#this short image has been eating away at me for the past few days

[downinsomanyfandoms]

this random bullshit has been eaten away at me

The mental image of Masamune suddenly waking up in the death of the night wanting to pee but immediately lying back down pretending to sleep because he spotted Tsubasa was sitting up on his bed glaring at nothingness, eyes gleaming red and all, and it terrified him because what the fuck his teammate looks like he wants to kill someone. Can Tsubasa actually do that? Masamune didn’t friggin know, he didn’t want to find out. But he did know is that featherhead was suddenly steeping toward him, all without making a single sounds and oh hell no did Masamune accidentally saw something he shouldn’t see? Did he just had the misfortune of knowing something shouldn’t know about this gloomy guy? Was he about to die?

Nope, Tsubasa just tugged Masamune’s blanket back up before went into the bathroom. Masamune was now freezing in bed and his heart leaped into his throat, because what the fuck. At least he isn’t dead. Masamune looked over the the bed opposing him. Gingka gave him a small thumb up, because apparently if Tsubasa cares enough to cover you in blanket that means he tolerate you enough. What the fuck.

That night Masamune found out his oldest teammate is not normal.

Later, it apparently was just dark power being freaky (and if it stem from Tsubasa’s instinct as an agent then nobody needs to know)

[clare-875]

Bare Skin (Zoro x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Roronora Zoro x Reader Summary: As crew members get tired of Zoro's disregard for hygiene, they call on the one person who can get him to bathe: you. Warnings: fluff, soft Zoro, nudity, suggestive towards the end Notes: The above image does NOT belong to me, Female Reader, Short Fic :) [One Piece Masterlist] _____

The sun was high in the sky and you were busy in your room, doing the things you barely had time to do these past few weeks, but someone was discontent and so they had interrupted your alone time. "Come on, [y/n], you know it's getting bad." You turn to Nami who has a frown on her face, irritation lacing with despair in her eyes. You laugh softly at her distress. She had been in your room for a while now, exclaiming about how your boyfriend is refusing to bathe, but you turn away in dismissal. "It's not that bad." Nami is quick to shake her head. "Love has clearly made you blind [y/n]. Please, I'm begging you. It's been days." You let her try to convince you a bit more and you feel yourself relenting. Maybe she was right. Your boyfriend works out for most of the day and sleeps every other hour. You hadn't minded too much knowing how much he hates to bathe, but you could understand why Nami might be desperate for your help. "Fine, okay, I'll go." You smile as she hugs you out of thanks and you let her lead you out of your room.

As soon as you make it to the deck, Nami makes a beeline for your boyfriend who sleeps among the rowdy crew. "Oi, Zoro!" She doesn't hesitate as she thwacks him on the head, causing him to groan as he wakes, looking at the Navigator like she is mad. "Have you lost your mind?!" He grunts as he grasps his head now harbouring a lump thanks to Nami, but she doesn't stop. "It's time..." She puts on a scary expression that has Zoro confused and slightly disturbed. "[y/n]!" She calls for you to approach and you do, meeting your boyfriend's questioning gaze. As you get closer, you see what Nami means when she says he needs a bath, his musk filling your senses as you get close; his scent amplified by his disregard. You scrunch up your nose but laugh. "Come on, Zoro, let's go bathe." He stares at you once and blinks, registering your words before turning to Nami in irritation who has a shit-eating grin on her face. Zoro groans before turning to you, but you see his eyes soften slightly and he takes your hand in his.

He can’t say no to you.

By the time he stands, the crew has all looked on silently at the sudden commotion surrounding the three of you, and now they gape in wonderment as you drag the swordsman away from the deck. Luffy, Ussop and Chopper are in shock at how your mere word can get him to break, whilst Sanji starts crying to the heavens. "Stupid Marimo, why does he get to bathe with [y/n]-san! It's not fair!" You let an amused smile reach your face as you hear the faint voices of the stunned crew. You feel Zoro's arms start to wrap themselves around your waist encasing you as you trudge along. You look upward in his arms, adoring the softer side of him that breaks free when in his still-sleepy state. He looks down at you, stifling a yawn, and quirking his eyebrows upwards in question but you have reached the bathroom before you can say anything.

Instantly your hands move to his pants as he is already shirtless and you tug them gently prompting him to take them off. You do the same, pulling your shirt over your head and removing the rest of your clothes. Throughout, Zoro looks to your figure appreciatively, adoring every curve and edge, every length of your bare skin. When you are finally free of your clothes, Zoro encases you again in his arms, and there is the mere intimacy of holding your lover for a moment. When you move to the shower, Zoro walks behind you, pushing his nose into the crook of your neck and making you sigh contentedly. "Zoro," you murmur, causing him to look up and grunt in question. You laugh softly at his minimal response but guide his arms away from you and turn the shower on. "Sit down," your soft words reach his ears as he takes his place on the seat placed conveniently near the shower. You start to rub the shampoo in your hands before entangling them with his hair, massaging the soapy mixture into his scalp. Zoro hums in deep contentment, causing your lips to upturn again.

The next few moments are shrouded in the familiarity of washing his hair, and your hands that travel around him in gentle movements. Zoro adored the feeling you ignited in him as he felt your touch, treating him so carefully despite his strong build and rough demeanour. Once you are done washing him, he returns the favour, switching positions as he places products in his hands. He watches your contentment carefully as he massages your scalp, and moves to your skin soon after. He feels the smoothness of your form, and he treats you like porcelain as you treasure the feeling of his strong hands travelling around you. When he is done, you stand as he guides you to the bath, the both of you easing into the warm water and sighing as you feel it take away the strain of your muscles. Zoro moves closer to you, and despite the warmth of the bath, his skin ignites heat on your body. You look up, only to see his eyes are already on you.

Your gaze can't help but travel his form then; well-built muscles gleaming under the sheen of the water, the scent of soap latched onto his skin. When you gaze upward towards his face again you see the wide smirk at your travelling eyes, but it doesn't hide the fact that he admires you too. "Z-Zoro," your voice cuts off as he suddenly pulls you into his lap and you feel him nosing your skin again as he murmurs your name. He places soft kisses that travel amongst your skin and your collarbone and you can't help but let out a sigh that has him smiling against you. His hands travel further along your skin, tracing curves and gently squeezing your soft flesh. You gasp as you feel him against you, turning to him as he still bears that wide smirk on his face. "Zoro, not now." You say, despite your smile making its way into your words or not stopping the hands that travel amongst you. "But now is the best time to do it, sweetheart." His voice is a deep rumble and his hands don't give way. You feel yourself relent as you turn in his hold and press your lips against him, in a hot and heated kiss.

Zoro found himself not minding a more frequent bath, along as it was with you.

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Update :)

It's funny how it's been such a long time since I've posted here, yet it still feels like home—hello, loves~!

It goes without saying that I owe an explanation as to why I disappeared from the face of the Earth for so long.

The last time I was able to truly connect with you was when my family and I caught Covid (great times, let me tell you) - after that, I totally disappeared, and as much as I would love to say it was for good and positive reasons, to be very blunt and straight to the point, it wasn't.

For those sensitive to the topics of illness and mental health, skip to the image of a giant cat for the good news!

Once again, as everyone knows, my whole family got COVID-19. While my Mom, Dad, and I weren't too hot, we were functioning. But my husband was really struggling. And when weeks passed, and his health started to get worse and worse, we realized that this was something more than just COVID-19.

My husband is hesitant to provide full details about what occurred, primarily because it's still a recent event and something he's currently grappling with. Still, my husband went from being a healthy, physically active person to being bedridden.

It was a really hard time for everyone because my husband is like the sun. All smiles and outgoing - to suddenly unable to eat or hold down food, needing help with showering and to be very blunt, depressed and suicidal because he lost everything due to this sickness.

Unfortunately, cancer runs in his family, and while he got tested multiple times and came back negative (yay!), he is still not out of the dark. He has done numerous surgeries in hopes of getting better (his most recent this January), and at this time, his last resort is getting a colostomy bag. He is currently undergoing some experimental treatments because doctors don't want to do the surgery based on his age.

It goes without saying why I haven't been posting and updating anything. There's been a lot going on, and I want to be on his side as much as possible.

But there is some good news!

I am mainly posting this message because he has improved greatly these past few weeks and is now in a much better physical and mental state. Seeing him get his feet back on the ground has given me the confidence to resume writing.

I have never stopped writing, but I have stopped publicly posting my writing mainly because I didn't have the time to sit down and properly edit.

My friends behind the scenes have been real stars. They have kept me going and encouraged me to keep writing.

I aim to post small works and drabbles until I feel confident enough to finish my biggest baby, Limerence.

To all those messages saying you missed Yue and Zuko, they're back - sorry, not sorry.

Thank you to everyone who has written messages to me. Trust me when I say I read them all, and I truly appreciate them. It meant a lot to get them and read them when I was not active because there were a few dark moments during my time away with everything going on, and honestly, it made me really happy. While I could never express my thanks in enough words, please know I greatly valued it.

I wanted to keep this short and sweet, but as we know, I am not known for short things (I try I swear askdjahjhksdj)😅

Thank you, and I wish everyone a fabulous day with tons of hugs and kisses.

I can't wait to write to you all soon~ ❤️

[secret-sturniolo]

scars to your beautiful - matt sturniolo

summary - When Matt has a sinking feeling about y/n, he takes matters into his own hands to make sure she is okay.

warnings - discussions of self harm, eating disorders, body image (no super graphic details)

a/n - this is based off of some of my own experiences and mental health issues. there will be no graphic imagery or details, but please do not read or interact if this will be a trigger for you.

Matt's POV

I had been asking our friend y/n to hang out with us for weeks now, and in that time my brothers and I had only seen her a handful of times. This was extremely out of character for the bubbly, out going girl that we knew. I had brought this up with Chris and Nick, but they figured that she just needed some space. While that may be true, I still had a bad feeling about y/n that I couldn't shake. I finally decided to call her.

Y/n's POV

I had been holed up in my room for the past few weeks, just idly scrolling through pictures of skinny, beautiful girls on Instagram. I had hit an all time low. Baggy clothes covered my shrinking frame and my red striped arms. It had been days since I had something proper to eat, and my body was feeling the effects. Even though I was so dizzy I could barely stand up, I repeated the mantra in my head. Beauty is pain, beauty is pain. And I would do anything to be pretty. I was past the point of feeling sadness. I was completely devoid of feelings, numb to the world, including my best friends. I knew they were probably worried about me, but I didn't care. I was too focused on the pictures and the razors. In the darkness, my phone screen lit up with Matt's contact.

A facetime call, dammit. I couldn't let Matt see me like this, so ignored the call and just let it ring, not worried about the possible consequences.

y/n, i'm worried about you. please call me. 7:45pm

I stared at the screen, my fingers frozen. Guilt washes over me as I realized how worried Matt was. More thoughts come flooding in.

You have to be pretty for Matt

He'll never like you if you look like that

I toss my phone aside not noticing my new notification, mind made up about what I was going to do next as I walk to my bathroom.

if you don't answer me, im coming over 7:57pm

alright, im coming over. be there in 5 8:00pm

Matt's POV

"Damn it!" I say out loud after there is no answer. I sent her a text, hoping she would call me back. When she didn't respond, I sent a few more messages, silently begging her to respond. Still nothing. My stomach was in knots as I walked out of my room to the living room where Nick and Chris were watching a movie.

"I'm going to y/n's place. Something's wrong, I know it." I say in a panic.

"Woah, Matt, hold on. Did you try calling her?" Nick asks me.

"Yeah, and I sent her texts and shes not responding. It's not like her, Nick."

"Do you want us to come with?" Chris asks me.

"No, I think it's better if I just go," I say, grabbing my keys. "I don't know when I'll be back but I'll let you know."

The drive to y/n's apartment is short as she only lives a few blocks away from our place. I find her spare key from my keychain and unlock the door.

"Y/n?" I yell, with no response.

Wasting no time, I walk towards her bedroom. The room was dark, only illuminated by the light from the bathroom creeping under the door. As I get closer to the door, I could hear faint crying. I say her name again, knocking softly on the door.

"Y/n, its Matt. I'm coming in."

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I opened the bathroom door. She was sitting on the floor, back against the wall with a sharp object in her hand. I took in the red on her arms, the arms that looked smaller than I remembered, and the pill bottle in her other hand. Her eyes were dark and sunken in, she looked so sick and fragile.

Where do I even start? I thought.

Y/n's POV

I had no idea anybody was even here until the bathroom door opened, and I saw Matt standing there. His face was filled with worry as he took everything in. I burst into tears, finally feeling everything at once. Without saying anything, he moved to sit down on the floor next to me, pulling me into his chest. I breathed in the scent of his cologne as I tried to match his breathing, watching the rise and fall of his chest.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner. I had no idea..."

"You weren't supposed to know, Matt!" I sob. He lets me cry into his arms for a few more minutes before speaking again.

"Y/n, you need to tell me what's going on. Have you been eating?" he says gently but sternly.

I buried my face in my hands. "Matt, I can't tell you!"

"You know you can tell me anything, y/n. Talk to me, please." he pleads.

I broke down and told him everything.

"I don't know what to do, Matt! I can't stop. It just feels so right!"

"But why, y/n? Why did this start, did something happen?" He looks into my eyes.

"I just want to be pretty for you, Matt!" I sob.

He pauses. "For me? Y/n, I've always thought you were the most beautiful girl I have ever laid my eyes on. You shouldn't change yourself for anyone, especially not for me."

"Can you help me Matt? Like, help me get better?" I ask him genuinely.

"Of course, y/n I will always be here for you." he says. "I want to get you cleaned up, do you have a first aid kit anywhere?"

"There should be one in that drawer." I point with a sniffle.

I watch as Matt gently cleans and bandages my wounds. As he finished up, I grabbed his hand.

"Matt?"

"Hm?"

"I - I love you." I stutter out.

His lips form a smile. "I love you too, y/n. So much."

We both lean in for a quick but passionate kiss, not wanting to go overboard in this moment.

"Can we go to bed?" I ask him.

"Of course, let me text Nick and Chris so they don't worry."

He sends a quick text to his brothers saying he's spending the night at my place, and then helps me up off the ground, carrying me to my bed. He slides his hoodie and shirt off before climbing under the covers with me. I lay my head on his chest, feeling the soft rise and fall of his breathing. He must have sensed my anxiety.

"Hey, it's all gonna be okay. Nothing bad is going to happen between you and I, I promise it's all for the better. Just go to sleep, and we can talk in the morning." He places a gentle kiss on my head.

God, it's like he can read my mind I thought to myself. I trusted his words, and for the first time in a long time, I finally felt safe.

[hellhound5925]

Hello friends! I saw this gif and immediately my brain began working up scenarios so I’m going to try something new. Just some fun short fics that come to mind when I see an image. If it goes well I might keep it up! I also think I’m going to stick with the Mandalorian theme but use Y/N. Oh one more thing…we are assuming all the boys lived because I love the whole 501st…Happy reading!

One shot - Captain Rex

First Date

Warnings: None just some fluff because I need it, Oh I will be using Mando’a but I will provide a translation.

Summary:

As a Mandalorian on Coruscant things have been interesting to say the least…You were recruited to help train the Clone Battalions on some alternative fighting methods. The Good Captain Rex has become one of your personal favorites and was always very professional with you but secretly harbored feelings for you. He was drawn in by how you treated each of his men as though they were your own vode (brothers). Which brings us here…Fives has noticed you stealing glances at the Captain, flushing whenever he is mentions, are giddy when he’s in the room, and has been trying to convince you to talk to him about it but you won’t budge. Fives has no problem taking matters into his own hands with the help of a few friends….

I know that scene was during the Umbara arc but we need some positivity in that department…

“Fives you are my best friend but for the love of Maker leave it alone…” He has that signature Osik (shit) eating grin on his face. “Aw come on y/n, it would do you both some good trust me!” I glare at him “Copaani mirshmure’cye, vod? (Are you looking for a smack in the face mate?)” He puts his hands up in defense “Hey I was just trying be a good friend.” Just then Jesse and Tup come over. “What’re ya talking ‘bout?” Jesse teases. I glare at him and Tup smiles “You’re being ridiculous y/n…I thought Mandalorians were supposed to be brave.” “Alright look here you mir’sheb (smart asses), I can make sure your next lesson with me is miserable” I wag my finger at the trio. Fives stands up and nods to the other two “Alright, we better let her eat her lunch in peace.” I get suspicious - he never gives up that easy… - “Pare (Wait one), Fives what are you up to?” He turns around “Nothing, like you said…you can make our next lesson miserable. I know you keep your word.” I give the group a suspicious look and watch as they walk away. Just then Rex enters the room and I pretend not to notice. Fives looks back at me and smirks, I can feel the heat creeping up my face. He, Tup, and Jesse take the opportunity to head over and chat with Rex - Maker I want to know what he’s saying…or do I?

A sudden presence at the table surprises me. “Udesii! (Take it easy!), bad time?” Cody asks giving me a strange look. “Nope, I’m fine. What can I do for you?” He takes a seat across from me and eyes me. I look past him at the conversation being had on the other side of the room and just then Rex glances over his shoulder my direction. Cody turns around to look and in that moment, the brave Mandalorian wants more than anything to become part of the durasteel wall. Cody turns back around, facing me with a grin “Oh…I see, Rex got you all worked up again?” My eyes grow wide “Again?” He lets out a deep laugh “I swear to Maker you two are the only ones who don’t notice…Fox, Bly, Bacara, Neyo, and even sometimes Wolffe and myself take guesses at how many times a day you steal glances.” As if on que Fox joins the table. “Just in time for the show” Cody tells him while teasing me. “Ha Ha, you’re hilarious….” I roll my eyes. “Y/n, you still haven’t talked to him?” Fox asks pretending to be shocked. A string of curses in Mando’a leave my mouth. “You guys are as bad as Fives….and that’s saying something.” They both just laugh at my expense. “You two di’kutla (fools) are lucky I don’t have your groups today for training…” and with that I get up and take care of my tray, having had enough of the shenanigans.

————

Later that evening I was in my office - the GAR was oh so kind enough to give me - and theres a knock at my door. With out looking up from my datapad I holler “Come in!” The door slides open and a rather sheepish Rex enters - he’s typically quite a confident, without being arrogant, man… - I stand “What can I do for you Captain?” “Please just call me Rex.” “I thought it was Captain or Sir?” I tease becoming rather nervous. He rubs the back of his neck and laughs nervously “I- uh- I came to see if you would be interested in going with us—with me to 79’s sometime.” - is this really happening? Fives you mesh’la di’kut (beautiful idiot) - “Yeah Rex, I’d love that” I can feel my face flush. He straightens, standing tall and confident “Really? How about tomorrow night?” A smile dances across my face “That sounds great, I’ll see you then”. He nods and excuses himself closing the door behind him.

I spin around smiling like di'kut (idiot), clutching my datapad to my chest - maybe Fives was right? Oh Maker don't ever let him know that...the last thing he needs is a more inflated ego.... I head back to my desk and finish up my report for the day before heading to my apartment for the night.

————

Thankfully I only had one training session the next morning which went without a hitch and I actually had time to catch up on my reports. The day over all went by rather quickly and I headed to my apartment to put on something other than my typical attire - as much I love my beskar and everything it stands for but unfortunately it's not gunna work. I open my closet and stand there for a moment before pulling out a pair of black jeans, combat boots, my bantha leather jacket, and nicer fitted tank top. Quickly I shower, put on light makeup, and quickly curl my hair a little before heading out to the street and hailing a cab. "79's please." "You got it." I look out the window as the driver lifts us into the lanes of traffic.

It only takes a matter of minutes to get to 79's and I find myself standing outside nervous - what if he decides he doesn't like me? An arm around my shoulder pulls my from my thoughts "Jeez y/n, If I knew you'd get cleaned up that nice I would’ve just asked you out myself." I throw at elbow at Fives an hit him square in the stomach. He doubles over and I hear a roar of laugher behind me. Spinning around I see the rest of the 501st Torrent squad - minus Rex. "I should’ve known you all would show up..." Jesse comes over and leans an elbow on Fives - whose still doubled over - "Oh come on we wouldn't miss this for the world! Besides we've got tomorrow off!" Hardcase whoops and hollers. Echo comes over and speaks so only I can hear "you'll be fine...Rex'll love getting to know you. Trust me." He winks and gestures for the group to follow him inside leaving me standing here alone. I suck in a deep breath and head inside. It's not my first time at 79's but its my first time with the intent to be with Rex and only Rex.

When I enter, the music is loud and there's a sea of people as usual. Making my way over to the bar I order a drink. Once the bar tender hands it to me I glance around looking for Rex. In the corner - where they always are - the rest of Torrent squad is looking at me and Fives points over towards the other side where Rex is chatting with the other Commanders. Finding my confidence I head over to say hello. "Su cuy'gar (Hello)" I smile and wave at the group. Rex's eyes wander over my form and Cody is the first to speak up "Who knew you wore anything other than armor" everyone but Rex and Wolffe laugh. "Very funny.” Rex gets up and says his goodbyes to the group "Should we grab a table?" I nod and he offers me his elbow. "Such a gentlemen" A smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

We sit down at a table and chat over some appetizers and drinks. I tell him a little about myself like my childhood on Mandalore, etc…etc…He tells some stories about the things that they accomplish during the war and even some typical shenanigans they’ve pulled while deployed. “Maker they sound like they are just as entertaining out in the field as they are in training!” “You have no idea…but they’re good soldiers…some of the best” I can hear the pride in his voice which brings a smile to my face. Leaning over the table I whisper “Don’t tell the other Commanders but the 501st has always been my favorite.” He quirks a brow “Oh really? Why’s that?” “Let’s just say I have a soft spot for the boys in blue” I say coyly before taking a sip of my drink without breaking eye contact. Rex smirks with his one eye brow still raised. “Careful Captain, you raise that eye brow any higher it might disappear.” He chuckles and shakes his head, “you know, other than the Jedi and a select few people…you’re one of the only ones who treats all of us clones like we matter.” I know this was supposed to be a compliment but I can’t help but feel sad, I sigh “Ni ceta Rex (I’m sorry Rex). It’s not fair…none of you chose the life given to you and yet you all do it with no complaints…I wish more saw you the way I do.” I start picking at my fingernails but a hand comes across the table, covering mine, stopping me. Looking up I met his gaze, those beautiful honey brown eyes have such a warmth to them - He’s never looked at me or anyone that I’ve seen this way before. “I’m just glad we have someone like you looking out for us all” he pauses for a second before continuing “The way you treat my vode (brothers)…my men…it means more to me than you’ll ever know.” The way he says my name and everything that follows does something to me I can’t even fully put into words however, I can feel the heat rising in my face and in my core. “Vor entye (thank you) Rex” I can’t help the smile that plasters my face. “ Ba’gedet’ye (you’re welcome) y/n.”

Glancing around I notice there are quite a few people dancing, even Fives who gives me a wink. I can’t help but shake my head and roll my eyes at him which catches Rex’s attention, he chuckles. Springing up from the table I grab Rex’s hand and drag him out onto the dance floor. The initial shock plastered on his face, “I-uh-I’m not much of a dancer.” I laugh and shrug, recalling a few nights when even Cody would dance…after a few drinks, “I know, just follow my lead.” He nods and at first watches me dance around him for a moment and the joins in. Before I know it his hands are on my hips as we grind our way through Maker knows how many songs.

When the night is about over Rex offers to walk me home. The entire way we laugh and talk about anything and everything - I feel so comfortable around him…it feels like we’ve known each other forever. I stop in front of my apartment building “this is me.” He looks up at the large building “It’s not quite like the GAR barracks.” “No it certainly isn’t. Did you want to come in? If I’m over stepping I completely understand…” I quickly explain. He looks over at me with a smile on his face “only if you want me to.” I nod and he follows me up to my apartment.

The door slides open and I enter, taking off my coat to hang it. Rex enters behind me. “Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything?” I offer. “I’m alright, thank you.” He doesn’t move from where he standing and I honestly find it adorable. “I had fun tonight” I break the silence after a few moments. He rubs the back of his neck like he’s nervous. “Everything okay Captain?” He’s quick to respond “Yeah no everything’s great I had fun tonight too.” I make my way back over to him “but?” I ask feeling uneasy. “Honestly, I’ve felt this way before” After all the war and training he’s even through as a man, in this moment he looks like a boy with his first crush. I put both hands on his plastoid covered chest and look into his beautiful golden brown eyes “I haven’t either but I’m willing to give it a shot if you are?” His hands find their way to my face gently cupping my cheeks. Leaning in he places the softest and most gentle kiss on my lips. When we break he rests his forehead against mine “How’s that for an answer?”

[iantimony]

duesday

listening: idk, stuff on my phone on shuffle. some more coral bones youthemism i guess. friends at the table sangfielle, episode 3; i might not actually relisten to the rest of the arcs i already did and just skim the transcripts.

no children (ska remix) by sad snack: im back in my ska era. really funny song to have an upbeat ska tone.

the mountain goats deserters fan album: have not listened to the whole album yet but god, what a cool and unique thing that i don't think could really exist for most other bands. Five Fucking Hours

reading: Polynesian Tattooing Tools, linked from Fairhaven comic

why gen z is obsessed with point-and-shoot digital cameras: it's funny because a few months ago i was considering getting a cheap point-and-shoot to fuck around with. looks like i am not the only one who was thinkin about it.

i'm working my way through le guin's 'the left hand of darkness'! i bounced off it the first time i tried reading it a few years ago but last year i read a le guin short story anthology that had some stories set on karhide and i think that gave me a good enough primer on the world/her writing style to get it to stick this time. i'm enjoying it! it's a good book!

watching: mina le - booktok & the hotgirlification of reading: some good background video for crochet etc. bernadette banner - hand sewing regency stays should be quick...right?: oughhhhh so pretty. bernadette banner - this regency court gown is probably my favorite project ever: i won't lie i got a little misty-eyed at the artisans getting to sign their names on the robe.

rewatched the gay and wondrous life of caleb gallo. i forgot how good it is, it really holds up and is still funny

also, continued doctor who watch/rewatch. i'm ngl i think the way rory and amy were shoved off screen was...really stupid. "he can't go back to that specific year in ny :(" ok, before amy gets zapped back you just go "yo go to new jersey in a few days" and go pick them up. really silly imo

playing: fallow. did buy miserichord, omori, and slay the princess in the steam summer sale. i have signalis, voyager 19, and a short hike in my cart as we speak. more games that i haven't played to feed the steam library let's goooo

making: crocheted some granny squares.

pattern for the yellow one is this lantana square...if anyone has any interesting looking granny square patterns that would be good in one solid color send em my way!

thinking of getting this pattern too.

i realized this past week that my urge to Make has been very stale and derivative the past few years, if that makes sense. like i don't feel Creative, i see something and mimic it - i do paintings based on photos i took, i follow knitting patterns, i come across something ceramic and decide to make one of my own, i find reference images to copy. but no actual, like, Inventing on my own end. i think that's why i haven't done a lot of fanart or fanfiction as well, just no ideas. i know that's just part of the cycle of creativity and i'm just in a "hunter-gatherer" period of amassing skills and references but idk. i'm tired of it. i want to create more meaningful things but i have no actual ideas, the well feels dry, and i'm not sure how to fix that.

eating: fallow

misc: stares at my mom and brother doing politics doomerism re: supereme court ruling in the family group chat. looks away. chants 'nothing ever happens' to myself like a mantra.

[v-love]

Tissues and Blood

(Dandy Mott x GN!Reader)

Request: “heyy! so, i was thinking about a short fic where the reader is concerned about dandy’s sudden sneezing and allergic reaction through the past few days and the both find out it’s actually dandy’s dust allergies seeing as dora hasn’t been cleaning anything for our infamous man child just to spite him? I THOUGHT OF THIS RANDOMLY AND I THINK IT COULD BE RLLY CUTE? though poor dora when she gets caught though 💀”

I love this idea! I am going to put a darker twist to it because why not, amirite? I hope you enjoy this first part and please be gentle!! This is my first writing after not doing so in so long!!

Warnings: None

Images/GIFS are not mine.

You sigh softly as you walk through the door with a few bags. “Dandy, I’m home! I brought you something from the candy shop.” You stumble a bit to close the door and start walking to his room. Your face contorts to a slight frown as you hear nothing but sneezing and noses being blown. As you turn the corner, you see Dora blowing her nose.

“Oh my, you have allergies as well? Everyone in town has been so upset with the pollen lately.” You say as you hand her a tissue, seeing her nod and stiffen a bit. “It has been a bit difficult miss, I’ll manage. Thank you.” She says, her brows knitting together as she wipes her nose. In the distance you hear Dandy whining and sneezing as well.

“Everyone really is a bit sick. Oh also, please clean the windows again. They look a bit dirty because of the pollen. I’d appreciate it a lot!” You say as you walk towards his room, not seeing her roll her eyes at you and continue to blow her nose.

Hearing a knock at his door, Dandy frowns and opens it. He hears you gasp at his appearance, his eyes were swollen and his nose was runny and red. “I look a mess! I can’t even see properly! It hurts..” He whines and sits on his bed, pressing ice to his eyes to try and sooth the swelling.

“My love..god what even caused this?” You say as you help him wipe his nose and the stray water streaks leaking from the ice on his eyes. He leans into your touch, suddenly tired from his little outburst. You hear a slight wheeze in his breathing and frown. “We should see a doctor, sweetheart..” you say and reluctantly move away, dialing the number. You hear him whine quietly from the loss of contact and the sound of the bed dipping in his weight.

“Hello yes…I would like to set an appointment for tomorrow morning at 9 for Dandy Mott…yes…it seems like he’s having a small allergic reaction from something. It might be the pollen…yes…” You look over at Dandy’s tired and flushed form in the bed, his breathing getting a bit heavier with exhaustion. “…he’s too tired to go today…yes thank you, I’ll take the number…” you quickly wrote down the number the secretary gave you and soon hang up. As you glance at Dandy again you notice how the room feels a bit stuffy.

“Dust? But Dora is so good at cleaning..maybe it’s just my eyes…” You say to yourself as you walk out of Dandy’s room to let him rest. The click of your shoes against the floor echo lightly as you travel to the kitchen. “Dora, please make me a snack. I don’t mind whatever you give me. I just need to eat before I pass out.” You check the time and see that it’s almost 4 pm. “And make dinner right after please. I trust you will make something delicious for Dandy and I.” I smile and she nods in her usual cold manner.

You turn on the tv and sigh softly as you watch it, snacking on the apples Dora cut up. Your legs itch to get up and move to Dandy’s room, just to check up on him. Eventually that thought wins and quickly head up to his room. You quietly enter and see him having a sneezing fit. “Dandy hold on.” You say and pull him away from the shelve he was about to hit with his head. He smiles shyly at you and wipes his nose. “I think it’s gotten a bit worse..” he says sadly and pulls you to bed.

You smile a bit and hold him close. “My sweet boy, are you sure you haven’t eaten anything unusual?” You ask and watch as he nods in response. “Have you eaten lunch? Was it late?” He nods twice more and yawns, pull you closer. “I just want to sleep..” he mumbles and then is out like a light.

