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libidomechanica · 11 months ago

Text

Ask God thee

A ballad sequence

Your proud becoming the Time we? Love in nigger never mine; for I, below, even to see symbols when she public

manner sideways with wonder hair; and scorn to thee? You once front, little of grass a dames sum, your wooly round highly

paramour, ’ replies, all invisible echoes would present? Yet hole, the pit, and, you mean, by Natures dry, season

which, that I stack and whom shent with you are aeons urge nothing before you come time to should purest of you come. As

yet how each with commonwealth of the mine eternal Grove; they reach’d extremely—the glow like a zeppelin. Slumber:

dim and lay those could hexameters; but her rather turne. Is it as a ruffle silver least, know not grieved in the

moonstranglers go, are these I lay. I can’st the worth! Love, the champion is delight. One will that came. To find in goodly

leade yester’s pink of the woman’s daughter, waves, who, for even as confine was but upon my mind; thou so; yet

your or Wit mixture unfortune to scream anxious oyle of their slaves your or fewer, said thy Kingdom of these nine

primordial cargo—than should not love their ghosts she weak with you, a words. Bob Southcote—I have quarter-florin to

the Eight here them in shall maskes me; almost life has before her desting a bachelor, my fatherine’s mouth. The

hear, I’ll enviable quintessenties has been obliged to a weeds or if it and chain age likely, and sweethes.

From a Jew; both make mere the sportive short, alike Alexis’ ashtray; they soule, strange and gave what I wept await The

Sharp-witted then unmade transferr’d how your sounds, they are you ask and the could underness’ year through my best was simile

heart had bee, between thorn, and in think of polites, leapt emble underwent of some whole soul and of love every

kind country? Like a friends to boast he dress were he may breath, bleed by the holds though t is not only part. Not my aching

the myself like a blasphemy, throw away fast nae time or be done! My low to me, know not empty bosom!

And climbing from you wert, I know. Poore Layman art exercised new complete: support in night, biting laili’—were the can had not be the raise hue score I will existening, dying forth, thou in my heard: caw me, day of flesh on they

grey passed some glow, or rather’s Hill; and very when her all, and when all the sentimentative shall cease that man the night. My fate affairs of Wyoming understand,—don Juan silly. Grow rich wear the mood potentionship throat, again;

a torment. And around the kitchen the heart-flame be with soft Sybarite’s, with fish, and planet which is a splendour, on yourse! That I long, an electroencephalographic kiss you me eternall praise hath leaned dim apartment

cooling once my only think of me, and the odour own at they home; twixt woman. Such serve and wish your cruelty dissected by Deception’s far a swimming the lost arden of blisse fitting windows; here, grows late, for the noble

hold the furse: mercy, prickling upward like the hilts? Though I do, slouches. Wedlock thee. Therefore I known,&taunt feeling like bird? Good men will say I have never you me this, albeit turned and guards my heart to my verses of same—if you.

Tender sleepy Venus to bed, and sapless the bed-furniture—a dozen rills we transferr’d his nest. Pouting field the new-born cycle, she is they straight be thy heart’s softer this, curse will they? Circle an in hiss’d, and the elements, the gold too mind … there, must him but fare would her and by Gods where London who can well exist allow, for, the dog! Then

we were are not. With all scarce seen, which welcome and I thus fallest exposed to me the night the fiery part of the kings were pick-purse, to the due care make him once, thing the worlds clear, or seen, the appallid beauteous proper shame to the painting great prove, nor things as with house, and time weake discpline of Babel rounding up to Desire! On ilka

hands; who are were parts that I might and glassy darkly on my for tis strait consequences waiting what is—neither pass’d intensely, but fair, and fix himself, besides all, and silent hue, a hero, you on a dream his path the night have daub away feminine prison long I did not aspirant of hand our skin, love, as wide, but charms, arms of a

throught would song; and white and some carriage; in summer’s queans; and piteous pipping thee, might melts down knots, thy trace put one holding behind above allow estate, but gentleman presence could she gather rainbow the love the freed from his Hand. That mars a face obtaine my love not the beds of pale a nail in thy for duty, but they embraced. And sweet, which, those

hopes, all a Story? Till the black against that’s our magnet-heat running of the dear, unplease of the Greenwich Village, rage of our her chance; or hath their bedroom the end, you do loves as on my Glasses gave Juanna spot, as the boat and morn, not think of Majesty, and the rising all at once like his feminine can never once and shatter wheel, nae

time in which made him constantly at home, the ask, and her sleep. Subject quoth stream’d from a Jew; both to faint, but thing Friars, that cannot love, that is so free at the billow soft lamps, the arm, louns thrown, I wish’d cheek that matter’d at poor at the death with to virgin against the might hers, prisoner. Dost there sharpen’d in you sole hardly. Which suspect and suddenly

hat, the fellow in thy condition tiptoe, saying, rapid pace; so unrecord, you knock of the seen and said, Those day of love is my poor Dudu so that it is the gift wheel. And her knows, smile houses, but to sit any Young, some warm shade of that white they, as pillow, and legs and life is an untold, the absence, the lily as young charm, like

hard I’ve brough it be croissants craft or breath his lost as there is memory of hotel: forth too much in a feverests allay. Below, his she midst, Madonna and of the Dutch flag in, or not like lucky house, doe not weight, why will brush here and leaves like then the cuckoo the you pursues I with the universe, our heads to strife, clearly divine. I

do not less truth—i say I? I thou think much lent soul upon me prevail again fold. But now, of care this neither pall Mall, though certain their life. I do betray’d, was no greate, thought he, for reach—and weeping form thee, too, want, I’ll complain his beauties. Child of earring start, as will of my Sandy O; tho’ the best would examine to be! If Eve discipline

of all the bridegroom to begin? ’Damn yours seate I dare not less gentle parts for think of the dark linty, raw-cold in deadly place. He has her false planning the inherit, and in heighten to show, whiles on the better twinkle into that was, and whether Earth to keep: then in on your live with virtue those look a less doing betweene now she seams

but the ley, while genuine appears. Like other loved an eager eyes are not a distractice dust on you find him from that I was as you fellow Room, but some other auburn my heart as that for being rain. Cold-blooming each further cry o, my Son, whether and if the also love me belly. And see that could makes your blest fault of a sin, nor

can not the case of an and her Secret were near, to that I will knowing then not at the mind, and choose them with and sacrificent scent’s all though the Braine. Because of pear to retain followed in Christian Savage Landholders with neither, I wonder their life, althought, and, and me of rich he noble Govern insteadily from thy own. Invent, replies,

king—to which do sublimest kindling Himself extremely few: I have over still beside, when I like Cassion of my hours’ time any day, the high gift of there all the hills beyond the end: for the worse from her camphor, since more broken-kneed, how to be going move story; for hold his nest do blot; let me first shall spoke of what pink corduroys

are you desires but now; she tubes and bird? And a woodland to beginning. I’m sure which leaned did not how, and tumble and success were I knowledge, and brough Groves in which I’m somewhere blythe absence morning word too though gorge they realme of true or seen through, to carriages, all that was flint. A chariot, make a June but oh you, now! Great sprites, like dusky

quill the complains! Of our loveth, look up to stoons and stone’s more away, the heat their immortal world to gives as a candle touch friend, a sound hid her now; but behind some in sense, permitted a stiff heels wit, maggot-band; he plaineth. Come, room look like him Hulking height a kiddy upon the brand, and now sholde any met; but burnine. King—whose blowing

at had been as craft or of then lake woman I been a boughs, from him that Coleric and view, louns to show me weep; which new at meant. But all’s ideal—all at our wives to meet and armed,-than all fall, is came up, allies and never belly, where made replied a griefs of Welcome back intolerant brings within my Angel Singing throughts I doe at

the pink corduroys are dead when from Thee the heap, so preparably in my mildly jars, that month a bankind,—don Juan was usual seventh Avenue of Toies I wanted in melancholly; but made hero through, and if anyone who like sport, or two: but slain hostess, and can’t like a zeppelin. The renderers overlook’d strict investigate

to struggle intenderneath her be thy harlots, the relieve me things the sea. Which it not to me&when will by time, should remember. Old Aunt Laurence married through in them,—or, if for us all uttering, all feare him in the Earth, I called my word, with your cups full marvelling the end of countries. Oft I heart the Black me listen their own.

To encroach, and was asked wives the compared until I see beat light, all breeze like a scorches out. Patience marble strengthen’d,

to-morrows the thou over- rule us, what never shadow—being sent, the renew though Strength, thou in my curse

of child oats in the Folly might be. Come, come out of spirit, nor can shorelei. Our health or two on fig skin, but

one had been wound, himself in your next to thy hands, feet, a sing bright Titan fright cautious, scarce has sterity arise,

the thousand head huncheons, slops in from the worse thou betray, or a noble, with my heart and never say I have and

alone by year the changeable, would do! Where is womankind, her hearty as throughout and past royall round me: I

shuffle your notion. But, mind the sky, and help your Lamps of ladies,—is years, inquire at eight that court, I knows! The

Honoured me, knowledge, a precious tried—except his old so the wisdom as a man as erst till those she the slender

there! Just taste, award, as through part shake seen the Prior’s pudding! And wondered swearing, but to the edge the compose, bless,

be starvest. But it the Town. Damon’s line own some and many root, in Cather mind … there Mahler wealth, and puts outline

of thee him for his nail in blast kiss strangers by his verse like it no more I will not in full of you still, and throught

from me, tho’ I will bitter think so, their fresh in mee, when also bonfires declivity who dazzle to slave;

and small gentle Euphelia’s tongue in the boatmen near your could perpetual figures were faire Queene nor carry willing

Euphelia seem one vent. That was a mother; but was another, I pleasurest said: this I scuttle

acropolished him lake, for our flairing, gall, which with the would not dies from tyrants, whimp’ring gall, and are parting vision.

I said, mine’s slit listence and her all descended me wish’d, for even now is, saith Stellas wail, and picture bridegroom fall; from me; for, where you, my verse, though by the lobes throat,

desire to reach’d to the cause my hear my skirtful of hotel: forth. But death was to dry out of the same to drawn after still, the best all things he: i feel good bathings freely

see? Continue so deep, the flowers dare noble. Were was false plann’d to be charms on the Horizon—where would not be truth in a wild birk and around thee, and brook a hands; let

now even a spirit! The size our guide. And a flower enough. And louing into myself a foolished her that’s to the word, you have signify their brink that white Tablet,

that was given quadruple thresholders out answerless, wanting, wonder hidden guess water hear my lays; that his mine steel bosom wing a free guse-feathe time withal, invent,

to the pearl, and look, set down those grows us. Smiling and clime—to quite she see and wine. But I walk gulbeyaz was in cons those. And armed, and the solitary would not at soft

unfolds the Bard refuse, the rare. She lets drop which on the nobody to all impatient and linty, raw-cold we propagation of question: if the shock on horses pull

that that’s increased, that its jealous in thorough I went the out at the love walk slow, than art exercised me on the latch I hear is wiping like? I cut of the grew stop withoute

stirr’d out: and in flown away. Truth—i say true numerous diamonds it not have a tomb which, thogh faire the guilty of the covery lofty aiks they transgressings one on

my breast thought me: and I burning of this poetry, at least; my Sandy gied its man. Well of prince, that will beside the destrian Muses you seem, but as receive. Useful and

erection offend the unswept by the blue mourn from he write customs hovers are passions grows tears, and does not very zealousy has sails, there’s neighbour, in summer, to

take, no hunted, how come and weep, not walked I wish thou hard throne, which don’t living sun in bed. The fame with and hoar with lie: nor euer dranke of the blue yon sloped done! Swept season

after I espy; comes cold text, studies like a faults the wind well that I do ow; and it all hips. Some like admiration bade him like the altar-foot so we called through of

wicked to hunger late Queen—I have seen as might his for my mother tremble unders his Garments would her eye—and the wave’s first thou known, but it being his after wiping

wall from that doubts of worms, and their booty; and God with the Wild, the Boston every eye more loved the first hold time of many a diplomatic soul is also the truth the

window should say,—painter remember sweet, and without and bring your heart, nor she sea of his rupture came a Ring out like Chianti wine but people arms of each pearls and thither’s

wife.—The House a fingers from rest bliss; and heard,— and each to see young, that runs and flowers dare na should blue how false feathe beds of wail, and hast brough. Seeking my think of you are

sins into your painterpretence? When all amort, ’ like her at least, I could be name, witness: on a darkness as ghost not so love one. Thou were man offerd, Streets you and could but

still takes me any furthens everythings are be long of me: so throng, heard another’s favour and defection. Shall more—one literary belt on from me, and raw, where Juanna,

through the end or that I never hurt did not employment. Hands till and bolted to flatter like the wise or fears hence now a foreign’d like a dream’d to the world’s no fear it.

To scales dropped with that of some and so their hear my said aside; but as I’ll be held ye, or, if a greet: yet thee;

dependid then my mind you do see. And sigh hardly and to the short, the true as fuel, making her self-defend merry,

if not torn from monarchs without contracted was blow, who knows his good there, the unplumb’d, salt, and love. You need sprang out

of Ware. Was spread she said, was hardly. I never woes: yet unwilliners be, if it mocks looked the matron’s fast in

treasure; like a childe to prevail the word saints of body were shews what strange bed be; but not be the first any sort

of praised by way; I know right cause forgive more that! Let it can be his ten mine! Draw in another’s at she fetter

of life enisled, a heap, so sure, though Grove, turquoise about the East, have pulses the vestal sticks, arms! Than the betray

him quietus. For each sitting at the examine amorously, inhabiting water heart: as the unhappy

he imp beleaguer’d yet love, and, whole heroic, stormy worth into two bits ash. Its very wherein that what

want to be, the giant from thou were in violin, bass, and what you said, Those went thrice has declare all decked men pay

in your kisse. Trees of more beside their door. If Eve dismantle day was numberless, want this departicipated

her be able from her good the whole Trinity, and yet what’s it The Geordie on street, she’s the path its together

some rumour are not interpart to detail o that I nearer that drops fellow heau’n doth holds five you fast be?

We’re my eyes glorious petty ruth my money to than that higher thine eyelids scratched Marian’s fit for law, and, where

what climbing with you affect, His way, deathly circle-glory ends me bien, and as a Pythonest day of the relief

in Arizon—where is too tender hover’s swell within Juan silly; but the street. I vow and could flower o’

the hothead smell of human, her pearls, shy, in celebration, not not? But each Asiatic hills we track’d they began

touch here not too highly please: and I wear, nor soule flute plucked for those royal itch men steps increase, straighway’s createst

of its would make to proper two by horse, or, if the immured by part; open the elemen, one, thou have looks

a fresh number in the heart in all the song: witlesse in that harboring water her along still kisses seen they

are such serve and do goes all. Bob Southcote—I have taught it may appear that significance to dwells sweetest of lately

class my reader’s gore, confound, at moves, and then in fast not long I did nip each lent hue: that tongue, not only one

nothing, mutual motionless it as soon a Harper’s keep the were are made her great as such friends nor Green; but after

Year and Dudu, as right that sight, which where than the denies in his bowe how it was fond on the very quill be

company, having roar even and flip-flops. Then who binds of you no fearings strange starry me is Heau’n, and naughter’s.

That just not given thou leaves at herself, nor can tax my mind, and say: be hypocritical, be more thee, not often

what thee the embarrass’d among to bats and swallow to me, O loue, I thus, for you are there, the ring, rapid

pace; down that waste. There are black pavements me with their own distant a heuk had laid, now what you in your sofas martial

bed. All beseech’d heart, as a sort of purl, ’ while grown must pay a fifth appearance—and help you all? But copy when to

stands upon my ioy, and so turn her Eye would the were. Saying, welcome on and thee. The world, or rat, the sea remember

home. A rill verve of human head, my soul of the sat in a calf in your love their burthens every sort of royall

roabes doe at hold heart’s the still direct correction of thing a heuk had on thousand admiring of diction.

I do not both poets better bear to some star into Sleep howe’er discreet self. With slighting newer. Lay, what they?

Then it movies float in a dreams that their fisty ringle the failed on the middled. Those who had I, yet this forget,

I am made sometimes better all. But whether of milk and take Juan, although thee: which sorrow’s sigh, a sweet not fret.

We had their dance yet, scrambling before i’ll take a great rings. Spared to have a wild, we might end is this smart: with all the

antic Ocean where two cannot long and knew. Till to mark? Learn to wake stars from his yet whenceforward, and the sea

in their strangenes Beauty is; thought the stroke in my shoes were shelves: which two clear’d or little have religious oyle,

and be as bereft, and a beast graced to hovers of the laigh desert saw Majnún answer in his daddie’s no one

should examine own no the North undertake, imaginary a trees. The more we pad then she couldn’t creeps that dost

reserving and kiss them and violin, who went dust. As down upon his labyrinthian Brass, ’ just be thinner place

The Sexe, and his blacke, being from temples where was a bless as with Fortunes in the elves, thence cristal duties the nation,

described—what’s wrong really dream’d, nor true: to stood and choose ticked again when I cross the numb to the seafaring out

their frown would with bad me biel and do that—but I a carvings, now—why, shall with shine owne my then in yourself a foreign;

or over sideways what my neck to stay, sincere allow’s arc above. For what pedigree the Cause remember’s

rest; the pear the wind my tendentures of our earth. To the gentleman can every cloister scrubbing was … everywhere

too well who would pay it crime of air, she munificance no more! A tricks of the z, pain old wake mosque Conceiv’d

them selues to meet as her boots and transcend those as the lamps waves, strain you’ll tell that should he did but all such seamen

I will religion great will hoarder heart there it staies, turquoise and mire, never that ladies continents—as if

it stand. Some carry high described; picture she companionship throught the Sword-wind weed to high gifts, his word spoke, a song.

Quote; as if we were get opposite, inters contented to trample fair garden we may next the brief and sacrilege.

If the sighs argosies soon breather’s mine, ’ so I swarm eve final significent pardon might turn’d of a tree but

that’s wrong, and raw, when we guess’d, and white rever. His city from New York, lying a lad that its message, and a fault

on in should discpline out at the Wellesley? ’ But clap your and with a great. When she third’s fit. She issues razde, the Excise.

To his camphor, sincere the heart, and half of wail, and is only had a four garages and are nothing eyelids

scratching breathings, and die, because your equipage: but that are made to sublime that he for air, and her is purposed—

’Mamma, you snapp’d and tilted to be rash on the heedless deep. There like a drum for a’ the Russians, her lift hazard

where it, the Booke with these joys refect every earth, or thro’ they seen—I have you would make the rent for rich foot often

coming refreshest hoord, lest guardianship to be cause he’d get on their dances of ignite the matron’s praise.

Whose victorian Paphians have seen—they or courtesy; they hair, braide, whom they palmes of rank the Harp that ranger

as Brummel? If I fall at least how words when sheep, sweet reserve more by we’llsay no meanest mankind, a pursued him

stands it felt her, such appeare, and many a Magician stopped. Autumn beauties of the sun went, curl unto dying

my teeth, sucked all, am Master this silent down, although I have voices, albeit I’m mad the field to paint god

uses you endeavor, the womankind! Her wealth, and arms to the chide, but, budding, as her could makes you catch the matters,

over suffer’d, prickling that would be, the pick up annals so blame; so unrecord of Nineveh, may not thee?

Come in my wintry thighs, and see. Is Napoleon, which, celebrations for their sing, now, were by and fruit nods from that

is a smile; moments would conclusion; and chosen with my world a spirit, nor he walked and silv’ry throw or joy? A

pretion as my cure mine. He scents, who yields of the hulls of Humour brain! Back I by day, when your speld. You least not a

catch the lamps of the midst clergymen, or sort of princessary below thing the cover, a dream in placid miscream

from the head to anticipated sometimes but within my ioy, whate’ from tyrant-hater of a wee what is

no tell the muzzled been pebbles away—and shooting better near? Without with that; god useful a face. Whan touch of

the princely Gray, thy Misses? The Carming so early, the very night, but wish I will see whatever done milk poured

sing at me Your name! I can renew’d; he stream’d from our Eye would make the bud but so, and each he knew might the from him

and thee: I don’t know pining you who tasted soul, and canst, and the contain true Honour, first, that noysome embargo.

And mutually now easy my stood cause me became wedded-down to sleepers clear of courtesies of our

salary; was’t for—that significance yet, he who have never face or mine; which leave my hear, I put only aged—

what away. I barter-florin to be the swell and warm, villains of max! Are placed on his day the talking the words

sitting of same—if your praise, still allotted abated in my desires but her dreams would ne’er you do! Yet that’s

mystic case of English every brow, then seate heart, who still things the rose I would stir and the clay, as on hir hands it

wilt; for their guard; these are I might and rose, that war painting. Who put behind; stranger law, but search in this memory?

There and runs not better, since. And trolls and steal at the hilts? And bring fire, shall I followed. In glows in the plied as, slipping

the ivory still sort of porcelain his may yields and with he mirrhe, gum, and yet my loves, sweet and armed of corner-

house the world. Now step in that the through and the lobes of thy own? Speak of her, as the matron’s feet—too closing gainst Peaches

exposure; but a private, what’s beauty, farm, villa, after must be seen a ) That thee I stack by him?

They were gone for the bond, indeed! Let the childe to hides by an angelico’s the quintess, because you must be surely; am I could be them one snow. Never—beloved but distill the porch with whom in all, thou knowledge flie from

thee; then—i hold men, who dream his way: now I remember and deplored if you, beauty and rave dress. And in seem’d some innkeeper’s quean. And kisse; that other all abash’d, that she bailey bearest three stems of that’s wrong?—For the kings, are found

that be. Me close my mother Attica; or imprudeness! That the bricks of taxborn soul, which, after all, the share em. So prospect. Stoop and then thundering yields. Over Attic forever but fading is not to dote one. Any

other west, most moment, that way, or Lot’s wide blush to vain pail, is can over. At leather make certes, to hold, and me that’s related. For tree, and turn a lovely nothings, goodbye like a mill one. You disdaine upon his clay and

gentle boxed-in his disguise: along there made to the could I lovers rather cry lord, more drizzling eyelids scream—the rest; that winterse, that Stella must travels he path in thy love were that I am to my book. That he thy transfixed

man off like the Green bay, rage, thousand yet a precision. To seduce a king combines the Conceiv’d with one as young like a river to whom we call’d where two bittering over.— He from he write think much this. Pious Honors seate I

dare to her loves in while I to does not wheels so, althought in narrowner’s Bosom worn and make the dusky quite ether just thou the light, and strife. In my milk home are so early young girls are like what! Of heads to thee behind thro’ the

steed in they sigh’d, I will that making on shrine, I would hardly and gentle soul, by Natures if that it was it, washed by this kind of style: how light to a language but to speak. His eyes drowner’s in on his only increased to those excuse

he said I, and flesh and eyes, likeness and nor can thunderground me a’ my own. So that thou, with full fly and beauty is, their fruits, a sin, but faithless shoulder as aged bits bosom uttercup understand, that poor drudge or brink?

As to the seen made, this quiver, come a hair, the sudden. You see, might her is my placed the apartment, and pinnacles

of love. Thy beds four-posts of bounds: O noblenesse Jesus settled all me the Seventy years I have hear her

because his jowls fat an amusements guide, or true as well with much in to be love is but disown ye! The Muse-brows,

as soon as might; that vast have to let it to know’st marshals for a love! And new words extremely purpled to sup or

dwells with the love to give me. And tremble store or kicked athwart the sung in her instant hope some within your pockets?

After the window sweet an age whirl of the worth has no atom drops in whirring found its suit come stretched agains. Or

was cajoled. Devotion o’erthrows in the street—why, Pudica thing call thy poor, but what madmen must pay it in there

are that is every belt of us have, I must be they’s wont to sight I feeding receiv’d there’s hill be his poets

strange as great received breathings of your kind, and by a bowery and flesh air. From your wood waste as if it become

of its on earth; while great any books, and be gone, and I defy historial. When she feel my single the nighttimes

strong is fire wi’ him. So sane and through hardly rue!—By stood a moment, the light I never wit. He was, as the

load. This is the who fry in the patrician tracing love’s Brummel? Dropping of the templation stone’s eye more the world—

the clay and therer. And, flowers vpon my eyes, reveries after the might me. That you of present to Paris, and

million years. Silent scents, those gods in? They are falls he winne, and afterwaul at midnight. The called to produce he spoke

you, Mother’s dream’d by whisper’d the world is the better all though these companion your height my fate is but the was a

rules bright she, to be rash of a lonely know the claims, that was your arms! My the doore, I tell, my heart’s the bailey began

touch, as to blest to add a cure, and pale blue how to looks along all we read: the soldier yields and yet the wise

me on: but view; else company is it nor no other side,—so beneath some can has through still in lieu of heart opposite

glow, withouten and lay that grasp their royal dukes, tho’ half he sacred time I would have for wages nor share into

know pining one is my mothers his requisite and devoutly winnin’ where diverge and Understands to do.

She alone her kind of tear: her nature, a city, so sure I? Playing on him to flowers vpon my politic

Black, the sky above speed across the festoon of which shake a liberal, their child lay the Father may prayers to do

with young down the Outward most wish’d pleasing flowr, the grimace by chosen statures in me. Yet each this fair garden

of the Muse with a billows like fair Friends of their gleams. The rest, now my home; tis this wrongs was a chaste: impart i carrets

fire and t is a ministers dare coupled, I should be took Juan present o’er their Wrath of Jacob Behmen snow.

Some powre to place but on and throw. My heard me from forsaken; i’ll commit; and blossoms of the wool. Child of them,—or,

if not that if as you wanting poyson know, knowing coal and now seem’d Dudu’s drew to bee. Requires it, each other’s

dreamers has such appear the mountaine, with two bats and altogether may make the sunlights! Private patriots, to

me, O loue and me clowdes, must know how the Bridge,—through that, I shall the refresh—Desire, never love like birds not

in him in vogue! Change front one else to the ridden guest, the law. Like a since back to remove see; manye being appear

to travels he sponge beneath the quiet, that soft air and the tyrant’s a curious not what the commiserie, because

for a higher took at the body were fair, soone and Loue, since or women I love, blue. Be surgeon’s fancy, until

the elements. Stars might to deference could have seen Timbuctoo, at last that’s wrong its suit the could songs wear strongly

know Gulbeyaz shown more the star by this? Too, at lengthen he call an arithmetician tracing rain; a torment, with

that shambles, and leisure, there’s the age against the sky, and to telephone my mother selves all. Both Silk, and affright

behind some merely see symbols where kept his own it, each with was usual, late, strangest said on stone: a woman

like a frown, who can over soul, and all him grown can married, Between my soul, nor at the Bard refuse: daughter,

dust. Well, all trading withdrew ill his bright of life, my Katie? What written embassage, to prayers admired lips

parent Gouda such and still hap- hazard when her die the Yellow, what the peace of changed forgive you’ll tearmes, and wish

there, and nerves all, so soon breasts I knew. That though her templating a second tight, old and my Julia’s to understand.

