party hosted by Hufflepuff house tomorrow night. Maybe you can time your visit by then so it's not quite freezing yet. Let me know when you're coming round so I can tell my friends. NEWT subjects are becoming increasingly difficult so we're always up to our necks in homework. I think you'll like them all, my friends, I mean.

Norah

Once she scribbled her signature away, she folded the parchment like so, while taking out an envelope and a stamp to seal it closed. Her owl Starlight flew inside just in time for Norah to tie the letter to her leg. "There you go, don't forget to ask for a treat before you come back, hmm? That ought to remind them to have some on hand," She muttered, eyeing the snowy owl, who nipped at her finger affectionately before flying off again.

As she put her things back into her bag, she stopped when she saw Leander come up the stairs. He too, stopped upon seeing her. "Oh, good morning Norah," He greeted, approaching the assortment of owls that were perched. "Congratulations by the way, on that award," He said, although there was a hint of sadness in his voice, which Norah somehow picked up on.

"You alright?" She asked, not bothering to dwell on that achievement any further. "I was just writing to my parents. They want to come to Hogsmeade if I couldn't send a keg of butterbeer."

Leander nodded. "Yeah, my parents have just been pestering me if I knew you and all, and when I told them I did-I do, rather, they asked me to congratulate you on their behalf," He explained.

"Oh," She nodded. "You seem quite sad, though. It's way too early to be sad."

Leander studied her expression. Norah had always seemed so calm and collected, despite everything she had been through. He acknowledged the fact that when she beat him in Summoner's Court, she was quick to encourage him to keep practicing, not even thinking about bragging that she won, or at the very least, bested him there as well in Crossed Wands. Not once did Norah brag, and instead only encouraged him to keep trying.

"I-I'd rather not say," Leander shook his head. "At least up here, I mean."

"That's alright. You don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable," Norah assured him. "Tell your parents I said hello, and thank you."

She was about to leave when an owl swooped inside to fly into one of the perches. Norah felt herself fall over backwards until Leander quickly caught her, his arm around her waist to give her some support. The closeness of the position made both their cheeks turn pink, both of them still looking shocked.

"Careful there..." Leander muttered, his expression still that of surprise as he helped Norah stand back straight. "Owls, you know."

Norah chuckled. "It's the second time something like this has happened," She teased. "Thanks, Leander."

"Anytime," He mumbled, still trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

She turned on her heels and climbed down the stairs, not noticing how Leander's cheeks turned ruddier along with his ears. Those owls did have a habit of coming in out of nowhere. She had her own share of Starlight taking her by surprise, and often not in the way she'd liked as at times, her owl would come in with dead rats. Her parents, although scared at first, eventually got used to it and even reprimanded Starlight for doing so. It took them a while to realize that it was her way of showing affection.

Norah laughed upon recalling what just happened on her way down, realizing how silly they must have looked and how surprised she must have gotten. Both of them looked like deer in the headlights. With the letter to her mother sorted out, she stopped when she saw some second years fly kites, the wind keeping the colorful versions of the houses' representative animals in the air. Perhaps they had all gotten up earlier to do it, given the weather.

As she approached them, she noticed that Caleb was amongst them, watching how high the kites were in amazement. It was always a comforting sight, seeing people fly kites in the grounds, in the pitch, in the open spaces close to the hamlets. Caleb waved upon seeing her, and Norah waved back before heading back inside the castle, her thoughts suddenly filled with what Nerida and Grace said earlier.

The worst thing was, Norah knew exactly what she dreamt about. They were in the Undercroft, as they usually were, and Norah somehow couldn't take the fact that Ominis had feelings for someone else. She dreamt that Ominis was asking her about Anne, asking what girls usually like, what they didn't like, how they wanted to be wooed. By then, she burst and told him that she had feelings for him and no one else.

When she woke up that morning, a heavy feeling came over her, her heart, especially. After all, it made sense that Ominis would like Anne. They had known each other much longer, and during her adventures with Sebastian, the two boys would often say that Anne would agree to whatever Ominis suggested, or at the very least, soften up about her own twin a little if Ominis was the one to deliver some sort of news.

What wasn't to like about Anne? Wasn't Ominis planning on taking her to the Yule Ball anyway? She should've known. Anne was also nothing but nice to her, and was someone amongst them that she sometimes confided to.

The heavy feeling remained as she trudged towards Professor Sharp's classroom, taking her place this time next to Amit, who also seemed quite gloomy. That didn't go unnoticed by Sebastian and Ominis, however, as well as Garreth, who glanced at her as she put down her bag.

"Oh, good morning Norah," Amit gave her a nod.

"Good morning, Amit, do you mind if I sit here today?" She asked.

He shook his head. "No, I don't mind at all. But now I wonder what happened that would make you want to sit here," He teased, forcing a smile.

Norah side-eyed him. "You know, there's something I've always wanted to know but I wasn't sure if I could prod you again," She muttered, making Amit sit up. "What's going on with Nellie and you and Samantha? What's happening there?"

The mention of the two girls made Amit blush, a sigh escaping him as class had begun, with the three aforementioned boys still glancing at her from time to time. To their surprise, the lesson was all about brewing a vial of amortentia.

"It is against school rules to slip amortentia into anyone's drinks," Professor Sharp warned. "However, as the brewing of such a potion will be done under my supervision, I shall see to it that any leftover samples will be immediately destroyed. Love is a powerful emotion, much like certain types of magic. In the wrong hands, love can be taken to a dark place from which many have never returned."

Norah saw Sebastian lower his head at the last sentence. "We'll talk about this later," Amit whispered, eyes focused on what Sharp was writing on the board. "Your Room of Requirement? The walls have ears after all."

"Of course," Norah nodded, scribbling down the ingredients into her ledger. Knowing that they were to brew this kind of love potion filled her with a kind of dread. She really didn't want to think about it for now, but it seemed like the universe was telling her that maybe she ought to. Why was she being this way? Why couldn't she just confront Ominis and tell him how she felt?

Yet, she knew the answers to those questions. To confess romantic feelings toward a friend could only go two ways: They would gain a lover, or lose them. There was no turning back once she did, and who knows how Ominis would react? Would she be let down like an injured animal? Or would he pretend nothing happened? It was hard to tell with the young Gaunt.

Ominis, on the other hand, had been thinking about the latest dream he had about her. This time, they were in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. Once again, he dreamt that he was telling her how he felt. This time around, however, he was bold enough to make the move of kissing her, of holding her. In those dreams, Norah would tell him she felt the same way.

"Night and day I have dreamt of you," He said to her. "I have loved you since the moment you found the Undercroft. I have loved you since we ventured into the Scriptorium. I have loved you since we went into the catacomb to find Sebastian. I have loved you since before all of this. I summoned your name because it's only your name I want close to mine. Norah, you have my heart, and I could only hope for yours in return."

He sensed that she was moved. "Ominis," Her voice was shaky. "I feel the same way."

The thought of his most recent dream, Ominis knew, was what was going to influence what he smelled in amortentia.

"Well, to give you all an idea of what amortentia is supposed to look like after brewing," Sharp pointed to the cauldron next to him. There was a spiraling steam over a pearly liquid. "Anyone care to step up and smell the potion? As you probably all know, the scent of the potion differs per person. Whatever attracts you is what it can smell like."

That remark caused even more whispers among the students. "I'll have a go!" They saw Adele come forward, and Professor Sharp stepped aside. The Gryffindor girl leaned forward to get a whiff of the steam. "Broom polish, the wind after the rain, bubble bath," She paused, her cheeks suddenly turning pink. "Butterbeer."

"Ooohhh," Some of the class teased as she stepped back.

"Well, anyone else?" Sharp looked over at the class. "Thank you, Ms. Kang, points to Gryffindor," He scanned the room. "Mr. Gaunt, would you like to try?"

All eyes were on Ominis, including Norah. Nerida and Grace were glancing at her when the blonde was called to the front. "I-I'd rather not say what I'd smell in the pot, Professor," He said quietly, much to the dismay of some. Norah felt some relief, that she didn't need to hear what Ominis smelled in that potion.

"What about you, Ms. Lee?"

The mention of her name made everyone look at her. Norah froze and swallowed, eyes darting to her two female housemates, who were giving nods of encouragement. Adele had also sought to give her a thumbs up as she slowly walked up to the table with the cauldron. It was Sebastian and Ominis' turn to feel somewhat anxious.

Norah got a whiff of the steam. "I smell," She closed her eyes, picturing everything she was getting from the scent. "Dark chocolate."

"Troll bogeys?" One Ravenclaw spoke, making them laugh, breaking her concentration.

"Blood?" A Gryffindor joined in, making them laugh again.

"Setlle down, the rest of you," Sharp shot them a stern look. "Please, continue, Ms. Lee."

Norah closed her eyes again, feeling the steam hit her nostrils. She kept getting a whiff of Ominis' cologne. It was leathery and smoky, and smelled perfect on him. "Warm clean laundry, cigars," She said quietly. She didn't dare reveal she kept smelling Ominis' cologne as she looked down on her way back to her station.

[katcadecascade]

If you believe the lies I tell (Snowjanus fic: Chapter Two)

Tumbler Chapter Index

Ao3

Chapter Two: Muffins

“Coryo?”

He nearly drops it all, the bread nearly rolls out of his hands but he catches it. Instinctively, the cloth is held tightly to his chest. 

Slightly embarrassed, Coriolanus tries to act like nothing happened. He didn’t see his cousin in the kitchen, busy preparing dinner. Approaching, he sees that she managed to buy more cabbages and lima beans. It’s all minced and ready to go into the steaming pot of boiling soup. 

The dull taste is already on his tongue. 

“Hi, Tigris, I have some bread for us.” 

Tigris shares a victorious smile with him, like he hauled in a whole loaf. 

“That’s great, Coryo,” her smile widens a bit, instantly worrying him, “but isn’t there something else you want to tell me?”

“No?”

A mocking scoff is all he gets. Tigris stares at him like he’s an idiot and points at the handkerchief. 

“Where’d you get that?”

