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libidomechanica · 8 months ago

Text

And bye The Shah beheld the root and groom

A ballad sequence

Viewing, the council broken neck. And paces leisurely once from four will he sense them ken he’s right eyes, where you are

footage to kiss shouldst thou wast not so much; if only in the directly for sport of Ruth, when right prove, to be harms:

stretched and throw me beguiled, the morning looks as may float ’neath the moon. So you see her grows sad and idle life close by

a tedious zeal or physics are sweets to the one after the Hall! Each matin bells; and when the mind with his

forgotten hand again, and vines, and shot a gleam of Sorrow I will continent, above the trumpet’s mouth are doth fearful

to settled for me which my sonnet to his noble hand while some life; reserved his she never is gane when the

dull opiate to pass, it chance, ground the fragile vision Venus, where hard by your silks. By a beacon in my blue

night wake to glitter and cannot heard the prize, that nobody calls you are my hour; unless it die. The female

parliament; and, the Dagger, the leave thee lie! That heaven of God, and stranger over and stole a breeze bluster’d in act,

remember I am never let me excuse there, emitting with sweet looks o’er our humbly at your nakedness.

Of him those faire, most used to me. Whither dread thick, as the map of day: the scars remained: but yet, never be princess; she, that writ it; for I renounce that doth scathe, the near to wake me rue it. And the shame and pain his dress than Dryope’s

lone liquorish heart’s wise casting him whose immortal world is full of such gloomy shame, that doth presented Maid or Nymph, or my love, although her, not be, but a consolation from Beauty as tall as bright on a pincushion, heedless

flattered by any other savour nobleman of state has been contemplatinum loops shrine. Moved to his lesson by the noble the grey-headed tail, a vulture from God: nor shame and gone. Of orphans of our life; which bit of

memory; though he will fly to the human thou loiter therein a melancholy spirit’s.— By all things to my mind’s impossible, and the affection new, and bear himself in scorn and rhymes and to find sometimes a gem! And I

counted our sleep, and to fall. Out his leaves stuck in the very word in the same. What this bosom: thou with the tiles, for someone’s going; we may come and thought, until I say, but theretofore, I seemed to move to ravished precious

moon.&Somewhat latest ashes lying day; a year behind. Therefore I eager followed with such and he stars in virgins’ hands in pity me, why aught else saw she turn’d gills of death aloud, with amber still thy destinies! A lovers

burn away, come within a forest through my lips have the next years, we must be new and bade here, and pluck down a lion in this mates; but your finger; vacant leave his fierce loud to Lord of such, I am old but copying is,

which maybe tells approve desired. Kept up a life shall? Softly gathering o’er these our humbled on the birth, wealth it was far away, or let my bonier yet in bail for your love, hatred, joy, or fear, the herbs that drop adown twenty,

my little heaven knows the sea inside you biblically speak against a wither heat, nor could rather loves on mine eye and free—sir Leoline she-bird of a swallow’s nest-door, could find a half-self, nor eloquence roofs. And here

is plains her veil, the bridegroom to the smoothly steer my life close their famish’d by the sounds, that a glimmering love’s its prophesying curls, and rise like one who is he wholly, age and spied the mere followed, when she said: Hence, the glooms, the crossed

real the fairy guesses, where he spoke, there choppers to her picture breath, and three in her eye, easy live: thus I watch. To be but stay. There, laughed They wandering more pitie to me: for the rock bound the spider’s reign, a lusty knight, then first

assay’d. To the steep rough the writing I did not find, as a kind is here the world, and oil besmear’d. Nor tress of quiet hourly leave, so that, as before from she wrongs to Loue, and became her arms and coldly him embrace, and we shall

move openly this sceptre like the moon, the footage to kiss and cress was, blue-bells trembling voyce bring to this night, who am a shout moss and sun, when they sound: where we are dead, but none everything, and morn. I carry you, gentle daughter

her looks both good old who refuses tread, each humanity. The sacraments will their ancient elm, lean again and in his pleasure find; but all ruby red, cheeks. And here to shake the meadow understand wave of those swift treble

pipe, too rare, too ripe, the true, no truth, and thine oath to answer vague as will now she unbound a things and the Northern employed my hart. That single elm- tree will again she heraldry, that twinkle in your eye. My restored to meet against

my heart with wine, out-sparkling of years, my chain of weeping a ditty to roose herself, so dear Perilla, I wis since my hot despaire, and slay me not for the blush, beating they’re given to ride, as full had Thyrsis, let go!

We hae sword swallows light of the knight. ’Me weariness, or where longer moulder bare, which evermore blushed upon their pathway strange. Or snow, deceiu’d them smell ambrosia-like, or gloom, the longer envying to universal tinge of

undescribe, unless it die. I did was a rose inmost glens, on like an out-of-tune worn viol, a good Angel King, from the grasshoppers to your character’d, no breeze: the bring in descended so, the lady so rights, while he jested well.

I carry yet. And only me is your lives in this, my Mary, and poets gave; and, in its Face looking of it

in the evening, how she took an airy channels pebble- stones and eke my sin and ready more subtle captive, burst,

or intelligences as she knows that white, shall for solitary breeze to choose you yet most heart and small know the

frail it came to see her troth, and, after parents grudge, and in clover the knight: but, fool, the think me bounds that. And that

August you sudden in a new birth, life, and what toiling direct to thrill and fast upon his gilt-head cloudy, even

now I call celestial round of paragon; and in a tumultuous power befalls as warriors come a

cheerless Heliades melt in so good which not acquainted for ever get than his hour in the timeless vow to free

discussion saw, and twigs, might a crime, and high fane? Away! As a shut there dank moistened next into the animal.

Daily, I pluck’d fresh before, I hear that would rather than the close thee bemoan that and marriage be white bowery

oleanders are pent, who from which we share a poem of grass; shapeless grateful good, alder children die by it, such

a day I’ll whispering o’er the trances and clown: perhaps it is hush’d away. Been cease and the house. Third degree; if

better and want, because they spurre my spare, forc’t, by a mused rhymes and the unaccomplicate from the paints at a disgrace.

Woo’d and she best, with the could weep for to learn to speaks nor slip through they never here. Produce more makes my hands, from

hidden rose again! Thou too, which sourly leaves unbound a things extreme, and overshadows number studs, my clenched leaf,

the bridge. And past through in the lofty claims of ladies, whereat, methought, the clock turf, and in her am grieved at a’!

Did but with that the receives, and all his vile world and fare; no critic I—would it liv’d longing and failed to guardians,

and here I forget me, no cloudiness, of mossy leaf, that we hae plight meant. Fair maiden with universal

love’s promove: so thou loves Triumph, must be won, beauteous in her like strand.—She is a winsome wee thing, she is not thyself

we give golden honest man that tread, and sullen bird abandoned once, absent case. Bed I take the green, your lovely

glorify the weariness, we track by Children fourth I love and eyes—and gainst me. Table- cloth and them both sweet

music for thee how far to year to let it knell offender paly lipp’d, and sae neat, for loveliness, at high

continued to slumb’ring Jack and spectre-thin, the If and Why I love that placed, with his beauty and briers! Things combustible

to the reach doth glories of your charm’d, singer, from the fool the heau’n to forest brake, rich with our eyes, my love

first day, first day—when I read; self so late should flower, and a sleeping haze, sees full of grass you say parataxis

would be wroth to answer to discontent; the visions lie; yet freely moves about my good surety, than not come

sweet will offender, fair to such your mind with sighs himself did the shadoweth eternal spring. Came backyard licks

us. And though thought, mark me, Peona, his life close, and as thou could see it heaven and remain, and be council up.

Share a part us! The lamp, and strangeness in leaves. That frowning Honour three instead without a sister, holp to last!

Love, and wears their thought he said no and leave, so deepen fresh budding of her train;—the while some canker lives it seems he’s

pupils. But at the treasure find; among the air my quiet circled a mused rhyme, and deathful fire, he went with music

by thee flown, she put my seat for the whole of corn, and dim. The little sheep-track’s maze the offender, fair, thy combine

thou pass they quiver. Will ye go to the quest, in him to his pretty rooms; or new Love because he’d nothing more.

To the moon to slacken all its restored to an end. The bugle, and and muttered the midst, they went, above to make

loved the bridal bed when I got the night. Because we were white. You an onely tread, like clouds and walking, you shall

be cut in the sandless ocean was well your peculiar mouths of purest me to strewn—so half-starves amid the

thronging’s fire made delight—a feeling with my life from that are animal. The shadow of the small wholly, a flame;

and comply. On a sudden limbs did roll through her cheek—there been contested farther for life. Yet hadst thou gentle bird;

for thee my head Uranian Venus, when I for thee alone that assay, a martial frames infuse or a grand as

the sun. Grant back a preserved his own and painted hast the tiles, for fresh nuptials joyfully, to life’s heaving us

fancy i have been at you meant, I see my offered around nudgers, round thy cheeks like a poem, I said, and over-

spangled thy years out for very maid. Lets into a rage. Now I rais’d nor should still on rose with stifled breath; into

Naiads’ cells, and then we call his veins—no doubting o’er her trance; cheerfully,—how the care not for us, and left to see.

A lion in man’s doors of human share, but when Sicilian fold, to please, feeding flame of the charmed to serue the

old here half house did swell of all sweet than when then, somewhere, grew worse, and what you coming. I’ll write which ev’n dar’d to seem

to an end. As still the wide world anyone every fawn, but yet, coop’d up and sweet sounds, and cress ways, and buzzed in his

long ago a giant battle arrayed her maidens, on the winds at last night car, each other: when I’m with the grave:

thus I watched it little touch of shepherds gone, she is a coof wi’ a mate, some beauty as tall grove, your substance, spreading

through steps pursue; that sweet bird before me. It is the flattering from thy brain-flies, and and slowly child, as what

can be, but the rich old love evening hand, hee’l flatters were told in soul could wandering fern, and so can have shot a

golden pits: ’twas even our atoms were fall than your music so sweet recoil of herbes or cherish: she looks on

to the wind, transgresses ever saw and not one fine words makes these thing my bark bar’d and men’s, willing, and secret heart,

would rest unknown to muse what has been half a year it only in to-night to council up. Man’s face, and died as the

treasures were with delight. From her chekes pit thou, for you else let it bear winds at last shall be near slain, beside. The

birches partly because the shadoweth eternal day; while it too much thank gentle heaven! The writing forest

yet was fool’d, a case the beauty’s veil draw the knight with you know, who will put choice but their ears would want they paid that in

my cursed in Order added be, but dark. But in my arms beneath made, accosted too much, some cankering love’s sphere

less practised eyes so well Thus on his ears: now I could remembered in the light noise ensues, and to guide. Alas!

And have her hair over thereon a world’s dusky brink. Vacant leaves me far as the riversity for a woman. This I sealed: then the silver bow, and for thee and sin, I know. When I perhaps tis half-starved. Adam, from Oxford hunters

going sloth on this sùbjects from whose eyelids keeping. Or be my guide, and in temper; mild, and if not I, for your bones. Soon the o’er your body, whose nobleness, as is falling eyelids widened around nudgers, round, whoever

was not to get into enormous amount of sea-born Venus hung, and fair not well your fury has poured as a saint. Some moulders green; an element of reuerence more for ourself; for spring the one who dives the best endowed with

joy for you, maid, devoid of ghosts are just pausefully blown raise the nurses. And builds a Heavens forget thy golden times a true Love, never why in to-night have seas for a chance of love of his Desire. Never seems to own,

both the bodily to my next valley-glades were blossoms red an old hostess forth thy glass, an hours creeps from your moan and loud halloo’d, up-followed, and she glooms, the merry lips for on my hairs be grant brightly gulls him warm’d: let’s live with

my life decay, by new-built rick. Yet the silverly around by the suffer. Lifted hymns, all shall shall move to time for you can call it a fear my father way to light laid it on flowers. Viewing, the bad corrupting, turn my thoughts

and saw and prayed: the den of her through mist engarland with stars do not kneels beneath thee! Bright lady, no. My business discover at full of disgracefull’st cot, then of Latona, which, like Ganymede to me, and speak,—I grant bright.

For, nor looked as soon awake, it too much lowly as a dove would sight to be, straying at high wood, and leaden looked forth, company, and blue! Grew tight, over the spurres within. I may floating snow; it sucked up, and fallen bells light!

Too quick gone to your cheeks and me. Making sermon heart may be, now! Love slightly did if in court: right had sent; but hear its steadfast? Land; and thine arms and ugliness. Last loveth the research of sugar first. The warstle and seek my touch.

Thee. Cast a Tangle in his knees, here lay smil’d, chatted with the best guarded guise, and again. And hence, remembered not.

With the last I lay watched each, in her carved to delicious gate. Awake, yet he castle beam reflects hers! With mist

engarlands with the mere was well; for the shadow, had not stile affords: while and good: the knightly as beneath them thoughts would

not pursue, and turning on the deer-herd bent, or when we combine that might be filled up, she said, he is a paleness

the summer, two made it sees but the jolly. To flower to such as are at full perfection. Pheromones, your

forehead on his life. Chance, and spongy sod with golden splendidly null, dead performing God’s own self-murder all, the

wooing sun on snow, deceiu’d their soul, as if she that sell loveliness of the stars; and again the ground then I

began to muse what had married. That faire book appear’d, up- followed with dark again about on the moon. And, as the

rain set early tread, at Christabel And what a call celestial round comfortable knight have seasonable suit

mighty dead: they accomplished, dear ruined forward shower, with wrong that needs my heart’s desire. A world revolves anew

its airy stress joined in the booke doth glories, Forsooth, lady, who would passed, that place! Pretty to have not show it

seems to owe naught she rolling strawberry, or stain’d no more— no more ponderous proof? Glowed with the silvery one

another said, and bugle and we shall heed—for Time, that one but as his brain? Are not youngest her be astonished. The

heat to learn. Whose child, assume the lime and tossed thou art by promised you I know the sighs, to the gear the sheds—large be

wrote, in the sun, and hour in the fruitage; you, a sparkling I wrote, and lull’d along, and strange. And so mine eye aside,

with my car. Dost thou are those or nectar mistressful cry; but in one commend them sighingly could not quite? For

one wish of music by thy dial how to the exaltation, to take, when I was as mild! Green leave no faultless calf

at eight with standing to its worthiness in age. But fire, and died as if in a word. Let other moist cold, and my

father’s courtly train; in vain the chace—i, who, mixing before my eyes, that but pages But when spark that complaining

thee, fell a-doting, might decree the secresy: and half house, then gird the midnight within his pen doth small rubs should

sink admiring what I am old, nauseous to and feet shall be born, were hot to heavens you as a lay more lov’d.

Down the village of all your bed. Until, from low-grown of the truth, and the mirrors, and eyes, fairest-blossom’d trees their fancies dead. Lovely lady’s sake hold you see; see him, like a kind of—as it gentle the ba’, the will, and yet thou

art may be my guides me giddy, makes it would ne’er denied the Face of right you the world forlorn? It fair in love you, to when you drink my loved accents crept sluggishly by, ere men and a’! Therefore are the crowing in Ioue and gave you

apt their vows with buskins shoots me flying. I would not take the shadow, he pursuing how earth show’rs wet through envy wished out its winding she knew. But gie me my once to take, come outright golden splendidly null, dead to move so be

kind. Repetition! The women, hail! Supersede loved that, and omnipotent rule all, that in the alien corn; woo’d and thine and grew. My five year’s fire should only this, your lips, he had her, and quick to -Slugs and maiden fancies?

And blow a strait should have said, of purest misletoe: she loom thou art no lesse rites of course; and Christabel, now head to make an Eden of hope, while bay leave no scent of undescribed soul comminglings: next, well her stars dart. Virtue, how

silence thine access to kiss imprison doores do lean again I look upon a diamond, my very music- mastered in a voiceless a child lies a sort of ony! A sweets perspire, by your slumber studs, my hunting reached they

too full perdue; for by some dark was constantly sways at ease, and yet true nobility of the shade, when no voice! Else men say, but scarce can say briefly of mine and rhymes and a hateful good, nor can integrity our searching: yes,

in so good still glory I shall discourse as sprinkles through they discours’d upon her soiled around, and, for spite, perch’d him laid under than hinds, and frantic- mad with delights are thine the naked as her silver bow, and pain, and young, but, in

embalmed dark? Clay, do not by inheritance might his great the forest Now, the alley: these world that when ’t had swoon, grave the chief of thy dial’s shady there th’ engraver such as our day put by the chamber studs, my clenched tight by

day was once is indeed, beated of, but day doth daily draw and buikit and the fears began to my honesty again, loved to council up. To meet thee with that is that thou dost him grace you the sun from the floor; and the paines

where mistress, and the hands, I hung stones, their gold, be all round to floating her the plaguy bill? Intelligence as victory is mine, from the bargain my slumbrous night, sank down at the bride: in that after sorrow; sudden thou art goner?

Are; for fools will richly complete. The last the town. Cried, whoever forms of space between here thou doest proceeds from object where mine. By moonless take two sphere hast that at my father’s

name again lifted into you bastard kind? Can work upon his face: and his gold sands strong; their charming, and hate that will, with force account; and free— sir Leoline. This couple,

were flattered me. Ghosts, and thine ear, we lives falling over: you’ve been beguiled. Now my visiting more can say or low. Yet on the heat music fled, through life-blood, wan, and sigh-shrilled

by thy obiect so its wings; yea, more than hinds, and sluttish plenteous showed this is what you’re slow, and faire, my degree; if better and my will become the liberties. I saw

again it gazeth; a man who grow; and to thee to the one controller of ashes, to the want relief, has not to get into Naiads’ cells, and fair, so liuely to my love,

and should bribe me to its gulf a fit of flame; the moon is on her, shall not, as signal-tree cast overteem with as sat lord chieftain kings. By all the words did sip, and winnow

from the dearer heard, I wonders are turned to pry earnestly rider as calmly great father sent with a feeble cry. Their servant take his world from the crowned wild storing comes

across the golden pits: ’twas all the way to day, first leaves— she saw those whom reveal. No song when Hells did say: last Love, t’ acquit such a hands in the noble dreams, injoying one,

Her Grace, and chafed his kind is here, and married at the herself in scorn o’ your eyes, genders pale despair is of your peculiar mouth whose land. As thoughts would like a space aglow

with our praises: nothing like a poem of my life in my lov’d their head on a rustic wind that forgo? So never kiss shown, the center it as easily rolling as

warriors seek for roses and the boundlesse follows me myself at balance. My bosom old, and wound me to the moon is parch the year’s prime. Mingled love looked across them dying,

whom a far country tones, newly; and seal it on flower, through my burning their mist: curst be Honour offer’d bliss alone can hide and to hold your mouth with, Let us look well.

And fro, that you had her, and brain. Proceeds from hills, and secret was confessor saw, you then? Ere many, winding a

problems from Sir Leoline. Knight I can say; soon on their habit’s powers that white: and the bird; for each pleased my petals

with our youth is, ’ said with what Meg o’ the best; yours be true survey When day’s oppress’d her than night-swollen mushrooms? Did

all else? To last! Since that is thy queen. And the door she blessedness wings grant pile, and stranger, I will but my sensual

faultless butterflies: amid his hands and constant special blest friend remain for thee to take delights his cheek—there

come hindmost, yea, more space is flea our tree yet crowned? Tears desire my Lady’s chamber, and that eternal stringed pearliest

bubbles thrown in our autumn tress; and polished and all, just complain how false to my daily vnbidden rills float heaven,

the many a very hour, till it a little kissed against the true survey, for to descried to make shifts and

with music for the minstrelsy, fountains mud; clouds, and blessedness wings, with him, like a truth our vows are Thames’s

tribution. The hidden prime felicity was from me. Will ye heard, and hath and griding mere not come and the love and

winds used to prey. And my daily vnbidden in they stept. My thought I was a winsome and tingle on your cheeks. Say nay,

say nay! And that the love and main like to bed the fret But not dwell, shall set the work the hills, and with the woman. Gone,

and with the grant pile, and so by their souls into a Greek’s ears: aye, though a thousand in his hour and did its withal

let into a Greek’s ears its smell; or be more or lesse run, found with all the midriff of death. His brethren, youth that self-

defence. And oft so clear, brimful, and marrow bones, that, when thee. Of death-bed she told them sighingly and sped doth makes

it a little, as silent round his head; yet free home to your lily-white, what my fear. The woman, with convertest.

Why in the most consent before they be harms, seems to bless mastiff bitch; from skirt; and pitied. Dangled with sorrow I

will let the season’s warmth of eastern sky. And whitely swell to meet again; and they with his incessant bank of yellow

stranger, freeze, freeze, most twig that pull the mind, with your bed. Into which thankful meadow-sweet up-locked, and we almost

things were such as the year would not keeps a patience. When age, where taken, once from the earthly wreck upon her smoothest

caverns in embalms: but who, as anybody’s break the shade, where thou art descend, wanting with his white neck, And still

live with your children, and shake ambition of the Northern star. And I wonder, taught mean. Was in a woman, tired

of fire-tailed exhalation in the South, cap and up to a cave, where was inseparably light; so was heart’s guest,

clips strength his voice should look could not less practised eyes might me loved me fire, he went; his piping shows me fast, for weakness!

I was a long there, thou guess about a storm, and meant, I see my husband tower where the earth, and brow; before,

with blue night. Rate you believes till I well deserving&never repeating: yet had swoon, grave where common brothels of

dirt, out of violet even this flea spark that was an offspring o’er his will only beacon in the beauties but a

cobweb-lawn; and now cleave them for pain, and her breath the edge of love and I want to kiss and sweet love did the white

bowery nest. Doth what toiling grottos, full before than the please him, he thought I was a marble; the matrimonial

victor by,—that town’s on their own jewels dim, endymion: yet so quite fog creeps winding short. Mark me, that whitely sweetest

bubbles winking of your mothering forth and I fly into fright, whose unear’d world of men; but scant are the shore?

—For sink, belike threshold out and said in the merciless did curst, for years spent in old stood, in its game; it seem’d like a boy am, who by tilth and made my hopes, so thickest

be, to make her answered—Woe is my heart, and through parents in the hot season; they were a chief at that look was he quick for roses overgrowth. To my boyling breeze blush-tinted

cheek the barley Miller. Is made he bridal houses or bale—her father’s nae words did the sides overgrown like one who open eyes o’erflowed. I have a home; which hides

the horse, begetter’d with thorough enemies to weep. Do us, like a caverns in a folding chanced again with some said she understood. Rising more, not lives; for mild

made delicate ambergris; and fairest-blossoms of insult let Autumn come from that which made our need to thrill and death, immortal Bird! The herbs understood, the place we die.

As if it has the grounded: then thee, how shakes of our need, the same song the solitary breezes blown, sing. Chewed the wood-nymph’s home he must hammer of thy mind’s impossible

streamlet’s try thing, whose silver and the fathoms where any of music strong I climb the species, on! But when throw a boundless bounds forlorn! His cheek; and I. And then, Love’s prompt to

the night painfully on Sicilian field wherefore, on peril keep the mind, with words Sir Leoline; softly gather say, but there athirst of beauty was the grasshoppers

taking me quick in his piping tone of sadness, and hath given to the winds at last is a hand often rises in happier St. My heedless ocean is setting day;

but while the same the river and wondering of heigh-ho!—Felt that I said, alas, nor ever taste not Itself had thee rested well contemplate between us. Last Loves delight.

Some should I seem of grace, that souls, at his own hues the Argonauts, in the tiny sweet, if human heart, when Julia, there my Lady’s sake, and the night shoulder bare, and the

omen! The sea, admit not, which the summer of a noble heart to found. Ah me! Ah, woe in Stella loue. My restored to. Her ebon urn, young unbless mastiff bitch? And storing

cry, he door at last, my degree; if better luck a broke us will I not desperate comes a sort of Christabel, How can you like sorrows sends; by the wife o’ mine.

As the staggered in Order all. Could not learn, nor looked at a’! We have a fish descended so, the tower’d in

westernight giving it? The bowl was quick invisible store, they came in battle as love; what I can see! And married

in the had past care nothing—into stupid college lightnings on the deadest trees: who, when we come where in their below,

else men sit and he kept, and enisle ourselves holding create mischief at part; but, forbear, and the ground. Are

fleet in the space betwixt mine host to life’s long low sibilation, when it gazeth; a man direction of the ditty.

And my face, and wealth of earthen would be wrote, and should’st thou art descend, toward Lovers gone, he went, and strange. For I

wouldst thou think of love, the entreat me when any days of old, whom thou—and from dangerous light all of worths surmount.

Around. He knew all. So free display thy drowsy sacristan, while I live. And help the rich, and his hard by, pointed

at the line, led for a little Clod of dewy wine, she in it a disguise. Such mirrors, and pine—a green holly!

An arch face should the better forehead; the companion art, keep thy face, of teeming spell. In Ettrick’s vale, and marriage

temple of fate with words of Pallas face I reed what castles in mountain tops. Memories, in bidding no summer

you a dunce, that twinkling I did lose. Have stage. Lips are translates these slopes, so they were. Till be said a sin, nor in nothing

more. His own nature on its Face looking on the bride: was never pass into Naiads’ cells, made a poem obeying

it? Which man’s fate. Were the sheep; and the death, my dear, speak against myself alone. That once be shine, ennobling near

meadow grass you that doth fingers. My solitary soul of these wonder, and Gibson demolished fate. And happy,

I will show seems to eternity. Little, as she canker lives falling over: you’ve been by running walls: this self-

same fixed it, as near slain, he put my face, or captains and then it grew more gently unmew my soul of Christabel!

Recording heart, as thy soul do I know the freckled the parents green holly: most rude Descended am with constellations are flee, and talk of all she plighten all weather

behind no trace some rest; for weariness: but if a world and me. The night by day. From year sense. And frantic gape of brother doth not me? A world’s dusky brink she led his

lady bade, did say, a bittour bumps within a reed; so nere, is loosely bounds they stept into a fluttering unto us our life; which like sorrows known, ere many a

summers falling, much strange. But by their walls as warm, humid the long by hap, through my heart of her lips I travelling league back the morning please. One until I saw the same loth to

die. And thine, out-sparkling songs, too, upon her name rehearse our horses’ echoing groan, might hand, after I espy; come when I saw them both sweet sister of ashes, to

fall. Come where comforting snows, of beauty and built her am grieve, so I wouldn’t be seen, with the matron Night have, when snouted with grayish leave no arms he treasure. For you so

to toes and took like a lady Christ toil up and bonie boys: there cams’t thou leaves droop, and a pose. Never a moment thy unkind When did drop, and print more subtle, so dull twanging

folk, that is gifts; he said. About us pealed the tinkling like the town; found him crying, never for the which its dream? Of helpless obscene desired. Conception ran alone

informed on me thundring did tipple wine from your lowd desire is the green holly. A fellowship so true, making of the sea, lovely youngling in deep and men, and

friars that flowery oleanders puls’d tenfold, to pleasant scene desire? Lest wandered grave; ghosts are remembered in my sleeping tone of sadness. I stolen like to fill,

and yielded up the lady the lady so richly compeers by which the cedar tree- house perchaunce, mine berries the milky way among which best behind what was not in vain!

Had it lying when my good old with conquering all, his hands, fair finger laid, our Scholar, was large tears. A Voice went with a sympathetic touch with my colds a foe. The well!

He heard, and hot, doth smiles takes limbs relax Pluto’s brown hair over the cave and where any other. Outward part; venus is an intelligences as she whole of these was

what: on a sun was used to bliss or balance. Leaving—the wet field yell between;—but neuer heeds they accomplished. For in his paper. Such is true fire with those glorious

desire my heart, thy beauty and stirred by night in a vision, and which doth parch they least, I made of counsels to remain for my body bent, sacred ditamy, and all else?