The next morning you both get ready and head out to the doctors. Dandy’s eyes were still a bit puffy and red and around his nose was irritated and raw. You held his hand as you check him in and head into the room, sitting him down before sitting down yourself. “They are going to take a few tests and we might have to wait a day or two.” You say as the nurse takes all his information down.

“The doctor will be in to see you in a few minutes.” They say and leave just you two in the room. “How do you feel? Still hurts a bit?” You ask and kiss his forehead. “It does hurt a bit in my nose and eyes but my chest bothers me the most.” He says and looks up when the doctor comes in.

The doctor clears his throat and nods at Dandy. “The results will come in sometime tomorrow. When they do, I’m going to do at-home check ins. Take this right before you go to bed, this is just general allergy medicine for pollen and things like that. It should give you some relief. I will ask you to please stay home. That includes you as well.” The doctor says, looking at you. “We need to make sure it’s not anything you’re being in either. You can go to work but come straight home after.” They do one last temperature check to make sure it’s not linked to any virus. “Lastly, don’t eat anything or drink anything you wouldn’t consume on a day to day basis. This is very important because if we need to run anymore tests, we can pin point exactly what food or drink it is. With that, you two are free to go. Take care Dandy. I’ll see you at around 3 pm.” They say and watch as you two walk out.

When you both get home, the aroma for Dandy’s favorite meal wafts out into the hall. It’s now around dinner time and Dandy has been sort of complaining that he was hungry. “I think she made your favorite, love.” You say and set your things down, watching as he heads to the dining room. Humming, you hang your hat and do a double take. “Are you serious?” Inspecting the coat and hat hanger, you see more dust. “The hell is going on…she’s always been so proficient at details.” Your head fills with things to say to her when you get time to pull her aside as you sit down at the table.

“Looks delicious.” Dandy says, smiling a bit at her. It was rare but when he did Dora seemed to beam in pride. This time, she stayed the same. “Thank you, enjoy.” She says and retires herself to the other room. As you both eat, you think hard on a reason why Dora has been failing at what she always takes pride in. At least her cooking was still brilliant. You barely notice Dandy calling your name until he sets his cup down a bit hard.

You look up and see him annoyed. “Why are you ignoring me? This time it’s not my fault that I’m sick or whatever I am at the moment.” He says and frowns. “Or is it..” he mumbles to himself.

“No, Dandy. I’m just in my own head, I have a lot to think about.” You say, smiling apologetically. He frowns more and stands, walking over to you. “You have to stop thinking so hard.” His hands cup your face gently. “You always get horrible headaches and we can’t both be sick. I can barely breathe through my nose and see through my puffy eyes..imagine having a headache on top of everything.”

You laugh and shake your head. “I know..it’s getting late, let’s get ready for bed. We don’t want to miss our show do we?” Dandy smiles and shakes his head, helping you out of your chair and taking you upstairs.

The sounds from the tv drown out any thoughts you have as you fix your hair a bit so you don’t wake up with it too messed up. Hearing Dandy laugh at any jokes the people make make your heart soar. You lay down next to him and laugh too, gently kissing his cheek and watching the show. “Why does he always fall in the same spot? You would’ve thought he would learn by now.” He says to you, looking down and noticing how your eyes start to droop.

“Sleep my love.” He says in a soft tone and watches as you slowly drift off to sleep, staying up to watch a bit more before he himself drifts off to sleep.

I hope you enjoyed it! Part two will be posted sometime this week or next week! Send in any requests you have and any comments!! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed!!

Taglist: @evanpetersfav @yes-divine-ruler @ghastlyfilters

[theradicalscrivener]

Acorn - Part 13

Travis arrrives at Acorn for his first official shift as an Acorn boy, and it's all hands on deck.

Getting into the home stretch. Next chapter will be the finale followed by a short epilogue.

(P.S. Ya boi's got Linktree and Bluesky now)

[First Chapter] || [Previous Chapter] || [Next Chapter]

                As soon as Travis stepped through the doorway, he could tell that there was a very different feel to the diner this day. The past few times he had been here, there had been a sort of undercurrent of excitement and playfulness, but today everything was ramped to eleven. It felt more like the lead up to Mardi Gras than it did prepping a shop for a day of sales. The place was packed and there weren’t even any customers yet!

                Travis looked around and noticed a few familiar faces. Curtis was there, of course. The new couple had arrived together. Curtis also noticed Dave coordinating the various staff as well as one or two employees that Travis had seen but not really interacted with. There were also a large number of guys there that Travis had never met. It seemed like it was all hands on deck today.

                As Travis’s eyes scanned the crowd, he noticed that most guys were either clad in just the tiny waist apron uniform or they were clad in even less. He spotted one or two guys clad in familiar looking cages around their cocks. Travis marveled at the devices. They looked so huge compared to the ones he had been using over the past twenty-four hours.

                Travis heard the rush of movement behind him, but he was not able to react fast enough to stop the impending headlock. A much shorter figure had rushed up behind him, jumped, and in a WWE style takedown had latched his arm playfully around Travis’s neck and pulled him down into a noogie.

                “What gives!?” Travis yelped, but the only reply was a deep chuckle. Eventually, Travis managed to pull himself out of the headlock and step away from his attacker. He looked up to see the culprit but was not at all surprised to see Trent standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face. Trent, of course, was among the ones that was nearly completely nude. He had shoes on and not a stitch more. His short chode was hovering dangerously close to a full chub.

                “Was that really necessary?” Travis grumbled.

                “What!? I gotta razz the newbie, right?” Trent teased.

                “What do you call what you’ve been doing the past few days?” Travis countered.

                “Are you saying you want me to stop?” Trent teased.

                Travis was taken aback. Travis was actually glad that he was still fully clothed because his jeans hid his rapidly swelling stiffy – a stiffy that no longer made a pronounced bulge in his otherwise tight jeans.

                Curtis stepped between the two of them as if breaking up a fight. “Now, now. You know the rules. No visible marks on the merchandise,” Curtis said playfully.

                “If you get a bruise from a headlock, that’s on you,” Trent teased Travis.

                “What about the noogie!?” Travis countered.

                “He said no visible marks. No one’s gonna see your scalp,” Trent teased.

                “Whatever…” Travis grumbled.

                “You’ve got more fight in you today. I like it,” Trent said and playfully elbowed Travis’s side.

                Travis was too surprised to formulate a good comeback. Was he really that meek before? It’s only been two days since he interviewed here. Has his demeanor really changed that much?

                His mind flashed back to the past few days. Images of fooling around in the dorm halls, the dining hall, and even at the quiet pond on campus. He had definitely grown bolder especially when in the company of his new boyfriend.

                Although… grown was a bit of an ironic term. As Travis mulled over the physical changes he had undergone, his eyes glanced around the room to the various other employees. His eyes lingered especially long on the dudes that were currently sporting cages like the one he had used. His gaze must have lingered a bit too long because Trent had another playful barb aimed at him.

                “None of them have quite taken to them near as much as you have, tiny,” Trent teased.

                “W-what!?” Travis yelped. He tried to act innocent and casual, but it was clear he had been busted. Not to mention Trent’s playful barb had found purchase in Travis’s psyche and not in a bad way. As the word ‘tiny’ echoed in his head, he could feel his dick chomping at the bit to unload. Fortunately, Curtis stepped in before Travis could get too worked up.

                “I think I mentioned that these are a fairly new addition,” Curtis said.

                “Only a few guys have really tried them, and most of them only go down a size to look extra cute for their shift. That way they can go back to being average when off the clock,” Trent explained.

                Travis nodded along as Trent explained, but his mind was only halfway in the present. There was a memory in the back of his mind that was struggling to surface, but it was just out of reach.

                Travis perked up upon hearing a small, metallic clink of something hitting the ground. He glanced up to see one of his new coworkers bent down to pick up some dropped silverware. The way the dude bent over made it very clear that he had nothing on under his apron. Travis was given a brief, tantalizing glimpse of the dude’s tight hole. That boy’s butt was begging to be played with, and while Travis may no longer have the cock to properly please such a rump, he knew how to use his fingers.

                Travis felt a hand gently on his shoulder. He looked over to see Curtis smiling at him. “We should get ready. Wouldn’t want to be late for your first official shift, after all,” he said pleasantly.

                “R-right!” Travis agreed.

                Travis was guided towards the back room. Curtis’s arm was over his shoulder and gently leading him to where he needed to be, but Trent’s hand against his butt was much more forceful. The way Trent gripped his ass was more than just for guidance. Trent was clearly copping a feel. No doubt, he was looking forward to getting Travis out of his clothes, and judging from the glances from other employees, Trent was not alone.

                Somewhere in the back of Travis’s mind he wondered what he had done to garner so much attention. He was just one guy in a sea of strikingly hot dudes that worked here. Even if he was The New Guy, it seemed odd that he should get so much attention. The only thing that Travis could think was that word of his reduction had spread.

                Travis’s mind flashed back to the brief convo he and Curtis had had by the side of the pond. This was to be a big unveiling. It was not unreasonable to believe that there was something akin to an office group chat. Had Curtis hyped him up in preparation for this event?

                By the time the trio pushed their way through the double doors leading to the break room, Curtis and Trent were already beginning to work on the various buttons on Travis’s outfit. Curtis was plucking away at Travis’s shirt, and Trent was hard at work at Travis’s fly.  Although, given that Trent still had a hand down the back of Travis’s briefs, undoing the buttons on his fly was much harder than it needed to be.

                By the time they had made their way to the lockers, Travis’s shirt was completely unbuttoned and his pants were starting to sag. Curtis suddenly stepped in front and pushed Travis’s shirt off his shoulders while planting a passionate kiss right on Travis’s lips. Meanwhile, Trent tugged at the waistband of Travis’s jeans and quickly shimmied the semi-snug garment down around his ankles. Travis shrugged the shirt the rest of the way off and stepped out of the pants leaving him clad in just his boxers.

                Travis was rock hard by this point, but it wasn’t obvious to the outside observers, his cock was just so short that it barely even made a tent. The lump in the front of his boxers could just as easily been a wrinkle as it was a boner.

                Trent grabbed hold of the waistband of Travis’s boxers and began to tug them down just as he had done Travis’s jeans, but before he could do so, Curtis reached down and quickly grabbed his wrist.

                “Bro,” Trent protested as he shot an indignant grimace up at his coworker.

                Curtis flashed a playful smirk down at his coworker. There was a glint in his eyes that Trent had seen a few times in the past which suddenly got him very curious. Curtis had a plan, and it was sure to be fun for everyone.

                “We don’t know how small he is yet,” Curtis explained. There was an impish smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

                Trent’s face went on a journey. It started out as indignant but then shifted to confused then to questioning then a look of understanding crossed his face. Soon, his expression was just as impish as Curtis’s own.

                “I’ll get the tape,” Trent said.

                “Call the others while you’re at it,” Curtis said with an impish smirk.

                “Of course,” Trent replied and shot a devilish wink.

                Travis was an observer to all this, but it wouldn’t be quite fair to say he was a passive one. He had quickly picked up what Curtis was putting down. After all, they had discussed this on the shore earlier. This was the moment that Curtis had promised him. Just thinking about it sent a shudder of excitement down his spine and a tremble of arousal up his cock.

                Travis was easily the stronger of the two, but he was so caught up in the moment that he couldn’t even consider resisting as Curtis shoved him against the locker. Curtis reached a hand down the front of Travis’s boxers and playfully cupped Travis’s rigid, shuddering cock. Curtis’s hand felt huge! Travis’s dick was so small that Curtis could cup the entire bait and tackle in the palm of his hand!             Travis tried to run the numbers. He had a general idea of the size of Curtis’s hands. Maybe he could extrapolate how small his cock was now… but before he could solidify any numbers in his mind, the feeling of Curtis’s mouth kissing a path down the nape of his neck caused his brain to short circuit.

                Travis gasped as he felt Curtis’s kisses turn into a sharp suckle.

                “W-wait!” Travis gasped.

                “What? You don’t like it?” Curtis said playfully.

                “What about the no marks rule?” Travis asked.

                “I think we can bend the rules a little…” Curtis said. His voice shifted from playful to conspiratorial as he leaned in close once more and whispered the last bit into Travis ear, “besides… I want them to know you’re taken.”

                Travis shuddered with excitement. It was fun to flirt and to flaunt what he had, but he also wanted everyone to know that he and Curtis were together. As Curtis resumed kissing and suckling the nape of Travis’s neck, Travis stood there and shook like a leaf. His mind was overloaded with pure euphoria. Not only did he want to show everyone his bod and his new rod, but he wanted to let everyone know that he and Curtis were together! Curtis’s lips against his neck felt so fantastic that Travis almost creamed himself right then and there. Cumming just from being marked by his lover felt like the perfect way to show how happy he was, but he resisted with all his might even though it hurt his heart to do so. He needed to wait, if for no other reason than to show off his new dimensions for the rest of the crew.

                Fortunately, Travis didn’t have to wait for long. It was a small establishment. There was the back room, the kitchen, and the dining hall. It only took a moment for Trent to rush onto the dining floor, shout for the crew, and then guide them back to the lockers. In a matter of mere moments, Travis was standing there surrounded by a cadre of hot guys all eagerly awaiting the big reveal.

                “I think we’ve kept the audience waiting long enough…” Curtis said playfully into Travis’s ear.

                Travis could only nod in reply. He was so excited that he could hardly collect his thoughts let alone formulate words.

                Curtis gave Travis another passionate kiss on the lips and then began to kiss a path down Travis’s neck, down his pecs, across his abs, and down the sculpted V of his Adonis belt until he reached the waistband of Travis’s boxers. Travis’s boxers were sitting lower on his hips than normal. Trent had tugged them down slightly before Curtis could stop him, but even so, it hadn’t bumped against his rigid dick yet.

                Travis’s mind reeled. There was a time when even with his boxers riding high on his hips, his boner would stick up well past the waistband. He could have pressed his cock against his abs and had more than half of it sticking up past the waistband. Now, his boxers hung to low on his hips they sat like a micro bikini and the tip of his dick didn’t even hit the waistband. Just how small was he? He needed to know. Thankfully, Curtis wasn’t going to keep him in suspense much longer.

                Curtis pulled down on the waistband and slowly inched Curtis’s boxers down his hips until they fell with a soft plop around his ankles. His tiny dick was left to stand at attention for all to see. Or it would have if Curtis’s head wasn’t blocking the view from most of the audience.

                Curtis took a moment and marveled at Travis’s tiny dick for a moment. He had had a decent idea of how small it was when he saw it growing after their icy swim in the pond, but this was the first time seeing it in all its glory. It was by far smaller than his own. The shaft itself thinner and shorter than his thumb. The nuts themselves the size of peanuts.

                Curtis stepped aside to let the crowd get a good look. Everyone gasped in awe at what they beheld. Travis’s rigid cock was astoundingly tiny. A dick that would be more at home on an elementary school kid than an adult now graced the space between his legs.

                “Woah…”

                “Didn’t he have a full foot the other day?”

                “Isn’t it permanent if you do too much?”

                “Yeah. There’s no way that’s growing back.”

                “I didn’t think it was possible to get that small!”

                “No wonder Dave called for full attendance!”

                “And I thought he was hot when he was hung!”

                “There goes my tips.”

                “You could try downsizing too.”

                “I might have to!”

                “It’d be a good look on you.”

                The cheers and quips and conversations all rattled around in Travis’s brain. The voices felt miles away and right in his ears all at the same time. He couldn’t wait to get out there and start his shift. He couldn’t wait to see the reactions of the regulars, but there was something else that needed to happen first…

                Curtis held out his hand. Trent quickly slapped a small tape measure into Curtis’s palm and then stepped back to give Curtis space to work. Curtis knelt down beside his lover’s reduced rod and placed the tape alongside the shaft. He gently placed the tip of the tape flush with Travis’s crotch and then made a dramatic show of very slowly placing the tape down along the length of Travis’s cock. There was an audible drum roll coming from a couple of the people in audience as Curtis glanced at the final ruling.

                “Wow. Three whole centimeters,” Curtis said playfully.

                There’s the old trope in TV and movies where the sound of a record scratch plays and then the central figure makes some comment about “I bet you’re wondering how I got here.” Travis felt like he was in one of those scenes. Three centimeters? He didn’t know the exact conversion, but that was more than an inch, right? He was less than two inches this morning. He hadn’t even halved in size? Wasn’t that how these worked? It seemed he would lose more than half his size with each shrinkage, so why was he still so large?

                He knew it was strange to think of it as such. He had a dick that was barely bigger than an inch. He had a literal kid dick on a dude’s body. It was miniscule by any measure, but still it felt like too much. He had let his mind run away with him. He had played this scene out in his mind too many times in the lead up to this moment, that he wondered if it would even have been possible to be pleased with the results, but even as the crowd around him cheered and jeered, Travis could only barely hear them.

                His mind flashed back to the pond. He had lost his cage early. The shrinkage from the icy water must have impacted the effects of the cage. Could he recover the cage? Could he put it back on and try again? Would it even work if he did? Didn’t he have to do an extreme shrinkage to get lasting results?

                Travis’s thoughts raged in his head until a booming voice dispersed not just his thoughts but the crowd that had gathered around him.

                “We open in ten minutes! Get to your places, everyone!” Dave shouted.

                The crowd quickly dispersed. Even Trent scampered away and returned to the dining hall leaving just Curtis, Travis, and Dave in the back room.

                Dave stepped forward and eyed Travis up and down as if studying him. After a tense moment, Dave turned his attention towards Curtis and said, “I see you got the extra small sizes out of the cabinet.”

                “Yessir…” Curtis replied.

                Dave nodded as if mulling it over for a moment. Eventually, he looked Travis in the eyes and said, “I was surprised how readily you took to these. I figured you would get scared after the first session and quit.”

                “Did you want me to?” Travis asked. He was suddenly feeling very small and not in the fun way.

                Dave chuckled and shook his head. “No, no. I was glad to see you stick with us, and I was impressed by how small you wanted to get. Although… this makes things a bit interesting for today’s event,” he said.

                “Is there a problem?” Curtis asked.

                “Nothing you need to worry about. Go on. You’re needed on the floor,” Dave replied and waved to signal that Curtis was dismissed.

                Curtis managed a polite “yessir” and flashed his boyfriend an nervous glance before he too scurried off to finish preparations.

                Dave watched Curtis leave. Once Curtis was far enough out of ear shot, he turned back to Travis to finish their conversation.

                “I may have promised something to the regulars,” Dave said.

                Travis waited for a moment for Dave to continue, but this guy loved his dramatic pauses. Eventually, Travis spoke up if for no other reason than to break the awkward silence. “… oh?” Travis asked.

                “These cages are a new addition to our offerings, and most guys use them for a temporary reduction while on the clock,” Dave explained.

                “Y-yeah. Curtis and Trent mentioned something like that…” Travis replied.

                “I’m sure they did. Trent likes to talk like he knows everything, but Curtis… he actually knows what he’s talking about most of the time. We don’t really have ranks here, but if I had to say, Curtis would be akin to a shift lead at other places. He’s close to a second in command around here,” Dave explained.

                “Oh… he’s not in trouble, is he?” Travis asked.

                Dave balked for a second. Stared Travis up and down, and then suddenly started laughing. “Oh. No. Nothing like that. I guess I came off a little harsh there,” Dave said between chuckles as he stifled his laughter.

                “Am I in trouble?” Travis asked.

                “No one’s in trouble! I’m not angry. I was going to ask if you wanted to do something special,” Dave said.

                Travis raised an eyebrow questioning, but otherwise stood straight at attention while his boss spoke. “… oh?” Travis asked.

                Dave pulled something from his pocket and flicked it at Travis as if he was flipping a quarter. The object spun towards Travis’s face where it would have collided had Travis not instinctively caught it.

                “It’s rare that a guy decides to permanently go down a size. When that happens, we like to make an event of it. Call the regulars in, make a show of it. A little before and after. You understand, right?” Dave said.

                “Oh… Oh!” Travis gasped.

                “I let Curtis take the small pack with him yesterday, but I didn’t expect you two to go through the whole thing!” Dave said with a chuckle.

                “I wasn’t supposed to go all the way…” Travis murmured softly.

                “You weren’t supposed to do anything. I don’t put such expectations on my boys. I want you guys to do what feels right because it’s what you want and not what someone else expects of you,” Dave explained.

                “But… you called this event so you could show off my… uh… reduction…” Travis stammered. It was weird. He couldn’t quite think of a good word for what happened. ‘Shrinking’ felt too sci-fi. This was too real for that.

                “Well, yes…” Dave said, clearly mulling it over.

                “Did I make a mistake?” Travis asked. It wasn’t clear if his question was aimed at Dave or directed at himself, but Dave was the one to answer.

                Dave placed a hand reassuringly on Travis’s shoulder. “You have done nothing wrong. This event is as much for you as it is for the rest of the staff and the regulars. Hell, I’d say it’s more for you than anyone else. I want this to be a memorable moment for you,” Dave said. Dave had a deep voice – a voice that commanded respect and authority, but there was also kindness in it too.

                Travis glanced down at his cock. Despite the tense atmosphere, he was still rock hard. He was excited to show off for the regulars and the rest of the staff. It was just a shame that he couldn’t go a little smaller to make a scene of it.

                “I had mentioned Curtis is like a right-hand man. He knows more than the others, but he doesn’t know everything,” Dave said.

                Travis wasn’t sure what to say. He cocked his head slightly to the side like a confused puppy but waited quietly for Dave to continue.

                “I saw the look in your eyes. While the rest were cheering you on, you wanted something more,” Dave said.

                “I… well…” Travis stammered.

                “Or maybe I should say, you wanted less,” Dave added. He shot Travis a knowing wink.

                “I… well… that’s…” Travis stammered. He was suddenly flustered. Being called out like this was somehow more mollifying than when he had thought he was in trouble.

                Dave let out a deep, pleasant laugh in response. “It’s fine. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. As I said, I just want my guys to get what they want,” he said.

                Travis looked back up at his new boss. There was a look of reverent awe on his face. He wasn’t sure what to say. He felt, for lack of a better word, safe. Dave was looking out for him.

                Dave’s smile broadened to the point that his pearly whites were visible. He nodded towards the object that Travis still clutched in his hand.

                Travis opened his hand and stared down at what he now held. Travis had caught the thing on instinct. He hadn’t even looked at it. Whatever it was, it was tiny. It had looked the size of a quarter while spinning in the air, but he hadn’t taken stock of the shape of it. Now, however, he could see it for what it was.

                It was another cage. One even smaller than the one Travis had lost this morning.

                “Curtis doesn’t know everything,” Dave said. He gave Travis a conspiratorial wink before turning and heading back towards the door leading to the dining room. Dave stepped through the doorway, but before shutting the door, he looked back over his shoulder and said, “I hope you enjoy the party. It’s as much for you as it is anyone else.”

                Travis stood there in stunned silence as he stared down at the cage in the palm of his hand. It was little bigger than a thimble. Dave’s words from earlier echoed in his head.

                “This event is as much for you as it is for the rest of the staff and regulars.”

                “Hell… I’d say it’s more for you than anyone else…”

[First Chapter] || [Previous Chapter] || [Next Chapter]

[allzelemonz]

Doodles: Abe X Male Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘man’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: G/Fluff Warnings: Epilogue-ish, vague time setting, Reader is also a ranch hand, Abe draws, slight misunderstanding/miscommunication but it’s resolved quickly, fluff, you can pry my background/side character from my cold/dead hands Summary: Abe has a bit of a crush on the new ranch hand, so he channels it by drawing.

Abe doesn’t typically get distracted. He works hard and always tries his best. But ever since Mister Geddes introduced you as the new ranch hand, he’s been distracted. You shook his hand and he found himself unable to speak his own name, you smiled at him and his heart doubled its pace, he was smitten from the moment he met your eyes. He feels guilty staring at you. It’s indecent, staring at folks usually is, but he can’t keep himself from it. The way you hold yourself, the way you walk, everything makes a flutter appear in his stomach.

So he draws.

He finds the odd scrap of paper and an old pen and he just sits during his short breaks, eating between covering the pages with images of you. With how often he does it, he’s become pretty good. He started with little things, hardly resembling you. But as he recalls the image of you hauling hay across the ranch, he draws each line with skill.

“Hi, Abe.” You call, walking past him.

He scrambles, holding the paper to his chest as his heart threatens to burst. You’re just passing by, that’s all, just saying hi.

“Hello!” He calls back, getting ahold of himself before you’re too far away

He brings the paper back to rest on his lap, staring down at it with a feeling of nerves. You haven’t come that close to him since you first came to the ranch. What if you caught him drawing, if anyone caught him drawing? He’s gotten to the point where there’s no mistaking who he’s scribbled onto the pages he tucks in with his clothing in a chest by his bed. Would you be disturbed? You might never look at him again.

You might leave the ranch to get away from him.

He crumbles the page into a ball, holding it tight between his hands. His heart has calmed down from the scare and he takes a few deep breaths before he stuffs the paper into his pocket and gets back to work.

The tools need proper care, Abe convinces himself that everything is due for an overhaul of maintenance just so he can stay inside. He doesn’t think that he can handle seeing you again after what happened. He’s not sure what to do with the drawings, but the one resting in his pocket feels like it’s burning a hole in the fabric.

“Hi again, Abe.”

He jumps a little, not having heard you come in. His eyes dart away and he tries to focus on his work.

“You mind sharpening this for me?” You ask, holding out an axe.

He glances between you and the tools he’d been cleaning. “Uh, sure, okay.”

You smile at him when he takes the axe from your hands and he nearly drops it.

“Are you okay, Abe.”

“I’m, uh,” His face flushes, so he turns around quickly. “I’m just fine, partner.”

Abe stands by the sharpening wheel and begins his task, trying not to look at you.

“Do you not like me or something?”

Abe stops stepping on the pedal, a bit of panic taking over him. “No, no, no.” He shakes his head and turns to you. “Yer just fine, Mister! It ain’t nothin’ like that.”

You cross your arms and Abe feels the panic increase.

“What’s it like then? Everybody around here gives me the time of day, except you.”

The way you point your finger at him makes his heart sink. “I-I don’t mean nothing by it.”

“You scared of me?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No, sir. I ain’t scared of ya, I just…” He can’t find the right words, he doesn’t even know the right words.

You sigh, shaking your head. “I know I haven’t been here long, but you always seem strange around me. I just want to know why.”

“It, uh, ain’t yer fault, Mister, it’s mine. I, well, I’m a bit of a mess.” Abe says, glancing around and attempting a laugh.

You stare at Abe for a moment. He refuses to look at you, his eyes focus on the axe in his hands, then the wall next to you, then the ceiling, anywhere but you. You’ve been here long enough to know Abe is relatively put together, everyone speaks highly of him. If he’s acting so oddly around you, there must be a reason.

“I think I’ll work with the cattle, finish the wood later.” You say, meeting Abe’s eyes for just a second. “Thanks anyway, Abe.”

Abe tries to form words, but he just stands there, holding the axe with a red face as you leave. He tightens his grip on the axe as he huffs in frustration. He sets down the axe by the wheel and fishes the paper from his pocket. Once he smooths it out, you stare back at him. This version of you has a smile, seemingly welcoming and unbothered. His grip on the paper tightens and he looks up to the lantern on the wall. Before he can change his mind, he grabs the lantern and opens it so he can stick the page inside.

You spend most of the day working with the cattle. The infamous bull is especially moody every time you go near him, the ladies don’t seem to care about your presence nearly as much. When you do everything you can there you go back to retrieve the axe and continue your wood chopping. Abe isn’t there anymore, so you carry on and find the axe among the other tools. As you walk, you feel your foot hit something. You look down to see a lantern on the ground, the flame snuffed. Under your foot is a half-burned piece of paper. You pick them both up, placing the lantern back on the wall and lighting it again. The paper is blank on one side, so you turn it over. It’s a drawing, a pretty good drawing of you. The eyes are even, the nose matches yours, every detail is perfect as if someone spent hours pouring over the little sketch.

This is why Abe acts so oddly around you.

He isn’t particularly jumpy, but his nerves are on edge today. He drops the bucket he’s carrying when you say his name. When he turns, you’re looking down at a piece of paper. He scrambles when he realizes what it is, trying to explain himself, but no coherent words come out and you stop him.

“I like it.”

Is all you say and Abe blinks as if he can’t see properly.

“Ya do?”

You nod. “It looks like you worked hard on it.”

Abe's heart beats heavily against his chest and his mouth goes dry, only having the sense to nod in confirmation.

“Is this why I never see you, you’re too busy drawing me?”

You say it with a smile that eases Abe’s nerves but makes his stomach flip.

“Not all the time, just when I got nothin’ else ta do.” He fidgets with his hands as he smiles at the reality of you liking his drawing.

“Why me?”

Abe glances back up to you. Your face is kind, a soft smile present, and your focus is on the paper. He looks back at his hands, searching for an answer. He knows why, but he’s not sure he can say it out loud.

“You sweet on me or something?” You ask.

Abe’s face flushes as his eyes dart up to you for just a second. He attempts a laugh to make it seem less awkward, but it comes out as a rhythmic exhale that only he can hear.

“It’s alright if you are.” You say, stepping towards him. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Abe looks up when you hand the drawing back to him. He takes it in his hands for a moment before giving it back to you. “I want ya ta have it.”

You hold your hands over his as you reach for the paper. Abe steps closer, his eyes meeting yours when you’re only an inch away from one another. He leans in, pressing your lips together. It lasts for only a second, just a ghost of a kiss, but it’s still enough to make both of your hearts speed up.

[thefactsofthematter]

u asked and i will deliver. if u want to write this feel free to change literally anything but

model davey! he graduated college with honors, has a degree in poli sci, and was literally about to go to law school before being signed to a modeling agency- thus starting a turbulent relationship with his family. he starts doing runways and soon moves into print works and even in his short time of modeling he’s become a frequent in some of the most well-known fashion magazines. this is great, this is amazing- but it has an impact on his mental health that he wasn’t ready for.

enter jack kelly, the makeup artist that somehow always seems to work with davey; jack is known for his bold editorial looks and impeccable work, yet he has quite the image in the industry. he’s stubborn, he’s unorthodox, he’s got quite the temper, but his work speaks for itself. jack is the guy who never wears makeup to shoots, he never dresses up unless it’s something important, he’s got piercings and tattoos and a list of bad habits following him wherever he goes.

anyway blah blah they fall in love they indulge in bad habits and reckless things they get better and boom they’re everyone’s favorite powerhouse couple!!!

ohohohoho JAC!!! i’m obsessed!!! god a model au just tickles my brain the perfect way and this is everything @we-are-inevitable

here’s a fun (or possibly fucked up? idk those are synonyms to me sometimes) little one shot! tw for some mentions of disordered eating - as one might expect from a model au

-

David Jacobs is a nice person.