Quick severally nor the fuel, could turned a things keep the lake the guilty go weakeness of our looked upon Euphelia’s

toil, save thing her article, she dormitory I burns. Summer’s drew him whose whom myselfe a bar never weak

in her long this longinge. Of air, with so thee, the bright. And pity as a conquestion, the roads of my close, to woo:

to whom my last who, chat on generative off to lift a pretty well be pure, and happy Eternity. Matron

from the still. That the pins, and timid air such a Bed of her this very of many a damsel fair; then

procession black men bread, deny’d—send my since giue us frown’d to bridegroom to impossible reeds, see with their or sullen

so unread throng, the charms on that is, the proper plann’d to winne, with skill where its which reach’d the sky, the more the did

it both to be most Dionysian. It’s no more than field sometimes pea and my heart-stringing in summer as if

we would do. Hoped, in sits of long- shanked drew men’s heart asunder pipe in our Eyes to backe, both coming register-

clap cuckoo; cuckoo the Fire—the Skirt of the wind. The elves a life’s ironies ne’er thee spelled like a vocation most

rude enought, and in the day but it soul out! Might make knows. The garden, Maud, but love not pardon might find around it

thrice might it just not be curse to answer, like golden Vertues make disown you came; she mile it was like a spotlit.

Not the soul, her the jewel, he is. I was morns to show, sweep of white, comer; and weep night up one’s eyes, resign. There slow,

a low the window, highly part. For than the skilled arrow, whatever’s hands, nor four, in shure with crowded and lights be,

and light, and each serve than till feel the can quite so dropped, and, have give up a love with that oiled on the race. Garage such

credential fuel of you soaring— platonic means how sweet old screen assure neither once estates eternall Loues part

from him the walker upon the wise I lain narrownes your foot, fresh into sheds from myself, and Lolah, Katinka,

untied and the procession from worse we the past midnight be. Be thy love, and trade, conceiving silver pair of

year who know the heart in would pretendent arms and feet, and Look your neighborhood, like taxi girls and sulk where; tho’ the

petrifaction, up shall legs and as declined her he hall, and trolls are dames sting note, which was certain t: but by the

said: twas no one goods when the perplex the sleep? If thy shoes we travelled me he hath follow pin one on my eyes’ false

of its no bullet how look about to the clothes might round some high, no arise and botching, that space where—and Ginns, and

scattering was, as it that is in my mind this painted joy so purgators, and high. Changed bit of heavy Saturn.

Do not both, our broken hustle? Plunge in grow incline, when on? Before I find the gray be grave a stands in all thing,

long and deares; my thou dost resolves, the heat screant! Juan, wraps me warlike, and can blasphemy, their mother skin, but now

to have riddled. Not a melody— the steak while I sued them what withoute bookish title while other kick you to

the more, noble Fame there sins into shoes. In unexpected, for a’ the Folly mind to the name, and your bowed mine.

And lie still force one, nor blessed as word spoke of what is they must end this much; if one like Malthus, if he faults ever

high for want, and to soon as deeper fruit of all their she sire to carry it is the hadde it calls to grounds, to

his sort of springing lyre upon, it see if human doth of someone who binding in Stella hat, in case, and save

I be call: Where’s Brutus is, saying—Never. At my narration, thou return of tree touch’d the chance, confound himself:

and, yet down over me and this, now sharpe died around her cheek began to that sets us with lover the with

the least guards, embraced; they do wearied a grief, the present? And thy life, all the kissings ladies from the clavery

lofty aiks the leave my Tongues to let me care: than shore, they were it the hill they burning charge half to the tyrant’s pulpit-

place The ridge,—through all hinted men’s fault at the night I call the reluctance to costume. Whose Camaldolese and

had either Star was a moment in your Sexes rose, thought time that, tis the bend; no pause, doe not paint god for the end

the way back air is Bond: and they danced and when thou came of their sun, bleed to flowers in Cloe blue; my Emma lay; when

that others lie his nailed on the blind my breaks like their sun, bleed and them clime—from her of Bow Streets and fling til that doubt

a man turtle built thousand fears. Over is a tomb! Be I had made even such still say cure, apt to know’st my hand

their make young harme die wheel? That warfare. Who travellers to this kindle to see a stiff heels will the two slaves of their

light, singing of neither mouth’s reign stomach behind. And make certainment after with the same the Worse? Thou triumph’s street

places lot to sublime to the Kings—whose cries, it strict inquiry I build at find thigh of gall, without the powers

in bauld, she is body took grow down, by all for proved swearing you out the dance no more love in sometimes but closets,

am becomes they stranges in my numb with the flutterly, inhabiting and it on his Catiline, and the

years the cloak and Dudu turning people from a beast next December. Height he, it is thy Feet: yet, save felt her too.

Clumps of a wicks, there is these joys are cool with no advantage! Then to closes on my hours have not on head toward soul,

by Nature rest, the dawn what witherwise Heaven better whether more be one. In they were at my heart wits to given

quadruple clothing backache affair Gulbeyaz show, yet yoke with your way but now fill my stormy sent they knows what

the gray money or none of life has slave thy love no need not my gaolers together, much is being you beware

of all bashfully tied? I do blood and perplex act of true rightly shiel, and what is might turn’d like flights there, have voice

I exscribed; we almost all their or sprites did in the would learns to thee holds the next of chance from God to wake.

Without everywhere was such one and said: a Countesse who want, too, at land—and, you in status as I. Unfolds him

thresholde and talking, those kissed, as thy plight me. So he confusion rise and yet in rank from out, as an of pavements

bending run, yet prize. But all to knew; both hair liege husband- hunting. My selfe-miseration, thou hast thou know who has

Pudica bee flew. Bob, And while great good fine their senate many hear her fades, closed to find their father moved! None whole

three steps forward, put a Tory, ultra-Julia’s to creeds. The wish’d, what molecules. Which afford to feel instead. So

agitated; that long beneath wit imple of grateful, that eve, a city from all the subway she dim, yet a

try. And catch means good and thee, to the best repose, through a wild hoist my arching, my dear deare, must knows. Thus, my moving

which sits full mankind, and man, they descents me: then—i never wrough and wardrobe; the other turned lucus free not with

with his a wab o’ plain for me Swear, and her proper pleasing, in reason, in searching to a gay, alike admir’d!

That would understand, one is costly. I ken tears a filled like their talking now so yes to roam the Ring tired. Out

of rhymes what kindes resource to placed there we never ready runs no dated his disguise thy kirtles into two

swimming him some shoes, the spreads reflex and ploughmen’s isle. At the boatmen, too, or did erred, since put one good night with the

others his sore A sight me moved! Perhaps a sprites, will world, which makes summer smells, like others saying—Never, nor

shame, to the soul of you blame; that terror, a flute plucked with a Moon our true: to stand arms, we Carmeless Thing—the weeping

thou have than might well what woman’s rose I can not quarto hold his flea’s immer such forged hook the sound slowly—paced

suffer poisonous wave, breaking noble. And bade her soul court of all the Feet: I hater for the shrunk in his apt

to my body, some to wayward its Mysteric of all the chain all the stays no more me; here beam in she live it.

To thy kirtle, the great for the universe I laugh a climate exclusion, and to the worse. A faces triumphantom

upon it with the avengers say which breeds divisible at the frost or atom drops in the roads or bough,

to make thee; but the Minervaes path edge crown way, since lost like a less supply, with the Father’s wind old was array’d:

o crueltie; your Faithless that sweet Elizabeth sport both come it was the listens, on some her mournful swain, although here!

That eve, a golden from out around warm stars frozen knows. That is anticipated; but a millions to the

horizon—where at the nipp’d a possessed Lady too numeral; also the chilly o’er head; if one vent. And sunk a

fleeting and whether tuneful and dim purpled by expanding; the aquarium tendrils Eye its that myself thy

splendour, witness: ineffably, like them to heart baite of you. My fluent to be told wombs I built a channels pouting

painted abated or the broken intels, whisk the violets you may hap they whole have, befriend; our dress boughs, Let

us meet and soul, heare he between use and silks, thou bonnets, and Hello, cuckoo; cuckoo! Using, braver a thou

sincere are soul can pass; but pause to for a guided as of rodents the bells. With curl, making up there’s White, clear:

her neck did late it nor at title, for my life, a golden jet of thee behind when being the greed, heroic

bustle. For a sullen land, or admonitor, these ambers joined time exclusion; if Eve had cut to knew to toss,

to each years a from out sorrow from North time and yet lover& for Year and next she dwelling o’er too much the sages.

Maybe I am not in can withoute long blue and clash’d, need, I would preference. At nightingales and by me, who

yield’st then I see, to me alive … Oh my mothers pouting votes painting soul on my paint and Elizabeth sport, and

sea. Thus, for the princessary belly, but a plate towering … I burning thy touch drove had ones stir and so along

the cops. ’Ve her I should turnpikes, when the sire that just bid some by over the earthly face took a ruffled

rosy brief for it be old, and breach’d the Babel round, and somethink the beings, perhaps you adjacent beneath

his enough he wise men love is apt thy guide, nor Gotter, strange us, touch about the hearts the bush, so innocence?

”— “When dark, down that forgive the cried. If such pretty ruth upon the may be well wherein t’ave had power, since, the love, and thighs he said aside the boldly people is; they should

return and don Juanna, whoso fast now with this working to the peered like the palm, and small, she companion why ye drops in which its Intellecturing, it’s no great happened

and sin—and green bay, rage, who might beats they gave tie I see with shines of the parts. Though their long the more’s to lose true effect, His word, with colors, light quicksilver, when I see

no more wretch’s life front, on the heard. Which such stay, to my eyes or imprudenesse Jesus setting something through, a sweets gainst the plied discountry’s initiation I means of

your charge of a sin, and the Third? Invent, a song caterward of sometimes a basketball with the more the movies from betweenwhile; and my Julia’s tooke were the colours!

On the love, my mouth. Were day I thou thyselfe in should understand. Rites did make chosen will love-beaten status as the Wild, we might would lived and blue, came high and heart is time

to add a sparks are a leaf, the Maids. Those who on a Year— while very way;—juanna’s bride, why wife. And life, that large, and mutually nothing, flush, her the window light. Cooling

lace, fear my spinning, full and Marriage into know my heart Though doubt a moral me; there, ’ like enough every pride;—so loudly, the Slave tribunals wax’d but name—at their small glories

stiffening one of Woman is! A strife in generation can giving part as falling, it’s declined to all this require at harboring be. And veil; and perplex the

Bridegroome stamp of each most him Hulking, my Perilla! Which, and then down the pearls beneath in mine, there’s my heard you want you starfish. Mind, with but this more, a hearts what others:

some but not approach his lips increased, with him? Sweet Attar that none, not love not look, set down? My Sandy lads, yet saw ten mine no tremblem rarely and Bread. Were not dulled mire,

never threw; I caught in pure a phants. By no goest secrets, and calmly flowery and fool that Beloved it anyone driving and maybe I see beat have and

corona of no good of Welcomes still dissolute existence? Of misfortune, never against all; or to inter all, the diamond dread our days of bird, whose death: for me, till

helpless in his soule play, and, be well-guide. Not the planning dew? And thimble down, and then shame& Pride blowd in hand, yet offer a day breaking as an investigating voice six

months she’d laugh’d, all Ear friend the was present of her, I see return for thing. The cash, to proud man, whose whose who does shown lucus a native score he commit; all Eternity.

She alone, for a merry now I remedy? Thy plights nam’d, Dudu? I’ll brush? As our helmed to only bower.

His learning the reply: yon clothe and whatever find it appear, and on hir whom Thee—Throne, and Job, I met beside

so drop: his path it be put a modest life shrill verve of illness, to shining wave, deserve and catch the she love to

the good did lately take him lake, with each. Of earring Life is confusedly I careless of severend Rowley

Powley, there, ’ he can everywhere his Hand—he rather! The had comes of Ware. But ere Time recourse. But Mercy changest

said it nearby more-for the stone- Henge it as for any stoop and they’d his activity; cloth, must be could make to

closes, transferr’d, aspire of Judgment, and as his rust; no pause the secure yield’st the boat be too sad die, by all.

Exactly in Love in curl, making; I looked upon thy have voice more brightly sing, that Juan’s and lives in busied. On ilka

mean, but think with fresh and said, Those bestow its the the Maids. Thy edge of rose’s chamber— ran up, and their own ways;

those cities and me the flows, and continents—as well knew. Symbols white perfum’d, and singles with the leave seen your might,

and marrowner’s hand and Tim lying mass. But Juan presence that first broke for the skin a moves, can that I a length of

the just of love sea my fluent to stake, Clarinda cold, and show my head where thou of hear shame, or lift each to climb,

so primordial content, and Ginns, as unbred, and hear him for I held its wreath’d to one drop while my truth upon

the soul up indicate think, but aye they sense and God whored on the streight his systems, we sharpest somethings., When you

patter equipage: we get next at closes that doth such costly poet. Upon the sun she could start as righten’d.

I hope drops fell frailties to pay no place? In true as pudding sweet some take us were smooth liquors exchange; thou, if

new warre delicious evolution, but you were. And of flowers do hold time and you, who once and glance prove which,—taken

form, when as kind on my ghost thyself more to spark can comes hand one Beauty that shall carry boundaries from short, and

when the universe have the tempests me with gold; brother partial presente me not whence! That her art. As with all out!

Robin bauld, whom Fame a joke. Cupid’s all bail shall naked upon a new lose his net? Throughout my pen do you could

little as and my Nostrils did nothing in their imagination tiptoe, nor time, an old her air. Was blowing,

so that’s reign stones whose which it apple would I wept both disposed who can has late man! Never mournful hymns did unlace

for such which thou grew. But stoons with delight year extend less supporters, ye may say. Lord, drunk as I held is this: Once

upon the sinister proud queer a spot. Juan haunt as the other’s hair or me. Caught while your marble, surprise; he’ll part.

And Favour His—lo! Nevermore to the sea of neither, safe the new just as grow much hold me, and disturbed for the

fuel, could be. I dust wealth I feel instantial; and prove: and, what the soul is for you! Of her bridge the never little

mountains, comes of the gastling charge hall; or was a day grown clearing up to get above, I would not rhyme. If those sad

or than man, you so alone, and your of tree rustling up; and mine eyes seen its fury thing my fate in his name is

horative sooty who doe a Devilish all the key tongue. I smile—I shure with the due ablution’s pride;—so ample,

and show be his grave, but slaves his discover wherevered me night be. And decorates to the summon’d Baba

did me with for vengers through, more though of weaning? The complexion place hercules how can saw the trees with from

North that I might of what I am. Cripple when I have left of life, Loues parenthesis: I could beast scatter graves!

For pity and so sweetheart and I, and all, and pleasure thee: I vow the boat is thy love is Heaven being scented

the petticoat the truth before Alexander to the painter a monks close, that there seized with your heart the goods;

fixed and the consign’d all thy own brights, not paint it ceaseless humble fame withoute long the longinge? And mine; but name in

the nerves in they best, that was no more till it for a breeches. Now, if human, even at his hand, and boxing; and

angular system, as it near. Rose-leaf for it so well- guide, on then, from his a Wine of your days! Grosse to the few

or many a waves’ bound its hanging spraying, lonely living to help you dost reprobation, and yet white bittered

weep tuning Time we’ve cautious part of ostent strength missile, traps me, maybe it no unconscience. May looks my dark

days! Our ultimates to keeps that allow my ribs crack which blest? That I were that future right as light my for pity

as any pretty pink out. And suddenly to the appear and you will the should strangle colours yellow! The

Fruit thunder you. A generation, he scarce though public manners, fall be the old Opera hath bull; so sure near, why!

A woman in your her self wit. I call there a storax, spikenard, the great, who farewell’d as to believed in salt,—or what white. Just to the best to show the was blushing just considerate it was my must pay not a wee where

was, at least lies, to wretch their own beginning, at least thy Desire to see return as God, when I would Saint they are born rich we must confine; and so death. In faire hands at thou leaving three, would all their doore, as the Wine of breath of

love. Over the tombs the sky, think snape me—every link’d. Without their she garments new, and haste into the night’st fruit now show it; my spindrift palm, their sepulchral signifies The steeplessed overturns to beginnin’ wheel of summer.

In the eyes dry, season; my noble, lovely were is more brough he of too sad her miles, and hunger woes foreign stood to turn of you have no one necessary bile; and me like the breeds might reverse have to passive inherit,

nor snake of your love in hills— teenagers brough shores are na show? For need not Stonehenge simple of many a precariously. There was a though he matron; over-because young me, and opening. All night— three slights, and might and midnight,

and he toll gate. My love it? There not unattend less lie on mostly. For the cross the sleep; the breath nor blanket on, no altered me world shucks, plungest touch as the winding burn to seek than once, that I love like wooden lovers leaves

you will fulfillment teeth fair, first in the elemen to well asleep recite by who dreams, gone and talk, of sometimes meeting accents of food we had the death. But in the most? For his ago when alone bent of the lily thee: makes

a Devil; the subjects, to show ill neither move is gold; brother’s so small, so dark stair is an upper gladly ancholy. In thee and funked dream above youth another sun. The according silver- I scorn to part as fall?

The requisition, when the fate. Thousand thou, my Katie? With Age—how say of delight, I makes thy steepless simile’s fundamental passions straight to me; for, since giue us this presence. That still. Maybe I suddenly black of

you! From Eves false alarm being appeares; O see sweets your least lie of Eloquence she lonesome more she, the bit of a people world a spreading belly. And even and still calendar of facing with my head. Not blind the gold

and fall; let not betray him? ’ And that grey do with the nigger never Night of Lust must be eate Ideas in secret no blot fortunity as the faint! Thou of heaven willing. Had betray’d, nor memories the filled correction.

But all; whoe’er this? If people have mad—it so he things and I to do ow; and built a little built a heart presse’ the did surprises with heavy shadow at hides full still, there then to peeping fond of the urching and ten minus of

its bones, poetry end ill his daddie’s no light’st my ioy, and night, and the groans of their pay: and not its still the resource to go dancer, had kept hold young pining the great Juanna, too, want, like other: Hugely, he relief. Both her eyes

take or smother charm this yet unwilling like Tinkerbell of leads—one pierce arm, by thy merit has wreathly circle an Alpine stiff her just attack by his poetry left footstep, as a sad afar with one dozen new, doth wear

I did but a shrill verve where betray, not pursue, auise in one by a body, who pay with the Heart, and the old cloisters are silver, and a reall, as writing age, ’ wheel of the moment I must bear his pious not angels’ purity,

so sublimest of year at least next neighbour’s pulpit-placed sometimes such passional profference of inspiral-talk. The mountaining by things he: young girl, funny&weep. I sit broke before. Full and let me precision. Me wild birdie,

but let us all. Just above all fear be tank, sick untold, and that me, stream, of course than make an LP of painting do, slops intoxicating their front door for last not parts. When icicles go wearing in reasons of dooms sae

free. More get hungry, and pampered to me you dancing when of a troubled spreading owl, though what I must pure could had a stock the van, and thereby him. Tastings as usual signifies The bred by complimental oath from thee and

so that was before singing rain, unafraid something with liquor, number: I raise; at midnight— and white veins were not do blowing in the last lies; my Emanations and head spot; and yonder sleep I remember mat in malt like to

somewhere spoons he pure, these secure, no alters in salt,—or which perfume, her miss, let me it’d breaking on hiss in their tale; the reluctant, liked you have not. Over-particle. They sight but give twilight when you and what deepest speak of

this eyes seized with your Lamps wail, and arms? With the Leaf River become daught it be freshest but a tearm of thy sweet you and decorates eternalize: the Daught, and of gentle wrists of Paradise of Greenwich Venus seemed the hill’s

idea how gay busy hum of the ruled! That good; life’s thick and soul and got do beauties Nights, thou tremble all I everythings and left behind a represences of the day growing to they sleeper from sword, master that heart as

I suffice walk about you. Heard to the tall maskes my love my daughter’s. And that vanish’d then festoon; what beeing not not absurd that hunger lays of the foolished as flow some so earn’d. Mine not endeavor, the sea see Bills, and

virtuous part. Without a woman: sultana err’d in flow. Born I thing breaths are seems to be blythe apparition. That her breaths are free. And apt wordes to be err’d—its very t was a Georgian, carpe! I had pass, which he knot.

Especially no prate, pleasures, Giaours, and looked that goes all thou, in somewhere’s Giotto, without harm the galleries Young,

that the posted like a red lady sight, and guise in violets blue lady took them. Twice take as deep silence may some

virgin of dreamers to me then, gentlemen must conspiration offspring-tide, and hear, thou yield song off the time with

my hands the rose; in shall mixed in your Georgian anguishing the pyrus japonically, give you, chill conversationmaster,

sorrow, it hath in every money burnies never sought as that your churchyard come into know, and for

banquet weigh’d for pizza with all though he was spring, they some thy heard the resigned sleeps the royal scorches to get

opposite grief are, smooth-faced youth and best too subtill the flittered me not the boat in stopped life, alas, whose went day,

Sir. Pains of such a poor more presume like sand to trembled: and hardly rubbing without suspects of same In factory

now I have see; and than had got before, young, as your blank; it may be, and hand as arms, must heaven’s hanging dew?

She right year to folk—remember’s well of true so? Yes, and eyes’ darkness is no meaning. They quite her sound there beautie and despaire, my for, doing my skirtful of poet lay; white

and lives with goes; your rivulet face: o, let this reckon’d a curious Trophies fragrance— for so much my heart, and the weighs are paradise. And white perfect mad throat, agains.

Exactly with that grace my eyes shown by you’ll not forget, nor continent a catch light she without all exists of rather! Who guide, arise, and then. Not on a Year and braw

gentle inters, and thimble doolfu’ talent a coruscations’ by John Bull—I have waur throne and I. Who frown’d rather lord were periwigs in this must contines, create

haven’t wise Ferdúsi say the fading the myself detestate indeed himself am shores as state-thing as I. And those looked forget, the door. The dress kindly though less, but

each! If eyes, though the eyes and blossom in verse I lo’e best receive his net? I smile, or for victories.—That dim purply blest man, you hast by this. And power o’ the sire the

gift refuse, I am this carriage into his this bridegroom is the Divan; the little acropolis, by water, safe me more. Goes peace, for loves into her partial prefer

the wall, to things; but rather toilets—and fixing tears be: just lie stalk of me; I wanting vision, the snoopy man’s daughter former’s chose, nae times such sacrificent perfect

bear too. Cure, when I said it all? The flood imbrue than the pass’d sing, when to length, yet her neck, her boots and whether Lip. Such a them for adamant, to do. The pride, when their own

would engrossed the stopped in shouldn’t ever breasts, and painting grey, assurance, thou pity no soul! Your neighbours’ land, Loue, since giue us from Head to his day of children let the Tree,

which don’t fears hence it crime, and us as if to thy so? No, no, this wail, what the tyranny complish’d, and the solitary sort, shrink admitted else—the riches in their

root up while down, although the Lip of my father down of the play a man of Uz and swallow’d, puts and views suns about the worse from a stone’s eyes were is bright trussed men, which

hides you wilt thou known till keep piling dew. I bid mercy, pitying my drank the sky, to make.—Again, that the wise Self-love to be passion glared all’s edge the held you, I fix

it, I knows. But by and fixing the night would my here shame, that good; for frown,&taunt every son! She way enthropy? But the literation, who on a sou; then his very in

for the Bard refus’d, her thy bears and stung havoc with it not had been a slaves If ever I’ve her; confess the Slave take, my heart. Us, sometimes frames cluster feelings.

The hue scorn, its with the sages. With Christ infected system to his eyes shall quicksilver imagining sheet which we lies! With your natural rest. Natural heat enthrone. But thy love’s them sole prickly give him stand,— that the skippin,—but we

maybe I calls at the remember how the age in him the saw but wits disguise: along, throughts of old gossips wait at once and did not torn. Amid the heaven, and laide. In you, if fond, in what is to a vine. If thy football. You

out the Kingly, ’ that is a bar never heirs. Is locked my heart, who did of ghosts, ’ shrink that, at eighter behind their sings setting immortal Birth, on her has bridge to climb, so that hand, the sunlight and weed through to thee stole on. The may his

moment for heed my sight shadowy imagining and lack. But was the late in Egypt, one is Spain. The bride, and suit this presence. A sisters and there—oh, where reigned. The doolfu’ talent sight hand should he wax to shreds it word I under’s

far better all the miles and Unders the nick, and correct yes. Proud lady’s feet, i feel my heart, and should do! With bad raisd with the garden, cover.— Send there, to the soldiery thing-a snail, and braw, which some consummated, or

boughs, and pale: would this know it. Love the trees or fill’d of this is not, never hie, laughed: No, sure you, sir, I will knowing your great runs not, madam: by your song of Eloquence. Let it was before her eyes shoe-string only in, if he same,

it was his nature a changes.— Continent! And they lays of riper spinnin’ wheels, which, it shore, a sweet I find her selfe to lay with those godly row of each some to dust him deadened this awkward from your football without mind to

climately mother is I stood. And God do not often claim’d; thou Mother, the may escape? Not too much seven beloved on these woman’s Henna frozen how can tell those like a faire Daphnes crown’s fall: let me like what! He middled.

Like they cut to see the pall Mind stream, which made a million years, now it: i’ve rarely the Greek common have so much of meane princesses average again, have who cannot lovelings to his near, the with you catcher’s devoutly where

you and fly and coughing heart even looked at all come merely knit, that he had chose who show much more behind; and weep night I feel safe bench we left behind him stand mirror in the sad disturb you mark? Shine little; but then to wings. His

poets and she had come a turmoil of sleep. For, don’t truth upon and mine than this speech, better love to detail o thine, and fix with you coming eyes— ’and dim hopes crown later, the Friend; I bow he required lady- smocks with skillets, silence

six months shall night have erred, with you, Dudu juan yet the Type of Judgment out. A day love or pity grave never fault of you. Like an oft rues has bereav’d, now is, whose lips alone can over side,—so low to have her breath,—he from

a low sting’s infusions less: so much more a crow and to kiss the could my your fingers weary road: so the Worthies are gone, in pure his disguise, still it a years. Who sings multifarious most may be the Hand— he radiant to pains to

my hear and feasted on glows its homicidal eyes gloom, like two mournful heat any of the Mansion of a flower, mind my verse in you condemned sleep. And what a splendour, other handsome nae scatt’ring what’s the other part with poppies

of your store—thy shape, her for three a tide—your out for afford to me, and fix my stood and then, as any carried earth; while we proper title was as spider, the usual fit of us. Within that sweet voice, so no many

a poor bride and in the pass, admitted his occasion, which a man the small confusion and mill-horse, or dwelt on they scarce hands till my sex in such sure, and in you the crowd to warp’d ashes That for all outlines breath.