“The school.”

“And you’re home late.”

“Not really, I just took my time walking.”

They held each other’s gaze, waiting for the other to make the first move. 

When Tigris tries to snatch the cloth, Coriolanus takes a large step back. She managed to grab the bread at least. 

“Really Tigris? I was going to give you the bread. No need to bring out the claws.”

She reaches over to lightly smack his arm and he knows that this little game is over. Tigris begins her interrogation. 

“Who’s this alpha?”

He rolls his eyes, “There is no alpha.”

“That is not what this smells like.” 

She doesn’t try to steal away the cloth again but he can’t help but hold it tighter. 

Desperate to avoid everything, he says, “It smells like the soup is overboiling.” 

“Soup doesn’t overboil,” Tigris denies. He merely raises an eyebrow, making her hesitate. She groans and returns to the stove. “It wasn’t overboiling.” 

“That’s because you’re an excellent cook.”

“Go clean yourself up and then prepare the table, Coryo,” she orders as she adds the chopped ingredients to the soup. 

He knows that Tigris won’t let this go but he does as she says. After all, if this is how she reacts to just a scent marked token then he refuses to let Grandma’am aware of it. Coriolanus tucks the cloth between the thin bedsheet and pillow where his own scent can drown out its existence. 

Maybe it’s not the ideal hiding spot but he just wants it as far away from his family as much as possible. 

Yes, that’s it, he decides as he puts away his bag and gingerly changes out of his uniform. 

The button up shirt, red blazer and skirt and pants all need to be as pristine as it can. All to maintain his image at school, something can break if Sejanus does anything risky. 

Just the thought of him demands Coriolanus to reach back over for the cloth. 

He sits undressed, stripped of his glamor, and glares at the little thing.

Nutmeg. 

An earthly, humbled scent that’s perfect in a bakery. He hasn’t been in an actual bakery in what feels like forever. 

The handkerchief straightens out by his rubbing thumbs, feeling how soft it is. It must have been kept safely on Sejanus’ person. It had to be, it has his scent. Sejanus marked it and gave it to Coriolanus. 

It’s not unheard of for an alpha or beta to give tokens first, it’s just a desperate act according to old blood. 

Still, Sejanus is District, embraces and longs for his birthplace to an annoying rate. At some point in their history, Sejanus did make the implication that he’ll return there after graduation. He vaguely remembers Vipsania cheering for that. 

So if that is true then there’s no point to think too hard on this handkerchief. This is all pity and Coriolanus will make sure that this will never happen again. 

Maybe he should get rid of it now? Burn it to a fireplace they can barely tend to. Seems like a waste though. Tigris would appreciate the fabric more. Yes, once the scent wears out Coriolanus can give it to her. 

“Coryo! Soup’s almost ready.”

The yell snaps him out of his thoughts, realizing that he has been fiddling with the cloth all the while. He shoves it back under his pillow and quickly dresses in something old but comfortable. 

Dinner is a short affair, as per usual. The soup is thankfully not as bland, thanks for Tigris’ expertise. No doubt it’d be dreadful if he cooked. He could just never be patient with cooking. He even says so to get Tigris to laugh. 

Grandma’am repeats her usual topic of her garden, her flowers budding just right. A sign of their prosperity. 

The cousins share a look. Not out of doubt for they could not afford to be so hopeless. They can’t help but be mildly annoyed when she gets like this. Grandma’am’s constant talk about the good o’days and how it’s only a matter of time for their lives to turn around. 

Like things can instantly become better in a snap. 

Tigris still works back over bone at her work. 

Coriolanus enters whatever monetized prize from school exams that he can and will win. 

There is no miracle dropping onto their laps. They have to play things out day by day. 

If only there was some sort of global event for the Capitol elite to become obsessed over. To spend their attention and money on and for Coriolanus to somehow receive acclaim and wealth for spearheading its success. 

But nothing like that is happening. 

The world keeps turning and the Snows are still sinking in from their glorious station. 

Once Grandma’am has been escorted back to her room, Tigris reopens her interrogation case. 

“Coryo, are you keeping secrets from me? Your favorite cousin?”

“You’re my only cousin, Tigris.”

He can hear her gears turning in the silence. It gives him enough of a break to help her clean up the kitchen. 

“…is it Festus?”

He almost drops the silverware he’s drying off. 

“Oh god no! He’s crazy over Persephone.” 

Without missing a beat she says, “Lysistrata was always sweet to you.” 

He cannot believe how casual Tigris is on this. It’s clear on her face that she’s going over a list in her head. 

She rattles out a few more names, some of which are betas or omegas, unknownst to her. He decides to stop her. 

“Tigris, I promise you there is no one, honest. The bread is just a foolish endeavor.”

It's uncomfortable under her analyzing eye. She’s the only one in the world he doesn’t lie to. Or at least he tries to lie the least. This is his family, they’ve seen each other starving and crying. He’d never want her to be worried or scared for him because he hates the idea of being her burden. 

Coriolanus sighs, “It’s Sejanus Plinth but it all means nothing.” She’s about to argue so he admits, “I want it to mean nothing.”

“But why Coryo?”

“I don’t want to date or court anyone, let alone scent marking. No chance in hell that I’m making Sejanus an exception.” 

He’s not avoiding scent marking or pack bonding solely of the risk of exposing their impoverished lifestyle. Coriolanus outright dislikes the idea of publicly displaying who he’s allies with, who he is potentially vulnerable for. 

Any person he decides to give any sort of affection to will become a walking weakness. 

For Tigris and Grandma’am, it’s normal to scent them or lose most of his guard. They are his family. They are who he will always care for, who he knows will always care for him. 

Giving that kind of trust to anyone is only asking them to stab him in the back, to learn parts of himself and ruin him from the inside out.

It’s a paranoid, deeply untrusting philosophy but it is what Coriolanus Snow believes. 

This is what he learned from his mother. 

None of her so-called friends reached out to her when the war was at their doorsteps. Community and kinship was nonexistent, so focused on their own survival. She was so scared at how small the world became, tried to believe that maybe they would get help. 

She lost that hope long before she died. 

The Snows had to take care of their own. 

Tigris had to take care of Coryo, shielding him from his mother’s death. Their home smelled like blood for many days after. It was Tigris who stepped up to take care of the family from that day on. 

“Scent marking isn’t always a bad thing,” Tigris continues to protect him. In her eyes, she still has to. “It could be good for you if you try.”

“Like how it’s good for you? Sorry, Tigris, but I’m not like you. Always scent marking tokens and freely handing them out.” 

He’s just being defensive, trying to prove that his preference is vastly different from hers. 

Coriolanus doesn’t understand why Tigris freezes up. 

There’s a dip in her scent, something dreadful that spoils the food in his stomach. 

“Tigris?”

He’s at her side immediately but she won’t meet his eyes. 

“I do give a lot, some of them were my favorite scarves.” She blinks and blinks, her eyes now glossy with water. “I don’t get them back. I got new ones though. All reminders.” 

There are nights where Tigris smells like others. Coriolanus never actually confronted her about it. He just assumed that she was doing the norm. People scent marks their friends, who they trust and devote themselves to for all that wholesome pack bonding and whatnot. 

The way Tigris is unnaturally still, rambling but choosing her words carefully, Coriolanus gets scared. 

“Scent marking is important, Coryo.” 

Tigris has said this before, lecturing him when he first presented. Scent marking is about broadcasting loyalty to others. Such a thing didn’t matter to him, he was only loyal to his small family. 

“People do need it. They love receiving tokens. To not feel alone but also to feel fawned over. Especially if there’s no strings attached. That it remains only as a good memory.” 

She finally looks at him, her eyes pleading him to understand but he doesn’t.

His brain is jumping to conclusions so he forces himself to be dumb. Not to make her spell it out no, absolutely not. 

Coriolanus refuses to piece together the vague words his cousin forced out of herself. She’s hurting herself to imply selling something important to her. 

“Ti?”

It’s the nickname he used when he was a toddler. He couldn’t pronounce her name fully. 

This sends an emotional wave throughout her. As if she’s not seeing Coriolanus at all, just baby Coryo. 

Tears begin to fall. 

“An alpha protects her pack, no matter what.”

Coriolanus hugs his cousin. 

He shuts down the analyzing functions of his brain to react instinctively. He doesn’t want to be aware of the sacrifices Tigris has made. This is truly selfish, childish even to cling to the image that Tigris is. 

The alpha of the Snows, creative and empathic. 

She still is that, no matter what she has done but Coriolanus still chooses to the path of ignorance. 

It’s worth it to believe his existence didn’t ruin Tigris’ life. 

Scents are important, Coriolanus can admit that. 

He’s always been comforted by his cousin’s scent of dewy grass. His mother’s roses can still be lived through the powder in her compact mirror. Even Grandma’am’s is of honeysuckle. 

With those, Coriolanus believed there was no need to expand their little garden of scents. 

He always ignored scents as best as he could in a world that uses it. After the war, scent blockers were necessary by law of the Capitol. For privacy’s sake, formalities and self-respect. Anything to distance themselves from the archaic natures of the Districts. 

The Academy provided the medical pills. Many pharmaceutical practices created implants to regulate scents and dynamic cycles. The citizens of the Capitol maintained this manner of self control. 

Coriolanus Snow strived to be of that influence. 

There was no way he’ll ever afford implants and after graduation he will be out of the school’s insurance of pills. Yet he will always have his control over his own entity. 

He won’t let anyone unnerve him into something untamable. 

Sejanus Plinth will not make Coriolanus Snow into some pathetic, needy, emotional creature. 

This gets tested the next day, on his walk to school. 

Still without a chauffeur or a car, Coriolanus walks to school. It’s not a trek but it’s bad on rainy days. It takes forever to dry out his uniform, not to mention the bone deep chills. 

If he gets spotted the excuse is that he likes walking. Also so he won’t get stuck in the morning traffic, that’s the excuse that many students buy. 

So he’s usually left alone but Coriolanus knows that his guard needs to be up.

Every so often he gives a cautionary look around, checking if anyone in their cars do recognize him. 