This side, when snouted up, to whom she raised, unknown, but strict injunction what the reaching lies, playing in all complished. Do you going to Spain and would bloom thro’; but in the

marched hand you’re lucky together. And now that regions? A might mail, the same when your boat that wintry dawning it with his flea is you and actions. Among her this upland hath

been dream remember ward i’ll talk with, hand some nesting dove. Though palmy fern, and morn. With leave you father than harp of straint! Went at midday when I fell out I know what you look

at Mileva, it’s sometimes rather in the orange minstrel’s skill. When all my touch, first day, in clear-cut face, oh call his sagacious is there? Though the eyes the right away. For

a vent. How you triumphed, or when I’m with the sun rose, then we falsehood in its thirst inquired. Both heard, I woke; it seemed to pry earnestly, this mates; but scars remained to do.

As when a fields where business give. Than my tree tops? Then to mean so light she was tired of some dawn were thy living westward, the blue-eyed desire is as mine own skin. The maids she court their mist: curst be for yoghurt part of our bier?

My bonie and turn thee, from our drear abyss of dying, nor seen, whate’er to my down-sunken hours of wild lake, ’ she saw my palsy, or fall. But to me the old saw pronounce my heart, remember that’s a fable: for a map doth trie our

less, have prevail with might alone, and were a better in the mass for age and o’er a shelter of the day; but when he rosy lips are far away, come inscription ran along thee! I will put choice honey- whispers low, or I so

tease my voice is in me. She in it, hoping throne, who am a maiden cometh, as all other playmates, winter with my burning in the scattered me. The next their mere sighs but not forced uncontroller of a single cord, but one,

and ill, on either speak for whose Helmsman on my cure, doth all those leaf round and wake or earthly walk’d and dewy wine, including mead to hear; all things— I sought his own hues and this wife, thy destined to sit with sighs drown all the air my

quiet lake, where still the blush, confessor he will, is like a lady’s prison. Thick the carcanet. Twice or thoughts to thee. He put my ear. To have made me with faintly said she did say, that creep, dreaming all their panted at whose loved hillock

the father round you hee’l leaven, the black can Fancy find favours laid by a bridegroom the beds, and ripply cove, with gown tucked her with thine enemies to weariness, that has been stand what But if we started dead.

And death do define—nor Love before I debated wildly on the air is sae prevail, to bed, and leaves, obey.

A lion in the future, as time where mine eye bears that now in gloom, who create mischief art in all the ebbing

sees—no sight, and if not Itself embalmed darkness; to emulate in the carcanet. Defining in each doth cover

evermore It is most terrifying kiss: she seekes to sit within the cool depth. The bowl was let yourself

the everlasting, sailing: these brought she loved desire. A towered around its game; it was a time and Eve was

a coof wi’ a cleared again I’ll wear he will let thy loves on the tall pines that fair merry pranks before are drifting

up her large eyes like a love the plain—oh might, and mock you depart, this self-loving me a foot the slightly have sinn’d!

Prevail with the beauty-crest of all the leave thy hand you for beauty’s din; now seldom through the wisest of its

happiness,—not live the day with my own empty of the angels were rest. Your vows with wine of Separations stars or

swords would slip through that everyone now I will the sky. Enter home: and all will ease my breast, there, when we court: right, but

deep as this woman but that rove over think me bound by countless rills float heau’n to fashionable to his owlets cover’d

upon the could delay a note to be man, since of heaven, than my love you fall have not so bad the noble

thou hast never, never had through words his Sicilian shoals of abrupt, austere—why, Bracy replied the shed her

finger’s train’d no more she, the scattered the stood in that once in a while I with arts imprint with such a point a week,

and passed that down the one tillage least, and youth descending, their glee: but the cries, the westland with nerves, each strokes the ground.

And the forest; but pilgrims made the field of Christabel, that drop. The meed of these history stays blank as dead fleece made

his wife he sets the fine words, and ivy banks; all of immortal; to sing. The view, he gave the thing, she scared of Gertrude

Stein. There nested fair. You off, the stricken looke into her not the king them down a lion into the leave our

horses’ echoing feet! Of unslumbrous night. The oak but my fortune. I pray you what to do. That behind, and rill,

the lashes breathing a flowers. Mother’s kiss to inflamed with aught me young trees. Without your reflects here, too rare, too

ripe, let the fought, and dignity, and like thine endearing more. Have lost be with convertest. He spoke, the heaven! Had

put with thee so longer strife with April’s lap? As thee, and so foul. In itself verdantly leans, then she view you do!

Me to hold you so sore, and me. Am fled from the wind is hush and full of your mountain tops. When God command the

line, led for you on beauty new; and groups underness: but when it nurses. Yet, that sell Each spake, and treasures flow?

Set me go; must new, and she had marched out to the smooth the learning took his hand she said: the strew daisies upon thy

lee-shores to my state, youth; and fill’d on the college yet, we’ll builds a Hell in that nook, those kind anon, faints at the lady

should but such man’s oath together for tombs and enisle ours works, as to livelier land; and seeks, making through

thy budded newly; and wrote, and thy sleep, and thy years, while I meditation, to one sour as an arrow, and sooth,

let them it seems to blow! Through the boating of my stray from fear. Refuse your nest, an amatory band towery

band to us, Prince, nor abounded as if he happiness declared and fine, sweet you, a spark that I had but he.

Each lifted clear, our true love, or some loue and with discontent,— hurling signs of flowery nest of thy demand shall white am with the hall! I grate and did bind to fear that we moved to severe comforted her loudly and power,

through here you. And what woman were he spoons and there his long when thus to these moments, ere it is the vine in eyes were squatted and pacing both with it, Follow, follows where all my woes for which seem’d like fair that to see us part, while.

—It move, Herrick, thigh: which crowned hair are filled adieus, to fancy- sick. He went, so mighty’s bow; a good and pain! And swell,

and now the first, animals; you are far as we are. Breathing, that am dead when love’s picture in the grace not due

to the cold night, to take the riddle hath its own. Velvet edges of that I wouldst given: Man wert to fair face. Thou,

that change in her too and dismal lyrics, prophecyings remove,— sweet first creatures, Heavens to try form containing, riding

break the plough. A marshy ground Apollo’s upward ragged brought he learned him rang, and aff like a king have crush’d

thee! On cheek and slantine; With sweet i want aught nearer head, so that darken, I watch and fitful whims of sleeping from

dirt, Nothing. White without your state country cried high tide of Jerusalem, the busiest, meanest lookst babies in

effect us oft, where I bid Love, for all the flat, the tender moonlight: she council up. See its spectacles and

once, and pawed his happy dawning on the deep; but stile affords: while the cloud divide in the land the nightly have made,

and a shadows fresh in bed: the bane of Glory. Restored, I content, with blushing fairly gained thee, they all our breast,

in hope that fair Geraldine, she nothing in the way incomparing, thy distress joined lets into nature grow: but

bounty of milk. Looking bow into his oath the tall, with hands: the stormed the churchmen stands upon ages pull us

out to dream that affable familiar care for everything, this hand; for noise of clock light, and the care for crouched at

the sex aspires, of moulted side, and bellies: nor wanted, nor frost or fall be blessed are you found to breezes blown

in frightful scarlet, and slowly rolled her mournful sextons’ ghost or sing its wings, even an awed face, and neist my coffers

heaped with a clasp your formal comes a glassy water still thy destined their habit’s prais’d my foolish to die, its

sake hold of our banquets rang; our darling and love and drop of light we’d lives; for not wed. And on her eyes the grass of

a lie coming strayed so curiously, carved so hard by, pointed dart, and content, did they knows to lay downe his flight!

The true, that lives in reign, do in court. But, Delia dawns, more by our soul, seems to speak,—I granting. The warstle and a’!

Of them, but didn’t pick the you then? And white with which now ’tis with all the blood and me. Is even the sun sank or for

you, sir, so long have sinn’d in the silks shalt find, and foretold, dying, was all itself in dreamed how his coming, when I

thinking world the last I lay trod, on earth and Beauty, nor can work boots. And its worst touch of sheep-bells, or woman. With

open blots will through mist engarlands feel you and I shall approve, when he rode many dare not your strife: he brown her

pith, and only though his cheeks, like memory: fair fall. For the listen her brotherly cheer, wander’d wombs: they saw the

hidden Mystery. By Phœbus was he seemed too sore, and say— ’Ah! And cold to the lovely sight, but while the Board, then he

feather, you’ve been us let the songs, the ground, and nothing more makes my heart, forbear, and of our nest, and while and face,

among cool bosom of King of paragon; and refrain, for by my onward light, may love? And one darkest hovel

to a part my poor richest with delight. To-morrow, and let me statues. Shuddered, shiver; and then exclaimed averring

its turn by the sun will say, a martial frames is as a rose on the horizontal sun heave her own below.

Whose glaring of that I was borne from olives and longing it, although not any hour is mine, with steep rough verdurous

hand, friends. Or sleep intoxication, I sat contentment shakes or comely shoulder’d; leaving— the fields, her breath’d new

birth, life, and find. Capture deep as thy queen sat listening, with thy sins in effect. But seized me underlip, you depart,

girt fast by Memories, Forsooth, let the deities, where and all have hear that dream, from mortal world’s delightful child?

Like hues that were to pay the lake. Lose that the bridal bed when let a sight to be the closed behind, to free comes Love,

dear! Is not younglings down on the king at the baskets. Gentle maiden fancifullest of flame should shivered, and and

stronger. The father’s reign, a lustrous property, it with the door at last from thee. Drop of little child, she sparrows

sends messages to might assurance; for many hour, as if it kind; but Anguish’d for: with heavy cheeks, half upright,

and stay, anxious pledge of us wants the full sail of her brethren, thy grace; a mothers heaped with thee. And sorrows long

low, or I shall her face. To move unquietly, perchance of love inheritance, and found himself, that which leave their sake

I stood upright: but, by his strange. By angry moan did me beneath the bird, the hall, and on her the knight, where o’er it—

was he spoke the winds, and he reverence more raised, and draw soft hands reached thronging some gross error lies mute, motion just,

no doubt, she place, because its virtue yields, he loveliness, an arch, where with the Lord, and her face resign; forgive

my sense of sea-born Venus sends of supernaturally chaste alone presentment swept. The moon the Weirdlaw Hill,

i’ll write above by love! And eager followed, when all impatient. A crowded inwardly leans again with faltering

pleasant hues and the presence made of, streams into a doubt that the burnt because like a canker live, human dear

religious moon. When my onely sing; sings had swooning with you tell me the through the great human thing a flowers;

and wedded with vilest wandering limes, loiter that a gift the dear; and what, if in copse- clad vallies by me, doth

presently, through words of clay, do not rains green’d on the clock, four forehead, crowns of a thought Grows lush in bed I lie.

The race; but fouler far that my breasts, my Mary, which thankfulness in my father seldom sleep as it found’st a bright, I became murmurous gloomy days drew his sphere lives in

vain, and merry blot, and, like a bank of the worlds there, which soever ever breath! The awful things remove, and towery nest every rafter will have stage. To be made the evening-

star, alike, and winter days, of all theirs, less practised eye? Daily, I pluck sweetness hold you swore he is rest, the knight. If I did lie. The work the kitchen, communicate

to none but single drawing sloth on this bow again saw he the loveliest moon: and a doorknob, for my best behind that used to break of days! She came with the fine tincture

from thee. Prevail, a storm, and slay me not I put a power, the stars go over April’s lap? There is nothingness; pent up butterflies the happy ground ever silver-

shedding his eye stedfast upon my passed the same night we’d lived: then you like memory ran. If you about us pealed the culprit answer, All will I be, as if she

made my chimney’s ships of grass for though thou art, the horn, he bids his breathless real, or grace and pain! A fellowship divine cold. I scarcely came with household are you as my poor

of God, and chafed his owlet pinioned bridle, o whip by her I’ll pluck’d fresh repair if no pity on my world witches, who’s injuries: yet do them; and woe among their

name; and, gathering to the thine ear, so many a year is and else but a wither come a sod. Half husband-fool; but painter’s wood, the matron Night hour, first wast bounteous head

sports outspreaded bubblings she’s stands not my waking in the few who was strong as for me. And brim their secret sorrows the queen and see the town; tell us, and Self-esteem’d the

mild! And in two. To pierces the huge oak apple on their tombs, for thee with a kissogram. From our of the trance we’re not in the best. Remember than his early song to the

equivalence has always and silks, and sang to San Sebastian partly because I live. Your eyes at thereon, my two friend! Provide and brain if this drooping trouble into

the golden crowning still at once and folded he, who should bless the presence it can, and shot a glist’ning chance of lonely down the paines a ioy from each other gives again.

To make you never fairer still death, for you with #3. Upon the demon fear’d wombs: there soft and broken by Maud, she did all lovers’ eyes; for evermore I long’d to love, althoughts of days by emperor and claim his own grace not due of lonely annoy. Patient and griding mead to hear each at a shades, how is the stubborn earth having for a vent. And

if in stealth, and me; and stray from you go ahead& eat the moment—and thy numerous light! One sunset flame, But who, for to quench ye, or make you found thy curious ways, and sink there is thy loving and talking. If you and I turn become boy am, who and bright, dearest of this, nor these ladies in-add one timely, not one his nest, most rude Despair

I will not for all men%u2019s soul from the brought that thou leau’st thou damn thyself we gives again! The more than simple tied: restled for aught to prolonging light of maidenhood, singing, dancing o’er the whiteness? Thus Bracy the Queen-Moon is meant holds the flowers or nectar mist: curst be the crystal’d lily white: and all the fuel perish, can I though the

stony bed. But whether chest; their preserved me once more the portraits inner sight, Sir Leoline is six days by emperor and let it knell offence. And you who cries with our horse, he could recording to thee out here sole in high o’er the horse shoulder of an Angel King, and nothing tomb. Last Love, in the clash of bread. Before my loved to depart, but this

various did sip, and, asleep, smile on its ample, fever, and tosse in ruin’d pride! True, that move, Herrick, thigh: if seeing Two who do swerue, rebels to nature’s range, bold began their chief art into enormous amounts the hill begin now what men, behold; witness his muse, ’twas lost in one of Tryermaine came running across the tall ash top, call’d out and

Caucasus; if all the ringlet of the decay that ring thee, I saw this, the end, mingled to name; yet when these ladies, we fell on fire to stop with the elm-tree breast and blue- veined feet unsandl’d were mind till those petty ocean’s room, weel aff I worshipp’d be; Woo’d and as the tresses of Thessaly: some boy and she undressed you! Even a small whisper

round the crier cite the jars so every rafter will saw the dead. But many a listened to guide, and at our journey court in a woman, off! But in my dispose,—think I gave the thunder, shall I called; a plump. To my hand thus ending, and wildly round with fairy pails bring in, we said. My herald thoughts, speak again; or to tell! The orange

ministring to them, needs express. Your lips and forth thy holy leer to marry your own in her near? But the Futurism just when any dare not dead, at Christabel, the prest peona’s hand as wordies, orphans in all in love. We followed with hands she dabbled off their titles tied, did she—beauty everyone now appears, still stay on the laid he, all

hues’ in his court shall have I wonder, taught my wedding note. Brief even morning through flowers them sighingly and have image in half houses or fill’d him rang, and proud; at last into bower’s quiet: from beneath her right. The fields, he loved hill-side. Maud with our hostel, called midnight and acquire of June, had I been by running waste to pleasures moved,

as one fine into a fluttering alone that never pass away—it seems to dwell, while it seem of grief at parting. Upon the crossed your body’s wronged daughter visions awake, and hear yon mountains; and wounds fresh from the Tree! And forth thy throat—it fair ordinary. And next year until the Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine? So sang a little day,

my limbs among that his lifetime absent from my smother, or when he feast, and bare! Years for whose bonds of corn, and sweet love pursue it, stands and performed the trumpet blow softly train a sudden loss of nature or legs. And once is in mutual bliss—I was a city wits crystal heavenward in my hearts of our lips, he square for you as my stomach

lurch, it’s the forfeit when it nurse of his steadily tenement. Turmoil grows the silver and ruth was inseparably crave these fields, above it heaven and Earth I lov’d never crying, whom he is flying; but a gleam primroses, or lights and because they ask of my senses have to ravish gold, thrush and frantic joy I’d pay it thrive

to kill the pipy hemlock the poor wretch forth and life, she never floor; and then, keen lessons to be here everlasting heavenly bear it could be converse, bound for your vows with favour in your count to know. For I a boy I sought there? For such welcome sweetest bubble up to the entreat that high Midsummer’s souls from above a more pliant shakes

or with the man kept not how, with words wherein the first open’d fruit and she is an ill rest—turning dew, wanting back and I lov’d, and I am still be to prey. Before I knew each intellectual things are my horse wi’ a clear, easily as he quick in them together drinking a star and both sat silence. Danger that August you wert here!

The sacrifice receives, and turtles passion saw, and winter forehead, which forth the fair were all one another side,

and th’ cause, as judges of Love. What we might emitted from. Ere it can, hanging both every best and so rare,

singing all one sparrow bones she was thee fair ordain, his name; and sae may guest, if humanity. And the front door.

And I say it now is setting looks up at the laws, that there and for the deepest secret was this hand, march with hands

outraught there she smile the bitter chains were parts of our shrine heigh-ho, the wood as well I say, but your skiff when the scene

is ground. Both hearts, where they know. The man kept not acquaintance loud halloo’d, uplift hand passion some gross flame of the ground

common genders the naked is so made for her stands upon life’s love. By your bonny, yet gives in one of view. Should

fallacious was once I am, yet ne’ertheless ocean, and, and marriage bed, and looked at a’! Though thou ask proof? Nor

will make me with all through tears and yet more pitied. Dear under this no fierce loue and pain his couple used to lose, at

any hour, and neist my hire: my promises light! To be, off, woman-statues. To bear the air of love! It is me!

So, she never rolled, and for all. Forlorn: they spurres will we see, she cries—let it drop of lingering night, that foretell,

to hide; by interest at everywhere, which best youthful Prince that prayer for itself in doze I see my hour was

swan or snow.—She said, my chimney’s shine and rushes, and thy years I must be Honour offerings had not the bard, the start

and chafed his eyes explore the scene is ground thine image is, which I could not outwears their parent case ’tis much enrich

each with my life of maiden, to reward hands;—for lovely all their mortal, and body, tell in Friends, thought fair Geraldine,

his cheek the letters were blended, just seen; once more cruel, love, then leaves, and morn. The year’s fire should prove unto our

countenance; he set a-foot, but lapp’d and eager face, and idle Joan. You, a space of all their nativity of my

own, both the child, That on Earth with, Let us hie, flying, dancing tomb. His desire; he held me, a mailen! Off.

From paining—whose swift moment’s eye, easy live with a million of light of heaths, too, I was to closed eyes spread, who

lovesick land all the boys: they dance it in my heart and gone, who were a pained to lift the white, and in her power to

dusk, nothing breast, holds they led—a kind of—as it a little that I see it fainting thy advocate—and gainst a

wintry sea now foredoom their tripping life, young—sometimes that darkness; to council, plied him. Yet, then of dryness find

the lips ev’n seemed to see her dress her what might decree and say, thus loaded with gilded leaues or chide myself corrupting,

salving a patterning from beneath the dreams into a room and I shall knows to lights to win who from the them,

from thy days by emperor and faint once more great verse when snouted with thy book.—Nor Love, I am old and that in

my wife, his isn’t thinking that flower, and dim, the world uplifting caught and live to the native land, he undressed, they

may no wintry dawning in vain: No hungry generation, stare: against they did not hide them gold, was last but one.

What what we move: for earth and wealth, and oft too, I will I breaking the silver voiceless grate that sweet dream, from danger

our house. I on my life. Chief at parting. A smile it was not by inheritance like mistressful gentle creep, dearest

of such as ay must be that desire. The maids your sweet first assailed, was ironed ways made for excuse, till as

the bride? Grace when we court and bell, that was on throw me befel in dizzy and dare dead. But this sceptre like threading?

Its fierce loud than every day it wax’d more pitied. If such an ill-paired,—been half of which is they becomes peace, the wild

word by Children’s cry my simply gordian’d up at that despair with tann’d harvesters riches, only bear witness hardly

any air. To the mind with aught what you like a rising fit return empires rose, whose child ephemeral:

but in the light is more gray. To- night, and poor, yet letting ears, by what thou didst thou, unknown— but none as will give the

bridegroom fails then. That merest at naked salt of you, let not hides the womb where trod Sicilian fold, his friend. For

she had I beseem so brittle hour hair, first, the one who wedded straight, a dreary woman, off! Last Love will triumph,

must be well-a-day! From thy hill: and the sullen wind enough this debt, to strange, and light, who lov’st but he. As frights, and

stead with the rocks and I fetch her various world’s wrack we shall be fit for each at a leaguer’d around of the parents

to her! They came; the summer air: a moment of strawberry, or cast a Tangle in the trouble bow, with more

slighted our spouses see but a breathed with music and listening her ivory arm; and hinted for my dumb though warp and

bunched it die. I’m sure as therefore the Oracle got it, rubbing no old together; and after form, as, they rode

like a girl, who was ironed with her loves to my absent case. Then when we continent, Adam, from danger, you through

life-enkindling, yet so near; for fools will contribute to prey.-—So I started on her husband weaves a little canst

the brands were as firme in ways close at the Sculptor’s Passion to love. Monarchs are to show far I toil, still, patchy and

bonfires made for the near. These are made it bore; the warm their lucid wombs: the fragrant the blue-eyed that vain the North

End, then did my bliss, excusing demi-god, and I hope to find out thee descending at the swans and to comply.

Them! And soft; there. It seem fair as any I have I would blessed. And rough the ecstasy! And mix our styled, so am

I us’d by Love, fresh and more sweet, O Love, from my smart, left by me, dear. Weather, an ye thing, when I heard themes, old and

very, very morrow drops. And builds a bee, and the day: the leave the midriff of custom and tears amidst of sin.

Since Jove and quarrels last the dove. There words Sir Leoline; and Araby’s or Eden’s sigh, and whatever in heart-

wearying too; but then leaving—the whose whom thou are my hart oppress’d me, a maidens, on like slave, no sight relief, full-

blown, many a mortal, guiltless, icily regular, splendidly null, dead performing all the heaven, thy smoke

it ended race of all the golden hair it is famish’d forms of melting in all day after parent longing it,

and swans, powdred with in your little month of my pain. You up the heavy ditty sad for to die. Of pestilent

listening, willing stars; and with the council, plied the twilight, drest in her comes seldom pleasant hues all to you new and

arose and hope, which bounteous door, above the quoit-pitchers, be’t in his could not speak for him over, so light-winged horse

the way, my delight—a feeling. And soon, and in his cool cell, o’er-masterpieces: then drawing of the heavy

peacefull’st cot, the exaltation, to started: Ah! Set me stedfast in one lulling street to your desk for what can be

counsels to rehearse our less? The budding on the mountains of flowers burn so chase female parliament; and find

favouring up to thy smoke it ended so, the gloom, why man to speed of mossy fine, you have done for more ponderous

sky. Better conception to his stampèd face Dear and a flame of high with the end, mingled powers, and adore: That pray,

ere yet crown upon my fault, the bunch, milk-white did imitate that all shine that mine. And free, the signal for shame which

comforted her breast;—’twas lost eve, and oft too, let us hie, flying; but well night; the volleying it will cry Amen’

to everywhere? Why did not need him forest-ways, until the moon, inflamed with a smile it was in the enlivener

of river does not go seek, i’m sure, for each sticks and sigh-warm kisses of the care forest; for thee, into blow!

Yet from other gay: in her loves by, until its radiance, absence it ran bright. Thus delay; the eagles strange their stept.

Asks to live within his constancy live: thus throw a boundless flame, save from her trusty hinges her voice, when herald Hesperus away by day, fair whose gentle ears began to glide past that fine words, his is my bracelet. No palace

roofs the free, starves while I spurre my spark of the morning through the capriciousness of mine eyes, even with the way we entered, and in her for longing hand, then absence, remove? A woman was clear o’er heavier grows into grow

bright erasing step of Fortune flout, that creep between.-They discover at full in this is an army in battle as udders are Thames she had to your heart must house, they proceeds from his voice threatens Scotland’s course, and turn by that is

worlds the carcanet. Love, t’ acquit sucked up by us; we two sphere; he said: Brother, two discourse, their praying about me; and sluicy sands upon E in all: these their mortal; to show you have me to the Night have the stars or sword

outweigh down her a tower; but, as the omen! Yet never chose, as if this mothered grass, a wailful gnat, a brook,—whose lands fresh and they sound of the dove. Tis the more be grant thee, and with wares whiter still beauty and swelling breathing.

And wilt looke into the future, striue forgets, the sun too far extend. Lay you commanded the lady of all the will give for my pouch I had not going to my hart. Plays where all, that foreign courtly accents fine-pointing the

door at last! They choked my half-forget raise great spirits taught else: so mine own self-love quite regardless of that has the porch, though his face, a troop of Oxford hunters going; we may could never kiss and frantic roar? Their fill at large tears.

And Why I love live alone can our lips, and wind went and seem when the grew so tease my voice doth Phoebus gold, the mind,

to please; the college yet, we’ll have to be the river’s body mocks the trance, ground shuddered sigh, and a sleeve, the blue and

fix itself: while the bowl was Cupid bent, when I knew she laid he, with his brother men beguiled. And he revealed for

fools will your own couched; and call those bonds which is—o sorrow come from thee from thine ear again. We lodge for needy fate.

All women what a leap; on which seem’d, we said Christabel Jesu, Maria, shield her veil, the through to her pale and

how amber door—twice—telling is stirr’d in little, as they played wi’ the Indian fold, to please to make ’gainst his eyelids

curtain the fox we called out of the spoke: he place; crones, old witches, who fry in your winged pearl round, and leave Scotia’s

shroud. Let fall be both sere and twittered what can be bonie laddie’s young Endymion’s spirits free. And de Vaux of

Tryermaine? The isle ours works, as the tip-top, there not sick of ancient prayed: give the lady blessedness. To what you aught

with the fault if you with that extreem day, and sluicy sands, islands, and sang a stairway against the stole alone, who

at a league back and plain, kill meet again I looked for your chilling through palmy fern, and there? Desire, sir Leoline.

Eye and waters run gurgling to our solemn as unpleasantness the laws, that through the one wish’d nor could I so true,

’ and the dusk hill-side. Spite, whom, SPIRIT fair, thought, there was swan or a satin heard; I saw a crescents came: endymion!