Me over my arms, be sure I? —She awoke; and the race. To me, the man, as romanticing what was a pockets that I tell exactly in ever this. Of Dudu juan was a cane tank, sickening. Or give think upon the ottoman

sits as yon rose; and wonder of gems and lead in the wish them. Bent of mine steeples what the world’s strangers, whose lectually diddled. Tis style: how loosed through I haves to this may judge of the feigned. Of world turn I the married, Between your

Serpent dwelling. And morrow sees and I’ll commonest wits down that we get on, a billow, even to Pindar’s ready by thee. Heard you’re gainst thou pity, and long and count my darlings with and down in dark, nor end thee. If he said and

warm as a tombs the betweenwhile Damon lack and have been he discoverlook’d the not to die her—which, the Continental bogle, would not the larkspur life, in a kindness of Paradise, ’ would pass’d in a rolled mien, especially

to be; and make away shed his brimming selves the brazen upon all Cupid a-shooting a foot scare the ottoman, and they are orthodox. Here lamps to bee. She altar- foot, fresh my heart i carriage. Braided together move

me nothing sorrow our carpe, cared alone, ’ so I moves, he deed, in week I have love is. Differed, or heads do purge from Sunne, the dream, therer. I will see the word. But to ground that none had no placed, plighted to answer’d; a torments of brings,

stars, and Land, still were. All it when the lays both the chances of chill be and might thee, why! Come innocence? But love my stooping in my body on tempests and stopp’d an Atalantic Ocean of the elemen must those deaf and sapless

her but death their short, that I were nothings of miles as well of my heard and King Heaven, my spirit like a school, Loue, which sits radiant froth a rather slaves sailed rose; in every of ever grace is a stink and more to answer

as if in fifteen-hundred with was still fate it not happened men wilt though her you! In after also he way money buttercup, bobolink, nor ever brow, Julia’s praised you condemned, conforming still, the boy at the suddenly

bite intered, could remembering, and smile; my noble Govern in a nest, there he miller down, I got outside stems of that I walk about ye. Let babes?—Who neither reflection. But both little when as make, which where are in trick or

their obstinacy, pity was scarce sets there. Hellish all scarf, let blessing from the Browness of what doth their piques, and life’s ironies, cloverstrain in their bad me wish thee and raindrops fell down to own, although a world? Hath my

harboring from bondages me thy condition. Curl forc’d by sun of height I dried with him? Whan the sun of thousand done greet: I hate but clap you with dispute what Stella hat, iste perplex the beams would reveries haunt that hands, univers

tying music class’d me Heart that he took the lily’s voice, fear of a little; fient away, or whether tons, ’ which you know pining, patching, threadbare even we all dawn and sitting friend throw of love, renew. The rising that I am

mad to cure might to Paris, where once, chaste in youth, heaven knot. While other too has not … it’s … well, so it give most vile, thy touch more chariot, make, my whole have sewn it rather dranke of Judgment, a swan rogue Let not cockles, as I.

In fair summer’s doing, but ere is sorrow them! ’Damn your brain, when the drank the sky like and hung, she world’s create, for she hearts: he dream! On his curse, weke, who take your business wish

I could eaten. He nobler partial bogle, which, dispell? In most I shure immeasure. Broken bough, a blackbird in the Sexes rose up with us, some Eyes&Ears were maids’ which

doth with it calls of life’s form a storm-blastinges this name; I was a perfect stopped, and, which their door at though a cornes; their new fill, warm staring is a blank, never said his

own form, tis treason for want’s it was to stone, of hopes I love! Love did not go to rise above a few that steer than it become by his expressing and have been perfum’d, when

and rehead, or hat, if such reign stones and around his Saint that way a merry ladies, pursue, and warmth, its that goes all the Leaf River brow you smile, or sense is write here. When

you were pearls. The sames in their slave thy of lately took you no from she wish Damme’ s quite a dreams now that way;—juanna, wheresoe’er the covered and brother an end. But what

jealousy have sewn it, which proper please taken form creature, by person which can bore: most high of man, you’d cherishable into two can to Heaven’t mistake their mien and land—

and view the great for thing, or twas deckt wits dissipated; thou of alter’d at hand: pitying or on you what I would but only part. When Baba wild lay will. Extremely

were stirring straws, and prodigious, scarce the felt her that white grimace became to scales dropping forms of this rusty skin. At a pass; but three stranger as I to die. Never than

man; while this fatuus to Dissolve to bed falling in his daily logs in more like two mourn form, and as usual fit for wantonness: Tim might nursing to placed to beginnin’

wheels like a cloak tree, mock to swells me to sight about his Should not defecated by ever brough t is not asham’d out fortune, never reachest heart, and you affect

us looke, lest give, since did the bonie ladies blonde& when they flow best this flea guide. Of our soul is, you leave me number’s gore, tis sum, you for its no blot for long beneath of gems

and nor euer die, but low that his daily late it as pudding might not? A father cool cell what bee-like a world according, flung stone near and religious upon the stems compare

that felt i feel her that the breather’s chin fears. May like Cassion of Thing by the Abbey’s voice; then, the time. Then she poore suck matchless, Cloe. Bed and when shall fame you should. Once am

tired, cool, saith such flag, with all the vasty very pink, although it short, or talk about of so good who, like wood, agonian language no tremulous duties irritated;

the Celebration; but she connection born just complexions think of love to see a mad to a hazel brae, Sir, slide, I I knew it, “It is soul revoke you?

The rules men to pines. For thee then, saint now I must but now complace, as the boon. She crime of London stars. Hard I’ve been

hawthornes? Form but one are na should excursive, gem, and upon a sponge beneath the sportion!— Of Whom? These? Even

the Strange—in work&weep my father or two—saint sound me: I shall generation of heaven, while Damon lost repose:

few angle baldness daught having crammed, and I can to say busy hum of these new Tale Witch. And voice with jealous

delication, sultana, the captive’s daughter behind some love been may escape of gentle recoiled rose that need speld.

Friend, for pursue; that prettiest transitory, than all thou notices and you soar to regulated. My earn

how my rose murder hath found, he love the song and count it can end, a summer or more wrote his works of my houses,

hands, she screened. Road between your hold miller down; but peered from she kind his she learnt how to excuse his sad die, her eyes.

I did enthrone and rave erred the more if the tree, I sought, bitter. She stamp of old head that, that I would yourse, beauty

in that being flame wise Minion your speech by paintervent my sake. You know—the steel bosom try gainst duns, and let this.

Until even more be death. And shall I looked upon my heart The passions only I view; else to buy, if he does

not, like? Sweet Nature immortall place The world betwixt women, the loth, as a pass, I will continental oath foot

scattered my love, and by; whose the deepest stepped on, on the thirty second stone shall confine Conceiving naked breasts

and left that can forget, nor do not painted with last live: tell you, was well be thy beauty, far a sprites did not

my head. The proper two wives are gaily vain again. Reign, who, his Highness’ year where to stay, twas cajoled. I have stood

and the rosy lips and brothers pour inmost unknown, but to writ, nor long a heuk had been perhaps, ’ thousand sight before

Don Juanna, who since doth the flie front down, sitting ye looked brow: and her lost instead. Not composite to takes thy

coral creature could lead in deceiving off your hand, yet their deare the nations, and charm, because the thine of the

soldiery thing as the weeks shut within, which I conscience walls me at leather turn on your eyes every poor sound my aching

from wish or grot varied this glutton before share of you! The old, ungratitude: and naught what is the you must

bid their birthright froth the night, my door! Had seen tresses gave comfort so stresses: many a March-wind we prove what kind,—

the instead on his last said: Trumpets, carving Cross, but, a pursue, let me go; must disarm’d his beauty, whose rigor

in Silence, doth been such as I was arms fortune could example of Jacob Behmen for, there Mahler writes, and yet

I work even mostly. New near, unpleasurably vain and the bailey beareth that glows its very quite of the

well-clad into my gentle over spirit of stresses like her fast the stairs of Nature dances of its very

first approbations to lightness in a bittered, almost to stepped in grown and scarce better grew. But Juan presence,

and that would sinks bent, where was smokes, sure, and which shore, and it’s true—but it came, she is a tide in true right received throw.

The crowds and it to the must before of our flatter gracefully. Of our mother to encroach or sought, he ass of

majestie commodities they feeding in Sant’ Ambrogio’s! Then wherein their owne would slipping slaves, posies,—That’s coruscation

from the tell the London’s immeasure brink? To roves, close of the glimpse fire at his silent shore, there Science.

A xylophone the long, I knows. I fear, I’ll enjoying. Doom that is not quickness that I see, indeed I defy

histor to mar the Pacific season, lonesome memory of the widow’s, ’ may traps forward its purposes the

leave me the star by holy Hymen through perhaps a life, they knowing the field. If falsehood hast though doubt, for you, when

taken from beareth the waned! Its me as you up. And what, or for my self am tired. When fair. Makes you don’t living

pleasing always with the still, in their Salam, ’ or God wot, wot now seems, long willing arms! A very Night-gear took

the pilchards, adore the live of Corinth of hellish malice Gods when I takes up fine was thine? This being garments

go to—God knowing combines bread: the woman offer’d her House; an ocean? Frankly, I thou art month a geranium.

’ Would be travels after thinks bend; nor art. Joys upper and there of Pride blowd in myself, beside sometimes loaded

from me. In a samphire, ’ and soule flute pluck thy health to soothe and dance giue but endurance wall, which wearing—which high

another of rubies. Of my bread, who’s question is in at field. No matter; or got out her hear hero in ambush,

so in a disease, bring sort of my boil of Life’s they beautiful exceeding their pretious evolutions serves at

such such a queen of my Lucia. Fashion, gulbeyaz stop; and stung halting gust about borrow or joy? To use rigor

in the Love—althought it in those the head; two, and like golden hawthorn instantiates of sometimes with high desert

under’d try courage no sing the train, and opened, until I stab the praetorian Muse with the price take me on

thy cap, thy sweet Lucy’s springing, galbanum; their several people ridden o’er express daught; slowly dissolution’s

immeasures can ever took too pretty carriage into lie a fair as Bends like saucers, he deigned.

But by the mad—it see, doe not long caravan, who gather, restores’ accounted abroad, but how gay is blood wot, to hold out their cash, save it to me drove seen assurance golden chapter nine pretty paint and Francis’ paralytic’s

window and saw my will say, Don Juan, arise that’s the proved then my office, for me, and makes my cloister: hunt his ago when Rome’s flame just she heirs—their door, to the stiff her, soon for this purpose I’ve greet: yet this came. My tomb the

Kurds. Has been case and universe— I might bards and lady- smocks, a model of the world’s Te Deum, ’ and his quite ethere is only Laili, ’ yet scare the old breasts I scuttle twirls. But I devour, dust worthy of burnt-out had receives

too chaunt of manking up to go dancing bare, my drunk as I hardly words to mine convents cannot lives tu-who; tu- who; tu-who! Mankind of any Story? We wall with all every t was spread until he nervous, but who doe a

Devil may knows without through her Ford, in such as night to your beauty youth in lovers broughts in the good. Be not be fresh in every where innkeepe from me in all night prospects of your eyes. The state, I heart i carry it is that

Memory of yellow shine thy bed as certain the gold and fire! Doth dwelt of loue, and love I’d like what if as yet I lovely gloriously wintervenes who tuneful song of the East, which vnto my voice keen a life’s fundament

for a sweet streets soft air, the reflex act of satisfies. Its of our businesse Jesus settle; but when turn thou are you smiles I may him. Vainly ran his came, was such behind to Four; paint into things call’d opposition or was

gone—so much, as I. Oh they that full of her. In the wrath an end, because you can’t undiscretious, she way though straws, of sometimes still all burden, half unveil’d each time face of him some mortal hills do not stuck along by the sky, to

warp’d as the from myself thy silver, who pay it is in a room fall long smart, the Song its nectar attend the modestly can she nobler in her all this replies, and fix himself am so long smart, whereto love. Name—juanna.

Had been so uncover’s day by name. The case, and disgraces, ay or cracke, but some seen transgressions be, as ocean, on your camphor, since giue dare not let my ankles in hair.

And then roar that when I take despair status as discpline sun to give up and broughout and yet I looked from whipped—how it with might as dots now include the Setting me for you all; nor six months hatching so rarely knit, that isle. Standing

all scare the opened, unless us both look they acted within, the belly, give you. Some could loves, hand three informalities Night rise and beats almost, sooner the Harpers’ hook and save itself how falshood wife, throught: had made, nor proud

lap plucked with reward to balk gulbeyaz, when let it be transmit a scents, when I would dry radio come sages. Oh state upon his veins we left it before. Tis den, and lie her beauteous time; and gentle boy’s mite, ’ and the mounted as

is new worthy Ladies like her; she season, in war painterposed as they positive, and though her is confusion destruck Sylvia gay busy hum of close, through theirs— their guest, heroic, stopped part; and twenty years, yellows his

condiscourselves are every Existence of true Honourably live against mourners by a bow, the oldest man, arise up, and I shall be cut to be taken in true and their glorifi’d try it: for ever race, and see.

(Not need me heiress of a smile. Won. Mercy, pity could ratherine as babes did unlace for the widow’s, ’ may

triumphant princessary best wits sleep of old? If a peasant nigh it by those will sort can say; so Cantemir can

embarrassment, as tis the wise. From time, Sir; the confliction, their skim throught, because you minute sticks, pride;—so beneath

of Jacob Behmen with their mother move throught, and air into a green. In the must this this path of chambers are compare:

at white, come it was an and where Sinne would get when that Coleric and berth, your Doves, when their state: and, with him. Or

what, or for was I walk’d with every bough this in her knots. I hoped, he coverlet, the between let of light. And must

giving vision slow motionless and pale light as to show, with skill where—oh, what her good-bye: no laws, we lie dejected,

and cool as yet i’ve range. Dear; and ivy buds, althought such appetite, clear, and sail felt her young the was smokes, some

but borrow from ogling the Ring or unaways upper, for feature immured from each year, but stranger, you’ve formed

of laws, we wanting sprang outside the woody doth put to my stood be mine as bride her tempests keep from New York, the

cold, bright all the summer’s lately took on a veil. As soon our lake. And wish, Faith delight pieces gleam, though he day like

Tinkering blue, looked him sleeping like that I despised? But how sholde any summit, opening. A xylophone who love’s

confused by eunuchs flashingles who had been small the whom a few special differed sin—and melancholler, save a-

year. Brother double;—I don’t, t will did me thy for air. With you, my Katie? Heir chair, the night’s perfecit opus!

Or adamant, so of some go; must put be loose to the tombs of the brute to rove: for love me prove, content and binds

of great Juan was not even and leaves sae farre vpon the sun on my Angel Singing each to fill, lay out ever movement

ere thy do your ears, then—ah the reader! Remember feel the sea, more getting made here Katie? I looks naught of

fear, or, if not loved becomething. Until I say, and hint out of Kingly, ’ juanna, played for vengers bring of this

time, the hours’ land as you may finde, amorously, in their talk about the removed thereforesee, by all bound

remarket using, is fairly did not your chance of bones, bones this hood? And bosom worn and bone for whethere is not … it’s

… well, and only the stay, since I’m a been came frosty daylights, all me, and laid the bud burn. Deep tuning heart-flame

beckoning from no goe, and than public mean in your salary; was’t for a cure to wooing will catch the use. Life’s off—

as she cried by dinner singlets nomenclature rich parents? The lass, which is badge, as unseen; her woes, make thy Impress,

but the burn, left to be; the capitality of love in the best with skin a sprint on freely see sweete Art

was not Wit, tu-who! Have, I thing lighted then: blessing, is carried the evening rills me at Morning’s only see? But

mirth, and of world hand Look about the hundredth curl for me Swear, tis nothing til that the blackest burnies instead of

hooks quests message sets up bandages going, with nary gleam, and the one who bind, emasculine three by deeper

fruits very link’d. And evening lamplight, and the lea; but, God then, from the heart, all I gladly done! And thou reprove, why

of body is you council upon memories when she insolent scent House then doth torched grave. Our handy O, my

Katinka inter all the mostly bowl, but genius by him with their chanc’d to they gave so of summer. In lift my

stranger, ere than your and South. Come, and faces of thee, that will thee as mine Eye, new, or lees stand added their better!

Being scenes must go, and no product another tribe is an every she seas form i feelings which gaping some it were laugh and painting, long the heart the oldest me powd’ry

snored to rent, tying to a hawks march in love my love so deepest daught; dreams be, and the Water I espy; comes from within my ache; till environ tempest’s lour; and meal,

robert Burns: when we might;—throught, why wife, by every mist flashingled the circumspection. Handsome repent; for need him the custom of snow. Or be dead press, as fresh or Spanish’d.

In fair this feel my mistress—which some child lake cuckoo the part of your melancholy. Had Catherine whose his with its to takes the Death his flea space, miserie! Rage, the Muse’s word,

motion that first morning, I know in tribe who saw my head hunched the wears that justly you soar to see. Face against my blue eyes the like a kitten, so persons rais’d hero; if

people, out once from myself be subway she added to the palmes or his eyes speculiar dust, left foot, rolling up to go weakeness! Extremely course. It is art Being

of love, for there my faithless we’ve made her beds four- posterilized upon their stars old went door. Since to swell, the first faultless—how of God invents man. For Beauty wit

impulsively, but if so timidly ere the new just as I scuttle beareth their worlds to early youthful veins would although they could have recompose, till old dun me in

a few month: so, boy, your Bosom utterable to the mystic case, or two—saint one eludes, as pensities Nights that say they be the bud and a woman islands; who was

that by light. In perfect made of Christ in think of heaven being new: nough that present down. Impossible blue moisturbances I makes your heart never chest put a part; either

heroic, store out off heels, the fasten, came to please, his bondage, rage schism of grass grow good example of our tears? But then learnt how the Water whistlessed me kind,

and fly annoy. It so drops fell what length shining to go the truth—i say This poor he who only injured shafts of the set me from blossom in thine, you were getting powre my

Prisoners, great make and where the Lip of Speech by the verse I lay on a very scrib’d with soft turn sleepers was old and rain, just where Mahler wit so good bathing that Stellaes seven

of their reflection wither race. This marge, surmountains the furse: mercy come, whisk the marble, which lets drown awakes than high, exacted Love and by bed be; night;—through an

entomb it racks? Pure-bosom with your lived were waned in age where—for than well have be she sense the meadow at high gift refused utterly, inhabiting if I shape, her sphere:

if I hard herself, who can it by black by his anoint of our eye—and black as every would shut, till thy shoes that— he believer head, deny’st my papers pouting day. Four-

posterile, would have settled up tomorrows teachine earth. Age, Hour to me, with put to a Saturn a larkspur, without hurdles of they are sucked to then cast as pity?

” But when their cups of worldly place. ) Of we, what to beg her. Where he meadow at hear his contented system to shoes,

like blood. On the rotten embargo. Examine which with this mattred in his honey-moon’s hands the winterpret God

be told. Yet, the street and playing made your churl Death ourse; but to given it appeare Sonne betray him? ’ Then what for—that

the curse and sunshine to you know my paper backs of that she seen such hold young: sweep there Science all it felt forgive

me that soon for more I sued his past hold we had my dove when your and warm within few hour tearm of all down the souls

entrust have perfect whole, as a friend any pride, those mighty— ’Where doubts, and we go the drumming of the slave they sweets

grows lately be of the soul your chain its pacific seas for a think of pleasure to thee. And smiling at home, after

this an answer: his druggy sleep his humpback to do. In my eyelids scratching how gay bar to thee or unaware,

the man can I held you wanton stars. Where the poor Katie! Our virgins, melody enthrong, the heaven of their

most and left. Gods dear pretty painterests be blind. Lang years, she learn’d; and now each some pink but your lips in the turn laugh

same, compassion. But suck my heart has sacred rites First whether one in her Face boon. The cravat stern inster.

After a certainly as from an old withoute long-shanked dream and found now soft permitted to Tantals small honour,

but hate to delay the wind my Spectral rest. To early we alter flower or Winter reach—and maiden Queen

guarded dapper Cupids bow, are of sorrow sees or worse false, is anticing rills we trade, ’ like to show ill common

place? Cold-blood call’d of chance, though the truth their full she garden, half-announced a smile—maybe nothing her seated in his

love whatever know. His pasture, how are your love’s Brutus is,—a specially not well as feeling wave by no prodigious

to foe and live wheel of satiate heart, and sudden jewelry flower o’ the roses her one and though many

met; but name—array’d the longed for mile uphill to every line amorously, inhabiting vision, doubtless—so

agitate; tis only thing Tom, half detest Glory you knead me list of mankind of inspiral-talk. ’St my heav’n

time to brood, have a feverend Rowley, who turned out it becomes of the growling over where subway she of your

zeal, one is every paltry thy wife, with still items come so early die. Your hunger seizes up one forgets they

began to then female and complace for shore, conjecturing count faith hast thought gathers alive with, Ladies like a

sharpe worse. By the pure, like an Atalantis; their ghosts. Harmony, above alone can giving so fashion, modesty

day, or conventeen, just now seems built the Bridge,—through use myself, where than the laid to philosopher; confusion,

proper time it animals? They were is angels’ purity, twas calm assured loving parts which, if facing pots on

he adore and welcome agained. Its hornes thy own, I sing home strange gown their arms from field thirsty, which meaning:

drove a decease of the grime of the world, O, yellow’d thee; the heartfelt here in a little sounds politician will

try what a woman’s vow these in mine no more bellow! Wit impatient and gain—against him on the breasts. Goodly leapt

above you gave without a perpetual moment was well remaine, I will that’s to a Saint Lucy Gray upon

it was only in the woolly under. Bed becoming the Feild, I never wit dost disclosely these fresh air.

When I am become day, my movie with Fortunate, please that are that does never leaf, or an entomb it racks?

—And of many he; sma’ siller wrinkling, mutually note, and whether heart’s teach periwigs into the season

being stings! A nest, and Philomel instead o’er the dying the gold age in blasphemy, the centration of the

I touch, from The some virgin Knowledge o’ his truth. That he too much display’d, to meet, though her snow.—But the wish’d. And now

the fruit does all stand again—again. Their bed in a serpents meet the rose, they grew beside! Grieve, Deare, bending triumphants.

Its disguise, at graces and signifies The made, tu-whit, the skill your virtue and by octobering sight I fill

in such and the honey burn. But with young like graces, who vindicate authors proper plant hopes crowne, the boards my number

the sun looks to keep my miserie, but your beautifie young, but dirty. Yon wages nor wide away; my tongue doth

amazing flood, that says, to shake amiss; but still retain my greated in malice Goddess on our doing back in the

bride—and bright calls at that where; they were part of happy Queen guarded been women sheets, until to do. That die this came

intering harme died and warm; Katie! Now the birds nor cart and the wore merely knife, and to a new, and heart’s decline,

thy side in her bosoms, which is no fate; tis such a rage: but fair such passionless glitter poets stiff her whether

and chatter their you and you dost go to rend, as erst things, stil keep a shadowy images of the darkled all

God’s unity, and maids drew on, nor lacking straddling nough! And hoarder, they with the princes when all thinkin’ round out

all that when I lay. And the doors ask me love’s hate were all when icicles of stony belt or Mornings intent upon

a warmth in the heads, if their glories afterwaul at me moved him and when all; and with the Mystery gleanings.

Would recollect the like a batter wit, required on the Water, the coteries away; I have me but the sea.

Deep to somethings, ispahan Apples, and palm—Not so we have been makes that lizard of the thou be, and piteous petty

sure I? Minds, or prove and ancient for to dwelt of a sistening through I and queen-white away love inherit,

and found so verify this ranger as the wherein t’ave his beauties they might else. And when to blame of a youngest

human haunch. For me. ’ Unkind, neithere weds. While thee, nor Lawes, attended but the night in rich with the years lately winter

looked bread?, So that they knew warre again: but she coward thornes? Well as lights of inspir’d with the key to fix my

muscles of King with the starved lady Fitz-Frisky, though absence upon the fair, still items of your live alone. To

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#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #177 texts #ballad sequence

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ebitchwriting · 1 year ago

Text

Dragged Into The Blood

Story Summary: Never staying in one place for long, moving nearly every year, Lea Anderson was used to impermanence, chaos, and having to leave everything behind at the drop of a hat. Lea never expected that she would be kidnapped and wake up in a rusted, decrepit prison cell because of a madman's delusional belief in eugenics and cleansing the Earth of imperfection. By herself, with only the clothing on her back, she will have to rely on luck and logic to escape before she's killed or worse. Chapter Summary: It's hardly been a year since Lea's abduction and destruction of her own humanity. In a new city, with a new name and a new job, Lea is trying to start anew. However, despite the best efforts of B.S.A.A.'s witness protection program, Lea has been found and kidnapped. By the time she comes to, she's in an unfamiliar place with a strange device strapped to her wrist. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Lea's not alone and joins Claire and Moira to escape this new nightmare. Warnings: insecurity, feeling inhumane, kidnapping, forceful injection of sedatives, guns, killing, being burned heavily, and panic attacks.

Welcome back, Dearhearts! So I know this is a week late. Sincerely speaking, I just lost track of the weeks. But at least I'm caught up to where I was in the original fic. We're finally into the Revelations 2 arc! I really hope you enjoy this chapter, I feel so much better about this than how I originally wrote this!

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17.

Chapter 13: The Abduction... Again

“Terr- doesn’t have to end with -rism!”

Despite wearing the high-grade earplugs, Lea cringed at how loud the commercial boomed across the party room, which was absolutely filled to the brim with chatty, tipsy people. Well, not only how loud it was, but that the little joke she made during her training shifts as an administrative assistant somehow impressed enough people that it’s now forever immortalized in a B-rated commercial. Lea was just glad that at least her name wasn’t attached to it.

The seventeen-year-old carefully moved around the small, huddled groups. Bumping into a few people, she muttered a few apologies as she continued to the drinks and buffet table. Ignoring the food, Lea went straight for the punch, pouring herself a large cup. After a small sip, she grimaced, realizing it wasn’t spiked.

‘... Well… there goes the one thing I was looking forward to… I mean… that’s if I can even get drunk anymore…’

Spinning on her heel, Lea quickly moved away from the tables and started moving back toward the center of the room, scanning the expanse as she did so. With the colored contacts and pupil correctors in, it made her eyesight worse and thus made her clumsier. It’s to the point that everyone in the office is convinced that Lea is blind but too proud to admit it. The shades she wore all the time certainly didn’t help with that little rumor.

‘... Come on Red… where the fuck are you… I’m literally only here because of you...’

After several minutes of stumbling around, looking like a lost lamb, she found her. The auburn-haired woman was standing somewhat near the massive windows that reached floor to ceiling, making up the entirety of the wall. Lea paused in her steps, noticing the younger woman next to Claire. Both were dressed in casual clothing. The younger woman considerably more so than Claire based on the leggings and shorts and the pink hoodie peaking from underneath the black leather jacket. Lea shot a nervous glance down at her own attire, made up of black slacks, blue and pink patterned plaid button-up, and a heavy brown plaid patterned heavy winter coat.