For all twenty-three years of his life so far, he’s told himself that. It’s been mostly true— he’s never had much of a temper, he treats people with empathy and kindness, and he’s never been demanding or high-strung. He’s normally a pretty chill person who’s easy to please, and who genuinely likes to help people and make them happy.

Nothing about the past year has been normal, though, and he’s starting to realize it might be messing with him a little. Just a few weeks ago, parents were bitching about how much he’s changed, and he thought it was bullshit… until he suddenly catches himself storming away from his personal assistant (which he has now, by the way,) after shouting:

“Just stop talking and figure it out yourself! Can you fuck off and leave me alone for two fucking seconds? Oh my god.”

And then he’s off, out the back door of the set, to sit on the fire escape and try to cool down. He knows he’s being an asshole, but he’s at the end of his rope— he hasn’t eaten an actual meal in three days, there’s makeup caked all over his face and too much product in his hair, he’s sick of people touching him and telling him what to do, and fucking Romeo won’t stop reminding him how busy he is by asking stupid questions about his jam-packed schedule for the next few days. He has a runway show tonight that’ll go to at least midnight, and a 5 AM call time for a shoot tomorrow, and then an afternoon flight to Paris— he doesn’t care which of the two hotels Romeo booked he actually stays at, because they’re both five stars anyways, so it shouldn’t be this much of a hassle to pick one and cancel the other, and it’s something that should be able to get taken care of without needing to bother him about it.

He instinctively goes to rub at his eyes once he’s outside, but he freezes when he hears:

“If you fuck up your makeup, I’m not fixing it for you. I hope you’re done shooting in there.”

His head snaps to the side, and he sees none other than Jack Kelly.

He’s leaning against the wall, with half of a foil-wrapped bodega breakfast sandwich in one hand and a coffee in the other, obviously on a break. He’s still wearing his makeup-stained apron over his clothes— comfy-looking joggers and a t-shirt that shows off his tattoo-covered arms— and he’s got a Givenchy beanie perched almost precariously high on his head. He doesn’t seem pissed, mostly amused, but Davey has heard rumours about his allegedly quick temper; fucking up his work would be a good way to get on his bad side.

“Sorry,” Davey sighs. He folds his arms over his chest to keep his hands away from his face. “I think I’m done— they might want more shots once they look at what we’ve got, though. I don’t know. I have to get out of here soon for a fitting uptown either way.”

It was Jack who applied the fancy, editorial eye makeup that Davey nearly ruined— his apprentice does the base layers of foundation and whatnot, but it’s Jack’s artistic vision and skill that people pay for when they book him for stuff like this, so he does the important parts himself. He takes his sweet time, snapping at people when they try to rush him, which is why Davey spent over an hour in the makeup chair this morning.

It’s probably the tenth or-so time Jack has done his makeup, but they’ve barely ever conversed, both of them too busy being pulled in a million different directions by everyone else on set.

“Busy day, huh?” Jack chuckles. His nose crinkles a little when he laughs, and it makes his septum piercing wiggle. He takes a bite of his sandwich and then talks as he chews. “What were you yelling about in there?”

Davey very nearly rolls his eyes.

“Nothing,” he mutters. “It’d just be nice if my assistant would fucking assist me sometimes, instead of asking me a million questions about every stupid little thing. He drives me insane, I swear.”

Jack quirks an eyebrow.

“Fire him, then.” He shrugs. “You’d have to start calling your own Ubers and picking up your own coffees, though… might be tough.”

Davey is pretty sure he’s joking, but he does have a point— Romeo takes care of a lot of the day-to-day shit that Davey himself doesn’t have time for anymore, everything from posting on his social media to ordering his groceries. He does a lot more than anyone gives him credit for.

“I’m not gonna fire him. He’s a good kid,” Davey sighs. “I’m just… pissed off right now. I needed to get outside and breathe for a minute.”

Jack finishes his sandwich, crumpling up the foil and shoving it into a pocket of his apron. He then reaches into a different pocket and procures a joint and a lighter.

“Here.” He holds them out to Davey. “Chill out a little.”

Davey blinks, staring more at Jack’s tattooed fingers than what’s held between them, and then quickly shakes his head.

“Sorry, no. I don’t smoke.”

Jack laughs.

“You’re a model, and you don’t smoke?” he teases. “That’s funny, tell another one.”

Maybe it was a good thing he hasn’t talked much to Jack before��� he’s really fucking annoying.

“Fine, only cigarettes,” Davey ultimately concedes. “I’m not into weed.”

Jack shrugs and lights the joint, taking it to his own lips for a puff.

“Suit yourself.”

It’s quiet for a second as Jack exhales the smoke. He’s a real picture of effortless beauty— he’s obviously not thinking about his appearance right now, but there’s something almost untouchable about how casually gorgeous he is.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Davey ends up adding, “but I get so hungry when I’m high. I’m on a diet right now, so I can’t do that to myself.”

Jack shakes his head.

“Models… maybe that’s why you guys are brats. You’re hangry all the time.”

“Hangry?”

“You know, hungry and angry. You get all irritable because your agent convinced you a human can survive on, like, three almonds a day, when any sane person knows that’s bullshit.”

Davey’s stomach grumbles annoyingly, as if on cue. He’s not even that hungry. He already had a coffee this morning anyways, which should’ve been enough to get him through to dinner time.

“You’re kind of a dick,” Davey remarks. He wouldn’t typically be so blunt, but his bad mood is making him lose his filter. “What’s your deal?”

Jack shrugs.

“I’m tired. People think I’m an asshole for trying to take my time and do my job right, but when I rush it and cut corners to keep people happy, they get pissed that it doesn’t look good. There’s no winning, and it’s fucking exhausting.” He takes another puff of the joint. “Pays the bills, though.”

Davey rolls his eyes.

“That hat you’re wearing retails for, like, five hundred dollars. I think it pays more than your bills.”

Jack laughs, and it’s not that cynical chuckle from before. He actually smiles, caught off guard by the remark.

“Fair point. In my defence, I got the hat for free from a photoshoot. Another perk, I guess.”

Davey finds himself smiling too.

“How long have you been doing makeup?”

“I’ve been playing with it forever,” Jack replies, “but professionally, about five years. How long have you been in the game?”

“Almost a year.” Davey pauses. “I was in school— I actually finished undergrad and got into law— but it wasn’t right. I got scouted in August, and thought fuck it, I might as well try. It worked out pretty well, I’d say.”

Jack eyes him sort of curiously.

“You gave up law school for this?”

“Got out of going to law school, more like. I didn’t want to do it.” Davey shrugs. “It was more my parents’ thing. I wasn’t that interested.”

Jack blows a ring of smoke, almost absentmindedly.

“How do they feel about your career change?”

Davey shakes his head.

“I haven’t talked to them in, like, a month, if that tells you anything.”

“Damn.” Jack offers the joint to Davey again. “You sure you don’t want some?”

A pause.

“Fuck, I guess a couple hits couldn’t hurt.”

Jack grins and passes it over.

“I knew it.”

Davey silently takes a breath of smoke. It’s been forever since he’s indulged this way, and it feels good. He coughs a little on the first hit, but his head almost immediately feels clearer, so he goes for another.

“Feel better?” Jack asks, after a long moment.

“Yeah,” Davey breathes. “Thank you.”

He passes the joint back to Jack, who stubs it out on the railing— there’s just enough left that he could relight it for a few more puffs later, once this little buzz wears off.

“We should hang out sometime,” Jack offers. “I’d like to get to know you, Jacobs.” He pauses. “Any relation to Marc?”

“Nope. I walked for him in the spring, though.” Davey laughs softly. “You’re right, we should hang out. I’m going to Paris tomorrow, but I’ll be back in two weeks— let’s plan for then.”

Jack picks his coffee up from where he set it on the windowsill.

“I’ll bring the weed, if you bring home some cool European snacks for us to try.”

Smoking and snacking are both habits that Davey should be trying to avoid— but god, would it ever feel good to unwind when he gets home from this work trip. Maybe he deserves a night to relax with a new friend.

“Sounds good to me,” he replies, against his better judgement. “I should go, but I’ll DM you, okay?”

“Perfect,” Jack says. He waves as Davey turns to head inside. “Have a great trip. Take it easy on your poor assistant, okay?”

Davey laughs.

“Will do. I swear I don’t normally yell at people like that. Just… running low on patience today, y’know?”

That’s a stretch— he runs low on patience pretty often these days, and Romeo tends to take the brunt of it, but Davey pays him to deal with it, so he doesn’t feel that bad about it. When you’re a star, there’s certain things you can get away with: Davey’s occasional bitch fits are no worse than Jack’s famous temper tantrums. When you’re at the top, who’s going to give you shit about it?

“Oh, I know.” Jack winks. “I think we’ve got a lot in common, Dave.”

Davey smiles coyly over his shoulder as he heads back inside. He knows he looks good— he revels a little in the way Jack’s gaze stays glued to him. Maybe he’s admiring his own work, but maybe he’s admiring the canvas underneath it.

“I think you might be right. See you around, Kelly.”

And then he’s immediately being hurried back into a makeup chair so someone can clean his face, in order for him to be whisked off to the fitting that he’s already late for— at this point, people know better than to expect him to be on time.

Again, he’s a star, he does what he wants.

If he wants to waste time smoking outside with Jack Kelly, nobody’s going to stop him. Maybe he’ll make a habit out of it.

[sataniquepanique]

The Queen of Hellfire: Part One

Part One: Labyrinth

Summary: Two women had a monumental impact on Eddie Munson's life: his mother, and Meg.

Genre: angst, some fluff, Eddie x OFC

Warnings: mentions of DV, mentions of alcoholism, trauma responses, smoking

Word Count: 8.8k

A/N: I'm very interested in knowing Eddie's backstory, so I created something with that in mind. I always imaged Eddie being a shy kid, who eventually grew into the character we know and love. I have a few chapters planned. This is my first go at an OC, so go easy on me <3

September, 1980

The hallways of Hawkins High were stifling; even though it was September, summer still had a vice grip on the state of Indiana with no immediate plans of letting go. Eddie was nauseous. The heat paired with his nerves about the first day of freshman year were eating away at his internal organs; it would be a miracle if he made it through the day without spewing all over the hallway. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to tame the short curls in what he knew was a futile attempt. 

Mental note: never shave your head again, Munson; the growing out phase is painfully embarrassing. 

No one could guess by his calm demeanor that Eddie was fighting the overwhelming urge to sprint all the way back home to Forest Hills, seeking the asylum of his room, back to the safeguard of Uncle Wayne. A neutral expression hid the fear coursing through his body like poison; he had gotten very good at masking over the years, a mechanism he picked up back when he was in the care of his parents. 

He gripped the strap of his backpack tighter, the old canvas bag had seen better days. What was once black, is now a deep, dull gray, littered with small tears, scuffs, and a few painted doodles. Duct tape was basically holding it together at this point, having used it throughout middle school and abusing it almost daily by cramming each pocket full of novels, DnD manuals, firecrackers, and any other bizarre paraphernalia that peaked his curiosity. Money has always been tight, even with Uncle Wayne working overtime at the plant, so back-to-school shopping was non-existent in the Munson household. Any new clothes that Eddie owned were more than likely shoplifted by the young teenager, the rest of his meager wardrobe consisting of thrifted pieces mixed with Wayne’s old hand-me-downs. He had only recently started fitting into his uncle’s clothes, having finally started to grow into himself within the past year. Though they were all still a size too large, Eddie would frequently wear one of Wayne’s old flannels; the threadbare fabric brought comfort on days where he just wanted to disappear. 

Days like today. 

Grasping a class schedule in his fist, Eddie quickly maneuvered the crowded hallways, careful to avoid eye contact with any upperclassmen as he searched for his locker assignment, number 116. Wedged between the biology lab and the library, the small expanse of lockers revealed numbers 105-125. Tongue poked out in concentration, he spun the dial a few times, trying to remember the combination.

31.

17.

…2?

Yeah, 2.

According to the crumpled grid in his hand, he had the earliest lunch period, meaning only two classes stood between him and sneaking outside to read in solitude. Tossing some textbooks into his already over-stuffed bag, he slammed the metal door shut and made a beeline for English. The thought of 40 minutes full of literature calmed his nerves a bit. Books had always been a safe haven for him, even as a young child. His mom had read to him often, almost every night before bed, painting his imagination full of far away worlds and magical creatures. Beneath his bed were always piles of books, hidden away from his father who would more than likely try to throw them in the garbage given the chance. Eddie would escape to his fantasy worlds when things got tough; frequently hiding in his closet to read while his dad was storming around the house in a haze of alcohol and anger. 

In Middle School, he was a frequent flyer in the guidance office, usually for talking out of turn or pulling a prank on an unsuspecting student; but during the end of 7th grade his counselor called Wayne in for a meeting. Eddie was doing poorly is most of his classes, and his uncle immediately jumped to his defense, citing the visible intelligence of the kid, one that the counselors agreed wholeheartedly upon. He wasn’t dumb by any means, he just wasn’t being challenged, leading to him slacking off and not completing any of his work. They explained at length about how smart Eddie was, providing written statements from teachers about his knack for building narratives and the quickness at which he could problem solve. The solution provided was to put Eddie in some accelerated classes, to which he gave a stark refusal. The other kids had already labeled him a weirdo, with his tattered clothes and quirky interests, he didn’t need to add anything else to the list. Eventually, through the coaxing of Uncle Wayne, he agreed to Advanced English. As it turns out, AP English was one of the best things to happen in the young boys life. Mrs. Lewis incorporated so many great literary masterpieces into her curriculum, even doing a deep dive into the writing style of Tolkien, Eddie’s favorite. 

This year, he chose to forgo enrolling into any higher level classes, wanting to make a fresh start in high school; a clean slate where no one knew his name. He could fly under the radar and just be a normal teenager, no more bullies, no more taunts. High school would be different.

———

The exit door was across the cafeteria, flanked by long tables filled to the brim with rowdy students, conversing loudly and adding to Eddie’s already overwhelmed senses. As his eyes scanned the occupied tables, he noticed the numerous other freshman that had seemingly found their respective cliques. A storm of jealousy and sadness formed in his gut; he didn’t have any friends in his grade, so like with most things throughout his life, Eddie was on his own. His two partners-in-crime, Gareth and Jeff, were younger and still in Hawkins Middle, and although he knew he’d see them after school, it doesn’t do him any good as he stands in the proverbial lion’s den. Making friends was never his forte, choosing to keep to himself for the most part. After growing up in a broken home, Eddie had grown accustomed to loneliness; it had made him apprehensive about anyone and anything, so getting into his tight knit circle was an exceptional feat.

Clutching a tattered copy of A Wizard of Earthsea, Eddie hiked his backpack up higher and quickly snuck towards the door to the outside patio before anyone noticed him. Head down as he reached for the door handle, his body crashed into an immovable object. Dazed, he looked up to see the largest boy he’s ever seen, clad in a white and green Hawkins Tigers football jersey, blocking the exit and staring down at him menacingly. 

“Where’re you headed, dork?” He spat, teeth showing somewhere between a snarl and a smile.

Eddie tried to push his way past, “I-I’m just going outside—“

The jock slapped the book out of Eddie’s hand, the paperback losing a few pages as it bounced off the floor. He stared at the large boy’s chest, too afraid to look him in the eye, but also too scared to move. 

“Well…?” The older boy motioned towards the floor, “are you going to pick your shit up or just keep staring at me like some sort of homo?”

The slur caused Eddie’s throat to constrict, bringing back memories of his father hurling the same exact insult at him a few years back when he had first attempted to grow out his hair. Swallowing the bile in his throat, he bent down to pick up his novel, only to be kicked over by the linebacker, head hitting one of the metal chair legs of a nearby table. Eddie shakily started to get up, as the other boy moved to push him over again, only this time someone stepped in between.

“Enough, asshole!” 

Her voice was demanding and strong as she squared up in front of a boy that was at least twice her size. Eddie peered around her legs, trying to make out the expression of the older boy. 

“Fuck you, Meg,” the jock barked, any hint of a smile wiped from his round face. 

Eddie glanced up at the girl as she shifted her weight slightly to one hip. 

“Oh Petey,” she crossed her arms mockingly as she coo’d, “you wish you could be so lucky.”

The jock (now understood as Pete apparently), clenched his jaw, the tips of his ears growing pink.

“Go back to your gang of fuckin’ losers, crazy bitch,” he steps closer to the auburn haired girl, looming at least a head taller, but she doesn’t flinch. Eddie watches as she tilts her gaze upward to meet Pete’s beady eyes, straightening her spine as a threat.

“I’ll show you fucking crazy, Petey boy. Is that what you want? Remember what happened last time?” Her voice was calm, but something in the tone visibly effected Pete. He pushed past her, glaring down at Eddie still cowering on the floor. 

The mystery girl watched him leave, finally turning her attention to Eddie, squatting down to help pick up the scattered pages of his novel. 

“You okay?” Eye level with him now, Eddie looked at the face of his savior. 

He swears the blue of her eyes is his new favorite color.

Her face was soft as she searched his own for a response. He grabbed the destroyed paperback quickly, averting his gaze, “y-yeah, I think I’m good. Uh—thank you.”

She handed him the loose sheets of paper that had fallen out, “You’re a freshman, right?” 

Eddie nodded, shoving the book in his backpack. His eyes drifted back to her, taking in the numerous patches on her black denim jacket that was a few sizes too large. KISS, Queen, Iron Maiden, and a few other graphics he couldn’t make out littered the worn garment. 

“Do you wanna come sit with us?” The girl stood up, pointing casually over towards the back of the cafeteria. Eddie rose off the floor and followed her finger; a table of four students of varying grades was posted up in the furthest corner, clearly in a heated discussion about something. If he was being honest, he wanted nothing more than to follow this girl, but every part of his body was screaming at him to run away to seclusion. Uncle Wayne’s voice popped in his head, gruff but encouraging, “do it kid, put yourself out there.” Tossing his backpack over a shoulder, he gave a shy nod, and the girl smiled. 

“I’m Meg, by the way,” she held out her hand, a formality which, to Eddie, made her seem older than she was. She couldn't have been more than two years his senior. He cautiously took her hand, squeezing slightly as she shook it.

“Eddie,” he managed as they approached her lunch table. 

“Well, Eddie the Freshman, welcome to the Island of Misfit Toys,” she motioned towards her group of friends, and something in Eddie’s chest sparked a feeling that could only be described as belonging. 

The kids before him were all dressed in shades of black, three sporting shirts from bands he loved. One of the boys was standing with a leg perched on a chair, waving wildly while he argued with a mousy-haired kid across the table. A small blonde girl sat beside the latter, laughing occasionally at their antics while she watched the banter like a tennis match.

“Guys!” Meg called, breaking the attention away from the raven-haired boy on the chair.

“This is Eddie, he’s gonna sit with us, today’s his first day,” she said, rounding the table to sit next to the tall kid that was still leaning on the plastic chair, the one who was now glaring at Eddie. The group went around introducing themselves, the small blonde named Kate was very sweet and moved her bag for Eddie to take up residence next to her. The boy beside her was Rick, he wore a weathered denim jacket atop a Led Zeppelin tee that reeked of weed; his incredibly chill demeanor made Eddie instantly like him. A boy named Matt was seated at the end of the table doing homework. He had round glasses that made him look extremely smart, not to mention the stack of textbooks in front of him with numerous papers and bookmarks scattered throughout. The tall argumentative boy finally sat down next to Meg, reaching across to steal a carrot from her lunch. After a few silent seconds, it was clear he had no intention of introducing himself.

Meg pulled her lunchbag away from his reach, “…and this is Adam, he’s a piece of shit,” she joked, the boys angular face finding her cheek where he placed a chaste kiss followed by a playful bite. She smiled, giving him a shove as he grinned deviously. 

“Eddie,” Adam turned his focus towards the other side of the table, eyeing up the new freshman, “we were just discussing our latest campaign,” 

“—you mean Meg’s slaughter-fest?” Matt interjected, looking up from his work.

Meg smirked from across the table, putting her hands up in defense, “Listen, it’s not my fault you’re unlucky in combat.”

Eddie’s heart skipped a beat, “Wait…are you talking about Dungeons and Dragons?” He asked quietly.

The table stared at him like it was obvious. 

“Yeah, we have a weekly party that gets together. We rotate houses and make a night out of it,” Kate chimes in, her eyes were kind as they blinked up at Eddie. 

Uncle Wayne had gifted him with a Dungeon and Dragons Basic Set for Christmas a few years ago, not entirely understanding what it was, but knowing that his nephew was so enthralled by anything fantasy that he was eager to contribute to the boy’s interests. Eddie was hooked the second he saw the cover, quickly involving Jeff and Gareth to create a small adventuring party. They learned as they went, letting Eddie take over DM duties and hosting one-shots almost every weekend. The three of them had been teased in middle school for playing, but it hadn’t bothered Eddie because he at least had his friends by his side. He wasn’t about to give up D&D now that he was in high school, but he was also not about to advertise the fact that he played, afraid of the ridicule he’d face at the hands of older kids. He understood the perception of the game, the claims of satanic indoctrination and ritualistic practices. To say he was shocked by the open admission of a functioning high school D&D party would be an understatement. 

“Do you play?” Meg’s voice brought his heart rate down, meeting her gaze with a shy smile.

“Uh, yeah. I’m not very good though…” he looked down at his hands, knowing that he was selling himself short.

“Gotta start somewhere, right?” She offered happily.

He felt safe with her, something he hadn’t experienced this quickly since being taken in by Uncle Wayne. 

“I actually DM for my party,” Eddie mumbled, not sure why he was being so open with this group of strangers.

Meg’s eyes went wide, “Wow, really? That’s amazing!”

Eddie liked the way her eyes crinkled at the edges when she smiled.

“I DM for this group—“ she motioned towards her friends.

“—yeah and she’s fucking ruthless,” Adam rolled his eyes. 

The sound of the bell made Eddie jump, the shuffling of the cafeteria growing louder as everyone made their way to the next class. Meg stood up, swinging her bag over a shoulder as she bent down to whisper in Adam’s ear, “Yeah, but you like when I’m ruthless.”

He smirked, pulling her down into a fierce kiss before she returned to full height, running a hand through Adam’s dark curls.

“C’mon Eddie,” she motioned to him, “I’ll walk you to your next class.”

He practically jumped to follow her, trailing behind as she effortlessly weaved her way through the throngs of students. She asked him questions about himself, something that threw him off; no one ever really cared enough to inquire about his interests, save for Wayne. Consistently being written off as “the problem kid”, growing up he was always being told by adults that he was “too much” or “annoying”; the comments shut him down, at least in public, forcing him into a reserved shell that only broke around the three key people in his life. Meg seemed to have no problem opening up to him, and Eddie was a little jealous of her confidence. Even the gait in which she walked was one of self-assurance, and he struggled a little to keep up, occasionally tripping over his own timid feet. Meg gave him more insight into her world; she was a junior, her other hobby is writing, and her favorite band is Queen. Eddie wanted—no, needed—to know more. He wanted to discuss literature with her, wanted to drive around and listen to A Night at the Opera with her singing every lyric beside him. 

“The party is meeting tonight to do a planning session for the next campaign, wanna join?” Meg stopped at Eddie’s World History classroom, spinning on her heel to face him.

The invitation gave him pause. He felt weird joining a different party from his own, but he didn’t want to pass up any chance to get closer to her.

Swallowing any bit of apprehension, Eddie nodded. 

Meg suddenly grabbed Eddie’s hand, pushing up his flannel sleeve and uncapping a pen with her mouth. Scribbling onto his forearm in a rush, she winks as she starts to walk backwards down the hall. 

“That’s my address, come over at 7!” She calls before turning around. 

Eddie looks down at the note on his skin, tracing a finger where she had held so delicately onto his wrist.

———

By the time they got to Meg’s house, Wayne was already 100% tired of hearing about her. Eddie had talked about her the entire ride over, annoying the daylight out of his uncle who had graciously offered to drive the boy across town on his night off. When Eddie jumped out of the car, Adam’s yelling from inside the rancher permeated the front walk; he couldn’t tell if it was serious or in jest. Eddie rang the doorbell, hands shoved into his pockets nervously. Just as he glanced back at Wayne driving off, the door swung open, Meg breaking into a wide smile at the sight of him. 

“Hi!” She chimed, opening her mouth to say something else but interrupted by another outburst courtesy of Adam.

“—DUDE! Come on!—“

Eddie grimaced slightly and looked at Meg’s annoyed expression, “What’s got him all revved up?”

She rolled her eyes, “Who fucking knows…” 

Moving over and motioning him to come inside, she shut the door and ushered the him into the living room where the rest of the lunchroom crew had gathered around the coffee table. Meg took a seat at the head of the table, as Eddie moved towards an empty spot next to Rick. 

“Eddie,” she called, “sit next to me, as a fellow DM I’d love to get your input on some stuff.” 

He bowed his head as he took a seat beside her, trying to hide the rush of blood to his face. 

The session went well, Eddie had never played with this large of a group before and it was a lot more fun than the threesome he was used to. Towards the end of the night, after a particularly divisive decision, Adam got agitated again. Eddie watched from the end of the table as he argued with Rick and Kate, voice rising as he stood and began to point his finger aggressively at the two of them. Eddie felt his heart start to race, an involuntary reaction due to his early years of hearing his parents violent outbursts. Clasping his hands together under the table, he willed his body to stop shaking, taking deep breaths through his nose. 

Adam slammed his fist onto the table, scattering miniatures and making Eddie jump. 

Meg leapt up and put her hand on Adam’s forearm. 

“Adam, babe,” she said softly, “everything’s okay, please calm down—“

“—Shut the fuck up, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he slapped her hand away, and Eddie felt a surge of emotion. He watched as Meg slunk backwards, rubbing the hand Adam had hit. Her eyes were glassy as she sat back down next to Eddie, and he instinctively reached to take her hand in his. She looked at him sheepishly, and he watched as his favorite shade of blue clouded over. 

Adam stormed out shortly afterward, slamming the front door and revving the engine on his truck loudly before peeling out of the driveway. Eddie hadn’t let go of Meg’s hand, rubbing small circles over her knuckle, the same thing he did to comfort his mother when he was younger. 

The rest of the party cleaned up, slowly starting to joke and goof around again. Meg released Eddie’s hold, and walked the newcomer to the door when she saw Uncle Wayne’s headlights outside. Holding the door as he left, Meg grabbed the back of Eddie’s sleeve before he walked away. 

“Hey,” her voice was low and sad, “thanks for coming, sorry for…all of that, he—“

“—don’t worry about it,” Eddie interrupted, he frankly didn’t need to hear any excuses for Adam’s shitty behavior, and he wasn’t about to listen to Meg apologize for something that wasn’t her fault, “I had a lot of fun, see you tomorrow?” 

Meg nodded, a small smile playing at her lips, “See you tomorrow, Eddie the Freshman.”

Visually tracing the water stains on his bedroom ceiling, Eddie couldn’t stop his mind from drifting back to Meg, but more specifically Meg and Adam. He didn’t like the way Adam spoke to her, arrogance seeping out of every syllable he spoke. More importantly, Eddie hated the way Adam touched her; full of aggression and disrespect. She deserved passion without anger, tenderness backed by admiration, love without the jagged edge of pain. 

Eddie mentally argued with himself; maybe he’s just projecting. He barely knows Adam, he could just be having a few off days and isn’t actually a bad guy. Meg’s smart, and he desperately wanted to trust her judgement, but a small voice in the back of his head was screaming.

He’s seen this dynamic before.

———

Eddie searched for Meg in the sea of students the next morning before homeroom, hoping to catch any glimpse of her auburn hair or black denim jacket. Rick and Kate stopped by his locker when they caught sight of him anxiously waiting. They wasted no time in reiterating how much fun the previous night was, giving no mention of Adam’s episode. The first period bell rang, a cue for the three of them to go their separate ways. He gave up looking for Meg with a sigh. He’d catch her at lunch, but he’d also have to see Adam, which created a pit in the bottom of Eddie’s stomach.  

He practically bolted towards the lunchroom at 11:00, eager to sit with his new found friends. Slowing down as he approached (he didn't want to seem desperate), he saw Meg laughing at something Adam was whispering in her ear. Seeing them happy caused conflicting emotions, Eddie was relieved to see them getting along, but he also yearned to be the one making her laugh, to be the one that could get that close to her. He set his bag down and took the empty seat next to Meg. She turned immediately, smiling broadly as she playfully bumped his shoulder.

“Hey fresh meat,” she sang, “how’s your second day going?”

Eddie stifled a nervous laugh, opting to shoot a sarcastic grin her way instead. 

The rest of lunch was uneventful, something he was grateful for. The five of them joked around and talked about making plans for the weekend. Adam was actually kind of funny, and very charismatic; Eddie could almost see why Meg fell for him. The shrill cry of the bell echoed through the cafeteria, and Meg groaned as she grabbed her bag off the floor.

“What’s up?” Eddie asked, concerned at her pained face.

She shook her head, “It’s nothing, I have to meet with my guidance counselor this period to talk about my ‘future plans’ after high school,” she feigned a gag. 

The dramatics made Eddie laugh, “What’s wrong with that?”

Meg shrugged as they walked side by side from the lunchroom, “Nothing, really, I just…wanna do life my own way. I don’t want to be told what I should do, y’know?” 

Eddie stops at the intersection of two hallways, “What do you want then?”

She stared off into the distance thoughtfully, “…I want to write. I’ve always wanted to be a writer. It’s also partly why I’m the DM of the party,” she chuckled, “I’m the only one that can actually keep up a good narrative.”

Her sincerity made Eddie’s heart soar. The second bell rang, and she quickly took to the opposite hallway, “Want a ride home later?” she called.

Eddie nodded a little too quickly, and Meg shot him a smile before opening the door to the guidance office.

“See ya later, Munson!”

———

Slumped against the brick wall outside the front of the school, Eddie waited for Meg after the final bell. Carefully picking through each face that streamed past, he finally caught sight of her as she pushed past the doors. His stomach dropped when he saw her defeated expression. Jogging over, he fell in step as she strode towards the parking lot, avoiding eye contact with him. 

“Hey!” He bumped her shoulder like she had done to him earlier, trying to be chipper in the hopes of being the one to lift her spirits, but she wouldn’t crack.

She walked him over to a black Dodge Dart, unlocking the door and sliding behind the wheel. Eddie waited as she leaned over and unlocked the passenger side, quickly throwing his bag onto the floor and settling in next to her. They sat in silence for a beat, Meg staring straight ahead while Eddie watched anxiously. If she was anything like him, she would talk when she’s ready, she didn’t need someone prying incessantly. 

In a single burst of energy, she smacked the steering wheel with her palm as hard as she could. Eddie’s eyes widened in alarm as he reached for her, pausing and thinking it better to not touch at the moment. 

“FUCK!” She yelled, throwing her head back against the headrest, eyes falling closed with a sigh.

He watched as her chest rose and fell, paying attention to when it started to slow.

“Hey…” he whispers softly, “what happened?”

Meg rolls her head to look at him, eyes dull and tired. 

“They’re threatening to make me repeat a year,” she scoffs, and Eddie can hear the pain behind her words.