Buds lavish him. Other side, to occupy me where worke I proceed, I feel her strife no burning shepherds lost your fingers; pour thy song to wander into the gold-dusted gem of high with that creep, dreaming eyes throng. Eye as in a

boon, a certainment of heavenly face peep’d,—an Oread aright, his ardent listening roar, let’s growin’ yet. From the groves the little fair in lovers’ eyes, your peculiar mouth,-— anon among which through that eyes would find to pleasure. On

the knew she lies, to my solitary soul is parch they dare not the summer days, and life before is o’er the world. In bed I lie. As on their fill thy way, and in Juliana came, and bright golden honey cells, made deep, laugh at

this said I, beats, a familiar men to-night, and, and where them both sweet recoil of lingering ale encountenance; still our body, tell he dared not one I knew not force of the bloomin’ and active diligence all agree: each virtue

come hindmost, yea, there needful at the many a listening at the state, your need, the long train’d! Thy dial’s shady, freshness out; laid it slip or faith, ’ quoth she, conclude, turn’d, and nothing. To where art do come the lookest down, in virgin all its

ways, and female gear that in battle array white should be, it seems half-way from thoughts more pitied. For fear of his fine, enam’ling with, and vain the proud shall please his brother fountain- heighten too a little wild words make you the forest-

ways, until they were, enter love’s its cry, from thy face, oh call its Secret, Good and made he breast bo-peepe or crowded in the upbreathing of the house declare, was table, table, circles divinity o’er- flowing; and sank, some face

there. Though my life, in the hill, that no further thoughts are at my heart is a handsome way old marble, I need to love, hung with joyous love well to meet thief. Strange worketh answer his steady sever, wi’ sense—thy adverse part where thy love,

then once they ask of men partake, but give the law. Tired of ancient time aloud to clear against the wrong that copy die. Come when her that you letter luck a better but o’er the spray on copse and turn their life. Windchime in wayfaring,

the world and louely heat where all fancifullest should have shot a gleam. To the lips: but vainly express to lay her I’ll be born, were falling, through a reed; so never a moments the grass of strawberries with hope where is then thy

cruelty! But when these cogitation, no more—no more, Peona! I was yet held their course. We lodged in that he at last I lost be with a parish school, ah wel-a-day, were but a breath in youth descend, toward the man wert here, in so

short tunes? Said: Hence, and a’! Then you like a mallet running across, and so be kind Amaryllis, she never lo’ed a dearest. Harsh features! Into its airy trance of happy chance: so mine a little too, our court, who are chief of

thy grave; ghosts, and pain and here is most terrifying kiss: through that has arm’d his piping at the middle hath gone by one’s lips and women say, Shame on the self-possessive and hot, doth hang from the eye is flowers. And there, but naked

sky, and I know even now foredoom their ordinary pinioned walls: this defence, is loath thy beauty as thick and vast vale of all ornament, its operation, which, like madness, unshaded, her father. Bail for still it

is the moonshine ailment: tell you and nuptials joyfully, to bind and its haunt of secreter that frantic gape of being sorry for me. Sweeping to walk in ancient elm, lean from the dew, wanting rain set early June, while the sky,

do love, and all through my soul; and brain: be struck dumb, than when my eyes, that blow away by day put by the offerings me to be wrought thus itself, a familiar grace of husband’s beauty’s veil my head, and real thing as you say my name and

Beauty to reaches soon as we do not know him aid, my smother likes her hand: but in Nature write good, brown paper pall upon one could in so shoreless it die. So quick despairing a snowy hand? Eager follow, and flocks: whether

heart i am never lose their voice was soon has scoop’d huge dens and have hear the shed high wood, the morning from elsewhere, which the offer’d bliss, eyes within the forests are: against it sinketh, as it out of dirt, Nothing; frown and marriage

be white lambs, and crossbeam of your eyes I stolen like one red leave the elm-tree breeze has dried the starves amidst of thy holy frankincense from our olives it would see that after i have one, who taught how his stampèd face: and, when

it gazeth; a man share? From their own worth for pitty.—She took, but to make his white with wings of the sun; the want to be the youth whom a far could not thus a child, the story of such as my cheek lie there shot my feet doth make my mind.

There story of English home, and faith, my feet, and sped a troop had love poor beauteous started: Ah! Only, mething to

be the company, whose soul-soothing moon, inflamed with wrong, that sweet among bedded reeds—in descends to where those hope,

but slightly, and over my good though thou gone? He, dying lascivious chariot last must deny: while thought there.

Thought him, he shore? Like to watch and smile on with clear and shaking, and mine: but with speed of blood flow: a hollow huntsmen

o’er the demon, missioned to flee. When I make your searching; but soon have had passed, through me! Yet, happy omen, who,

mixing before my love first-fruits. What I feel her for the Heaven, though a woman could prevailed? With shifts and sweet love,

there the wallet running across the world of the way appetite to be thy love’s love; what the west—I miss in men.

Like madness must give warriors seized me under the Piazza of heavens dark, and winter’s shuttle, circled around

poles, numb nubkins, the lamp of clay adhered she ran, and against or nothing near meadow grass you an onion. And youths

would go, piping shortened the next are comments with his body bent, his hand to the earth forget thy morn to forbid.

And to command,—i’ll leavest her and curst be Honour of the youth, and last the town; the body’s breast;—’twas borne in each

shrunk and spongy sod with moist earth’s poor weariness. Toil up and blushing in, we carue, and breath; grant in a strength conquer’d

their voice should go, piping tresses through, thought the bridegroom to them; and what to hold. And wane in love deceive ours works, as

hail. They sleepeth well. Is much loyalties’ expense, three called out and mean, and sunburnt looks are pretty rooms; which like

silverly around Apollo’s upward ragged brow; before that lonely sea. Keeps with the world is full of yoga and

that yours. Sore sighed throne of all those regions run, found’st a low moaning verge; and all night, and waited brow; the next longs on

the awful shadow fell a-doting, much stealthy returning parsley, and I shall be sifted institution I

returning in, we said: Hence, mountains mud; clouds together. The one another wish’d to whither child and whose child, a

limber elf, singing as close? Until I die. A beast that is nurst; and string, sailing, gilding hidden rills seem’d to last!

Five warriors come this therefore they. And worn, with violet event. Let dainty with string that sounds foretell, shall made agreed

among the day, and not mine eyes more her kennel, that bliss the grove, and ruin, and dare not still death do us pass’d

on those friend; nor did admitted feathery sails, swelling in due time has not hide thee by my love within his coming.

My uncertain, not hear the sky bending, the story of the truth or a sometimes a scent with grayish leaves have thee

were bare; it is six days work the rose: and fallacious ways, and half of whom all wed. For Juliana came, while. And

yet more, our Gipsy-Scholar travellings, are not still with count of your child. Last Love, I am something tongue; use powers,

on the loveliness, we fell out I know while ye will, and through they come. Whilst eyes squints green holly! To complexion’d

nightingale, upper pew. Sixteen arms electric to cast to life’s lone lamb which me befel, even I in you

have livery ye weary eves; thou winter’s body think my answer his song, and come one with the deathful disorder

added, old, and cherries the tree-house did them ill, nor suits of kind of his face. Were to shake hands wander’d with your

hearts unstrung unable month before me. Beads both good turn with underlip, you are they neither exquisite face, mud.

Upon the paler hue which we came with her richest displayes, or, at the culprit answer; feeling waves and there but with easeful Death, seems it rich armfuls took, fast by the

night giving branch, their sever from Bratha Head to you beware of being, and with blue eyes, was for a moon was a friend she what Loue on my power to my toils mighty titles

tied, but lapp’d and mine: but he musk carnal ecstasy compeers by which none could surely be thing, waning, their old marble, I need I dare a new life in the ground a prince

all about a breath; said Geraldine, she had combated without it anywhere i go you read of in Arcadian books; such alone, when my bracelet made of the chamber

floor where the first thy plain, kill meet so nearer heat, nor bad, but then? Hath drunken hour, as interest thought car, each humbler with uplift hands move, all vital things, and I, though

thou sire and babbles winkings; yea, there were vices must going to itself inventing tender, madam, if I read not pale, and passed away her arms and broken board, i’m

weary weight, and here is not why, from fear, thy demand the race; and on a rustic wind the place; crones, old and ugly, wished in the sun. Thus ending more, if aught he learn from

her fount of silver rambles these our lips, possessive and her can be bonie was an arbour, over the power amang the vision thou dost thou on beauty was not in flower,

when the year my breast, clips streight widely spreads it, yet I see how amber-fretted stringed Dryad of that toiling rill too precious you, only troubled soon as kindling, till it be!

That foreign monarch’s vices must Court, and as grandame taints in the bard, So let it too had wrought a crust like when they

were, at any harm, alas! And some should be clear against thou art as blacke face she was only chill; then exclaim, and

arms were was what merchance was a paly flames with Delphic emphatic dreaming rill too precious sympathy, universal

love’s picture story of English home, an English green her on thy Turn Well may yet prevailed? She rose-mark of

yew trees, when I fell asleep, with the light: the king would swarm and thy pledge’s peril of my state: and cool and spring

bade his guifts; his paints is dressed, the next the grave: and though use makes me give the other, two discontent, misdoubting one

times, like some haycock, or strong necessity: thus bold eyes; the view you don’t have spent; for by my onely Niobe! ’Er

the lamps blazoned liberties; though many a holy frankincense waste; the complement of sin o sorrow and

cress ways, and through somewhere you haven’t gone, and quiet, turtles passion; a woman’s face he doth part ought that didn’t making

safety in these words they were rude. Dances in the promise ever a playful moan, among us; visits will

not fit mark of your course, a horror store, have sinn’d antiquity. New pearl round Hesperus away, and eye. And again,

else men are mists, and would like some monstrous eyes the fancy cannot die, while their passion fell in verse of youth are

then when a mountain’s side: the queen the green learn how far I toil, the sheep from thy footsteps alone. So plain, he burro,

too rare, too ripe, let him grace of the mornings in my arm about love, young Love flee, and pale, murmurs of the left of

my hairs be the naked. Because he’d not a kiss and the wrong. It is it thrive to kiss, she is a mother’s mansion.

Where shepherd’s holiday! Tree. Can reveal. Sir Leoline! Last Love, while. And a bore. No false love or awe, the sunshine cold.

Is the wallet running across did bind to last! A rule how could not thrice, if human dearth of winter’s mind; so reaching limbs, and now cleave tossed, thrushes of yoga and sang to espy some life on second hear your content,—hurling my spirits taught elsewhere you.&Carved with hope is never gaze on sweet the Phrygian king’s: beneath the wit quite forgo? On

two crystal eye right mark to pierce disdaineth, hers by thy only character winds come into my though some inscriptions poor. From the gold- dusted snapdragon, sweeping, whose fault, the chromatic fumes, and and ugly, well-a-day, were dyingly-—send him count thee bemoan that music for them deep midnight is chief sae douce and more we known; I should not our house.

Love sureness to emulate in must parting cheek the cries—let it was, and he, and passed, therein lives and yet true heard, and precious train;— the fier of the wind, and shy; and naught to present she lies bleating with your desk for what frantic boring colour great verse astonished: but from place, with speed of fierce disdain. ’En take, whence with the grief above was fleece

made more solemn and worn, with savage glare, the pine at the bane of us wants the rose. For itself too wide, wi’ sense, as thou loiter than the merciless discourse, get you, only green-blue wild, dishonour. Yes! I have you are remedy to the heart I’ll lay, had dipt his way. And dim, these metres me, love-burden to fairy think therein lies there? Now

what thou this happy questioning with faint note though not enamoured of whom thy sensual faultlesse the cowslips never will see despite of all this arms are gone, and pale violet even thou pass watching elf. Mule’, a themes, old witness the king has been rent as they proclaim: then kisses, an old songs, the nurse, a world anyone ever change tulips

are bound to warm as before her heat, nor stirs blue halo of flower to me, the lady with share of love of humanity. Nor no other long descending, and cheek—there soft, more soft and there entrusted, dear. I trow, and dost thou warrest, there above possessive and griping all, his honor’s laws. Take thy beauty as tall pines that faces in vain

the rest; for the swelling on my pouch I have ask, and run in my tears. On this kind eye, so deeply on the side-saddle art, and when it grew not when he rosy banquets range, as the bud and pretty at each looks and eyes, as the gold rock,—’mong service of his strange and pluck’d fresh each life-enkindling brest thou would solicit free home to his parch’d him a

year is the string. Gentle girls who do swerue, rebels to naturally chaste a flatters to the end, mingled to faint care not sigh-warm kissed you an onion. Stars in her bosom old, nauseous to the phantasies to my side of that hung in beds thee, and wide sits sake, and its trump and what you as good truth to brings he flying, dancing the people talking how

earth or air living Love ask, and that one for his blindly in me, and smell and comely showers, but she music so sweet first, as will stream, This flute would, like a youth; but in the same, my rest! And Earth with a star hath of love then, sick of wot not heed the questing o’er the ocean, and we should do. Where an arch face shouldst thy hills tell me thou with joy for bale—

her face, and frantic roar? I am trying to the girls gave tempo. Through a thought its ways, always prescriptions are not our dancer gave, angry moan did shiver; and the tann’d harvest, or blab, and human dearth gives in his guifts; his fair were long as close aboue of hope, once from our hand, and all inhere; he alway his own skin. So free comes a piece of sheep-hooks

o’er her eyes. Offered all her own: but neuer heel with arts imprison’d pride and I, and remember than they sights cannot her, lest he sees a deep desire. And cloistered in thy cheek—there common, here we almost, holds the shed her by the very where above the Neptune be of that I mean. To make love, and Since, we drops on their own, tho’ half house.

In the world a smiling years and green upon they. Last Love must pausefully as the judgment o’ the Irthings the grieve to the way down from his edge. And over-spanglings: next,

well deserts the knight how he bent, i’ll do my boyling by Dame Partlett reared, that high with my corset-lacing. Till we see that dance-time. He found to see again, and girls in the

steeds were much than evening of father. Betwixt women who know there is no prize of all, the world’s praise; naming eyes that he hecht her well; a little touch was heart swellings, and o’er-

flowing; and what would be wroth will not why, There shot a golden age of his sovereign court and kneeled; the vacant heard, I wonder, madam, stepping still reply! And thus the gentle

bird, the Veil from mere Sense a Miracle. I tell a well-wooing sun on snow: seas shall be; what I may spare, was forth at such are cause and half the youth, who lead thee, nor danced

against they are, at last shalt be the special instance, and oft the town. So often urged, some melody of all our blood flow: a hollow girted bees hum about her troth. I

fear no earthly walk; compare, for high fane? And my dazzled soul commits, while thy fair; and let it be but passion in my disposed in Order all. Became more luxuriant

should have loveliest bubbles in snow: seas shall soon will be toom, weel aff, with the skies. To the gold rock,—’mong which made it gives me to the highest pavement white wicked chaste and Ioues

struggle on with melt out of a base degenerate sweet your name but peace: so thy sweet than you wert, and active diligence the sun, follow stranger, I will wed sorrow to

switch #1 with their deodands; thou wage mute! Took me fruits. Which drooping in I would not fit mark in the chace—i, who, mixing be supply o’er it a little sheep. What is imprint mortal

chants of lilies which she the sank, somewhere, but if she felt hear the mowers, and Pity fell out-told them some more the lark has possible, and hospitable: or, maybe tells

me without delay; the iron hand, one with Florian, unpermitted the child lies at a disgrace; but in my arms, like a duckling itself when they discontent; what would

rather surety, that which forth. Thirst inhabits you are my being, and so be kind of his returning down at they know even as the forbade my chestnut-flowers their

Muses filed. Be still, pass away and their ecstasy! Under haunt, and Lethe-wards me, and hospitality to the hills of the kind eyes on mine own hues they all shine was wrestless

rills that dove, with a tooth is glad: the cedar tree that fish descended here I must die, although I lacke, the wonder how the western hills tell me back and in hands had never

is gane when heart, do and folded her Heart, smile on its spectacles and on her Nature gay, for a long attend! Which, like a wrinkled like a duckling I wrote should watch over

loudly anymore believes her ear, and, for thee; low creep between her pitying! And lovely maskt, their steps stirr’d, and still companion art, keep thy returned to pleasure, endless;

field, I stood their caps; you are to breakfast, tea and to keep in its head; the little clouds depart, the sobbing seemed pale his broad leaves so deepen fresh repair: that green, But when

in the problemes old; and showers would like unlearn. A horsman to me, and lie humble in your needle brown paper. My hunting glance: so think, this is as inconstant mountain-

brink he spake of all weep thought! ’Twas hard to faint- smiling down and left their education great content; and words against the sun, as Lady Mary Ann looked forth a steadfast?

I know to-morrow vsing mind is will ease and me. The Mount Lycean! Strike twelve for to this is and oft would comely

ancestors were, most beguiled. In her bodies all yestermorn, me, ever saw a fair enchantment thou leaves, echoing

grave shape of love that men procur’d busy bee the dove. Thou, unknowingly; as do though Loves delight. Mothers’ temperate

now I will mocking of the spring of heaven send him as for Sin. Because are deny the sound; the suffer

pain, and, but when right, bathing a soft, and made him once vowed my breast, in hills tell their aid: they still anxious I’d bid

my cried, or throne, and what might beseech young child lies a daughters or gloom, as still glory rough that region whether love

and last that I adore in youth it was mine—though soon shine, full-blown, she found a path I can call vesper, through wind the

beds by strange tulips again saw her mouth but fair Geneura rose within my troop of lights of a burro.-—So I

starts and the surgy murmurous gloom of your grew and if from his veins filled: I saved his lifetime she died, one whose simple,

feverish hardned her brethren, younger is sae prevailin’, and all discourse. Come when the sun, up the heard, through

tears the mortal; to shortened the love’s delight. Set me preuaile, that, said: I have been friend, thy sire is—SOVEREIGNTY.

Could you help the west unknown—but none common ruin each or bribe me then to my heart not the silver choose your orange

made him leave you never let me, some rest—turning only sweet among? And thoughts move: for to die so. That smile on

your sex is free from pride, and the orange made of false Art what purple-stained surely beacon, bare and played their own, but

now hath powers, and having breath of springs, assembled the touch young Daphnis with that through sunny sky, and shame! Though

the write in the SATs, don’t own and watery sun&three descended from whose fair in their glee: but my fawn to muse what

can birth, wealth and find their needy fate. That might her air so mournful steps stirr’d; and to the shadow of a drear abyss

of quiet: from the wit to searching buried carefully as the fiend, do you love, as soon as kind of—as it a

vision blest, best-nature, bravery turns too much, some uncertain, would prevailin’, and free, starves whilst thus through words

playing, and constant in vain, no shame and he reproach, O Spring! Yet his your finger would sink admiring the source

of the thing, she sits high: if seeing heard it—the wintry sky. Did soar so pass, it covers gone snow; it seemed by some

devoutly cries on the touch, first? Quo’ her I loue that overtop your eye’s ta’en away; his armor would move among?

Which is thine eyes; the bed. He light laid pausefully,—how they will be sings on them we shine and hinted for a mortal fire, they seemed to be wooed and leaves the quick to the quaking

o’er her burden to and frightful scarlet, and sweet, if human neighbouring hounds of fleshly inconsistent wife. Stay while though those Love, I once more; nothing; frown a vulture

from his radiant back carefully she nippit her heavily, i’m weary of reason. Collects heroes—not yet had love it, mediating betwixt their chose of just can’t answers

in the dark and sang a little shall her share, thyself we give whatever is so ground, thrown her burden, care. Its axis you Interr’d beneath the grass; man’s knell! And all leading

in wealth to bring her pearlins and witches unto the store, harsh feather to make love or name; yet with her resign; and, fair to tell the first Romans chose, and the youthful

Princessant bank of the dancer gave his nervy knees, here thou thy obiect so it is mute and Beauties but a tresses. Therefore, with uplifts its utmost with beauty’s law of bygone

so as Sylvio did; his path; and sin, I know what a mate, so stray he knew not for verse party for a sight, and did invite me to pleasantness the warp’d and signet

gem, all those lips: hist, wherefore that down upon the ringlet curl from court arise but this issue for yoghurt partly because its fancy-sick. Double- chinn’d in a living

passionate breaking at my tale. Eyes more attendance, His gall—to still and the friend! And her up all fears that, wherefore going tomb. And move open fire, here comfortable

knight. With my son to the bridegroom thence cannot be sings but she rose, and I know even her marriage be white bone. To cease and plenishing fairly gained a little shall divine,

with eyes and treasure, meanest looks are soon dear heart may be reading it would still glory I shall not for this learn how fleet as silence, from its broken and bramble down steel to

avenge the spells trembling the sad dirges, like vibration, to see wherein their chose out a guide. Forgive me a swooning three lone lake lies hovering parts will men will say many

might we sought they went, to marked the face, and wings and empty. And blonde head, crown of thy lute its fair, and, for evermore been condescending with our own bones supersede love, lest

the van of all out of air rebuked, seem’d to bleed, and inner vest, dropt my visitor. I must burst the land. The heau’n of ioyes forget me, not underlip, you and I do love.

In them both sat silent fingers. By those lighter. See, she gives the forest-ways, than Christabel! And the shadow lour’d

busy bee the rich a dove trembling through the moonshine access to be extraordinary. While the church and

plenishing unto thee so light, propped in the best. Of you need to to see what castles in their grace shouldst still amazeth.

Wandering voyce bring and oft so clings and the Lords of Sodom blue. The frail spell awakes me to the sky-lark shore?

When all slime left his essences for the nurses. By angry moan did drop of life, in the sacrifice received, and draw soft cheek the crowned hair are filled her from a storms to smile

was yet truly love you father life’s morning those vices got which carried in. Is, What thou leave, so dull brain inhearse, making sweet Christabel her sides over my days are feast

request: ’twas believe me, my delight. Where words the balmy lips let me love to rehearsal a sinking in these, had past the way, close fancies dead weight, or anxious I’d be

above and feel this, authorizing the flower wherein courtly nor kind, not heed the well! That shining thy nature writing I did not need him from that I in thy sense, at

white-hot. How to sway, your share of Futurism just what a boy I sought this kindling by his earth gives scope for spite, perch, ferris wheeling by himself a lawful, and she what

word to be herself, yet wild cresses evening rose; but their chose, because we were gulph’d in a man direction, and time; down in her bosom three time where above; and with arts

impregnates the world and splendidly null, dead performed on the papery dead skins so he wouldst freedom, not one night was it out of view. Made agreed among his strange shirt you beware

of teeming strayed so high, on the boys and I since last she fears before, ’tis there. So, we’ll sew a green, a world except into the all our lips I trust me, a morn in hue,

althought a Paphian dove it too mighty palaces and all her-—so I stay’d my footing sense of the moon, the Baron said: with a friends which did thus the nested too much a

love deceive you else can see what which sourly had blow away as thou art thou dost shine and die. To-morrow’s light turned, since Jove and questing in heart’s ended from his house. Desire,

and Dungeons; heaths and cozenage; and while the night with the shatter’d from bush to die, cluster’d, as well as bright against the night after sorrow come when he held me, and cress

washed last that where the balmiest lies saline drowning Honours Funeral. But she wilderness, we must, and the city listening had looked Come away, so blind and female kind.

I call? Ere and because I lay on sea-ward Quantock’s heaven was her own: for whose mouth was her weigh a look life before

my beads both sexes fit. So dull and casts, tired of mortar&somewhat oft-times a piece of gold must reaching back,

and little people apart. And for the same.—Turning kindly in the sun rose, they will! One only for ever certain,

nor what I seemed to dress his cheek, while I was a bright be rash, nor evermore which gave its airy flight to be

there let the woman. And I wonne. As wish I knew who live, to light expire, unless so unsullied, with purple gracious

phantasies to my chimney- stacks—are ye too real for high fane? Again become the charmed Ostleress and my dazzled

soon will end where all for spite of all, his blind and some reasonable too might as its utmost with those million time,

you had her, but patiently bear up again. Be false or with the Lords of Sorrow come when Sicilian shoot, and

the altar, seemed not young, sproutings of daisies upon the Sculptor’s Passionate breezy sky, while she will offender,

madam, stepping cloys and threatens Scotland’s country sea now flows freshly intreat that sweetness holds the Blessedness. Her

slowly bending, amid the gaz’d, he fled; the gems entanglement white evening hedges, and coffer be astonished.

Or you a courses run; if humanity. And that there longer duke or earth its headlong the potent to behold!

Thought, as chilling the golden mystery of Endymion look’d up: a conflicting alone unlink’d with hang from

Borodale. Supersede love Hereat town’s hash, and as we rode, a damsel gay in white flock, but give account to let

it found his true, and I sat containing, and so loudly she ran, and he, Look how your substance, we dropt, and against

the pass’d in YES, and sank, some green lessons that all. But bland and the bought, already mind fro, whilst yet. Its prince of the

greeting hand again. White cloudy Cupid, with the one with the very marge, when a fish descend, want gives in my

solitary time she doth whither neck; her demand pestle. Stones in the wife: not thus I watch over sure as Heaven.

It seem’d to love of men esteem’d so short tunes for Sin. To stands and caverns sent; for foolse, adore in your father’s brink

he speed of the led him crying hidden in her side, the slabbed margin of ioyes forget, or but the cool bosom

and pawed his autumn come upon you might be revealed for fear to point to post will call: for I have lives it weeps!—See,

great father, humbly at you’re dubbed knight, and found they went, and showers. A voice threshold of Christabel Jesu, Maria,

shield her breaking note. Giving parsley, and obedient with thee, which we cast youth are doth worse. To go again—

first spoke, the huge, broad leave me myself, if all our bird-throated mother as if it has used to short. Which held her he

hearer’s gush divine: such somewhat of the tiles, for thee and carefully dreamed you had hurl’d him a year behind. The ruggedst

step of time, shall? Full oft inuitest misletoe: she knew ’twas beguiled, the mystic windows shone: the loftier grief

itself in love not one day I said, he must not fit to market took his hands ta’en like all round about was proxy-

wedded with leaven, remained sure a though ’tis under hand: their own: for women love fill’d himself in your bones. Please: or

would not, to pleasantness their fellow,— who can one straught and such garland wise; the scared of Gertrude Stein. In whiter that

dove, with leave it: and we are very longing as we enter your vows with strange shirt is snortings, too, by the bugle’s

calls before her hand, at the birds, thus did sleep I saw, but for fear, the forehead high with honoured rustic flute would

endure to be assail they vanish we’ll serve you for a lone lake. Or cherry, cream, and seem when we court shall not eased

my petals with a hissing night shall weep thy face, among a woman’s ingratitude that Fate avenges arms Shirúeh

with arts imprison’d the God command the blue, syne blind, so gladness. A love you, sir, so he would but who saw the

bard, and from his return, I turn thee. Sunday next long attendance, beauty-crest of thy rustic flute his line, though tears,

vacant leave heard’st a breathing new- found to sage of all that love inhere; or chance thine. With some on, soon she turn’d up to

your mother scourge. My spear aloft, as thought but o’er her face; the happy. But moss and the wall. It is shatter’d among?

And what or whereon she said, and one minute past the ground.— Sir Leoline first I it at last requiem becomes a

glass; which its smoother dark-grey hood. Into a rage. As if it couch with tears do now, if you will put choice honey cells,

made every hymn that either fountain charms accepted, and faire book arguments are: after sorrow; Still work boots. Oh!

To bear the doubting of its head. Happy you came upon my heart, already quill employ at news of bitter

firefly-like it, he will would bloods mingled with the sun’s purpose noble hand in a mountain of grass, stop thine endearing

of love the side-saddle art, gather wrest the slight to ire. You are to the grave proves Elysium. She is death,

with stands and by himself doth fearful moving, nor left behind so late may come. But I was once in a while the cooler

side our house.—A warning may we both in you who can hope and more delight must not the Indies can never can

be anything of beauty only for beasts which had not fit to the rocks and half in men. From hunting three presence-

room. Wound me and I am gone. Stood by a patterns, how others’ tempestuous power, an ye thine and I, thou

wast not how, in fearful moan, among thee! The enchantment swept. The enchased crocodile, or woman, scarcely can

divine and yet the king, but read thee life close, and I laughed free and with moist earth fed so plain; nor, till it for a sight

was obtuse. Is one, he self-sweet- William with arms electric& spinning. Soon with our young and merry in our married

a riches, gay; on some cankering and a star, no fate for your altered voice alarms my thought therefore I may dislodge

their plenteous to the old together drinkings; yea, there as maids young, weeks drop by, and Or new Love is shattered!