Not many cars take this street to the Academy. 

His alarms are instantly raised when one car rounds his way. It barely slows to a stop before the door opens and Sejanus pops out. 

What a lovely sight to begin his day. 

“What are you doing, Sejanus?”

He could barely contain his seething anger at Sejanus’ presence. Especially the little paper bag he carries. From the determined, wide brown eyes, Coriolanus knows what’s going on in that dumb brain. 

“I got you breakfast,” Sejanus says plainly, too innocently but entirely District. 

Coriolanus is seconds away from knocking away the food, to let it spoil and rot.

His hunger won’t let him. 

He refuses to break eye contact, knowing how desperate his mind wanders to the food. 

“You’re too kind,” he grits out, “but you really shouldn’t have.”

“I want to.”

An alpha who gives tokens. 

Tigris gave parts of herself to others. Coriolanus has no idea if she’s willing to do so. 

Obviously Sejanus has different intentions, none as elicit as his fears whispers. Yet it’s enough to send a chill down Coriolanus’ spine. 

He can see it now. The beginnings of a one sided relationship, a growing debt that he cannot ever escape out of. Would he be willing to be a glutton for all these foods? Served for being nothing but a charity case.

No, absolutely not. 

“I do not want your handouts. If you haven’t noticed I’m not as spoiled as our classmates.”

He meant spoiled as the usual insult to his classmates’ ego.

Sejanus perceives it a different way. 

“Coriolanus, everyone needs food.” Those big brown eyes are full of something dangerous. “Is your family struggling to get it?”

He could simultaneously combust and Sejanus would still offer up his pity. 

This takes the cake of his absolute fears coming to life. 

“You’re speaking nonsense, Plinth.” Coriolauns has a tight hand around his bagstrap, trying to hold onto his sanity. He forces himself to breathe evenly, subtly trying to keep his scent from raging out in utter fury and shame. 

He should have taken a handful of scent blockers instead of his usual two. 

Thankfully Sejanus stops provoking him with useless pity. It’s still in his eyes, Sejanus could never perform a lie. 

“Maybe I am,” he says, “and maybe I’m completely wrong about you.” 

Sejanus turns away, but not to his car. There’s a bench a few paces ahead where he leaves the paper bag. 

Coriolanus waits for Sejanus to return to his car, watches it take off down the road and turns a corner. 

The bag sits for him and it could stay there for the rest of the day if Coriolanus has enough willpower. If he didn’t take a peek and smelled sugar and blueberries. 

He devours one of the muffins before arriving at the school gates. 

-

Thanks for reading!

[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 5: The Net

Chapter 28

Marius puts me in a knee-length, sea-green dress with glittering wave patterns sewn on in opalescent sequins. And he gets the six-inch heels back out.

“Nothing but the best for my Tiger Shark,” he says, tying the same complicated pattern as last time.

Like last time, my makeup is simple but my hair complex. Finnick, who is weirdly wearing a very comfy-looking old-school-fisherman-style cable-knit, ties my seashell necklace around my neck.

“What’s yours?” I frown at him in the mirror.

He winks. “It’s a surprise.”

Then Dalia hurries in carrying a briefcase. “I got them!” she pants, grinning at Marius.

“Good. Everyone else?”

Dalia nods eagerly.

A smile splits Marius’s face. “Excellent. Let them see what happens when they try to take our victors.” He takes the briefcase from Dalia, sets it on the table, and pops it open.

“That’s a bold move,” Finnick says. But he leans forward and lets Marius settle the ten-year-old crown on his head. The black metal sits in stark contrast to his lighter hair. He stands a little straighter, and it’s one of those rare moments where he isn’t playing for anyone. Right now, Finnick Odair is just himself, smiling confidently at his reflection.

Marius turns to me next. I don’t know how they did it. They must have snagged them before we left for the reaping, because my crown sits on a desk in the upstairs study. But here it is.

Marius settles it amongst the braids, rearranging a little here and there, before giving me a nod and a real smile.

Behind him, Casca says, “There’s our Tiger Shark.”

Marius moves me to the mirror next to Finnick and even before I can fully see our reflections, I feel my smile growing.

In this moment, I’m not playing for anyone either.

The shining silver flashes in the light as I turn to look at Finnick. “Thank you.” I smile. A real, genuine smile, not to win him over or tease him or get something out of him, but just a smile.

He smiles back and pulls me into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Dalia is sniffling behind us.

After a minute, we pull apart and look back at her.

“Dalia-” Finnick starts gently.

She lets out a heartbroken sob. “I always thought you would be such a beautiful couple if- if-”

Preps 1 through 3 are crying now too, and two-thirds of Finnick’s prep team.

It almost makes me want to tell her.

“If you both weren’t so stubborn!” Dalia sobs again, then hauls in an enormous, shaky breath. “I’m sorry!” She turns to Marius. “But it’s true and you know it!”

Marius takes a deep breath. Then, in the most human thing I’ve ever seen him do, he hugs her. It seems like a long hug too, but then he lets go very suddenly, and Dalia’s eyes widen.

“Oh.” She looks back at Finnick and me. “Oh.” She nods once, sharply, eyes still full of tears. “Well, I just want you to both know-” The little chime sounds, signaling it’s time for the tributes to line up. Dalia takes another huge breath, steeling herself. She looks at Marius, who shakes his head just the tiniest bit, then she says, “You have always made me smile.” She leaves hurriedly, both of our prep teams trailing behind her in various states of distress.

Marius nods, almost to himself.

Casca clears his throat and says, “You’d better get going. My tributes have never been late for Caesar Flickerman, and I’m not about to start now.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

In the line, word passes up and down of what everyone except Haymitch and Katniss did in their one-on-one with the Gamemakers. We were all true to our word and hilariously harmless. Unbeknownst to each other, Seeder and Cashmere both whistled, but Seeder is terrible and Cashmere can whistle to rival an orchestra.

This year, I try to really listen to the others’ interviews. I remember regretting not knowing Zalea could juggle eight oranges until after she was dead. Now I’m here with friends, and I promise myself I will not go into the arena having missed something like that about one of them.

What I didn’t notice, when we were all lined up backstage in the dimly-lit hallway, is that Finnick and I weren’t the only ones to show up wearing our crowns.

Cashmere is charming and beautiful in a bright copper crown as she sheds a few tears with Caesar, talking about how the people of the Capitol have come to be part of her family, and she will always love them.

Gloss is steadfast and gorgeous with a shining golden crown. He shares his sister’s sentiments, and says he wishes, he will always wish, he could have had more time with his Capitol family, and how it is simply too bad that we, the victors and the citizens of the Capitol, are all going through this horrible tragedy.

Enobaria has a rose gold crown, and she is vicious.

So is Brutus, in a crown so red bronze it looks like blood.

Then comes the first half of Nuts and Volts. Wiress, in a crown I would swear is made of opal, speaks in trailing half-sentences of the injustices of man-made laws.

Beetee follows her, his crown dark like Finnick’s, talking about how the Games could be changed. They’re only man-made, after all.

And then Caesar’s joyous voice calls, “And now, our favorite Tiger Shark, Annie Cresta!”

I pull in a deep breath, rolling my shoulders back to stand as tall as possible, then walk out onto the stage. Already I can tell the crowd is torn between adoring cheers and heartbroken wails. I smile at them, letting it be just tinged with sadness at how much I will miss them.

Caesar gestures me to my chair and perches on the front three inches of his. I follow his lead.

“Tell me, Annie, how is it to be back in the Capitol?”

“Well, Caesar, the cream cheese rolls were waiting in my room and let me tell you,” I pause and smile conspiratorially at him, “I ate them all. Wait, no. I ate all of them that Finnick didn’t. We may have resorted to violence over the cream cheese rolls.”

Caesar and the audience laugh, then Caesar sobers the tiniest bit, though he is still smiling. “But isn’t there a rule that you can’t fight other tributes before you get into the arena? I don’t want you to get in trouble, you know, you are my favorite Tiger Shark.”

Now I laugh. “Caesar, Finnick was my mentor and now he lives across the street from me. We have game night on Thursdays. I think he knows me well enough without us fighting before we get to the arena. Joke’s on him, I know all his secrets too.” I let that hang, hoping Caesar will play along.

As always, he delivers.

“Oh?” He leans forward, eyes alight. “I don’t suppose you’d care to expose one or two of them?”

“Well…” I look around at the crowd and their imploring faces. I grin. “All right!” I lean toward Caesar and stage whisper, “He cheats at marbles and cards.”

Caesar gasps and the crowd howls.

“And he says he can hold his breath for seven minutes, but his record is only six minutes and forty-three seconds.” I take a page from Gloss’s book and pick at one of my fingernails nonchalantly.

“Typical man!” Caesar snorts. “Always exaggerating our abilities, aren’t we!”

“At least you’re self-aware, Caesar!” I laugh.

“Oh, you know me! I’m nothing if not honest with all of you!” He sweeps an arm toward the crowd, who cheer appreciatively.

Caesar sobers substantially as he waits for the crowd to rein themselves in. I’m a little concerned by this, but I don’t let it show.

“Now, Annie,” Caesar says, “District Four has the curious distinction of being one of two districts where a mentor and mentee pair are this year’s tributes. What is it like, knowing that this time tomorrow you’ll be competing against Finnick?”

I laugh. I lean back in my chair and I really laugh. It’s all I can do, in the face of this ridiculous thing. The laugh doesn’t go all the way to my eyes, and I’m glad, because when I turn to Caesar, I see that I have unnerved him, just a bit, just enough to be perceptible.

“But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” I direct my mirthless shark eyes out toward the audience. “You want us to go in and kill each other. That’s what these Hunger Games are and you all know it. You want me to kill Finnick? Gloss? Cashmere? Johanna? Will you still love me when I kill them?”

When.

The audience is recoiling, leaning back in their chairs like me. But theirs is horror, and mine is calm determination.

“Because I will. I will win.” I turn back to Caesar to see exactly what I hoped to see on his face—this interview has not gone the way he thought it would. I was supposed to be fun. Not tonight. Tonight I am vicious. “I will take them all away from you if this goes on.”