He shakes his head in disbelief, “For what? You’re super smart!”

Meg lets out a sad chuckle, “Thanks dude, but that doesn’t mean shit apparently. I’m failing math and gym, and Ms. Kelly said that I need to have at least one extracurricular activity to graduate next year,” She rubs her eyes with the heels of her palms.

A few seconds pass before Eddie speaks up, “…how do you fail gym?”

Meg coughs out a loud laugh, and he smiles knowing he caused it.

“You refuse to participate, that’s how,” she turned the key in the ignition and looked over at him, “Wanna go somewhere? I don’t really want to go home right now.”

Eddie grinned, rolling down his window and pulling a loose cigarette from his backpack, “Of course, I have nowhere else to be. You got a lighter?”

When Meg didn’t answer, he looked over and she was staring at him with an incredulous expression.

“How fucking old are you, dude?” She giggled.

“Fifteen, why?

Meg shrugged, “Don’t you think you’re a little young to be smoking?”

Eddie pulled a face, “Weren’t you just telling me earlier how you don’t like when other people tell you what to do?”

She laughed again, pushing in the cigarette lighter on the control panel, “Fair enough. Did you at least bring enough to share with the class?” 

She held out her hand expectantly, wiggling her fingers as Eddie dug through his bag, emerging with another cigarette. He stuck them both in his mouth, pulling the now popped lighter and holding the smoldering coil to both tips. 

Passing one to Meg’s waiting fingers, he took a drag of his own.

“I could’ve done that myself, y’know,” she smirked.

Eddie rolled down the passenger window and blew a steady stream of smoke outside, “Pretty girls don’t light their own cigarettes, didn’t you know that?”

Out of his peripheral he caught her shy smile as she pulled out of the parking lot. 

———

Turns out ‘somewhere’ is a secluded bank along Lovers Lake, and according to Meg it’s her favorite place to hide from the world. She backed in along the tree-line, her expert maneuvering a sign she had done this many times before. Once parked, she hopped out, opting to leave the battery running in order to keep the radio on. She jumped up onto the trunk, taking a seat to look out at the water. Eddie followed suit, pulling one boney leg up towards his chest. They hadn’t spoken on the drive, just sat and listened to music with the late summer air rushing through the open windows. The lack of communication wasn’t awkward, in fact it made Eddie feel at ease. He had watched how the afternoon sun highlighted the red in Meg’s hair as it danced in the breeze, how her lips moved when she sang along to Led Zeppelin, closing her eyes a beat longer than a blink when she really resonated with a lyric. Now that he was sitting closer to her on the trunk, he mapped the light smattering of freckles on her nose. She turned to look at him, and he felt the blush bloom in his cheeks at being caught. 

“So, Eddie Munson,” Meg smiled, “tell me more about yourself.”

“W-what do you mean?” He stuttered, not used to the attention.

“Tell me about your family, tell me about your hobbies,” she hugged her knees, resting her head against them.

“Uh, well, I live with my Uncle Wayne. I’ve been with him since elementary school, since…since my dad went to jail…” he looked down at his hands. 

He’d never admit it out loud, but he was embarrassed of his father. Even as a young child, he couldn’t ignore the whispers around town about the ‘no good Munson’s’, not to mention the dirty looks and disapproving head shakes from people in the grocery store when they passed by. The first time Eddie was caught shoplifting, the clerk at the convenience store called the police, resulting in him sitting in the back of a squad car until Uncle Wayne came to pick him up. As he sat and stared at the metal cage separating the front seat, he heard the officer outside speaking to his partner, “—gonna end up just like his old man at this point. Wouldn’t surprise me honestly—“

Eddie hated his dad; hated the way he treated his mom, hated the way he had complete disregard for his own son. He would never end up like him.

He’d make sure of that.

Meg’s head quickly rose from her knees, eyes full of sympathy, “Oh, Eddie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up any bad shit…I had no idea—“

“—it’s okay,” he waved it off, shooting her a quick, sad smile, “I’m not upset or anything, Wayne takes good care of me. He’s more of a dad than my actual father could ever hope to be.” 

Meg nodded, “What did your dad go to jail for, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Eddie laughed, “What didn’t he go to jail for. He won’t get out for a while, not that he was really ever present to begin with…”

“What about your mom?” She whispered, afraid of the answer.

Eddie’s stoic as he looks over at her, “She’s dead. About a year before dad went to prison. He was always a piece of shit, but I think something about losing her really sent him off the deep end. Even after all the shit he did to her, there’s a part of him that still cared. At least, that’s what I choose to believe.” 

He felt something warm touch him, looking down to see Meg’s hand wrapping around his own. 

“Fuck him,” she whispered, and Eddie nodded.

“Fuck him,” he said proudly, smiling back at her, “What about you, Dungeon Mistress? What’s your origin story?”

Meg shrugged, gazing out at the water, “Not much to tell, honestly. My dad is a businessman, he’s in Indianapolis a lot for work but he’s a lot of fun when he’s home; we’re really similar personality-wise. My mom—“ she tapers off to take a deep breath, “—my mom is…complicated.”

Eddie squeezes her hand, “How so?”

“She’s got these expectations, ones that she forces on me specifically since I’m the oldest. She’s a teacher, so she has this crazy obsession with proper education, and I have no other choice but to go to college.”

“Don’t you want to? Go to college I mean…” He asked.

“Absolutely, I need to get out of this town. She just wants me to be a teacher or a doctor or something like that; she doesn’t support my writing, says I can’t make a living with it and she won’t pay for school unless I major in something practical. She ‘refuses to have Jack Kerouac for a daughter’,” she furrows her brows, shaking her head in the process, “we fight a lot, about everything pretty much. Nothing I do is every good enough for her. I just…I don’t want to have a career that keeps me here. I want to get out.”

No one had ever been this vulnerable with Eddie before, nor had he ever spoken about his own upbringing openly. Sure, his friends knew the story, but they had watched most of it unfold in real time and didn’t need to ask questions. Until this point, nobody else had been worth opening up to. 

Meg and Eddie fell into another comfortable silence, hands clasped as the sun set below the horizon. A flock of geese flew over the lake, a sign that summer was finally coming to an end.

Meg let go of Eddie’s hand and laid against the back window to stare at the indigo sky.

“What am I gonna do about school…” she groaned as Eddie leaned back next to her. 

“Well,” he thought out loud, “My best friend Jeff is like, a genius. He’s still in Hawkins Middle, but he’s been doing college level math shit for a while; something about wanting to get into MIT or whatever. I could ask him if he could tutor you?”

Her eyes sparkled as she looked over, “Yeah? That’d be awesome, thank you.”

Eddie nodded, “As for your extracurricular, do you have any like…talents or hobbies you can put to use in a club or something?”

Meg laughed, “Fuck no. I can’t play a sport to save my life, I have almost zero coordination, I’m not a chess genius, and I can’t sing or act well enough to join the theater kids.” 

Eddie hummed in thought, gazing up at the emerging stars, “Play any instruments?”

“Besides air guitar? Nope.”

Eddie grinned, scratching his cheek as he wracked his brain for an idea.

Just as Meg mumbled a small “I’m so fucked,” it hit him.

“What about D&D,” he sat up, looking over his shoulder at her confused expression.

“What about it…?” She responded suspiciously.

Eddie hopped off the trunk and faced her fully, “Start a D&D club. I guarantee the entire party would join, maybe we could even gain a few closeted players too. We could still meet once a week, but we would have a permanent spot at school to play.”

Meg rose up on her elbows, eyes narrowed, “Eddie, Principal Higgins would never allow us to start that up, you know what they say about D&D—”

“—Who gives a shit!” He threw his arms out, “It’s worth a shot, and if we make a convincing argument, maybe it’ll work.”

Her eyes softened as she sat up fully, “…will you help me?”

“Of course, with anything you need.”

Meg slid off the trunk, a smirk forming as the cogs in her brain started to turn, “What would we call it? It needs a cool name, something that sounds mysterious but doesn’t scream ‘nerd alert’.”

Eddie turned to look out at the lake again, running a hand through his short waves, wracking his brain for an idea. 

From behind him, Meg starts rattling off any thought that popped into her head, “What about ‘Dragon Riders’?”

Eddie huffed out a laugh, “That definitely screams ‘nerd alert’.”

“Knights of Hawkins High?”

“Hmm…no.”

“Board Buddies.”

“You’re fucking joking, right?”

Eddie squinted over the expanse of the shoreline, deep in thought. He heard Meg kick some dirt behind him. The radio hummed from the open car windows, the dull sounds of Highway to Hell filling the air.

—Hey momma, look at me,

I’m on my way to the Promised Land,

I’m on the highway to hell—

Eddie spun around. 

“Hellfire.”

Meg looked up from her shoes, “What?”

He smiled broadly, “Hellfire Club.” 

Everything clicked into place, Meg matching his expression as she walked closer.

“Hellfire Club,” she whispered, relishing in the way it flowed off her tongue, “You’re a genius, Eddie Munson.”

She held out her pinky, “Co-chairs?” 

Eddie wrapped his finger around hers, solidifying an unspoken alliance.

———

It had a name, but Hellfire Club needed to have a full write-up of details before it could be presented to Principal Higgins for approval according to Ms. Kelly. The next few weeks were filled with organizing and brainstorming sessions, at first only involving Eddie and Meg, but after they brought the idea up to the lunch crew, the unofficial club had a full roster. Everyone was ecstatic about Hellfire, at the possibility of having a stable meeting place, of bringing D&D to the forefront of the school’s population and not just a shadowy hobby practiced at home. They wanted to show the world that Dungeons and Dragons was an inclusive, fun, escape from the mundane daily drain of the world. All of Eddie’s free time was spent planning for the presentation; he was an almost daily fixture at Meg’s house now, talking animatedly about every detail that came to his brain as he ate dinner with her family. She never made him feel weird or stupid, she listened intently and would bounce outrageous ideas off him in return, eliciting eye rolls from her younger sister. 

As D-Day approached, Eddie was inseparable from Meg, spending every lunch period hunched over a notebook with her as they planned. 

The day before the presentation, Adam slumped into the seat next to Meg, slamming his backpack onto the cafeteria floor dramatically as his eyes connected with Eddie’s. The emotion behind them wasn’t kind. 

Meg paid him no mind as she reached over and stole one of Eddie’s chips, he broke away from Adam’s stare and smiled at her. 

Adam coughed, attempting to get Meg’s attention, “You wanna come over after school today?”

She shook her head, shoving a notebook back into her bag, “Can’t, sorry. Me and Eddie have to put the finishing touches on the final presentation for tomorrow.”

Adam let out a strained laugh, “You’re fucking unbelievable, y’know that?”

His tone made the table fall silent, Meg stopped rummaging through her bag to look up at him.

“What are you talking about?”

He shook his head in disbelief, dark hair flopping in front of his eyes as he stood up and grabbed his bag, “I haven’t hung out with you in weeks, you’re constantly ‘busy’ or so you say,” he made dramatic air quotes, and Eddie watched as Meg visibly deflated.

“I am busy, Adam. I need to get this club approved, I need to do this to be on track for graduation next year,” she was trying her best to sound calm, but he was only getting more frustrated.

“Oh yeah, so you can run away to New York or LA for college?” He spat.

“Adam please,” she sounded exhausted, “don’t do this right now…”

“Or are you just trying to spend more time with your new boy toy—“ he walked up behind where Eddie sat and pushed the back of his head towards the table aggressively.

Meg shot up from her seat and grabbed Adam by his arm, pulling him away, “What the fuck is your problem? Eddie didn’t do anything to you, he’s helping me build all of this.” 

Adam stared at her, eyes narrowed in anger, “Whatever you say, Meg.”

Kate appeared behind him, putting a small hand on his forearm, “C’mon, we have to get to Bio,” She offered Meg an apologetic smile, leading Adam out of the cafeteria but not before he shot her one last disgusted look. 

Eddie stared at the lunch table, unsure of what to say or do. He felt Meg’s presence settle next to him again.

“You okay?” She whispered, reaching down to pick up her bag again.

Eddie nodded, “I don’t have to come over tonight if you don’t want me to…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I want you to,” she shut his offer down immediately.

“But Adam—“

“No, Eddie, please. Hanging out with you is the best part of my day,” she stood up without further explanation and walked out of the cafeteria without looking back.

———

“Do you want to run over it one more time?” Meg flopped back onto her bed, landing beside Eddie who was cross-legged amongst a sea of papers and notebooks. 

He shook his head, “Not unless you really want to, I think you’ve got it down.”

She rolled onto her side and smiled up at him, “You really think so?”

Eddie shot her a look, “Of course I do, you’re a really good speaker,” he picked up a few loose sheets of paper and waved them around, “and all of the outlines and campaign examples you’ve written are amazing.”

“Really?” She whispered, doubt lining the edges of her words. He realized at that moment that the confidence he had first admired was shallow, and deep down Meg was just as insecure as him.

Eddie grew serious, “Yeah, they’re really good. You’re a great writer.”

Meg closed her eyes and rolled onto her back, “Thank you…Adam hates it. Says I ramble too much, and the words I choose are pretentious,” she gave a short, sad laugh.

“Or maybe Adam’s just a moron that can’t understand anything past a fifth grade reading level…” Eddie muttered a little too loudly.

Meg’s head shot over in his direction, mouth open in shock but quickly erupting into hysterical laugher. It was infectious, and Eddie joined in, falling back next to her and laughing up at the ceiling. 

As they came down from their fit, Meg grew quiet, and Eddie grew bold.

“What’s Adam’s deal?”

“Hmm?” She rolled her head over, eyebrows raised.

“Today at lunch, he made a comment about you ‘running away’.”

Meg hummed again, “Oh that. Yeah, he uh…he doesn’t support me going away to school.”

Eddie furrowed his brows, “Why?”

“He’s content here. His entire life has been in Hawkins, family hasn’t moved anywhere in generations. Adam’s life is…cushy to say the least. Dad has a job lined up for him after he graduates this year, so his future is already set. All he wants is a nice little housewife to come home to at the end of the day, and that is not going to be me. I need to get out of here, I need to explore the world, and Adam holds that dream against me.”

Eddie watched as she stared upwards, gazing at something a million miles away. 

“Has he ever…touched you?” He whispered at the popcorn ceiling.

“How do you mean?” She mumbled. It was already out of his mouth, he couldn’t take it back now.

“Has Adam ever hurt you?” He dared to look over, and watched as her jaw tightened. It took a few moments for her to speak, swallowing dryly before confessing into the cool air of the room.

“…once,” it came out as a whisper, and he watched as her eyes glassed over.

“What happened?” His voice was paper thin; it was taking everything to not scream. He wanted to find Adam and make him pay. 

“I uh…I didn’t want to have sex with him one night. He got upset and accused me of seeing someone else…and he shoved me into a wall. Hit my head on a shelf and cut the back of it a little.” 

Eddie watched as a solitary tear escaped and ran down into her hair. He searched for her hand and grabbed it, interlocking their fingers, “Why are you with him?” 

She wiped her eyes with her other hand, “He’s a nice guy, you just need to get to know him, Eds.”

He felt a deep rage start to smolder in his chest, words spilling out before he could stop them, “My mom used to say something similar about my dad…”

Meg looked at him, eyes wide and brimming with tears. She didn’t respond, and Eddie just stared back. Anger faded to sadness; remembering all the times he had stood between his parents as his father hurled beer cans at his mom, spewing accusations and insults as she cowered against the kitchen floor. Eddie had been too young to help his mother, but he refused to let Meg end up a part of the same cycle.

———

  The last time Eddie was this anxious, he was playing in the Hawkins Middle School talent show in front of the entire student body. He sat on a bench outside of the principal’s office, tapping his converse against the linoleum floor. He couldn’t hear Meg talking through the heavy wooden door, but he would occasionally catch the low grumble of Principals Higgins’ voice. She had been presenting their Hellfire Club proposal for 15 minutes now, assuring Eddie she could fly solo and leaving him in perpetual purgatory outside the office door. 

After 18 minutes (not that he was counting), the door groaned open, and Eddie’s slender body leapt upright from the bench as Meg slowly emerged stone-faced. 

“What happened?” Eddie whisper-screamed, falling into step with her as they exited into the deserted main hallway.

He pestered her with questions in the short walk to cafeteria, Meg silently leading the way with a straight face. With every second of silence, Eddie’s heart dropped further into his stomach. They had worked so hard on this, Meg had been so excited.

She swung the cafeteria door open, a cacophony of voices and laughter smacking them in the face as they weaved towards the table in the corner. Eddie stood behind Meg nervously as she approached the group, all of them immediately ceasing conversation to hear the verdict. 

“Well…” Meg stated, looking down at the folder in her hand. 

Eddie inhaled sharply, waiting for the hammer to fall.  

“…I hope you’re all free next Friday, because the inaugural meeting of the Hellfire Club is at 3pm!” She slammed the folder onto the table as the rest of the group cheered. 

Eddie exhaled the breath he was holding as Meg spun and threw her arms around his shoulders. He squeezed her middle, bending down to whisper into her ear.

“You did it.” 

Her hair smelled like strawberries, and the smile she returned when pulling out of the embrace was as warm as the summer sun.

Eddie glanced past Meg’s face at Adam seated at the table.

If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under. 

———

Now that it was an official club, Hellfire needed some advertisement. A sign-up sheet was promptly posted to the main bulletin board by the front office, and was just as quickly defaced. Scribbles of ‘losers’, ‘nerds’, and ‘freaks’ littered the lined sheet, a few doodles of the devil accompanied the monikers. They had assumed it would happen, knowing full well the general attitude towards D&D, so Meg had multiple copies on hand to replace any that were ruined. 

The first official meeting was held on the auditorium stage, Kate had pleaded with the drama instructor to let them use the space when it wasn’t being utilized for the theater club. It was overall much more of a conducive environment to play, plenty of room and the addition of miscellaneous props from old productions created a mystical ambiance. The first session was the start of a new campaign Meg had made, and so far it was brutal in the best way. The gameplay adrenaline paired with the new meeting spot had the group buzzing, bringing them all closer as friends. 

Winter passed through the state of Indiana like a freight train, pummeling it with snow so thick that Eddie swore the blisters on his hands from shoveling would be there for the rest of his life. The ground finally thawed in late March, leading into the final two months of his Freshman year. 

Hellfire was such a key factor in his life now, not only playing but also learning how to better run a campaign. He still hung out with Jeff and Gareth, recounting the events of that weeks club meeting to them every time. Eddie didn’t have to convince Jeff too much to help tutor Meg in math, the second he met her, he understood why Eddie was so enamored. They made a recurring bi-weekly date to study algebra, with Eddie sometimes tagging along just for fun. Both of his younger friends couldn’t wait to make it to high school, knowing that spots in Hellfire were waiting for them.

As the school year wound to a close, Eddie felt a shift in the group of people he’d come to call his friends. Adam and Rick were graduating, leaving not just the school but also Hellfire behind. Meg had offered an invitation to keep playing, but Rick had plans to travel out west for a bit, and Adam flat out refused, citing his need to put ‘childish things aside’ now that he was going to have an adult career. The statement had made Eddie bristle when he heard it, and he knew that Meg was upset as well. Her face remained neutral as she stared at Adam, but Eddie saw the hurt in her eyes. The cracks were forming, and Eddie could only hope it was just a matter of time before the dam broke.

The last day of school was almost as stifling as the first, and Eddie cringed as he felt a bead of sweat drip down the back of his neck. His hair was getting longer, almost out of the weird growing-out phase, and it was taking some getting used to. As he slammed his locker door shut for the final time until September, sound of running footsteps caught his attention. Meg was running down the hallway, pushing past the dozens of students clamoring to leave for the summer. She collided into Eddie at full force, wrapping him into the biggest bone crushing hug. Though caught off guard, his smile was so wide he thought his face might rip in two. Meg pulled back, thrusting a piece of paper into Eddie’s face.

“What is this?” He took a closer look, it was her final algebra grades. A solid C.

“Holy shit! You did it!” He handed the page back to her, eyes full of pride.

“No Eddie, you did it. You’re the one that got Jeff to help me. You’re the one that helped create Hellfire. I can’t thank you enough,” she stared at him, admiration and gratitude spilled from every part of her. 

“What about gym?” Eddie chuckled as they started to walk out to the parking lot.

Meg unlocked her car, “Oh, yeah, I have a week of summer school for that.”

He laughed as he slid into the passenger seat, “I still don’t understand…”

“I’m never going to run the mile, Eds, I refuse,” she started the ignition, pulling out of the lot to head to their spot by the lake. 

Adam and Rick’s graduation was that night, and Eddie had promised he’d come along for support, but for now he was content sitting beside Meg next to Lover’s Lake, talking about their big plans for next year; her last hurrah at Hawkins High, and the year she’d pass the Hellfire torch to Eddie.

[mapsofthelost]

Can You See Me?

You like to think of yourself as a nice person, but you get stressed, like we all do, and that gets worse when you’re hungry and tired and sometimes you say or do things that you wouldn’t if all was well in your world, or you had that moment to think before your mouth spoke.

That was how you were when you came out of a shop, looking on your phone at your work email even though it was well into the evening, and you nearly fell over a man who was sat in a corner of the doorway, blackened cardboard underneath him, a dozen layers of clothes on. He looks up at you, and his bright green eyes stand out against the outdoor tan and the ingrained dirt in the lines of his face.

“Did you not see me?” he said, and that is where another time you might have said sorry, no, apologised for nearly walking over him, perhaps given him some money or gone back into the shop for a sandwich. But this time you are tired and hungry and apprehensive about everything and you don’t think, just snap, “No, I didn’t see you, and you have no right to be there.”

By the time you get home, you regret this, and feel bad about saying it, but there’s nothing you can do about it, and by the time you’ve eaten you’ve mostly forgotten it.

The next day at work you’re searching through a stock photography site for an image to use in a newsletter, and the first hit on ‘man at desk’ is the same man, shaven and clean, sitting behind a white desk in a pale blue shirt and red tie, holding a mouse with one hand, and looking at his laptop, which doesn’t appear to be connected to anything. You have a horrible feeling that if you keep looking, even though it’s just a photo he will turn his head and look at you. The newsletter goes out with some clip-art of a desk, nothing else.

On the way home you’re sat on the train and pull your phone out to pass the journey and look busy so no one talks to you. But then you drop it on the floor, and as everyone else looks at you while pretending not to look at you, you scoop it up and shove it into a pocket, feeling all the journey as if it’s burning you. When you took it out and the lock screen lit up, there he was. Not aggressive or angry, just stood in a park, a little way away, staring at you. It’s a few hours until you dare look again, and when you do the lock-screen picture is your dog, muddy and grinning, just like it has been for a year.

Over the next week he appears in a crowd scene on a Netflix drama set in New York, in with other people on a charity fundraising poster, all stumbling across a finish line in t-shirts and shorts looking exhausted, the only one looking up at the camera is him. He’s modelling trousers in a Boden catalogue and eating fried chicken on a flyer posted through your door and he’s stood behind your friends in a photo one of them shares on Facebook post, and he walks past the window of a colleague who’s working from home and calling in to the office on Teams.

At the end of the week, you have hardly slept and you can’t face speaking to any of your friends. You scuttle out of the house for another few bottles of wine to get through the day, and as you turn a corner, there he is. Just standing there.

“Do you see me?” he says, in a very ordinary voice.

“I see you,” you reply. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

He nods and walks away, and you never see him again, on the street on in a picture or in a film, or anywhere but in your memory, and from that he cannot ever disappear.

[libidomechanica]

“But attentions in red brickworks cleft of lies; from whom I lorne”

A ballad sequence

               1

Alas, no belt and from the science     to shift, the gilded hook the long-needy Fame doth each     hissing when younger day;

lorn autumns and speak and been the     leaves of tender up each rope distant Poles have it back&forth     his failing Lips open’d

before. Be crowned, two rejoicing—     all that the boy, the same fornicator, an’ the stone, that     warp us of the same.

By stares and are substantial awe     we watch thews of plottery, his common be at rest.     Nourishment was fill it whimpers,

and squares, unless your soul’s     imagination and Moon; and love the midnight for even     in despite despised even

at there. But Destiny, others     will, from whom I shall before I decree longbow’s wit     than this rest. Which do in

ruin be, to eat the well. There     is not skill. Upon eyes are king to move to lift my wo,     come sort of fire-side them

at there was a—duke, Ay, ever     loving: o, but now betwixt. Art so there survive. Through the     dusky race. Back through oft

hath in my head, and for love in     the groves and thee, to each other’s will the black mark with the     earlier page. An echo

to a mansion; of a few,     not lost might be fed. But attentions in red brickwork’s cleft     of lies; from whom I lorne?

With these raspberries flow; soft a     lasting chains across before I derive honey of     postilion’s sleepe hold the banner

of reach. Blood red were a stormy     timely buds with her breathe why not along. Blank sadness,     will then the means defeated,

by the water spread around     some boy bringeth; stella, Starre of right, nor bent, nor time, thy     image of hand, when at

the bright;—to curb the martyrs awed,     as frankness, some deem it but will, gude faith doth one gen���ral     rules him, soft cheek they ride.

               2

Fair eyes are these effectually     returne, start up, it whimpers, to work my mind at last had     done such matter that sense

it makes all loss of Time, and greed,     I leaves his God, that rang with his volumes done my gushing     no such primal naked

is by the golden mystery     of my hands and thee, Cynara! And no more Yankees that     rather and then me! A

whisper of a hope that had robbed     us course renewed the temple, saying, now a twisted     of them stood bowed, wins, the

wild as a six weeks’ star. Picks from     times truculent—but neither session in marble pilings.     By self-example style

blue eggs of robins, but Strongbow     from a highway, and faith! Hungry formidable which was     spoil they gagged man, his other

settled for summer breathe high     heavy head: I had lived for the same, perhaps from leaning     the day; better, thus fault.

               3

Of mind, then this minute mock old in earth was small!     How one last word thou shalt hap to drown me—to declines. Boats when the flowers gather the     waning more the morning, hunting, but, life one bright-dark struggle ceased; he said the chase, so     thy believ’d the mire of some roughness, yet has here she laughed and squadrons of their liquid     bed: then kissed arms and with spirit

leaps with inconstantial awe we watch for a tent     at midday moan, and either hearing the vernal Intercourse I take the colored boys.     By selfe didst departed up in her follow in a chess-board—the Sexes’ in his past     its meet, and a good watch’d through to fame: now will pluck it from yonder our captive, yet with     claim on claim from hanging battle fell

on Locksley Hall! I am amazed he had not     say, when she remember sleepe again, his river, this vile age presents three? To run off     with rain short; for no apparent reason was rung by gladly? Verse, to which I should fight     her managed by day is not in nature have weighed, father the gusty trees. Which she passion     ev’ry fears. Drunk, kick up with our

claims of devilish doctrine of life, the lawn, the     betrayed, and took away my life; so that I shall know I will know they gagged in the boy     when the sun, and make ye blue. Thy oaths I quite Danish or Dutch with Moliere’s too painful     loving music, at whose state, and the kill’d his robbery had not those that I love     took him that my sister, as a six

weeks’ star. In every morn; an’ she has twa sparkling     roguish een. That take the windy jest had laboured him for the darkness, and, like     death. Of coursers also something into a very for him, her horses who have hard-     grained, as Senses all sorts of Hell mix with words can one another’s Eyes the moth, whoe’er it     shock a connoisseur; but she no saints,

by night, some eares, the o’er; and, gentle her love,     some guest, tis to the light be fulfil the blazon of the Passions lie; vertues opening     day, I bade my desert smiles away twould riders fresh sin, all things the yesterns as     one glass and smallpox, above that I always premising our father’s as a dream, and,     constructed woes await the indifference

certain play, such a child? And General roar of     the frosty darkness the twilight we slept in their age’s prudent—would laughter, plaiting     like a wisp: and keep their punishmen, and set a sculptured our Sophias are onward     nobleness to soul, the tale of hand; I bow’d to thinking about things she’s to me, yet has     been elsewhere, and scratch with all his function

and reconciling Pretty were shed on ocean’s     paradise: wheels may die a jewelled sky. I’ll staid with fancy light, and great world’s     biggest love’s use them not; their smells of church was hard a state, helpless, voice is sin, he that     is lord of war him, in some beauties of our deare throne, his rearing, scatter’d in me threading     thro’ the mellay, lord shall join in

sadness, who fare like turns; a very lap of     citations in request, shown, Not war: and eke my size again. May world, and always approves     and make that much thee to the river. So, little which, with suavity, or on the Slap-     dash regiment, and in the glory for things, through beauty’s wasted times—as ours we could     redressing, ev’ry woman’s oppression.

I was desolate actions find; in winter.     Nor Britain mourn it. The millions and she tale of Quixote? Rift the kitchen, and as     the bowl of custom. Will very straight rising line; sometimes stumbling flame within the Sheepe,     such sights she wholesome had not in my though it makes me for bestead, shuffled and now a     wander’d one, mething near, swear the rest.

And since darkness equal baseness tale to do     thy flame my plunge my selfe, but do you more the women dumb. Ages have shouting’s making     an inferior not? In birth, that slow? I love at large-moulders, love me, and rather     thou for text. When I am I, who have lost as a lion’s breath, only leave on dinners     should fail from thence honey fore her

hand insane distinguish in. And kept in the higher     night! We talk about at yon altar for love’s veins? To testify the rolling, true     woman. Yearning that went to be mingle;— why from me. And our Sophias are darted, all     that the pearly glistened. From far as polish’d horde, for a debt she e’er showers like a     city, out of her before that I

have speakes senses, leaven makes us most difficult     in a light or wrongs like home releasing, while they knees most fragrant made at rest. Alas,     how often hope, to my purpose life and Passionate heart goes black, browner horses     yelled; they dare says, greatly shadows of great carefull slow in judging me to the banner     of woman sits that which the breeding

light; they not now? On a hen to steals men’s wrong—     a smoke go up the Sheepe, iealouzie hemselves form deliver’d with numbers of thin disguise     broke promis’d I forget—an old tomb’s ruin: yonder head, and still a hearty Purpose     like a cliché. And caught of skill’d up—see Gazette. Passing sire and amidst their     roots again; but whence into a sigh

one distant mountain-river, which often a man’s,     and rolling, but sorrowing gnaw. Or gentleness, delight. Eyes. They woxe, and told me the     darkness and pale, no distinguish, in gazing on darkness clear sparkling arms. Said the     through them make him, he’d die of earth beneath her brows the color on the rose it was young:     the blue and found in pedigrees, a

touch my empty house, greek, set with what hour of six.     Panted finger moved in sights and ways, where na thy kin, sae high heavy! Good? Alas! A     maze where Max lives to keep pace; I willing roguish een. As the keen-edged flavour, continual     tears, like most destroys it; but their fee; but of my despair, observes push     And communion, and there was History.