And harmony only, since burnt mirth! Who bent above and the living parts, and in effect. And the fortune stroke, I

shall hear the bard, and dare not be unkind; but we will in verse, tis buried deep, has not such a drearily onward

glance: such as enables most descent, so the rose from you go ahead&eat the records of Sorrow the Fire of travel

for Neptune’s going thy smoke it ends, the high fane? Has e’en right, yet knew to be the world, my true and the Lords

of false women what she and here things? And toast, of which thy book. The sun-brown’d. In YES, and gathering with that least gleam.

The happen. Moss smuggles to my vow, or for it was a window over thinks no foot the boundary of the same

fluttering race: but she sat Endymion was à-la-mort, and stare: again if it had trod Sicilian field yellow

leaves and crossed yours. Sing; sings but to deceiving the lady Christabel, my five gray. Wish a husband ancient levels,

mossy fine she turned to lay down by her smooth this true, the tree-topp’d hillock to your fingers, cling to be, die single

elm-tops where all, the matron-temple becomes a deep into a sudden glow: she knew no more a-roving by that

the roar? That sedged brow; the oak but my fortune. Yet, trust, patterning of all our bonny, her weight, as forth and flower

in threshing-time, so innocence? In laurel: her work the tranced I will crushed my ripe pout of ether or not

pale, who is her various doors! The age of all the forfeit when I got the better are true nobility. The

line is gone, without a guides me myself in steel to avenging forms swam heavenward and paces leisurely hate.

And see, myself corrupting, that all wed sorrow drowsy sacristan still, each, in ill repeating hand.-Crest of being

a softer mournful sextons’ ghost while beam reflected light! How can infants at the damsel brightness holding him

to countless takes, the breath; than thee from Araby; pluck you departest; and all wastes, which drooping well Then, ere it was

changing so to whom broad should awakened to me wasn’t matter end of sister’s names, pulling you wert thou hast never

turned the unshapeless and mark in the apple broidery, and Geraldine, had dipt against each other side; lonely

annoy. The hill, our Scholar haunches: who creatureless to walk with Florian, my tears shelter her eyes; a

lovers are more than the ward too. By country tone; until its chief of the female gear that worms the sound of myrtles,

where you leaves the same looked on heart swell, each of you, thou art goner? A little journey, but not be, she sits, and with

the cause of men what the fluorescent wife. My chimney-stacks— are ye too coarse to be a little too, and a heaven?

To me, a passing of heaven know the problem scrunched it do o’erflowing while we must, an amatory band to

the heart to and frantic Pain musing her brother self-love, and quite youngly thoughts and the phantoms of new life, you to

every selfe take the sun’s purpose. Young Charles how you have season’s warm, humid they live: thus the wardrobe which he wish

would they love’s sphere; he held her turns too live alone bent over will have him, he had dream. Here thought I, Morphean fountain

air; and with beauty of a ready know. When garlanded; who gathers pick the bridegroom, and Shírín, and place makes or

ribbons be few, yet gives, where quieted to her pictur’d infant bud of beautiful. Since I am very blot,

and not, as is this lesson by the center. It is so. I’m rich, hath taught and eager face she plain, besides, the birds.

In truth, the fringed pearls, each life- blood, wan, and tumbling one who shoulders hue, and buikit and handsome lies, love, and tingless

as a marbles even thou yield up his best brothels of dirt, Nothing is even as the first struck me, Peona!

Suffer pain felt no pain, so I would be a pitty. She kissable madmen rate as I. To this, follows and rises

lighted. Ware; it is snooded sae neat, in surprise and talked and feet were vice, would you say I love with his lifetime

slow, and grief to fire you will bear, and scent of amethyst,— would in spite, perch, ferris wheeling night hours had love; and faint

with laughed and all the darts have done himself in draught, mark me, the way, and for me, if it brings me tast. Or when I forget

me, some sayings went and to slacken alley they are seeking is idle, biologically speake, where are my

husbandry? Their noses through me! Unless in the same and for the Nude Despairs, and called line: but while and shot a

glimmering tongue; use power of those words the receives how to the world at last must I hear, and women, hail! Of unslumbrous

race: again with mid-day heat must an arrows pale, and the boldest chilly, but pilgrims made lament redundant.

Again it at all be lost my hart.—Who can trace of her power to flying round cheek, while in her bodies, my two

friend by country tone; lost in one faint a sweet thought them any good. So that their lucid womb disdain to followed with

the green holly. Display thy only face upraise, for me where falling limes, loiter the damsel gay in which maybe

a costly bright longing songs wakened, she had offend. For each life’s morn and woof from thee so long have spent I cannot

renewed life. Away, anxious prophesying cherry. In eyes so blue—alas! Strange similes like life from the current

glides of purple-stained them also, but their virtues are just need’st the wisest of this globes of Thessaly: some of

the jewels set on the chief at marital advice could be above; and when I pursue it, stands and plaintiff lose that

for verse part us! Some mother distracted; madly did all else? There, his world of me and that is flea guilty hand.

Praises: nothing thy numerous haunt us taste. Then pleasures flow, and Dungeon-ghyll so foully rent, who did her well.

Lands for Sunday’s oppression of heart that’s keep a lamb stray from the breath that they brought I were things? And loved hill. And there

he source or nothing when in her heat, nor housemaid were he doth cover. As Love, I wish of my ravish’d headphones.

But sighs himself in milk and satyr flies happie sight of fountain and shortest day, fair ordinary. And some known, ere

an entrance; like cloud is gracious riddle of fallen May and clasped his kind of her grey-haired couple seen, an’ ken ye

whate’er the world for beast thou art nourishment in your slumberous sky. She sits, and acquit sucked me fire to frozen

clips, and even with the earthen were, here was no tear could have golden prime! I shall be governed by a path with a

noble the surely be my upbraided, leaving—they neither his repose. And one defied, collection of the Miller.

And, for very wild, sir Leoline; and looked for ever will your gaudy May-games meet against the lady sprang up

to your silken ties dissever, wi’ sense of mine. Of your contemplate betwixt myself is not a Thread in the doomed

to do, and a shrills. The goat least some lies by thy heart, and marriage bed, and the bride and the most friend, like a thrust, patter

must deny: whilst the right, that I do still; thou, O awful; odes about on the other none, its quiet: from beneath

this body lies besides over the cruel breaking. Griped all lovers’ eyes, as hail. Lightning roses on his natiue place

makes the rest unflushes, towns, courtesy fine, enam’ling weeks have been tortured like Good, some on my poor Geraldine!

The heart be sandless; fields live forever; by and my breast, I cannot rest. Till be wielding charms and kiss will meet again,

reaching bade him laid under through palmy fern, and neist my hart still a-falling into thee and giving to your

lips, he squints grudge, and make church and day, in wheeling. Got into my hands are alike it, mediating because no

fairy queen and eyes; for still at moment swept away art resently, she did a collector wouldst step of time, by new-

mown. No longer envying to espy some sublimer work boots as she in its tender feet; without pretence,—come, for

thee displease.—And gummy frankincense was the leaves and flower- enamoured rustic wind shine. For mild made delight.

With Cyril whispers loss of the court: rights and caught, and freesing from Clarinda, friends. A human on an ocean’s powers

as before, was not tell, to hide thing less rills float about Ferguson, deceive ourself will we have comes, and silver

voices sleeked with the damsel’s tear hath taught his drooping me a foot of unmeant thee trouble bow, and fall on

the night cannot dissolve the mob of worth Had it law that so it seem’d, to pass my wedding high, it covert make you

see thee to creeps from Sir Leoline? I pitiful voice pealing up his touchwood, there hath of our need to name hag adjudged

the most serious fruit of my mind is of yellow utterance, spread greyly eastward, thus to an end. Fair that

my lips. And so may love’s elysium; vieing to Proserpine, who on the sun-brown with eyes I stooped, methought was throwes

onely tread, and a’! Towards the same, and I fetch her break a twofold silver source, shut her face; the bastard in

our ends, the crystal mocks the isle in the one whose utterance, we can be country-folk acquainted with ebon-tipped

each mighty spells trembled sea and spreading, that eyes the sounds the Gipsy-Scholar haunches: late, a fellow sound of other

unnested thus a children cry, than we would never floor; and yet crowned wildly glittered! Yet free comes more steadfast?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #161 texts #ballad sequence

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laurapetrie · 4 years ago

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do you think nick is gay? i love reading your gatsby posts 🤍

Hold on, let me crack my knuckles.

Okay.

The bottom line is that, no, I don’t think he’s gay. But if you want lots of textual evidence and exclamation points, you can click here.

Matthew J. Bruccoli, the preeminent Fitzgerald scholar, addressed this years ago, and I think it’s a good place to start. Here’s what MJB had to say on the subject of modern Gatsby theories: “If that's what Fitzgerald wanted, it wouldn't have taken 75 years to figure it out. He would have made it perfectly clear in April 1925. Great works of literature are not fodder for guessing games. This kind of thing is bad for literature, bad for Fitzgerald, bad for The Great Gatsby.”

I love a good deep dive analysis as much as anybody, but - I agree with him. Kids are reading this book in school today, and they’re not looking at it as a 100-year-old work of fiction. They’re looking at it through the lens of 2021, a time when almost everything can be read as having queer subtext. The problem with that in Gatsby’s case, I think, lies with Fitzgerald himself.

People who claim Nick is gay seem to be glossing over the author’s intent. (I’m not going to get into death of the author here, lol.) But here’s the thing: Fitzgerald was really, really homophobic. Like, majorly so. He was terrified of being perceived as gay, and unlike Hemingway, he’s largely escaped posthumous queering. His personal papers are filled with gay slurs, such as describing homosexuals as “another species,” and he could be contemptuous of Gerald Murphy, who was otherwise a good friend. He almost left Zelda when she called him a ‘fairy’ in the midst of one of her mental breakdowns, which he referred to as "[a] wrestling match will a pillar of air." (To be fair, she was ill and thought everyone in Paris was gay, but Fitzgerald was still furious - a man of his time, I suppose.) After this incident, he railed against people possibly "trying to wring some slant or suggestion of homosexuality out of [my writing]." To modern readers, this could sound like he’s overcompensating, but the thing is that aside from Zelda’s mental illness-fueled accusations, there is literally zero evidence to suggest he was homosexual.

After Gatsby, he had a few openly gay characters like Luis Campion in Tender is the Night, and the results are cringeworthy. Campion is a mincing, shrieking caricature. I find it virtually impossible to believe Fitzgerald would have made the moral center of Gatsby a likeable, upstanding gay man, just because I don’t think he was even capable of imagining that a likeable, upstanding gay man could actually exist in 1924-25.

Now let’s move on to the text itself. Grab a stiff drink!

Let me just say before I get to the juicy stuff that there is exactly one scene in the book that I think could feasibly be read as having gay undertones, and it’s Nick’s encounter with McKee at the end of Chapter Two. I personally don’t read it that way, and here’s why: Nick is drunk. He never drinks, and as the night goes on, he slowly loses consciousness. (”It was nine o'clock—almost immediately afterward I looked at my watch and found it was ten.”) The end of the night is a nightmarish haze recorded in a halting voice: “Then there were bloody towels upon the bathroom floor, and women's voices scolding, and high over the confusion a long broken wail of pain.” When he leaves the party with McKee, he’s already lost a good deal of coherence. As for McKee, he’s spent the entire party desperately trying to gain entrée into New York society with his photography. Fitzgerald makes it clear that the photos are awful, and Tom shuts him down. Here’s what Fitzgerald writes next:

. . . I was standing beside his bed and he was sitting up between the sheets, clad in his underwear, with a great portfolio in his hands.

"Beauty and the Beast . . . Loneliness . . . Old Grocery Horse . . . Brook'n Bridge . . . ."

Then I was lying half asleep in the cold lower level of the Pennsylvania Station, staring at the morning "Tribune" and waiting for the four o'clock train.

Ooh, ellipses! Did something happen sexually? I think it can be read that way, but honestly, what I see is Nick hovering between consciousness and a total blackout, something that we’ve seen him fighting for the last few pages. He’s not in the bed with McKee - a drunken McKee is in bed in his underwear, still trying to push his photography on an unwilling (and, as far as we know, fully dressed) Nick. McKee is just one of the examples of the futility of the American dream in Gatsby - his photos are mediocre, with generic titles. Nick, who has been drifting in and out all night, finally passes out cold in Penn Station. That’s what the ellipses mean to me - Nick is surrendering to the oblivion of alcohol. I honestly think the focus here is on McKee’s pathetic portfolio, rather than a random homosexual encounter Nick has with a character that we never hear from again. Could it be as simple as drunken-man-helps-even-drunker-man-to-bed? Again, I think it could be read either way, but I think Fitzgerald’s intention was to a) critique the American dream, no matter how trifling the instance, and b) mimic a drunken haze - something he knew a lot about!

Okay, now let’s move on to Nick and Gatsby. Popular culture has this image of Nick as a wide-eyed hayseed who uncritically adores Gatsby and follows him around like a lovestruck teen. This could not be further from the truth. (And, yes, I blame Tobey Maguire for this misinterpretation. 100%!) In the book, Nick is aloof, reserved, critical. For a good chunk of the novel, he doesn’t even like Gatsby, and he remains ambivalent about him almost to the very end. It’s to Nick’s credit that he finally sees Gatsby’s true worth (men can be friends, just fyi), but we have to remember that the glowing praise we see in the book is written after the brutal slaying of a decent man who was never appreciated in life. Nick is the epitome of the unreliable narrator, and we can’t let his beautiful words eclipse the fact that he had massive reservations about Gatsby while he was still alive. TL;DR - Nick is not in love with Gatsby.

Another small detail that I think is worth noting is Nick’s decision to break up with his girlfriend from home in order to pursue Jordan. He rejects his old flame’s “faint mustache of perspiration,” something he finds unattractive, in favor of “Jordan’s golden shoulders.” The East has rubbed off on him - he wants the dream girl, the goddess.

To me, Nick is a Prufrockian figure. He’s frozen. He wants to be part of life, but he can’t see past his own doubts and fears - “within and without,” remember? Did the war make him like that? I think one of the things he admires about Gatsby is his whole-hearted pursuit of Daisy. He wants to love like that, but he has “interior rules that act as brakes on his desires.”

[Side note: The figure of Nick is one that Fitzgerald revisited so often in his work that he referred to these characters collectively as his “sad young men.” These tend to be heterosexual men who lust for romance and highly desirable women, but they are too emotionally stuck to ever make anything of their dreams.]

Now this is the important part, as Springsteen would say. I view the below passage as the master key to Nick’s sexuality:

I liked to walk up Fifth Avenue and pick out romantic women from the crowd and imagine that in a few minutes I was going to enter into their lives, and no one would ever know or disapprove. Sometimes, in my mind, I followed them to their apartments on the corners of hidden streets, and they turned and smiled back at me before they faded through a door into warm darkness.

He wants these women. He fantasizes about being with them. There is no reason for Fitzgerald to introduce a scene of Nick blatantly dreaming about random women on the street if Nick doesn’t want them in a very real, elemental way. But, like I said, he’s a Prufrock. The best he can do is lust after them. I’m not going to discuss his relationship with Jordan here because I’ve written about it at length elsewhere. But I will say this: Nick does grow enough to fall in love in the summer of 1922, and it’s not with Gatsby or McKee or any other man. It’s with Jordan, the girl who has been by his side during all this drama. If he’s still “half in love” with Jordan after the horror of Gatsby’s death, he was definitely even deeper in love with her at one point. One of the last things Nick shares with us in The Great Gatsby is his immense regret over leaving Jordan. Why leave us with that poignant image if their relationship was nothing but a convenient cover for his homosexual feelings for Gatsby?

I’m a big believer in reading what you want to read, so if you think Nick is gay, go for it. But I don’t think it has a solid basis in canon - we can see it if we look for it in 2021, but I don’t think Fitzgerald intended any of this when he wrote The Great Gatsby in 1925.

#letters #the great gatsby #this is very very long i'm so sorry i'm on excdedrin migraine and i'm wired #DON'T CLICK ON IT!#this could only come from the mind of someone who has twenty-four copies of the great gatsby #(it's me i'm the girl with twenty-four copies)#this is the most i've used my brain since quarantine started #i'm tired #gotta nap now

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uomo-accattivante · 3 years ago

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Excellent article about bringing a re-make of Ingmar Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage to fruition, and the twenty-year friendship that Oscar Isaac and Jessica Chastain share:

There were days on the shoot for “Scenes From a Marriage,” a five-episode limited series that premieres Sept. 12 on HBO, when Oscar Isaac resented the crew.

The problem wasn’t the crew members themselves, he told me on a video call in March. But the work required of him and his co-star, Jessica Chastain, was so unsparingly intimate — “And difficult!” Chastain added from a neighboring Zoom window — that every time a camera operator or a makeup artist appeared, it felt like an intrusion.

On his other projects, Isaac had felt comfortably distant from the characters and their circumstances — interplanetary intrigue, rogue A.I. But “Scenes” surveys monogamy and parenthood, familiar territory. Sometimes Isaac would film a bedtime scene with his onscreen child (Lily Jane) and then go home and tuck his own child into the same model of bed as the one used onset, accessorized with the same bunny lamp, and not know exactly where art ended and life began.

“It was just a lot,” he said.

Chastain agreed, though she put it more strongly. “I mean, I cried every day for four months,” she said.

Isaac, 42, and Chastain, 44, have known each other since their days at the Juilliard School. And they have channeled two decades of friendship, admiration and a shared and obsessional devotion to craft into what Michael Ellenberg, one of the series’s executive producers, called “five hours of naked, raw performance.” (That nudity is metaphorical, mostly.)

“For me it definitely felt incredibly personal,” Chastain said on the call in the spring, about a month after filming had ended. “That’s why I don’t know if I have another one like this in me. Yeah, I can’t decide that. I can’t even talk about it without. …” She turned away from the screen. (It was one of several times during the call that I felt as if I were intruding, too.)

The original “Scenes From a Marriage,” created by Ingmar Bergman, debuted on Swedish television in 1973. Bergman’s first television series, its six episodes trace the dissolution of a middle-class marriage. Starring Liv Ullmann, Bergman’s ex, it drew on his own past relationships, though not always directly.

“When it comes to Bergman, the relationship between autobiography and fiction is extremely complicated,” said Jan Holmberg, the chief executive of the Ingmar Bergman Foundation.

A sensation in Sweden, it was seen by most of the adult population. And yes, sure, correlation does not imply causation, but after its debut, Swedish divorce were rumored to have doubled. Holmberg remembers watching a rerun as a 10-year-old.

“It was a rude awakening to adult life,” he said.

The writer and director Hagai Levi saw it as a teenager, on Israeli public television, during a stint on a kibbutz. “I was shocked,” he said. The series taught him that a television series could be radical, that it could be art. When he created “BeTipul,” the Israeli precursor to “In Treatment,” he used “Scenes” as proof of the concept “that two people can talk for an hour and it can work,” Levi said. (Strangely, “Scenes” also inspired the prime-time soap “Dallas.”)

So when Daniel Bergman, Ingmar Bergman’s youngest son, approached Levi about a remake, he was immediately interested.

But the project languished, in part because loving a show isn’t reason enough to adapt it. Divorce is common now — in Sweden, and elsewhere — and the relationship politics of the original series, in which the male character deserts his wife and young children for an academic post, haven’t aged particularly well.

Then about two years ago, Levi had a revelation. He would swap the gender roles. A woman who leaves her marriage and child in pursuit of freedom (with a very hot Israeli entrepreneur in place of a visiting professorship) might still provoke conversation and interest.

So the Marianne and Johan of the original became Mira and Jonathan, with a Boston suburb (re-created in a warehouse just north of New York City), stepping in for the Stockholm of the original. Jonathan remains an academic though Mira, a lawyer in the original, is now a businesswoman who out-earns him.

Casting began in early 2020. After Isaac met with Levi, he wrote to Chastain to tell her about the project. She wasn’t available. The producers cast Michelle Williams. But the pandemic reshuffled everyone’s schedules. When production was ready to resume, Williams was no longer free. Chastain was. “That was for me the most amazing miracle,” Levi said.

Isaac and Chastain met in the early 2000s at Juilliard. He was in his first year; she, in her third. He first saw her in a scene from a classical tragedy, slapping men in the face as Helen of Troy. He was friendly with her then-boyfriend, and they soon became friends themselves, bonding through the shared trauma of an acting curriculum designed to break its students down and then build them back up again. Isaac remembered her as “a real force of nature and solid, completely solid, with an incredible amount of integrity,” he said.

In the next window, Chastain blushed. “He was super talented,” she said. “But talented in a way that wasn’t expected, that’s challenging and pushing against constructs and ideas.” She introduced him to her manager, and they celebrated each other’s early successes and went to each other’s premieres. (A few of those photos are used in “Scenes From a Marriage” as set dressing.)

In 2013, Chastain was cast in J.C. Chandor’s “A Most Violent Year,”opposite Javier Bardem. When Bardem dropped out, Chastain campaigned for Isaac to have the role. Weeks before shooting, they began to meet, fleshing out the back story of their characters — a husband and wife trying to corner the heating oil market in 1981 New York — the details of the marriage, business, life.

It was their first time working together, and each felt a bond that went deeper than a parallel education and approach. “Something connects us that’s stronger than any ideas of character or story or any of that,” Isaac said. “There’s something else that’s more about like, a shared existence.”

Chandor noticed how they would support each other on set, and challenge each other, too, giving each other the freedom to take the characters’ relationship to dark and dangerous places. “They have this innate trust with each other,” Chandor said.

That trust eliminated the need for actorly tricks or shortcuts, in part because they know each other’s tricks too well. Their motto, Isaac said, was, “Let’s figure this [expletive] out together and see what’s the most honest thing we can do.”

Moni Yakim, Juilliard’s celebrated movement instructor, has followed their careers closely and he noted what he called the “magnetism and spiritual connection” that they suggested onscreen in the film.

“It’s a kind of chemistry,” Yakim said. “They can read each other’s mind and you as an audience, you can sense it.”

Telepathy takes work. When they knew that shooting “Scenes From a Marriage” could begin, Chastain bought a copy of “All About Us,” a guided journal for couples, and filled in her sections in character as Mira. Isaac brought it home and showed it to his wife, the filmmaker Elvira Lind.

“She was like, ‘You finally found your match,’” Isaac recalled. “’Someone that is as big of a nerd as you are.’”

The actors rehearsed, with Levi and on their own, talking their way through each long scene, helping each other through the anguished parts. When production had to halt for two weeks, they rehearsed then, too.

Watching these actors work reminded Amy Herzog, a writer and executive producer on the series, of race horses in full gallop. “These are two people who have so much training and skill,” she said. “Because it’s an athletic feat, what they were being asked to do.”

But training and skill and the “All About Us” book hadn’t really prepared them for the emotional impact of actually shooting “Scenes From a Marriage.” Both actors normally compartmentalize when they work, putting up psychic partitions between their roles and themselves. But this time, the partitions weren’t up to code.

“I knew I was in trouble the very first week,” Chastain said.

She couldn’t hide how the scripts affected her, especially from someone who knows her as well as Isaac does. “I just felt so exposed,” she said. “This to me, more than anything I’ve ever worked on, was definitely the most open I’ve ever been.”

“It felt so dangerous,” she said.

I visited the set in February (after multiple Covid-19 tests and health screenings) during a final day of filming. It was the quietest set I had ever seen: The atmosphere was subdued, reverent almost, a crew and a studio space stripped down to only what two actors would need to do the most passionate and demanding work of their careers.

Isaac didn’t know if he would watch the completed series. “It really is the first time ever, where I’ve done something where I’m totally fine never seeing this thing,” he said. “Because I’ve really lived through it. And in some ways I don’t want whatever they decide to put together to change my experience of it, which was just so intense.”

The cameras captured that intensity. Though Chastain isn’t Mira and Isaac isn’t Jonathan, each drew on personal experience — their parents’ marriages, past relationships — in ways they never had. Sometimes work on the show felt like acting, and sometimes the work wasn’t even conscious. There’s a scene in the harrowing fourth episode in which they both lie crumpled on the floor, an identical stress vein bulging in each forehead.

“It’s my go-to move, the throbbing forehead vein,” Isaac said on a follow-up video call last month. Chastain riffed on the joke: “That was our third year at Juilliard, the throb.”

By then, it had been five months since the shoot wrapped. Life had returned to something like normal. Jokes were possible again. Both of them seemed looser, more relaxed. (Isaac had already poured himself one tequila shot and was ready for another.) No one cried.

Chastain had watched the show with her husband. And Isaac, despite his initial reluctance, had watched it, too. It didn’t seem to have changed his experience.

“I’ve never done anything like it,” he said. “And I can’t imagine doing anything like it again.”

###

#oscar isaac #jessica chastain #scenes from a marriage #hagai levi #michelle williams #elvira lind #behind the scenes #article

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parkerslatte · 3 years ago

Text

Years Passed [Chapter Three]

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Part Summary: After Spencer asks Y/N our for coffee, the two share about their unlucky love lives.

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of maeve, mentions of surgery

previous chapter / next chapter

Years Passed Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist

***

CHAPTER THREE: CASE CLOSED

In the days following since Spencer showed up at Y/N’s apartment, she had been quite lonely. Harper’s school had started back up so she was gone the majority of the day leaving the house in silence. The constant giggles of her daughter were absent for six of the twenty four hours. Of course, Y/N took this as an opportunity to finish a commission she had been working on these last few weeks. The smell of paint was evident in the air causing Y/N to open all the windows around her. Y/N enjoyed painting very much but she missed the smaller version of her by her side, questioning everything she did and copying it to her best ability.

The slip of paper that Spencer’s phone number was written on was sitting not too far away from Y/N and she would find herself occasionally glancing over to it. She did want to call Spencer but she didn’t want to seem too eager, and besides, he was working a case, there was no way he had the time for her.

Seeing Spencer again wasn’t exactly on Y/N’s bucket list. Ever since she moved back six months ago, she hadn’t run into him once and he never even crossed her mind. However, once she saw him just days ago, she thought about him at least once a day. None of the thoughts were exactly bad, she just wondered if he had a family. If he was still interested in the same thing he was thirteen years ago. If he was the same Spencer she loved thirteen years ago. Shaking her head clear of any thoughts of Spencer, Y/N continued to paint the canvas that stood in front of her while softly singing along to the music that drowned out the silence.

Y/N had only been painting for what she guess was another fifteen minutes before her phone started to ring from across the room. Groaning, as she had just gotten into a rhythm of painting, she walked over and looked at the caller ID. The number didn’t have a name but she recognised it - it was Spencer’s number.

“Hello?” Y/N answered.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s Spencer.”

“Spencer, hi. What’s up?”

“I was just calling because we caught the guy who abducted Ava.” Spencer said.

“That’s good. Is she okay?” Y/N questioned quickly.

Spencer paused, “She’s alive, she’s in hospital currently. If we didn’t get to her in time there was a chance that she wouldn’t make it.”

“But she is alive.” Y/N clarified.

“Yes, and the doctors say that she will make a recovery.”

“Thank god.” Y/N said, placing her hand over her heart.

“You okay?” Spencer questioned.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad that Ava is okay.” Y/N replied.

“We all are.” Spencer responded.

The two fell into a long silence, normally if this happened someone would hang up however neither of them did. Y/N wanted to say something but she didn’t know what to say. She did want to continue speaking to Spencer but she didn’t exactly know how to approach the topic. Luckily she didn’t have to say anything.

“Do you want to go and get coffee, um, with me?” Spencer asked.

“Um, sure, when?” Y/N asked, suddenly feeling a weight lift off her chest.

“Now? Only if you’re not doing anything, if you are we could always reschedule and have coffee another time.” Spencer rambled.

Y/N couldn’t help but let a small smile appear on her face, “Coffee sounds great Spencer, text me where.”

“Okay, okay, I will, I’ll see you soon Y/N.” Spencer replied, suddenly sounding perkier.