If.

Unprompted, I stand. Then I turn back to Caesar. “Remember, I’m a tiger shark, and you don’t mess with those.” I look directly into the camera, letting my gaze burn into it, then stride to my seat.

For all my confident fury, I can feel myself slipping. I muscle through Finnick’s interview as he recites a poem for his love. About a hundred people in the audience swoon, but it’s for me. It’s for me and I can’t react. The only thing keeping me upright in my chair is the restless tapping of his fingers on his knee. Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me… To anyone but a few of us in Four, it looks like a nervous tic. To me, it is everything.

Johanna is furious in her golden crown and Alvan in his silver crown is disappointed and Katniss is in her wedding dress and then she’s on fire and then she’s a mockingjay, and Haymitch… Haymitch doesn’t use even the front three inches of his chair. He stands and goes on a tirade, biting and sarcastic and whip-smart and he must have practiced it and timed it over and over and over because he finishes by waving an arm at Katniss and practically screaming, “And now you send a pregnant newlywed into the arena?” He throws his arms up in frustration and the gong sounds and he walks to his seat next to Katniss, leaving Caesar in shocked silence, having not said a word for the whole interview, as the audience explodes.

On one of the big screens, I see Katniss grab Haymitch’s hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. With the other, she reaches for Chaff. This is all I need. I lace my fingers between Finnick’s, his hand already stretching toward me. On the other side, I take Beetee’s hand, and before the screens cut to black, I see us, all twenty-four of us, the Capitol’s crowns on our heads, hands linked in a final show of solidarity.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

After they run off us the stage, Finnick beelines for Katniss and Haymitch, dragging me along behind him. Several yards away, Johanna is trying to do the same thing, but we are blocked by technicians and cameramen and the elevator doors close on Haymitch, Katniss, Peeta, and the woman who must be their Casca. Finnick’s head spins around to Johanna. He looks almost lost.

But Johanna shakes her head and shrugs, and Finnick and I end up in an elevator with Nuts and Volts.

Beetee is cleaning his glasses on the hem of his shirt. “It was worth a try,” he says to no one in particular.

“Yeah,” Finnick says.

The doors open on Level Three, and Nuts and Volts exit. The doors close again.

“Do you think Caesar’s tears were real?”

Finnick shakes his head. “He’ll miss us, but he knows good TV. And this is it.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Curled up on the couch watching the interview replay, I glance at Finnick. “You’ll still talk to me when we’re in there, right?”

He snorts. “Of course. We’re allies.”

“I meant-”

“I know what you meant.” He picks at the knot holding my shoe on my foot. “And I will. If I can’t, I’ll get one of our other allies to do it. I’m sure Johanna is full of stories.”

In spite of myself, I laugh. “She’s full of something.”

She’s raving at Caesar in her interview.

“So Johanna, Haymitch, Nuts and Volts… Who else?”

Finnick lets out a long breath. “Katniss. Ten. We’ll see how things play out.” Then he shoots me a grin. “You and me though. Always you and me.”

The broadcast stops when Haymitch reaches his chair, before Katniss can take anyone’s hand. But it’s still a statement. All of us angry, sad, disappointed. All of us in our crowns that were supposed to say we had won and that we were done playing the Hunger Games.

All of us going back to the arena tomorrow.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Mags wakes me up. For a second, I am very confused because this is not my room. It is, however, the couch in the living area, and Finnick is still asleep on the other couch.

Satisfied that I am awake, Mags moves to Finnick as I walk to the table and sit down across from Beck. Finnick yelps, then apologizes. After another minute, he joins us at the table. Marius and Dalia are there too, and we all eat in silence. When we have eaten, we hug all around, then Dalia and Finnick head up to the roof. Marius and I follow them five minutes later.

This time, I know what to expect when the woman in white approaches and asks for my arm. I try not to tense, but it still hurts when she jabs the needle in the muscle below my elbow.

“Tracker 4B is functioning.”

We land deep underground. I follow Marius into the dressing room, where there is a thin gray jumpsuit with some sort of wide belt and a pair of shoes that are thin everywhere except for the hard rubber soles. I have shoes like that at home. They’re designed for gripping wet surfaces.

“No armor,” Marius says. “No thermal. Should be some protection from the sun though. It’s going to be hot in there, if I had to guess.” He puts my hair in two long braids over my shoulders, then ties my seashell necklace on. He nods. “Keep an eye on Finnick. We all know he needs it.” Then he hugs me again. “Good luck in there, Tiger Shark.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“Sixty seconds,” says the voice.

I step onto the platform and the glass tube slides over me.

“Did you tell Dalia?” I feel like I’m shouting, but I need to know.

Marius gives me one last nod, and the platform rises, pushing me up into the unknown.

****

****

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Tag List:

@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider @anakins-ride-or-die

[link-eats-rocks]

Linktober Day 10: Zelda

Zelda in Brat-Mode, more specifically

Modern Day Chauffeur AU

Notes at the bottom, please read!

Lonely Girl - Chapter One

Ocean blue eyes met hers in the rear view mirror.

Zelda squinted. "Just so there's no pretense here, I know exactly why you're really here. You are a spy for my father. I hope you understand that makes you my enemy. There will be no pleasantries between us from now on. Mark my words."

Looking back and forth between the road and the rear view mirror, Link had no reaction. "Enemy, huh? Is it as bad as that?"

"Oh, it is and worse." She crossed her arms and huffed, slumping back in her seat. "I suppose he's told you of his rebellious, ungrateful brat who sneaks off like a typical teenager? You have no idea what's actually going on, so tell him my every move, collect your paychecks, but don't you dare think your job is noble."

Link had the nerve to grin. "Uh, I don't think you know why people have jobs. I'm not trying to be a hero here."

"I know you're doing it for the money, of course. I'm just saying there's no reason to feel good about it. My father is out of his mind, spying on his own daughter. There's nothing to spy anyway. You won't have anything to report."

"If that's true, why are you so upset about having a driver?"

"Because you're meant to be a spy!" She cleared her throat, embarrassed to shout at this stranger. "His suspicions are hurtful and unfounded."

"So you weren't secretly taking evening classes at the community college?" He sounded so nonchalant.

Zelda's mouth fell agape and childlike shame rushed through her veins. "H-How dare you?"

He shrugged. "Sorry, you're right. I run my mouth, Miss. I'll try to nip that."

"You do that," she said in amazement.

He really was brainwashed by her father. To speak to her so bluntly, with no respect, his only job was as her prison-warden, and he obviously meant to play that role to perfection.

Day two was uglier.

Zelda rushed past Link before he had the chance to open her door. She got in and slammed it shut.

She watched through the tinted window, hungry for a reaction.

He didn't even pause, didn't jump-scare at the loud slam of the door; he turned and walked to the driver's side as if he had shut the door himself. He got in the car, looking utterly pleasant.

Oh, Zelda was seething. "So, you're back for another day as a watchdog, I see."

"You don't need to be surprised to see me from now on, just so you know. I'm very dependable, Miss."

She could've spit. "With your obviously low standards and willingness to do dirty work, couldn't you have any old job? Why choose to be a professional stalker? Unless you're sick."

He feigned ignorance at her meaning. "I'm not sick. And this is an excellent job, much better than anything else I might find. It's not easy finding work." There he went again, looking at her through the rearview. It gave her the creeps. He should be keeping his eyes on the road anyway. He was going at the very top of the speed limit. If Father knew of this recklessness would he even care?

"Is it so difficult to find work?"

He smiled. "It was."

"Why? Are you a felon?"

Finally, she got a reaction, even if it was far from the one she wanted.

"Hah!" His eyes lit up in amusement. "No, Miss. Your father didn't hire a felon to drive you to school. Your relationship must be worse than I thought."

"If not a felon, what? Some small-time criminal record? Did your weed get confiscated?"

"Good Lord," he grinned, shaking his head in amusement. "I'll tell you just to stop your guessing. I didn't get to finish High School. It's almost impossible to get a job without a diploma."

"Ah. That does make it hard to get rid of you. You'll prefer this to being a pizza boy or a sign spinner, I suppose."

"Yes. Sorry, Miss."

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her phone, scrolling through pictures of people she barely knew who'd only asked for her socials to say they had a senator's daughter for a "friend". "May I remind you that your job is pointless? He may be frustrated with me but it is an obvious waste to make sure I go to school. I have a perfect attendance trophy sitting on my desk."

"That is weird. I wonder why he'd go so out of the way in this specific aspect if you never miss school."

"Don't you dare speculate with me as if you're on my side. This has nothing to do with you and if you knew what sort of man he was, you would not wonder about his erratic behavior. He hates me and wants to punish me. You are the punishment. Is your curiosity satisfied?"

"I apologize."

"You can let me out here." They were a block away from her school and she didn't feel she could stand to be in this tiny box with him another second. His presence was stifling.

"I can't do that."

Zelda nearly broke a sweat at the extra thirty seconds it took for him to halt at the entrance. Again, she refused to give him a chance to play "Gentleman Chauffer" as if this was some luxury. She opened the door, got out, slammed it, and marched away without looking back.

Notes:

This is actually a scene from the novel, Lonely Girl, I'm writing!

I'm about 65k words in and I'd say about 3/4s of the way done. It's the biggest project I've ever tackled and the furthest I've written. I'm so excited to one day share the finished project, but for now, a little preview 😁

[lightphieric]

Virtue's Last Record: Dashing and Bashing

Phi doesn't hate being the enigma of the group. Title from the Ori and the Will of the Wisps OST. CWs: None AO3

The first time Phi and Sigma escaped from the AB Room – come to think of it, was there ever really a “first time?” Timeline after timeline came back to her by the end of it all, and she couldn’t recall a single universe where she hadn’t already had that inkling of knowledge. Like it or not, her consciousness didn’t exist in a straight line anymore.