               4

Love the byrds were na thy kin, sae     high, she cannons rattle, thought; with care. And there’s a Sphinx.     This: whate’er the wit, the

fresh ornaments for a dew or     deformed of tales t is the palace’ I. Say, with forgotten     except only so

formed of the long-needy Fame doth     euen in clubs found? And since erst, as she, whose home. Good luck to     the night, and the sigh one

distance beginners frame him back     a huge chain round; he spouse prepared by his ale-house up later.     Began to warm,

impassionate heat. Wear to thee,     Elizabeth and if we fail: she can’t dares be blest abode,     and, if dumber, listening!

In women sang between our neigh—     no dull leafe is ended for her smile could not left her birth     finds are out o’ h—ll.

               5

Pardon, the Master, in a cornice, that mourn it.     Or, if not for it; smiling words say, is the gray kings began himself into your child;     she was full of right in me with cold

dust another, you surety for it was white     hands of the abuse of virtue heavenly huntress of heaven—because is hardly     any air. Whose breast, robert Burns: can

feel, by its glass of the girl: and street, playing on     from her husband, falling. Grace an’ drum we’ll night, when on the stroke the doors, and Lilia     There wed, then them years would lie drowsing

thy Purpose runs, and be fair, at sight, till that I     owe to the Pleiads, rising lighted care na coming worse that thousand yet bubbled up     and reserve with bold pretence; and scarce

three or their lectures for rating behind to every     window cross there were hollow her! Your Mistress, but face puts on pants and women, so     remember;—but who, Pope says. Comes in.

But yet, we men a columned entry shone in the     shades ev’ry grace of incipient fire glance hung, till e’en let the water fade, and take     him. Perhaps from accident; it suffer’d—

Perish in. And inglorious, when I do     smell in all, am Master, the West, and beautiful seldom I ever prove none. All     o’er the puppet-shows she ought, as shee.

How many differ more apt to and fearing disprince:     look to mine eye or ears for your carpet, your over-fond: so, to publicke heed it     must parts of life which all have never

out o’ h—ll. Silence beacons. By glimmering     itself a mine, that the child! Ratified thing: my most beams that for a moment mercifully     cry, and dream. Others will not pine.

Cold as any other herd increasing, but is     flat all their own sad similitude, Shared, could not Cervantes, in the gallant cavalier     de la Ruse, this our peace, a Gothic

pile ’tis an old Harp I still, and not long     resplendid host innocence. Depart She remember;—but I will not get that nods and chuckle,     an’ I’ll have now long, supply. To

shelter too,—with our scorn to me: we fear, in a     cave eating, and small. Ye satyr; whence delicately been a colt—take, breast a love now     are children’s, know not harvest ripen,

her head’s universal law; and through awkwardly.     Of inconstant wing are drops of youth at every day till as Sighs stood as well-gotten     husting isn’t hard as Newcastle, and

beauty with a pink wave&we will be able too,     when all of thee still a children, warm in love us how I measure, if a Hungary     fail? In some sublimer word by

the ninety years I must be molten out, and be     you the Prince than gratified the night to learn to me like beasts its other an’ a’ should     be us, nor drown’d but track me down

on your mother crest; which it surpasseth, saue there’s     safety’ graft my wife she banquet and died; and yet loue you. In gentlemen we should     set between; but speak. Her hail, or else

that, it is because the savage dares, and laid us     as you. Thou shalt sit in his growth a vengeance sleep can no horseman, came in all     Compexions something else but with the heavy!

Or, if not for all the wine of God do go,     are always sought for ever has wealth, and injured the passion, yea, all commerce and     This wreath in it also spake the Braine.

               6

Man with a humdrum tete-a-tete.     Along tarry. Her cloud of my mother an’ mother gasping     for breast act abides

the same destruct me other’s cause,     that in my father’s death, no, no, my Deare, let us prompting:     not thy flame, take back-

ground, in Britain mourning Phoebus     prompt her wake no waters folding it shall the poor brides it,     sdeath! And the Sun upon

the duet, attuned sound. The two     rejoice o’ Pity ne’er a big box stores’ accoutremendous     if: if she can warm

in this turned sheep, with them not, he,     that was the fluster, they were for that made my dying mirth;     while pray’rs I try, o pious

reason … Whoever heard war-     musing mistress of Fitz- Fulke; the world’s fresh, fragrant, luscious     Speech the frosty feet, my

funny toil is not desire     or are taught would rather, I would see but kind which, with gossip,     scandal, and now and

ripen, her doating weft, where time     in darkness equal light as bare as your souls. For someone     left in my though t was

born kneel for which I have been—down     by your best and Max whimpers, and everywhere pure sanctified     except her false

usurper wan the fiery life     in the holy grow a home; where the morning; long since I     had absentees. An’ she

hid my love the world accoutremendous     if: if she remembers of this moment, so well;     strike: then from thee breed sweet

child, a great here undid this be     he,—or a daughter, had also was more soluble is     the household no dislike

to a bottlebrush tree or thee,—     that were seems I see her hand wings, all else receive, and beneath     huge charter of the

Spring flashing him. Because I     hate the shepe the soldier’s death was made. To be as brooms, and     state, and have scope for life.

               7

A sparkling rings, I have years,     is better thou art cold— yet Eloisa spreads out of my     desire in robes and

rolling organs lift thee, an image     street, whose Back is crookéd as the grass, to please; with a     stuffed animals, varnished

again and for love of ours shall,     so shall her footman put it keep my dream. So broken so     that never would enter,

part his banner. He looks how the     sky, and the roses—too be well both light be found their fox-     hunt o’er mounts of names in.

               8

Forfeits, arise again, on a     giant deck’d with our good in His great gift, upon them. Come,     list! Parted; stella, whose

cheek, and love, and blossoms of the     through her her long; the people’s lips that will beleeue me. The Mind     seem a nest. Beside them

freely in a royal right or     wrong for Kim. Or you? And Will, ’ and petty Ogress’, and bad!     He tore him calling of

them achieve the only leave me     deaf that still weary evening, and matrons, for loved more horns     that men do, the quiet.

               9

And he wasn’t talk you over, pledged to fear is used.     But nature keepe, iealouzie hemselves to fill with ooze, and he heart is what carefull     case pure immortal rain, her held most

men are were rather the thrice had naughty can guests,     or like these they streamless, and watch for Fortune to shines but find. Him Max, and beauty in     the drew one love at large enow to

draw this truth flower, or good education; and     Lord Pyrrho, too, that unexpecting things seem a heterogeneous mas to look at     was to lull epoch, that nothing issues

for a moments and ripples, swim throbbed us     much. Sweet black when we walk you once so long goodbye like disallows close room, nor hate:     sometimes away, leauing men some were the

rudest or generously a fortality—     its quantity is smooth’d all such a scorn at him ruin your valenting then sadly?     The future, because I had loved and

the feudal warrior ladyship: and I defac’d     its calm, to one and ears of sea. ’Tis no tide the nation, and thou hast too dear ideas,     all you ready.-Spangled marred and

the lie’ and the dreary walls. Tis to that will pluck     it up, and a song’s befall, and ev’n thou my cheek and black tongue! When Goethe’s safety in     a highest was vowel-keen and thy

blooms, and love O soul, and robed in absent love fleece     is depart down onion. That see my woman who love, that day will happen when the     jewelled sky. And ocean, color of

the Desert undecyphers soon dry the sunlight     time he fleece is remember love, despair? Into catch’d through, and sentiment; she will on     Locksley Hall! A green leave to pleasure,

mine be the park, agrees as hers! ’Twill pleas’d to Night     himself too clothing to high! Went hand from Gama’s dwarfish loins? Then shoulders of that me     like the least their best of his Soul was

gray: I have scope and emeralds to and some old     king a battle woods may see from for heaven finds the treason to be seen among we     gazed, but in the heart of pleasants! Sigh—

as the science seal’d false in Ruin, and move; such     the rest. Or who in sweet black e’e, yet in a hill his money burns inside the fly’s bastard     be lov’d no long been cry; for not,

when themselues oppression.—For I cleave touch or     some on me—I myself; and Juan, like a small, of art, and went in a cave eating a     dearnest eyes to wonder, yet deare and

come to ye, my lad, though the facts! The bowl you mighty     store; so thy train firm cloud of his you to a certain’d to the stroke alone striated     at all it reposed; when the sweep

in me wrought and cold, and what the corner when the     chills seeming, Juan’s your Valenting the sport I sought from but scalding earth and rougher voice     o’ gowd, while ech thin and drinks the night,

the world, I’d scorn of follies and loved more. And     in the murmur’d let not quite Englishment wrongs, and every longer than them glance hath made     by the knots in single with aching

unknown in the gray mare is ill with Bacchant buy,     still grows dumb—we stands; take back the foot or season, rather, you know I enuy you     In wordy feud, whatever I do!

               10

What is, up to a Shop of Toies     I discernable wallow common likings, not see the     might be forgive ourselves

but things, queens may well the thrown down     lips, should do much clear; by what both and if I could rather     dirty servance herself,

beside then he tugged rock, when there’s     to my mind is Stellas self mighty windings to his     lip: but tough, and slender,

but none were dance lies for some unseen     among the next, an eye could composed lets flowers, and     nowe then the blackening earth

the Field on the life: and he had     climbs still remains: ye rugged rocks! The Sun upon the bar,     in whose strangled with a

cry as if thou art thou may; take     not, there be and on my selfe didst proue. Yea, ’ answer. Strange!     According aisles, and sound,

since you lived for your ideograms,     how God will ruin end? That closely clings to mix with these     word. Love, your though nothing.

               11

There was the Spring its with little child shore, and     rising light, So I began, the son,— the stems. What throbbing vein-channels their heart can comes     the Sheepe, whose for being roguish een.

The hands of Time, and secondly, proceed; thirdly,     never saints, by night, though the blossom- fragrant at they rode, or forever; he at least     the boy, the hall flower heaven’s high-

prompting life—immortal love. Coming flood full of     wrecks; and already said, and serene creative, and a lustrous eft was ice, as gentle     moment; whose courtesy; and make

him. Since men are blue and sparkling roguish een.     Out of Soldiery behind a trace that moment flies the cobblestones of which never,     whisper, and tender breast. In case pure?

               12

When lights that I dreams which I held,     in the master fade, and warned ear; but you. Darling, an offering,     silvering an empty arms; but with what she none. Now     conscience and stop twitching speech, faine would be? Whisks it a dream     is done. Men. I, for thee.

               13

In grain with catapults, not the     tender up each bright it rises like a bird. Allow few     speciously withers, the

quiet air that kind which, shining     Orient, whenever love of perfumes, for all their smell     the windows. Then thou forsake

the patient saint: the patriot,     and not her names of the year. When a tear. We entering     in evening. With a

bunch of Venus have studding out;     sometimes under the shades of some see day, I bade my words     that was you did behold

spies, or some unworthiness among     piled all my flying stag swept and bowe how it than an     advertisement. Your vows,

or vow ye never yet—be happy     dwellers of the Eternal World spies, or on the trigger     at ease, then in pass

in space: if she like me, and winks     behind, to make you that behind here are them he bears before     that my side my mind.

               14

While as it else, at thy train but     get the right air My future will is the naked lovers     fall on the wonder tongues

thy shadows in a lassie dwellers     of old temple denied! To her pallid cheeks are left     here undid the place, he

replies too soon as, Julia, wedded     unto love is but thine, deck’d geese of Love, Hope, earth. New,     and let me, come! The milking-

maid, nor wish’d over them blind,     some more fond eyes so Love? And when we fell my gushing sweet     your ideograms, how am

I so fayre all is large     excitement of heaven looks at, in brief, by a red rocks we     guards you, you the song i’ve

been faith in it always premising     o’er against the cells, where she like the very rough heaven     fall, and fro, with

sanctuary alone. A wretch! And     on it, feature keep you swear it—sdeath! My beauty all allow     this Gama swamped in

their clever can spie; take me then     the hunt the embattle, that of the afternoon, like Strange.     All our day with us

to join, the drowned with smiling for     the nightly turn with gossip, scandal doth new strong to a     sight; but in which trotted

not to love. The time drawn from the     intent to thee! Me, my boy Then Gama swamped in that now     is remembering wind. The

rise again—Things Never Last Fortune     came night. But sings. Refusing that echo given back     rode him lives in their priming!

Or walk’d with flowers of     another of my mind, the sweet thief. We studious zeal and     bleeds from hidden rose gem-

like up before his sister     Lilia There was a notch in the stockade or taken as     the tomb, as sweet thief, when

the fate shall me, so unkind, I     embraced. To danced Albion’s vain promis’d I forget: the     tenderness—too hard quarters.

               15

Four Honour feels, for often     superstition of yours nor ear of dull beat her garden’s     gloomier still a round the nymphs which brought: she champaign till Morning     flame! Virtue slumber, lapt in one and everything, and     sweet no more basest not

acquaintance still it came the murmur’d     like a light allure the grand music, answering brain     to come as to lend to eternal sleeps in the river     bills and streaming—and make mistaken the king; they view? Not     Hobbinol, thy once move

as of deep emotion, pulse, at     they were master though the parent reason to dispute about     at there the mail, lets fall out of trumpets from the after     a rain around must tell a cheat, if Maud should once tis     by far their age: for her

whisper, ancient beneath his     carefully gave, which in each words though Love in our autumn’s sky,     and some preux Chevalier de la Ruse, within that I laughed     and there’s the kids had ta’en at Vice Lord’s daughter, yet alas,     yt is always will

drip and chuckle, or zeal, love the     blue eggs of robin’s broad arms could ne’er at each other joy     that thro’ all men love inevitable that closest to     stay when the sunny; we may sit upon days of the elite’     of cream: and now and

protection. Unto loved face; all     as the Snare I language woman as is finished on a     hill be transgression, and his plan, but brings more oft the bestow.     Who long the Light to be all in arms and faithful to     its impressive the name

not exactly traced thee, and queens,     bishops, knights, from the Troop a Sháhzemán, by Name and spoke     nor heart. Youth fades, knew not heart made a Lady’s self-disdains     all be new color on the roses—too bright as the big     kids had stol’n thy flowers

that quiver to flowe! Such is my     soul check these or praise; because, that would fail from weary, dreary     phantom glue my thought them to the God-born Child, with his     wild with a sweetly did she of wreck, or like a ruddy     shield—shocked, like a shoal; for

the degrading star! In men, she     might embower than in the sea, ere he doth bow to loosened     her smile those speechless daddy’s spoilt thou ride a Russian.     Come, Abelard and eke tender do you from vse of ninety     yeare we ourselves could

make the wood bluebells; the wind by     life, and the final berries and fro, with one with his worth     wind no gunners fresh ornament. Where to offend; the curse     the lot of men! He is my deep hae I luv’d; but in the     heavy-fruited trees! We

plan foursquares at each other     an’ mother’s being came a-pilferer. Tossing pulse that     just two cotton strip there but kind guest—thus doth kissing pulses     their praise of life in portrait may be molten the great     round her hailed heart of losing

your books—fool, have as I used     us so, to praise of her as deleterious. Nothing,     up to thee, looks at, in corners cried my father lie     I kissed their treason forbidden guests, my state the tide; the     poet the roses, roaring

them, that grace of high talk of     counsell can my flows their own backyard like the scarce defeated,     by adding orb decline. And threw him: only proved well     these words, of all the praised his rebel nature. Tea with     transgression tear fatal name!

               16

-Set; about like lame glimmers that     my soul, see with tempests bend; our fortune were she shown, a     vestal’s lot! In Vernet’s

ocean; the could not hear, no shoot,     or some scene if some couenants make the skies; clouds departees.     Till Nature wild Mahratta-

battled a tune his flake white     lambs bleat. A woman of education findeth not to     be founts of us. That

robe of quality. Has every     heath and Fashion; each be worthiness the child. With lower     lies perhaps from elm: one

lasting the show’ry bow, when rose     upright beauteous and here, weep me constitute a reader!     The fair like aught to cull

of folly’s fruit, as morning Walter     this sightless bide at rest, of hands and walking across     the twangling, you where I

went—and leaving go through grim mouth     and refectory, I weep each man who knew not help thee,     to do me more within,

nor uttermost, toasts live but right     is Day. Best tongue, to have her father’d’ as summer isles shouted;     they did; but ours be

so pale? Patient blisse fit for a     fine sad memory they have astronomy, but whole and     Compounds doth makes the works

on me. In sad sister, and swell—     thou shall ever meet. Of liars between a colt—take, breake;     loue is my fancys errour

breath; but, till their crest; or wealth,     and feeble in mine eyes, feed’st creature, our love O soul, and     insane distance beacons.

               17

I standards of their feet to thee.     And then his mouths of pallid cheeks, or like a silver breathe     himself and shining toward Love, for thee. My Muse, my low down     it gazeth; a man came, and song, your memories, spacious     poisoned bait. Nor blam’d for

my clasp’d my hand once moves, for summer     as if my years which the daylight have both seem’d no less     kind, and keep watching sweetly lambent wilful-slow, towards shadows!     He yield, must be; for the Touch was mov’d, oh Thou ailest     hear that smells of time’s or

tell these for we will not how, but     a dream he was told; and I’ve often must take refuge there,     a naked Leda with itself. You have tried by some     reflected. For true Love speak, while his judgments early straightness     call’d the park: strangers

disembark often brought to thy best!     To whom groan as though young Love in secret for a reminiscence.     Your faces, sigh— as the shadows doth Love spent its     little; but with the green: and Walter now-a-days is dear,     the talk almost lilies

of lofty mount them down: it is     told; and cold reverence, he comes in ecstasy! And make     for a whim. And if we missed their vigils pale aspects, though     brows as piety could make along a number one the     wainscot mouse, and love her.

For Right—but neither mother’s person,     grace, and wanne he was that sport I set the setting of     a year waxed very Siria of the sureness the     exhausted light’s auto reply to be taught by the knots held     out around her up and

darts. Nor bent, nor time to the sweet     emotion keep: the slope, the lips in his gad-fly brushed frosty     Night, yea, sweet is overflow. To do it plus the Druid     oak stood at the world is sin, yet she lay beside the     parliament of my Soul

of midnight’s auto reply to     the sea as it is because thee, ’ and prone she, chaste queens may     come, I country dance in the maid the pages with others     of flowers, and the old God open Door. Blank and the worse     that when they rang on the

hair about to shadow of thee;     fruits vnfit. Letting of the auspices of the abused:     attorneys-generate brain to me like bright clasp one another’s     at home, gleaning departing gold about? No part, which     brought against the core o’

the middle of reach’d the good-bye.     Like strange and smile a hard- set smile can break your shame o’t,     but Fate some on Psyche’s colours and Oblivion of     Dream Myself laid us as the gray bare fingers still it     not grist. I all respected

wrongs of mutual colour     rose than his haughty stores of sunrise, her lady-clad; which     know: then I am buriest of these effeminate     villeggiatura will be wroth, life at it shoulders into     darkly on the roses—

too be wreak’d on sinfully     quivering jealous in a rosy silk, that pray’rs dependant     Phoebus sinks behind him, in saying through very day to     talk almost happy night or wrong. Someone left your beautiful     creative, a teeming,

and yet, we call. The old choral     wall: others, O my fruit? While yet to the loves of     eternity, insistinguish’d dove; in the desert smile could     not returns to pleasures, of deede, ready to burst in     Claymore and horses’ heels.

               18

It is snowing peach that which I     should a sevenfold stormy times stumbling worthy remote     and me, the dead, for am

I not, the weeds of herself,     by the sleep a king, sense has everlasting child upon     cloud, before her full beat

my soul! In that fills thy pains: and     Walter hair, collarlessly— but what calm patriot, and     fairer taken in clubs

no more. Truest from the comes home.     Love is like the village, and come into it—that gentleness     to such efforts stile.

Within thee. For the dying, Oh.     A sparkling roguish een. Your weekends are taught; I mournful     gloomier station,

when the works or a wound a scarf,     windows in the green Chinese latest rival, can they grope     among hills, then conscience

certes done. Could see but sometimes     away. Someone left to something lists were also were all     in an hour, as truth! Turn

the authentic mother; which I     know the vanquish’d love faithful king the moorland dinner; preserve     it, all around: the

might melts in a handmaid we walk     you overlooks and arms outstretch auaile whom self-substantial     awe we watching, up

to a Shrines! The key to every     day till his host, althought, I know causes of Death is strong     divine in one, the fire.

               19

As Sappho fragrant a long goodbye     like their artillery at they conquer, with an     eraser’s softer clime had

given back through that a wander     shrines all waies to keep their golden scales; but not to deplore,     and scratch without love enjoys

it; but leave me deem it but     lov’d! And Lover’s Language wholly miscarries from sprays of     likeness like an inspires,

the ends, in exception taught wings     that doth sleep, my lay soar high spirits throng’d, nor drown his tenants,     wife or maiden moon

which I hardly any air. Like     Caractacus in absence the vision holds out of these     respondent a hero

lies beneath his Grace shining to     bear, a path the purple twilight be vices which of hands     till I struck up bad

habitual fastidiousness. Came     night, all my words thought: soothe young: the patrician polish air     could spring? But heavy

with flower to mother: strong it—     ’tis dear, a dark lintel— all the monastic than is through     the strove their days to do

me more than that played upon her     wake to duct tape there him, in sweet must, and fill it not forests,     and then come in the

while. Of your days, her fame; before     these her perfect shades of love. Who spin a yarn about its     not I, but love her. Away

from thee to moan and rolls tight     and queen for me by moonlight; i’ll never, now herself, by     those good, and against his

guard more than Time has twa sparkling     rolled heaved together— that I was to a bottle or     tongue’s a youth descended,

bizarrely wherein campeth,     spreading strife within the rabid, and with snow. Slumber-drunk     an Arab arch of lace

at his last year’s in my e’e; lang,     lang has Joy been prov’d her hands before her niche, nigh over.     Grand, mace, and satisfy

my soul, and beauty’s law of a     fly; on which way to its brothers’ beds’ revenues of gold:     nimrods, where. Our played upon

his best, our deare to be wisest     for a heartbroken so that echo to thee: thou should     grace man,—o aye my woes.

               20

Doubtful dream thou—and friend, a siren     song, resoldered in jest: for posted onto the     morning though youngest look

one this vile age have a hook on     the sport, and ears; take my hearts were I abide, into a     river. To sweet, she might

leaves are wrong it—’tis death weight, and     Lover settled square were flames the bang’d me, if ye gie a     woman is the murm’ring

alone—the last when my mind; and     on the fresh springs downhill at last to seek the park, attracts     each folded flowre: and

not abate, like Phœbus thus: On Thursday     this sonned sheep, without end prolong’d; nor letter.     Delicate Arab in the

rabid, and robed the great compliant     body. He yield, who love’s going heart shall together—     that I have express. When

storm of galloped away. How many     difference delightful lily as fair in me with pleasure,     would: and his Divine

perfect music, at whose soul check     thee to break no squares by man’s fame: with Stellas self my hand     in the stake a ghosts,

rejoicing. Myself; and many love     of body into closer that it weep. Has ever light     of my pray, we’ll go, and

to-day with the yellow gold choral     wall: others, the uttered in Dust, nor caught with that with     us, somewhat lover.

               21

And buds did an Evil Cloud rain Sorrow spear’d—a     loss of her hate the way when its throats when we saw of passion, who is my fashion. High     heavy! And absinthe art of Love speakes

sense has twa sparkling rocks. Wo to me; as love     to a bottlebrush tree in an image of shamed the comes, but the House individual     with tares, wherein I saw the

Vision grow, like a girl, this wrecks; and her hand, when,     even ghostly bales; heard was bent, that I deem’d too cruellest, animals are puppets pull     it. Come they pleases of all that long

to thee, ’ and the distance in their glories, like I     love as of dearths, or set, five been delight we will make your hands repelling for joy that     the ship is seen their skins; they talked, as

Spain’s lady. My hand and like the sleeker finger     on till I shrieked the noble motions every noon: but it into shadows. There happy     mother, that you and I have to the

old the Lady Adeline his mother’s fiery     Sirius alters hue, both with a humble, low-brow’d that stung. Before whom remorseful     Cyril met us. Each rose can speak.

               22

Your censure; Silia does Love speak.     He yields, and that their long on her pass’d for cash. In the science,     moving across the

owl his various orient     in a soldiers may have I not like to appear as oak     from broad as the should Nature

for a colt—take, the fates, and,     falling of which she louers pitie loue should be unashamed, I     have written—wash it out

so much to sing up to thee! I     owe to the grossness of mortal on the with my desire     shall beautiful thing

moving farther I bow’d to move?     The last which the mark, then do mine hert doth shall I ween: and     they rode; there’s no more;

such was she ought; but, for his the     puppet-shows of the night, more sound upon eyes her husband     from the scanty but red-

faced war has rods of friend in thine     ear, the bearing lay it change. For she-society itself,     a broken without

beauty might consecrate weaves on     animals are little thing should afford; but each plaine; take     me tender churl, makes me

not, when asleep. Not enough. Thou     shall such a shield, which those tear’s bitter love of both and galloped     down from the rest, ended,

because such-wise she shovel     is, much sense. And there at leisure. And smile, Love, while budding     roguish een. Like mistress

melt from a hand in the veil. Whisper,     and loose our camp: we sevenfold stormy stately mountains,     like a noonday night,

time and draws the basest valleys.     To a chair, thy memory refresh spring gold or     silvering void left her Grace

she shoulders into barred. Navel,     stomach, I know things who laughs at you wilt thus Lord Henry     and a tongue wag the milking-

maid, nor passion; and a light?     Meets the King roared make my rurall music, felt the old warrior     from the ladies sing

by the kids make me falling, t     will not be gainers such women: howsoe’er it was olden     jewell’d mass of the God-

born thine own bud buriest though I     only a breed upon her, and half undo it. A man     cometh, as it shake some

sylph-like showers. Someone like a     brand next into a planisphere, and strange girl: and station,     lest that was gold, and barred.

               23

Darling bright to guess of the Mind,     we have held out of joint: science that great moral taught us     little wood where the

fallow the third night, which Luna     felt, that jewell’d in stately weak. In thy heart of the sea     what will, see how all such

was rich banker’s soft is Silia!     Bottom of your memorial tilts, and in the west; he     did flowers gathered by

voice been they shallowed: and yet,     alas, the strove that pipe on her sights and harps she thought: such     a sorrow vsing mistress,

and die? So thought feet to look to     mix with his banner of her face, famous in a moment’s     mouth of English air could

not indifferences at e’en,     which did not pressed. Would not reproue, and caught of two men, she must     behold the displeasures

out half woman take in Vernet’s     oceans roll. By taking additionally desire     to seal the noontide of

grief I lie, devotion find, seems     a great princess, some plant my bliss if but for the shadow     of the grange, the promise,

and the piebald miscellany,     man,—o aye my wife is drye and I am drumming up     some say loud is our father

these very self-example     lungs, that is time of brow, doth part affections burnish’d dove;     if though open doth Love

is but her eyes. With thy love and     Favour or a victor by,—that there!—My Sandy brak a     piece of them stood up, straight

to free burgess of me; well, false     women’s pleasure says. The man of the stript as beauteous death     that climb out. Sleepy pilots

of granite made quiet air     on our missive weight that behind her flowers O miracles ��   perhaps from my God!

               24

One human his carry into     the luster of Joy—to Forty of your round some Irish     absentees. A loves, and

past: and now there his light wrapped in     jest, but burn to lightly pray, knees most of birds between her     road that doth make his held

out the Hall and put it be taken     out, my heart and wondered, wins, thou have scope and plumed     we are one. Let my heart

to me, then came mended from head     and ever-change and stumped the Nation’? I gave myself through     the unnamed a dreamt of,

unto island I are not then?     To lovest these her forehead of the fools may his little     merit to virtue, he

in haste! Desire keep dancing     o’er then would compose heart in tear falls, long the west. And in     this Morning; long since Reasons’

quality. My Sandy O.     Her song the night air on our barometer: let radicals     its own backyard like

Daphne she sat, and the boy brings     of Sir Peter Lely, where none distracted to the boy     on the fulness of

Albany. In a gracious Speech, faine     would not be gain’d to thine angrily: What Folly, Jámi,     in the woods. Did it end?

Along the fallow too, in whose     Attributes thine eyes the convey its great world wanton in     a nick in our ain sweet

of sad experience that crossed     me; and smiled, which I shouldering her the shy touch’d on     poisonous flow; an’ she has

twa sparkled in sight painfully     on thy thighs stood embossed me to her life. All the sun upon     misprision, yea, sweet

lady-sister Lilia There     wild pulsation with his tomb. And with slaughter, so let thy     mamie, shall growing course

renewed the bright is this children,     warm my tremble to be pilots casting that shall cease. Art     so unkind at success.

               25

These scent. The veil. And why is it     to me wrong, darkens ev’ry flowers, and whisp’ring gush’d the     strong divine; where shall we

are cut out each may breath? By wealth,     let it seems they had breathed outward side, O sweets, but a smiles     to mee: no, no, no, no,

my Deare: but, I fear on trains. As     out of some party to teach tree in hands before the pass     away from the song she

lay them, and in despite desire     to Frankenstein! To watcher by despair, observantes     smile could bringeth; stella,

while echo, and red, delightsome     directed, enterchance striated at an unshed the     bowl of cream: and thou dost

controlling over his changed, for     her scorne. And starlight there behind. Who are wears, tis pity     that can Chloe want? Into

eternal evening, t will     is the legal bully, he shows more than this bruisèd heart its     arms gainst these for a hungry

sinner! Catch and bright the moonlight     not that you offer to under mountains out; for the     great; the fiery race.

               26

Waiting sways, would but keeps me from     the Westernight, breast, full in me doth their glitter. ’Tis with     the door, no more, in case

mercy should not dwells; could not begins     to combat for harm, so he soldier? Perhaps from Heav’n     seize it, in thee with one

do overcharge. And round, from their     joy, and now therefore I derive honey, and there she lies,     a wretch! Until the Work,

yet in the through our claim; in years     would not man, and a sweatshirt with her cell sad Eloise?     Now no joy but little

which make a Helen. That vnkind to     foot, of life’s unendings that fills their state throne, nor moving     across the Type of the

maiden from the directed,     enterchant coronet. Nor the gay world is held most files of     white virginity of

those she divine in one, there was     they models of frolics, an off with simp’ring teares did     fly that she made aware.

               27

Puts on pants he took there the sky!     And through heroes. Her two keeps me from whom my despaire, honord     by his heart as silent as to every splinters, and     his anthem, What Folly, Jámi, weariness of traitors     in the circles holding

his estate that nods and bower,     tho’ the last, every day. As more soluble is wae, and     I sigh behind broke me to grant be serious; whistle     back-ground me like a sunbeam found, since there’s safety’ grafted     in the trees, wherein

a livelong his brush tree, while     new emotions, washen clean as inconstant shade and sea     and New York city when fate of the Muse a forests. Took     the warl’ asklent, so thought, time would mourn the sweet time, and her     hair, collarless ocean

and Morning hurt that shin’st thy heart     in the Winter and he rode thee! Sweet Adeline     Amundeville and tell nought in the races; and young, and drink     my friend in the Rain to Mire. And one discuss’d the spher     e d course thee more than

the fashion decks hers; and unmarked,     his other side of passion, and feels, and spacious chronicle     of rainbows of a female heavens, and scandal shaped     by the bark window he is in look pierces them at the     paths of that you kiss the

blacke but to spells did but not that     were express’d in a poplar groveliness? Sat a Lover     solitude! Now, keep my drooping t’ have scope for life     eternity, insistinguish. Had give them revealed, by     adding on to bestow.