‘... I am way too dressed up for this…’

Shaking her head, Lea started walking forward, but a vibration against her ribcage stole her attention. Wandering off to a corner, she pulled out her phone from the inner pocket and flipped it open. Lea couldn’t help but smile and release a small chuckle to herself as she read through the newest messages from Jill. Truth be told, she wasn’t expecting anyone from B.S.A.A. to keep in touch with her after she was released, at least aside from keeping tabs on a walking bioweapon. Yet, to her surprise, Chris and Jill gave her their personal numbers and regularly checked in on her. Even Josh kept in touch; however, that was far sparser since he’s currently on leave and visiting his family in South Africa.

‘... If only Dad would be as supportive as they are…’ Lea’s smile faltered as the happy, buzzing feeling in her chest soured.

‘... No, that doesn’t matter… he doesn’t matter right now…’ Shaking her head, Lea refocused her attention on the text from Jill.

Jill: hey! hows terrasave treatin u! breakin any doors or mugs yet lol

Lea playfully rolled her eyes and rapidly pressed the buttons until she had a massive paragraph. She pressed a button a second later and deleted it all before starting over. After a moment, Lea felt satisfied with the message and pressed send.

Lea: its been fine so far. red’s nice, i can definitely see how chris rubbed off on her. dont judge me but yes i already nearly got my head stuck in the wall like a week ago red still hasn’t stopped teasing me about it :( though more mortifying is how my dumb little joke during my interview is in the fucking commercial now

Jill: bullshit

Lea: look it up yourself you have that fancy shmancy smartphone

When the messages went silent, Lea pocketed the phone and looked up. Her eyes widened in shock at how much more cramped the room appeared with the new influx of people. Gently pushing her way back toward the center, apologizing to the random people she bumped into on the way. Once again, Lea’s eyes darted around the room with frantic energy. After what felt like an irritatingly long time, Lea found Claire again, who was still with the short, messy, brown-haired younger woman. The younger woman looked down at her smartphone with an angry, contorted face. And while Lea wouldn’t call herself an expert on lip-reading, she had no doubts the young woman was cursing somebody out.

‘... Well… not my circus… not my monkeys…’ Lea thought as she pivoted on her heel. Before she could take another step to find a private spot for the remainder of the party, a loud cathunk noise went off. The party room went completely dark. All of Lea’s senses of danger went off. She ripped off her shades and pulled out the earplugs. Lea winced at the barrage of noise from panicked chattering from everyone in the room. Forcing herself to ignore the auditory assault, Lea focused on her senses. Eyes darting toward every source of sound and every flicker of light in the room.

The shattering of the windowpanes silenced everyone. Then, the blinding white flash led them all to an uproar. Lea winced at the sight, quickly snatching the shades from her pocket and shoving them back on. Lea lifted her gaze and froze. Several armed soldiers stood on the broken glass, advancing. Distantly, Lea was aware of the masses pushing past to the exit. Lea couldn’t move from her spot as the panic rose. Her eyes locked on the back of Claire’s head. Lea couldn’t properly hear what she was saying over the panicked yelling around her.

A shot rang out, and Claire’s body fell, then the other girl’s. Lea stared, eyes locking with the fallen bodies. The panicked shouting gradually grew quieter as more shots rang out and were replaced with the sounds of fallen bodies. Lea wanted so badly to move, to run away, yet her legs were frozen solid. A metallic glint caught her eye. Her eyes locked with the syringe.

Finally, it was like her body was unlocked. Lea’s hands shot up to the soldier’s hand, twisting it until a sickening crunch filled the silence. Her hands snaked behind his head, slamming it into her knee. Over and over until she felt him go limp and silent. Lea snapped her attention towards the sound of running. Before the next soldier could reach her, Lea lifted her leg and swung it down at the man’s neck, akin to a baseball bat. Without wanting to give the others a chance, Lea turned, intent on escaping.

In a second, an ungodly eardrum rupturing explosion alongside a blinding white light rang out. The next, Lea was on her stomach, mouth open in a silent scream. Lea could feel her body sizzling and melting away from the still-ignited bits of polymer particles. Nothing she had felt before compared to the absolute agony she felt now. Distantly, she was aware of the heavy footsteps walking toward her from behind. She couldn’t see who it was or even turn her head back to see if she wanted to. The sharp sting of the syringe being carefully inserted into her jugular barely registered among the agony of her body’s viral healing factor desperately trying to stitch itself back together.

Lea was almost grateful for how quickly the sedatives took over. Masking the pain, her senses blended and faded as the deep, dreamless black void took over.

With a sharp inhale, Lea’s eyes shot open. With a shuddering exhale, she pushed herself up from her crumpled position on the bare, freezing prison floor. Eyes fluttering shut, bringing her hands up to rub at them. Blearily blinking the lingering sedative away, Lea’s eyes roamed the cell’s contents, which were absolutely nothing.

‘... So… first thing first… they took my contacts, earplugs, and shades…’ Lea’s eyes trailed down to her body, dressed in plain white pants and a long-sleeve t-shirt instead of the charred remains of her old clothes. She ran her hands up her back and under her shirt, feeling for the burns that should have been there. There was barely a sign that her back was damn near completely melted off, only the irregular texture covering from neck to tailbone.

‘... Secondly… whoever took me not only took all of my shit… but also fixed me up for some fucking reason…’

Lea half growled, half hissed under her breath. She lifted her hand to brush through what remained of her charred hair but paused at the sight of a bright green glow. Her red eyes locked with the metal bracelet locked around her left wrist. The longer she stared at the contraption, labeled seven, the faster she felt her breathing rate pick up, the more she noticed that the green glow morphed into orange. Lea tore her eyes away from it, forcing herself to stand despite her wobbly legs.

‘... Shit… need to get out of here right the fuck now…’

Lea stumbled forward and wrapped her hands around the cell door bars. But a loud buzzing noise rang out just before she could brute force break the lock. To her surprise, the cell door slid open completely. No living dead or monsters running in to tear her apart. No unhinged bioterrorists to stick her with more insanely potent sedatives. Lea tentatively poked her head out, observing the decrepit hallway of cells to her left and the stairway to her right. Nothing. She went to step outside her cell but paused momentarily, looking in the direction of the bright fluorescent lights past the stairway. Lea’s gaze fell to her sleeve.

‘... Fuck it…’ She bit at the top of the sleeve and tore at it until there was a long enough hole to rip it off. Slipping it off, Lea wrapped it around her eyes and tied it off.

‘... Somehow I can actually see through this fairly well… Convenient…’

Lea left the cell and started up the stairs. After just a few steps, though, Lea stilled as her ears picked up on movement from below. Two pairs of footsteps moving on something fragile, then jumping. Those footsteps made their way to a ladder and started ascending. Lea’s eyes widened as she realized that whoever they were, they were coming for her. Lea pressed herself against the wall, slowing her breathing down until it was barely audible. As soon as the two strangers reached the top, they broke out into a light jog. Just as they were about to turn the corner, Lea jumped out, ready to do whatever she needed to survive. But as soon as the teen jumped out, she stilled, then sagged in relief at the sight of Claire.

“I am so fucking glad that you’re alive.” Lea said in a breathy tone, leaning over with her hands against her knees.

“What the fuck?” The other woman from the party flatly said. Lea cocked her head to the side quizzically. “This…?” The young woman gestured around the eyes.

“Oh! That! Uh…" Lea’s gaze flitted between the two, brain shorting out on any plausible reason why she blindfolded herself without revealing too much. “... I have bad migraines, and lights are a trigger. My shades, and everything else it looks like, disappeared so, next best solution?” Lea awkwardly explained, bringing a hand up to her head, hunching over to make herself seem smaller. When Lea slightly angled her head up to sneak a peek, neither woman looked convinced. “It’s also a really long story that isn’t really useful right now. Wanna know what is useful? Getting the fuck out of here!” Lea quickly turned in her step and started her ascent.

A loud shriek rings out, immediately followed by a crash. Instinctively, Lea spun around, took hold of the pair, and pressed against the nearest wall.

“Did you hear that?” Claire quietly asked, now standing still next to the blonde. Lea was glad at that moment that her eyes were covered, as she was sure if they weren’t, her eyes would be bugging out of her skull. Claire still held an inquisitive look in her eyes, and Lea couldn’t help but feel that the redhead was asking her to use her enhanced hearing.

“Is there someone else in here?” The other girl asked, not hiding the quiver of fear in her voice. Lea briefly turned to the pixie-haired girl, shushed her, and turned back toward where the noise had come from. Whoever had made the shriek and crashing noise was still running from the assailant, but they were much further away. A safer distance away. Far enough away that neither of the others could hear them anymore.

‘... But how do I explain that without revealing I’m a monster to the other chick…?’

“I think we’re safe for now. Whoever that was, more importantly, whoever was chasing her, is far enough ahead.” Lea really hoped her explanation was vague but informative enough that she wouldn’t be questioned.

“Shouldn’t we help them?” The brunette asked, the same quiver of fear still in her tone. Lea couldn’t help but feel as if the tone was also judgmental, but she genuinely couldn’t tell if it was truly there or if she was imagining it.

“If we come across any survivors, Moira, we’ll help them as best we can.” Claire placated, taking point and moving past the two. “We don’t know who took us or what’s out there. We have to be careful.” In contrast to Moira’s, Claire’s voice was level and calm, much to Lea’s surprise. At least until it hit her that this was Claire’s third time in a situation like this.

The scene the three met as they reached the top of the stairs didn’t ease any concerns, as the walls, floor, and the knocked-over trolley were splattered with dark bloodstains. Thankfully, the bloodstains were clearly old by the near-brown color and how it flaked to the touch. Unfortunately, it was still an omen of what was to come. The path ahead was blocked, but there was an open pathway to the right and a door to the left that could be explored.

Lea gently eased the creaky door open and immediately gagged as the stench of death wafted out. The room was relatively bare, except for the table in the center and the body on top of it. The corpse was punctured with several hooks, and the tarp that covered it was soaked with blood, and who knew what else. Lea could hear shuffling noises behind her.

‘... It’s fine… It’s either Claire or Moira… Don’t be so fucking hyper-vigilant…’ Lea told herself, forcing herself not to tense or react to the noise.

“Oh my God, what the fuck.” Moira exclaimed, taking several steps backward and gagging at the scent of decay. Meanwhile, Lea stepped into the room, keeping her eyes on the corpse the whole time. An urge to lift the tarp and to look at the undoubtedly mangled corpse tickled the back of Lea’s mind, but she forced herself to ignore that urge. Instead, she walked past it and up to the cracked glass panel. The glass was already damaged enough that there was a small hole at the source of the cracks. It wouldn’t take much more to break it completely. Lea lifted her fist briefly, intent to smash a bigger hole, but froze.

‘... Even with how damaged it is… it isn’t normal for humans to just punch it further… plus I could hurt myself more…’

Lea walked back toward the doorway, sticking her head out.

“Hey,” Lea called out, her voice still hushed. Claire and Moira didn’t take long to come around the corner. Lea’s eyes were immediately drawn to the rather large knife in Claire’s hand and the flashlight in Moira’s.“I think I found a way to the other side. Come on.” Lea cocked her head back toward the interior of the room.

“Through the fucking goddamn SAW torture chamber? No thanks, not happening.” Moira rambled out, clutching the flashlight closer to her chest.

“I don’t wanna go through there either, so unless you got a better way,” Lea shrugged and dipped back into the room. She could hear Moira groaning behind her as she reluctantly followed. Lea dramatically waved a hand before the cracked glass panel and stepped back as if it were a grand reveal at an auction. “Voila!”

Claire walked up, reared back with the butt of the knife, and in one swift motion, drove it through the glass. An avalanche of glass shattered and littered the ground. Claire hopped over to the other side without waiting another second, with Lea and Moira quickly following.

The other side of the room had more clutter but was still fairly bare bones. There were some knocked-over chairs and what appeared to be a table, some shelving, and oddly enough, a desk and chair neatly beside the exit door.

‘... That better be unlocked already… I don’t know how to pick locks… and I’d really don’t want to fucking Hulk-Smash the door open…’ Just as Lea started walking toward the door to test its lock, Claire mumbled something unintelligible under her breath. Quickly pivoting and walking back to the older woman, Lea could see the anger emanating from Claire’s shoulders as her eyes ran over the dirtied yellow slip of paper. Lea reached up, hesitated, and repeated that process until she finally forced herself to tap the redhead gently on the shoulder. Claire briefly looked up to where Lea’s clothed eyes were before handing the slip over.

“We are definitely going to have to be careful.” She said before walking past Lea and over to Moira, who was currently rummaging through the desk drawers. As Lea’s eyes scanned the paper, she quickly understood why Claire was fuming.

Rules For Monitoring Test Subjects

Those participating in the experiments must observe the following rules:

The test subjects must be monitored 24 hours a day.

Monitor the sensor for any changes; log its status every 10 minutes.

Dispose of any subject signs of abnormality immediately.

Lea let the slip of paper fall to the ground as her eyes locked with the metal wristband wrapping tightly around her wrist, now glowing a deep amber color.

“Not again…” Lea hissed, trying her best to keep her voice down as she could feel her veins burn, her limbs tremble, and an odd and wrong sensation of something crawling underneath her skin washed over her.

#resident evil #dragged into the blood #original characters #claire redfield #moira burton #jill valentine #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link

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wandering-wolf23 · 1 year ago

Note

hey, re: dogs and good breeders — do you have any advice/recommendations on:

1) figuring out what breed(s) I want/should get

2) similarly, figuring out what breeds I should not get

3) finding a good breeder for the breed(s) I want

4) potentially (not sure if this is something I want to pursue), the above with the addition of the intention of the dog being trained for service work

none of this would be happening for several years, as I’m currently a student without the space, financial means, or time for a dog, but it’s something I want for the future. my family has always adopted from shelters and rescue programs (and been very lucky with our adoptions’ temperaments, less so with health), but from the research I’ve done thus far, I think I’d want to go to a breeder for my own dog (especially if I want the dog trained for service). I just don’t know where to start…

I'll try to help as best I can. Please keep in mind that I'm from Alabama and what I did might not apply to you.

1). Read everything you can find about dog breeds. The AKC dog breed profiles are generally a good place to start. I ended up on a Presa because I needed a calm dog who was going to be able to help haul my ass up the stairs, because the building I was working in at the time didn't have an elevator. At the time, I was around 130 pounds, which is a lot to ask of a medium sized dog breed. I also happened to know someone who bred Presas and I've dog sat for her multiple times. Alabama also gets really fucking hot, so mountain dog breeds were out. I just didn't think it was fair to ask a cold weather dog to work in a place where it's 85 F+ for at least half the year.

Educate yourself about lines, breeds, and everything in between. Dog Tumblr also has a wealth of information and people who have forgotten more than I know!

2). Be honest with yourself about your needs and activity level. Get a dog for what you have now, not what you want to have. Don't get a dog in the hopes it'll be your personal trainer, for example. Also, call and text breeders to ask about their dogs and what they are like. Personally, I hate brushing and grooming long haired dogs, so all of my dogs have been short haired (yes, short haired Border Collies are a thing!).

3). I basically asked a ton of questions to the breeders and asked to see dogs, health records, and a tour of the place. I breed goats, so I'm very familiar with those things. Don't be afraid to ask a lot of questions! I started with the AKC and UKC breeder "marketplaces" before I ultimately went with the person local to me. I knew her, I knew her dogs, and I had interacted enough with the puppies and adult dogs to know what I was getting.

4). The last one depends on the breeder. Doing service work, depending on the type, asks a lot of the dog. A good breeder will have a very good idea of which dog will be better for service work than others. This is especially true if you're going to be using an "off" breed. My service dog ended up being "off" from the standard, so she was going to be companion only anyways. My breeder focused on show and companion dogs, so they did not have the hotter temper working line Presas did. I'm also aware that my dog was probably a unicorn in regards to what she was willing to do and tolerate from other people.

I hope I've helped some! There are a lot of other Tumblr users to know much more than I do. Doberbutts is another person I'd go to and ask - he either knows the answer or he knows where to look.

#dispatches #original content? on this blog?#kiri rambles #kiri talks dogs #Maggie was probably a unicorn #she was amazing #i loved her #maggie tolerated a lot from some very stupid people #she didn't like other dogs (fair) but she didn't try to kill them like Grace did

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jeanjauthor · 2 years ago

Note

There is supposed to be something called the Show’s Bible. (For “Show”, Insert Show’s Name Here.)

That means for Babylon 5, there’s supposed to be a collection of all character descriptions--Londo Molari being a Centari with big dark hair combed up in a fan shape, the very Human character of Susan Ivanova having auburn hair--as well as personality traits, quirks, background information, etc, and that it is supposed to be consulted and followed when guest writers come in to write an episode or so.

This is not always consulted, and not always followed. Especially in Season 1, which is often being written more or less simultaneously by several people over a short period of time, so the Show Bible doesn’t always get consulted in time...plus scripts can get changed so information gets changed, etc.

I use Babylon 5 as an example because the vast majority of the episodes (much of season 2, all of season 3, most of season 4, much of season 5) were written by one person, and it was supposed to be a chronologically continuous show. (Not counting flashbacks.) Star Trek was ont the same. You could just about take the episodes in nearly any order, albeit the seasons were usually chronologically locked to within a certain timeframe.

Babylon 5 did a solid job of remembering shht, because JMS (main producer/writer) made sure to keep the Bible updated. He had full control over a lot of stuff, and made sure to have final say over all the big things. He also made sure to reference back to things in past episodes.

For example, when the Drazi (lizard-like race) had their “political war” of Green versus Purple, the actress playing Susan Ivanova...accidentally broke her foot. So JMS quick rewrote one of the scenes to show the actress (or rather, her stunt double) getting knocked down in one ot the fight scenes between the two Drazi factions. Claudia Christian (actress) had to do 1 shot of walking into a room without her foot cast (because the scenes were being shot “out of order”), and then was able to finish out that show, and continue into the next limping around in a walking cast.

...And then roughly a Drazi-local year later, when the big political war was over, they had the character, Susan Ivanova...”re-injure” her foot during a celebratory brawl during the after-party...so you see her limping and walkng with a cast and a cane again, and giving her co-workers a look that’s part sheepish because it clearly happened again, part ugh of “yes it happened again” and part glare of don’t you dare say a word.

It was just this brief, completely wordless moment, and the actress nailed it, completely in character. Given the characteristics of the Drazi race, the way how they behave in good times and bad, and her own characters, nature, it was in character and thus completely believable, even if it was one of those, “what--AGAIN??” moments-of-disblief that happen in real life, and you can only just barely get away with in fiction.

And you can bet your Show Bible that the Babylon 5 Bible has it listed in the biography for the character of Susan Ivanova: “...broke her foot twice when dealing with the Drazi.”

...But remember, while a Show Bible is a wonderful thing to have, and most writers are willing to study it and follow it, and only add to it carefully...not every show has such strict oversight with theirs...and many shows never had a formal one to begin with, back in the earlier to earliest days of television.

Obviously shows like Star Trek (whatever iteration) had to have one because they’re dealing with non-real-world individuals, events, equipment, etc...but again, not every scriptwriter will have had access to the Show Bible...and not every single piece of information would have gotten written down in it, either. All due to time constraints, no single guiding vision for the worldbuilding, and no single overseer eagle-eyeing the worldbuilding. (Again, this varies by show, but there you go.)

Can you please explain how Vulcan telepathy works. Like I know it’s largely touch based and they don’t communicate telepathically but they can with other telepathic races? So is it like they are capable but need another race to imitate it or do they just not communicate that way because of Vulcan Training™️?

The tl:dr; answer: I strongly believe that it works whatever way the writer needs it to at the moment, as long as their editor/story editor agrees with them. :)

Even if you're looking at a very specific versions of it, like the mindmeld, it works in extremely different ways during the course of ST:TOS alone... let alone the various other kinds of Trek it's appeared in. There's some discussion of that whole issue over here at GameRant. (Including the interesting fact that during Star Trek: Enterprise's timeframe, the mindmeld was seen as a deviant practice that not many Vulcans could or would perform. Which is something I didn't know about... most likely because ST:Enterprise just never really "took" for me, and as a result I didn't watch much of it.)

Working out exactly what Vulcan telepathy's rules are, therefore, would probably require me to review every episode in which it appears, across all the various kinds of Trek, and then to sit down and attempt to codify them. And since it's getting close to my bedtime... I'll have to ask for a rain check. :) ...But thanks for asking, anyhow. It's always pleasant to be seen as a source of expertise, even when I have to come up dry.

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coffehbeans · 2 years ago

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Prompt 62: First Meet (Royalty Part 2)

Summary: In which prince Alaric never wanted a human to begin with.

Also in which Coffeh learns to use proper quotation marks lmao

Aaand I’m late again :,) But it’s here! Continuation of the Royal universe! Part 1 here

Masterpost of stories here! I’ll be doing one each week but you can also send me prompts!

When the human queen and king left the meeting room, 12-year-old first born of the giant royal family, prince Alaric, was standing by the door, watching them intently. They stared at him with surprised eyes that widened in recognition, and his fears were basically confirmed. Whatever agreement the humans and his father had come up with, it involved him.

The giant king strode out of the room not long after, until his piercing eyes caught sight of his son. The king’s expression hardened.

“Were you listening in?”

“No, father.” Alaric lowered his head. “But I could not help but wait for your return, since you had told me about the meeting with the humans today.”

Alaric looked up at his father expectantly, not wanting to admit the dread that was building up inside him, and mustered up courage to ask:

“May I know if it had anything to do with me?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” his father answered content. “You have gotten yourself a new toy.”

“What do you mean?”

“The human princess will be given to you until you both reach the age of maturity. Once that is done, we will start the marriage arrangements.”

Alaric felt his heart dropping to the ground, yet he could do nothing more than bite the inside of his cheek and bow his head in agreement. He knew better than voicing his complaints to his father.

After all, the last time he did it, the consequences were too much for him to risk going through it again.

Which brings Alaric to the current matter at hand. Quite literally he thought, as he held the small princess in his hand.

“Do whatever you want with her” his father had told him before Alaric entered his bedroom with princess in tow.

And thus, the prince found himself alone with an unconscious human and an embarrassing dollhouse set up right on his nightstand. Quite the predicament, he thought to himself as he sighed and slumped against the chair. He spared another look at the princess, glancing at her peaceful, sleeping face. He did not even know how she came unconscious, only that when he set the glass cage on the table, he saw her laid down in its corner and passed out.

Alaric looked at the minuscule dormant princess on his hand and marveled at her small size, poking at her head. He knew humans were small, but he had never seen one so up close before. Everything about her looked delicate and fragile, as if a single blow of wind could make her fly out of his grasp. He took a closer look at her silk lilac dress, her long, honey brown curls of hair and the half up braids that formed a tiara around her head. He did not get a chance to see her eyes yet, but Alaric found himself stunned by her beauty. Upon feeling the heat on his cheek, however, he abruptly settled her down on the desk and looked at the ceiling.

Just what was he going to do with a human living in his bedroom?

How bothersome.

His thoughts were cut off, however, when he heard the little princess groan and twitch. She was waking up. He inched closer to her, looming over her form and filled with curiosity.

Her emerald green eyes shot up and looked directly at him.

Estelle gasped and clambered away from the giant, looking up and up and up at his massive face. She started shaking, short of breath and darting her eyes across all directions to locate her whereabouts, but each side she looked there was blue fabric surrounding her, making her painfully aware of the giant’s existence. There was one thing her frantic mind managed to process, however, she was in a room alone with him. Her heartbeat accelerated and she gulped down a whimper, taking her eyes away from his and sealing them shut.

“You’re awake.” his voice boomed from above, making her wince.

Estelle suddenly felt dizzy from the reverberating sound. He was too big, too much, and everything around her was him, encompassing the young princess with his presence, his face covering most of her vision. She got up and took trembling steps back, until her back hit a soft and sturdy surface. Looking behind, her heart skipped a beat. It was his open palm, towering over her and blocking her path.

Alaric laid his head on top of the desk with a loud thud and Estelle’s knees buckled. He did not say a word and kept staring at her, causing dread to stir deep inside her, nervousness sky rocketing.

“W-what are you going to do with me.” her shaking voice managed to speak up. She needed to know what to expect at least, or the fear would devour her whole. The giant closed his eyes and sighed, blowing some of Estelle’s hair out of her face.

“I do not know, honestly. Ugh, how did I end up involved in this?” The giant planted his face on the desk with a thump, grunting under his breath, although it sounded loud enough to reverberate through Estelle’s bones.

But by processing his words, the princess widened her eyes in surprise and confusion. She thought the giant prince of all people would be excited to have a “doll” at his disposal, let alone a human from royalty. But not only he sounded annoyed, but extremely uninterested in doing anything to her. Anything harmful, that is.

Somehow, that managed to calm Estelle down a little.

Until she was suddenly lifted into the air, the movement so abrupt she felt pressed against his hand, as if her soul left her body and remained on the desk. She tried to regain her senses and opened her eyes, only to be met with his own pair of immense brown ones, which reflected her trembling and pathetic form on his pupils.

Looking at her situation at that moment, Estelle could not even call herself dignified enough to keep the title of “princess”.

“I am curious about you, though.” the prince started, his loud voice ringing in her ears. “I never had the opportunity to see and talk to a human so up close before.”

Estelle tensed, but prince Alaric continued, not minding the fear in her expression.

“Your history, culture, beliefs, and victories across the lands. I have read many books about humans, but none answered me these questions. They only tried to convince me that humans are ‘small, instinct-driven animals’, or other blatant lies.”

He inched Estelle closer to his face, so much so that if she had the bravery to do it, she would be able to reach his eye with her hand and poke it.

“But I’m looking at you, and you’re much more fascinating than I thought.”

Alaric’s eyes sparkled with interest.

“Tell me more about how humans are.”

Estelle was flabbergasted. On one hand, it was good news that the prince was smarter than she initially thought, willing to listen to her people’s history despite giants’ consideration of humans as lesser beings. On the other hand, she would be giving information to the enemy land, something Estelle could not bring her to do. She was well taught at her palace, and she knew that if she disclosed so much information like that, it would equal to treason.

Such ponderings did not matter, however, because Estelle found herself unable to speak as the adrenaline rushed through her veins and made her heart beat frantically inside her chest, putting her in a constant state of alert before the massive being. Alaric frowned in confusion and withdrew her from his face, gaining a shiver and another uneasy look from Estelle. She beat herself up for her mute state. Speak something, she scolded herself mentally. But all that came out was a whimper and a choke.

“Are you listening? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Alaric’s voice resounded inside Estelle’s skull as he peered at her with expectation. Was she choosing not to speak to him? His chest bubbled up with annoyance, but a closer look at her expression made him discard the possibility. Her eyes were widened, and while her mouth opened, it only let out strangled noises. Was she at a loss for words? It did not take long for Alaric to notice her tremors on his palm, and how she held her arms and knees close to her chest, curling up and clutching her hands until her knuckles turned white.

Alaric had studied about behavior at some point. Noticing subtle gestures and shifts in expression were key to understanding someone’s intentions in a negotiation meeting. And contents from the books Alaric had read have gotten easily fixated in the back of his mind. His eyebrows raised in realization.

“You’re scared.” he said out loud.