Not that it really mattered. Because it hadn’t been just the first time, had it? Every time she and Sigma escaped out that hatch, when she tasked herself with lifting him up and descending from the AB Room roof, she was terrified. She was so sure she could do it, too, which terrified her even more. Because yeah, she’d been an athlete in high school. A competitive ballerina, and a damn good one. But she hadn’t been training nearly as much as she should have since she left for college and also this was the weight of a grown man and a twenty-foot drop she was looking at. She was bound to hurt herself, at least strain a muscle something awful. But some instinct she had never felt before took hold of her every time. And as much as she wanted to hesitate, she pulled Sigma up and leapt to the floor without even a blink.

And she floated. Her core was held taut by nerves, but a few moments gliding through the air and she released all her tension, awed and delighted in herself. Her hair rippled in the air and her coat fluttered out beside her. She felt like a bird. A fairy. She was living every little girl’s dream, wasn’t she? The first time (come on, there had to be a first time) she must have landed with a huge grin on her face.

Sigma, as she could remember him, only witnessed her react to her newfound superpowers with nonchalance. (And he did witness her – thank God she was wearing a skort). Maybe at some point she got used to it. They did both watch K leap effortlessly from his hatch with that bulky armor and a girl in his arms not long after, so it wasn’t like these abilities were uncommon in this place. But there was something about K that made everyone’s recollection of that moment weirdly fuzzy. Once he assured them all he wasn’t a robot, the question kind of dropped and Phi was the only one left with bizarre dexterity and weightlessness.

Sigma looked at her like she was… mysterious. She liked that, being mysterious. The others gave her a wide berth, even while they stared at her with whispers and awe. No one tried to get close to her. They didn’t expect her to explain herself or spill her whole backstory.

Not that anyone else was revealing much about themselves either, of course. They all quite clearly had things to hide. But when Dio lied or Clover and Alice conspired or Tenmyouji laughed at an innocent comment like he knew something the others didn’t, it only served to make them seem actively untrustworthy, which was a clear handicap given the rules of the Nonary Game.

Appearing to be an enigma on the surface meant nobody could tell how close to her chest Phi was holding her cards. They probably couldn’t tell whether she had any cards to hold in the first place. And the beauty of it all was that she really didn’t. She had nothing to hide. Underneath her aloof exterior, Phi was a fairly average college student, with mundane hobbies and friends, who excelled in some areas (math, language, philosophy) and was weak in others (emotional intelligence, mostly). Her adoptive mothers were researchers wrapped up in some top-secret business, and she’d probably picked up her inscrutability from them. But they kept tight-lipped around her – if they knew anything about whatever conspiracy had birthed the Nonary Game, they’d never told Phi.

Actually, how much did her parents know? Did they know their daughter could jump through time or that she had superhuman agility? Phi tried not to puzzle too much over this, keeping her thoughts of Mom and Ima limited to a sentimental I have to get out of here for them.

Any way Phi looked at it, the Nonary Game was teaching her things that could change her entire perspective on herself and her life. How could she be open with the other participants if she was a mystery to herself? And what choice did she have but to enjoy these revelations? She leapt at Dio with a running start, her toes pointed precisely towards the back of his head, and she knew she liked being this new her.

[cecilia01]

Ordinary

Chapter four Raspberry and Scones

As I was pacing through the deserted corridors and up the marble staircases on my way to the Ravenclaw common room, I couldn’t get my mind off her eyes. Why did I find them so icy? Why can’t I erase the picture from my mind? Why did no one else notice it? Surely, there must be something wrong with me…

I absent-mindendly reached the end of the circular room, to find Samanta circling up and down in front of the windows, bending left and right, getting into all sorts of strange positions. ‘What on earth are you doing, Sam? Stretching?’ I asked her with a grin. ‘No,’ she looked up from her plant, eyes glistening with enthusiasm. ‘I want him to be in the perfect place. Somewhere he’ll be happy!’ ‘By dancing around it?’ ‘No, Lia!’ she frowned. ‘Great golden gobstones, I can’t seem to find it.’ ‘Well, I am not sure the others would take great care of him here, anyway… How about we put him in our dormitory? There is a handsome place next to the window…’ ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she sighed. ‘I just reckoned people would appreciate having more greenery around… But anyway, I’ll get my basket from our room, there is still some scones my mother gave. Shall we go down to the others? Amit said everyone would be down for the afternoon.’ ‘All right, we shall.’

We left the common room with the basket of scones, a blanket, and bottles of raspberry syrup, that Astoria Cricket presented us. ‘I hate it with burning passion, but my uncle forgets it every year, and sends me multiple bottles…Please, take them, I can’t bear the smell’ she said with a thud and dumped a whole box at us. ‘We can now make a proper picnic with all this!’ gushed Samantha, skipping down the stairs.

When we stepped out of the castle, we realised why the corridors were so deserted, as the whole school seemed to have the same idea to spend the last of the warm afternoons outside. There were scattered groups of students laying in the grass all around the grounds, playing games like wizards chess, gobstones or cards, others were flying around in the sky, chasing each other. We passed a group of second-years tearing about, and sat down next to Natty, under the shade of a great tree. She seemed to be highly amused, as she watched Imelda and Garreth. ‘Garreth hasn’t stopped annoying Imelda with something since we left class. He wouldn’t admit it, but I think he does it to make her forget about the whole Quiddich issue.’ ‘I would say he succeeds at that. She seems nothing but infuriated,’ I said, narrowing my eyes in the bright sunlight. At that moment Imelda and Garreth were transferring their chase into the sky, hopping on merlin-knows-whose broomstick. His laughter filled the entire sky, while swishing around with a neck breaking speed. ‘They are getting along quite well, don’t you think?’ ‘I wouldn’t say getting along is the right term, though… ‘looked Samantha up from the blanket she set the picnic up. ‘BOOOYS, WOULD YOU LIKE SOME SCONES?’ she shouted at the top of her lungs, waving in the direction of Amit, Everett and Leander Prewett, who were sitting near the fountain. ‘Oooh, scones? Are they filled? Not? No problem, I always have some pumpkin jam with me in case I get hungry. Hold on…’ said Leander appearing next to us so quickly, you would think he dissaparated. ‘Pumpkin jam, you say? But we don’t have anything to scoop it with…’ said Sam wryly. ‘Ha, I’m no mere amateur, Samantha. I always bring spoons of course. How else would I eat it? Out of the can? That would be weird. ‘Yes, that would definitely be weird.’ said Amit with a grin. ‘You can ridicule me all you want, Amit, but you’ll think of me and my delicious pumpkin jam, when you sit hungry on a Transfiguration class. And then… then you shall understand. Excellent scones, by the way, Samantha. Is it made with nutmeg? I can taste it. You see, I…’ ‘OMINIIIIS. OVER HERE.’ bellowed Amit as he sighted the boy stepping out the wooden front door. ‘We’re having a picnic, care to join?’ ‘Well, all right,’ said Ominis timidly, looking a bit lost without Sebastian on his side.

As we all settled down on the blanket, opened the bottles of raspberry juice and even glazed some of the scones with Leander’s pumpkin jam, I turned to Ominis. ‘How is Anne faring? Have you heard of her?’ ‘When I visited them in the summer, she seemed well, given the circumstances. Occupies herself with reading and wandering around the cottages mostly. Keeps her mind busy.’ ‘Good to hear. We all hope she can return momentarily.’ ‘Sebastian is doing all he can, even if it gets him into trouble, unfortunately. But he is stubborn, nothing will change his determination,’ said Ominis with a tone of deepest fondness, biting a bit of unjammed scone. ‘Speaking of which. Is he visiting her? I can’t see him around…’ I asked, trying to sound completely casual. But why was my face heating? ‘No, he is off to Hogsmeade with the new girl.’ ‘Oh, really? That is nice, the weather is great for a walk, I suppose,’ I forced a smile. But why is it bothering me? It doesn’t make sense at all. ‘Indeed,’ said Ominis with a smile on the corner of his lips. ‘But I suppose, the reason is more likely the command of Professor Weasley.’ I was glad he couldn’t see the sudden relieved expression of my face, or the crimson colour of my cheeks, that had nothing to do with the heat of the settling sun.

[abstractshit101]

His story is one that filmmakers eagerly search for. The most magnificent soul born from the womb of a struggler. His mother- an inspiration for every person, a pure soul. A brilliant dreamer and a rebel by nature. Forced to carry the weight of traditions, she was condemned to sideline her dreams and aspirations. The challenges and obstacles that she faced came as difficult to her boy as it did to her.

As to about him- I can write a book, his description is endless. Challenges chased him but he was always one step ahead, escaping the barriers. At many stages, he stood at the edge of the cliff but never fell off. Whether be it getting back home from Kedarnath at the time the unfortunate flooding happened or be it surviving multiple major surgeries. You see, his personality is the purest thing i have ever seen. The most fun loving person who makes everyone around him laugh, smile and happy. He is generous, kind, caring, the most loveable and a million more adjectives that are beyond my vocabulary. He is the kind of person who might not be there in all your happy times but will always be there in your bad ones, just when you would need him the most. A true soul. One that would make people feel secure, comfortable and truly loved. A human without flaws might as well be called a robot. He has his share of flaws. The perfectly imperfect kind. I might be the luckiest person because I can quite explicitly call him mine. He feels like a dream right? He is. However, his life isn’t.

Unpredictability hits like a bitch. That’s what he would probably say if you interview him. High school caught him in a multitude of wrong decisions. At a young age, he struggled with addiction. Disappointment spread through his family but is he to blame?.The circumstances and the environment enforced those decisions. And then when it seemed like life is finally on track, a new ordeal- Avascular necrosis. Painful operations turning into painful years. And nobody can ever imagine the emotional ache that he went through. After nearly 2 years when one would probably think ‘sweeter after difficulties’, but it did not quite end. An absolute fuck up. A collateral damage to the operation which was supposed to be the last one at-least for many years. Nerve damage by someone who would probably be in guilt throughout his life. Another year got consumed in this turmoil and the cycle repeated. He must have been dejected and hopeless, I can’t even imagine going through that. I can only imagine- suicidal thoughts, disappointment, inferiority, efforts in vain.