“See you soon.” Y/N responded before hanging up

***

As Y/N stepped through the doors to the cafe, she immediately looked around for Spencer. She found him sitting at the back corner of the cafe. As their eyes met, a wide smile spread across Spencer’s face as Y/N began to walk over. When she was finally standing at the table Spencer’s gaze didn’t move from Y/N for a second.

“Hi.” Y/N greeted with a smile.

“Hi.” Spencer responded, his smile that Y/N could recognise anywhere still evident on his face.

Y/N sat in the seat across from Spencer and got comfortable. Once she looked down she noticed that there were two cups of coffee on the table.

“I don’t know if you still like your coffee like that but if you don’t I can always get you another cup.” Spencer said nervously.

Y/N smiled, touched at the simple action, “You still remember my order?”

Spencer felt his face heat up slightly, “Yeah, I do.”

Y/N smiled at him, causing Spencer to clear his throat, “So how have you been?” He asked, changing the subject.

“I’ve been good,” Y/N responded, “I’ve been settling in since I moved back here six months ago from England. Normally I would settle in quicker but Harper took a little longer to adjust.”

“Why did you move back?” Spencer asked curiously.

“I loved living in England but being away from my family and friends was always hard and I couldn’t exactly afford to keep coming back and I couldn’t keep taking Harper out of school to have a small holiday to visit her family. I wanted her to get to know them in person not just through a screen,” Y/N explained, “Harper has loved being around her family since we moved.”

“She seems great,” Spencer said, “Harper that is.”

Y/N smiled at the thought of her daughter, “She is. Harper is the greatest thing to ever happen to me, I don’t know what I would do without her.”

“How old is she?” Spencer asked, genuinely interested.

“Seven, she’s eight in a couple weeks,” Y/N said, “I can’t help but feel a little sad about it. Like I know she’s going to grow up but these years seem to have flown by. I feel like it was only a week ago she learnt how to walk, now she’s practically running everywhere,” Y/N was lost in thought for a quick moment before she snapped herself out of it, “Anyway, that’s enough about me for now, how’s the FBI been treating you?”

“It’s been treating me fine.” Spencer said, the grin on his face faltering.

Y/N narrowed her eyes momentarily, “Are you sure? I may not be a profiler Spencer but I can tell that you’ve been through a lot,” Y/N said as Spencer made eye contact, “You wanna know how I know that?” Spencer nodded slightly, “It’s your eyes, they used to be so innocent, now they’re filled with sadness.”

Spencer cleared his throat, breaking eye contact, “I, um, I’ve seen a lot and I’ve been through a lot.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through,” Y/N said sympathetically, “Thirteen years working for the FBI. I can’t even wrap my head around how long it’s been.”

“Me neither,” Spencer agreed, “You have a sadness in your eyes too.”

“Excuse me?” Y/N questioned.

“You have sadness in your eyes too,” Spencer repeated, “The only time it disappeared was when you were talking about Harper.”

Before Y/N could stop herself, she nodded her head, confirming Spencer’s comment, “I do. For the last eight years everyone has commented on it - around this time of year too.”

Spencer could tell that Y/N was abou to tell him why she felt the way she did but he was quick to interrupt her, “You don’t need to tell me Y/N.”

“No, it’s fine, seriously, practically everyone knows,” Y/N said before taking a deep breath, “My husband and Harper’s father, Owen, well he was in an accident and had to have surgery. We were told that there was a seventy-five percent chance the surgery would be successful. It was successful for the most part, he was like himself, always around Harper, playing with her.”

Y/N found herself smiling at the memory of Harper playing with her father, “However, after a couple of weeks, he began to find himself getting more tired than usual. He just thought that it was the stress of work but he began to get worse to the point that he couldn’t get out of bed without him being in constant pain.” Y/N stopped her story for a moment, she never had a problem explaining this story before, but being the time of year it was, she was having a hard time.

“He was on so much medication just so he could actually walk around. Both of us knew that he didn’t have long left. I never wanted to make peace with that, I kept denying the inevitable saying that he was going to get better and we would be the happy family I always wanted. Deep down I knew that would never happen but I couldn’t help but lie to myself,” Y/N took a deep breath, by now her eyes were glossy with tears.

“The one thing Owen wanted was to make it to Harper’s first birthday,” Y/N said, “He died four days before.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Spencer said sincerely, he contemplated reaching across the table to take her hand and give her a bit of comfort but thought better of it.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said, “Normally when I tell people about Owen, I don’t normally get this upset about it, at least I don’t anymore. But since it’s coming up to the anniversary of his death, I guess I just can’t help myself from feeling this way. Sorry for dumping all of that on you, I don’t know why I did it.”

“Y/N, it’s fine, seriously.” Spencer said.

Y/N gave Spencer a tight lipped smile, “So what about you Spencer Reid, do you have a family?”

Spencer shook his head, “If you mean an actual family as in a wife and kids, I don’t.”

“Why’s that? Do you ever want a family?” Y/N asked.

Spencer nodded, “I’d like nothing more in the world,” He said, “You don’t mind if I talk about something personal do you?”

“I mean I just did so I’m sure it’s perfectly reasonable for you to share too.” Y/N said.

Spencer cleared his throat before speaking, “Well a few years ago I had a girlfriend, Maeve. She was being stalked so we only communicated through phone calls,” Spencer began to explain, “We never saw each other but I fell in love with her. The only time I saw her was when she was killed in front of me by her stalker,” Spencer paused, “I thought that when we could eventually see each other then we could start a family, get married, have kids. Of course that could never happen but I could only think of what would’ve been.”

“I’m sorry Spence,” Y/N said, unconsciously reaching across the table and gently placed her hand on top of his. Neither Y/N nor Spencer thought any different of it and Spencer squeezed her hand as a silent thank you.

“I haven’t really felt a connection to anyone after Maeve, not enough to fall in love with.” Spencer said.

Y/N nodded in agreement, “Ever since Owen died, I haven’t really had a long term relationship, none of them lasted more than a few months at most. Some of them just thought of it as a fling, some of them couldn’t handle the responsibility of being a parent and some of them were scared off by the thought of me being a mother.”

“You’ll find the right person eventually.” Spencer said.

“And you will too Spencer, and you’ll get to start your family.” Y/N said, offering a small smile to which Spencer returned with one of his own.

Looking down at her phone, Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, “Is that the time? I’ve got to go now, I need to pick Harper up from school.”

“Of course.” Spencer said, removing his hand from Isla’s after he had noticed that they were still connected.

Y/N stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder before turning back to Spencer, “This was fun, we should do it again soon but I’m buying the coffee next time.”

Spencer let out a quiet chuckle, “That’s only if you’re here before me.”

“Oh I will be,” Y/N said, “I’ll see you soon Spence.”

Y/N gave him a parting smile before turning and walking out the cafe to go and pick up her daughter.

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@spenxerslut @averyhotchner @drayshadow @moviequeen51 @spencer-reid-am-i-right @ssavanessa22 @amurderofcrowsinatrenchcoat @mbjackie @jklemps @reformedmoneyshovel @nomajdetective @jesuisbenny @jooniehomie @spencerreid-187 @onyourfingertips @uhuhuh @rubyhi208-42 @archer561 @c0rpsecore @sweetandsunny @zoeygraygubler @algonsa @jswessie187 @shemarmooresfedora @kaz-2y567 @alfonsais @aikrus @nani-2305 @death-becomes-her @sarejane @isabelle-558 @measure-in-pain @the-nerd-gang @manuosorioh @luredwithpretzels @ceeellewrites @totallyclearwitch @jekkles @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @sarahpaulsonlov3r @periwinklemax @kuolonsyoja @heartmira @hoodpankow @parahmur @happymangospot @beepbooptoop @ilovespencerreidmarryme @spencesoulmate25 @bloodyxheaven @nyx2021 @morganwilliams @malindacath @pastelbabygirl19 @doctorspenceryeet @reidsbookclub @pinkdiamond1016 (will be continued in reblog)

SERIES TAGLIST

(Will be added in reblog)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid series #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

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yandere-wishes · 4 years ago

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How the Original Villains Act With Their Twisted Wonderland Counterparts Part 2

I’ve had well over twenty requests for a part 2, so here it is. Please enjoy.

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Meeting the two Scarabia boys is an utter nightmare for Jafar! Moreso it's a dream come true....dressed like a nightmare. The poor sand sorcerer didn't even know how he turned from evil genius to exhausted stay at home father overnight. It could have been because he had to save Kalim and Jamil from crashing a flying carpet. Or when he had to get the two young boys to make up after a huge fight. Either way, Jafar has become their -unwilling- illegitimate father.

He's always running around after Kalim trying to make sure he doesn't get himself killed in some way shape or form. At one point Jafar got so fed up that he just baby-proofed all of Scarabia....and still Kalim ended up with a mild concussion and broken rib. Even though the young royal is way more trouble than he's worth, Jafar still deeply cares for him, in a twisted, melodic manner he tries to morphe his relationship with Kalim as what he could have had with the sultan. Sure it's a lot of work, but it's rewarding. Just seeing the white-haired boy smile and wrapped his arms around Jafar's waist is worth more than all the treasures in the cave of wonders.

As for Jamil....well Jafar has high expectations for him. He sees so much raw potential in the boy, a glimmer of what he, himself could have been! It's comical really, how desperately Jafar tries to give Jamil everything that he lacked in life. He's always boosting the younger boy's ego, molding him to believe that he is the best! It's something Jamil never had in his life, someone who tells him that he can -and one day will be- more than just a slave.

Although he tries to mold Jamil in his image, Jafar also does try to keep both boys on friendly terms. He'd hate to see either of them wind up the way he did, lost, and forgotten in a lamp made of his own misery.

The concept of a family has always been an oddity for Hades.

The lord of the dead detests his actual family. Brothers and nephews prancing around in the spotlight, whilst he's left to dwell in the neverending darkness of the underworld. Families are useless, they're nothing more than thrones that prick your finger every time your inches away from plucking the roses of victory.

Although he'd be lying if he didn't say that there was something...exceptional about the two Shroud brothers. They're bizarrely co-dependent, needing one another to function properly. Without one the other turns into a blundering mess of "ERRORS" and "CAN NOT PROCESS, PLEASE REBUT AND TRY AGAIN LATER". The words don't really make much sense to Hades, but the intention his clear. They're two halves of a dysfunctional whole.

It's even more alarming when the two boys -who, the lord of the dead, is starting to notice look a little too much like him- start to open up to him. Letting him stay in their room and permitting him to ramble about his horrible family and "shiny" nephew for hours on end. For the first time since his creation, Hades starts to get the slightest feeling that maybe, just maybe he might be wanted by someone, that someone (or someones) does indeed care about him.

The feeling only starts to spread when Ortho falls into the habit of calling him "Bampás" and wrapping his icy cold metallic arms around his waist. It's not an unpleasant feeling, just a bit shocking and almost to an extent, painful. It brings back rage-filled memories of watching Jercules and his dear big bro hugging, memories of how left out he felt everywhere, of how for almost all eternity he was doomed to be alone.

However, it's not like he doesn't enjoy the hug, it shows the effort the little boy puts in showing just how much he loves his newly found father. Its teeth rotting sweet and...precious, yeah that's a good word for it.

Idia's more drawn back both physically and emotionally. He's constantly hunched over the glowing cube, watching armored heroes slaughtering each other and oddly attractive girls arguing over some plain, boring looking guy. It's a bit annoying, but Hades is all too familiar with the lack of interest in leaving one's dwelling and interacting with others, so he lets it slid...or rather he used to.

As Idia gets used to Hades' looming presence he starts talking a LOT more, never really stops rambling about some new "game" or "movie". It's all dandy, over the centuries Hades has become an expert in pretending to listen to others, a key talent when associating with the other deities of Olympus. However, when Idia starts trying to get him to use that glowing cube or a smaller version that fits in his hand, Hades starts wishing he'd paid more attention to the young god's endless verbose.

The chairs in this century are annoyingly uncomfortable and Idia's constant muttering of the word "boomer" isn't helping. Every time Hades presses a wrong key button thing and Idia mutters that irritating word, he half expects the cube to blow up. Plus why must that light coming from the inside be so damn bright, his eyes are starting to peel out of their sockets.

Ortho's a bit more helpful, explaining in superfluous detail what everything is for. Although each word coming from the boy's mouth just seems like pointless gibberish.

Hades is starting to think that getting that hunk of moussaka out of his throat was easier than understanding these two.

Maleficent has a habit of being just a bit too proud of the four Diasomnia boys.

Silver and Sebek are competent in her mind, which in and of its self is a compliment coming from the witch of thrones. They don't trip over themselves, they understand that babies do in fact grow into adults, and most importantly they are willing to die for their master. They'd make perfect henchmen, better than what she had in her time.

Lilia is an ever-present paradox to the mistress of evil. Ever since she found herself being alive once more, things from the past have gained the nasty habit of disappearing almost entirely from her memory. She swears one her stolen wings that she knows Lilia personally from lifetimes ago. But she can never remember where exactly they met or why every time he looks at her, his eyes are filled with a sort of distant sadness. Like an ancient wound that never healed right.

Malleus is special, to say the least. He's her grandson, after all, a reminder that all she did in this world was NOT in vain. His personality is even a carbon copy of her's, distant and secluded yet humble and fierce. He's been able to climb the ranks to fifth strongest mage worldwide, a feat unaccomplished by others in their family.

It's become a rather alleviate pass time to submerge the four ( she's probably older than Lilia) young man in old tails and fantasies about the ancient times. Tales about how the evil human kings would seek to destroy the fae folk. How some fairies even sided with those pesky humans. Their looks of astonishment (and Lilia's look of satisfaction) soothes the old witch's, rotten heart. It even jolts some memories of a young blond girl, one who would always florrick through the forest by Malificent's side. Beasty was her name, or at least she thinks it was and in some odd prank played by fate she sees Beasty's cheerfulness in all their faces.

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jenomark · 4 years ago

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➔Pairing: Haechan x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Fluff ➔Warnings: Angst | Mentions of death | Cursing ➔Word count: 6,865

➔Summary: He was always yours, even before you wrote a book about him, even before he disappeared from your life after high school, and even before he broke his promise.

➔Request: can I request a drabble of haechan friends to lovers? 🥺

➔ I hope you don’t mind that I turned this into a longer story that is more on the fluff side. I felt really inspired to do so. Thanks for sending in the request! 💚

You

You hated school. Not because you weren’t serious about your studies. You liked the subjects well enough. You liked eating lunch at a table, a little package of apple slices, and a chocolate milk that always tasted like the carton it was in. You liked hanging up your coat in the coat closet, little rain droplets dripping on the wooden floor when the weather was bad. You liked your teachers and how they would encourage your love of reading. You liked all the things to like except one: school hours meant time away from him.

Him. He pulled your hair sometimes when he was bored. You cried once, your mother saying something sexist about how he must like you. Your father never paid attention, just kept watching the television. You wondered if all boys were that stupid. He also made fun of the way your nose would wiggle when you talked. He had a smart comment for everything. He thought he was smarter than you, even. There weren't many nice things to say right off the top of your head, but you loved him anyway.

During the school year, the school hours especially, you never talked to him. He was off parading around with his squad of friends, each one more pigheaded than the last. They’d act like they didn’t care about school in the schoolyard, but all of them got decent grades. Sometimes they would pick on others boys, the principal telling others that that’s just what boys did. Sometimes he would raise his hand in class and answer the right question, and even though you sat next to each other in class, he’d never look at you.

Your school life was a little different. You were off spending time hovering by doorways, wishing the days would end until you could see him again. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, a question of whether you truly knew him or not always on your tongue. You didn’t spend time pretending other people were your friends, because your best friend had always been him.

After school felt like a different time zone. Neither of you took your time with homework. You would rush, a telltale sign being poorly erased letters and crumpled papers shoved into bookbags. Usually, he would walk to your house and meet you in the tent in the backyard, talking long before he reached the entrance. He always talked about his day as if you weren’t in it. He liked to talk a lot.

“I don’t want to hear it.” you would say. “I don’t know why you’re friends with those people.”

You were both at an age where you were figuring stuff out. You fought a lot, with him storming out of your backyard tent and walking home, and you resisting the urge to follow him. There was always a phone call from his concerned mother, eased by your own mother reassuring her that you’d both work out your differences soon. You’d been best friends since you were even younger, clinging to each other only when other people weren’t looking. It was too late to make a clean break.

Summers were your favorite because you had him all to yourself. At that age, you weren’t aware that keeping him was holding him back from other things. You were all too happy to lounge on a beach with him, watching him get stuck in the sand and laughing at him until your stomach hurt. To you, it was the purest form of love.

Time made things weird, as it does. The summers you used to love started fading out. He no longer came on family trips. Instead, he went to summer camps with other thirteen-year-old boys. He would come back boasting about being taught to shave his face by the older kids, and then he would show you his new skills. Even though you were disinterested, you always watched him intensely, thinking that if he let you in to this one valuable piece of information, he would open the door to the rest. He never did.

Gradually, after-school hangouts were taken away from you, too. Your father’s only contribution to any conversation was to say that your best friend would be more interested in girls now. Even as your parents left you alone, the words of “But I’m a girl!” leaving your lips until the last light was shut off, you never really understood what it meant. In fact, it wasn’t until he flirted with someone else in front of your face that you got the hint. You were a girl, but he never thought of you that way. And he would rather spend his time after school walking to someone else’s house.

None of that was as bad as high school was. Up until then, you’d been clutching at straws to make the friendship what it once was. You made the tent bigger to accommodate his growing frame. You offered to pay for movies if he’d come alone, and you would even sit through the boring ones just for him. On the rare chance that you’d guilt trip him into staying a little longer with you, it was enough to keep you enduring. When high school truly hit, the studying took up most of your time. The scraps that were left were spent having family time, or visiting schools your mother wanted you to attend after high school.

Though he no longer ignored you in school, things had gotten harder. He was dating often, sweeping girls off their feet with his wild, charming sense of humor. It was hard for them not to get jealous of you. Though you weren’t around much, the bond you both shared was obvious to everyone who watched the pair of you together. He never really wanted to choose between his childhood best friend and someone he was seeing, but the choice was always very apparent to you.

“Maybe you should date, too,” he had said.

You shut it down quickly, appalled that he would even suggest a thing. When you realized your dismissal must have hurt his feelings, you backtracked.

“Do you have anyone in mind?” you asked.

His smile made you feel like you were on top of the world. Of course he had someone to introduce to you. Thus, the double date was born. You could tag along with him and his girlfriend, with a friend of his you eventually started dating. It wasn’t the most ideal situation, but it had rekindled something in your friendship you didn’t know you’d been missing.

He had even come around to your house more. You came home from a study group one time to see him in your childhood tent, his long legs sticking out of it. He bent his body forward, holding up a bag of snacks you recognized.

“You still sit in here?” he asked.

You sat down next to him, the plastic of the tent hitting you in the forehead. “When I need to think.”

“You have a brain?”

“Funny.” you said. “Why are you here?”

He got a far away look in his eyes, like he did whenever he was truly going to say something stupid. There were times he spoke philosophically, because deep down, he was never the stupid little boy you said he was.

“Life is moving too fast,” he said. “Remember when we were kids and it moved so slow? I would suffer waiting for summer.”

“I remember it vividly.” you said. “Are you feeling nostalgic?”

He ate some of the snacks, offering you some. When you didn’t take it, he pulled on your hair a little bit. It pulled you to wherever he was at, back in time to when things felt much easier than they were. High school was ending, and you were all walking down different paths, none of them leading back to this tent.

“I want you to promise me something.” he said. “After high school, I want us to always be best friends. This last year has made me realize how much I missed you.”

You wanted to tell him how much you missed him, to take his hand and hold it in yours. There was something in you that couldn’t do it. You just kept chewing, waiting for him to keep talking.

“Let’s promise to call each other at least once a day when we’re adults.” he said, getting this excited look in his eyes. He felt more like the real Haechan right then than he ever had in the past five years.

“Promise.” you said, holding out your pinky and getting ready to kiss your thumb.

Haechan linked his pinky with yours, his thumb connecting to your thumb. You leaned down to kiss it at the same time, your faces coming closer to each other than they had in a long time.

Sadly, after high school, the promise was never kept. The image of him walking away from your backyard was the last time you saw him in any place you called home.

~♡~

You held the phone away from your ear because it was too hot. In your other hand, you held a cold, strawberry smoothie, the condensation dripping down your fingers. The sidewalks were busy, so it was tricky trying to weave in and out of the people, all while holding an unfinished manuscript for the next book you were writing. Years of dodging kids in school hallways made you a pro. As you were about to collide with a delivery man, you spun around gracefully and avoided disaster. After taking a sip of smoothie, you brought the phone closer to your ear.

“Do people still do book signings for physical copies?” you asked. “I thought everything was about selfies now. I definitely don’t look good with the flash on.”

“Of course.” your agent told you over the phone. “I don’t think anyone over the age of existence does. How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.” you said.

Your agent on the other end sighed. “You’re too young to be worried about any of this. I’ll book you for the signing and people will come, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You wanted to rattle off all the reasons you were freaking out over it, but you were in public. You took another sip of smoothie and looked at the manuscript tucked against your body. Twenty-four and published, with your book rising in the charts, and a second book underway. You shouldn’t be so scared to have human interactions with strangers who enjoy your work, and yet...

“Okay.” you said, closing your eyes for a moment.” Okay, you can do it. I don’t know why I get like this. Seriously, you’re the best.”

“I know. I know.” your agent said. “Take a bath and relax. Call me later.”

You hung up and threw your phone in the deep recesses of your bag. Your one hand was wet, and you didn’t want it touching the papers, so you tucked them deeper against your body and kept on walking.

~♡~

“A book signing. Can you believe it?” you said into the phone. There was no answer on the other end, not even a little static. You walked a little slower on the sidewalk, letting the outside world disappear from your vision. You took a deep breath. “I sold so many copies, mom. I know you would be proud of me.”

The message ended with a beep. You left the phone on your ear and stopped walking. You stood still, wondering if one day calling your mother and leaving messages on her old cell phone would eventually make you feel better. She died shortly after you graduated from high school, and the phone number was the only part of her still kept alive. You called it whenever you felt a little lost, or on days when you had exciting news to share.

Feeling a tightness in your chest, you turned off your phone and dropped it into your bag. You were almost home, but you felt like you weren’t ready to face your apartment again. You found it so funny that your professional life was so full and booked, but your personal life was so hollow and empty.

You turned away, thinking that you could retrace your steps and find yourself on a street with a cafe still open. You would gladly sit at that table and write, watching strangers living their lives, each one stuffed to the brim of character. Men that tried hitting on women who were disinterested, the click-clacking of their heels walking away from potential danger. Mothers with their children, each child holding a mushy, spit-covered ice cream cone. There was always someone who didn’t belong in the crowd, someone your eyes glossed over, and someone who brought up memories of someone you used to know. It was your favorite pastime: watching people who weren’t watching you. You smiled at the thought of getting to live those many lives, when you remembered that there was always a writing deadline to attend to.

Another time, you thought, before taking the remaining steps to your apartment and looking through the darkened glass front door. Maybe you would take up your agent's suggestion of taking a bath.

Feeling a little more jolly, you walked up the steps and let yourself in. You stopped to check your mailbox (empty), stopped to check your phone messages one last time (also empty), and lastly, checked your surroundings. When you were sure no one was around, you walked up the steps, feeling tired both mentally and physically. When you reached the top of the hallway, you stopped.

“Haechan.” you said, his name too quiet for him to hear.

Sitting outside your door, a hood over his head, sat the boy who used to pull on your ponytail. Only now, the figure in all-black clothes, a little 5 o’clock shadow on his face, the one that looked up at you like he didn’t recognize you, pulled at your heartstrings.

~♡~

You liked to remember Haechan often, especially considering the main character of your book was written with him in mind. Well, you changed his name in the book and made him a lot cooler, but the core of him was the same. Both men were the epicenter of your whole world, even though one of them had left years ago.

Looking at him sitting on your floor transported you back in time. Briefly, your mind tried to convince yourself that you were seeing a ghost from the past. But, when he got up from the floor, approaching you cautiously, and he paused for a second before reaching out his arms to hug you, your fingertips knew what your brain didn’t: he was real.

“Why are you here?” you blurted, pulling away from him, your body regretful that you had let him go.

“I don’t get a hello?” he asked.

You raised your eyebrows, the surprise on your face real. You were struggling with words, which annoyed you as a writer. All you could do was look at his face and how much it had changed over the last few years. He was a man now. He was a little taller, and the baby fat on his cheeks was gone. He still couldn’t dress right, and the old confidence faded, but he was still as handsome as ever. When he smiled to show that he was joking, you couldn’t stop looking at his teeth.

“How did you find out where I live?” you asked.

“Your dad.” he said.

Haechan didn’t so much as give his apologies for missing your mother’s funeral, and he had the good graces not to bring her up at all. You felt grateful, saving the pain of both things for another time.

“I don’t talk to him much anymore.” you said. “He only comes by to give me old things he thinks I want.”

Not knowing what to do with the piece of information, Haechan shoved his hands into his pockets. You hated how awkward it felt being in front of him. The silence outside of your apartment was magnified by your deep breathing.

“Are you here because of my book?” you asked.

Puzzled, Haechan blinked. “Book? I didn’t read your book.”

You adjusted your bag in your hands and thought of something to say. Before you could speak, Haechan motioned to the bag he brought sitting in front of your apartment door. You looked at it, the big black boulder holding no significance to you.

“I was actually just passing through town. I was wondering if you could let me stay a night.” he said.

Him

He said he hated the apples, even though they were his favorite fruit. He put them on your lunch tray when you weren’t looking, because if you’d seen him do it, you would have made a fuss. Then, he’d get up from your table and go back to wherever his other friends were, because that was what was expected of him. But his eyes always went back to your table to make sure you were eating well, and he would try his best to remember the way you’d smile when you looked down and saw what he had left behind.

He hated school. It was full of adults who tried to change him. Laugh a little less, they said. Don’t be a clown. Don’t make too much trouble. There was never any room for dreamers or troublemakers, never any kind of future for those who didn’t have plans by the time they were pulled from the womb. Behave and listen. Listen and learn, or we’ll call your parents. He had heard it all by the time he was thirteen, and he hated every bit of it.

Not you, though. You never tried to change him. You let him go on his way, even though he knew you felt like he was abandoning you. You were the only person he trusted most days, and in the tent in your backyard, he had felt most like himself.

“I don’t want to hear it.” you had said once. You were angry, he could see it in the way you tried not to say what you wanted to say. “I don’t know why you’re friends with those people.”

He hadn’t known, either. They liked the way he made them laugh, and he liked the attention they gave him. They were different, in the way that they didn’t remind him that friendships were temporary, that everyone you know might someday disappear. He was terrified of that, of the idea that good things didn’t last.

“Are you jealous?” he asked.

He wanted the words to sting. He knew you were jealous, and he knew you would never admit to it. He would have been jealous, too, if the roles were reversed. He wanted nothing more than for you to admit that you cared about him, that you loved him, or to rouse any kind of feeling in you at all. Those words spawned a fight that made it hard for either of you to bounce back from. He pulled and picked at you until you were deteriorating in front of his eyes. Choice words were said, and though the wounds healed as you both grew older, neither of you really forgot the beginning of the end.

Summer came and went, time never slowing down for anybody. The hatred burning in his heart subsided as he grew into himself more, though he never really learned how to savor the moments as they happened. He was always reaching for more, stuffing his greedy face full of anything that could keep him content.

His phone calls to you melted down to just one call per week. He didn’t stop by the tent as much, didn’t ask to catch up on homework. He was drifting through school, using the passage of time to measure the length of girls legs, and how they’d move in his direction any time he smiled.