Waiting on my Mother’s arm, and     second toe a little groves and I myself to stray in     spirits not mad with my wrongs and there rough the sky full grow     to the toy at most, I should once the story rip of taste,     critiqu’d your memory.

But come in eternal evening     by taking with me through thine articles remain, here’s     the bark was pale mard, which no doubts the love fill’d his judgment     continues cold, and pious remnant of Love to right     across our feelings ebb

and silent grows the hunter;     womankind. Thou feeble in thee. Oft intent sane curse my     innocent, and yet my hearts filled with frankness, some might blue and     mein; our habit—there was no shoes, and laugh me down. Shall my     name, Bannockburn, Passchendaele,

Babi Yar, Vietnam.     About you with musket shattered all: since I loue that my     side, O sweete is, see with such ends in making. I still, and     yet, wee dochter, because silk is what an everywhere: something     together, struck out

among we gaze o’ercoming up.     That can tell me why the charmer since my though nothing, I     gied my bride. An’ thy part purchased choicest wines; though t was     his wish undone,—and the sex a large offering, so well, we     meet a mansion to disputes,

disprincely name not, for,     the muzzle beneath the pale ghosts of Marlborough the shown,     a vestal shrines are made the first them reveal, to trip a     tigress would gae mad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come nae unless     I know, well, my Company’s

a cheat. See that thou art not     that when flies. Is new, and cried. Like tyrannic power thoughts     that thou, whose breed a loathing to sage mind an Angel whom     remorseful Cyril’s counsellors, ’ as Solomon has said, curse     true mind no one’s going

hung. Flushed bats, blind again so compete     in my brow Beautiful things of Spring its with the     purple moorland die of nature weak one’s babe, was pale-ey’d     virgins hymeneals sing, I shed divide the gaping an     inspires, long single cord,

but from times: leaf, zipper, sparrow,     like aught her—she’d rather loving farther, you beckon from     the boy, the neither seemed through, instead. Tho’ many a     sniggering herbs in the people whom the dream I glance was awful     LOVELINESS, wouldst

bear the blossoms of men: men, some     sylph-like stranger face neither rites the hurt is that take a     wash, would dedicated much excess, than mortal love. But     last, Ida’s answered I, for the golden throng, darkening of     th’ all-beauteous Mind.

               28

Those who travel’d in the muskets     at her Garment at they calls, and the Clay of their secret     as the kitchen light and

make alone can tell a lovest     me? Why the things who laugh to seal thy glorious, and Moon     are wisdom lingers doesn’t

cut it. And count that along tried     to college turn that it in state! And liuing dying Locke, as     many house past which nature

keep a kind of their hearts doth     make, that lifts its own. A jest at Vice Lord’s black me liked it     or not dash’d in sleeker

find the broke they wait, ’ he said, or     say with claw&rock, glimmering skies: nor doth harbour and struck     up a riot, belong

horse. What is her image, wrought doth     not long Devotion’s paradise. And by time of doubts as     her yoke to fall; soone ascends

th’ unwilling teares     hungry sinners that lower salesman i’m on the faster     now, when the shade. Strike off

from right half: leave to wag through them     all—this Gama turned at night. Thus the waters stretched for a     rain is sworn page redacted,

enterchanced from Heav’n I     lose their lectures for you to dreamt of, unto the herdsmen     cry; for ever! Little

let her chief fear himself in his     mouth and if we fail, and some to master in thumb and shine     the blooming hoofs ring, who

seek in love her husband, like Flatterie?     Wheels fly; I hid my leads too much, no more appetite     forlornest lump of clay,

with weakness is bliss aboon, man,     till I though her within it, features for thus far from the     eye is fragile. In winter,

each here alone ship is seek     their rents. Be waiting the suns from the logic of the graceful     necks, white hands a

melody there. With golden keys. Horns     and keep me concentral blue; far alone could be. He had     forget what was building

and again, confesse thee, and quiet,     when rising on a child; she flies, but she went, leauing him     that hath thanks, do pay for

the conjunction clung the sunlight,     some the sun, as an AEolian harp, within me every private     life and to enter.

               29

And it meritorious trees     were it conceals. And the sofa, dozed, snored. A cave eating     in vain; like thistle, whirrs sudden silence pursue, still,     she force of hands that have

all bath’d in them, O no, but forms     of the little, youth and his Rein tow’rd me, enchain! Why dost     thou go wi’ me, sound. Of life than evening, I thoughts of     beautiful face. Upon the

recognise? She bids her her tongue     so stand upon the lawn, an unthrift in his grave as of     old tempt even ghost since, I touch the fire is blood that French     cocked-hat one desire

in his little book, had wound a     scarf, window; riding, is gone; the side and passing, and some     unseen hands from Beauties shine? I embraced among the very     splinters was thy soul!

               30

With Absence vaile, I lose no more!     That stand stuttering about then? The floor. Shall see us     friend! ’ Ye comes the purpose

set in a nook apartment cooling     arms. And Wordsworth’s modern nation, was desolate action     clung the Light than punished

on the field with the carnal     pardon, oh, list! Out in the silence found then her beauty’s     fabled queen for a little

her head. Cold, and the moonlight,     shatter’d in silken net and I read the dickey—than twelve     of perfect shade, glitter

burnished and let thy poor, worthy     either eyes woo as mine. I craved stronger lockt in her wrong,     and debt, and weak, and he

had sent like Write it! Through the Sea     of this I prognosticate: the world forgot. Distinguish     een. Of the murderer

of the moment, with quiet, to     trip a tigression tears each other side: she cannons rattle,     and thus conditionally

drunk, kick up with God’s, his chin,     a coat troop came riding, is gone, and liuing dying in the     wanton lapwing gets himself

for word brings my passion; and     Knowledge o’ his rapier braid. Then combing out here, and     to her voice, as the fluster

fall. For her, and later. Why     should from the last’s a miracle of hand; I bow’d to     These words enough to die.

               31

When from honest man’s heart, his hive.     And clothes to leaue there he regretted stores’ account the same,     the Melton jacket for

Refuge, and we are there is no     others, I seemed to be told! Someone lives the drown’d, which flowers     and been delightful

land that each me at noble scions     will. Much spirit leaps with smooth muskets at home. But earnest     of the rest, and his toes,

I know it, to keep your prowde within     the curb, you thine eyes were seem’d, and laughed and I’ll come to     ye, my lad. To guide and

be fall. These hallucination     go and upon her cause it only to stone is reckon’d,     and the twice as many

time may present wealth or pleasing     papers echoes—like as many a night her man, and loved     philosophy and after

young captain’s one will be wroth,     life at its length to thy sleep. In the races; where in the     days, robert Burns: can feel,

by its glass the mellay, lord of     Self, and which flowers blank sadness of Britain’s prudes form.     Which so sound grows in thumb

and both light clashed is. Keep us     child in my Ear till their heads felt himself and Juan, like a     shop called Beauty, for all

the silence so low? Coming at     and Self-esteem and intelligence, now banisht art; but     to behold no doubt not

Wit, the hallowed: and did melt from     its pinnacle to all grows. Mintage them to answer’d; oh     Fount of my dears stillness;

in the bearing got it, else that     still it when we prove a whole oceans of this is streight to     fetch from his voice, as I

used upon the earlier had     been his side of great impress to and flying over a     wrinkled piece of the Westerns

as old Sir Ralph himself had     climbed cherish on the observantes, if only a cut,     a half—inch space: if she

known, what is the dewy downstairs,     which buys your Feet like most in youth and settles in the     distracted Lover, separating

weft, where there I must go     virtue, with knobs and best of the Pole. Then, commemorate,     should by two Eyes be blind.

               32

In by mission. This Morning; I     have loved so deep in your worth gives attack, its last of sun     upon the race? It grown humble; in this, what it close, that     cruel be? Suspicion quench’d like the nations find, to wash thee     in heat, if from the crescent

of battle-flags were I am     but Maud were two wander with missing in ghastly night,     which state, majestically drunk, kick up. The noble language:     we retort thy man had no disclose; so thought the sky! And     the bugle-horn. And seemed

to horses. A park is purchased     choice with gallant cavaliers, which even as a Czar; and     atheism and all it repose, when on and the doomed     and told her than dress for coquettish deceit, a gilded     Squire West, among weeds o’er

it awkward the grace inuent: my     very Siria of the Follow, thieves in the sandy tracts,     and, composition night had labour and smoothing convey’d,     and forget’st so long resign, asks no firm cloud break her Lip.     Winds doth bow to pass like

a story attests that are looks     went. Bear; and only learness, issue: let naebody see,     saw them: but is his: it will cruell might knock it up, it whimpers,     then kissed the earlier than a poppy from one point:     not set. ’St go hence, he

replied and let me many, the     pictures, and all the great; but I have left ear for more than     were they breath, but he’s a youth to me a blow! And broken     stays, as you with my part in life of losing isn’t have rest.     From the little hoard of

God, I turn with the session. But     the sin and cold, nor stumbling I put on Nina Simone     singing up. Least of your helmets sprang the warrior ladyship:     and the think of Rhenish. Or, if it selfe on the fire.     The tender and impression

in old snowshoe, toys in look—     I leaves in that she north, and despair, an idle boys like     the sun, a goal of the shovel to myself laid with feet     slippings; they are very love’s doctrine—in another     an’ a’ should have astronomy,

but in the rosemary     we leaves my reason was Juan stockade or take, and, if it     disdain—do all ten finds th’ unguarded Barons     heavenward and left behind a trace unworthier, told that crossed     my bed, in a’ thy pity

mov’d, oh Thou feeble Hope could     rather should, in fault? Oh Thou hast brought, and in haste! On Cupids     knot to the Master, daughter: now should a silken     masquerade, and sky do melt from the named: the sweet no unerring     sweeps throng’d with envy

I do confest with unwounded     early hour; though her Son in her! Sat a Lover, separating     wash of air, that in thy shadow lost her eyes diffus’d     a recherche, welcome home for me then he felt my heart     in the few who were

advantagenet, good and enemy     to resign, asks no firm on the Soul regains its     pedestal, all else that immortals groan as in the Future     freely in his game: then the crossing whiles, glance, hand in arms     and peace, masked Walter, part

my part in life, some gentle hand     on its arms, but Fate so envious night. Stood bowed, with might     melts in absent love, that breathe highwayman came tumbling, I     shed in the houses compos’d of postilion’s brow; an’ she     hath in my woman, taut,

elderly, carefull choir     when you’ve told; and all the moon, when all many a line my     head my bundless one with hurricane tape, like a rocket,     where to scullery, and all of saint in us, where perplexed     and birdless ocean,

colored boy stars! But also suit     then first bones, bones of boys are but rank with gossip, scandal     doth Love to granted types of mirth an echo given for     some thought from beneath them! Scorn em all-in-all, when the moon,     yet received the woman.

               33

Has tantalized me half-said. And     past: an exquisite small! Yet what is a handmaid, everything.     Which at the blossoming,

because I can’t forgives here,     and look’d round, from Gama’s dwarfish loins? Where Truth and rolling     fine,—an amber-melodie.

               34

Thy living along their name day.     Tis nonsense has it to haunt the frost destroy’d the coming     upon whom pale ivy

creeping of a space, both without     painting dance from the can’t exactly traces, and descry     tears still, and in thy belied

in the tinkling words, if this     mine eye or ears for all the sward was just gath’ring in July—     something in the doom

and dies, close on me; the charter     of culture for one she, as the figure in heaven mix     forever; he at least,

where be, whose quiet cruising us,     a blank and round his last war the pages with delights.     Stood for the way back through

cheek and caught through thin the sudden,     to the yellow shall be able to such gloomy press me     from out they talker puts

all rapt in the sea;—what kind which     Luna felt, what the sex, to my hap more perplex—variety     of lip, and his

Eyelash is my sides, know it, and     we stand on its other breaking square, street. As on your eyes     be well thro’ thee, Elizabeth

and the might broke of Dash,     who ought, a tomb for the way to its food servile to scared     by the world that much. And

the dang me, an’ she hath Echo     tired; flirtations, like an iron-clanging of white in     his heart such the bottom,

bleaching down through the dryness of     the covered all: but our care. Then for most rich and wife, when     took away to withstand?

With her,-provokes revenging claims,     yet from thee, an’ she sandy tracts, and thought in every captain’s     lady-flowers of

time—or in corner of words, if     we stole into catch a pun or clime, half-legend credible.     Sometimes to wondering

hate. Nor teares hungry     formidable wounds in singing huge tree, whose call’d or with my     braunch they tempts and death and

beautie stand the rest. The landward shall     gie the flying terms, but now and this era, reaping slow     at his pide weeds, or war.

               35

And when noon; and than the slight, the     black to thee, fifty shoulders in their priming! The dying     gales did but keep us

child half my hand insane distance     liked to pretence and gied it mutual hate the story     are glad the only so

are need to quote, the kindly to     think it quite unnatural? Yet asleep like an iron     age, no sun, that better

take comforts stile to such ends, by     gentle Spaniard was gray: I haven’t bear. Some bore in that     sweet old passion burns; and

Knowledge they hate and shine, while Strongbow     wild shore with Bacchant buy, still outran the far as human     frown? Or on the square.

               36

The veiled her. Augustus Fitz-Fulke;     there frozen into her, the very often, where I my     head to his, and fingertips,

the village, and thee, when ye     come at one dark. Weeping, and saints with mutual colours     true, I might, flash throbb’d me

overgrown a screen of season     bland, young till I could scarce could stands victory’s wings, and rather     meet last not for Refuge,

and the wine; and one thieves in     the quiet. Pulse, at the heart-quake off from its darkened all     the back-stile, a nurse of

God,. Thy sovranty, recreated;     till at their natures form. How often superstition,     frozen in praying. These

lips like is harmonies of time’s     hate, be happy, for honest had seen the capriciousness     of men’s declined, while your

cold dust and lovely hand, and bounded     in love O soul, and sip her poniard, had not shake in     another of Earth should

haue made, maie, the full: we can this     contract of all things shaken with foreign artists all alone     increase, then all for

what sunny lands of stone implement.     Whose party, to expected wrong’d my dear, no shoes, and     now and drop of urine?

For honey-meal: and let then? About     his scythe annals of the days are the land, where one sacred     bed, not touch for the

third nightdress, flaming farmers, who     have plenty: so let it leaps with simp’ring steep. Quiet, when     I was the art to mee:

no, no, my Deare, let bee. This may     his last dances on all who have motion clung to, when I     studying galleries,

Ah! Auguste for thy heart I felt     there was shed upon Impossibility poised at love     me things of griefe more clear;

tlot-tlot, in public strife, the faire     Mother-Age! Love and settled die. If this my love my dear,     that I ought, canst touched up

from Gama’s dwarfish loins? Loose     vnchastity retires, where not to lovest meant the guy. Was     gravity; he risen. One

day, will not worthy prove a whole     and leaps in among a strong to your daughter, to veil her     look as ye were round there

rose it was the while. Not war: lest     one, the loved the book and thus man-girdled hear sighs most—and     with inconstant Poles have

knows to kiss and bade him lives in     the moon, draw near. Later I measure mine, each morning paper     tree, and voluntary

pain! In all my foot we dote     on, why, then body’s work as her head. Instead of his your     spright things at part; venus

is the while heard the ever season,     rather lives in his tutor as things pour tears as the     leaves behind a traces.

               37

Love, I lose thy feels may weed her.     Shown how all effectually returning by the violets     should haue all her devotes

the best a colour soul, the sweeps     and there is blind will be worthless fleeces newly come, with     long for Kim. Since I loue

should I spur, thou must averted     eye—the right, over Endymion’s roaring light, here, for her     throne of my ruby ring,

Here Comes thee, and ungrateful Puss’,     and in death withall a sad, that shall pass before and her     sight; the well-known me is

fired the generate brains and     fit to human his through the cover, floats an heir. Yea, sweetly     did to Cyrus after

shall grow, lintels, the grace of     that wild Mahratta-battle fell into my fashion. Stretch     my empty arms; it glides

away,&blasted, and the blade glanced,     I find what doth lurk and meantime the discourse thee on this     a malformation minted

surface but kinda like yourselves     but he’s a Sphinx. The circle, the wainscot mouse, dumbe thing     and greet that renewed the

Braine. Blood red were also dull;     profession. The ringing by a foreign slipslop now are my     heart still grows within what

that had sent cast to perish’d; sweet     to show! Of her perfect Beauty, for the place, and say hiss     hence, with a dead despair.

               38

Sure, as a good humour of the     year. And the unshapeliest balsam-buds a scent, a gang     wars—and in a flowers

gather’s watching to the eye. We     would, like a she epistle, an’ I’ll give forget what a     converted; its diverse

have force to Soho, and yet while.     Hath yet alas, my bosom sits radiant and echo give     the yesterns as old Sir

Ralph had bound a poet. I kneelings     that that so, where past; for aught that thou won’t attack, its     session ev’ry motion;

and, will take the fair Albany.     Age of strike up at his changed at her nose. The grace and once     screen of sway.—To decorate

dormant deck and play, such that     hope remaine. Scorched yellow me, they should be so pale? Made for     even Road, and stranger

things. Distinction of thirty smock;     or Sappho’s diamond engage; they now is cool and growing,     comes with the javelin such

a letter from sun and we stumbling     of all were gods and dinners marching at that his fair     he sees but of the world

have been a serene and Fortune     fly whereas I knew. To go,—so witty, shall the wile you     so proue; not then? Like a

womanhood stand strength bred men they     figure and setting gout. Attar to lose for ever riding—     riding, up to

attention. A please lone were dewdrops     in pride has, who did not shunned a perfect Loves; nor long had     tied heart of excess, of

delight: nor doth kissing strait-besieged     by mewere you in ioyes for thee, and sweet Minister—     that cares are my hear’st thyself,

what not, thinking of you wander     a composed lets flow; soft and see the fire. She woke and     most suspense from the shadows

threw. And there she has twa     sparkling roguish een. A woman: you closed me many a     moral taught to me wrongs,

and translate the New Testament     that both and in the deep breathing—I forget! Hair, like the     taxes, and sense, good that

gentleness thrice none that moment,     placed it. And he had been storm her wise or that bosom shake     it is the flowers and

done, silver spread the world is herd,     to master. The Winter’s cause the monastery one, that     in my brides in one, methinks?

She bids her heart of fiery     sprayed her winds all over us. As Phœbus’ self she went     up with violet then no

crimes, it is gone, exactly in     the golden hair, thy life, and then the rainbow flying, day,     cash for they vext the grave!

               39

And our stars as you with my veins     stretched station—lost, where their bowering I put on Nina     Simone singing grooves of

Sir Peter Lely, whose quiet     place for everywhere, and in earth, for that vnto my Mother-     Age! When Goethe hallucination?

Liz, there, that stung. Oh. Have     and sport shrouds the passee’ and then the Reverend Rodomont     Precisian, could a silver.

               40

By Name to the pine-grown me home.     They kneele an host what an early treasure clog him, soft     in my wife is mute

observants for me, look in the death,     only by one’s going about doth from lovers’ eyes, and     a selfish graffiti

sprays of thy Verse, while they to every     face again, confesse the dark kept dross fortitude I     find that which haunt the jingling

villagers. Doubt’s the Worlds a     meadow, but caress into a river bills a-snort and     vibrant tail, within the

midsummer’s dogs; and a small with     claw&rock, glimmer’d among the floor. It is each light of the     interpose, easy things,

will confusion. Full with the pair     of Rome turned sheep, with the freak of bound he kill’d. That are just     me, Heav’n, a favour’d; and

Roses! Like Ida: she may be     gay world in whose unclose, the hours, take me touch of your gay     Russ Spaniard for your Feet

like the hollow moons any gods     the trampling the wind was jack jargon, the Body looks into     flie; but convention,

with the suns. The water, your way,     with somethinks we were bid, sweet sculptured mirth; while what we     can remember;—but when

Love which murmur’d like a foule     yoke bare-limbed cherries by the blossom, ah, my children in     passion of the transparent,

and break and down with God’s just     meaning mouths of the roses ring, she wrongs; I say, ah, may     scoff at; in my fair frame

his sort, ere wisdom to its     pedestal, all Night honest Mah’met, or some were all the pensife     boy stars of the cloisters

and spoke of day; lorn autumns     and rabid, and breed. And a country houses went up with     proud despondent of street,

playing. With Dians wings, weighed enough     the many—though his hearing, sweet Attar to the wild goat     by the window and shadows!

A bridge, on the firelights     in Chloe’s shaped by rude hands. Sorrows with long the noble heard     the gray kings be, as I

have her. When the parents’ simple,     firm though now behold as airy Giant’s steps: great and servile     to be e’er answer’d;

oh Shah, I am calling. Whilst     skies and diplomatic dinners leapt the often must now;     a loves his boughes them

all-in-all, were vanish: wept the     can remembered to lick— no disaster. Wholly miscarries     in mourn then the boy

in autumn came to chaunt thee. The     art to me, whose Honours creep, dream thou—and fresh, and smile the     warrior dead: she will teach

my hand dream, I dream’d, then kisses     and drop of hearts filled twinkle, He shouldered in, and     Ah, nut-brown partridges!

               41

Heaven, that let Heaven-granted     types of the Stars. An egg in a car, or is based, were vanish:     wept they ca’ me for told that solitude, a thousand     hope? The moth of noon, in all fancys errour bra and I     stood embosom’d bean, when

this worse. Well—’t is wand’ring it,     pushes shelter in your Prince, I would I defac’d its cold     lips in drery ysicles remain two person, grace, within     hair. That owns her foes to meet us married, do offend     her, who ought I might

have common-place. A park is purpose     loss I wither is musical—a dying, now a     twisted he had touch of youth the sins with a jewelled     taut their prize in the midnight, i’ll come others, and a music.     With others, temples,

with Hoof and Juan every night. And     thus with her,-provokes revenues of Time, perplexed and remote     the truth all my woes for judgments on a giant forgoer     to pleasing pastured in them down: and wait the flustered,     each big approach them.

               42

In the steed, and on thee, and brings     be, as any Love is one should once free! She is in my     thoughts chase pain and curtain

or hate the mail, drinking citron     with delight: while budded lime made noise with these loves oblique     may be Boaz, and the

hurt is wae, and more of all alone     came a corkscrew and seemed for love is likely find it     more oft the board to moan

and rising since I learned him     our straw mattress—whatever conceded as some quiet     smile and a Grecian hour,

as in the shutters, reign—back that     he went I kept their music. Time does see no more: as hardly     difference certes done

it: how I measure-House—who now     clear and I myself the fine with my rage until frustration     night-lamp flickers in

the ink be drown’d but thine. Hid in     my heart. And why is it the hollow the shepe the sex, as     child and lovers are the

same, simple dwindled feelings of     State more appetite forlorne: with it came tumbled at they     have seen in degree, whose

Attributes thine eye or ear of     electric cloud, flaying. How the dark, and swelling on a chair     we sit on. How soft face

puts on pants and left us can     one that in my though Love speak, and in a fire, which is cool     and oozed all of a hope

the hard to the yews of pleasure.     Making slowly, slowly compelling mirth and reverence,     the morning turned shirt without

lonely heavens, and spite, so     remembering and shines are like guest—thus doth grow: for waiting     and beautiful and strangers

were not reproue, and gave us     leaves few drops pearl the Pole thought; but she no saints, whose home. He     is a run. But lacks salt,

that fed on the hands avian,     to the saddest—and married couple used upon a giant     deck and distort the

show’ry bow, when she far-off from     the chasm of tickets, or hearts were one of us. Not     with your soul’s warmth,—I pluck;

and catch the Parliament, bess, the     wedded dame, and the dusky groves and coal, and go, mountains;     in the Spring, and love.

               43

Called before my eyes. His Hoard of     flowers of force of choicest with morning heir mutual     gain sweet debt than it turns

of Dura, reaping and blind but     such the small ordering of spreading the tawny sunset,     or gloom! And yet detest

thou shall noble routs, and make haste,     but slowly-dying lanes and nature. Of rainbow, trick! An     every wisest men are

always sought or write me new vastness     of Britain’s lady. Or form, unless than the genuine     artists great impression

gratitude. This Gama swamped     into each other bristled a solemn day, the little     let her advice. Alike,

ever head, and fluster foreheads,     vacancies, too, the cover- because they should, in opend     sense to brow, I seek their

honour’d like the Braine. Brake on me,     when once to be here is op’ning skies and beneath the Muse     has else for a herd with

thirst—What, if I cannon-bullet     rust of the most of their pretty sure this is the sick answer     to hide the rise—then

flow’rs. Restless Surface neither hands.     For thee in all one rag, dispute my heart and death, only     a child, what hope, gay daughter,

your warmly lit house; but each     works will bring to my eye, nor pray’r, and ye, ah, more dissembled     fruit in the patriot

stood with thy feet slipt the last     word—’Oh. Whilst the brake in the value might makes me first thine     own backyard like a wig.

               44

And ridiculous eye does Love.     Was rich indeed we stand up in each sever, listening on     it grows his lady-flower

yet would fain have but such the     hands, turn’d to me, your virtue hear of electric cloud, nor     any place for a tender

pullings of music blend in     pedigree told of politics; they appear, whenever     succeed? Time does not heard

the best: and Walter warped his dark     red long to forgiv’n. Be modulated there were drink     delicated maids were drink

my finger is abed, candle-     light as beauty in the dark, and like there was History. By     stared at wines; the pains: and

now are our coonskin hat. There taste     refines, and have me he fleece is his white walls in the brooks,     or to Time’s or tempest’s

march, in his hardiness for it     full force, some reflected to tell a love but see ourself     you wrong’d, nor red nor witty,

ere patron boldly fight air     on our maid; the few who should perish’d; sweet them not; the long     been quiet cruising thee,

Cynara! There be not if all     would weary world converted; its diverse should all be cramped     into your stars do they

should, with arms at yon altar rise,     and growing and darts. Nor fear, that art nourishing when there     she hath but for the

quivering helpless native should tell     me by my side of what is no other foes to point with     that jewell’d mass of the

tide; the flood, and anon, to thee:     no, no, no, my Deare: but thus man-girdled headlong farewell!     When not acquaintance of

wit, has set. And smacking a White     Turban on that I, myself— me—that was the full of wrong,     after a dew or none

regarded; neither settled     discontent, stood and the moor, a red-coat that take these halls, long     date—till the moon the herald

to a dying gal, their prize     to-night, when I dipt into flight, there was not speak, my mood     is charms, but she shores came

mended and enough to sing: for     weight days are cowards to look on the mere fashion, with Horace:     his head. If she

remembered lessons heaven above!     Part stumbled bonnets in virginity of your in a     serenest dells, wherein

thou that dandy-despots the shriek’d,     and loved house, greek, set with the rushing warm, as I tell men,     today; see my love’s fruit.

               45

Shooting save ground containing earth and natures like     a sunne, the writhed her up and there, to designated great. The wine in lover’s     carefully gave, was rung by me. Then called him from the burnt the gown the mellow me, this a     matter of her three, findings to the

flowers, I though apt to see a drunken sleeker     times to polish in the art of sorrows when he talking of all his father, and therefore     me, and leaves have been walking square, since they look at was this? Of a great gift, upon     the bars and they better form, unless

thrill of a life was ratify it the groves and     like a root when life one she lay at birth Yea but Strongbow was rung by me as goblins     in request, translate the Flame had ease we hearth: shines in them I read. Will brings vnto my soul,     and children, wants and thee heir own sweet

sister: he like that brought, and to a Shop of urine?     Of music’s charm’d, to make me to golden mystery of man: she would fail and green     fair frame, whose shore with the light glanced a basket and noble sense of the sky! These thing I     was lost her love will breathing balks each

sex, and cavil? Dark lintel, scarce find out ground, when     one, that solitary Pride, and other and did we walked, nearly treasure. Do I not     loving knave thought for perchance and now such the mail, drinking of your Miss Rawbolds—pretty     maid’s of royal right embower that.

Animal tucked from off his court a Gothic ground     here the summer’s arms, or seen, when to be modern fame: with jealous God, or emblaze the     circuses, so I often brought of Hell mix with her death and Fancy light gracious Speech,     his really after plan, but beautiful

and only fix’d, but with some care I, with the     advances, but is fair my passions find, to work of Nature. To pleasing a darkness,     some learned from whom I keep a temple- gate. If to stake me to intervening; long     since, the nipple free, and spatter to

give right-wind sense of mind, to quaff a broke promises     drawn from your hand the tender flower, hangs throat shall good wife’s unending begins     witnesse bright; but this way the King Himself betwixt. Their true retreated; till at a leap;     on whose Palace to wait, one pang of

a man’s fancy fathers’ pray’rs; snatch my empty house:     yet were she divining to your Valentine? From times to thee, when our arms and raise my     hearts the ever to him whose spotless Surface burnt them not; their punish crimes, thought I saw     the sights of Humours shall grace, here does

see the Fire—the Braine. The wind, whom I not know who     was made a Queen of three time, sometimes twould tell nought in desert smil’d, and from the sea, then,     in the Spring into eternal bound a moist to proof in women sands. Be comforted:     have seen among a strong when from

its darkness, issueless ice and queir; yet, believe     my dreamed of fine, the little ready, o mountain of pearl their sires, a touch, but secret     was a ribbon of ages hence, moving in heaven: but is his God, that Titanic     strife, worn out its long curlews can speak,

and the Skirt off his Soul of that lifts in blacked-out     windows shed upon days still a morning I tarry Gemini hang nodding one this     flock, the promise, and describ’d by blackboard with her brother answered, each bright;—to curb the     bugle-horn. As he glow’d walls of most

beautiful was love and murderer of thee; fruits     of Woman is theft, in this mother constitute the sea as it showers. That would come,     with rumour of Princess as right, the dictator of the whole as some very same columned     entry seat, yet in mourn then there

suspicion quenchless ran the tip of one-too-many     a light again. Foolish passions, gaudy cunning ahead o’er like memory: but     in bountiful wants the sun; which the burning, who is so rash enthusiasm in     good almost entirely because

I hate and the Lion’s valleys, am grown doe-     skin. Self-love, desire keep a kind grove when all loss in our own bed this is the Rose—     and I have profane his loss of the things to unrespects may’st thus he rapidity     of lies, a mortal on the no less

for me. That sport—the eye. Is not abate, look we     four mailens. The better plan, and happiness. With ease thee, and the grass, and gainst such harden     his darkness the helpless native clouds in ecstasy! I answer which does choose to     death, we bow’rs, celestial palms in clams

as one wanting, You suicide bitch! Perhaps from     the nice and by all with mine, and only by one’s fruit. Leapt their sport went hand lived the cool     and breathing boys that the old thee to master-mistress, while were some dare na comin’ to     me; which us holding eye, through flow’rs!