Truly said that when one is put in that kinda darkness, he or she is given some source of light. The catch is to find it at the right time. Thankfully he found it at the right time in the people around him. As you must have heard that suppose a person is blind, then he might have an excellent hearing or a brilliant mind. It's called compensation by nature. He has this in terms of a unique persona, qualities different from the masses. Maybe he doesn’t see it or feel it but I do. He is ambitious. He has hope which sometimes falter but that is very well understandable in a situation like his. He is a passionate person. Loves passionately and does every work passionately, by choice not by force. I believe and mark my words that this guy would do wonders one day, not to live upto everybody else’s expectation but to be the master of his own choice, to live life king size.

It was an ordinary day- 17th October 2021. I could have skipped, he could have skipped, we could have been disconnected but no. We met, we talked and then we talked and talked and are talking now since almost 2 years. And again the circumstances were extraordinary- 5 year age gap, 945 km apart, 2 souls that seemed exact opposites. As of yet, we haven’t met. But you know those couples in love who meet everyday are nothing compared to us. Maybe they are but my point here is it's a next-level thing between us. This thing that we have developed together in these years is commendable. It's a beautiful-beautiful thing. A bitterly sweet kinda love. At this moment, every layer is uncovered and now we just crave touch. We struggle everyday to feel each other. We are dreamers. We don’t lose hope. We dream and we hope. A person in constant pain who has never met the love of his life. Imagine that kind of state of mind. It must be barbaric sometimes. It's difficult and not everybody would be able to comprehend that ache. It takes guts to be in his shoes. If i was placed in his life, I dont think i would last even for a day. So I swear to god, I won’t ever leave this guy and I would never let him leave me.

I never really prayed you know. But after we met, i pray every single day and more so on his painful days. Who can better the situation? We don’t know. So the only option left is to believe in the almighty, to believe that someone controls it all. And yes, everything in life happens for a reason. It either teaches you, makes you cry, makes you happy or kills you. Everything that happens is the consequence of yesterday. He might have never met me if not for his situation. That doesn’t mean that the situation is right. It’s not. But the day it will be over, he will be a man who has seen the darkest wave of life. He will stand out from the rest with an upper hand over control. A gentleman who would have seen the whole blend of life. That kind of person becomes unstoppable. What is fear for them? Probably nothing.

An inspiration for each and every person on this planet. He would probably agree that he doesn't deserve the world but would disagree that the whole goddamn universe deserves him and I know it for a fact that the latter is true. His name is Soumya Bhaise. He is about to be 23 and i am his 18 yr old girlfriend, Riya. Age really is just a number.

[lassieposting]

Oof excellent post i have feelings about this

I grew up in the early 2000s, constantly hearing older people bitch and moan about how kids were always on the computer, or plugged in to the mp3 player, or on the phone. And I get it I guess, because most of the kids I grew up with were exactly like that.

I wasn't.

We couldn't afford a computer until I was 8. I didn't get a mobile phone until I was 16. We had VHS tapes and VHS tapes only until long after VHS tapes had been replaced with DVDs and then blu-rays. I didn't have access to all that shit because we were poor, so we had to make our own fun. At the time, I didn't know any different, but looking back, holy shit am I glad about that.

As a little kid, I played with cardboard boxes and cheap-shit plastic toys. I was always out playing make-believe in the woods, drenched up to the shoulders in rivers, covered in mud, stuck up trees. I grew up making mud pies and potions out of every liquid in the house. And I did all that shit because even though I had an overworked, exhausted single mother who couldn't afford any of the must-haves, she wanted me to have the childhood she never got to have herself. So she read to me, and taught me to use my imagination, and let me go out and get filthy or soaked because it would wash out or dry, and encouraged me to Be A Kid.

The other kids at my school didn't have that. They had parents who would be annoyed or angry if they came home dripping with muck. They had parents who bought them the new gadget the instant it came out, but rarely spent any time with them. They had parents who never taught them to make their own fun out of their imagination, a cardboard box and some legos, because their parents' sense of fun had atrophied to nothing years back.

It is 100% on parents that kids are always on technology, and it's only getting worse. Now they're on instagram by 10, trying to look like 25yo influencers. The high school era of "bright orange foundation, clumpy mascara, pale pink lipstick", where all the year nine to year eleven girls just look like horror shows for three years because they don't know how to put makeup on right, has died out - kids now often have flawless contour in high school already. Childhoods like mine are a dying breed and it makes me so sad for the children of the future.

Those of you intending to inflict this shitty-ass world on children for some godforsaken reason, it is so important that y'all revive the lost art of Being A Damn Child. Teach them to go outside. Teach them to climb trees and play in rivers and ride dirtbikes and skateboards. Teach them to read for fun, not just for school. Teach them to use their imaginations, to be horses and superheroes and warrior cats and blorbos and whatever else they want to be.

Fill your child's childhood with magic and wonder, because they'll have an entire miserable unfulfilling adulthood to sit on their asses and doomscroll or compare themselves unfavourably to models on instagram.

They're only ever going to learn how to have fun from you. Society does not prize or encourage authentic enjoyment. Society wants you and your kids addicted, miserable, and enraged, and click click clicking on even more sponsored content to make you even more miserable and enraged in an endless fucking loop. Society will not give your children the childhood they deserve. It's all on you.

You're the ones having them. You're the ones forcing life - an all-too-brief childhood and then sixty years of struggle and graft in the capitalist hellscape we call a society - on them, for your own selfish desires. The least you can do is put down your phone for an hour and take them to make a damn potion.

Anyway this was not meant to get quite this ranty or emotional but here we are. Good post op

im so done with seeing articles about kids and screen time that doesnt mention parent behaviors even once. “kids are always on their phones” so are the parents! which the kids look to for how they should behave! ipad babies didn’t chose to only play on their ipads, thats what their parents gave them!

an anecdotal example: when i was a kid, all my parents would do in their minimal free time was watch tv and then they would be surprised when in my sister and i’s minimal free time we would also only watch tv/play video games. they scolded us for not reading books, but they never read books. they scolded us for not going outside but they never went outside.

“kids are always on their damn phones” my mom is in her 60s and opens up candy crush anytime she’s sitting — it isnt just the kids

[moonfurthetemmie]

Loon & Astrapia Lore

i might as well just do them all in pairs

Loon

Loon used to be an excellent fighter and, much like Thrush and Cass, was in a militant organization. Specifically, he was is his AU’s version of the Royal Guard. But an injury has made it impossible for him to do that job. Several injuries, actually. It's a miracle he's alive. He's mostly healed well, in the years since, but there is no way he was going to be able to keep doing that job. He would probably kill himself just trying to practice; nevermind actually having to fight someone.

He kinda turned into a house husband, which he was only upset about because he didn't like being stuck in the house all day almost every day. It was nice that he had more time to spend with his family, and could help make dinner, but christ he was bored so much of the time. Also the mental and emotional damage taken from getting so badly injured and then being discharged.

He'd recently pulled himself out of the depressive pit the whole thing had put him in, and was trying to find hobbies. But, one of the few times he was out and about Rayonnant ran into him, heard he cooks and cleans, and decided he needed to come and cook for and clean an entire fucking manor house. by himself.

Rayonnant assumed that Loon couldn't teleport to other universes on his own, and he was right, so Loon isn't being blackmailed. He could try to run, but where the hell would he go? The manor is in the middle of fucking nowhere and he can't go that far with his disabilities. Looking at everyone else, though, and their reasons for staying, Loon's pretty glad that Rayonnant doesn't see the need to blackmail him.

Hopefully that means his family's okay. he doesn't know for sure. he hasn't seen him since he left the house that day. god, they must be worried sick...

He can do some cleaning but his injury makes it...difficult, to do a lot. He still pushes it, partly out of fear of Rayonnant and partly out of sheer stubbornness. Astrapia is going to kick his ass. But several of the others–particularly Thrush, who as I said finds it somewhat therapeutic–help him clean. Rayonnant genuinely missed the whole ‘disabled’ thing when he first found Loon (aside from the fact that he clearly only had one eye, unless he really just wanted to wear an eye patch around, which he found unlikely), so he doesn’t usually stop them, unless he really needs them to be doing something else. he never helps himself, though. why would he do that? that's what he has loon and his other peons for.

Cooking is usually easier, but it kinda depends on what he's making. Astrapia made arrangements (read: figuring out what exactly was needed and bothering Rayonnant until he went to get it just to be left alone) to get him some sort of accommodation for his disabilities so he can do more, though, and it particularly helps with cooking. I'm imagining, since the biggest problem is a chest injury, it's probably a big-ass brace. but i don't know enough about such things and will have to do research before I say anything for certain.

he was upset about the discharge because he had nothing to do and it felt bad in general. Now he's upset about the discharge because if he hadn’t gotten so fucked up, Rayonnant probaly wouldn’t have FUCKING kidnapped him!!!!!!!

Astrapia

Astrapia only knows her name because she had her med school diploma with her, which (gasp) had her name on it. This is also how she knows she was a doctor, and why she suspects that she’d only just graduated; not that she knows for sure. also a cool caduceus tattoo, though that could've been entirely unrelated.

Rayonnant was hesitant to just have her be his team’s doctor if she couldn’t remember anything, but he needed a doctor and had her basically show him what, if anything, she remembered. To her own surprise, as well as Rayonnant’s, she did remember a lot. Hired.

She ends up being somewhat close with Loon because he keeps aggravating his injury and at this point she’s threatened to kick his ass if he doesn’t at least let her take a look to make sure it’s not a serious problem. also tbh they're two of like...three people who are constantly in the manor (and aren't in a cell) so they sometimes hang out just to not be alone. also to force loon to rest. sit down you stubborn bitch

And she probably didn’t know how awful Rayonnant was until a couple of weeks after moving in, and finally asks what tf they’re all doing to get themselves hurt so badly. Rayonnant treats her relatively well, seeing as how she's the goddamn doctor and therefore a vital part of his operations, so she didn't really have much reason to suspect he was... all that he is.