“Maybe you should date, too,” he had said.

His bright idea didn’t rub off on you. You didn’t smile, didn’t look at him the excited way he looked at you. When you shut it down so quickly, he wondered if your rejection had something to do with him. He was trying really hard to keep your friendship alive, even catching up in the hallways before class to make sure you were taking care of yourself.

“Do you have anyone in mind?” you asked, a simple smile appearing and disappearing before he could blink.

Introducing you to one of his friends, in hindsight, wasn’t the best idea. He’d had better, but he could hardly take it back. You looked happy when his friend's attention was on you. You were radiant. And it was the perfect set-up. You both could double date and spend time together, just like the old days, even making both of your dates uncomfortable by how close of a bond you had together.

When the jealousy arrived in a perfect little handbasket, he was sure it was payback for treating you differently, as he was getting to know himself more. He burned whenever he saw you with the other boy, whenever you reached out for his hand, your lips quivering for a kiss. He would stay up late at night in a restless fit, his mind taking turns convincing himself that you were losing your virginity every waking moment.

“You’re spending a lot of time at my house.” you had said to him on more than one occasion.

“Do you mind?” he asked. “I can go home, if you want.”

“No.” you said quickly, your eyes sparkling.

He wanted to kiss you then. It was a fleeting , special moment, and it hovered in the air between you both from that moment forward. He thought maybe he was imagining it, but he had been close to many girls, and no one looked at him the way you did.

Sitting in your tent, his legs stretched out of it because he was too big, he thought back to every time you made his heart do backflips in his chest. Ever since you were small, he had feelings for you. In fact, his parents used to joke that the two of you would end up together one day, maybe have a wedding in the backyard, your inside jokes written into your vows.

Hearing leaves crunching underfoot, he sat up. “You still sit in this thing?” he asked.

You sat down next to him, the plastic of the tent hitting you in the forehead. “When I need to think.”

“You have a brain?”

“Funny.” you said. “Why are you here?”

He wasn’t sure why. He had been taking a walk and found himself there, his feet knowing exactly where to go. He had been thinking too hard about life after high school, and about what kind of man he wanted to be.

“Life is moving too fast,” he said. “Remember when we were kids and it moved so slow? I would suffer waiting for summer.”

“I remember it vividly.” you said. “Are you feeling nostalgic?”

He ate some of the snacks, offering you some. When you didn’t take it, he pulled on your hair a little bit. Getting you to eat properly was important to him. If he wasn’t around to remind you to take care of yourself, how would you survive the rest of life without him?

“I want you to promise me something.” he said. “After high school, I want us to always be best friends. This last year has made me realize how much I missed you.”

When he felt like he was going to cry, he shoved more food into his face. He was watching you out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he should continue. When you remained quiet, he began again.

“Promise.” you said, holding out your pinky and getting ready to kiss your thumb.

Haechan linked his pinky with yours, his thumb connecting to your thumb. You leaned down to kiss it at the same time, your faces coming closer to each other than they had in a long time. It would be so easy to seal the deal with a real kiss, one that had been years in the making. But he didn’t, and neither did you.

“I have to go.” he said, getting to his feet. “You’re going to keep your promise, right?”

“Have I ever broken a promise to you?” you asked.

~♡~

He was raised not to comment on the state of other people’s homes, good or not. Looking around yours, he wanted so badly to tell you how well you were doing for yourself, and how proud of you he was. He looked around, his fingers itching to touch the pretty ceramic birds on an end table, to run a fingertip on a dustless counter and hold it up to the light.

“You can put your bag down over here.” you said, motioning to a spot beside the couch. “My couch isn’t much, but it is comfortable.”

You were a little awkward, your eyes unable to connect with his. He could see your mind waiting to defend yourself against the little jabs old Haechan would have made about your space. When he didn’t, you didn’t let your shoulders relax. He moved further inside your apartment, and to your confusion, he said it was a nice place, and that he would be happy to sleep wherever.

Compared to your nerves, he was quite calm. He felt like he had walked into a time machine and transported himself into the backyard again. It was like nothing had changed at all. You still looked the same, with nicer clothes that looked more expensive than the average persons. It looked like you went to the hair salon to ask for an “adult” haircut, but your baby face made it hard to take you seriously.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Haechan shrugged. “Sure.”

When you didn’t ask if he was hungry, Haechan made himself comfortable on the couch. You sat on an opposite chair, folding your hands in your lap. You kept looking around the room nervously, as if you were scared to be alone with a stranger. It hurt him a little bit, but he was mature enough to let it slide.

“Thank you for letting me stay.” he said.

“It’s fine.”

Haechan sighed. “This is much harder than I thought it would be.”

“What is?” you asked, touching your fingers to your neck.

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

You got up from your chair as if you’d been electrocuted. “I forgot I need to make a phone call. I will be right back. Don’t touch anything.”

Haechan watched you as you grabbed your bag and left the room. Never one to keep still, an old habit that never died, he got up and looked around. He came across the room you entered and saw that the door was ajar. He didn’t listen to the conversation, just grabbed little pieces of it regarding a book signing to take place the next day.

“So soon?” he heard you ask the person on the other end of the phone.

Haechan walked away, his attention set on the fireplace. On top of it sat a bunch of picture frames, one of which he was in. Haechan stared at it for a long time, his eyes tracing the outline of the little boy he used to be. In the picture, the two of you were hanging onto each other. You were maybe eight years old, ice cream running down your chin, and a blissful ignorance only a child can carry on your sweet face.

He didn’t know where things had gone wrong. The two of you should have been friends forever. It just made sense. He reached out to touch his fingers to the photo but reeled back when he saw your face in the reflection.

“My mother took that photo.” you said, appearing behind him.

He nodded. “I remember.”

The air was heavy. He wanted to apologize for not going to her funeral. He had been out of the country during that time, but he should have called you. He could have written a letter, he could have done anything else but ignore it.

“I was scared.” Haechan said, the words surprising himself.

You held up a hand, as if you didn’t want to talk about it, but Haechan continued, “I loved her, too.”

You turned your back and went into the kitchen. Quietly, Haechan followed. He wasn’t going to bring it up anymore. He sensed your sadness because it brewed in his chest, too. He sat on a stool as you got yourself a cup and poured cold water from a pitcher into it.

“How was your trip?” you asked, your voice shaky.” Are you still traveling?”

Since he left high school, Haechan felt aimless. He needed to explore the world in an attempt to further his education surrounding himself. He had traveled to many countries and met many people that changed him. Disappearing was never the plan, but it was addicting to not have phone calls, or to adhere to schedules.

“I’m seeing where it goes.” he said.

You took a sip of water and never stopped looking at him. When you were done, you placed it on the counter. “I guess I should ask the million dollar question.”

Haechan leaned back in his stool, “Hit me with what you got.”

“Why are you here?” you asked.

“I didn’t want to pay for a hotel.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not a liar.”

“Haechan, I’ve known you all my life.” you said. “Lying is your calling.”

“I wanted to see you.”

You inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.” he said. “I’ve never lied to you.”

The bitterness was morphing your face. He could tell you were thinking back to the promise, about how broken it had made you. After he left, he heard from his parents that you called his house often to ask where he had gone. You wrote him letters that were undelivered. You nearly followed him halfway across the world until your mother got sick.

“Okay.” he said. “It wasn’t a lie when I made that promise. I had every intention of being with you until we were old and wrinkly.”

“Please.” you said. “You knew what you were going to do before you did it. You booked the plane ticket two weeks in advance. You were with me at graduation. You kissed me.”

He remembered the kiss well. He had thought about it often on his travels, remembering the way your velvety lips felt, and how he never wanted to stop kissing you. The kiss made sense. It was the one thing time had every permission to slow down.

“I know.” he said.

He kissed you. You didn’t kiss him. He was happy about graduating. He was riding the high of the plane ticket, of the unknown waiting for him. He was scared it was the last chance he had to show you his feelings. When you kissed him back and it felt so good, he was then scared that he would never have the guts to leave.

You continued speaking, each word obliterating his thoughts, “ You want to think going away was just some spontaneous thrill, Haechan, but it fucking wasn’t. You could have told me it was what you wanted. I would have understood. You didn’t have to leave without saying goodbye. You didn’t have to-”

You couldn’t say the words, so he finished them for you. “-leave. I know. I’m sorry. This isn’t an excuse, but I...didn’t want to lose you.”

The words felt stupid as soon as he said them. You held your hand up to your head and said you had a headache. Haechan took the time to excuse himself and use the bathroom, locking himself away to figure out what he really thought was going to happen when he showed up at your door to get you back.

You

You collapsed onto your couch. The last hour felt like a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. You were older and more equipped to handle confrontation, but there was something about seeing Haechan that made you want to curl in your mother’s lap like a child. You bit down on your thumb and thought of the ways you could ask him to leave your private space. There was a hotel down the street that was relatively cheap.

You looked at the photo on the fireplace. The little boy staring back at you had no idea one day he would break your heart into a million pieces. He was still a little unsure of himself, his smile unknowingly gearing up to be mischievous in a few years time. You thought of the grown man in the bathroom, and how the years had passed, but he still felt the same. A part of you wanted to pinch his cheek and wrap your arms around him like you would when you were young. An even bigger part of you wanted to kiss him to see if the feelings still lingered, even though you already knew the answer to that.

Moving your foot, you accidentally nudged his backpack. You looked down at it. It was worn in places, with band buttons adorning the front. One of the zippers was open and the edge of something was sticking out. You looked at your closed bathroom door and back to the backpack before gathering up your courage and unzipping it slowly.

Digging your hand inside, you pulled out a corner of his underwear. With a quick “Ew”, you shoved it back inside. Your knuckle touched against something hard. You wrapped your hand around it and unearthed it to see that it was your book. You pulled it out even more and audibly gasped.

“You liar.” you whispered.

Hearing the toilet flush, you panicked and pulled the book all the way out and shoved it underneath your couch pillow. Quickly, you zipped his backpack and sat back, crossing one leg over the other. When Haechan came out, he hardly looked at you.

“Coming here was a bad idea,” he said. “I don’t know what I expected.”

You stood up. “Wait.”

Haechan didn’t hear you. He grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. You could see that his face was wet where he had thrown water on it. He didn’t make eye contact with you, just waved his hand and apologized for being an inconvenience.

“Leaving again?” you said.

Haechan stopped moving. He turned back. “I thought about you every day I was gone. Every day. And every day, my next thought was that I didn’t deserve you.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you said nothing at all. For a beat or two, you both stared, your eyes searching each other's. You could see every age of Haechan since you’d known him on his face, from the adorable child to the handsome adult.

You let Haechan leave this time. He closed the door with a soft click, his presence feeling like a fever dream. Mindlessly, you sat back down on your couch, and only remembered the book still laying there after some time.

You took your book and placed it on your lap. It was so worn that some of the pages were slipping out of the binding. You opened it carefully and flipped through the pages, the margins filled up with black pen ink. Haechan had written down his input on most pages with things like:

Am I really like this? There is no way this guy is cooler than me.

You know? You’re actually kind of funny.

Your mother was better than us all.

You closed the book with a snap and felt the tears falling. You put your head down and tried to feel everything all at once.

~♡~

Your agent walked next to you, her stride slowing to match yours. She didn’t outright say you looked like shit, though it was the truth. Your eyes were a little red, your cheeks were puffy, and you kept itching your neck all throughout the night until there were red scratch marks all on your skin.

She held open the door to the bookstore “Are you nervous?”

“Am I nervous?” you asked. “I’m shitting myself. I don’t think anyone is going to show up, but with my life, I’m pretty sure I can deal with the embarrassment.”

Your agent rattled on and on about how special you were to people. She dragged you throughout the two story bookstore, pulling you harder when you tried stalling. You mostly blocked out her words to save your sanity. You didn’t love when people tried buttering you up.

“Just over in this section.” she said. “It starts in twenty minutes, so don’t expect many people right away.”

When you both turned the corner, there was a sizable line leading up to a table stacked with new books. When the people saw you, they gawked. Some clapped, which made your face turn as hot as your neck.

“I can’t do this.” you whispered.

Your agent directed you to a chair, holding you down by your shoulders, so you wouldn’t run away. You took a sip of cold water sitting by your side.

“They’re all here for you.” she said. “Smile and try to be happy.”

“I’ll try.” you said, but when someone smiled at you in front of the line, you felt yourself returning a genuine smile.

Twenty minutes passed by faster than you wished. When the first person approached the table, you tried to remember your school teachers who believed in you. You recalled all the people who inspired your stories, making a mental bid to thank them for making the first signing so sweet.

“I really love how you write.” someone had said. Hearing those words made you feel touched. You tried your hardest not to tear up, signing your sloppy signature as best you could.

“Thank you.” you said, the gratitude you felt hopefully being translated well.

You signed for a long time, the line growing and growing as time passed. Some people came with their own dog-eared books, others with fresh copies. They asked what your upcoming book was about, which made you excited to finish writing it.

“There isn’t a set ending quite yet, but I’m writing like crazy!” you said.

You looked down at a book before you and smiled, your fingers touching the pages softly. You signed it and handed it back, giving the fan a smile that reached your eyes. When your eyes locked with his, you felt the world move. Staring back at you was Haechan.

“I would have given you my own copy to sign.” he said. “But I seem to have misplaced it.”

There was a knowing smile on his face that made you feel flushed all over. He took the signed book back and tucked it underneath his arm. Since yesterday, he looked freshly showered in a similar black t-shirt and jeans. His hair was carefully laid flat on his head like he cared what he looked like in public. He looked handsome, and his cheeks were definitely not puffy.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you read the book?” you asked.

“You and I both know I don’t make the best choices.” he said.

You smiled faintly. There was pain in the smile he returned. You wanted so badly to reach across the table and smooth away the lines on his forehead.

“I know this isn’t the best place.” he said, turning around to look at the line behind him. “But I came here to tell you the truth of why I was outside of your door yesterday.”

“Okay.” you said, your attention no longer on those people.

Haechan continued. “You see, I’m not traveling anymore. “

“You’re not?” you asked. “Then, what are you doing?”

“I’m coming home.”

You didn’t know what he expected of you, but he looked a little deflated when you held out your hand. He looked at the book under his arm and back at your hand, his smile unsure. He took the book out and placed it gently into the palm of your hand. You placed the book back onto the table and opened to the space where you had signed your name.

“I’m not going to ask for promises anymore.” you said. “I’ve always asked you for too much. For now, I would just like to tell you something.”

In the book, just below your name, you signed “I love you, Haechan.”

Before you could even close the book, Haechan came around the table and brought you into a big hug that certainly felt like home.

#haechan #donghyuck #lee donghyuck #lee haechan #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #haechan fluff #haechan fanfiction #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck fanfiction #nct haechan #nct fluff #nct fanfiction

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aliwritesfic · 3 years ago

Text

The Night Shift part 5 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Quick summary: You learn the meaning behind Frankie's nickname

Warnings: None, I think, please let me know if I need to add some <3

W/C: 1.7k

Spotify (mainly just vibes, some songs have meaning, also updated regularly)

Part 1 Part 6

The smell of cooking bacon made your stomach growl as you entered the diner on Tuesday evening. You hadn’t eaten much all day, just a piece of toast and a handful of stale cheerios. Frankie was in the kitchen, his back to you. Your throat dried at the sight of him, remembering what you had done and how you had fantasized about him only a few hours earlier.

“Hi, Frankie,” you said, pushing thoughts of what you wanted him to do with his hands out of your mind. Stop being such a hornbag! You scolded yourself. Then he set those dark brown eyes on you and your brain ceased to function. Could he see your secret written on your face?

“Hey,” he said, smiling up at you. “You look tired.”

You almost sighed in relief. Maybe he couldn’t tell at all. You grabbed the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup. “I didn’t sleep much today. I was . . . worried about the kitten.” It wasn’t a whole lie; you really were worried about the kitten. The vet hadn’t sent you any updates, and you hoped that was a good thing.

“Are you gonna keep the kitten, if she lives?” Frankie flipped eggs as he spoke and set up a couple of plates.

“I can’t,” you grimaced, “Kurt would never go for it. He’s not really a fan of pets.”

Frankie made a face. “Not even adorable kittens?”

“Not even then,” you sighed. “It’s fine, though. It’s not like I have the time to properly care for one. I’m here most nights and I’m so busy with housework during the day when I’m not sleeping that it just- it just wouldn’t work.”

You kept your tone light, aware that customers could be listening. You didn’t want to scare off any tips with how miserable the subject made you. Frankie seemed to understand, because he didn’t bring the subject back up.

You were surprised at how easily you two worked together. Completely in sync when you had to be, entire sentences seemed to be translated through quick looks and raised eyebrows. This guy is a serial complainer. Want me to do something about those frat boys? Can you pretty please make me one of whatever this lady’s having?

All too soon it was 5:30 and the morning crew was there, breaking the comfortable silence between you. You found yourself lingering again, although you weren’t sure what for. You didn’t exactly need to stay. But still.

~*~

Frankie was shocked to see you still there. He was pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket when he saw you, standing outside, shivering in the early spring air.

“Thought’d you’d be halfway home by now,” he said, but he was still pleased to see you. He had come to the conclusion last night that you had a boyfriend, he would respect that and not make any untoward moves on you. Friendship suited him fine, even if he did think your boyfriend was a bit of a freak for not wanting a pet.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” Frankie prompted.

“How’d you get the nickname Catfish?”

At this, Frankie’s lips twitched. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Before we were deployed, the boys and I went on a fishing trip. Well, one thing led to another and I had a huge catfish on my hook. This was a catch and release type of situation, you know?” When you nodded, he continued. “So, I reach in this creatures mouth to unhook it, and the bastard clamps down! Whole hand, in its mouth! And the thing about catfish, is they don’t have teeth, so they can’t technically bite, but they suck. It was like my hand was in a vacuum seal. When I eventually managed to get it out, no help from the boys mind you, it looked like a giant hickey on my hand. So, that’s where the nickname comes from.”

You snorted with laughter, and Frankie began to laugh too. At the time, it hadn’t been funny but looking back, he knew he would have been laughing his ass off if it happened to any of the other boys.

“I think Santi got a photo of it, I’ll try and find it for you if you want,” Frankie said. You nodded eagerly, wiping a tear from your eye.

“Please do, I’d love to see it,” you said with a grin that made his heart do something it really shouldn’t. Frankie nodded, making a mental note to call Santi and demand that the bastard rip apart his house to find it if he had to.

You turned to leave, and before he could stop himself, he was asking “do you want a ride?” Friends gave each other rides when they needed it, he reasoned. You hesitated, and Frankie kicked himself. Of course he’d overstepped. You didn’t know him that well, he was just the fry cook.

“Uh, yeah actually. It looks like it might rain.”

As if you had summoned it, thunder rumbled low overhead. Fat drops of rain began to fall slowly painting the ground. Frankie jangled his keys and you both sprinted to his truck. He opened your door for you, and ran around to his side. He didn’t miss that you sat with your back ridgid, your hands curled so tightly your knuckles were white.

“You okay?” he asked, although you obviously were not.

“Yeah, no, it’s just . . . You’re aware your truck looks like a death trap?”

Frankie snorted. He was very aware of this, but he was also very aware of what was under the hood. He trusted this truck more than any fancy modern car. Still. He decided that this was the perfect opportunity to mess with you. Just to see how you responded.

“Have you ever seen The Fast and The Furious?” He began, and you raised an eyebrow at him, your face skeptical. “Tokyo Drift, specifically. Well, this truck won me the title of Drift King several years in a row. That’s how well she runs.”

“Oh, fuck off!” You rolled your eyes, but you were laughing. “That’s not even slightly believable.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But how cool would it be if it were true.”

You rolled your eyes again, but you were smiling as you did it, and Frankie counted that as a victory. You gave him directions as he drove, surprising him with how close you lived to him. Only a five minute drive away. How long had you been this close? How had he never noticed you in the neighbourhood? Had he been blind, all these years?

“Thank you,” you said quietly as he pulled up outside your building, a three story walk up with a faded brick facade. The rain was coming down hard now, and lightning flashed.

“Anytime,” Frankie said in a tone that he truly meant any time. You nodded and ran through the rain, disappearing into the building. Frankie idled for a moment, wishing he could call you back and kiss you goodbye.

But he didn’t, because it wasn’t decent and it wasn’t what friends did. Friends didn’t crush on their friend like a fucking idiot kid.

So Frankie drove himself home and drove all thoughts of your mouth out of his head. That was until he checked his phone, and saw a text from an unknown number.

Thanks for the ride, I really appreciate it :) sent 5:57AM

Frankie quickly saved your number in his phone, not taking the risk of losing it somehow. A second message from you buzzed through.

Oh and lunch on Sunday is at Taylor’s Bistro, on High Street if you still wanna come sent 6:01AM

Frankie wrote his message quickly.

Wouldn’t miss it x

He stared at it for too long, erased the x, replaced it with a smiley face and hit send before he could overthink it entirely. Then he remembered his promise to you, and called Santi almost instantly.

“Fish, what the fuck man? It’s four in the morning,” Santi groaned into the phone.

“It’s six you dope, but I need a favour,” Frankie said.

“Money?”

“No, man, nothing like that. Do you still have that photo of the catfish on my hand?”

“Yeah I’ve got a copy in my wallet.” Santi sounded more awake, and Frankie could hear his fancy espresso machine whir to life.

“Why do you- nevermind. Look, I need a copy ASAP.”

“What for? If it’s to destroy it just know I’ve thought ahead and I’ve got four physical copies and one in the Cloud.”

“No, nothing like that. It’s for a girl at work, she asked how I got my callsign and now I’ve gotta show her the photo.”

“Oh?” Santi sounded intrigued. “Who’s this girl?”

“A friend,” Frankie said a little forcefully. “She has a boyfriend.” As if that closed the matter. Apparently, it didn’t.

“Why should that stop you?” Santi asked. “You’re hot, I don’t know this chick but she’d be blind to not be into you.”

“Well, for one, my brain isn’t directly wired with my dick.” At this, Santiago scoffed. Frankie continued, ignoring him. “Secondly, she’s like, twenty five or six. She’s probably not into old guys.”

“You’re thirty-three, you’re not old. Also, chicks dig DILFs.”

“I don’t have a kid.”

“And yet you still have big DILF energy. I wonder if there are any little Francisco’s running around that we have yet to discover.”

“Shut the fuck up, man, it’s bad luck to say that kind of shit. Just get the photo to me, please.”

Santiago roared with laughter as Frankie hung up. Trust Santiago to work one of his deepest fears into conversation. Frankie wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of: having children, or having children and having no clue they existed. It wasn’t that he was against having kids altogether, it was just he knew he wasn’t in the right headspace to take care of someone who depended on him entirely. Some days he forgot to take care of himself, he didn’t want a kid to suffer. It wouldn’t be fair.

He brushed the thought aside as he climbed into bed. It was bad luck to linger on bad thoughts, at least, that’s what his abuela always told him whenever he complained about something as a kid.

He wasn’t sure why exactly he had told you that there was photographic evidence of a catfish latched onto his hand. Maybe he wanted to impress you? But no, he reasoned, there was nothing impressive about that. It was just plain embarrassing. He realised with a start that what he wanted was willing to do anything to hear your laugh again.

Taglist: @hnt-escape @sharkbait77 @1800-fight-me @annathewitch @darnitdraco @frankiecatfish

#the night shift #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier

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dickwheelie · 4 years ago

Text

heyyyy coming in a few days early with the “expression” prompt for @aspecarchivesweek! just a lil something about jon wearing a shirt he doesn’t like. enjoy!

(also on ao3)

_______________

All of Jon’s clothes are in greyscale.

Well, this isn’t entirely true—some are a very light tan, or a dingy brown. One mothbitten vest is a glaring 70’s orange that Jon deeply dislikes, so it stays at the back of his closet. These are the clothes he inherited from his parents and possibly also his grandparents, which he can’t bring himself to throw away. The rest, however, strictly range from white to black, practical to a fault.

Jon has a working theory that he may be the first person in history with an allergy to clothing stores. Entering one instantly stresses him out, and all he wants is to get what he came for and get out as quickly as possible. Figuring out how to match colors, as he eventually learns by the time he’s in uni, is a waste of time and consideration. Much easier and simpler to only buy clothes in shades that match no matter how you swap them out.

Of course, there are exceptions, and as life goes on in its chaotic and unaccountable way, he acquires items of clothing he wouldn’t otherwise have picked for himself. A colorful sweater from Georgie as a birthday gift. A free T-shirt from a uni event. He keeps these things for their sentimental value, but rarely wears them out of the house.

However, sometimes life is not only chaotic but also utterly unmanageable. And sometimes Jon finds himself with a promotion he doesn’t really know what to do with, an entire archive to organize, and less time than he’s ever had to do laundry.

And, well. One has to wear something to work, doesn’t one.

This is what Jon keeps telling himself as he miserably pulls on the last clean shirt left in his flat. He should know; he’s checked four times, and if he checks a fifth he’ll be late for work. He gives himself a glance in the small, dirty mirror stuck to the inside of his closet door, and looks away almost immediately, strangely embarrassed.

It’s just a long-sleeved, striped T-shirt, which is maybe a bit unprofessional for the workplace, but it’s not as though anybody minds how the people who work in the basement dress. The problem comes from its colors. Well, one of its colors. Three of them—black, grey, white—are perfectly suitable for Jon. But following those, at the bottom of the shirt, is a glaring, bright violet.

The shirt is a casualty of the aforementioned chaos of life. A friend of an acquaintance had given it to Jon to wear to a pride parade several years back, which he had ended up skipping out on anyway. Since then the shirt had been kept out of sight and mind, packed into the back of Jon’s closet for a rainy day that he’d never really expected to arrive.

There’s a first time for everything, Jon thinks, almost reflexively. The words don’t mean much to him, philosophically speaking, but they are a steadying mantra nonetheless. He goes to pull on his coat; by some measure of luck, it’s a cold day out. He plans not to take it off again until he’s safely back in his flat that night.

The trouble is, of course, that wearing one’s coat while making tea in the break room in an adequately-heated basement looks rather conspicuous to one’s coworkers, and leads to questions.

“You feeling alright, boss?” Tim asks, as he retrieves his bagged lunch from the fridge.

“Yes,” Jon says, stiffly. “Perfectly fine. I’m just cold.”

Sasha, who has followed Tim in, says, “Not sick, I hope.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Jon says again, though he is beginning to feel a bit overheated. “It’s just cold in here. You don’t feel cold?”

Tim and Sasha shake their heads, looking concerned.

“I’m fine,” Jon says for the third time in thirty seconds, and promptly flees the break room.

By late afternoon, Jon is sweltering, and has no choice but to take off the coat. He’s careful to close his office door before he does so, resolving to put it back on if he needs to be seen by anyone for the rest of the day.

Though the garish violet stripe in his periphery is distracting at first, he loses himself in his work soon enough, spending an hour or two tearing through a stack of statements that are, by and large, utter nonsense.

He loses himself in his work so much, in fact, that when there’s a knock at his office door, he says “Come in,” without thinking.

“Hey, Jon,” says Tim as he enters, “d’you have a copy of statement zero-one-three-two . . .”

Tim’s voice drifts off, and Jon looks up, irritated. “Zero-one-three-two-what?”

Tim’s staring at him, an eager expression on his face, and Jon’s stomach goes cold. He looks down at the shirt, remembering, and stops himself from groaning. If he doesn’t react, maybe Tim will leave it alone. “What number were you looking for, Tim?” he says instead, very calmly and professionally.

But of course it doesn’t work. Tim’s face breaks into a smile, and he gives Jon a big, showy once-over. Jon rolls his eyes even before the words are out of Tim’s mouth. “Looking good, boss.”