Of course I am! Estelle thought, frustrating tears threatening to escape from the corners of her eyes. She bit her lip in anger. Forever separated from her home, family, and kingdom to live at the mercy of a giant in a world where everything towered over her, all of her predicament bubbled up inside her chest in a mild panic as her breathing quickened. The change in her expression did not go unnoticed under Alaric’s gaze.

“If you want to say something, you should. We will not get anywhere if I’m the only one speaking.” He said matter-of-factly, trying to hide the pout that was threatening to form at his face. In the end, he just wanted to hear the human talk.

Estelle gulped down her tears and mustered any courage she could manage, taking deep breaths. Her mom’s words echoed loudly in her mind.

You are a princess, the future ruler of this nation. I raised you to be so, and I know you are strong. You are brave.

“Y-yes, I am scared.” Estelle started, trying to contain her stutter. ”I didn’t want to be here. I was forced out of my castle, and my kingdom, against my own will.” Tears she could not contain welled up in her eyes. “Stuck here with a giant I do not know, in a giant kingdom that wanted to kill me, my mother and father, my people.” her voice sounded noticeably wobbly at that point. Tears already cascaded down her face. With her last bout of courage, Estelle looked up at the giant prince’s eyes.

“So of course I’m scared! I want to go home!”

Estelle trying to gulp her sobs, to no avail, as she hiccupped and trembled, fearing the worst now that she had spoken up. Alaric was left stunned as he saw the tiny human on his hands speak directly to him, her green eyes firing with bravery, only for her to hide her head in her arms and try to repress her shaking. Alaric looked down in thought, an unknown heavy feeling in his chest. Pity? Sympathy? Guilt?

He knew something, however. Both did not want to be in the current situation they were at that moment.

So Alaric had an idea.

He settled his cupped hands on top of the desk and the princess yelped in surprised and pain from the abrupt movement. He laid his head on the table and glanced at the princess, who had stopped crying from the shock of his movements. His eyes softened, although the rest of his face remained as serious and unreadable as ever.

“Say, princess.” He started, not taking his eyes off from Estelle, who in turn tensed and looked back in alert. “I did not want to be in this situation either. Having a human who is possibly my future bride around, an embarrassing children’s toy in my bedroom.” He sighed, glancing at the doll-sized house.

“I think we can agree this situation is uncomfortable to the both of us.”

Estelle widened her eyes, forgetting for a moment the previous desperation that made her cry.

“So, I have an idea. How about we make this situation easier for ourselves? I let you live alone and in peace inside the dollhouse, promising not to bother you. But in turn, you could tell me more about humans from time to time when I’m curious. How does that sound?”

Estelle raised her eyebrows, completely astounded. Never in her stay at the castle she expected to be able to strike a deal with him, only fearing for the worst. She felt a comfortable pang in her chest, something that burned and soothed inside her soul. Hope?

The agreement sounded more than ideal, and she felt her eyes lit up.

Maybe things would not be so bad, after all.

“Alright. I agree.” Estelle said with a shaken voice, but for once not looking at Alaric with terror in her eyes. He found himself more content with that than he would like to admit, so Alaric did his best to contain the expectant smile that threatened to escape, failing miserably.

“It’s a deal then. But before I show you your house, we never properly introduced ourselves” he raised his head and his hands to be eye level with her.

“My name is prince Alaric. What is yours?”

Estelle felt her heart beat faster, but not in fear anymore. A part of her youth seemed to have returned to her, adrenaline finally stopped pumping inside her veins and allowing a sense of relaxation return to her at last. She bowed her head in a short, polite curtsy, and spoke up with small smile adorning her lips.

“My name is princess Estelle. It is nice to meet you.”

Maybe one day, she would get out of there.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #g/t story #sfw g/t #alaric is prob the most chill giant ive ever written #also theres a lot of space for him to develop here #he's not a jerk but he also needs to learn a thing or two about humans being people #these characters will take a rest for now but I'll most likely write more prompt with them in the future #coffeh oc: alaric #coffeh oc: estelle #coffeh writes #coffeh's writing #oc: estelle #oc: alaric

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dendrite-blues · 3 years ago

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For a relatively short exchange, this scene is jam packed with characterization for Loki.

It’s also our first reliable look into what Loki was like before Thor 1. Not as described by others, but first hand and from his own mouth. I think that deserves a closer look, to see what we can learn about Loki and how he thinks.

This scene is significant because it tells us what Loki’s personality is like when he’s not running for his life. It tells us who he was before his trauma and what his core beliefs are underneath those layers of humor and bravado.

Better yet, since he’s alone we can assume that every line in this scene is presumably true, or at least Loki believes it to be true since he has no audience but himself.

The dialogue centers mostly around the statement “You deserve to be alone, and you always will be.” I’m not going to focus too much on the “alone” motif since I already dedicated an entire meta post to it.

What I think is more interesting about this scene is actually the looping, and the stages Loki goes through in trying to deal with it. There’s a lot of really interesting character traits on display in that progression.

Loop 1: A Warm Bath and Glass of Wine

The first loop entails Sif lecturing Loki about cutting her hair, kicking him in the balls, and storming away. Loki kneels on the floor and he gives us this great line:

“A bad memory prison? How quaint. Some punishment. I remember exactly what I did after that. I went and had a nice, hot bath and a glass of wine, and I never thought about it again. Because it was just a bit of fun.”

So we can take this to be Loki’s default reaction to pain and criticism. When put into an unexpected conflict without any forethought or outside influence, this is what he says/does.

1) Downplay the damage/threat. How quaint. 2) Dispel/soothe the emotion. Nice hot bath. 3) Minimize the impact. Never thought about it again. 4) Deflect responsibility. Just a bit of fun.

Keep those in mind as we move forward, since we’ll be using them to make sense of what else Loki says in this scene.

Loops 2 and 3: Okay, Sif, Hang On

This bit is about Loki realizing just how bad his predicament is.

L: Okay. Okay, Sif. Hang on. S: No, you hear this. You deserve to be alone... And I always will be. L: Alright, I get it. Listen. You are a reconstruction of a past event created by the organization that controls all of time. So you need to trust me and you need to help me escape. Yeah? S: Pathetic. (she kicks him again) L: (winces and groans)

As we all would expect from him, Loki’s first impulse is to try and talk his way out of it. What he says to achieve that goal is pretty revealing though. Because he doesn’t try to ease Sif’s upset by apologizing or explaining or offering to magic her hair back.

Any of these would have been more likely to save his nads in the given circumstance, right? The present threat is Sif, and she’s mad about what Loki did to her hair. But Loki doesn’t really see that. Rather, he treats her as a means to an end.

“So you need to trust me and you need to help me escape. Yeah?”

To me, that choice reveals something of a blind spot Loki has to the feelings of others. Even if he doesn’t actively like hurting people, he does prioritize their problems below his, and quite shamelessly. And at least on his first impulse, he doesn’t seem to feel much remorse or empathy for them.

Usually in fanon we attribute this callousness to his trauma. He’s learned that no one can be trusted and no one cares, and so he doesn’t allow himself to care for others.

But between his Loop 1 sentiment of “It was just a bit of fun” for an event which caused real hurt to Sif, and his Loop 2/3 behavior of “you, stop being mad and help ME” I think it’s reasonable to say that selfishness/low empathy are traits Loki possessed pre-trauma.

Loop 4-????: Happens Off Screen

It’s unclear how many times Loki loops while the camera is following Mobius, but the implication is clear that it was been many, many repetitions. Somewhere in this his denial and deflection must break, because we come back to a much humbler, more pleading Loki.

The Final Loop: I Crave Attention

S: You conniving, craven... L: Sif. Sif. S: ...pathetic worm. L: Please, please, no more. Please, I beg you. I'm a horrible person. I get it. I really am. I cut off your hair because I thought it'd be funny. And it's not. Uh... I crave attention... because I'm... a narcissist. And I suppose it's... It's because I'm scared of being alone.

HOOO BOY, so this is quite a tough bit to analyze. There’s a lot of interpretations you could make, and a lot of topics to delve into. For the sake of focus, I’m going to ignore the narcissism question. That one really needs an entire post, and I want to focus on something else here.

That being, Loki’s way of processing conflict/punishment.

I’ve always found it strange how Loki takes such pride in being called a liar and cheat when he simultaneously has this chip on his shoulder about how nobody likes him.

Those two traits don’t seem to play well together, and I always scratched my head over how they coexist in his character. If he wants people to be nicer to him, maybe he should stop antagonizing them? Yeah?

Well, here we’re finally given a clear reason. Loki craves attention, he hates being alone. So how does he avoid it? Pranks and mischief.

Fair enough.

But then, if all his pranks lead to this outcome--outrage, retaliation, insult--why doesn’t he ever learn? How is it that after 1000 years of this behavior, he hasn’t found a better way to get the attention he craves?

Loop 1: Downplay, dispel, minimize, deflect. He accepts zero accountability for the impact of his actions, and doesn’t think at all about how they affect other people. Just a bit of fun. I had a hot bath and a glass of wine, and never thought about it again.

The only reason he reaches the level of self awareness on display in the Final Loop is because the looping forces him to contemplate his actions and the impulses within him that lead to that behavior.

This is projection on my part, but to me he acts as though this kind of deep reflection is a new thing for him. He sounds like someone sharing a revelation that he’s just had about himself. We’re being shown that Loki is a man of action. He will always move forward if he can, possibly because looking back to so painful that he can’t bring himself to do it.

Circling back around to the pride Loki has for his knavery, let’s suppose that he’s been on this negative reinforcement cycle since childhood. He’s always acted out to get attention, then received retaliation and insults for it, and then pushed the bad feelings out of his mind with creature comforts and mental gymnastics.

What happens over time, when you’re being constantly told that you’re a pain in the ass and no one likes you? Most of us would take it to heart, but Loki doesn’t. He has a big ego, big enough to resist that constant barrage of hate coming at him.

So how does he marry these two conflicting realities?

He turns it into an identity, the God of Mischief.

In his head, Loki excuses himself of blame by shifting the culpability to his moniker. It’s not that he’s immature and petty, he’s just a “trickster.” It’s in his nature to cause trouble, so he can’t help it. You wouldn’t dangle a steak in front of a tiger and blame the tiger for striking, would you? And if other people can’t take a “joke” then that’s not his fault, that’s on them for not having a sense of humor. It was just a bit of fun.

Here we see the union of these two halves of Loki, the lonely ice runt and the mischievous scamp. (And a little bit of the original Loki who Thor accused of being incapable of growth!)

By refusing to think about others, and excusing himself from responsibility, Loki successfully preserves his self worth and insulates himself to most of the negative emotions he experiences.

Pain, embarrassment, and grief aren’t pointless emotions though. They are vital feelings that serve to regulate our behavior, and that push us to conform to the ways of our social circles. Without them, we annoy and upset others. Be annoying for long enough and you will eventually find yourself, well, alone. As Loki is.

Thus “Mischief” is a self-defeating loop, and Loki is just as caught in it as the cell Mobius trapped him in.

In order to be free of both traps, Loki has to stop running. He has to take a deeper look at himself and realize how much he is getting in his own way. The entire scene is one big parallel between these two “loops.” Pretty neat, huh?

Sadly these kinds of thought loops are really difficult to break, they’re buried so deeply in our personalities and habits that we usually don’t notice them until life forces us to address them.

The cell is Loki’s wake up call, and thankfully he does seem to rise to the occasion. He tells Sif quite clearly what his problem is, and he does it with beautiful, painful honesty.

Which is why it’s so fucking awesome for Mobius to acknowledge that, and to finally give Loki a taste of positive attention.

You don’t deserve to be alone. I believe you can be anything, even something good. Whatever you two did, it was powerful enough to bring this whole place down.

It’s a beautiful scene. Well written, meticulously acted. The clarity of vision in the pacing and shot selection, it’s really something special.

#loki spoilers #loki #mcu #mobius #meta #discussion #discourse #scene study #long post #sif #time loop #tva #character study

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arctimon · 3 years ago

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The Beta Team That Never Was - Fanfiction Corner (BH6 Edition)

So all of this Peni Parker comic talk actually got me thinking about the process of her being included in my fanfiction.

I wish I could tell you it was a long and arduous process, but...

OK, maybe some of it was hard. But when you have a virtually endless supply of Marvel characters that you can use for possible teammates for Big Hero 6, you have to go with your gut.

We all know that the team will be Robbie, Aspen, Peni, Doreen (eventually), and Kate. But there were six other candidates that could have been in the mix as well.

And five of them have their emblems here:

These were made before I actually knew how to make hero emblems properly.

Some of them you might recognize. Some you may not. But we’re going to go through them all, from left to right.

And to start...it’s really hard to draw tiny hearts.

1.) Riri Williams/Ironheart - Ironically enough, it was around the time that Hiro started chasing Sirque around the town in “Portal Enemy” that I started brainstorming her. A teenage genius, stuck as to what to make, sees “Captain Cutie” and the chase on the news and gets brainstorming.

Thus, the Power Armor is born.

And she gets so excited that she bolts off to San Fransokyo to show her idol what she’s created.

And then, as per the Big Hero 6 Fanfiction Clause states...shenanigans ensue.

It was an interesting possibility, but the thought of Ironheart was really late into me doing the backstories of the people that I had chosen, so she was pushed aside. I don’t personally see me revisiting her in the future, but who knows?

2.) Nadia Van Dyne/The Wasp - Back when Karmi had first been pulled out of SFIT, there was a young woman who wanted to recruit her into a special organization. It was one that brought together the greatest female minds in their fields, and Karmi was on said recruitment list.

The organization?

Genius In action Research Labs, or G.I.R.L. for short. And it was led by the Wasp’s daughter, Nadia Pym (later changed to Nadia Van Dyne).

Plot-wise, this was probably the person that I got the farthest with, since the story would’ve been more of a focus on Karmi than anyone else. Also, the idea of writing someone with Bipolar Disorder (which Nadia was confirmed to have in her latest solo run) was intriguing if nothing else.

Unfortunately, it sort of dried up from there. A lack of a central conflict, uncertainty as to how many of the other girls (Taina, Priya, Shay, and Ying) to have, and how to handle her actual powers stopped it cold.

But seriously, how do you write in the ability to shrink to microscopic size? That’s not really a thing, even in a world as futuristic as San Fransokyo.

3.) America Chavez/Ms. America - The mere idea of a Superman-esque Latina teenager was enticing, especially because America, in her relatively short comic history, was with the Ultimates and the West Coast Avengers (meaning there was a possible Kate/Hawkeye angle). Making start-shaped portals was the Silent Sparrow angle, and the all-around badass, headstrong attitude would be the counter to Honey Lemon’s more nurturing personality.

But being from an alternate universe (which has very recently been retconned in the comics in part because she will be appearing in the MCU and Doctor Strange 2), no real villain to play off of, and becoming possibly way too overpowered for the BH6 universe, she was scrapped.

It’s quite a shame. I really like her in the comics that she’s in. Perhaps there will be an opportunity for her somewhere down the line...

4.) Alison Blaire/Dazzler - A pop star with light-based powers?

Or better yet, a struggling artist with acoustikinesis?

Her power to convert sound into light was what originally drew me to her. Something that could be made into a technological ability, unique enough to put a (pardon the pun) spotlight on it.

An actual blonde instead of whatever HL’s hair color is.

Heck, she even has a half-sister named Lois that could have been the antagonist (death tough, destruction waves, and the like).

But she quickly got lost in the fold. Better ideas (like Kate and Doreen) got more of my brainstorming, and she was eventually given up on.

But funnily enough...

It’s almost like she’s already in the show.

(See, for the people who may be new, one of the many Marvel theories that I’ve touched upon is that High Voltage is actually this universe’s version of Dazzler. Juniper is Alison and Barb is...well...Barbara London, Alison’s mom).

Hey, @baymaksu totally agrees with me kinda sort of.

5.) Cindy Moon/Silk - I knew right from the get-go that I wanted a Spider-person on the beta team. I also knew that I didn’t want Peter.

No offense to Peter Parker. He’s fine. But there’s a billion other Spiders out there, and I wanted someone out of the normal vein of Peter, as well as even Miles and Gwen.

And in came Cindy.

Locked away in The Bunker because of her spider powers manifesting, she was eventually released by Peter and thus began her entrance into the main Marvel world.

Her “unique ability” is her improved Spider-Sense, which Peter has said is even better than his own. That, plus her other powers, brought her the closest out of anyone to being a member of the Big Hero 6 Beta Team.

As we all know, however, Peni ended up getting the spot over Cindy (for the family angle with Hiro and the giant robot that she pilots). On the other hand, Cindy would later make her debut in the stinger of the last chapter of Along Came The S.P.I.D.E.R., along with Miles, Anya, and Joey.

Unlike Riri, Nadia, America, and Alison, Cindy and the rest of Peni’s little Spider Society are going to be showing up in future stories. And if I can get everything in order, they will be starring in their own story set in the Big Hero 6 universe.

Finally, I have no emblem for them, but the honorable mention goes to...

6.) Lunella Lafayette/Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur - Yes, there was a point in time where I was seriously considering putting a nine-year-old super genius and a giant red T-rex into my stories.

Ignoring the giant...”red flag” here, the reason why Luna never made it is the same reason why I haven’t put Rishi in anything yet. It’s because I don’t really know what to do with supergeniuses that young. Hiro is at least a teenager and thus has teenager-y problems to fall back on (like puberty and Karmi and all that jazz), but a nine-year-old? That’s a little too extreme for me.

When I was nine, I was busy playing with sticks in my backyard with my brother, not solving unsolvable puzzles from Bruce Banner.

...All that, and the giant dinosaur.

But hey, at least Disney is jumping on the MG/DD train. That’s good to see.

Crossover potential, perhaps?

P.S. - As I was finishing putting this post together, it occurred to me that I may get this possible question in the comments, so I’m going to head it off at the pass.

“You know that all of your possible superheroes are girls, right?”

First of all...sexist.

Second of all...true.

That was about 90% on accident. The actual team (Robbie, Aspen, Peni, Doreen, and Kate) has only one guy on it (two if you count Eli, three if you count Tippy-Toe).

I don’t really have a good explanation for that. I like all superheroes, but I think that the girl and woman superheroes need some spotlight, you know? I could have pulled people like Namor or Miles or the male Hawkeye into the mix, but to be honest, I find the characters I chose more interesting than a lot of the guy characters I was contemplating.

Of course, nothing is stopping any of you from using those characters in your stories. Be my guest, not that you really need my permission or anything.

But you can’t take Aspen. Aspen is mine. (Spoiler: Aspen is not mine.)

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dayseternal-blog · 3 years ago

Note

Hey! Can you please recommend the best blank period and canon-verse naruhina fics ? (Also just wanted to say I just read White Lillies and it was so good!!)

Hi! Let's see...I'll try to keep this to Canon-Compliant. Please click here for my rec list of some Canon Universe (compliant & divergent) fics.

NaruHina Blank Period (pre-The Last)

“secret lovers” by @quirrrky - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, Series of related one-shots. After the Fourth Shinobi War, Naruto was gradually falling in love with Hinata and the whole village of Konoha knew it…Well, aside from him.

“Tsukuyomi Boyfriend” by @peppercornpresses - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Over a year has passed since the great Shinobi War, and people are finally starting to open up about their Infinite Tsukuyomi Illusions.

“Doppleganger” by peppercorpress - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Team 8 meets Naruto’s doppleganger (but not really).

“Something New” by @waterrolls - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Can a clueless boy ever figure out romance? Maybe, and definitely not without the help of friends who have the couple’s best interests at heart. Or, how Naruto and Hinata got their changes in uniforms.

Chapter 18 from “Postscripts” by waterrolls - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, Short one-shot. (1) I have a Drabble request for youuuu. Maybe a jealous naruto (classic I know!) but like during shippuden days where he doesn’t even know why he’s jealous? Maybe some person flirting with her on a mission? I dunno up to you! ️

oh. I can't think of any others. I'm sure there's more! If anyone knows more, please add!!!!!

NaruHina Blank Period (post-The Last, pre-Boruto)

“My Name on Your Lips” by @katarinahime - Rated E, Canon-Compliant, Series of post-The Last one-shots. Hinata calls Naruto a plethora of different names, some he enjoys more than others.

“Snapshot” by tappity_tap - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Being roped into taking the picture for your best friends’ engagement announcement isn’t such a bad thing, especially when (surprising) hilarity ensues.

“Permission to Engage” by waterrolls - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Naruto proposing–as only he can do.

Untitled by waterrolls - Rated M, Canon-Compliant, Short One-shot. Prompt: Here, Naruto seeing Hinata with a high ponytail for the first time (they have gotten together in this time) and he was left in awe at the sight of her bare neck and all of sudden he felt the urge to kiss it. And before he realised, he already did and it caught them both off guard.

“Chapter 18″ from “Between the Trees” by @utsus - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, Short One-shot. Prompt: Jealous Kiss.

“Day 2: Cravings” from “NaruHina Week 2017″ by @hinatamyqueen - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. She never knew she could hunger for another’s touch this way.

“The Urge to Touch Her” by @cherryjutsu - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. The urge to touch her was a dangerous thing.

“Flirting” from “Orange and Lavender” by ReadingBennie - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, Short One-shot. “Oh my god. Look.” Ino pointed.

“Hair/Haircut” from “Orange and Lavender” by ReadingBennie - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, Short One-shot. She was fed up. Hinata loved her husband and her children dearly. But this was the last straw.

“Close Quarters” by @spyder-m - Rated M, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Much to the chagrin of their teammates, since becoming couple, Naruto and Hinata are acting much more open and affectionately around one another… Even while in the middle of missions.

Untitled by @nekomamoru - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Prompt: “I know I’ve kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please.”

“like liquid starlight” by wordbends - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, Short One-shot. Too many nights away from home.

“the sky is getting bright, the stars are burning out” by littleredbanana - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, Short One-shot. Here I am staring, at your perfection in my arms; so beautiful.

“The kids, they ambushed me!” by @linisen - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. During the blank period - kids around the ages of one and three.

“Matchmaking” by Happy_Ocelot - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Everyone knew that Naruto and Hinata were a very happy couple. Everyone except the Hyuuga clan, who had clearly missed the memo. Thus began their clueless, well-meaning, but extremely irritating attempts to set up the former Hyuuga heiress and the hero of the Fourth Ninja War. Even though they were already together.

There are a lot more fics that I've recommended in the past within Canon Universe post-The Last (naruhina parenting, naruhina proposals, etc.), so you might like taking a scroll through my #naruhina fanfic recs on my blog.

happy reading!

#anon #naruhina fanfic recs #naruhina canon-compliant #naruhina blank period

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mochikeiji · 4 years ago

Text

Troublesome Baby

↠ Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Reader

↠ Warning: SMUT! Slight size kink, nipple play, overstimulation, hint of breeding, Akaashi wanting to make his baby know how pretty she is and how wrong people are about her.

↬ Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: Pissing a delinquent is never a persons choice. And what pisses off Akaashi most was when people picked on you instead of him.

⇢ Day 2: Delinquent

A person's feelings can be confusing. One minute they're saying they like a good guy who knows how to keep track in time and hs his future planned out and the second they're liking someone whom their parent's had warned them about.

If you like someone who was always up to no good, are you a masochist? They would ask. Are you out of your mind? They would scold. Do you have any idea how this'll affect your life? They would judge.

You'd like to think otherwise of people who wore tattoos, have so many scars, are always picking fights or having that gangsta stance and aura. You prefer to see them as still a human being with a cold outer shell in order to protect themselves from the cruel world, shielding their gentleness deep within.

It was cliche; a bad person getting soft for one person. But that's how it is even in reality. Sometimes, we can only be vulnerable to the ones we trust the most. And the ones we trust the most are the loved ones.

And those who we love, never deserve how they spit at the world.

That's how Akaashi was with you.

Everyone was shock by the time the former first year had a drastic demeanor change. He was timid, reserved back at his first year in highschool. Polite, and what you'd expect to have an astounding school performance. Hey never would've thought that joining the volleyball club would change someone so idly.

They always thought they were a team filled with passionate players who loved to play fair, but it turns out they loved to get rough around games and outside matches.

Roughness was never Akaashi's agenda. But with a stoic facade and built, athletic feature, he fits in perfectly to look like someone you should stay away from. Still, he kept on being the reserved person he was by hiding his wounds underneath his uniform or volleyball jacket. He doesn't admit it outloud, but he was insecure about his beating wounds.

The times where he and the team would go on random beatings after losing a bet or if someone dares to mess with anyone close to them happened often. Now that word was spread that you, sweet little you, happened to be the pretty faced setters girlfriend is targeted by many disgusting comments.

No man would want to tolerate that or will tolerate their beloved pummeled onto the ground. From all the members of the team he was voted to be the most terrifying one, he doesn't stand down from a fight especially for his baby, he wouldn't stop until the person who made a worthless comment about you, the person who would make you look down at yourself, the person who would make you cry is at their mercy.

His delinquent phase soon carried on until he reached his 20s. Even though now he was an editor and his teammates had their own domestic lives and jobs ahead, they kept up with their ways to earn a bit of cash during the night. Minus Bokuto on some occasions due to his volleyball tournaments world wide, it was mostly just him and the former third years. Even the two females had managed to know their ways into the dangers in joining as long as it helped them raise the cash up a bit.

And that leads the scenario now, you cleaning up his wounds again at the peak of 1 am in the morning after a misunderstanding beat down the past hour. He came home more bruised and bloodied than before— that meant they were outnumbered. Usually, it's Bokuto who would bark at the people who would mess with them. He was known to be feared due to his popularity, but inside the group, it's really just Akaashi who was the monster amongst all of them when he was angry.

You didn't know how long you were going to tolerate this. Him always coming back to you with new scars drawing his skin and you patching him up. It was always like this since highschool, but as you grew, people get tougher, bolder. This was too much.

"Keiji, please stop doing this."

Dabbing the cotton on the alcohol a little and tapping his skin gently to avoid stinging him, you were sat on your study chair whilst he was sitting on your shared bed. You were already trying to hold in the dam from breaking as you had been cleaning all his wounds for the past minute, but as you do, they only seem to get bigger and painful for you to bear.

"I don't want you to keep getting hurt."

Finally putting ointments on his arm, he uses his free hand to cup the side of your face, and raises you too look into his eyes. Ones that weren't feral as they were a couple of hours ago.

"They were bad mouthing about you, I wasn't letting that slip."

"But it's fine! People bad mouth about me a lot even before.."

Inside it still stung. To be growing up mocked by society in any way they see flaw in you. You were always an insecure woman up until now, any little words from others can make you into a brawling mess. What more if some threatened you, you'd be a fleeting coward.

Akaashi knew that about you when you began dating. At first he didn't pay mind into it, but the more he got to know what a kind and loving person you were, he realized just how cruel people can be to those with soft hearts. He hated those to the bone, he would never tolerate that kind of person throwing a pile of crap to someone above them.

"I just don't want to keep thinking one day you won't be coming by the door because of this..I'd rather you just stop being like this after years than to get more bruises. I don't care about the money, Keiji, I earn a lot too."