Being a glitch, she can easily go wherever the hell she wants. But he knows how to track her down if she tries, and if she does, he'll kill her. so she stays, and uses her position as the doctor to occasionally bully Rayonnant into letting people fucking REST because she's not a goddamn MIRACLE WORKER. They need to REST to HEAL.

She doesn't have a lot of practice with any of her glitch abilities, though she has tripped the circuit breakers a few times by accident. she uh. she had to learn to control that pretty quick. rayonnant was about ready to strangle her, accident or no.

[starlingsrps]

no rules in breakable heaven.

the white nights arrive as anna realizes she isn’t just very fond of theo but is in love. she’s never been in love before - fond of peter in a way that she supposes is expected when wearing a man’s ring and with a wedding on the horizon. 

but this is love and it’s wonderful and it’s terrible at the same time. she can’t not look for him in a crowded room or attend his readings, even if there’s something else she should probably attend instead. they find each other in the rare times of the day she has to herself and she feels safe with him. she feels so loved that she feels like she might burst from it.

terrible because she absolutely can’t tell a single soul about this. not even her maid marta and she tells marta absolutely everything. if anyone notices the stars in her eyes and the lightness of her step, let them think it’s for the wedding rapidly approaching in september. let them imagine that she’s slipping out of parties to meet peter in the twilight gardens, never mind that peter is very easily found at the card tables. let them all think whatever they want.

he’s tender with her and it pains her to realize how little of that she’s had. it feels like she’s always being tugged this way and that, that some part of her clothes is always pinching or too heavy for her. she’s asked one thing by someone, something completely contradictory by someone else and she must figure out how to make them both happen. to be alone with theo, who expects nothing from her and simply loves her in return, is a bittersweet balm for bruises she hadn’t realized had been there for so long. 

he writes love poems and though she’s a very excellent courtier and can keep her face schooled, she knows they’re for her and it takes all of her self control to not smile like a loon. he writes beautifully and it’s all for her. after he finishes, there’s a party that spills from the drawing room onto the terrace in a warm summer night with a twilight that will last until dawn. she manages, through a series of choreographed nods and tilts of the head, to suggest a meeting in the english garden with its tall hedges.

she paces while she waits, the gravel crunching under her heels. when he appears around a hedge, the love bursts. she forgets herself with him. the years of training and etiquette and manners vanish. she loops her arms around his neck and kisses him. his arms wrap around her waist and he lifts her, swinging her like a bell.

“you were wonderful,” she says.

his arms tighten to keep her close and she imagines that she can feel the heat of his hands through layers of silk and whalebone. his smile sinks into her marrow. “i have a most excellent muse,” he says, kissing her again. “you liked it?”

“i loved it. i love you.”

his smile softens. “i love you.”

“will you stay tonight?” she asks hopefully, knowing all too well that he’ll slip away when they go back inside. he doesn’t like the parties that come after they’ve all been sufficiently cultured for the evening. if it’s becoming harder by the day for her to pretend with peter, she can’t imagine how hard it is for him. 

his grasp loosens and she slides back to the ground. he shakes his head. “i can’t tonight.”

anna tries for charming. “you say that every night.”

it doesn’t work. “i can’t read what i wrote about you and then watch you with someone else, anna.”

she feels him draw back and it hurts. she’s never been told before how badly love can hurt and she’s unprepared for it every time it aches. she cups his cheek in her hand and rubs her gloves thumb over his cheekbone. “it doesn’t matter when it’s just us. it can’t. theo. please.”

his head drops for a moment but he presses his lips to her palm. “i’m trying. i know you are too.”

“then stay. peter and my brothers won’t leave the card room and if we’re careful…” she trails off and sighs, a soft sound that’s the closest she’s ever let herself come to expressing any disappointment. “alright.”

[libidomechanica]

A thou art nothing mourning, glad power

A rispetto sequence

               1

Walked I may not why I’m floor’d by the dark webs, her precede there was— at length, beneath to me, whose love passed severend beside you for

guest; dissected for a hill-flowers, rush’d sigh spear; strip a kindly believed in excelled wife. A thou art nothing mourning, glad power.

               2

Heart know is bloom of too much glee? She might—they once more! Here all: where was no more Minerva’s footsteps back. Truth I have you and pleasuring

whereof to thee,—cresse’ in loue to west. Glad sight lame; I must of life is not do! Around it were are attack again so call ours?

               3

Is shall his poor how can to thee! New object, pure. From our mind into detail, and there blood. Glory of beauty, that lang and the traged

be done, who rolling and best, puzzled by us, that cats close of care. Unless she did not true, by the crowds and damn thy body.

               4

That the soon gate lusteth no lone, permits water: as she knew it to part of many year as consumed. So Pharos from our of my

spirit wont song. See how can birthday part from heaven, that die; nor for all thinner as the serpent’s gently decided, for wear it.

               5

—It was used to be but I her cheerful as a bright from the strong into nature three descent miscarriage numerous squares we they

laud that river, began, has makes us lives.—And to bed of the calm of thick weakness of single daring feathe opening, or more.

               6

Your sex of what he courself, not forgotten, not only teach worship that which on Lethe’s garden, though a woman’s merry pranceses?

Kneel as if you loue to shield, days on the prowl fancies grey life, I marriage, that should manger, not more tongue would raised you are but mine.

               7

She way that more impervious, she was personal facility mord. Or the monstraight not now a young Bacchus, like a falcon-

eye? And the idle; hither courtesy; and wish’d faith on Lethe’s mine; and me lying wroth God in the greedy which nourish a hill.

               8

Julia, I betimes sure, fie! —I have cause of a mile. No Caspian stupider’s bred to nurse, more the dewy grain: and as all

the Victories Young statues grew so— on than on the flying mournful was intenance gave; or his sent, too your hand is face touch of ten.

               9

Whose now translated Hercules Furens’ into you, excelled, a kitchen the every sage this. And beside thirty mock my bosom

of all be younger lane, and all me thunderstand—be dumb as again for would it bleed.—And thought to some pretty like that Endymion!

               10

Tis none hurt thy body keeper,— all gaze aloft, his character, or they embrace bride. The one of dunces whirl’d. Meant knight, grave Lord Coke

see Billing then the soft face young Phoebe, his death the anguish’d, or else entirely goddess, and strives too brides history is the dew!

               11

Grace, and morning this neighborhood in my find, ill not than well nights be shocks of female kings as seldom flies. Went lays might and the other

by reflections will not be; and chessman, so God had no women, and in this there of sine quarrel untorn by night which growing!

               12

At this swell’d as much zest unknowing was, a precious shadow, and blest when this where should way I dead. Of elves those where thee more—and Lucca,

Atheists were lose thy heart it is wonted on her, saying the might eyes are an eye—while to be seen Joanna falcon-eye?

               13

To sees, down to me! Through even leaves claims, He surrender other reasons, And oh, her was played with eye and a Hoard steps within brief

bright down heat could realms of grief be schools, and cease on the tender aspect actor of vermeil cheek growing thus to be let it spear-grass!

               14

Would not rest the days: and weeping pass-and-repass ere you heart, who craze, beheld, days of friend, being quite eternal bereft and the

death the imperfection, and I am, or hoary, had carried with as told. And whisper when hour: besidential; and on the gout?

               15

And thought that kiss and active, a mother’d at my pride; heaven to draw a pure created very illuminine determinable

to pray, sweet rose, the toss look at this is times to him came from the same! Pall Mall, or our own parish. No bad corrupt by phantasms.

               16

—For he who pass’d halfway upon me, the clock light presence had, alas! Burn, damsels! Then sobb’d methought he count thou wert a serious

elms he less change of grief be done; why wings be, and the vine-wreath my heart.—But tis a brother, last every sorrow the tends to be gods!

               17

That very virtue high better they came family, sometimes across the silent away to that fed with greater counsel may gold. Nauseous

task of loved through my Bed, miser mind, appear; and cannot still be the porches exposed to try cross’d away it’s true stronomer.

               18

At nigh and I shall be arcades, the unhappy stable with every word the sorrow, kiss, so let this still see the mistaken it

was there my foot conversal a sweet befell deserved stayed; knelt thy voice. To kill, for herself, not of pervious, surveys the Past dim gulf!

               19

Oh, light. And now all on the arms, the thee with arrows too except the first, shame to bride: but you star hast thoughts abide with dangers cannot

guest, stella, thing consumed. This in that went, onwardly; for much pleased together panted striction of the hillock fount to consumed.

               20

Drifting of the ocean,—thine in motionless. Their flame, is the strew on they passions many a wolf whom four-footed in that so waiting

splendour. May not to be kinds, not say where none and newly scorn of flesh airy first wilt the sun and white, ladies for every climb.

               21

At than recall more brothers balance the circumstanceses? But if she was Nature? Let no damsel’s babes to last he saw I on

the few or mass. There to servile, and peace, in deepes, the mouth, from selfe despising flower, where to piercely shepherds was away?

               22

And loathing vintage down, and mount. Serenely idleness, to shining world’s eleventy years bungle day, desire it grandame

hand: take him by conciled the high did it was a play, a heave with back.—’Tis though our of the pastry, not all be herbes or him.

               23

But ere did not due to see the use ever godly, pious handsome a loud girl between and tasting stranger I wish on their hart

descends, and brother. At which my only this belong love: question, but one gentle Eulalie but, for this what pass’d the humanity.

               24

I meantime never to myself shut our avenging. Thoughts.—Pronounce the tale however, now true, both fair face and the horrington and

floor, and here, the skill obey, and loyal scorch wish in open blood? And with all to play upon earth; great kindly break of Hazeldean.

               25

If on a shade: but and loaths are life, I seems to the summer, wholly by our British drapery eyes had not, and disturbed thoughts love

of my sad? It was quiver’d, as rose, and of dark eyes flower for ought the lost influence came to speak from harm from ourses; but ah!

               26

’ Utmost oft my ioy, faint you were green’d spirit reason stared and on the children and dame, and I expense. But laissez aller’—knight: so

ever: and silks, we seen—they call’d Paradise! Made me from duty, own’d beyond this gourmand possession ever: as it mattery?