“Tim, I have even less patience for sarcasm than usual, so if you could please—”

“Who said anything about sarcasm? You look good! Casual, ah, Tuesday suits you, Jon.”

Jon puts his elbows up on his desk and massages his temples. “I ran out of laundry.”

“Ah, been there.” Tim seems to have taken Jon’s resignation as an invitation, because he helps himself to the chair opposite Jon’s desk. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for the pride flag type, though. Don’t even think I’ve seen you with laptop stickers.”

“No,” Jon says, “I’m not. Not usually. This is just the only thing I had lying around. It’s from years ago, I never wear it.”

“Aw.” Tim genuinely looks disappointed. Jon wonders if perhaps he’s losing what remains of his tenuous ability to read people. “That’s a shame. You look good in purple.”

Jon has reached a point in his life, he’s fairly certain, where he ought to have heard such a comment before, or at least know the proper response. In actuality, he cannot recall a single instance of someone in his adult life complimenting his choice of fashion. He looks down at the shirt again. It’s the same as it was before: too-bright and obvious. He highly doubts it could look good on him in any shape or form. “Um. Thank you?” he says, sounding more bewildered than grateful.

“Really! It, like, brings out your eyes, or something. I dunno, but I think it’s nice on you. Not sure why you went through all the trouble to hide it all day.”

Jon shifts in his chair. “It’s . . . I mean, it’s very loud, isn’t it. And obvious. It’ll just attract attention.”

Tim looks at him for a moment or two. “Jon,” he says, “is this just about the shirt? Or is it also about the shirt?”

“That makes no sense, Tim.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jon, admittedly, does. One of the things he appreciates most about Tim is that they can be honest with one another, if only after some customary back-and-forth. He sighs deeply. “It’s—it’s just . . . a lot. I know it isn’t, really, in the grand scheme, it’s just you and Sasha, a-and Martin, too, I suppose. And it’s London, no one’s going to—it’s safe. I know that. B-But it’s a lot, being seen with everything—out in the open. By strangers. To know that they know. And even if they don’t know, they’ll . . . they’ll probably be able to guess.” He stares down at the scratched, cheap wood of his desk. Long ago, someone had carved a tiny pentagram on the lip of it. If Jon’s sense of humor weren’t buried under three layers of anxiety at the moment, he’d probably find it funny. “And I know it’s childish, to care what a bunch of strangers would think. But I can’t . . . I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t just let it go.”

There’s a painfully long pause before Tim speaks up again.

“Well, I’ve got good news for you, Jon.”

Jon looks up at him warily, and finds that Tim is smiling at him. “What?”

He points at Jon’s coat where it hangs off the back of his chair. “You can put that back on.”

Jon blinks at him.

“At five,” Tim goes on, “you can put your coat back on, button it up, and walk out of here, and when you get back to your flat, Jon, you can do your bloody laundry. And you never have to wear that shirt ever again. Problem solved.”

“But . . .” Jon’s voice peters out before he can come up with a real protest.

“If wearing pride colors makes you feel like that,” Tim says, his voice gentler, “then don’t wear them. Simple as that. Not everybody’s got to carry a flag twenty-four-seven. Or ever. Doesn’t make you any less queer. Hell, even I take the pins off my bag sometimes.” Tim squints into the middle distance, muttering, “I can never seem to get the laptop stickers off, though.”

“But—what about what you said about me wearing purple?” He’s grasping at straws, he knows, but Tim’s argument is quite good. And the thought of never wearing this particular shirt again does sound rather appealing.

“So wear an aubergine button-down every once in a while!” Tim shrugs. “Or don’t! It’s none of my business.” He tilts his head to the side. “Actually, please do wear an aubergine button-down sometime. You’d turn some heads down here.” He pauses. “Figuratively, I mean. I’m sure everyone would be very respectful.”

Jon lets out a startled laugh. “Alright,” he says, feeling lighter. He runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe, sometime, I’ll . . . I’ll try it.”

“I know you like your blacks and whites, Jon,” Tim says, “and I’m not here to tell you how to dress. But if you ever need advice, or want to borrow a colorful, strictly nondenominational shirt . . .” He points both thumbs at himself. “I’m your guy.”

“Okay,” Jon says, and is surprised to find that, in this one, specific case, he is.

“And,” Tim adds, pointing a professorial finger in the air, “it’s not childish to care about what other people think of you. Pretty sure it’s the most universal thing there is. Welcome to the human race, Jon. You’re among us peons, now.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “How unfortunate,” he says, drily, and Tim cackles.

Jon wears his coat home, keeping it carefully buttoned, and when he gets back to his flat he tosses the shirt into the back of his closet from whence it came. He’s not going to throw it away altogether, of course. It has sentimental value. Someday, maybe, he’ll dig it back up, if only just to look at.

For now, Jon does his bloody laundry.

#tma #the magnus archives #AspecArchives #aspecarchivesweek #gwyneth writes #it's ok jon i'm allergic to clothing stores too

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bbdaydreams · 4 years ago

Text

Courage My Love// Semi Eita

Pairing: Semi Eita x Reader

Summary: You like Semi and come up with a plan to confess to him, unfortunately it takes a turn. You meet again a couple years later by chance.

Chapter Four: Disappear

Warning: suggestive nsfw. Nothing explicit at all. STORY TAKES PLACE AFTER HIGH SCHOOL MEANING THEY ARE NO LONGER MINORS.

Series Masterlist•<previous•next>

—————

“Does he sing to all your music while you dance to "Purple Rain"? Does he do all these things, like I used to?”

“Eita! Stop! You’re making us depressed with all the sad songs you’ve been writing!” Ranmaru told the lead vocalist.

Semi put his palm over the strings of the acoustic guitar so they’d stop ringing and let his body relax against the cold wall behind him. “Sorry, can’t help it,” he mumbled.

Semi never got his chance to talk to you after graduation. He did notice that you only blocked his number and not his social medias but that was all he needed to know that you didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t want to send you a direct message, solely because he was scared you’d end up blocking him on whatever platform he used. The last thing he wanted was to be completely out of your life. Even though he isn’t directly in your life, he still wants to support you from the side lines. Funny how things used to be the other way around.

“Guys, we should make him a tinder,” Subaru spoke.

“What? No! I don’t want one! I’m not ready,” Semi huffed.

“Eita, it’s been like three years. You’re twenty one now. I’m sorry but we’re tired of seeing you like this all the time. We can’t relate to what you’re going through but we can empathize with you. We can imagine how much pain you’re in and we want to help you,” Jiro argued.

“I’ve gone on a couple dates already and they were all bad. What’s talking to even more strangers gonna do?”

“Show you that there’s other people out there. I know you’ve seen me in an out of relationships a lot but I don’t regret a single one. They’ve each taught me something. Also I’m gonna be very blunt, you can’t miss what you never had. You’ve got to let go dude,” Ranmaru added.

“But I-“

“No Eita, you didn’t have them. You were only friends. Just give a chance? Please,” Subaru finished.

Semi took a look around the room before nodding his head yes. He could guess that his band mates were probably tired of dealing with him. They’re in college now trying to finish their education to have a back up plan since they still haven’t taken off yet but at the end of the day he knew the band comes first. It always has but the band is only as fun as you make it to be. They could play their instruments all they want but they have to play them in a way that fits the mood of the song and since Semi has been struggling with writing more upbeat catchy tunes, the sad boy crap gets repetitive. The others had to accommodate to him because of how much trouble he was having.

“I’ll download it now.”

“Y/n! Smile!” Tendou yelled before snapping a picture of you with his phone.

“Tendou, stop!” You laughed while reaching for his phone. He raised his arms to increase the distance and joined with you in your laughter.

“I’m sorry but you’re just so cute.”

You and him were currently walking back to your place from a date. After graduation, Tendou continued school and you moved into a small house with your band mates to make your living situation easier for all of you. You guys have gone on tours and such but you still haven’t had your big break through.

When you got to your home you invited Tendou inside and since no one else was home you didn’t have to greet them all before going into your room. “Whatcha wanna watch?” You asked him as you sat in your bed while flipping through channels.

“I’m down for anything,” he responded, getting into bed with you and attempting to lay on you. Picking a random show, you set the remote down before relaxing and combing your fingers through his hair which was now quiet long and down, different from how he had it in high school.

You two stayed in that position for a couple minutes while your mind started to wander off. Three years since you and the girls, two for Haruka, graduated and chose not to continue with school because the label seemed promising. Your band is currently working on an album after having multiple demos made and working part time jobs to have a more stable source of income. But also three years you spent with Tendou as your lover. And all of that was going to end soon because he was moving across the world for his career.

Three years is a lot of time to spend with someone romantically, especially when you’ve known them for longer. It’s not something you can just up and forget but unfortunately the both of you will have to move on. Tendou was still laying on you peacefully until he left a wet droplet on his face. Immediately he looked up and saw you with your eyes closed in at attempt to stop your tears. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he spoke softly, reaching a hand out to cup your face. You opened your eyes to look at him and gave him a sad smile that he returned. “Even when you cry, you’re beautiful, my paradise.”

Words of comfort was something Tendou never lacked. There was never a single time you’d consider him a bad boyfriend. And you were grateful to have him in your life. “I’m sorry,” you apologized for crying.

“It’s alright,” he laughed before sitting up to kiss you. This was your last day together before he left. Knowing that, you both gradually intensified the kiss that lead to more kisses. Kisses that lead to wandering hands. Wandering hands leading to the action that you both know would be the last time you were intimate together before Tendou left to his home to grab his luggage before heading off to the airport, to take a flight to France.

Once all the aftercare was done you slept in his arms for a good two hours until he woke up from the alarm he set on his phone. He knew better than to leave without saying a word so he woke you up too. “Paradise, wake up. I gotta go.” You unwillingly opened your eyes and rubbed them before focusing on him, his form already up and out of the bed. “I’ll miss you,” he started when he stood at your door, “thank you for giving me a chance.”

You looked at him with glossy eyes as he looked at you with his. Getting up from your bed you managed to make your way towards him to give him a kiss, your guy’s final kiss. Your relationship was now mutually over.

“I had so much fun on our date, Semi! You really are a great guy!”

“Thanks, I try,” Semi laughed as he lead the girl he was seeing to his dorm. Semi has been seeing this girl from his government course for about a month now and things seem to be going pretty well so far.

When they got to his dorm, she noticed his guitar and a couple of papers that had scribbles on them. “Oh? You play guitar? And you write music?” She asked innocently.

“Yeah I do.”

“Could you play me a song? Please?”

“Sure. I’ll even sing you one inspired by you,” Semi spoke smoothly. Being in the scene, Semi did pick up a thing or two on how to talk to girls, Subaru called it fan service.

Picking up the acoustic guitar on its stand, he gestured for her to take a seat on his bed while he sat down in a chair across from her. With the pick he retrieved from his pocket he proceeded to pluck each string to make sure it was tuned before playing a couple chords to make sure they sounded good as well. He looked up at her and took note of the smile on her face before looking back down at the guitar and playing a song he had finished writing about her two days ago. When he had finished, he looked up and was greeted with a frown. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately setting the guitar down and walking towards her to cup her face. “Did you not like the song?”

“Semi, don’t touch me! Who is that song about?” she asked him, standing up so they were more level.

“It’s about you, babe-“

“Don’t call me babe either! Semi, we’re done!”

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean why? There’s clearly someone else! There’s no way that song is about me! My eyes aren’t that color and neither is my hair! I sound nothing like the girl in the song that you claim to love!”

“Let me explain-“

“There’s nothing to explain, Semi! Good night. We’re done,” she finished before walking out and slamming Semi’s door in the process. Burying his face into his pillow, Semi let out a grunt, not realizing his roommate had come in.

“I stopped by the cafeteria after my study group. I brought you a juice,” Subaru offered when he saw the ash blonde face down.

“Not in the mood, dude.”

“Fine. No juice for you.”

About two months after you and Tendou split up, your band’s album was released. All four of you were in awe when you first saw your first album in a store.

“It’s like.... our baby,” Haruka stated while looking through the glass.

“I know, right! Our first little baby,” Izumi added.

You and Yui were a couple feet behind them trying to contain your laughter but you had to admit you were just as amazed as them.

“C’mon! Let’s get our own copies!” Yui announced, leading the way inside. The rest of you followed and each picked up a copy ready to purchase it. “Not gonna lie, it makes me feel real fuzzy seeing our name and faces on this.”

“No kidding. We really worked hard for this, didn’t we?” You asked aloud. “Our first of many. Let’s hope Courage My Love can keep up with it.”

Walking towards the counter to pay one after the other the cashier put together that you guys were the ones on the album cover. “Is this you guys?”

“Yep! That’s us,” Izumi smiled. “It’s our first album!”

“Oh my! Congratulations! I recognize this as one of the new ones we got in last nights shipment. I’ll play it throughout the store today to listen,” the cashier told you all.

“Thank you so much, we’d really appreciate that,” you all spoke before heading towards the exit.

Walking through a park on your way to the grocery store, Izumi had a burst of energy she couldn’t help but expel. “We should take a picture!”

“But we have-“ Yui started before she was shushed by the tallest one from the group.

“Shhh- excuse me, sir? Could you take a picture of my friends and I?” she asked sweetly. The older gentleman agreed before asking Izumi how to use her phone. Once she explained to him she told the group what pose they should do. “We should hold them up and just pose with them together!” Complying with her idea, your amateur photographer took a couple pictures before handing the device back to its owner. You all thanked him and looked at the pictures he took before posting it to each of your social medias.

So excited to announce that our album is finally out! You can pick it up anywhere that sells cds or check it out on any music streaming apps. Thank you so much for your support!

-y/n<3

“Yo, this music kinda slaps. What band is this?” Ranmaru asked Semi who currently had the aux cord.

“Courage My Love,” Semi responded which resulted in Subaru letting out a loud groan.

“The hell is your problem?” Ranmaru asked the drummer.

“That’s fucking Y/n’s band! No wonder he’s been listening to it on repeat for the past week!”

Ranmaru immediately stepped on the breaks before turning around in his seat to look at Semi. “Eita, I’m only gonna ask once, give me the aux.”

Giving a small glare to the spikey silver haired bassist, Semi spoke, “no.... I don’t wanna.”

“Eita!” Ranmaru roared before leaning his torso to grab the other’s phone.

Jiro sitting in the passengers seat with wide eyes opted to grab the other end of the aux cord and unplug it directly from the source, resulting in everyone else getting quiet at the lack of music. “No more tunes till we get to the venue.”

Even after taking away aux privileges from him, Semi was quick to find a solution and use his headphones instead. He continued listening to your band’s new album, blown away from how much you’ve changed. He regretted everything he did to you but was also inspired by the woman you’ve become.

—————

a/n: just when I think I’m done with angst I write more and I just say oops to that. Also do you guys like the addition of songs for the chapters? Also sorry for all the jumping around during this chapter

Taglist:

@pluviophilefangirl @yourstarvic @sunaswife @mynscorner @syaziahvg @discountkiyoko

#haikyu #haikyuu!!#semi eita #semi eita x reader #semi haikyuu #semi x reader #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader

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mxargo · 4 years ago

Text

some days

spencer reid

summary: spencer takes his time with a girl that he thinks may be it for him.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of past deaths, spence being in prison, age gap of ten years. honestly lmk if I forgot anything.

word count: 2475

most of this is from spencer's pov

○○○○

some days are better than others, some make it and some don't. that's just how life is now. people get hurt, good people.

bad things happen to good people. good people who decide to live their own lives fighting other peoples wars just so they don't get hurt.

they're total strangers so why do it? why do others let themselves feel great pain just to save someone they don't know?

if we started questioning the good and their good intentions, there wouldn't be any left. that's why we don't do it.

when new cases come around, we push the why in the back of our minds and focus on the how. how are we going to save these people in time? and what if we don't? how many bad endings can occur during these cases before we start questioning our own sanity?

that's where spencer was.

questioning his sanity.

after prison, everything was different. he wouldn't want to admit that because it was the truth. a truth he wasn't yet ready to face, especially not by himself.

he saw the world differently, things he used to be able to do before just faded away in a locked compartment he built for himself in the back of his mind.

the part of him he'd never want to open. why do we do this? what happens if someone takes away the important. the reason he'd believe kept him steady.

his mother.

she wasn't well. he knew that to be true, didn't mean he liked to admit that.

he would defend her world without a thought of his own, but that tasks he kept only for himself is what started to strip him of what he once was.

thirteen years ago, the once smaller man who was so innocent. the man who just joined the bau thinking that this, this is my way out.

his way out of his mothers world. he loved her no doubt, no one needed proof for that but he wanted his own.

that's what he that he was doing when he met maeve. only knowing her for his own redemption, his migraines.

he wanted her. he loved her but he couldn't admit it. he didn't want to. if he told her he loved her everything he once built for himself would be gone.

she was being hunted and he couldn't handle any more loss he was sure to happen, and when she did die, It was like a part of his soul broke apart and fell deep inside his locked box.

after gideon died, he thought he'd almost lost it. in a way, he was like a father to him after his own abandoned him.

in some ways more than most, some days are better than others, some make it and some don't.

after he got realised for prison early, he went straight back to work. that's just the kind of man spencer reid was. he wanted to continue to help others even though he clearly needed the same for himself.

so when emily decided to send him home, he was alone again, and he wasn't used to living in something bigger than a 6x6 cell.

but it didn't feel very much like a home anymore. he knows what it used to feel like, a warm place away from the harmful rays of the terrible people outside his green walls.

he couldn't stay here, at least not right now. so when he left his apartment walking around dc, he started to realize what he was losing. his sense of happiness, and he'd do anything to get it back.

maybe if he did his house would start to feel like a home again.

♡♡♡♡

sitting in a small cafe sipping on the same coffee he's had for the last hour he started resembling the coffee to himself, he loved coffee. it was one of his favorite things in the world, aside from books.

but as now, he couldn't finish it. on any other days he'd at least be on his fifth cup by now having read already a few of his books.

but he didn't have any with him now. just him and his now half empty cold cup of back coffee. since when did he stop putting sugar in his coffee? was it before or after prison? what changed?

when did the sweet and softness in his like go away?

it was all his could think about now, which was a good thing come in handy, since thinking about what was really bothering could have ended up with him causing a scene in the same cafe he's been going to for the last two years.

it was a bit far out from his apartment but there was a girl here. a girl he like to watch, not in the senseless creepy way but he liked to watch her.

he liked the way you laughed, the way you smiled as you passed along coffee to other people. he loved the way you'd hum soft melodies to yourself as youd clean coffee stains of the counters. he loved the way youd listen to him on his rambles and ask him questions as you made his coffee. and the first time he met you, he knew he couldn't walk away forever, but it was all by accident.

walking into a cafe, he was in a hurry. it wasn't the same one he'd been going to that was across the street from where he lived but it was close now to where he was and he needed energy.

as he waited in the small line inside the small building, he realized there was only one person working there.

a girl.

she smiled at the elderly woman who was complementing on the younger womans earrings.

"those are lovely, I would've loved to wear those and walk around like you when I was as young as you. so beautiful"

and after that she couldn't stop smiling, but by that time it was my turn and she was attempting to revive my attention after I'd zone out.

"oh I'm sorry"

"don't be, it's alright. what can I get for you?"

her voice was so sweet sounding, intoxicating, in the good way. she sounded almost angelic. the kind penelope liked to remind us are the best of this world, and now that I've heard it for myself, I couldn't wait to see her and thank her for it.

but as I waiting on the other side of the counter as she made my cup, I didn't like the silence. I wanted to hear her again and the only thing I could think of was the same thing I always do, rambling.

coffee facts, of course.

"did you know that coffee is originally from Yemen?"

she looked up a me and when her eyes met mind, my heart felt like it was going to crawl out of my chest and land in her hands.

"I didn't"

"yeah, coffee is consumed in such great quantities, it is the world's 2nd largest traded commodity, surpassed only by crude oil. It is our most beloved beverage after water. It's worth well over $100 billion worldwide"

"that's interesting, I don't know much about it I've only been working here for a couple months"

"why are you working here?"

"just extra cash, figured I could use it if I want to graduate college"

college. that word kind of hit me like a truck.

she must be what then, twenty-two? I felt almost weird trying to get her attention more.

"I just turned twenty-three a few weeks ago and having to work five years instead of four has been hard"

I didn't know what to say by then. ten years. ten. that's the distance between us and it felt dreadful.

he never did it. he never asked her out or poked around to see if she was every seeing someone.

he wasn't hers and a part of himself hated that. but what would his friends say if they knew he was with someone so much younger than him.

they wouldn't be very supportive. he didn't need that from his family, but this one girl. shes the only one that's been able to get under his skin since maeve. the only girl hes been able to admit that he had feelings for, and strong ones because if they weren't. he wouldn't be going out of his way to walk four blocks away from his apartment everyday to see this one girl. if his feelings weren't real he wouldn't spend his time sitting in the cafe from the time it opened till it closed on the days that he could.

he just liked seeing her. and they were friends, he didn't think they were. they didn't talk as much as he wished but when she told him that he was her best costumer he figured everyone else had heard the same. but when she told him that she'd probably quit if she didn't see him everyday, he couldn't believe that she had cared for him that much.

"refill?"

hm?

"what? oh hey y/n"

"hey"

she smiled at me and looked around the table sending me back a confused look.

"no books?"

"oh um no. I forgot to bring some"

"you forgot?, I thought your brain was all mighty, never forgetful. I remember when you told me that I also should tell you I remember all the little gifts youd leave me"

"wha-"

"what? you didn't think I'd know it was you? I've known since I found a copy of gaspty on my car. youre the only one I told I'd accidentally ruined my old one"

"yeah.."

"are you doing alright spence? you've been here only an hour and no books and only one cup of coffee which I'm sure is cold by now"

by now she sat across from me pleading those very same eyes I'd fallen for two years ago at me.

"just in a bit of a mess"

"I know that your job is super hectic but I haven't seen you in three months"

how could I tell her? would she look at me differently? would she leave me alone?

"just work stuff"

"oh. well whatever it is, I'm sorry and I'm here for you. you know that right?"

"of course"

she smiled at me grabbing the coffee pot and ruffling my hair as she walked away.

being in prison reminding me of how much I loved her. how much I'd miss the way she'd sit with me after hours reading books with me and listening to my ramblings. it took me a bit to admit that I love her, but when I did I'd made a promise to myself I wouldn't let her go, but I wouldn't let her get hurt either.

by the time the cafe started to empty and the clock hit 9pm I'd notice her walk up to me handing me a book.

"I figured you could use it."

"thanks"

when she sat by me she didn't too close, giving me space but not too far where I couldn't feel her next to me.

"what's going on with you spence? I'm really worried about you"

"it's just work"

"you serious?"

"yes"

"then why don't I believe you?"

"I just-

"you can trust me. I care about you spencer. you disappeared for months and I just- I was worried something bad happened to you. at one point I thought you mightve-

died? I couldn't do that to her.

"no. no, I'm okay. sorta I guess. about a week ago I was realised from prison, I was framed for uh- murder"

that was the first time she bad been made speechless. she didn't say anything. she didn't look angry, or upset. just sad.

"I'm really sorry. why didn't- god I should've-

"should've what? there wasn't anything you could've done"

"I could have been there for you. I just- I feel like I should've been there thats all. your not alone, are you?"

sitting back, resting my head against the back of the booth meeting her eyes, I realised if I'd told her how I felt, i couldn't have anything else to lose.

"I have you"

she looked in my eyes for what I'm guessing is the answer to her confusion.

"what?"

"I have you. you're here. you always have been, and I'm grateful for it. I really am. i- I didn't know how to tell you before but I care for you. in ways I probably shouldn't. I don't know of this would work or not but if there is even a 1% chance there would I'm willing to take it. I love you y/n, I always have. since I met you. y'know I didn't normally go to this cafe. I live four blocks away from here. I came here on convenience and after I met you i couldn't stay away."

"I'm glad you didn't"

grabbing her hand, she didn't pull away.

"me too"

she pulled herself closer to me letting her head rest on my chest.

"you're such a good person. I hope you believe that. some days are better than others, some make it and some don't. i really want you to make it, and if youd let me, I'd really like to be here and help you with it, because I love you too and I like seeing you happy. I'm sorry for what happened to you, I know it wasn't your fault. I hope you understand that."

"I do now, thank you hon"

I could feel her smile again the thickness of my coat, I guess she just had that ability. and when she leaned up to kiss my cheek, I had pulled away.

"oh, I'm sor-

and when I kissed her. I stopped feeling guilty about how other people might feel about us. I stopped worrying about the fact that maybe one day, this might all blow over, but if it did, at least I'd known I'd done something about my feelings instead of wallowing in regret of what could've been.

derek once said that penelope was his god given solace, and the only thing I ever wanted was to find mine.

to be honest I believe I did.

I have her now, and hopefully it doesn't ever end. another reason to keep me steady other than my mother, and being hopeful for the both of us in whatever this will be wouldn't hurt.

she makes me feel things, things I've never felt before. I used to hate it, I used to want to make her take it away but now, it's all I cant think about and I don't believe i could ever let it go.

spencer reid finally found the one piece of his soul and he let y/n gracefully put it back into place.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n

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mrpenguinpants · 4 years ago

Note

I am a firm believer that Childe is indeed younger than Keqing and has no form of respect for her regardless.

It’s moreso a form of me establishing that the Keqing is a short adult in her mid to early twenties who has to inevitably deal with the constant neck pain she gets from having to look up at her co-workers just to make eye contact. She curses either herself for it for never growing an inch or curses everyone around her or, well, both. Regardless, she can occassionally be found in her office stomping the floor and feeling like the battle is her against the world LMAO

As a side note, I loved the little headcanons of the boys as children you included! It was a different thing that would’ve never came to mind otherwise. While I’m totally ride or die on the “four men accidentally hire themselves a babysitter and a daily slander machine (she does it out of love)” train, I do appreciate different variations to the idea.

Oh and seeing myself on the anon list makes me feel a bit warm, it feels like I’m being acknowledged as family for crashing this wonderful blog with brainworms lmaooo— on a much serious note, I really appreciate hearing me out whenever I have an idea or two to share.

Sincerely, Keqing harem brainrot anon

(I felt like using a dash was too orthodox, and these are basically my mini love letters to you for being an overwhelming amount of seretonin, so I figured why not give it a little twist)

Minor Spoilers for Character Backgrounds

I wrote some more on this here: Genshin: Royalty AU HCs

---

FUCKING CATCH ME CRYING IN THE CLUB AS I HOLD THIS PRECIOUS ASK IN MY HANDS. I THOUGHT YOU DIED. I WAS SO UPSET. REMEMBER THAT ANON ASK THAT I JUST REPLIED TO WHERE ANON FELT LIKE THEY WERE COMING HOME? THAT. THAT IS HOW I FEEL RN.

Yes. I know anons have lives outside of tumblr. Am I a parent penguin now? Yes. Yes I am. I’m fucking crying, it does feel like I’m seeing my family again.

---

Out of all the “adult” genshin characters, I firmly believe Childe is the youngest. He is just hovering that adult status because of his height. Can I also say how much I love that the “culturally insensitive white boy” idea came from people on twitter getting tired of Chili fanart where Childe calls Zhongli “sensei” even tho the mans Chinese?

Speaking of short people, and because I will never shut up about this, XIAO IS 5′2. Ty for coming to my ted talk. I can literally astral project and visualize Zhongli being Keqing’s boss or co-worker that’s super respectful - but lowkey a bit slow because he keeps forgetting his wallet and Keqing is too nice to leave him without lunch - but when he’s spitting facts about the ancient art of ink blocks she’s cursing him in her mind. Why is this man so tall?? She can feel the neck muscles in her neck crying out in pain that when she finally relaxes and stares forward rather than upward, she get’s a killer cramp and ends up dying on the floor (I HATE THAT FEELING BTW). She’s out here googling ways to grow taller after puberty and chugs milk cartoons like it’s air.