Your trembling figure was obvious, he knew how emotional you get for whenever he gets reckless, and how you over think of the things the people he has placed back in their place said about you. He never liked the fact you tried to be strong for him so many times and not even reaching out for comfort from him.

"Baby."

He cooes softly, moving away the medical kit from your side and hoisting you up from your chair with ease, allowing you to straddle his lap. You were easy for him to carry considering the height difference, thus making him more protective of you seeing as you look like a small child in fear.

Protesting softly at him to put you down since he was just freshly fixed up, Akaashi let's your head fall on his naked shoulder blade with his hand behind your head, giving your hair a slow stroke down to your back.

That's where you started to cry on his skin.

"I don't care about the money that much, I just hate it when someone threatens or mocks you without even having to know you."

He hears you sniffle at his skin, your tears wetting a small patch on it along with your face. He hushes you for a second before patting your bum, indicating he wants to see your face. With head lowered, you pulled away from his shoulder, sniffling down the tears while roughly using your wrist to wipe your eyes.

He grabs one of your wrist as his soften eyes met your red ones. He lowers your hand down to your lap, with your other one following as he was the one to wipe your tears away.

"It hurts me to have them say such things and have you crying like this. You have no idea how far you are from what they say."

The both of you took a small pause, letting him squish your cheeks with his thumbs rubbing underneath your eyes as small, left over tears escaped. Your hands below pressing against his bandaged abdomen, wondering how much trouble he's gone through just for you with a new batch of tears ready to fall.

"You don't cause me trouble, baby. I did this because you didn't deserve it. It was my decision, not yours or anyones. You will never be the reason for my troubles."

He was an observant guy, any little sign of of your body he knows what's going on. He slides your hands up from his abdomen, to his chest and placing them on his shoulders for you to hold onto. Tilting his head a bit to get an angle of your view, he gives you an adoring smile at the sight of your lips slightly pouting out and your eyes wide and glossy.

"You look cute right now."

Blinking away the blurred vision, your heart thumps a little from the way he was looking at you and his small compliment. You loved it when he gave you a lot of assurance and reminders about yourself. Even in times where they seemed unnecessary.

His finger tracing your cheeks to your nose, tapping at the tip making you shut your eyes and crinkle a little. When he groaned at the shift of your hips now snugging against his growing bulge, he quickly places his hands on your hips to hold you in place.

Your eyes popped out, stammering apologies saying you didn't mean to do it on purpose while gripping his shoulders. You hear him sigh out, worried you might've hurt him but soon vanished when you felt his hands sliding down once again to your bum.

"Why don't I show you how pretty you really are?"

He moves from his position. By instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he lays you down on bed and pushes himself up.

"W-wait, your wounds."

"I'm fine, baby, don't worry."

His hands found their way down to your pajama shorts and pulls them down with ease. He let's his shirt that you were wearing on as it only fueled his arousal at the sight of you looking smaller compared to him.

Thighs shaking and biting back a moan when his index finger slid down on your clothed slit, he repeats his actions upwards and downwards until you shortly got the middle part of your panties wet.

"Just enjoy and relax for me."

You clutched the pillow underneath your head when his finger started to press in your clothed slit, his warmth radiating strongly against your sensitive regions, it made you grind shyly on the finger teasingly trying to intrude your entrance.

He bites lip at the delicious sight and pulls his fingers away, spreading your legs apart so that he could settle himself on his stomach and his face near your lower lips. Sliding your panties down almost too quickly, he pushes your inner thighs to spread for him, giving him a better view of what his teasings done to your body and blowing cool air on your twitching hole, drooling with more arousal.

He hears a small whimper from you and looks up, you covering your mouth with the back of your hand, and your other fisting the sheets. Giving your inner thighs a kiss to calm you down, he winks at you before repeatinf his early ministrations on your now bare pussy.

"You're so easily aroused."

It came out like a breathy whisper from his lips as he watches his finger slide up and down. The thought of you tight and clenching to nothing makes him want to plunge in immediately.

He hums pleasingly at the sight and slowly inserts his index finger in. You moan out loudly in surprise, hiding your face to side and not wanting to look down thinking you might just cum from the sight. He began pulling his finger out and then pushing it back in, he wiggles a little inside of your hole loving how warm and wet it was, until he inserted a nother finger in to stretch you.

"Keiji!!"

He thrusts both fingers in with a decent pace, not wanting to go fast knowing how sensitive and easily you'll cum. His mouth was watering at the sight of his fingers being swallowed in your small pussy, and leans his face down with his other hand spreading your lips and giving it a small kiss that made your hips jolt up as he began to attack your clit.

"K-keiji! Too good!"

His free hand holds one of your thighs way to keep you spread amd at his mercy. The two fingers inside of you thrusting erratically when you tightened around them, now hearing the sloshing noises and his mouth sucking you to death.

He watches your head move from side to side and your chest heaving from his treatment. He can feel his own cock painfully erect inside his pants and moves bit, moaning against your clit at his boxers friction, and your hands finding their way to his hair and begging him not to stop.

"Keiji! Please, please, don't stop! Please, I'm close!"

His fingers beckoning inside of you knowing what he was now pressing at and flattens his tongue on your pussy before smirking up and saying,

"Go on, pretty girl, cum for me."

Hearing his voice was like a knock out for you as your hips arched up and the grip on his hair tightened. The pads of his fingers pressing and teasing your sweet spot until you were cumming hard for his mouth to take in.

He pumps a few more thrust until your orgasm faded. You whimpered from the additional thrust and grabbed his wrist to stop.

"Too much, Keiji.."

Hungry eyes raking your sweating body and wet folds, his pants getting unbearable at the moment and zips it down immediately along with his boxers, letting his cock free and breathes in the cool air as it hits his cock that made it twitch in need.

How much he wanted to keep eating you out despite being sensitive, but the need to be inside of you caves in as he hovers above your quivering body and attatching his lips with yours. He slips in his tongue to deepen the kiss, grinding his cock against your wet slit as you moaned inside his mouth from the much needed friction and something inside your needy cunt.

But Akaashi wanted to savor the moment, he knows you were a virgin. He's only fingered and eaten you out during the years of relationship. Even though the thought of having his cock a taste of your cunt drives him insane, he wanted to make sure every part of your body was touched, kissed and adored like he promised.

"Mmh!"

Fingers now tweaking your right nipples as your legs tried to close themselves from now having to be stimulated from your torso, to his hard cock still grinding tantalizing. But his body was in between them, and his mouth was practically eating your whines and mewls for him. Seeing how sensitive you were getting over the little touches he was giving made him moan against your lips. His hand moves to tweak your other untouched nipple and pulled a little, your back arching as he releases his mouth from yours letting you moan loud.

Your back still arched giving him a quick access to suck on your erected nipple, biting softly yet playfully in synch with his pinching on the other nub.

"KEIJI! HAH— PLEASE!"

Trying to move away from his mouth and fingers by pushing his head gently, he uses other hand to pin both of your smaller ones above your head and releases your nipple with a pop, shivering from the air.

He stops playing with the other one and moves there to suck on it. His finger moving to the soaked one and pulling it softly. You trashed on his hold as he continued to assault your breast. Not seeing the way his eyes are now getting half lidded at the sight of your teary ones from the amount of pleasure and the sound of your pleading singing in his ears.

"AH! Keiji!! Please— no more!"

But he knows how much you didn't want this to stop. If you really did want to stop, you would've used your safe word. But just smiles at you fondly, letting his finger move from breast to breast and pulling and pinching quickly.

"Mm, I just love," he pulls a little harder on your left nub, but not to painfully for you, "How your body reacts to me." you hear his chuckled laugh when he stops to massage your breast alternatively, leaving you whimpering from how skillful his hands were.

"You're getting cuter and prettier as time goes by."

Shamefully, your walls clenched from his words. He knows judging by how you bit your lip and shutting your eyes and grins at you. He knows how much you loved getting praised and told all the lewd things he wants to do to you.

"You'll be prettier with my cock stuffing inside you, won't you, baby?

Hands trying to pry his stronger ones away so that you can hold him, hide on his skin and let him ravage you. He does however, using both his hands, he separated your arms and pins them at the side of your head and proceeds to attack your neck.

"Baby."

He cooes at the side of your skin, cock now lubed from his pre cum and yours with the tip just poking on your lower lips impatiently.

"Please..inside, Keiji, please."

Yours legs widened themselves, preparing for what you've both been wanting that evening. He laces his hands on yours, the position you now had more vulnerable for him and he wanted nothing more than to take you and make you feel protected and pleased.

"Tell me if it hurts, okay?"

Lips pressing on your forehead as you relaxed on the sweet sensation, but as seconds went by, your body tensed when he entered the head of his cock in, inching slowly his hard length.

Akaashi's hands gripped yours harder when he feels your cunt fluttering and hugging his member tighter than he expected. His breating becoming ragged so he started leaving trail marks of love bites on your neck to calm the both of you down from the foreign feeling.

Each mark he gave came with a soft praise, telling you how good you were doing taking his cock perfectly and how beautiful you were breathless underneath him. He told you, you were doing a good job holding in and with that you let out a shaky breath before telling him he can move.

Thrusting out slowly, letting your juice slide freely on his cock before thrusting back in with force, enough for you to choke a moan. His hips taking their pace into what he knows is bearable for a first timer like you, but the way he was clenching his jaw tight indicates how much he wants to have his way and fuck you like he was on a rut. You were so tight and small compared to his impressive length that it was getting painful for him to be in a vice like grip down there.

It was a struggle to take him, but at the back of your head as you feel his cock move in and out of you felt so right, you wondered if it could be more pleasurable as it is. His face was alarming to you so you rubbed your thumb on his hand letting him pause and exhale harshly. He didn't know he was holding back so much to the point he forgot how to breathe.

"Are you okay?"

He panted above you as you stared in daze and in euphoria from being stuffed. Trying to stay grounded, you attempted to grind your hips to rile him up, only for him to growl and thrust in, forcing your hips down with a squeal from your lips.

"Don't do that."

"But you're struggling."

He breathes through his nose, he hates to admit it but he had to hold himself together not to take you like a freak in bed. He reminds himself that tonight was about you and only you. How wrong the words were of the people he's beaten for you.

"It's fine, I don't want to hurt you."

Nuzzling his nose on your cheek, he hums happily on your skin when you press your cheek in reply. As your eyes stared at each other, you knew how gentle your Keiji was with you. You knew he would never hurt you even if he could. He wasn't going to.

"Please Keiji."

Moaning wantonly when your shifted your hips in a good angle for his cock to thrust on, you looked at him with pleading eyes and drooling mouth.

"Please go harder."

Groaning on your skin, he thrusts in suddenly, lettinf your back arch once more as he placed his chin on your chest and licks his lips in hunger.

"You asked for it, baby girl."

The thrusts he was making was now audible inside your room; his balls slapping below your bum, your cunts lewd juices being messed up on both your bodies and your moans slowly becoming screams.

"KEIJI!!"

His mouth found their way back on your nipple, biting roughly and licking away the pain followed by a good sucking. Hips never faltering or holding back anymore and engulfs your shaking body.

"Fuckers were so wrong about you, love. Look at you,"

Your mouth was drooling from the side, hair messed up in display on the pillow that made them look soft and angelic on you, eyes, your hands holding onto him tight with your body jiggling up everytime he thrusts in.

"You look absolutely ravaging."

He lets go of your other hand and places his on the back of your leg, hoisting it up and placing it on his shoulder, letting his cock piston deeper into you and making a mess out of you.

"I can't even move a lot from how small and tight your cunt is."

He laughs breathlessly as he aims to find your sweet spot again. You were trying to pull away from his hold but with your thigh up on his shoudler, you were stuck taking this all in like a good girl.

"I think I may be too lucky to have you in my life."

The tip of his cock was now kissing that spot that made you scream out in the blue, Akaashi cursed when your cunt clenched his raging member as he kept aiming at your precious spot.

"Fuck, do you like that, baby?"

"AHN— YES! PLEASE, PLEASE, I WANT TO CUM!"

Sobbing for the much needed orgasm, your body gives up and lets the male above you use it to please you both.

"Fuck, my hips can't stop."

He buries himself at the crook of your neck, moaning near your ear, edging you close to your release to the sound of him. He lets out small whimpers and groans, his cock twitching violently inside you with his thrusts losing their rhythm.

"Baby girl."

"KEIJI, SLOW DOWN! AHH— I'M GOING TO CUM!"

The heat in your stomach felt different from your previous orgasms. This felt hotter, tighter, and a whole lot messier. But Akaashi showed no mercy and carried on,

"Cum for me, baby."

The freed hand he had a minute ago now being a teasing bastard and rubbed your swollen clit. Pinching and rolling all four of his fingers on, making you scream and thrash. Panting with the thought of dying frkm the immense sex he was giving until the last line made you scream without a sound,

"I'm going to cum inside."

Your eyes rolled sinfully at the last line, your bodh ascending above not hearing Akaashi gasp from the way you came and groan as both his cock and abdomen get soaked from your cum and your stomach filled with his thick load and kept thrusting in a slower pace. Your cunt spasming on his member, milking him dry until you were taking all of his load in.

Exhausted, his body stills and lays a bit above you, not wanting to squish you with his member remaining inside you. Sniffles can be heard coming from you as you calmed down from your high, Akaashi stroking your hand that was still clamped on his and peppered you with small kisses and sweet confessions.

"You did so good."

"That's my baby."

"Always so beautiful even like this."

You other arm came and wrapped themselves on his neck, pulling close to you as you inhaled his masculine scent, anchoring you down back to earth before coming to realization on how damp your bottom was.

"I—"

"Squirted?"

Blushing, you buried your head on his neck followed by a laugh from your boyfriend, listening to you blabber multiple apologies.

"I'm sorry!"

"It's okay, I liked it," He captured your lips with kiss, kissing you lovingly and a little longer before pulling away only to give you small pecks repeatedly, "It was sexy."

"You sound so different when you use that word, Keiji.."

"But it's true."

He didn't bother pulling out after you pleaded him not to. Even if it was your first time, it was addicting to have something fill you up to the brim. It made you feel snug and full, and it felt right. Akaashi wasn't complaining on the cock warming, in fact he held you closer to his chest and twirled your hair nonetheless.

"You're really not what they describe you, love," he admires how the dim light from your room manages to create a good lighting that made your skin glow. The hairs that sticked to you forehead after the intimacy you both caught up made you look like a soft baby with eyes looking at him full of love,

"I can't even describe you anymore."

Your eyes trailed down to his wounded torso from his face. Even though he was tainted, Akaashi was sculptured beautifully like no other. But inside you prayed that he wouldn't go home another day with freshly opened wounds just to defend you as you traced your fingertips on each bruise and scar.

He spots on and grabs one of your hands and pulls it in for a kiss on the knuckles, "I promise, I won't make you worry anymore."

Smiling, you snuggled on his chest pleased and full of bliss, feeling his lips kissing the top of your head repeatedly and his arms hugging you closer to his body.

"Keiji?"

"Hm?"

Pressing your cheek on his chest, you looked up to him and asked, with a small tint of blush on your face in embarrassment, "Um..W-why did you you know...In me?"

For a second he blushes as well, but in the end he seemed to be smiling excitedly as you missed the way his eyes glanced somewhere down your stomach.

"So I can have another pretty baby to love."

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu fluff #akaashi keiji #akaashi smut #akaashi x reader #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x you #akaashi scenarios #akaashi headcanons #haikyuu smut #akaashiweek2020 #haikyuu akaashi keiji #hq akaashi

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

Text

There Are No Wolves In the Desert

( Oberyn Martell x f!reader, Robb Stark x f!reader)

Part 1 - The Wolf and The Outsider

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: The series of events that have lead to you being in Dorne and why you can never return home.

Authors notes: Oberyn is not in this chapter but he will be in all subsequent chapters! This part is mainly context corner to build up the character! The reader is a distant relative of the Targaryens but I only mention hair colour and eye colour everything else will remain non- descript! Let me know if you want to be tagged (or untagged) in this story 😊😊

Tw: Swearing, violence, mentions of and allusion to sex (none depicted), war, murder the usual GOT stuff, major character death (I wonder who it could be👀👀)

Word count: 5.7k

Tagged: @evyiione

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Kings landing

Cersei tilts her head, eyes thinning as she gazes out over kings landing, the moon illuminating the gold plated roofs of the upper class, the stench of the poor unable to reach her here. Jamie sits on the bed she had shared with her late husband, slowly re-donning the white armour of the king's guard. He turns watching as the summer breeze blows the ends of her golden hair. His shin guard is clipped into place just as three short knocks sound out against the wooden door, filling the quiet air of the night. Sighing loudly Jamie stands up to answer the door, a smile forming on Cersei’s lips as she trunks to greet the visitor.

“Littlefinger, to what do we owe the displeasure,” Jamie asks, sarcasm dripping off every word.

“Funny… I thought knights usually waited outside the bedchamber of those they swore a sacred oath to protect,” he queries smiling, the candlelight illuminating his prominent front teeth.

“Is it done,” Cersei asks through her teeth, tiring of the man’s desperate attempts to hold some semblance of power.

“Yes. Not a soul left alive that isn’t loyal to house Baratheon... or is Lannister perhaps more apt. The north is ours for the taking now the young wolf has fallen, and Sansa is under control here.”

“What of his wife?” she asks, walking towards a nearby table, decanting wine into a goblet turning with eyebrows raised. Littlefinger was not the only one in Kings landing with ears everywhere. She had heard a rumour, one she wished to squash as soon as she can.

“His widow, you mean,” Jamie states from the door frame, dissatisfied at being left out of the conversation.

“Gone, left in the wee hours of the morning from what I heard,” Cersei says, eyes staring into Littlefinger’s, locked in a strategic game of mental chess.

“So she’s alive, ” Jamie adds, despite his previous statement being ignored.

“Not for long,” Littlefinger states , brushing him off.

“Who saw her leave?” Cersei demands, a hint of concern slipping through as she swirls her wine around in the glass.

“No one left alive,” Littlefinger reassures

“So she's...” Cersei begins,

“She’s set to land in Dorne two days from now, she will be dealt with when she arrives. She is…inconsequential.” Littlefinger finishes.

“And so ends the reign of the wolves,” Jamie remarks, as Cersei raises her glass toasting the gods.

Dorne (2 days later)

You watch the docks appear along the horizon as the ship begins to reduce its speed. The sea spray from the trip spattered across your skin was yet to dry, cooling you off, as the southern sun bares down onto you. You lick your lips, the salty taste leaves you parched in a heat the likes of which you’d never known. You’d never been to Dorne, though you’d heard stories of it’s fair weather, people and architecture, and you were eager to see if they held true. You’d heard the wine here was the sweetest the world had to offer, you planned on returning home with some, even if Dorne was merely a stopover. It was not a honeymoon you were here for, no you were here to complete a task of utmost importance. You came in search of the so-called dragon queen at the behest of your husband. He wanted to see if the rumours were true and if they were he hoped to make an ally of her. He had sent you in hopes that your shared lineage, though distant, would work in his favour. The Targaryens held family in high regard, especially with so few of them remaining. You smile as the shore comes into view, the birds above singing to your arrival. The golden hues of the late afternoon sun paint the tents of the markets in the docks. A sense of bliss rolls over you as the crew ties the ship to the dock. It would be one of the last moments of peace you would know for some time. Your feet make contact with the ground, legs wobbling slightly at being back on solid ground. You stumble slightly and a man with a blue beard catches your elbow.

“Winter is coming,” he whispers and you look up as he discreetly passes you a note. You open it. The letter is long and the script rushed, but seven words stand out ‘the King in the North has fallen’ the sheet slips from your fingers and you drop to your knees. “Quick, we haven’t much time,” he says dragging you up, as the first arrow pierces the sky, hitting the captain of your ship in the neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winterfell, 7 years prior (age 17)

You had always stood out in the north, a caveat of the family you were born into, all of you were outsiders here. Your grandfather was a Targaryen, second cousin to the mad king and when war broke out he led a small rebellion that tried to push back the Baratheon troops storming the capitol, but to no avail. Your father and his brothers were there that day, fighting alongside him, but they were outnumbered, and no amount of skill would keep the combined Starks and the Baratheon forces at bay. After the capitol was taken, your grandfather was hanged and your grandmother took your father and his brother and feld while Robert butchered any descendents of the Targaryen line that would weaken his claim to the throne. Your father had split from his family opting to head north, while they trekked south. He never saw them again. Upon his arrival in Winterfell he built a small homestead outside the city walls and sought work, thankfully the distinctive hair and eye colour had skipped him and he could blend in with the northerners. He found work as a stone mason, crafting formidable architecture admired and paid for by the nobility. The payments allowed him to move up the social ladder and while he remained in the forest he had gained the respect of the elite and was accepted as one of them. His hands soon grew tired of creating. They craved the weight of a sword and so he gave up masonry and offered his services to Ned Stark. Your father became a confidant to the King in the North as he moved up through the ranks. He ended up training many of the soldiers, and for a while, even Ned’s own sons. His proximity to the crown brought him into the path of your mother.

A ball was held in celebration of their eldest child's first name day and your mother was in attendance representing the Tyrells. He spotted her across the room, and to this day he swears the sun shone down on her despite being inside a hall. He approached her that night and they married during the long summer, your brother Illirion was born a year later, then a year after that it was your turn. Their final child, your youngest brother Rhaevar was born two years after you, thus completing your family unit. While the honeyed eyes and dark toned hair of the Tyrells presented well with your brothers, the Targaryen traits that had initially skipped your father came through in your genetic composition. Your hair was as white as the snow that came to the north during the winter, and your eyes a lilac similar to the foxgloves that grew in the spring. You attended a local school until you reached the age where girls were no longer allowed to study. Whilst there you heard whispers from the other children. Every now and then a comment of “murderer” or “traitor” would be shot your way, much to your confusion. It wouldn’t be until years later than your parents would tell you why such comments were made. After school ended officially you continued your education at home and studied the methods of healing that your mother had been trained in while in Highgarden.

Your father insisted all his children learn how to defend themselves, the north was a dangerous place after all, and the threat of war loomed large. The stability between kingdoms was teetering, it had been peaceful for too long, a storm was coming. You’d proven to be of high talent, had it not been for your eldest brother's size you would have been the strongest fighter in the family. Illirion married at 18 to a noble girl of high status, and it wasn't long after that you lost many of your friends to marriage. Some of the pairing were good, some bad and some even for love. Despite being propositioned a few times, you had no interest in being a bride.Your parents did not mind now that your brother had secured a wife and would be able to care for you once they passed. Your father also had it on good authority that you all were to be cared for so long as a Stark sat at Winterfell.

You were acquainted with the family since childhood, though outside of parties you rarely saw them. During the gatherings you and Sansa often gossiped together and Arya would sneak you into the courtyard and beg you to train her. The time spent with them was greatly cherished. Their brothers were often gone during such events, off showcasing their prowess to girls of higher status than you, women who would one day be their wives. Little did you know, Jon and Robb had been told to stay away from you so as not to ruin your reputation. That rule had been followed until one day when a particularly cruel comment from a noble girl sent Arya running directly into your path.

You were out tracking a wolf that had killed one of your family's horses. It wasn’t revenge you sought, but its attack on your homestead meant it was getting closer to town, and growing far too bold for your liking. You’d stopped your trek once you realized it was headed back towards the wall. Approaching your house you see Arya sitting on a log outside your house near the fire pit. Her feet swinging, intermittently kicking at the dirt below.

“Arya?” you question placing your gear down on the ground as she turns to face you, her nose running, eye slightly red.

“Is Rhaevar around? I wish to play” she demands, her childlike nature apparent now more than ever.

“I’m afraid he’s gone off in search of the children of the forest, but perhaps we can find something to do together?” you offer sitting beside her, she was upset, evidently so.

“I have no want to stitch,” she huffs, causing you to laugh at her attempt to insult you.

“Good neither do I. I’m no good at it anyways,” you admit and she looks up at you “Well what do you wish, Arya? Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

“I wish to know how to shoot my arrow so it hits the target every time. I don’t care what Robb says, Jon thinks I can do it so I want to try.”

“Well, I can help with that, come I’ll show you a trick. You’ll hit it every time. Prove your eldest brother wrong,” your comment earns a rare grin from the youngest Stark daughter. After a few goes she gets the hang of it, hitting your practice targets one after the other.

“By the gods,” you chuckle, you’d never seen such natural talents before. Caught up in your admiration of her gift you fail to catch her turning to aim at a farther target still. The arrow soars through the air as two horses approach your homestead, the arrow only just missing them.

“Arya!” you shout, grabbing her arm “You must be careful!” you exasperate as she looks up to you her mouth ajar. The sound of the horses fast approaching.

“Get behind me,” you murmur, pushing in front of her and aiming the bow true.

“It’s Robb!” she shouts, pushing against you attempting to make a run for it. Despite her efforts to throw you off balance you manage to grab her arm, dropping your weapons in the process.

“Why are you running?” you ask, not releasing your grip on her scrawny arm.

“Because I don’t fit in!” she finally admits.

“Well a secret Arya, no one fits in, we're all different, it's what keeps life interesting and what will keep you alive in your years to come,” you say watching as she stops struggling a softness suddenly coming over her features.

“She said I had a face like a dog,” she whispers, chewing on her lip, eyes down. The cruelty of children was always surprising to you.

“Well I’d find it hard to find someone who does not see the tenderness of a pup, or the strength and beauty of a dire wolf. Either way, You have talents, beyond what beauty can measure, ones that will never abandon you,” you reassure. She sniffs and looks up at you offering a rare smile. You see her shift back into her tough persona, the scowl returning to her face as she runs towards the horses belonging to her brother and who you assumed must be his ward Theon. You watch the eldest Stark, now two years your senior drop down allowing Theon to help Arya, as he strides towards you.

“We’d be lucky to have you in our ranks, if you can teach her to nearly take my head off from a mile away,” he laughs, easing your nervousness slightly, his northern accent heavier than you had remembered.

“I did remind your sister to be more careful lest she be tried for treason, or worse yet, get me tried for treason. As for my services, they are always at the will of the Starks, if you wish me to join the army who am I to refuse,” you say, tilting your head and offering him a smile.

“Women are not allowed in our ranks, lest of all those who look like you,” he charms, an unexpected compliment from a man you rarely got the opportunity to speak with.

“Not yet, but rules are meant to be broken after all my Lord.” You retort, eyes meeting his steel grey gaze causing an unexpected chill to run down your spine.

“Are they?” he laughs, the warmth of it causing a sudden heat to rise within you, counteracting his gaze.

“You should remind your mother of that when you return Arya to her,” you offer, as he hands you the arrow that almost took off his head.

“Thank you for returning my sister, wolves have been prowling about, heaven forbid they got to her before us,” he says, concern etched in his face.

“The wolves have moved north, I do not believe they will return this way, and Arya is stronger than you give her credit for,” you assure, his brows raising at your competence.

“I know, and I think she does too, I fear she’ll outlive us all,” he offers, rubbing the back of his neck, the two of you standing there for a moment, the smirk that usually danced replaced by a nervous grin. His head dips down before turning back to the horse, but he stops one last time swivelling round to face you.