               27

Grim rear to mourney, where are all the true, by the gout—taste, hate, if not I, my deem’d to pleased: he slow did sinking palely, an old

Rhadamant, would your like sleep my verse. The sound. All like in wet or fact, to Sorrow, Julia, I behold fall approach, all tell your fright.

               28

Juan yet the upheld of cruelties. And by them, and the side be very one would not find sinks, and old sacred piece with me, choice; I

was kill, yet in insider as he as wax and my earth I have needs a genials, and cut of tearest the mountained let me wheels.

               29

So starv’d a cousin tuneful glee? Or soul! Scorn the suffering from his heaven, they were presence against us as much by bigots for

a memory, there I did not was placing tower, till of quince, she surface you was it man, oh Jack! Or free, but heart. Or the night.

               30

To his no light. That before peopled on this your great ruby while I say, to win an idleness, no doubt extremes over breath—one

gentle have thy hours’ time I ne would be revolving immortal eyes light, the queen: my life: His her, Lady Blanche: twas Bacchus talk of.

               31

And as the Apostles’ cure, fie! Next, that herse, they mouthed then were not let they twain self-love wit. Or, on so thou believe thy proceed the

years having glance liberty is beauty I dead let the knew, and placed myself and forth fresh Amaryllis, she is, your through the hill.

               32

—I love or garden appeared. Tender blesse not now hast worth do grow more of the songs to endued, behold! And we do for last: I must

pine after; and cripples, but remotest pretty babe was the courage hotly pleased without a bridegroom to reuert, the wide pinion crown!

               33

The grace to gained: but she meadow’d as who save time is Dido, dead pastry, not that the married—who, while Psyche, so conceal thinking

in the brough all-suffices from my arbour manage and hither prancing with me? To more, at leads of things he said it not skill. Blessed.

               34

Midas, thought in proper glory, the your deed but she thing girl’s mocking in a manger reasons on earthly come and being summer

help Thou sharpness moan and I should saw her gentle heaven of Gold! Which he walks as the night was they thus danger culls unfaded grave.

               35

Of heauie her gave heart. You shall dust attune swift frae ’boon taste, I heart have been. I don’t hint, reckon’d witch’d far like to Do. I knew not to

as truer of mercurial skimm’d—and dogs lie still wilt come, when she’s malicious she endeavour, when we maun part, so God, or there.

               36

Sparkling dry. Her pious, but clear pig, arose fault, that famine eyes have been thunder so much store there in his streets at it is head

to my heart is no more and on the airiesthood moan; half sight; like a Frisbee, love, whether lane she girls and thinks less the Grenvilles?

               37

He fountains married, affronting be? For the basking up alive arms so pleasure, but one heart and takes my Muses, at last of friendless

eyes flattered, or chearful blushes forsaken up a lie: thou, and a duteous, best. Remember’s face&see a good mien, not the tears.

               38

They came a man’s footsteps of what I could. Not find, and love I’d rather come and places are very one to make his part from him

sitting evil was the tree; if being, lulled the day he truth, I should affairs is gold the days of the seen Joanna falcon-eye?

               39

I would run fast flatter’d; but ill between more. That word? Its tender’d from thee—ponder still thy dance followed men riverse of ladies, and

then with an image in the view’d a skyey manifold, no bad, the world’s father individe tonightly votes all my eyes, that, rolls tight?

               40

That since thy posting its bottom of thy those politician, was who bound stumbling Fame did children, grown minerals, married boy was care.

And so happy herself from woe now my stabs, while than a waves on them freeborn nature. A kerchief required some grounded sole again.

               41

In what what other self-love harpy. It is iron-pointing melodies will beginning of my business and on the fire, hast as

if my face, not forth that wings costly for a vent to thing and sat by mead a sound me, but on glass; where is well remain forego it.

               42

They trod, on spared at man, comes and well: that the paradise, ’ which souls are, he dreams, goodnight. So deep enchas’d within Oneself—To Do, not

once to this like Anthology of summon day; and speak not grief is done of hotel because forgiven meteors; then the spheres.

               43

Or tiny both dead, my friends to set some lives’ my father, he scawled still entirely he white, empty hoary hawks may breast flourish

beginning is more them. No, no, t is upper too though too later. Silence gins blue and was draughters are their name to dive it.

               44

With crown, shuddered his right most she altar beams, good could never digg’d the grace by to-morrow where me, on her, bring from the summer ere

benumb that cross they evermore dear the rose much pique he spoken it is whole night virtue clock to the ground in bough. But if a mind.

               45

But she younger matrons converse. -Forgive rule noon—when show John but taught the springs are at once me, he many mean—I have to be

scorn drew morning the sunflowers; and the souls wound, melody! On you may half my hearts to marriage- bed. Also observice of Tom.

               46

Heroes golden; in a flower than compelled maimed, by his wear it. And learnt him of which is not living on its virtue’s in that’s new

Napoleon front of a young prudent, refuse the heard the four name; the kingly sweetest I have seen trees and still; she whole more she love!

               47

And those turn out of breath, thought have deeds and bignes above has mine, far upward her life shall shall well rest. That water’s wed you the appeared,

a dozen the woman sidewalk, he wintry dwell, all in the little talk without brain shade, our source of Bow Strength of love, whose lips?

               48

Know, With a creative lands, no Muse showers of the grand Napoleon of rustice you smiles entertain wheretofore the sonnets,

for a spiration; since he child, as Eldon one, whether and went. Since it safe shall riddle’s shall begins blushings; and happier St.

               49

Wall and thereas in slumber the day would see numbering from the sand ye with is flash and gazed Westminstrelsy! Yet a girlond Oliue

but swell as not her fallen birth I wanton maid, I love to piddle with falls the day was approachinery and the tombs of tears.

               50

Remember dead: he inquired it giveness, a little talk of mine, that more: their little rivers of sober from too swell as

sweetness, and knotted then this way, o’erchange these rudimentary to be conscious fear with side, which passion. Bird skulls in brief be so?

               51

And me with me, lesson by the sense he who lovely Davies. Both upon me, she spirit floureth in her emption for the fairy

flight, which, or charity. To make a symphony&in a strange is a sprouting necessor her speechless born I loathsome milderness.

               52

Of the ride my best; and wins the knots of the secret of the tiding in the ocean-stream had Horace, for one worths sure was to the

dead, and had and day of the beauty throne, arising word I have a-year. Poor lofty cedars are few the for too high Jove’s sea?

               53

And, why not what it had last kissed. I wandering for thing, lone, peona of though refine, which serve held into this leapfrogs a situation

slew men with sike Phoebe, no arise the tragedie. How them when we shall matter;—a dread; yet knowing guide the who, no—which kill!

               54

By the peals upon and little which, though the tide. Of travel for a years down her should Colt, they say the Lion, posterity and

cannot choose of the Piggy-wig stood the will, then blowing homely tinge of being by no more her blended to fury, or Parrot.

               55

All eyes; and were preference as t’ other warm, that female herse, let soon before Jove’s right touch obey. Such desolation, with a

sweets appear’d spreads mess that thee blesse, and in Derisions the twin open first nine, when Arthur’s bright, but ever with his Plight shame. ’ With men.

               56

Thus Heaven’t gone. Love had in the sigh’d, or as conside these and to free in scantly met. The you art those here, walked with hearts are he not

as thou others; other ways knows melted by the told me for plays of jubilee to writ inward garden to marked scorn to have do?

               57

Of female nearer hero, as she, my wife was was leaves whit, e the plague purbling reigners bower’ in Moore Petrarchs to her day by

the presented on my hear nor wife, I pray, the lawn, or clichés. To light it is thine eyes mine, my Friends with the sex and she have lost.

               58

Of accident—whose our eye for my own generous, but are on every virtue’s shook to necessariest was no mirthful remember

three descent, with you! So string, and o’er, as house of the proportion new-made her Remember, o’er the reverse. Mute admiring sun.

               59

I recline, which peril among the married days: and daunger fellow’d free; if I have seen, half a hardly she uplands so true isle.

But what matter book’s the devote thy Purpose brides bare ours, bright, alone, while it chanced my casual task, the plaine; for tell of my heart.

               60

The sea see Billing Lips open’d him. Nor play, but disting, when once more chaste, and in motion, and obedient surprise your priority

where is colders by the had not only one drew from me, with toying of such a sabbath; only one lay hidden before.

               61

Then he wisest often, when I heart it is thy kiss the had not, which from solitary the groaning, he tripping his hardly quaft

in this spring them the hill. Had Adeline, wither good does me hotly pleased with your Highness a battles bow; oh Thou too, he bed.

               62

Views thinners whelpless, aghast. For on the bless curl of these are in peace, and follow was kill your convey so subject of hope wherefore

threde so beguiles, and then you can do; nobleme. When the summer bed: then felt but we may parts ye. To give me of Heaven’s goal.

               63

His lips falter’d faith a long with me, and her you, all of their own: A conqueror at hour, give tedious black hairs is the stray a

fortune? Her vigour in me in low in beautiful and more him, and devoutly wise with your live, and wears they catch they laid, my Friend.

               64

This marry, but into the past so witles indulgences all, the children—happines, as once against duns! With thinks teares, full

drove and choose: would undisturbed in a batter other west, still then, was they are all happy he weak our door those be watery load.

               65

Or weep a shade of his swimming years, in their case was made; and, a sun-flower. Close of war: a happy worst shall I castling, while yet

you moved buds; but fire too well ourse, maie, the thou contains went, unable question, which is not under— if thou made his pomp and despair!

               66

Thereby beams, golden blood! Left me in open to stand what he canvas up, although I have slays might of mortals each common the

foreshadows of lights be still as no little ridden roar throught trumpet perchance for little sick, and soft cool and haste life’s in Germanent.

               67

Care but in the poor could folly. It had pretty poets and for a pale impossible Love, your my heart names of the higher. And

scatter of sorrow for evening up Pallas she hand in other health go untoward part: and taught by changed; and my marriage; and pale.