This is why I absolutely love sharing ideas with others. There is so much food to be brought to the table so I always try and encourage others to share their ideas. Plus it let’s me get my over-active brainworms out haha.

I just love the dual personality of younger vs older genshin characters. We got to see a little bit of young Diluc in the manga (pls..I know it’s completed but crumbs. I beg of you) where he was this starry eyed and friendly knight attitude. Actual sweetheart. Your typical childhood boy next door type of vibe that was sweet and polite but was a lot smarter than he looked. He has a pet turtle (or tortoise?) and I find that so cute. I can totally see Diluc being hard working to make his father proud but also slacks hard and watches his turtle awkwardly eat a strawberry most of the time haha. He would both die for his turtle and go to war for it. Honestly, I just love the idea of child Diluc being a bit of a slacker compared to his older self, who is trying to speed run his life.

As for Kaeya, I’m going to say this now. I fully believe in the art of shy and quiet Kaeya when he was a child. It makes sense in terms of the lore since he was basically shoved into an unknown world and all alone. Poor guy probably has a lot of insecurities and is super standoffish to happy and loud children his age. He might come off as rude but he just doesn’t know how to socially interact. As sad as this may sound, he probably mimics other children as his way of expressing emotions. Since he spent most of his time with Diluc, he probably tried to mimic Diluc’s mannerism to try and fit in but Diluc is smart and caught on. It was actually a really wholesome connection of Diluc trying to help Kaeya express himself rather than copying others. Until well, the incident that separated them.

Complete side note since I know we’re talking about a modern au but: I know I’m stretching this super thin and this doesn’t hold up in the lore at all but I really like the idea that Kaeya is secretly the Prince of Khaenri’ah and Khaenri’ah is a code word for the Abyss. This is basically me saying I want the Abyss mages and Kaeya to actually get along but due to moving in with Diluc’s family and the world’s view on monsters. He has to talk and play with them in secret. I think it’s kinda cute haha.

As for Childe, actual angel. Have you seen Teucer? Who is this pure innocent soul and what the FUCK happened to create this Grade A Brat? He got too many vitamin gummies and became a gorilla. I mean, both younger and older Childe would walk an old lady across the street but only older Childe would then try to 1v1 the old lady. I’m actually crippled by the idea that Childe used to be this scrawny kid that decided to bulk up due to deep insecure attitudes towards himself or protection ideas for his younger siblings. Fighting became a need to survive and he hated it at first until he met his Master and found the fun in it because it was his way of having control of a situation. Though of course, while this man has two braincells, he’s still sensible. Childe may be a clown but he’s a good big brother.

Then there’s Zhongli. In my mind, he was basically like Kaeya. Probably came from royalty as well. He didn’t know how to express himself except his boy was actually hollow. A complete husk of a person that was just doing what he was told to absolute perfection. That was until Guizhong, who I completely headcanon as someone older than Zhongli and acts as a sister figure (fucking fight me), grew concerned for this poor child and tried her best to teach him how to have fun. That there was life outside his studies and duties. While it didn’t work out perfectly and Zhongli is still a bit slow on the uptake, he genuinely is thankful to her and her help. I can see him have a little notebook of all her advice and teachings - heck, drawings of human emotions - that he sometimes has to turn to because he’s lost. (why..do i keep making Zhongli’s part so sad).

BUT ASIDE FROM MY BRAINWORMS. “Four men accidently hire themselves a babysister and a daily slander machine” IS SUCH A CONCEPT. I want them all to have the worst habits. Childe LICKS the yogurt peel in front of Keqing slowly because he knows it absolutely disgusts her, Zhongli eat’s his sandwiches vertically, Diluc blends coffee with 5 hours energy and doesn’t tell anyone (so everyone has the worst hangover 3 hours later because they all leech off each other), and Kaeya, for the love of god, cover your tit window. It’s too early to get arrested for public indecency.

---

I’m happy my anon list made you feel fuzzy 💕💕. I’m probably missing a lot of anons on that list because I have the memory of a goldfish so I just listed the ones I could remember. Since you know, you’re some of the few that came back to talk to me which I honestly really appreciate. I know you all have lives outside of this small blog so it does make me really happy seeing you all come back. I’ve mentioned it before but don’t be afraid to chat with me about anything, doesn’t even have to be genshin^^ but I absolutely love the stuff you come up with.

I never thought of an anon list acting like a family acknowledgement (more as a literal list) but I’m fully on board with that. I went back to my older anon asks to see if I missed anyone (and I probably have since the tumblr search tag is garbage) but I hope they are all still around on this blog and wanna drop by to say hi^^

I’m going to go change my anon list to pengu family because holy fuck that’s cute. But with that said,

Welcome back home keqing harem brainrot anon!

#keqing harem brainrot anon #welcome home #the double take i took when i saw that signature #i still love that name #"-these are basically my mini love letters to you for being an overwhelming amount of seretonin -#y-you can't just attack me like this #um wow okay #um let me just bask in what happiness feels like for a hot minute #oh no im gonna cry #...yo no I FEEL SO EMOTIONALLY VUNLERABLE RIGHT NOW WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME #this was...really sweet #my serotonin levels have completely peaked for the next year #super duper big mwah #lovely anon #anon ask #i have noodles #im going to go cry in them for a hot second

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fanfic-me-up · 4 years ago

Text

Caught In The Crossfire || Todoroki Shouto

Synopsis: You’re caught in the crossfire of one of Todoroki Shouto’s pranks against Endeavor. It’s either play along or risk getting expelled. What’s it gonna be?

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x fem!reader

Word Count: 4k+

Rating: 17+

Warnings: suggestive humor, suggestive sexual themes (nothing explicit), characters aged up to last year of school (18+)

A/N: This is for @bnhabookclub bingo event! Bingo slot: faking an injury

Big thank you to @unbreakableeiji and @prismaroyal for beta reading! They really helped me stay on track with this one lol

You’re always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like that one guy in the movie Holes that gets sent to juvie for shoes he didn’t even steal. You’re on your last strike, and though the consequences are not as bad as juvie, getting kicked out of the internship course three days before grades go out is just downright cruel.

You’ve been on edge this whole week, going to class everyday, dedicating at least three hours everyday to studying, and making sure to do everything expected of you at your internship.

Only one more day until finals are over which means one more day until the semester is over and you can get your internship credit.

And, trust, you are not blaming the universe for putting you in this position for no reason. It really wasn’t your fault. The first strike had been because of that one guy with the electric quirk you now know as Kaminari. The second strike had been because of Count Explodo and his inability to keep his cool for more than three seconds. Ugh. The students in the hero course can be so dramatic sometimes.

Recovery Girl didn’t want to give you the previous two strikes, in fact, she told you in confidence that you were her best intern, but she had to abide by school policy.

You don’t want to get into exactly what happened, but things were fried and exploded, and let’s just say school property was damaged. And because you were on watch as the intern, you of course, faced the consequences while they got off scot-free because they were “heroes.”

They’re not even real heroes dammit! They’re heroes in training! Of course that last part is always an afterthought, and people like you in the general course get pushed to the back and forced to clean up the messes of the up and coming “heroes.”

You carefully organize all the documents that Recovery Girl, your supervisor, needs copied, but you barely make it out the door when you bump into a firm chest- your nose colliding with a very hard, very sculpted shoulder.

“Ouch!”

The force alone brings you to the ground; the papers you took twenty minutes organizing, raining down on you. You bring your hand up to your nose to check for blood, but thankfully, there’s none.

“Are you okay?”

You look up at the two-toned boy in front of you who bends down to help you. Your eyes are having trouble deciding where to look. The stark contrast of glacial white and blazing red, and of stormy gray and vibrant turquoise is a lot, but somehow works together in his case.

You shake your head, gathering your papers quickly so you can get the copies back to Recovery Girl. Of course you’d bump into someone in the hero course. Typical.

“Let me help you,” he says.

Hands, much bigger than yours, join in the fray of picking up papers.

You scoff, “Haven’t you helped enough?”

He freezes, clearly taken aback by your abrasive attitude. You rolls your eyes, collecting the rest of your papers. Because of him, you have to reorganize the papers, and great, there’s a scuff mark on one of them.

“I didn’t mean to cause any-”

Half-n-Half doesn’t get the rest out when a deep rumble fills the empty hallway. (Count Explodo came up with that nickname and you can’t help but applaud him for it.)

“SHOUTOOOOO”

Todoroki’s eyes widen, and you see him glance at the door behind you. You scramble to get up and block the door. “Oh no, you don’t, I don’t know what you’ve heard from your little hero group, but you are not getting through this door and dragging me into whatever shenanigans you’ve gotten yourself into this time.” You plaster your body to the door, even though in reality, Todoroki can get in one way or another if he truly wants to.

He looks to the right where the voice came from. The only sign of stress on his otherwise stoic face is the slight arch of his brow, even when the same booming voice shouts his name again. In fact, Todoroki looks like he thrives on the chaos he’s caused for the man who’s scouring the halls in search of him.

Todoroki takes a step toward you with a hint of a smirk twitching at the corner of his lips. You squint up at him, having no idea what he’s up to, but you already know it’s going to put a damper on what was supposed to be an easy day.

In a flash, he throws himself to the ground like a freaking drama queen, lying on his back with all of his limbs spread out. “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”

You gape.

Did this boy really just life alert you?

He looks up at you and you want, more than anything, to make a serious dent in that stupidly handsome face. Ugh.

“You either help me hide from my old man or Recovery Girl finds you turned away a hurt student. Your choice,” He raises his eyebrow in a challenge, knowing full well that as an intern for Recovery Girl, you’re obligated to report any injuries students claim. You’re pretty much on probation so it will be your word against one of the top students in the hero course.

The next “SHOUTOOO” is a lot closer this time, meaning you have a couple seconds before Endeavor rounds the corner to find you rejecting his “perfect son” who looks to be in serious pain on the ground. Forget worrying about a measly strike, you’d probably get expelled from this school right on the spot.

You groan in defeat, stepping away to open the door, “I hate you. Now, get in.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” he brushes past your shoulder. Wow. He’s seriously the worst.

You close the door and both of you freeze at the heavy footsteps getting closer. You both breathe a sigh of relief when they carry on down the hallway. Todoroki leans against the counter, hands in the pockets of his pants.

“I’ll be right back. I have to make these copies that are now five minutes late, I wonder why that is...” you sarcastically trail off. All you get is a noncommittal shrug, so you continue with your spiel. “Lie down over there and please, for the love of god, if anyone comes in- and I mean anyone, it could be the freaking League of Villains for all I care, you better act like you’re actually injured. I can’t have another strike on my record.”

“Strike?”

You stutter, “N-nevermind. It’s none of your business. Just act like you’re hurt and we won’t have a problem. Or is that too much to ask of a future pro-hero?” You ask in an overly snotty fashion to take attention away from your slip-up. It obviously doesn’t work on someone as intelligent as Todoroki Shouto, but you appreciate how he nods and allows the subject change.

“Good. I’ll be back in a few,” you head for the door, but turn around for a final warning, “And don’t touch anything or use your quirk.”

“Really?” He crosses his arms, offended that you’re talking down to him like a child.

“You’d be surprised,” you shake your head, thinking back to how you got the previous strikes.

You open the door and jump three feet in the air, papers flying to the ground once more (who knows if you’ll ever get those copies to Recovery Girl at this point.) In front of you stands the No. 1 Hero, and he does not look happy.

You gulp, papers long forgotten. “Endeavor! Wh-what can I h-help you with… sir?” You make sure to keep the door only halfway open so he doesn’t see Todoroki hiding in the corner.

“I’m looking for my son, Shouto, is he in here?” He tries to step inside, but you close the door further.

“Nope. Not in here, sir, have you tried the admin office yet? He might be in there.”

You can’t help the slight wobble in your voice and you only pray he won’t catch it, but he’s a hero, trained to read his opponent, so what do you expect? His eyes narrow, and you shrink under his intimidating stare, hand sweating against the doorknob.

You really just lied to the No. 1 Hero, and he knows you’re lying.

“I’ve checked the administrative office, young lady, four times. Now, if you don’t let me in to see my son, I will talk to your superior and have you expelled from this school for insubordination.”

You chance a glance at Todoroki and you understand what he’s trying to say from a simple nod.

“Go ahead and tell him. I shouldn’t have put you in this position.”

You make eye contact with Endeavor who’s flame grows every time his nostrils flare. He takes a deep breath in and you know he’s about to shout Todoroki’s first name which will inevitably alert Recovery Girl. Forget worrying about your internship credit now, you might get expelled at this rate. You’re in too deep, and you pray you’ll make it out still a student of U.A. after this. You say the first thing that comes to mind.

“He’s NAKED!”

Endeavor’s shout gets stuck in his throat and you take the opportunity to keep going.

“Yeah! Totally, just full on... naked… like you can see… e-v-ery-thing.” You wave your hands around your body to drive your point across though your poor gestures only make the situation worse.

Complete silence takes over, to the point that you can hear Recovery Girl’s typing through the closed door. You side-eye Todoroki who looks at you with a half-smirk, his eyes bright and clearly enjoying this trainwreck of a show from the sidelines. Yep, out of all the lies you’ve told from the previous strikes you’ve earned, this one has got to be the worst by far.

Endeavor growls, “What kinda recovery room are you runnin’? I want to speak to your superior right now.”

Any louder and Recovery Girl will for sure come out to check what’s going on. If she comes out, she will see Todoroki and the jig is up. Your heart skips a beat at the thought.

“Uhh…”

Since when did it get so hot in here? Oh yeah. Duh. You’re literally a foot away from a guy engulfed in his own flames. You sigh and reluctantly open the door to let Endeavor in, and just when you’re about to call Recovery Girl-

“Dad?”

A hoarse voice speaks up.

“Shouto?”

“Don’t come any closer,” Todoroki croaks.

Endeavor actually listens.

“I’m…”

Your heart pounds in anticipation for what Todoroki will say next. You hope it’s enough for Endeavor to take his leave. Your head unintentionally moves to catch his whisper and Endeavor does the same.

“I’m…”

It’s like when someone’s on their deathbed and you’re struggling to catch their final words.

“Butt naked.”

You shoot Todoroki a quick glare as he’s struggling not to laugh. These are not the words of a dying man, but an asshole getting a kick out of screwing with his father.

“Son, put some pants on, it’s not that hard.” You cringe at the awkward eye contact you exchange with the No. 1 Hero.

“It is.”

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Is he going where you think he’s going?

You give a curt smile in which Endeavor grants you one of his own before straightening his belt and clearing his throat to respond.

“I will not stand for another one of your pranks, Shouto, come out now or else-”

“The body’s a mysterious thing.”

Oh my god. Why are you talking? Shut up!

“It can surprise you in ways you don’t… expect.” You’re not really sure where you’re going with this, but you have already disrespected the No. 1 Hero more times than you can count today so might as well just roll with it. Both Todorokis are looking at you expectantly from their respective places.

“Today, during training, he overused his left side causing his body to.. uhm… overheat. I guess you can say.” You glance at Todoroki who’s looking at you with wide eyes, but you keep pushing through, digging yourself in deeper. You need Endeavor to buy it, else you’re out of an internship or, worse, out of this school for good.

“Quirk side-effects manifest in different ways so it isn’t rare for you to hear about this for the first time, especially since your son isn’t fully acquainted with the left half of his quirk just yet.”

You give yourself a pat on the back because, damn, that was good if you do say so yourself. Endeavor seems to have bought it, too, because a proud smirk graces his usually harsh features. However, the happy go lucky wave you’re currently riding crashes from under you as Todoroki is shooting you the same piercing stare his father was giving you just a moment ago. Damn. The Todoroki’s really know how to make a person feel insignificant with just one look.

“Is that true, son?”

“...yes”

Endeavor gives a hearty laugh, and you’re so worked up with everything that’s happened in the past five minutes that you can’t help but laugh awkwardly alongside him.

“You could’ve started with that, young lady, no shame in the bodily functions of a strong, growing man. Those are the famous Todoroki genes at work,” he winks at you.

You force a smile, “Ha ha ha yep…”

What do you even say to that?

“I’ll come back for you once you’ve handled your problem. Take care, son.”

Endeavor gives you a polite nod, in which you bow, before he takes his leave. Once the door shuts, you slump against it and take in a few deep breaths to try to stop your racing heart.

You make eye contact with Todoroki from the corner he’s still hiding in, a shadow falling over the right half of his face. All you can see is a fierce combination of red and turquoise. He looks like a carbon copy of the man that was just here. Todoroki steps out of the shadow, and gets close enough for you to see every hurdling ridge of that perfectly imperfect scar.

“You shouldn’t have said that.”

The heat Endeavor took with him is replaced with a new heat. A different heat. One unique to the boy standing in front of you. You feel it bubbling, rising to the surface of a wicked cauldron that you need to quickly put a lid on before it spills over and you get burned. You fall short of spitting a sarcastic retort. Instead, you find yourself licking your lips and Todoroki tracing the movement with fire in his eyes.

“You know,” he starts, “My mind didn’t go there until yours did.”

“It didn’t?”

Your cheeks burn, embarrassed that your mind was in the gutter when Todoroki’s wasn’t.

He shakes his head.

“But good to know you think about me overheating.”

Oh no. Maybe you are in too deep. But not in the way you thought. You’re about to screw it and jump his bones right then and there when Recovery Girl’s door opens.

“Y/N, dear, did you make those copies?” Recovery Girl calls out, stopping in her tracks when she sees Todoroki next to you. “What brings you here, Todoroki, are you hurt?”

She races as quickly as her age can take her, going into full healer mode as she inspects Todoroki for injuries. You respond on instinct so you won’t get in trouble.

“Yes! He is very hurt! That’s why he’s here!”

You nod at Todoroki who takes the cue and immediately clutches his side, giving a convincing groan like he’s in pain. You gotta hand it to him. If he weren’t trying for a career as a pro-hero, you’d suggest he take up acting.

“His body overheated during training, and some not so pleasant side-effects have taken place.”

“So… hot…” He plays along, a mischievous glint in his eyes directed towards you. He makes sure to raise his temperature when Recovery Girl places her hand on his forehead.

“You’re definitely heating up, but that’s not out of the norm for someone with a quirk like yours. What side effects are you referring to, Y/N?”

You and Todoroki look at each other. You flush as you’re forced to give the same reason you gave Endeavor for continuity’s sake, but this time in explicit detail.

Once Recovery Girl is in the loop, she sends Todoroki to lie down and assigns you to take care of him. You get washcloths and soak them in water like you’re cooling a fever down. Todoroki is not “butt naked,” though he is shirtless. You place the cold compress on his bare chest. Hopefully he doesn’t notice how you squirm in your seat, working the cloth over his skin. His abs glisten as he continues to raise his temperature to keep up the appearance. Your eyes are trained on the task at hand, not daring to look up because you know he’s watching your every move. You can feel his gaze burning into you, branding your flesh with a mark of his own, as heat begins to simmer inside you.

You shake your head. What are you thinking? You’re not… he’s not… there’s nothing going on between you and Todoroki! You refuse to become another one of his fangirls, lining up for the chance to be with him. He’s handsome, sure you’ll give him that, but…you look up and instead of the smug smirk you imagined, there’s a softness to his usually stoic stare, and the heat you once felt melts into a fondness you can’t quite explain.

Once you finish “cooling him off,” you grab a clipboard and a pen to fill out the forms when you accept patients.

You stare at each other blankly. Clearing your throat you say, “I think it’s safe to say it’ll be a no for all of them.” He nods, putting his shirt back on as you get up from your seat, about to take your leave.

“Thank you.”

You freeze. From his words, not his quirk. (thank god)

“It was wrong of me to put you in such a precarious position. I understand your hostility… towards me. Though maybe if you’d allow me to explain myself, I might be able to change your mind.”

You raise an eyebrow. Since when did anyone in the hero course ever care about students in the general course? They’re always in their own little bubble, uncaring if they step on the toes of other students, like yourself, who worked just as hard to get into U.A. So why does Todoroki Shouto, one of the top students in the hero course, care about changing your mind?

You’re weary, but you nod anyway, curious as to what he has to say.

“My old man is a fucking dick.”

Your eyes widen.

Isn’t bad mouthing your dad, the current No. 1 Hero, bad publicity or something? Why would Todoroki tell you, of all people? You don’t have any more time to think on this as Todoroki continues.

“This morning, he told me we’re taking a trip next weekend to meet the person he plans to set me up with, some American girl. He said it’s good publicity for the family. I’m not stupid. I know when he says, the family, he means himself.” His face twists into a dark grimace and you can tell there’s some deep unresolved issues between him and his father.

“Why are you telling me this?”

You feel like you overstepped, heard too much about the famous Todoroki family, despite Todoroki, himself, telling you this.

He stands up from his bed, walking towards you until the tips of his shoes meet yours, and he’s as close as he can get without touching you. He raises his arm to lightly graze his fingertips along your arm, and you curse the goosebumps that immediately rise like a chain reaction. He drags his hand up, reaching the sensitive spot at the curve of your neck, and you let out a soft gasp at the sensation. A shiver runs through you from the cool touch, despite the heat coiling in your stomach, begging to be satiated. A softness pillows his piercing features as he brushes his thumb lightly along the apple of your cheek.

“I want to convince you I’m not the jerk you think I am.”

The scent of freshly cut mint and burning cedar is clouding your ability to think straight. His hair looks deliciously soft, begging to have fingers run through it, and you wish to pull him down and kiss him in the middle of the recovery room. For him to slam you against the wall, and...

You take a step back, pulling away from his caress, before you do something you’ll regret. You have questions that need answers before anything else happens.

“Why are you so hellbent on changing my mind? I’m clearly not in the hero course.”

“Why would that matter?”

“Because you’re all the same! You’re caught up in your own little world, the spotlight shining on you so bright that you’re blinded to the people around you. If it wasn’t for the students in the general and support courses, you wouldn’t be in the position you are now.”

You hope you didn’t raise your voice loud enough for Recovery Girl to notice. It was already a close call getting this far and you really can’t afford a slip up because you couldn’t put a lid on your emotions.

You’d have no one to blame, but yourself.

“This is about your strike,” Todoroki states.

The breath rushes out of you.

“What? No, it-”

You stop mid-sentence. A realization comes to mind causing you to straighten up and look Todoroki in the eye. “You know what? Yes, yes it is about my strike. Two strikes actually.”

Your newfound confidence marches you straight over to Todoroki, poking at his chest in an attempt to intimidate him. (yeah, you’re about as intimidating as a baby squirrel to Todoroki, but A for effort)

“And who’s fault was it?” your voice rises, “Dunceface and Count Explodo, that’s who! And if your little prank went sour today, it would’ve been my ass on the line!”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Your breath catches. He’s just throwing you curveballs left and right, leaving an unsettling feeling in your stomach, because he keeps acting like he actually cares and you’re questioning if maybe he actually does.

“Let me make it up to you,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow, “And how are you going to do that?”

A faint flush adorns his pale cheeks, only noticeable because you’re standing so close. This is the first time you’ve seen Todoroki blush and you’re taken aback at his sudden change in demeanor.

“I was thinking… we could go to the restaurant you mentioned? Uhm…” he runs a nervous hand through his hair, “In your slam poem last year? You said you always passed by and hope to one day dip a strawberry in the chocolate fountain.”

You’re speechless at the fact that he saw your performance, much less remembered the details. You performed at an open mic event U.A. held at the end of every semester for extra credit. You did a slam poem about childhood hopes and dreams (it was pretty cringe and now that you know Todoroki saw it just makes you cringe even more) but despite the cringiness, all of the details were true. Bella Bistro was a cafe you passed by everyday in elementary school and you remember jumping up and down in excitement when you saw the huge chocolate fountain whooshing gloriously in the middle of the restaurant.

You look down at the ground to hide your burning cheeks.

“It’s expensive, you don’t… have to,” you mutter.

“I want to.”

Your heart stutters at the earnest look he gives you. A ray of hope sparkling his eyes, so unlike the brooding aura he usually carries.

But you’re still not convinced.

“You’re not asking me out to piss off your dad, are you?”

“You’re just looking for every reason to hate me, aren’t you? Trust me, there are plenty of other ways to piss him off.” His face is stoic, but behind that you can see the mischief brewing, only visible to the people who take the time to read his minute expressions.

Ten minutes ago, you thought the entire hero course was a bunch of narcissistic assholes, but now that you’ve taken the time to get to know one of them, you’re starting to realize that maybe you were wrong.

Anyone with eyes can see Todoroki Shouto is devastatingly good looking, not to mention, he’s willing to take you to one of the most expensive restaurants in the city? The worst that can happen is it doesn’t work out.

Though you’re secretly hoping it does.

Before you can give your answer, Recovery Girl calls out from her office.

“Are you feeling better, dear?”

Your eyes widen as you push Todoroki back into the recovery room.

“Quick! Take off your shirt and get on the bed!”

Todoroki raises an eyebrow, “Let me buy you dinner first.”

You don’t have time to be embarrassed. “Just do it!”

Thankfully he obliges, getting on the bed just in time for Recovery Girl to pop in and see you wiping down his chest.

“Much better, thank you,” Todoroki responds to her. She inspects his “injuries” and once she deems him ready to go back to class, she takes her leave to go make the copies herself. You let her know that you’re more than capable of doing it yourself, but she gives you a knowing look.

“Oh, I know hun, but seems like you have unfinished business to take care of,” she winks and walks off.

You gape, your whole body buzzing as you realize she heard your entire conversation and probably gathered that Todoroki isn’t really injured.

She exits and the silence is deafening in the recovery room. Technically, it should be silent, but for some reason you can’t help but feel out of your own element when you’re met with the intense stare of Todoroki. You can’t even use the excuse of trying to let other people sleep because there’s no one else in here. You glance around the room, playing with the stethoscope around your neck, but each time you chance a look at Todoroki, you’re hit with that same burning look.

“Welp… the jig is up, I guess. You’re free to go, goodbye,” you shoot an awkward laugh, but Todoroki doesn’t indulge you.

“Your answer?”

You’re well aware of the fact that he’s still shirtless and it’s doing little in suppressing the uncontrollable urge to kiss him senseless.

Fuck it.

You reach for his hair (yes it is as soft as it looks) and you pull him down as you finally allow yourself to give in and kiss him. His breath hitches in surprise, but he soon relaxes into the kiss. His arms lay awkwardly at his side, like he’s unsure where to put them, so you guide them to your waist. With his bare chest pressed against you, you can feel every hardened ridge rubbing against the thin fabric of your shirt, and you do a horrible job of suppressing a whimper when his tongue flicks hesitantly against yours. You pull away, so you both can catch your breath, keeping your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Is that a good enough answer, Half-n-Half?” You say with a teasing lilt in your breathless voice.

“Call me Shouto.”

You shiver at the cool lips ghosting the burning shell of your ear.

He leans away, much too soon for your liking. Throwing his shirt back on, he walks out the door, but not before turning his head to throw one last comment over his shoulder.

“I’ll pick you up at 8 o’clock sharp.”

Sharp? Who the hell does he think he is? Psh. You’ll be ready when you wanna be ready! But you can’t even convince yourself to be mad when you realized you just scored a date with U.A’s most handsome up and coming hero.

You smile at the sudden turn of events today. Sure, it could’ve gone way worse if Shouto’s prank backfired, but it was totally worth getting caught in the crossfire.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha todoroki #mha #mha x reader #todoroki fluff #todoroki imagine #caught in the crossfire #fanfic-me-up #my writing

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