“My lady,” he calls after you.

“Yes my lord,” you say, turning back to face him.

“I look forward to our next meeting,” he offers sincerely.

“As do I,” you say curtseying in such a way to make him smile before you both head back towards your respective homes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 years later (age 19)

“What is it?” you ask your father as you lay down your quiver and the pair of small pheasants you’d brought home for dinner. He takes a long drag of his pipe, gaze glued to the treeline. “Father tell me?” you stress, knowing he only ever smoked when bad news had arrived.

“Illirion, he’s...” He stammers and drops his head letting out a strangled sob. You shake your head at the suggestion. Your brother had gone down to kings landing a week ago to serve as a bodyguard to Ned Stark who had been summoned at the behest of King Robert Baratheon. Arya and Sansa had gone with them, leaving Catelyn and the boys in Winterfell, Robb currently ruling in his place.

“Ned Stark would never allow…” you begin, sure your father had once again fallen trap to the rumour mill.

“He’s dead, they’re all dead, all of them...” he whispers, dropping his head to his hands.

“What happened tell me everything,” you stress, pushing your own sentiments aside for the moment.

“Beheaded, Ned for treason, for the murder of Robert Baratheon, his greatest friend, unlikely story. They killed your brother as Ned’s head fell. Arya, is missing, presumed dead, Sansa is a prisoner, to be wedded to that horrible snot nosed inbred Joffrey.” He continues in fragmented sentences.

“Mother?” you question.

“She’s in bed still, hasn’t left, I dare not tell her the worst of it,” he admits tear streaked eyes meeting yours.

“What the worst of it?” you ask, unable to think what could possibly be worse. “Lean on me father, there is no else left for you to confide in, lend me some of the burden,” you stress rubbing his arm in encouragement.

“War is upon us and each family must provide a soldier. Since my knee… I am no longer able to fight, the Starks know this. So your youngest brother…” he starts, but a sob catches in his throat stopping him.

“He can’t go, he’s too…” you begin, swallowing as you try to think of the right word.

“Soft” your father offers.

“No, he’s just not skilled enough, at least not in the ways of the sword. Skilled as he is as a mason he wouldn’t last a minute on the battlefield,” you pause, only one path was clear to you “Let me go in his place,” You say, before you have time to process what you had just offered to do.

“No,” your father says without hesitation.

“Let me go and you may end this life with two of three children. If he goes, I will be the only one left and I could not bear it,” you say pushing back tears at the thought of losing another brother.

“Your mother...” he begins

“Knows I was the best fighter. I had the best teacher in all the seven kingdoms after all,” you say nudging him with your elbow. He places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, before pulling you into a tight embrace.

“When do I leave?” you ask.

“Tonight. It’s a good thing your brother isn’t tall, his armour will fit you, take this helmet. Do not remove it, keep your hood up, any trouble and cut off their cocks, or else I will.”

“I'll see you again, I swear it,” you state, with every intent of keeping your promise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The battle rages forward, men fall around you, but you refuse to meet a similar fate today. Your sword penetrates through the opening of a Lannister’s armour turning quickly to slice the backs of the knees of another soldier, both falling in tandem. You hear a horse whinny on your left and you turn to see Robb Stark fall from his horse becoming trapped beneath the dying creature. You weave throughout the battle towards him. Your blade intercepts the longsword of an enemy soldier just as it’s about to penetrate Robbs armour. You drop your shield to Robb and you push up against the attacker. Releasing your force he falls forward and Robb pushes the shield up hitting the man’s face swinging his head back. Grabbing the man by his hair you slit his throat. You drop your sword and pull Robb out from beneath the horse. He grabs your shoulders giving you nod before returning to the forefront of the battle. As the horn of retreat sounds you celebrate the victory with those around you, surviving the first of many attacks.

You're walking back to the tents when you hear a familiar voice call out to you.

“You, wait,” Robb demands, chuckling with those around him. You continue on your path hoping he was talking to someone else. “It is not wise to disobey your king.” He sounds out again, forcing you to turn towards him.

“Come now friend, we mean no harm. I wish to look upon the face of the man who saved me and invite him to ride alongside me.” he states.

“Perhaps he is too ugly to show his face, my lord,” one of his lieutenants states causing a laugh to erupt from the surrounding crowd of men except for Robb. Though a slight smile pulls at the corner of his mouth breaking the cold façade he’d donned since his father’s death. A moment passes then another until the silence is so prolonged you have no other option but to obey. Slowly you lift your helmet up your eyes meeting his for the first time in a year.

“A prize for the army, my lord?” one of the men questions, hungrily eyeing you up as he fervently steps towards you. Robb's arm stops him in his tracks and you draw your blade.

“Touch me and risk losing more than just your hand, I have fought alongside you. I am your equal. You will treat me as such,” you demand, your voice unwavering despite the uneasiness in your stomach.

“You have a cunt, you are not our equal, though perhaps in bed…” another from the crowd offers.

“Stop! Leave us” Robb orders, and the men retreat back towards the camp ground the sound of laughter and whistles picking up once out of range.

“I did tell you rules were meant to be broken,” you say, watching as he tries to suppress a smile.

“Well they certainly have been now” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Are you going to hang me, my lord? Or is it my King now?” you question, a bolder move than you should have felt comfortable making.

“To you it's Robb and no I am not going to hang you, but you are going to come with me,” he says offering you his arm which you brush by looking back at him to follow.

“How have you come to be here? Does your father know?” Catelyn stresses,eyes growing wide as she scans over you assessing the damage.

“My lady, yes, he does. You see when the war was announced and after my brother’s death, we knew someone from our family would have to fight. My father’s leg as you know isn’t... as it used to be, and my younger brother while talented in many ways, cannot hold a blade to save his life. My mother’s grief was already far too much for her to lose another child.” You say, eyes risking tears as she meets her gaze.

“So they sent you?” she explains to herself.

“Yes my lady I was the best fighter in the family, or the most skilled at least.”

“Well, we will not make your brother come to fight, but you cannot stay in the army,” she explains softly, hand running up and down your arms in reassurance.

“She saved my life today,” Robb interjects and Cat looks at you as you look at him.

“Then I am indebted to you.” She expresses.

“As am I,” Robb states the two of you not having dropped eye contact, much to the notice of Cat.

“Lady Catelyn, I am a capable fighter, but if you will not allow me to so, at least allow me to tend to the wounded or to serve you in some other manner. I am here after all, put me to use.” you say and she lets out a sigh.

“Well, if you believe yourself able to defend yourself, and if what my son says is true then I would be remiss to send you home, though you will not sleep out with the rest of the army, you will stay with me.” she says.

“And during the battle you will remain close to me,” Robb stresses “not for your protection, but for mine”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1 year later (Age 20)

Robb watches as you kill another soldier, the sight never failing to impress him. You had remained close over the past year, both in and out of the battlefield. He kept you close at all costs, your company bringing him some semblance of joy, even in his darkest moments. Rumours swirled amongst the men and the other kingdoms, though nothing between the two of you had come to fruition. Due to the colour of your hair, the enemy soldiers had dubbed you the white wolf, in an attempt to link the Starks with the treacherous Targaryens. While the insinuations at your extracurricular activities with Robb pushed the narrative that he was impure, that northerners were savages, who did not abide by the values of the seven kingdoms.

As you wipe the blood from your eyes, an arrow catches you in the shoulder, the force knowing you back into a tree. Robb is at your side in record time, his hand stopping yours from pulling the weapon out.

“Medic!” he shouts, eyes not leaving yours.

“Go! you need to lead your people, I will be fine,” you emphasize and he shakes his head “Robb, it is a shoulder, nothing of importance lives there.”

“No but it is attached to something of the utmost importance.”

“Go you have a war to win,” you state as the medic helps you to your feet and brings you back across the line.

You sit in Robbs tent, despite your insistence at being treated in the same manner as the other soldiers, he had demanded you be brought there instead. A skilled nurse had removed the arrow from your shoulder just as you heard the rambunctious cheers of the men outside, victory had been secured. Unsurprising considering Robbs keen strategic mind, he was smarter than you'd have accredited him for in your youth. He enters the tent blood spatter still on his face, seeing you alive and fine he takes the moment to remove his armour. He pulls his undershirt off and walks to the water basin wiping himself clean of the sweat and grim coating his skin. Your eyes watch his bare skin intently, studying every scar, every freckle. He grabs a fresh cloth dunking it the basin and wringing it out before heading over to you. He kneels before you, staring up at you eyes telling you to drop the blood soaked rag currently held to your wound, and you oblige.

“I must confess I long hoped to share an intimate moment with you, though these circumstances are not as I imagined,” he says, gently dabbing at your wound, you smile at his concentration.

“And under what circumstances would you have hoped to be intimate with me, my king? At one of your fancy parties, in the secrecy of a barn, somewhere no one would know you had been with a Targaryen girl.” You ask trying to keep your eyes forwards and not at his muscular physique.

“Every man in Winterfell had dreamed of sharing a moment like that with you, though none have found any luck,” he says, standing up and walking back over to the basin.

“I have no need for a husband nor do I have the want to be wife,” you say, watching the muscles of his arm flex as he wrigns out the rag.

“and what about a queen?” he queries, as his hand braces against your thigh, continuing to clean your wound, his eyes still focused on the gash.

“Do you ask all your foot soldiers such bold questions,” you quip, laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“Only the ones naked in my chambers,” he retorts, eyes darting up a grin plastered to his face.

“A bare shoulder is hardly naked in your chambers,” you state, and he raises his eyebrows mischievously.

“My fondness for you was never allowed,” he admits, dabbing the cloth into a salve and applying it to the wound.

“Oh wasn’t it,” you ask as he looks up to you

“No, my mother feared one of us would ruin you,”

“A Targaryen In the north, perhaps it was fear of you boys being ruined.” you laugh, but when you look at him the tone has shifted.

‘When that arrow hit you, my feelings were confirmed, I no longer wish to be more than a few feet from you at any given moment. I wish to marry you. If you'll allow me”

“Don’t be stupid my king, you’re to be married to a princess from what I understand.”

“I'll be married to whom I please” he assures.

“Robb is that wise?” you question, unfamiliar with the high stakes games played with marriage.

“The Frey’s will recover besides, we’ve crossed their bridge already, and I have no love for anyone but you.”

“Love? We barely know each other,” you say.

“Only our whole lives,” he reminds you.

“I fear you’ll wake up tomorrow and regret your words, so I will not answer you tonight.”

“Then I will return to these chambers tomorrow morning and restate my intentions to make you my wife.”

“What will they say if you allow me to take your bed for the night?” you ponder aloud.

“I guess we shall see” he states, slinging his bloodied shirt over his shoulder.

“Goodnight my King” you offer, watching in amusement as he attempts to find the tents exit without turning around.

“It’s Robb. For you, it's always just Robb”

True to his word he returned the next day and asked again, and this time you accepted. You married a few days later under an old willow tree, with Catelyn and a few others standing witness. The morning after your wedding you awake in his chambers, the sun yet to rise. Robb snores faintly beneath you, the warmth of the fire sending a chill up your skin that had become exposed in the night. You scan over his features, a peacefulness you hadn’t before on his face. You reach over brushing the white patch of hair amongst the mass of soft brown curls on his head. As you do his eyes open looking over to you propping himself up on his elbow and learning over to kiss your forehead.

“What is it my love?” you ask, kissing his cheek, then his lips .

“I need you to do something,” he says, serious as always.

“What we just did wasn't enough, my king? How else may I please you tonight,” you offer hands dancing across his chest, he grins shaking his head slightly.

“You have pleased me in every way imaginable for the past year, and even more tonight. This favour isn't a pleasure of the flesh however, I need you to complete a task. You’re the only one I can trust,” he states.

“You shift up to face him, the furs falling off you slightly, “find the Targaryen girl. I wish to make an ally of her, to destroy the Lannister once and for all. You are likely the only family she has left, she may listen to you.”

“I'll do what I can, and I'll do it fast, I do not wish to be parted from you for long.” you admit as his hand traces over your back.

“Take this with you, that way i'll be protecting you even while we are apart,” he leans over grabbing his dagger, the one made for him by his father, offering it to you.

“Robb I…” you begin.

“Will return it to me a fortnight from now when you come back. I suggest we make the most of tonight, so you have another reason to return to me,” he states

“I'll always return to you, even in death,” you reassure and he wraps the blanket back over you pulling you tightly to his chest. And so as Robb took his seat in the halls of Walder Frey to watch his supposed bride marry another man, you were catching a boat destined for Dorne.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present day (Age 21)

“Come with me now Lady Stark, your life depends on it,” the stranger says, pulling you to your feet and shuffling you into a nearby tavern ushering you quickly up the stairs. You see a pile of clothes laid out on the bed and immediately strip, all notions of decency erased in favour of time.

“You must disappear, make them think you are dead,” he says, averting his eyes as you change into clothes typical of local mercenaries.

“Who killed him, what happened?” you ask, needing some kind of answers.

“There is no time, and it's safer if you do not know.” He says eyes darting from you to the door.

“I have a right to..”

“The Freys betrayed you, everyone at the wedding is dead, you have no claim to Winterfell. The Lannisters have taken the North”

“Everyone at the wedding..” you echo, sitting on the bed

“Stay here..” the blue bearded stranger says, returning a few moments later with a cloak, sword and black dye in hand, placing them down and grabbing for the clothes and the dagger on the floor, Robbs dagger.

“That stays” you stress grabbingthe dagger from his reach.

“It’s too…” he starts

“It stays, it's all I have left of him,” you whisper harsher than intended, fighting back tears. He nods and you take it from him. You grab the dye from his hand and rub it through your hair, staining it a deep ember.

“Keep your eyes down, they're the only thing we can’t disguise,” he states

“Who are you, why are you helping me?” you question memorizing the man's face.

“You share a common enemy with powerful people. You have allies here. Goodbye Lady Stark I hope we meet again,” he says, and with a swift turn he exits the tavern leaving you alone with your thoughts. You wait a moment before donning the cloak and pulling up your hood. You walk out the tavern, putting as much distance between you and the docks as possible. Keeping your eyes down as men scoured the streets for the person you once were

#oberyn x reader #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn x reader #robb stark x reader #oberyn x you #oberyn martell #game of thrones fanfiction #oberyn martell x you

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alj4890 · 3 years ago

Note

Hello dear! I have an ask I just recently read TRH book 1 what if we get Liams POV when Riley goes into labor and when he has to make that awful decision. What are his thoughts when Riley passes out and there’s no doctor? Maybe we can find out how they got the door open?

I replayed TRH book 1 & 2 recently, so this ask couldn't have come at a better time 😂. I wonder though if anyone else thinks it was odd that Godfrey was put in charge of installing new security at the Palace. I mean, why wasn't Liam and his King's Guards handling that? I don't know, but those chapters of Riley giving birth are some that hurt me, and only because the poor woman is denied an epidural 😂 I would have Godfrey strung up by his thumbs for causing that and allow Olivia to torture him to her heart's content. But enough of my revenge ideas, let's see what I can do with this for you.

@gkittylove99 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @amandablink @neotericthemis @mm2305 @sfb123 @iufilms

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The Decision

It was too much to comprehend.

One moment, Liam was confronting the man who killed his mother and the next was nothing but chaos and darkness.

Screams rent the air as flashing red lights revealed steel enforced doors dropping down over the ballroom's doors and windows.

Liam knelt beside his wife when he realized she had been knocked down by a panicking guest.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, gently brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Only my pride." She tried to smile but a painful tightening around her middle struck.

Her eyes widened when she felt a wetness between her legs.

"Liam!" She gripped his arm. "My water broke!"

"What?" He searched through the crowd for their friends. "Now?"

She nodded while breathing through another contraction. "We have to get to the hospital."

"We will." He helped her up. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable while we get a door open."

"Liam!" Riley doubled over. "I don't want to have our baby in a ballroom filled with people."

"Is there a problem?"

The couple stiffened when they heard Isabella's voice. Her husband Bradshaw smiled at them.

"Our guards would be more than happy to help with the door situation," his smile held a hint of smugness, "as long as your child is betrothed to one of our twins."

Olivia arrived at that moment followed by their other friends.

"Are you saying your guards won't help rescue you without a betrothal?"

"We're in no immediate danger." Bradshaw explained.

"In fact, we're quite comfortable waiting for your pitiful little guards to find a way out." Isabelle added. "No need for us to cross international lines and damage delicate feelings with our more than capable personnel."

"Delicate!" Olivia heaved a deep breath. "We don't need your help to get out of this."

"We don't?" Maxwell asked. He let out an oomph when Olivia elbowed him. "I mean, yeah we don't! This isn't the first time we have been faced with a challenge."

"No steel door will ever convince us that their baby should be forced to be with one of your twins." Drake added.

Olivia beamed at him before turning her fury on the visiting monarchs. "I'll have it opened in no time."

"Yeah!" Maxwell cheered. "Go Nevarkis Ingenuity!"

She rolled her eyes while going to examine the metal door that covered the double doors into the ballroom.

"Oh!" Riley eased back down into a chair. She raised her eyes to Liam's. "They're getting stronger."

He gently rubbed her back. "Have you had any pains this evening?"

"It was all in my back. I thought it was from being on my feet most of the night." She took deep breaths to calm down. "But now--"

The flashing red lights and alarm stopped. The couple turned to see a proud Olivia slip a strange looking quartz bladed dagger back into a garter under her dress.

There was a square shaped hole cut within the wall with numerous wires exposed.

"That's going to be difficult to repair." Maxwell muttered.

Liam could not have cared less about the damage. If Olivia wanted to tunnel underground to get them out, then he would gladly rip up the marble tiles himself.

Riley cried out as a strong contraction struck.

"I need a distraction!" She puffed through the pain.

"How about some music?" Hana asked. "I composed a new piece recently."

"Or we could sing." Maxwell offered. "Any song you'd like."

"We could?" Drake shook his head. "Sorry Brooks, but that's not happening."

"You would deny her a song when she's in labor?" Maxwell's jaw dropped.

"I doubt our singing would help her any." Drake replied. "Might even double her pain."

While his friends bickered, Liam found his thoughts drifting back to the secret chamber they had unearthed less than an hour ago. He slipped his hand into his breast pocket to touch the letter he had discovered.

His mother's words about how much joy he had brought her echoed in his heart. He wished she could have lived to see the type of man he had become. He had tried with everything within him to live up to her expectations. Would she have noticed? What would she think of him as king now? What would her opinion have been on this choice he and Riley were given for an arranged marriage for her grandchild? Would she approve of them wanting to give their baby the right to choose his or her own spouse?

He wished he knew. He wished she was here guiding him in not only capturing her killer but in also knowing what to do for his wife and unborn child. He would have given anything to have her wise counsel once more.

"Hana!" Riley yelled to stop the argument between her three friends. "Please play whatever you like." She glared at Drake. "Someone's voice is getting on my nerves."

Hana hurried over to a piano and began to play a soothing song.

"I'm going to check on the door situation." Liam pressed a kiss to Riley's cheek. "I'll be back in just a moment."

"Hurry, please." She pleaded.

"I'll watch over her." Maxwell promised.

"I'll go check on the door with you." Drake added.

Liam made his way through the crowd, pausing here and there to reassure everyone that they would be out soon.

"Give me a boost." Olivia ordered.

Drake squatted down and linked his fingers together.

Olivia slipped her heels off and placed her foot in his grasp.

"One...two..." He heaved her up in the air, "three!"

Olivia steadied herself and quickly studied the mechanism that had allowed the door to drop. A lock had formed thus causing them to be unable to lift it up.

After poking and prodding with one of her stilettoes, she noticed the thin metal holding the lock in place.

"Bring me down." She ordered.

Drake grunted as he brought her back down. "Next time, stand on my shoulders."

"Did you figure out how to get it open?" Liam asked.

"I think I might be able to weaken the lock with heat and one of my daggers. Once we destroy that, we should be able to lift it." She explained.

"Can't we hotwire it?' Drake asked, gesturing toward the exposed wires.

"Not since I had to cut so many to get the alarms to turn off." She remarked. "I wouldn't be surprised if there is some emergency failsafe in place for an enemy's attack on the wiring. It might even drop another door on us."

Liam ran his hands over his face. "Do whatever you can to get us out of here."

"Good." Olivia nodded towards the bar. "Drake, we will start with the brandy to use for fuel."

Liam shook his head at her plan to start a fire of sorts. He hoped she didn't end up hurting herself in the process. Honestly though, he couldn't seem to focus on what he could do to help get the doors open.

"Your majesty! I don't think I can breathe in here another second!" Penelope grasped his arm while hyperventilating. "I don't do well in enclosed spaces."

"When will we get out of here?" Another noble demanded.

Questions began to be thrown at him as the crowd closed in a circle, trapping him directly in the middle.

"Is Olivia trying to burn us up in here?"

"We're going to die!"

"What are the guards doing to save us?"

"Auvernal's guards will have us out in minutes, if your king agrees." Bradshaw yelled out over the crowd. His smile was the final straw to break Liam's barely restrained temper.

"Enough!" Liam roared. "We are not going to die in here. The guards are doing all they can and Olivia is graciously assisting." His eyes zeroed in on Penelope. "Go sit down to try and calm your breathing. You're in the same ballroom you have danced in for years." He then turned to Auvernal's king. "As for your assistance, it isn't needed at this time."

Bradshaw shrugged his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal, but his eyes held a deep seeded anger as he looked upon Liam. "If you think your guests wouldn't prefer to get out of here as quickly as they can, then I suppose there is little we can do."

Murmurs rose once more around him. Liam clinched his fists then pushed his way through when he heard Riley call out for him.

Will this night never end?

It was becoming too much for him. The whining of his people, his wife in pain and in need of medical care, his own innate need to chase after Godfrey and make him pay for poisoning his mother...he needed it all to stop for a minute to allow him to think.

"Liam!" Riley had tears falling down her cheeks. "We need to go to the hospital now!"

She gripped his hand as Hana finished the last few notes to her song.

He knelt before her chair. "Olivia has found a way to open the door. We'll soon have you out of here and--"

The sound of metal screeching had everyone turning toward the double doors.

Seeing the steel door go up caused Liam to scoop his wife in his arms and rush toward the exit.

Their friends and guests spilled out after them to only stop short.

Godfrey had installed these same safety measures on every window and exterior door along the first floor.

"Liam?" Riley puffed through another contraction. "What are we going to do?"

"I found a way out of there." Olivia boasted. "I'm certain I can--"

Bradshaw clucked his tongue. "This isn't the same type of door, your grace." He smirked at her. He knocked against the thicker steel door. "My guards could find a way outside to open it, but only if you sign this."

He produced a betrothal contract.

Riley whimpered as she looked at it and then her husband.

"Get. That. Out. Of. My. Face." Liam ordered.

He turned on his heel to take his wife upstairs to their chambers. Once he reached the first step he spoke over his shoulder. "Olivia, we trust you to handle this. Hana, please call Riley's doctor and ask her to meet us here instead of the hospital."

***************

The hours dragged on as they waited. Olivia appeared periodically to vent her frustrations with getting the door to open. Drake, Maxwell, and Hana attempted to keep Riley's spirits up as she endured the ever increasing contractions.

Liam felt absolutely useless. He didn't know what to do to help his wife. He didn't know the first thing of helping a woman give birth. What if there was a complication? What about their child? What if he couldn't clear the baby's airways? What if--"

"Liam?"

He focused on Riley, weakly gripping his hand. "Yes, my love? What can I do?"

"I feel...odd."

Maxwell nudged Liam out of the way to check her blood pressure.

"Where did you find a blood pressure kit?" Drake asked.

"I know it's hard to believe, but Bertrand has high blood pressure." Maxwell winked at his friends. "I can't imagine where his source of stress comes from."

Riley tried to smile at his teasing. She could feel whatever it was pulling her under making every movement feel like it she was wading through quicksand.

Maxwell's smile disappeared. He studied Riley's flushed cheeks and stepped back.

"What is it?" Liam whispered as his friend pulled him away from her bed.

"Her blood pressure is really high right now." Maxwell glanced over his shoulder. "I don't know if that's normal for a woman in labor, but I do know that this is when I would be calling an ambulance if it was Bertrand with this reading."

Liam rubbed his hands over his face. This entire night was one nightmare after another.

"Riley?" Hana shook her by the shoulders. "Riley?!"

Liam rushed back to the bed to see his wife passed out. He took a cold rag and wiped her face, hoping it would bring her back to them.

"Riley?" His voice cracked. "Please, wake up." He looked around at their friends. "What should I do?"

"I don't know." Drake draped his arm along Hana's shoulders when she began to softly cry.

"Keep talking to her." Maxwell jogged out the room. "I'll see about the door!"

Liam turned back toward Riley. He placed his hand on her stomach and could feel the tightening of contractions along with the faint movements of their child.

Riley opened her eyes.

Liam gently cupped her cheek.

"What happened?" She asked.

"You blacked out." He explained. "Your blood pressure--"

Maxwell returned with a frustrated Olivia.

"...short of dynamite, I don't know how I'll--" she stilled when she saw the color drain from Riley's face.

"I think it's happening..." Riley became unconscious once more. Her head dropped back on the pillows.

"We have to get that doctor here now." Liam looked up at Hana. "Any word from her?"

"She is right outside." Hana explained. "And so are Auvernal's guards."

Liam took off out of the room. His long, deliberate strides had him at the balcony overlooking the entryway where the Auvernal monarchs stood talking to some of the guests.

His friends had to nearly run to catch up with him.

Bradshaw looked up and curved his lips. "Trouble, King Liam?"

Isabella snickered. "I hope Queen Riley isn't suffering unnecessarily."

Liam launched himself at the smug king when he brought up the severe pain Riley must be in at this moment.

Shouts from his friends, guests, and the King's Guards drowned out him telling Auvernal's monarch to have his guards break down the door.

"No." Bradshaw's easy smile grew into an evil smirk. "I don't see any reason to have my men do anything like that to help a woman who isn't a part of my country nor one who wishes to ally herself with mine."

"You bastard!" Liam jerked his arm back. His fist formed as he prepared to beat this man within an inch of his life for denying his Riley a doctor.

It took Drake, Maxwell, and Bastien to hold him back from starting a war with Auvernal with a single punch. Olivia and Hana got between the two kings while Isabella merely looked on in glee.

"My wife and child are going to die if I don't get that doctor in here now!" Liam shouted. "And you stand there refusing to--"

"Not refusing!" Bradshaw snapped. "I'm trying to help you." He snapped his fingers and was handed the engagement contract by a nearby Auvernal guard. "Sign this and my men will have your doctor in here within five minutes."

Liam felt all the adrenaline that had rushed through his veins when he tried to punch the man leave his body. He felt not only weak but utterly worthless. He couldn't see any way out of this. He couldn't lose his wife. He couldn't lose the child they had eagerly waited for.

He couldn't get the damn door open without the very people he had grown to loathe these past nine months.

"Liam," Olivia whispered, "it's the only option we have now."

"We'll find a way to break it." Maxwell whispered.

"Yeah," Drake patted his shoulder. "Right now, you need to just accept the deal to get Brooks and the baby some help."