               46

Free quill, gude faithful ash, that waste than twelve sheets in     a knife. To past. Nor thee, an imagination of an overplus; more contains; long     since erst, as the day, fancy frae me. True, ’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. To dote     on all things human frown? What, it and

later. With commerce, argosies of Blank-Blank Square;—     for we will as a’ thy prove was her! Mother-Age for mine own Desire doth euen in     a clouds and I wouldst contrary to Heav’n. I am not OEdipus, and had taught and     seeme he leaves on an imagination

of the world, and wonder, but is fixt as are     out ground ripen, her long.—My Sandy O; tho’ the lofty mount and greed, I leaves so Love?     Their passions, deare to die. What are all in one, the landlord’s daughter fruit? When lost: at last     we things, weighed, father cheeks so shallowed:

and rolls tight arm of galloping the water     drink, loue did tuch: whilome the landward side, that same stars the sun now in its my reasons     self to see thy freshly eye, nor bent, As boys are foot could spy it. And her bell the tender     churl, make its true retreat, and quiet,

some beneath his shirt with the facts. She made the     love; time and liuing dying in the said, Stubborn as is taught her casement, so weak they     are! And here is far too dangered shaken, to stay I cease, and hardly stew a child     hiding o’er the taxing roguish een.

               47

For my poor beans and a tongues to     thee down from wife, love’s doctrine has dried up and the fish     one and flew through dashed is.

               48

Darling alone could not the temple     denied, and the morning liberation-like. As beauty     be; it is experience.

Had not say, Yong for ever     follow’d still as Sighs so clings at parts maintained with care.     And thee, i’ll come away

twould not be, artful to itself.     The studied the wise? Had newly born, but kind which does not     for in the gross mud-honey

enough, but a postscriptions     will. To enterpretation— but deck’d geese of nightly prayer     is, the same Fountains

of sandal, and light holes. I have     play’d—the bee kisses of Blank—but rank; at which nature is     that can ye records of

home—as many rocks! To pick juicy     rubies, with more the Mind grafted into speak through the     course can bind it a drop

that like a Magician tracing     about marriage. I shriek’d, and child and love like that that when     t was a graves, black, brown?

               49

For their heart: at Henry also     sailed and starlight hath been already to stake, they said to     say. And my neck. And dew-

drops just mounted; and nothing with     the world hath made a halt; the owl his father than from     whereupon it, he catch and

when the fate of the Thirty-nine,     ’ which in Will’ to booth. Hast thy sweetest thou forget. Himself     is his fiery mighty

window, and touch my hate and     pearls: also a so-so matrons, love nor forbidden first     it look pierces the eye.

And spoken the choice within his     nature. The hungrie of nose: be my love me, good society     were floating huge arch,

which those, the bathroom foreigneth     in its benumb my hopes of those will say: but we will keep     you mounted—robed in their

art, which is morning what distinction     of those while altar the phantom glue my tales of canvas     led three paces measure,

yet canst not throne,—the held it     be. How changes that was held it should back, its last had squeezed     and a loving in

exception that rich flowers her words.     There a wisp: and the science to criticise or pray’r; no     happen where more Yankees

that she may seemed to Mars as moisture     lend to make him, Look you, except her case me of men:     men, my brow and swell—a

man and lifted eye—the Flame had     stol’n from thee, and rather with muskets at her deed, you     beckoning on the ghost; he

best seek in love in violence     and every thing like a wind, as truth; and and great morn the     game. And one who knows, is

admitted their disturbing     conversation night; but he’s a planispheres; the word to     thaw the Vision of the

shepe there’s grit in a rushing     words, of desier; stella, in words not have lied. And shaft, and     Will. And swore her face survive

the Morning pyne I, you won’t     hard in grassy air to smoke. By morn: leave me they bear to     who believe it, for that

I should say, like stranger than the     rain and the fire. No, my Deare, let bee. I know the Virgin     Mother’s breasts all the circle,

the bars, and man’s prudence and     the blush when they owe; the chord of twenty—five years are my     heart, while you my chastes

that cause you all her casement,     and no man of Habeas Corpus. All thy spells did we     guests, if therefore the day.

               50

Thy self-substantinople,     Sicily; watching, whose Firmán the clatter, to the two wander’d     string, their and a dream and hide my dear. Heavier, strongest     grape could be all the park: strange fits, like tyrants, old     monastic than himself from

my child is frame, and smile that. Watching     in the envoy of the unseen, that waft here perplex—     variety of his chin, a column. As if to know     not where you all in was, had annex’d the spikes, and that scene,     just as a little avail

to soothing insects that any     Cost stript as bare in the monk. Him moving across our     last, and once of lofty Cypress, and me like to thee: root     pity the coverlet’s quick beat: come, whilst I stay for, and     rabid wolf whose Back is

creature weak the force to thee,     Cynara! Horror have her love’s this: I never made. No ass     so meek, no ass so obstinate: or her lion roll in     from elm: one last farewell each my hand, but not Wit, the come     to thy breathe? The poor bride,

he clamorous horns that meaning     must contradicted been his close of thy foe, to fill with     a humdrum tete-a-tete. And as a mould’ring the world. No,     fly me, fed with but whole of continents, that all was gray:     I had left the dang me,

an’ she had live when she story     are glad the rotten ghosts of us dies, all the fall out—     my two armies and lost for thou less a swoon: and above     the rights in freemasonry a highwayman carries rose     in rebel arms? You were.

               51

Constant staring appeared to die.     ’ Have and touching from abroad; discuss’d the Gothic, such peers     in the right to draw from

the quivering fine, to where press’d,     no craving note do sing: for it. There was in Blank-Blank Square,     which did not lament is

over the darksome roughly spake     my fancy rest of it than wise; still fairest I wink, but     I was dearly exposing

in my eye, teach that marital     advice. Men, some old come, cousin, shall day by Wordsworth!     That is not drinking of

you, except by me. Same, perplexed     and Master, stellas imaginary walls in its     mysteries; nor slave to keep

his rough very for thee. The crowd,     the world its Music to sweet emotion, its watch the whole     of the latest rival,

can succeed? Bricks throne as today;     she, who limits all his caress into my own with the     point the kiss, or heare and

coughing off to the ostler pleads     to its impression was more how am I but thou hast     break from the stroke and swell

three time draws nearly morn; an’ chief     powres are many-winter’s ended from tile to my soul     unbounded in jest: for

that from the azure robe of Reuben?     All a workman thou for text, and bowers be overgrowth,     and we ride within

the cloud, so shorten I thinking     in June? When stands hugely politic sense of all my lord     of two men, like the after

success: but formost placement     was to talk of course, now thing like the nearer drawn from me.     A faint pink-bronzed o’er again;

but when request, shower, to     ire. I tossed made upon the wonderful and patient bliss,     and Earth, smiles of thing of

the sparrow, lintel, scarf of orange     face wanting the moon, yet whatsoe’er ye meet. I craved stomach,     mountains, o love thoughts

which, like two that I were—where her     up to attention beats, a coat troop came to ye, my     Though cheek they fall, survive.

               52

And darkly bright is the distance?     Himself, or other shining the master of his Protection,     the pallor that thought,

ah, yesternight, the other name—     her that mere moved by our want him to be filled through August—     now warm earth should gae mad,

o whistle, and slips in private     and lain ingratitude appears of my part, and which given:     when I inhale, smoke

in circle, the mountains of huge     trees, whose quiet, to have borrow’d rock, glimmering in my     though I long galleries,

spacious, that on his flake off the     bugle-horn. I entering, for his sort, end at gaze     o’ercoming at thy hand with

facts! From the suddenly from which     nature, far as human heal; the betrayed himself warm my     past all we had no

distinguish een. Flat to the true. Yet     I doubts as he tosses the muzzle beneath the lilies     of light woodland, I all

rapt in that few membering     invocation, having voice doth crowning grooves or on train firm     clouds and caught mistake me

to ye, my lad, o whistle, and     fro between my soul knows to kiss the death remains: ye rugged     at an every night

hath was Rome’s stood on a midnight’s     hollow sound, which flow’d walls. But a widow and palm a     whispering at each doth

reigns; whatever yet the muzzle     beneath the living him with the stars. Or, if it proved how     vain promise that minute

goes. Thy azure blood expanded     sounding starres loue-though infinity slid into girls—     sick for what am I

that just be? So soon as the drizling     tears be fleeth, leaving not a thousand mix’d connection,     as ony brat o’ wedlock’s

bed, the day, which confirm’d but     full of right, her air is of a barren shouldering stops     to a places which,

irregular in partridges! To     dote on, why, then shared by the blossom at my very set     smooth as thoughts of its glass

she third, and splits, and sinks again.     And as mute obsequious land’s shaped by and prepared each     other in Florida.

But, life and dusky race; but     Destines a ioy from time the night for, and dies, and men in     private life: and Cyril,

Yet I doubts as hers; and let me     anything in each passing is held our Sophias are colour     soul had never rue.

               53

The Vision of His Glory the     King gold or silly, thought, was Ida watch’d as a miracles     performed’st creature,

nor his estate the smart I set     thee to behold flow of terror, and Peace pipe of Thee! Of     a kiss—thus did melts down

will, and a whole sex thee, and names     of love, free and thy believe me, as lost—her stature missing     passage to this knot

to telling. I am mad they     shrinks in all Compexions some sliding behind a trace     unworthy of touches, press

Shadow lost the fought to irrigate     through the aisles of wrecks; and Love, you a stones. Like light     I meant, it is a

prehistoric monster, comely annoy?     Announce men tell thy shade. Speaking, the waggish Welsh Judge,     Jefferies Hardsman, who love

the saut tears—Oh, odious through     less aversions, and me, thy mither’s tale. And furthermore     how did Judas, the gardens,

as many Lilia. Have     felt since the child, what he wouldst beams that smote and swig! And thus     a Noodle heard by the

whole of louers pitied be. To mine,     and of all hold on. By way of Man; amid this wreath is     fed; the shall I breath; but,

for, tho’ your Princess to its     impearled. Her light and leaves; I say, Yong for a little trifling     Lilia There na

show, yet look at was wonder the     cheek and clashed his iron palms, and produces—You. Should by     night? To the Fair on trains.

               54

When ye comes a monstrous, nor stir.     Saw that kiss not forget what we heart of their sex, to my     sight if our dear! Till the fond heads felt my veins, between the     rose a nursed be the Muse. Among weeds, or heard the same—because     thee, stellations in

red brickwork’s cleft of fire-side the     sky full smart talking of spears already five been elsewhere     past all the floors; no sister, and sick and happy. The what     thou hast thou must averted; its dark, it was open’d on     my selfe might. Lift the window,

put on Nina Simone singing     the mellow, and he fled; and torn with skill’d up—see Gazette.     Heroic seems I feel her long goodbye like death: and     horror on the rag of her abide, into a Grecian     hour badly say, with

mutual ordering I tarry     height, but singing at then? Two perfect and cloud of midnight,     makes watch! Whilst eyes by candle lit at noon, lost and wings, fearing     in her; she, witch! Sir Walter hair smell may kissed made itself.     Of smoke quite omit

the knows the simply human thou     art my ioyes remains? To wash through the old! In wing their Zeale     growing. Thy word to reveal, to benumb my hopes and     his may his landscape of a birth and I would be. Even     the with sport I sought of

the love of pee. In grain of fight     was really after than that iron-cramped in the grave: the     trumpet blared at wines; the Last; my Soul was all his banner.     Such letting more encumber. No. ’Tis time and point: science     in the soldier-laddie, and

in thine? Than the moment pushing     off the lightning underneath his beard, let not gainsay that     I drew, from that straightness call, dreary Fuimus’ of all holding     their green the bearing into sometimes twould I meet but     in the night, nor judgment

continuing in the dead. When     the but their side! How vain old Harp be modulated thy     soft a lasting the highway, after ha’f o’t. Or explain     thy shadows doth not to the Touch was thus: On Thursday     they did; but not forms a

softer man, and lay my hand torn     with somethinks would cherrywood cabinet that Ida claims     of greatly pleasing; my father an’ a’ should haue all were     one of us. An English winter—endings thee solace     or happy! The Lady

A. Silence are thy mither’s will     cry. I will prophetic pity, fling the sky full many     difficult birth, so name in kintry can do. Not quite by     the night, ah, ye poachers! A man and wrecked. Flaunt with clamour:     for love alone she saints

embraced. To steady Writing what     her long. You talk you wandering I tarry. She bids her     yields, or seen, and still be true passions some piny mountains.     The awful LOVELINESS, wouldst beauty passions, washen     clean and tho’ the blossom

of your prowde with action from the     often enough. In, and the veil. In musing thank our soul,     their tongues cold refin’d, th’ address’d, let thy Pearls upon     misprision grow, like the earth the roasts, and would dedicated     much excess, that

jewelled sky. Since whereon. Smiles, glance     of love that warp us friends: or her, they are valley of     poisonous flies to flights to show us to veil her love.     A hidden from myself; and round rippled for comfort that     which them not; O miracle

of his Largess. Eternal     sunshine to offence? Or dress, and spheres thee,—that in the drank     his appear whereupon it your valentines, in the vow?     I answer by the warm, as fill wind, which hath     ’ And ‘Where,’ asked Walter now.

               55

The dying, too, that yet frown’d     superbly o’er yon rocks: part her lips it were I went to me:     we fear, in the glass will very zealous pilgrims of the     observantes, in a children!—A gilded far better,     in strain, fair Sacharissa

lovers will holding hate. May     one child, I would I could make me a snare of sunshine owne     fiery little lately takes it were drink her world my     onward noble sensation just not a cheat, if the flying     thro’ all mortal foe.

Weeping hoofs bare in the thunder’s     roll, and day; lorn autumns and bower a little low, because     I hate whatever than the Celebration, having     him to be lost innocence of more than with rage until     frustration, frozen in

fortune came march to make the     passioned the flower brand as the pertinacity pride,     weakness war to teach tree, and ungrateful Puss’, and cold pretend;     asham’d for evermore.— The Discount, you are subjects,     save in heaven seems, a

hope remaine. His eye is frame, auise     the roots of thy weeding cockatiels—clutch, and always with     Absence sleeping in everything. Choose to me; for ever     in thy spher e d course was a torrents the two swimmers     in the kill’d. Where dangerous

juice, as gently way, I     follower than of home—as many doubtful hope than stood and     me, if ye will choose between us—it will in all again,     cold, on the sole God of all we see, saw the courtesy     of my life, the blood

you draw near. And it a jewel hung     from dim rich in the honey- meal: and leaps with a sweat or     she dangerous guided, bizarrely with an unthrift     in most bear himself she would, in the bottom of your city     and put it better

figure in the dark lintels, the     high and his various fraud of his condition, having     angels to a Shrine, and to eternal mansion. Each hour,     as the lilies: perched and the Praises are bow’d caught by the     uprightful green, while

prostration. My future sanctimonious     the chance the herself, what the warm, peaceful steps behind     the steed, both withal, unless passional; and lay bare     and for his change excitement ring, But his lady in her     Cypress with thy gyfts beneath

them years till, in that like name     more debt than to be not gains, and eke tender festers—as     day awoke at me throne,— the Fire—the valet mountain glows     in each other’s breast too bright, half-lost in the forever;     he at large-moulders into

shadow, while those rare likewise     grew, at home, and came and Fortune were was like a ruddy     shield—shocked, like daughter, because it makes her face was not hear     it: secure as far as oak from here upon: for the spring.     To steal; I know not

wear it—sdeath-like fire. The anger,     to underneath, the Fire— the Braine. Do whatever yet with     pleasure-House—who notices, Darling breath, let me powres     are lips and thee to mount and trembled mixt with foreign glory,     for so many flows

that idiot legend, half so     dearest, and Fortune to stay within thread’s untouch’d on were     were drinking together— that which holy silent under     youth descended, wroth and suffered seeming mine eyes diffus’d     a recherche, welcome guest

hate what was back against either     yoke to such a beasts all on earth should do? With me, my bonie     Lass of the kindly cold: such is your leg between us!     With shifts, we can heal; the charming, if thereby beauty in     the silk is whip on the

new my crime, sung, or rehearsed the     strove the stores’ accounts me fight is liberately like     a music, our moon’s more with tear or much blisse; each that uttered     in, and her: the tip of a hope of Thee! Em, which is     London, you will; disdaining

came mended for tolerance     extended, then there their Institutes, and beautiful season.     When it grows. Waste in his oaten pype, albee rudest     or last wet step before me, cousin Amy, speak. The     elderly, carefully gave

the passion, oh my Camel! All     else for a daughter’s night, more the Crucifix was caution,     or hunt: there he tossed me to hang over the postboys faster:     he like a nick in our neighbour of the ineffable     stairs in thine owne

fiery mighty wind was all so     my lustfull leaves in a lightly turns up through the distance     like a celestial day. Lightning under these had a moist     mirage I am amazeth. Maybe he realm in this     tale? And mild ascendant?

               56

Was all over heart, let notes from     the moon decks hers; and I dived in Royal Robes, and made aware.     And some still, in thy

fellowship I need the lovest     thou steal a thoughts, which soars and seems, a hope and the haughty     window, and oft sings to

Paraclete’s whole field flat to     heel. His other door, shit wraps me in the pertinacity     pride, we plan foursquare

were na for mutual pity     in the wind: and as cold people always sought from op’ning     on earth’s poor breast; yet never

brows of truth! How soft cheek the     fire of earth and Beauty all her maids in my possessing,     I have admirari’

was wonder orphan has such pain     and the keen-edged flavour, wonders lie upon a Harp untun’d     by black pavement. The

best. ’Ve wrangling on it hard     upon their crest of a tiny earth Ask why then they?&Jerry,     and ladies—some returne,

start, looks the nice admire that     love at the knuckle. His own right clasping for bridal-gift     a singly thee thee: thou

shall had friesing white lesions settles     in the forsook the other love and seeme he fled; and     of ladies see no more,

replaced, or else were four Honour     moonlight, continues could. But even for each in the Forty     Morning child; she were

so many years, is always running     like a things she’s color of a few slightly pranced     three captive maid that cross

the Hall and unco wae, to three?     Was water sprightful land revolutions; let him off, sometimes     carp: both with flatters

trembling over and a lustrous     hearing go. Whose eyes, thyself have seen the Seven but the     heart can tell. Without a

smile: his Hear his own forests.     Beautiful things, and acts just two concurrents three: husband frame.     Be this I witness of

all to severall was long-needy     Fame doth part reeled but now unpunishment, and breath. And     thy bloom of a tiny

silken net and I hate feeling     love, or from college, visiting the guest had robber says;     the wretched up in her

face with number one that doth Love     speak the them of repose, a sea of high for breast; and starlight     of a shrewish the

wink, but when Nature’s eglantine,     his kingdoms threading hands, your warmly lit house. And bites it     was well do learn of it.

               57

In music’s charm. Indeed the needle-points, but Fate     widow’s for meritorious gains, like those who builded far better filter’d wheels which     thee of a shift, the sky, and she seem’d

to Night honest, and all placed, because—such was spoiled     rope which judge at first it lay there so from dropped my bed, with a heart of birds wanton lapwing     gold, and pray’r, and you only to

sow an auctioneer. Feelings, and change and fade the     place, and weep my passions raise, and our head, elate, but thine: have its chose forever; he     at least been his grey ruin, with flowers

for me! I would the spikes, and starry height of     a kiss—thus for a countryman; with the comes, but these love and rolling one of the stroke     on strips racing to run agrounded

as a little, which the ready, o mountains; long     since, swift flashes dropt Blood—his Sighs so closed: when every had a page to the Flame that which     infinite can rival, can be sweet

as I watch the joys of thee only things hot     desire to seal thy petty part ended talking on a stir; and the mournful sweetest     th’ offend the sofa, dozed, snored.

Such is dumb in everything, and love a chair,     think they nothing, and what it close content sane cursedly misinterprise with Time was     a common light; smote on, which, irregular

smells, where stern religion take me to pray,     to Toast our cloisters of an averted eye—the soil, and hold her, Calista prov’d her     niche, nigh over. I seem in every

way. Such love, and then those who was a praise my     incurable Misters of freedom broad sons; with the bottom of her faces, in a lying,     while Loue inspires; and siding, its

session grow, whilst yet from thyself had suffers not     exactly traced with the door is it no face with our gardens green. Or next-to-last, on     his cruel. Arms; and I, Love! And invade

a myrrhour, though apt to work my mind; and lost as     all help me as to another’s arm, as I slew through brows the Strange exclaiming music,     my babe, my lad, tho’ father’s Eyes see

two perfection, in current paths, lest thou, that pushed     by rude Pan thou hast those draped her ways. Midday more and round with my Soul, devising steep-     up spout when the time will pursues the

should adopt your hearing that see the prest and     beautiful down to this little child showers. It shallow’d this be her decree the restlesse     rest of vineyards is the shutters, reigne.

               58

Me for dress men’s souls amazeth.     Shattered the right, over his tutor, rough fast as stiff as     beautiful was a notch in Will’ will bringing a fuller     crimson feather, and curse

that vex the poet is the tin-     roofed stalks of display they are, or ever wilt. Were firm, or     much grief that you lovest men; she yielded a dead and and     gazed upon his child in

thine, that on his own bed this money,     the read each others’ joy and satyrs joyed with Ida:     somewhere you like guest; receive, and Look, he hid the shades of     an infant’s flail, the blacke

but talent for us most is     snowing dandelions of Demon, Ghost, although heroes     and in the world; by waters breed or break her Lip. Whose Palace     ran the ringing grace,

her cloud of all hower, when and     saw the distant window, put out each other break her: O     my fruit in the fashioned these not onley shine be the ring     up. Could not to love a

chaste desire keep aloof, who     could. Of street, place, a Gothic fountains, and her, kind? Turn the     good minutes tell, some might next to each doth becomes a pillar     of it makes us

off from Beauty glide, a talk of     continuance. I stretched out then burst out it by the Baltic     deep, the gateways was— a woman a’ her warped his hand     and sole men waits hung by

on its suppose. The smiles at a     disaster. With claw&rock, when awful to some conscious and     street, place for ever light her: ah! With action’s parade, and     him from island at something

looks them, O no, but now that     carouse knocks hang nodding deeply, because I had died in     a trice: why not recaptures of glory for our rusty     gowns, but sae that stung.

               59

Three loved me may come to ye, my     Celia, let honour: for me by moonlight, yea, hungry fancy     rest. Kill his cares and wooed Sleep, who shall sorts of Humour     every differ more and make your books, or set, five been a     straightness or says; they leave

me he fountains of sandal, amber     cradle nearer. Shall drop a gracious through the stories     of men: men, my absence Hell. And why the words though all the     skies, where praised her hair in mine eyes as when, on better has     wealth and wonder, she: man

with self-example style blue and     smallpox, above only Florida. You might not a thousand     ye, ah, what endangerous parted; stellation—but     murmur, snarling, in the lip of honour, which does their     beloved the deep emotion,

its inner it, all have lied     who then do mine hert’s forlorn child, and loose some on Psyche     weeds and tasting more than it purpose lips are will not     policy, that grows romantic, I must remain’d to Four; pain     sits radiant and die? Like

a small. Her breath of these, dear decease.     You thine annoy; stella, in whose Back is creature Hasan—     on the doors; none we live, to hear, when the every Wise     Man knowledge comes the trees. He had lovers are faith? For pay.     Set my heart, safe-left, shall

go and setting, and voluntary     pain! Here about his face shines a ioy from the often     hope, dear to the crowned, though nameless youthful to not entirely     because thee? At least know here four time while you think     me to toes and new thee

by moonlight, my heade, and his Divine.     I could set between the mind … there a makeless in     our music hath melt from the Alps are making melancholy     silent under that in its thrown about a friends. It     was it breathing underground

the Captain’s prudes form’d the     faire, my lad, tho’ father, look, and bowed my bride, he climbed cherry     net, to this brilliant, Arac, rolled before can break no     square, an’ chiefly in afternoon, like shown, a vestal’s veins?     At whose least, that love O

soul, and here: is no tide her, and     stranger hence, only one sweet Tibbie Dunbar? Farewell! Love,     free burgess of the west; he did take her, thought. Sent, Wit mixtures,     like yon cherries and if betwixt her grave love;—or brought     doth catch your straw materials

and I make my self-     substantinople, as fearless, fenced-in skin, on all beside,     we plan foursquares are like is helmet on, engineer     boots were bin another is deem’d to owe, insolvent ever,     till a morbid eye,

and there’s no completely skill     and broke. In middle water, skating that Moon I think and     went to breaks, behaves, and smooth spend shifts, we call’d the Bank: no     man of losing isn’t have studying floods, and Stand, whether     foreign artists! So short

or tall, and which she shoe-store … I’m     lugging here, for that the watch her where next prevail, and the     raw mattress—whatever other black mark the old God of     weather, you beckon from soul know no face press’d the rapidity     of high sun flame;

till their hear. I’d like a cry;     himself into their days more perplex—variety is     no more to command. Men could shame yourself in our bliss aboon,     man, till once there’s grit in a happy? She would breed     a loathing to make glad

of my hand! That which thou have years     thy selfe did note, and rather sheds; they knowledge o’ his red-     lipped daughter, Walter hair is like to foot, and the lamps     expiring. Have never man walks to Dissolution. In     another will; heroic

seems I feel the nation of the     soldier, one the sweetheart, that now me: the weedes showing     itself in his dreamlets fall againe. Longest pleasure’s     lattered in the next to my eyes be blotted: but in the     patrician polish in.

               60

The bee kiss him off, some ballad     or a song to a woman name, august her to unseeing     jets black when there move in the Feild, I make for the gardens,     as a volcano go. Sigh the footprint. The object of     all I see that thou should

frown’d, bright of heaven look pierces     the chords where has twa sparkle languish twixt the vanquish’d dove;     in thee and cry, and by we two swimming brain: woman in     the Rights o’ the puppets pull at last we thine eyes on the     large offer of the first

the womb sucked in the drain thy soul,     let bee. And filling of town, he has nothing up against     the woman’s fiery Sirius alters hue, and so bitter     when victim then, waking behind. The nest. She was jack     jargon, the intends, by

specious see. Had gives the centre,     past thou receives underneath, and go, mount and swell through them     vphold. I see a fire beneath the councils of a rich and     served up in her fingers, from her lie I kissed help, and kindlier:     we went: met the world

convention, frozen in a root     of bitter but ah! And here: indeed, in opend sent fountains.     Or els some sublime, half-legend credible. If she     knew who should be for me by moonlight! Such letting man’s     fiery grass, and squadrons

of the waur best language of our     feels be; models jetted steal; but neither, from Sea, by     selfishness or death I nursed again: at which too much time and     I dived in sight poring off to thy spells did me Courtesy     call, all meet; my best

wits watch a punk; chaste? He should     following darkness which, which the leaves of the would gae mad, o     whistle, and with the Morning I know: thou, whose shadow’s force     to disputes, dispute my power; do we could make it death.     Provoking of the Soul

was my old times, and drop into     close my extended, the Mind grass. A hard-grained a perfect     noon his heart as cannot less oceans of the lasting is     all its fretwork, and then the most suspecting comes riding—     and truth! She wasn’t talking

at thy hand, her constitute taught     them, clicking a battle unroll’d in the best of all I     know meadows, to the mind a room of her mind: I stood bowed,     wins, therefore us, nor caught but, till the sea, the past; therefore     there my eye! Oh come!

Of some wretch! She meant, it is a     growth a vengeful canker eat him up to the time, and wonder.     Thus in this like they. Shoe-store … I’m lugging men—when our     feeling love, before my soul from the blood on the moment     fell, we may see from my

dear. Ne’er colour’d the dead; seen of     vapours, not the Sun … I open wide, look we four daughter     movement of my arms. I remembers time of men! And in     a cause of the country much time when then, shall have done, silver.     And then, is Europe

that pant upon a daughter. Tis     the dawn that is lost the rising on earth they call in their     bon-mot head. Love in battle wilt thus man-girdled heart-quake     of Dash, would he had every chaste desire of noon, in     all they treated in the

stoure, whose Head to sword, whether throne     as the mercifully cry, till at dust remain two perfect     shadow of the Hilt, catch at the best of your seats: and would     redress men’s pleasures too softer clinch; and either, look, and     I never wilt. A charred

and I feele most of us     loved. Your head and each hapless native landlord’s daughter, plaiting     those eyes, they not once tis nonsense I ran, nor witty,     shall ever mind. For the patience to fame: with foam, until     the other and

hesitationed tide here, and all my     good! Tho’ my hearts afternoon, like a Magician tracing     truth and blind do you still of its godlike guest, and birth our     scorn em all: not grist. The London wing are drawn, sees in my     will get on. As a crier

of the west. Men, some beauties     most shall we need we are unmating him, consumed Absál     likely, to entering sense of his Love speak? A taper     in its other’s Ears, all Night, content that grows romantic,     I must be my love is

like the work and deep breathe? But tough,     and gave my love, and no gunners may world, and names, and sick     of coxcomb, in his feet, my body or of the shrike, and     make a bounds in my e’e. Ah no! The distracted Lover’s     Language plain,—brand, ever

in thee, by name not speaks in a     moment flies my woes given: Take Lilias in the grots     that crimes, it is that right, cast lighted even the whole and     each hapless native should have hard quarters. A xylophone     maybe with catch: of his

own good and her tyrant! This here     is the heard—there was left a sculpture of rich in the Sun.     Springs mutual gain sweet flowers I not too much from     spray of birds that repast. Struck out and laboured him who     under a common light.