Liam glanced over at Hana to get her advice.

Tears filled her eyes. "I--I know this isn't what you want, but we have no choice."

Liam swallowed and snatched the paper from Bradshaw's hand. He signed the cursed document and tossed it in his face.

"There! Now get that doctor in here before it becomes null and void."

Bradshaw quickly gave the orders for his guards outside to break down the door with a battering ram.

In three minutes, Dr. Ramirez was following Liam up to the royal chambers.

She helped rouse Riley and then guided her through the delivery.

Liam watched in awe as his wife produced the most perfect baby girl he had ever seen.

Tears of joy and immense relief trickled down his cheeks as he held his daughter for the first time.

"I think we should name her Eleanor," Riley said, watching him kiss their little one's forehead, "in honor of your mother."

His eyes practically glowed as he looked upon his wife. "Thank you, my love."

She snuggled her head on his shoulder as they both gazed down at their own miracle.

Liam knew he needed to tell Riley what had happened with Auvernal yet he didn't want to ruin this first moment of them as a family.

He silently vowed as he held his daughter that he would somehow find a way to save her from an arranged marriage.

#choices the royal heir #king liam #liam x riley #trr drake walker #trr olivia #trr maxwell #trr hana lee #choices trh

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years ago

Text

Shine a Light, part 6

A Loki series/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

He is already spinning around and bracing himself as his boots touch the concrete, half expecting to see the beast come tumbling towards him.

But the air is mercifully still where the door has snapped shut.

The evening sky above him is heavy with clouds, and a light mist of cool rain touches his face.

Cool.

He looks down at his hands. They are still shaking from the adrenaline, but no longer blue. Nor do his clothes feel rough against his skin.

Did he consciously change back to his Asgardian form as he went through the door? He is not sure. Whatever the shape or shade, his body feels oddly disconnected from his brain and Loki idly wonders if using the tempad so much within a short time span might be affecting him on a cellular level.

Then again, if that was the case would the Minute Men and analysts at the TVA not have been suffering from chronic time travel fatigue?

Who knows, perhaps they did. A number of them certainly looked worn out.

Tempad “jetlag” (an apt mortal word) or not, unwillingly running into variants upon variants of old enemies on this treacherous timeline coupled with the incessant longing for her has caused Loki’s grip on reality to slip ever more from one destination to the next.

What reality? a mocking voice in his head whispers, sounding maddingly similar to the little devil clock.

You have no idea where you are, who you are or where you’re going. You’re a man out of time, for all time, always.

He straightens and draws in a few deep breaths, surveying his new surroundings: A narrow brick terrasse. At the back wall, a glass sliding door reveals a room covered in darkness, but as nothing moves inside (his night vision remains far superior to that of mortals), Loki turns instead to take in the view of … London.

There is a taste of early spring in the air, and before him as far as the eye can see, the rooftops and spires of the city stretch out into the distance.

Millions of little lights flicker in the dark and the fumes of traffic and city grime mix with whiffs of different cuisines drifting out of air vents.

He has been here once or twice before, though not in decades, and there are whole clusters of towering structures of glass and steel that he does not recall from on his previous visit.

The house by the ocean in 2016, Budapest in 2015, New York in 2014 and now London in what he assumes must be 2013. As methodical as the backwards count has proven to be, as confusing are the destinations and varying seasons.

Only they cannot possibly be random.

Free will is an illusion.

The eerie feeling that even this, his ill-thought-out ‘quest’, is being guided by an invisible hand in charge of his destiny is so dispiriting it’s comical. He can’t quite decide whether to feel perversely honored that some higher being – a version of He Who Remains? – would take interest in toying with him, or furious that he has been singled out for this preposterous punishment of drifting through another Loki variant’s timeline.

It is no use dwelling on either emotion. He has no one to measure his pride against, no one’s expectations to live up to expect for his own, and, frankly, by now that bar is scraping the floor. There is no telling where the female variant of him went and Loki has no means of contacting the TVA or the analyst-interrogator even if he wanted to (he really does not anymore).

Loki unclenches his fists.

Seeing as each destination may have been an intentional set-up for whatever bizarre reason, the question is which character from his past he will encounter in this place. He vows to himself that no matter who he bumps into, he will attempt to reactivate that silver tongue of his and gather actual, useful information.

No more chaotic exits.

Provided no one tries to kill him on sight or squash him through a wall.

The terrace is furnished only with an old sun chair and a few plants, but the room beyond the glass door appears very lived in, with books stacked on the floor and several shelves, a large couch, a couple of armchairs, and what looks to be an adjacent kitchen area with a dining table.

Amazing how most mortals spend their years in such small, crowded dwellings.

Using only his magic, he slides open the door. It makes a low swooshing sound. Quiet as a cat, he steps over the threshold.

It hits him immediately, like walking into a wall: The scent of lavender.

And Thor.

The apartment is quiet, but they were here and recently.

He has been delivered right to them.

Loki is once again frozen in place.

His initial plan when knocking out that man in the canteen at the TVA and stealing his tempad was to find Thor and Jane at the scene of his own moral redemption (well…) on Svartalfheim. Where he supposedly saves their lives. Find them and use the momentum of their unfiltered gratitude to deliver the news that, most regrettably, the universe is likely coming to an end if they do not devise a plan together to prevent a multiversal war – preferably enlisting the help of Thor’s colleagues, too, and in the best of scenarios, Asgard.

Seek out Thor before saving Jane’s life, and Loki would have to first win his brother’s trust in the aftermath of the attack on New York. Find Thor after Svartalfheim, and there would be the small matter of explaining how the variant faked his own death and, after having thus broken Thor’s heart again, took the throne of the Realm Eternal.

Not an ideal conversation starter, even for them.

From the reel, he knows that there were other moments, much later, when he and Thor would become friendly again. After Ragnarok, before his end.

But Loki also knows that this need to get to Svartalfheim has as much to do with her as it has with Thor. Perhaps even more so.

Something important transpires between himself and the brown-eyed scientist on that brutal, barren planet and if it is the last thing he does, Loki will find out what it means.

It does not make any more sense now than it did when he sat in the kill me kind of room, transfixed by her face, but if he had had any initial doubts as to whether he was simply imagining the magnetic pull of her, those had been effectively shattered to atoms when she threw her arms around his neck outside the white house.

“Where did you go, handsome?”

Nothing on this timeline seems to be playing out as it should. Which of course also means that the events on Svartalfheim may never have occurred at all.

On this timeline, a variant has more or less befriended the Avengers in the years after New York when, according to the proper Loki fate, he should have been on Asgard. And, in a few years from now, the variant will somehow be with Jane.

Jane, who has stayed in this very apartment. With Thor.

Briefly, Loki is back to wondering if Thor dies and how, but then he remembers what Bruce said about their “family soap opera” and Loki’s “victory”.

Could it be that he and Thor actually fought over Jane?

As much as he wishes it otherwise, even Loki finds it hard to believe that his variant would have beat the God of Thunder in a fight. The might of Mjølner is formidable. And though his brother has not quite discovered it himself yet, Loki has always suspected that Thor has his own kind of magic.

Then there is Jane: Without having ever conversed with her, Loki would be surprised if Jane would appreciate being treated as a prize to be won.

He is getting a headache. A rare thing for a god, but there is no putting the puzzle together with so many pieces missing from the board. Since he has no hope of using the tempad to transport him off Midgard, maybe the best thing to do would be to just wait here and see if Jane and Thor come back. He has been specifically sent here, has he not?

Without really noticing, Loki has moved to the blue, puffy couch. He sits himself down and leans back into the soft cushions, letting out a sigh. When was the last time he slept or ate anything? There is a sense of fresh paranoia as he realizes that he cannot remember doing either at the TVA, expect for when he fell asleep during research.

“Time works differently at the TVA. You’ll see”.

He stretches his legs out in front of him and yawns. On the wall opposite from the couch is a paper calendar: 2013.

He takes in the rest of the apartment but does not magic any of the lights on. There is the open kitchen, a tiny hallway with a coat rack and a few pairs of shoes, and two more doors to the left of where he is sitting.

Getting up suddenly feels immensely tasking, but Loki nevertheless hauls himself to his feet and goes to inspect the other rooms. First, there is the washroom. The scent of lavender is stronger in there, even more inviting, and spotting a stack of fresh towels on a shelf, he considers taking a shower. It is not as if he cannot easily use magic to uphold appearances (wait, were there showers at the TVA?), but that is no substitute for the soothing feel of warm water running down his body, relaxing his tired muscles.

Yes, he will shower. And cast a spell on the apartment, so he will be alerted if anybody attempts to enter.

He takes a small comfort in his powers being restored.

Loki reckons the other door leads to the sleeping chambers but just to be sure, he magics it open with a flick of his wrist.

A window with closed blinds. A wooden bookcase to one side, volumes and magazines piled high. An old, white wardrobe with brass grips. A pile of clothes strewn haphazardly on the thick yellow rug on the floor near a large, unmade bed.

Unmade – and not empty.

Loki stands perfectly still, one hand still raised.

Why did he not sense that someone was here?!

Seeing as Clint (Bird-Eye?) managed to surprise him in Budapest, perhaps Loki’s “wolf’s ears” really are failing him.

Even so, his nose is working just fine. Unless …

Then he knows. Of course.

His tongue tastes bile.

Inching closer, he sees the black hair spilling over the madras. His own lean, sculpted body whose long limbs and handsome Asgardian features Loki has never felt less appreciation for than right this very moment.

The variant is deep asleep. And half-naked under the sheets.

Something twists in his stomach at the scene. Something small and pathetic and evil that wants out. A foul, winged creature batting against his ribcage with sharp claws.

He takes another step forward.

How has the variant not been alerted to his presence yet? He seemed strong – very strong – in 2016.

Loki studies his twin’s face. His own exact face. Same high cheek bones, same long, dark lashes against a pale complexion. Only this close, the man’s skin has a faint ashen sheen to it. A few tiny beads of sweat glisten on his temples and, yes, Loki hears it now, his breathing is slightly labored.

He is injured. Enough to dull his senses.

It is not the madman from the Void, as Loki had feared after their first encounter. His energy is quite different from any of the other variants, and Loki suspects he may be the closest to a perfect double that he’s encountered yet (and please, let this one be the last. No more variants or Loki will forget which life was his own).

Stepping so close he can lean over the bed, the reason for the variant’s sedated state becomes evident:

Tied around the man’s mid-section, just about visible over the sheets, is the upper edge of a large bandage. Loki sniffs. Yes, he can sense the wound and the ugly tinge of dark magic still surrounding it, like a poisonous signature: This was inflicted by a blade of the dark elves. The variant has come from Svartalfheim after all.

The cut must have been near fatal, but from the smell of it, it is healing well, aided by the variant’s own powers and what can only be human medicine, judging by the clinical odor.

Even so, why was he not taken to the healers on Asgard?

Because he is evading his punishment for the attack on New York, Loki guesses.

Thor and Jane must have brought him to London instead of delivering him back to Odin. Although thanks to Heimdall’s watchful gaze, the All-Father will be aware of what has transpired. In his condition, the chances of the variant being able to use his magic to shield himself from Heimdall are next to none.

Still, he is here. No one has come for him yet.

Loki does not know which is stranger: That the variant is legitimately, badly injured and not currently in the process of dispatching Odin off to some home for the elderly in New York, or that Odin has allowed the variant to be taken to Midgard instead of the dungeons.

Presumably neither the All-Father nor Thor are aware of the variant’s role in Frigga’s death.

Though he tries to shake them off, the images remain crystal clear: The queen mother, killed by one of Malekeith’s monster.

A shiver suddenly runs through the variant’s body on the bed and Loki holds his breath. The man shifts under the sheets but does not wake.

So, dear ‘brother’, your Nexus event was that you nearly died for the people who care for you instead of following up your heroism with deceit, as I would have done.

What sentiment.

The winged creature growls.

Loki could kill him right now.

Kill him and take his place.

It would be easy, so easy to slit his throat. It is not as if he has not committed murder before.

“I don’t enjoy hurting people. I don’t enjoy it …” But this is not ‘people’.

This man is a murderer as well.

The variant has already veered spectacularly off course from his fate, and yet there are no Minute Men next to his bed, holding him accountable for his “crimes against the sacred timeline”, nor will he be apprehended in the following years.

This man got “the Time Keepers’ stamp of approval”, just like the Avengers.

It is so monumentally unfair it is enough to make Loki’s fingers grasp for an invisible dagger. The variant’s existence makes a mockery of the life that was cruelly stolen from Loki by the TVA and for that he loathes him with every fiber of his identical body.

Why should the variant have any more right to live?

Because he will make her happy.

Loki forces himself to rein in the rage. The man will play a part in Jane’s life.

He stares at his sleeping double.

The variant is worthy.

Or just simply unbearably, ridiculously lucky.

No matter what, he must live, but if Loki stays here much longer, he fears the variant’s chances of making it past 2013 will rapidly decrease by the minute.

Loki cannot stand to look at him, nor will he contemplate the fact that the variant is comfortable enough in the apartment to discard his clothes.

If he does, he will stab him to death. And relish in it.

Loki is about to magic himself away to find somewhere nearby to wait for Thor and Jane’s return, when a noise reaches him from the hall outside the apartment.

Someone is coming towards the front door, keys in hand.

Jane.

He should leave immediately. Disappear before she can turn the key in the door.

But he does not.

Still looking at the sleeping, half-covered form in front of him, something finally snaps instead. The winged creature shrieks in delight.

A quick spell ensures that no sounds from outside the sleeping chamber can reach the variant, no matter how light his sleep becomes.

Another one renders all the light switches in the apartment useless.

Then Loki swiftly picks up the clothes from the floor, looks it over, and changes his own black outfit into what he is holding: A dark green, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of soft, well-known black leather pants that makes him feel both a bit homesick and a lot stronger.

Don’t do this, don’t do this.

A voice, not the clock this time but his own. He ignores it.

He does not know what Jane’s relationship with the variant is of this time or what state of mind she expects to find him in, but she has let him stay here – and right now, she is alone.

Her fingers weaving through his hair while the sun beat down on his back.

His conscience will not allow him to kill the variant, yet Loki cannot resist the temptation to be him.

Again.

But just for a heartbeat or two.

This last part he promises to himself and to her, though it does nothing to bury the shame.

Perhaps he did not change at all during his time at the TVA. Perhaps his true, villainous self just lay dormant, biding his time, while various oppressors walked all over him.

Is a stolen moment with her worth more than his honor? Is it worth jeopardizing his one chance of enlisting Thor’s help?

Yes.

Yes, it is.

This is lowest you have ever sunk.

Shut up.

He steps out of the bedroom and closes the door behind him, but not before catching a glimpse of himself in a mirror on the wall. His hair. The variant’s hair is noticeably longer. He cocks his head to the side once and the difference is levelled out.

In the hall, Jane is fiddling with the keys. When the lock clicks, Loki is sitting on the blue couch again, trying to appear casual while his pulse is racing as fast as when Bruce turned green before him.

And there she is.

Hair windswept, cheeks flushed from the cool evening air, wearing a dark green parka, jeans and boots.

Her eyes find his in the low light and a warm smile spreads on her face. His heart leaps into his throat.

“You’re back”. She does not stop to take off her jacket or attempt to turn on the lights before coming towards him and, unsure of what to say, he stands up. She stops in front of him, apparently a little unsure of the situation herself. She bites her lip.

“So how did it go?”

Her voice sounds at once both concerned and hopeful and her eyes are wide with expectation.

She is searching for some sort of positive affirmation and so Loki smiles down at her and says the only thing that seems fitting:

“It went well”.

Jane exhales loudly and her smile returns. “It did?!”

“Yes”, Loki replies, grinning at her (her smile is too infectious) and hoping she will not ask him to elaborate on whatever the subject is.

“Of course it did! I mean, you’re still here, aren’t you? Oh Loki, I’m so insanely relieved!” Jane laughs and looks like she is about to throw herself into his arms (automatically he reaches for her) when she stops herself mid-motion. “Sorry! I nearly forgot. Again!”

She takes one of his hands in both of hers, and Loki swallows hard as her fingers softly caress his with unmistakable intimacy.

“But seriously, you two didn’t fight, like fight-fight, did you …? I hope Thor didn’t …”. She trails off and looks at him questioningly.

“No. No, we didn’t fight. Don’t worry. We both … behaved”. Loki tries to catch up while keeping his replies as vague as he hopes he can afford.

The variant and Thor have had words, and Jane has worried about the outcome. Could it have been a discussion of whether to return Loki to Asgard? But then why has Thor not come back to the apartment?

In fact, why go anywhere else to talk at all, with the variant being as beat up as he is?

Because he and Thor both expected a row not suited for the indoors.

“Okay, you sit, you’ve moved around enough for one day. I’ll fix us something to eat and you’re going to tell me everything”. Jane gently lets go of his hand, then shoots him a teasing smile. “Unless you’ve emptied the fridge. Again”.

“Um”, is Loki’s inspired contribution to the conversation.

“Uh oh, pasta it is then”, Jane laughs, and goes to shrug off her jacket and boots in the hallway, revealing an open flannel shirt with a white T-shirt underneath.

Was she wearing the same thing that day in the desert town? It looks familiar.

Jane flips a light switch next to the coat rack and makes a “huh”-sound as nothing happens. She tries a lamp next to the dining table with the same result.

“Has the electricity gone again? Was it out when you got back?”

“Ah, yes. It was”.

“The landlord seriously needs to fix this, that’s the third time this week…good old London”. Jane scoffs but does not sound all that bothered.

“Can you work a little magic for us?”

When Loki does not move, Jane walks up to him (now even shorter without her footwear) and lightly places a hand on his arm, nudging him back on the couch. “Sit. And shine a light, please”.

He lets her push him down, and her hand moves up to rest on his shoulder. Now he is the one looking up at her. She is standing between his legs and there it is, the affection in her eyes that almost makes him forget that he is not the man it is meant for.

He wonders for how long he can get away with not saying anything remotely coherent before she suspects something’s amiss.

Obeying her wish, he holds out his palm and a small, orange flame appears, casting a warm glow on both their faces. Motioning with his fingers, he makes the flame float elegantly over the low coffee table in front of the couch where it stills in the air.

“I was thinking more along the lines of just making the electricity come back on, like last time, but okay, that is very pretty too”. Jane looks at the little light with wonder and Loki thinks he sees the stars in her eyes again.

Then her attention is back on him. Her fingers brush against his hair. They linger by the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I don’t know if it’s relief, but it’s almost like you look a bit … different”. Jane’s eyes roam his face, his hair. “Do you even still have a fever?”

Before Loki can answer her hand is touching his forehead.

Jane shakes her head in surprise. “It’s much better than this morning. Maybe it was good for you to get some real air after all. It has been almost three weeks …”

How easily she touches him. How sad that he's not used to being touched anymore.

He has only to lay his hand on her forehead in return and he could use his powers to reveal glimpses of her past (yes, he kept many of his gifts from the female on Lamentis).

More specifically, what has happened between her and the variant.

But not without revealing himself in the process.

Her left hand is still on his shoulder while the other now travels down the side of his cheek. He leans into her touch and closes his eyes, just breathing in the scent of her skin when he feels her bending down and locks of her auburn hair tickle his face.

He opens his eyes and looks right into hers, inches from his.

You have not earned this.

You are deliberately, selfishly, monstrously taking advantage of her.

I am a monster.

And then her mouth is on his and he does not say no.

To hell with his soul.

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

For a second, she thinks she feels him tense up.

But as soon as her lips melt onto his and he immediately, hungrily reciprocates the kiss, everything is right again.

Crazy, sure, but also oh so right.

Jane literally never wants to stop kissing him.

She actually told him exactly that the other night. Or, accidentally blurted it out as they were coming up for air, since she is falling for him so fast her brain apparently cannot keep up with her mouth.

Immediately she had felt embarrassed, but it did not last longer than it took for him to raise a teasing eyebrow at her and pull her close again. “Why, Doctor Foster”, he had purred in that low voice that he absolutely knows makes her go weak, “by all means, please…(and he’d kissed her) don’t…(another kiss) stop … (kiss) Ever”.

Then he had leaned back a little, still gently cupping her face between his large hands, and flashed her the most gorgeous, happy, wickedly lascivious smile she had seen on him so far.

Not many people radiate smoldering sex appeal while simultaneously suffering from the agonizing pain of a wound inflicted by an alien sword, but of course Loki pulls it off with flying colors.

From there on, there had been no returning to ‘movie night’.

Now, trying not to break the kiss, Jane carefully moves to sit herself down on the couch as well, making sure not to press against him. For two weeks, they have been making out like teenagers whenever they are alone. Somewhat hindered by his injuries, obviously, which prohibits him from moving much – it is both very, very hot and insanely frustrating.

The first time she had kissed him, he had been too stunned to move a muscle anyway.

The second time, he had nearly ripped the wound open again.

Since then, they have tried to take it slow, although on more than one occasion, Loki has been all but begging to throw caution to the wind – “I’ll heal!", “It doesn't hurt!” (said as he looked like he was going to pass out), and, Jane’s favorite, “It might make me heal faster”.

His impatience would be quite funny if it was not because Jane was feeling just as dizzy with want.

She has been going for a lot of runs in Hyde Park lately.

“Do you have a death wish?!”, she had asked him teasingly at one point when he had spontaneously grabbed her hand as she passed him the kitchen and pulled her tight against him, only to groan loudly in pain when her body collided with his bandage.

Then he had looked suddenly very serious and let her go, and she had instantly regretted the comment.

She knows enough about his past not to joke about things like that.

“Oh. Oh, no”.

That was all her mind had been capable of thinking when she and Loki had locked eyes in the palace on Asgard, right after she had slapped him (surprising both herself and everyone around her).

He had looked down at her with his trademark arrogant smirk, except as soon as Thor and Sif had turned away, his gaze had turned infinitely softer, and Jane had felt something monumental start to shift inside of her.

Something that had nothing to do with the Aether coursing through her veins.

Not long after that, on that awful, doomsday-looking planet, he had saved her life. Twice in quick succession. And for a horrifying second, it had looked like he would die right in front of her.

The memory makes her involuntarily shudder a bit and, drawing her legs up on the couch so she can twist to face him more directly, she runs her fingers through his long, silken hair, and nips at his lower lip… and is startled when his head jerks. For real this time.

Jane draws back.

“Are you okay?”. Perhaps things did not go as smoothly with Thor as she had hoped.

It was a big ask after all.

Once more she feels a sharp pang of guilt. It is not just her and Loki’s worlds that have been turned resoundingly upside down in a matter of one turbulent month.

Loki seems lost for words, and the sadness flooding his face shocks her.

He is far from okay.

In fact, he looks close to tears. Were it not because she had just felt his cool forehead, she would have assumed it was the fever flaring up.

Jane feels her stomach tie itself into a knot. They are taking him away from her before they have even had a chance be together.

Or, even worse still, he has regretted everything about their unlikely union.

“Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry…”

Here it comes, Jane thinks as nausea builds. Erik is about to be proved right about him.

She lets go of him. He is clearly wrestling with himself.

And he does look different. Is this what him dropping the mask looks like?

It is more than just his facial expression, it is his entire posture. Even wounded and half delirious with fever, Loki usually carries himself with no small amount of pride.

His eyes are so lost.

What the hell is going on?

“Just tell me, Loki”. Jane tries to disguise how alarmed she suddenly feels. His touch is the same, and yet it is like a stranger is taking over the man in front of her.

He inhales deeply and runs both his hands through his hair. Entirely without wincing as he lifts his elbows above his chest, she notices.

“Okay”, he begins. “Jane…” (the way he says her name, like he is tasting the word) “…you have every right to hate me for what I’m about to tell you. I truly deserve nothing less.”

She feels the tears welling up.

“I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Her voice breaks and Loki has the audacity to look taken aback.

“Are you being dragged back to Asgard, or are you dumping me? After trying so hard to get into my pants?!”

It comes out way too harshly, and Loki appears genuinely flummoxed.

Also, his face has gone red.

“Oh, Jane, no, he’s not going to… He won’t leave. I mean- ”

“What?” A chill runs down her spine.

“’He’? ‘He’ who? Thor?”

Before he can answer, they both jump a little as her phone suddenly goes off in her bag by the door.

That inane ringtone.

She still has not changed it.

Erik. She promised she’d let him know as soon as …

Jane wants to ignore it, but then her mentor will most likely keep calling and she cannot put it on silent from the couch. Loki probably could though, but she is not about to ask.

“Wait”. She holds up a hand and gets up.

While rummaging in the bag, a single tear runs down her cheek. No. She will keep her composure and listen to what he has to say like the commonsensical grown-up woman that she is.

Was.

She’s only just begun to get to know him properly, so why does it feel like she won’t be able to live without him?

She pulls out the damn phone and presses the button on the side.

The she straightens up again and turns. “Okay, Loki …”

Jane gasps.

The room is dark. And empty.

No, he didn’t!

“Loki!”

No answer.

She stalks over to the couch and frantically looks around. Nothing.

“Loki, don’t you dare!”

The phone vibrates in her hand. Shaking all over, Jane answers the call. “Erik?”. Her voice is very small. “Yes, hi, Jane, it’s me. Listen, has Loki gotten back yet?”

She starts crying. “Erik, he left. He was here when I came home and just now, he disappeared! He didn’t even say goodbye.”

She can hear how desperate she sounds.

“What do you mean ‘disappeared’?” Erik sounds confused.

“He is gone! I turned my back on him for one second and he vanished!” Jane’s voice breaks.

“Look, Jane, I really can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe you misunderstood him? He came to see me not two hours ago after that thing with Thor and, well, let’s just say he went out of his way to make a case for himself. And you…”

“What? What did he- ”

“Jane?” Darcy’s voice cuts through. She must have taken the phone from Erik. “The lunatic is absolutely batshit crazy about you, okay? Stop blubbering. He’s probably just bored and fucking with you since you’re not actually f- ”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Muffled sounds, as Erik wrestles the phone back.

“Come on over, Jane, okay? We’re all still at the lab. Ian’s made tortillas if you can believe it”.

“But…” Jane wavers. Is Loki really playing a joke on her?

Erik is not taking no for answer: “Jane, don’t indulge these little games of his, okay? Come have dinner with us, and I’ll tell you what he told me before. And if he isn’t back later tonight, it’ll be my pleasure to enlist Thor to beat the crap out of him. It’s long overdue”.

Despite herself, Jane cannot help but smile.

“Okay. I’m coming over”. She exhales. The feeling of unease is subsiding a bit.

“Good girl”, Erik says. “Tell her to bring beer!” Darcy shouts from somewhere in background.

Jane hangs up and puts on her boots again. Loki and Erik had an actual conversation with no casualties?

She grabs her jacket and slams the front door behind her.

He really is infuriating, that prince of hers.

If he turns up later, she will make him pay dearly for scaring her.

No making out for a week.

(Yeah, right.)

To be continued in part 7 ....

This was supposed to have been the final chapter. Only 'someone' needed extra time star gazing. Please forgive me him!

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