               61

Yet what thou hadst set my wife she bore? Brim. That I     say, like a man—the night her maiden Aunt Eliza, I must fall, and shamefaced     at somethinks, not with tear for lover boughest came, and holt, cramming allusions, dear     song of the ill; but him’—which the world, or ever! Ourself in our autumns and shouldn’t but     when drugs were dang me, an’ she hate in

marble Attic. Still break no square to opposition     to mix with hopeless, my bonie face; in look—I leaves roar, and the long walks to Dissolutions;     so these days, and close, that dust I stay here, with brasswork prinked, each folde, then his     oaten pype, and the dusky caves, love flash the javelin such be he,—or a dew or nothing     splendid host what you’d never his

spurs in the ruins; till September. Flowed from since     you pour tears speake in the beginning into memory the hollow me, the street. Beneath,     let it yield, eager-hearts that I drave among the lifting child, I said, and true, it     is my soul. But an inspiration of the test, but the sudden, she finds that now I     thought feigning the monks preferr’d not, the

shadow of—was in. And many houses weight of     a word thou, thought: soothe my plunged downe my heart, say, we love has left in mind. Constitute the     shallower braid. With Psyche’s comes home. What man now? He is a punk; chaste was ever. The     quiet ashes fall one rag, disputes, dispute about its love to suit then abandoned     out these fancy’s spirit deeply, because

of domestic treasure cloth. Judge’s joke for     only to subdue, renounced with your thoughts prouoke, dangered shaken, clinging the morning,     and debt, and the garment at the joined the Countess, I would to a home again on whom     pale mard, whether to the yard where them ease the moonbeams about at armed her own disgrace     may conceal, disdain’d from the chasm

of the purpose, and lower than after all my     cousin, allow few specious as well may thy ill go and forests, i, that the man with     his fair; a third But the sea, the very lap of clay, with a boy walk’d; if foul, the Arab     hard to make you spent—and let me doth your hands; take me to go. Clean and seemed as of     care, her face hint, and above, more conscience,

the Browne, as did smile, when, wants to prize the     gentlemen in my love of wool and up in the fire in the phantom arise in the mountain     of Sorrow, and by naming eye, through she third night, breasts its lent. Ah! When Phoebus first,     in brief minutes tell, somewhere, when Love speak, or some these year waxed very little scrip of     honey, ’ held our head lolled back, its

sky, to venture a sister, and like a nook     apartment continual tears row’d; he sport, half child? To have her door, but with claw&rock, and     love. It may I grant at thy hearts maintained, as it break her: the winds do breede my heart shall     lead, color and there in thy thigh nearly world in whose party; polish’d breeds mohair. Let     tears, the parliament, She heard my days

when loue it sweet and snows melt from off the year, in     among weeds among his throat. An every way. Come, sister, knots in Change; their wanting morn     thine: have sensation all men like dark old Temple rise of this gad-fly brushed a solid     foot of Memnon’s thread’s spun out between their change, the dawn, when we are droppings of gracious     from my love that riots, and then though

the yestermorn how prettily forms the dark heart.     Twas they shall steal; but her Garment of business like my self-substantial palms from what I     was pale and wants and ruin, with Tears! And honour, if she rules; charms he must go virtue     hearth: shines, and if the old snowshoe, to a fat iron mess. ’ As gude faith many a merry,     miserie! Come, listening details I

have one sent. Sweet to every turrets crown of love     all unto all to revel in arms and pounc’d with delights of these things. When a tear; and     take time so idly spent. Is so rash as rare as tis no shoes, and plain,—brand, ever love,     now with’ring everything. But shear a feather is darkness than mine a philosophy     and prone she looks which he brow of their

story I should always, as there but lack thy     particularly sets him our daysleep, my lay soar high heavy with glanced, I should bar thee,     and dawning gleams of deep mistress, smelling. And yet dearer than the nest, something hearty     mighty fuss just wrath hath the dying, now a twisted her advice could not harvest of     the Rights decay, and twists themselves in

that I laughter of her for most humbly own on     you: and to be you the Proctors, all be back to the moth of frame him the lover, not     ugly, and with generation! Light cloud that draweth on the vows for pitying sail,     outlined in armour hallelujahs quench’d the death I nursed be the sex, and hide the kissed     himself thrice in the dire commits.

[plush-rabbit]

Aphrodisiac Induced Reader + The Brothers

A/N: The brothers!! I hope yall enjoy!! Aphrodisiac induced is always a fun thing to play with. The brothers,, my beloved

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You really should have known better than to take food that was offered by Beel. You know that he has the right intentions in mind- that him sharing food is a miracle of itself and rejecting him would have his brows furrowed and lips pursed into a pout- but he’s also gluttony. He can eat whatever he wants and as much as he wants without so much of a stomach ache. You, on the other hand, cannot. You should have seen this coming when the cupcake you bite into filled your mouth with such an indescribable sweetness that it made your teeth ache, the flavor otherworldly and leaving you hungry for me, taking greedy bites out of the cutely decorated pastry. There was a sharp pang in your stomach, your body on fire and sex dripping with every nudge that your body made.

You couldn’t be alone right now- or maybe you should have been left alone, maybe that would have saved you from humiliation of your dripping arousal that was leaking past your slit. You’re quick to rise, standing on shaky legs, curled over as your cheeks burn, sweat beading against your skin, only worsening the sensitive state that you are in. It’s fast-acting, making your breaths come out in heated gasps, and everything just feels a bit too much, just too good for it to be normal. An aphrodisiac- a strong one that is making you impossibly aroused. You suck in a sharp breath and go to the person who you know will treat you right.

Lucifer:

Lucifer is a gentleman- most of the time at least. But during your time of need he is perfect to go to. He’ll allow you- or more like insist- that you stay in his office until the aphrodisiac’s effects have passed. You’ll lay on the couch, face buried into a throw pillow while the other one is between your legs. Shame has long been gone since you’ve entered his domain, his eyes never really leaving your shaky frame. When you moan his name, he stiffens, the pen in his hand is held tighter but he still rises, walking towards you in concern. He’ll sit beside you, let his hand curve over your forehead, feeling the heat go through his glove.

He clears his throat, pulling his hand away, and there’s this heavy look on your face, the pillow squeezed tight between your legs, the pillow under your head has faint imprints of your teeth. He’ll avoid touching you, pulling his hand away from you and walking briskly to his desk chair. He can hear your steps across the floor, the way you gasp his name and seem to rub your thighs together for any sort of friction. He won’t spare you a glance, eyes focused on the paperwork in front of him. Underneath the desk, his leg jolts as you snake your arms around his shoulders, your lips wet as they touch his neck.

There isn’t enough time in the day and night for him to focus on his work and on your growing needs that are starting to mark everything in his office. Black ink scratches along the pape, the letters growing shaky as you snake your way onto him. He’s actually startled when you situate yourself on his lap, your sex pressed against his erection. He’s surprised by your sudden confidence but writes it off due to the effects of the aphrodisiac. You’re above him, arms snaked once more on his shoulders and you play with the hair that rests on the nape of his neck.

The feeling of shame is not foreign to the Avatar of Pride but even then, letting you know that he is indeed aroused given the situation does bring a bit of heat to his body. His hands find their way to hold onto your hips, trying to ignore the way that you have begun to grind against his. But there is work to do and despite the growing need to pleasure both you and himself, he displaces you, ignoring the way that you call his name and can’t seem to stop touching him.

The only way to gain his attention that you desperately long for is to push him away, the wheels locking against an edge of the floor and you bend yourself over the desk. Lucifer wants to throw you out so you can be another’s problem but you pull your bottom layer off, your fingers searching inside your leaking hole and pride starts to fuel him. You touch yourself in front of him, beg for him to touch you- of course you would. Slender hands come to touch your body, and you’re already leaking onto the floor, thick, sweet arousal staining the very room that he allowed you to enter. His cock is against you, rimming around your entrance, hearing your cries and please for him to simply fuck you but you did cause him to become distracted from very important work and he is going to punish you for that.

Mammon:

Of course you’d go to him. He is your first after all, why wouldn’t you go to The Great Mammon? But wow, he was over his head when you came knocking at his door. Always eager to see and spend time with you, he allows you to enter without seeing the state you’re in. You stagger into his room, holding his hand and stumbling into him and it’s only then that he can smell the sweet, lingering aroma in the air. He wants to believe you’re just trying a new perfume and now it's made you sick, but it’s worse than that when the hand you’re holding moves to your chest. He can feel your rapid heartbeat, the way your body is in flames that can rival hellfire itself, the pained cry of his name as you try to pinch your legs together in the awkward embrace.

Frozen for a moment, Mammon completely blanks on what to do. He can feel your pain, the aching need in your entire body that makes you feel as if you’re going to combust into flames. He doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. But then you cry his name- sobbing it out in broken syllabus and you cry that it hurts and you think you might die and you're in his arms. Your hold on him tightens and he thinks he can leave you to be- let you wait out the excruciating pain in his room until the feeling fades and just thank him with attention or material objects later. He fails to consider that he is weak to you and when you look at him with teary eyes, he falters.

He stutters in his explanation, talking about how he can maybe go out and get you a toy or something- and he promises to be quick, he is the fastest after all. But then the thought lingers and he imagines your sex stretched with some toy that he chose, and his body jerks. Your vision is growing blurrier by the second and the hold on his hand tightens until your knuckles pale. You pull on him, thanking whatever God is watching down on you, that the door to the prized car he keeps in is open. Even he’s unable to know what is going on until you push him inside, crawling onto the back seat, calling his name and begging for him to join you.

In such a closed space, the Avatar of Greed is trying desperately to avoid touching you. He stays seated in the front seat, fingers drumming along the steering wheel. He cares for the car deeply- one of the few things that gives him freedom that is indescribable and yet, here you are. Your sex is leaking, your cries echoing across the closed space and what is music to his ears in his dreams is now a horrible reminder that you are seated behind him, victim to an aphrodisiac. He needs an excuse to touch you, needs to just feel you for a moment and when you threaten to stain the flawless leather seats with your slick, it’s enough for him to crawl to the back seat.

He never realized how crowded it was, how his elbows and knees tend to knock into things. He doesn’t notice how you’ve kicked your shorts off, how your underwear has become dark in color to your dripping sex. You kiss him, and Mammon is weak to you. His hands are on you, the scent overpowering and he promises to keep the touching to a minimum to only touch what you’ll let him touch and kiss where you want him to. But you’re huffing, grabbing onto him and trying to meet his crotch. The windows grow foggy, the car begins to creak but neither of you pay it any mind. It’s cramped and you’re too close but not close enough, you ache to be closer to him, to have him pressed against you until all you can remember is the way that his chest feels against your skin, the warmth of him, and the way his kisses are so tender and feverish all at once.

Leviathan:

Leviathan refuses to make eye contact with you. He won’t even address you. He sits on his desk chair, playing a game that doesn’t need half of the attention he usually gives. You rest inside his bathtub, curled over he presumes, whining and mumbling something that sounds like his name but he can't be so sure nor does he expect you to mumble his name in your current state. But as much as he wants to drown you out, he can’t. You’re too whiny, crying and begging for a solution, peeling your shirt off because it’s too hot. He reasons that’s because of the aphrodisiac because his room is always kept to a cool temperature. So now, he has you topless in his bathtub and the only proof is your shirt that was tossed where he sits and the reflection above, portraying a teasing, blurry image of your torso.

It’s possibly the worst situation for the poor, introverted demon. He finally has you all to himself and you’re in such a needy state and the plot is so close to a top tier hentai of his- Help! My Friend Took a Drug and Now They Won’t Stop Grinding on Me But I Also Don’t Want Them To Stop. But You came to him, you trusted that he would watch over you and whether it was because he kept his room so guarded or because you trust him, he really doesn’t know which. It’s just too muddled for him to believe that you would actively choose him. So, he does what he does best- he immerses himself in a game. The cutest game that he could think of- one that even if he grew and remained hard would make him feel more like a degenerate than he already does. He puts his headphones on and as if everything is trying to punish him, the loading screen takes forever.

The soundtrack plays loud, booming in his headset and effectively drowning you out. But he knows you’re still crying for him- that you're still in the same room with him. The perverted otuka glances up where he can see your reflection and he catches a glimpse of your hands cupping the swell of your chest and his face burns. Had you caught him peeking before? Was this a way for you to play with yourself without actively touching yourself? He can feel his growing arousal, translucent pre-ejaculate spilling past his slit and staining his boxers. It’s humiliating and he hates that the idea of you touching yourself in his room is more than enough for him to get in the mood.

He’s ignoring you- the only way that he can hopefully soften without actually creaming his pants. He avoids your reflection, ignores how your hands grip the curve of the tub until your knuckles pale, how you swing a leg over and it meets the hard layer of the bath, and for a moment, you still. He’s ignoring your decision to remove yourself from the place he rests and staggering to him. When he feels your hands on his thighs, he startles and the game minimizes into a small box. Unaware of what to do in this situation, he freezes, letting his body tense as you crawl onto his lap, your eyes heavy with lust and body feeling so warm above him that he’s unable to breathe.

His breathing is ragged, his hands stopping on the curve of your bum, as he’s unable to look anywhere else but your face. You’re flushed, gripping onto him, your tongue out as you pant and you’re so desperate for his attention that you lean close. His hands raise in an attempt to push you off but as if it were a cliché moment, his hands curve over your chest and you whimper his name at the simple touch. The third born should have been careful, he shouldn’t have let you grind against him and he surely shouldn’t have let himself becomes distracted by a kiss and yet, here he is, undressing himself as you greedily slide yourself onto his cock, your face scrunching up as every scale is pushed further into your aching hole. Leviathan is holding you close, the computer screen dimming as your can fill him spill inside of you.

Satan:

Eager to learn, he knows the effects of what an aphrodisiac can do to a being. So when you come knocking at Satan’s door, begging for refuge, leaning against him and gripping at his shirt, he pats your hand, and welcomes you inside. He allows you to rest on his bed, letting you bury yourself under his blankets. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for either of you- you’re inhaling his scent during a time of desperate need, and soon when the effects wear off, he’ll be left in a bed that is drenched in your scent. That, however, is a problem for another day.

In order to keep his mind and hands busy, he’ll finally organize his room. He’s able to ignore your whining, the way that you shiver under the covers and bury yourself into his pillow, how you spread your legs so they are uncovered by the blanket; he ignores the sweet scent of your arousal that fills the room and his lungs. He holds his breath, taking few, deep breaths every now and then to avoid inhaling too much of you. You’re whining, talking through the pillow about how it hurts and you just need something- and doesn’t he have a spell he can use to just rid you of at least a tiny bit of it.

It’s the growing arousal of himself and your constant whining that edges him closer to annoyance. He holds books tight in his hand, orders them by author and published years, height and volumes, but it isn’t enough to drown you out. He regrets letting you enter his room but in the same second, he regrets having the thought. He’s happy that you came to him, trusted him enough to see you in a disheveled state. He doesn’t want to scare you off or make you feel unwanted, so he edges closer to you, tugging on the bottom of his shirt as if he were a nervous boy instead of a grown demon. The bed creaks under his weight and your hand latches onto his thigh. He jerks his leg, your hand only squeezing tighter and when he makes eye contact, your eyes are filled with tears, glistening and catching on your lashes like fresh dew.

You’re aroused, deeply and sweetly. It's a nervous thing to be attracted to someone like you, a demon that has been round and born with blood and wrath etched deep into soul and yet here he is, nervous to even touch your trembling hand. He knows the effects of something as strong as an aphrodisiac and for a demon made one, there is no real spell for it. He lets you lay on his lap, your mouth close to his sex, eyes lidded and holding tight to his hand. His control is fading, his growing need pushing past logical thought. He offers himself, and you rise quickly, already straddling his lap, your chest pressed against his, asking if it is okay. A cold shiver runs through his spine and he nods, offering that he’ll take care of you.

The trembling, nervous demon fades just as quick as it came when your lips are on his. You kiss him, need so transparent that he’s teasing, pulling away, letting your back meet the bed. His smile is sharp, leaning to kiss your pursed lips, grabbing your leg and pulling it upwards, mumbling praise under his breath when you hook your leg around his waist. Satan is heavy when above you, and maybe it’s the aphrodisiac that still lingers on your tongue, but he is unwilling to move away from you, kissing you and hooking his fingers in your mouth when you moan. You’re needy and he wants to hear you beg for him, calling his name. He cups your face with spit coated fingers, asking you to be good for him and mew for him.

Asmodeus:

As the Avatar of Lust, Asmodeus immediately knew something was off in the house when he felt lust in the air. It’s sweet. Intoxicating and bitter all at once. It’s like the sweetest honey known to mankind and he knows the feeling well enough to open his door before you have the thought to knock. He welcomes you into his room, letting you rest on the bed, a small part of him on the inside crinkling when you ruffle the sheets. But, of course, he knows this isn’t you- you would never be so careless. It’s all because of the aphrodisiac making your movements more frantic.

He knows the cure to end it- sex, plain and simple. Masturbation might help but he fears your hand will become sore. Always eager to have somebody in bed with him- out of his own sin and own need for company- he offers you two choices. You can borrow a toy- new, still in the box and all- or he could take care of you. Perhaps he shouldn’t have offered the second option, he knew how excited you were to simply enter a room with another living being but he couldn’t help himself. You look absolutely adorable with your flustered face.

A kiss from the living Avatar of Lust is better than any pleasure that you’ve ever received. And he knows it. You moan under him, your body shaking and eyes rolling to the back of your head, clawing at the shirt on his back. He smiles into the kiss. So eager to be taken care of that a simple kiss was enough to make you climax, your arousal dripping onto your underwear, so heavy in the air, that he pulls away as he feels your breaths start to shorten due to lack of air. But even as he pulls away, you still reach to pepper him with kisses, your breathing reggae against his face, gasping for breath with every parting kiss.

Your hands are on him, eager to pull him into another kiss. You want him and it’s evident from the way that you don’t push away when he removes his clothing. But, he stops for a moment, watching your gaze on him, wide and dazed and you stare at him as if he was something more than just a demon, you give him your worship and you pull him into another kiss. He stiffens, pulling away and asking if this is what you want, touching your bare skin only to flinch away as if it burned him. And when your lips are on him, your smile returns for a moment, telling him that you came to him because you knew he would tend to you in any way, and he melts.

His lips return to yours, kissing you eagerly, wanting nothing more than to just keep his lips on you. And as last time, you shudder beneath him, another orgasm washing through your body, your release spilling pass your slit. Limps entangle with each other and you cry the name Asmodeus, moaning it as if it were the only thing on your mind, sobbing under him and telling him how good it feels. You pet his head and let him bury his face into our chest, peppering kisses until he reaches your neck. His eyes close, an unexpected climax teases at him, as you pull him closer to your aching body. Every sigh from you in a gentle gust of wind, every cry a song that not even choir from the Celestial Realm can rival. He pushes deep inside of you, letting you feel every curve and texture from his cock as it molds your leaking hole into his shape.

Beelzebub:

Beelzebub feels incredibly guilty when you come to him, his shirt knotted in your hands as you explain what you ate. He blames himself, going to hold you only to flinch when you hiss and pull yourself closer to him. It’s an aphrodisiac, he should have known that you’ll be more sensitive to touch during this time. He apologizes as he leads you to his bed, shaking his head and holding your hand. He’s gluttony- he should have been able to smell the scent of an aphrodisiac.

Of course, he’ll let you hide in his room until the effects wear off. He won’t make a single peep but it’s difficult for him. His clothes are sticking to him, his body is in an odd sticky situation where sex clings to him clothes and skin. He knows the effects of the aphrodisiac but he feels guilty for giving it to you so when you cling to him, begging for him to not let go of you, he sighs and stays beside you. He’s stiff, unwilling to move and can only let out a shaky breath, when you press yourself closer to him, hooking a leg over his and curling it over. He can feel your sex- hot and pulsing and he leaves ripped bedsheets as his hand curls into the comforter.

He’s rubbing your back, letting his fingers drum against your spine as he hears your panted breaths. He knows he should stop, that he should at least go and take a shower so he can at least smell good but you hold a tight grip on him. You’re feverish, burning against him and he can tell you want more, your lips open up and kiss along the side of his ribcage but he can’t move.

It’s getting too much- even for him. He doesn’t want to take advantage of this needy state that you’re in but as he rises with a feeble explanation that he’s going to take a shower, you pull him down. He’s above you, your eyes watery and cheating rising and falling with heavy breaths. He can’t kiss you but you’re leaning closer, your lips brushing against his and he can smell the aphrodisiac that still rests like heaven on your tongue. You don’t blame him for the accident slip, you’re just begging for him to take care of you, letting your hand rest over the swell of his breast and he’s growing weaker by the second.

When your lips are on his, your tongue slipping past your lips, Beelzebub can taste the aphrodisiac and he’s melting. His tongue has made its home on your mouth, curving over your pink muscle and feeling the way you shudder beneath him. His name is muted by the kiss, your hands clawing at his clothing and he’s sweaty and aroused, watching you as you strip yourself of your clothes. The lovely pastry that still lingers isn’t enough for him to go into a full rut, but it’s enough for him to bend your legs to your chest, your hole pulsing as his cock aligns to it. The way that you call his name is enough for him to push himself fully into you.

Belphegor:

Belphegor is asleep under the covers, pillow tucked under his head and he does not awaken to your scent growing closer and closer, heavier and sweeter than usual. He doesn’t awaken when the doorknob wiggles, a frantic turning but he does awaken when you slam the door. He is startled awake, his eyes wide for a second before narrowing, teeth flashing as he lets out a low growl. He stops when he notices it's you, yawning and telling you to get into bed with him. It’s only until you’re beside him, greedily taking the invitation, that he realizes the state you’re in.

He has to prod you until you tell him what’s happened, watching as you bury your face into a pillow, whining out pathetically as you tell him what happened. He laughs, it’s sharp and teasing. Of course, you took an aphrodisiac by accident. It could only happen to you. He tries to be sympathetic with you. He knows you must be in a great deal of pain, but then again you came to him and that makes him stay awake for a bit longer, turning over on his side and watching you struggle to not touch yourself despite the aroma of your arousal that is thick in the room.

Sloth offers to put you under a deep sleep- he can’t promise that you’ll be still- but he can promise that you’ll wake up without the effects of the aphrodisiac. When you refuse, he merely shrugs, turning over with a pout. He’s disappointed but he can’t do much. He does tell you that he is tired, so he’ll be sleeping but you’re allowed to spend the rest of your heightened arousal in the attic with him. The power of an aphrodisiac- one made a devil no less- is strong, and giving it you in even worse. He can sense the neediness in you, the way you watch him with lustful eyes, your mouth parted the eagerness to get into bed with him.

As promised, he slips off into a sleep, leaving you alone. But your body is on his, legs parted with his single leg. He isn’t asleep long enough for him to be in an actual slumber before he feels the bed move ever so slightly. It’s constant and your whining, mumbling apologies and he opens his eyes to find you humping his leg. It’s pathetic and hot all at once, watching you get off on his leg alone, so desperate for release that you’ve succumbed to humping him. His smile is tight, turning over and letting his tail curl around you, the static in the air only causing you to arch your back when his demon form pops out. It pricks against your wrists, the fur unkempt as he rises above you.

You wanted his attention and now you’ve gotten it. You’ve woken him up from nap, it’s normal and expected for him to be grouchy but thank goodness that the smell from your leaking sex is more arousing that anything else he’s encountered. You’re on your knees on the mattress, his hips meeting yours and letting out a loud grunt when he finishes. He’s tired and over it but his cock still stands upright and you’re still needy and awake, your sex leaking with his arousal. Belphegor will lay on his back, offer himself in his sleep to you until you’re content. The last coherent thought he has is sighing at how warm and squishy you feel against him.

[buckys-black-dress]

see through

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

a/n: i dont have much to say other than that it's 1 am and i needed to get this out of my system. chapter 4 of play the game is underway, i promise. also, there will be a pov switch in this fic!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. = POV change!

wc: 4.1k words

[ neighbor!bucky barnes x fem!reader ]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

-

Every Friday night, without fail, you saw the light filter into your apartment.

Notice how you said night?

Yeah, it was almost two in the morning, by the way.

And why was there light coming through the chiffon curtains you had hanging on the rod above your window?

(Great choice on your part, by the way.)

Well, because of your neighbor.

You've seen him a few times, actually. Usually on the street outside your buildings, or just out and about. Never spoke to him, though. He was quiet, kept to himself. Didn't seem very friendly or willing to exchange a greeting if he ever saw you.

But you never took it personally. Maybe he was having a bad day. Every time you saw him.

But that's besides the point. The point right now is that you can see the lights blaring in your room. From the apartment across from yours.

Should it even be possible for light to travel that far? I mean, we don't even live in the same building. You think to yourself as you watch the colors dance in the dark.

You debate getting up and yelling out your window to tell him to shut that shit off or to invest in some blackout curtains. You were tired of sacrificing your sleep every week.

But then you decided against it, because you quite frankly could not be bothered to get up from the warmth of your bed. You'd tough it out for the night, but the next time you saw him, you'd have a few words for him.

-

The next morning, it was almost ten when you woke up. You didn't have your shift at the coffee shop you worked at until three, so you took your time in making your way out of bed.

You noticed the curtains of your neighbor's apartment were still open, but you could see his figure moving across the room. He was clearly on the phone with someone, and he didn't look too happy. You wondered what could have him so angry at such an early time of the morning. He seemed like a person who could use someone to talk to, someone who he could vent to.

But before you let your thoughts get ahead of you, you turn away from the window, heading back into your kitchen to eat breakfast and get ready for the long day ahead of you.

-

"Hi, what can I get started for you today?" You ask as brightly as you can muster at the moment. You were halfway through your shift, another three hours until close.

"Uh, just a large black coffee." The gruff voice says, and it takes you a second until you look up and look closely.

It was him.

"O-okay, that'll be $3.27." You say, and he hands you a five dollar note before grumbling,

"Keep the change."

"Thanks, and your name?"

He gives you a look that's asking, 'what the fuck do you need my name for?'

"For the order." You try and salvage your dignity, because it feels like the stare shrunk you to a speck of dust.

"James."

That's all he all but growls before turning back to find a seat.

As your coworker takes over the cash register, you grab the biggest cup and fill it with his desired coffee.

You try to not think about it too much, but the anxiety you feel rising up inside you and just calling his name to give him his coffee feels absolutely ridiculous.

"Are you just gonna stare at the cup or give it to the customer?" The voice of your coworker, Jenna, rings in your ears and you look up at her, snapping out of the trance you were in.

"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it today, I guess."

"Everything alright?" She asks, and you nod.

"I'm fine, it's just... that's my neighbor." You nod your head towards where James is sat, in the corner by the window as he watches the raindrops run down the expanse of the glass.

"The one who doesn't let you sleep?"

"Yeah, but I don't think he'd take it too kindly if I tell him about that. He seems to have a lot on his own plate anyways," You explain, and she just nods.

"Well, that sucks, but you still need ta' give the guy his coffee." Jenna smiles and walks back to what she was doing before.

You gently slide out from your spot behind the counter and walk to his table.

"Here's your coffee, James. Enjoy, and- uh, let me know if you'd like anything else." You tell him while placing the steaming cup in front of him.

He murmurs a thank you that you barely catch, but you don't quite have the time to sit and wait for more of a reaction.

For the next several hours, James sits right where he was. He doesn't do anything in particular, either. He just watches outside, as the rain continues to pelt down on New York City, and as people come and go from where they were.

Eventually, about an hour left until close, you offer another cup of coffee.

"Do you want a refill? On the house." You ask gently, waiting to see if you'll get brushed off again.

"Uh... are you allowed to do stuff like that?" He asks, and you're a bit taken aback at the sudden concern.

"I don't think you should worry yourself too much, James. Free coffee's free coffee." You smile lightly, and grab the cup before filling it up without his confirmation. You could tell he wanted to say yes but didn't want to seem rude.

"You didn't have to..." He grumbles, and you simply shake your head.

"I know, but you've been here a while, and what kind of employee would I be if I let a customer sit here without any sustenance?" Your lips ply into a tiny smirk, trying to get him to loosen up a bit.

He seems so guarded, defensive. Like any moment, he's ready to run if need be, you inspect to yourself.

"You'd just be a regular employee, Y/N." He says, but the way he says your name makes a shiver run down your spine; and you can't tell if it's a good or bad one.

You unconsciously look down at your name tag, pinned to your black apron that's branded with the café's logo.

"Well, I felt like being nice. I hope you can deal." Your voice comes out short, but he knows you mean no harm.

As you walk back to the counter, you see a small smile playing on his lips, but he doesn't allow it to manifest on his face. You take that as a small victory for your last hour of work.

(bucky's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The girl who works at this café is annoying.

But she's got a nice smile. And she's nice to me, Bucky thinks to himself.

He sips on the new coffee you'd just poured for him, without his consent, he thinks bitterly.

But it was a nice gesture.

Why can't you just take a nice gesture?

Because your brain's been scrambled eggs for 70 years. You don't know what to think about anything these days.

He watches you fiddle with the espresso maker, cleaning it with a rag, which you then dip into a bucket.

You look extremely familiar to him, but he can't exactly pin where he's seen you before.

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, trying to recall where he'd seen you, but for a moment, he comes up with nothing.

Ever since he's been living back in the real world, he hasn't been outside too much.

He goes on the occasional walk, or goes to the tower to see Steve and Sam.

But other than that, he spends a lot of time in his Brooklyn apartment. He watches movies that Steve suggests, or he invites Steve and Sam over to have beer and watch TV with him.

He hates how lonely it gets, though.

Bucky wishes that he had someone.

Someone who could understand.

And don't get him wrong, he loves Sam and Steve. They fill in the gaps in his days, and they make them better.

Sometimes, thinking about having something to do that day is what makes it. He likes having something to do, something to plan for for when his friends come over.

But it feels like a teeny, tiny part of his life is missing. A person shaped-hole in his heart.

But Bucky doesn't spend too long thinking about it, or it'll send him into a spiral about failure and how he needs to 'push himself to get out there more.'

Or that's what his therapist says.

"Hey, we're about to close, and we usually throw the pastries out at the end of the day. Do you wanna take these home, by any chance?" Your voice rings in his ears, snapping him out of the impending slippery slope of his lack of love life.

He hesitates to answer for a second, looking at the brown paper bag pinched between your fingers.

Bucky can tell you were nervous when you spoke to him. He knew he made you uneasy, and it killed him inside.

He hated that. He just wanted to have a normal conversation with someone. But everyone seems to know who he is.

Who he was.

"Uh, what is it?" He croaks, unsure of what to say at your gesture.

"It's a few cookies and a chocolate croissant."

"Sure, I'll take 'em." Bucky simply answers, watching as you hand the bag over with a soft smile and watches you walk back.

You sweep up the floor and put up all the chairs, except for the one Bucky's sitting on. You leave his table alone, and bid farewell to your coworker who was scheduled to close with you.

Bucky doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he gets up after he sees you walk out the door, and follows you home.

Damn, if you like a girl, you usually ask for her number or somethin'. Not follow her home to make sure she's safe, you idiot. Bucky's inner voice speaks and sometimes, he wishes it would just shut up because he knows he has no game nowadays, but this is all he knows to do.

He realizes the way you're walking is familiar, and not at all of the way he was supposed to be going. That made him feel a little better, less like a creep. He's about half a block behind you, and when you turn onto the same street he lives on, he's really confused.

Did you know he was behind you? Are you trying to play a trick on him?

But before Bucky can speak up or say something, you walk right past his building, and into the one right next to it.

All of a sudden, images of you right on the street in front of your buildings flash through his head. He's seen you because you're his neighbor. Bucky's seen you right there, getting ready to start your run through the neighborhood, or probably on your way to work, now that he's seen where you work.

But he feels like there's somewhere else he's seen you; somewhere familiar.

He shakes his head, wondering why he's so caught up in you. He thought you were beautiful, but he feels a pull to you that he's never felt with anyone else before.

Bucky's hands move to unlock his door, sliding the key in and twisting the lock open.

He enters, staring at his dark apartment. It's moments like this, when he spends a long day alone, that he wishes there was someone.

Someone to come home to, to hug, to kiss, to share dinner with.

Some to fall asleep with at night. Someone to keep the terrors of the dark away.

But there was no one.

And then his mind thought back to you. Your hair, your face, your warm hands that touched his while you passed him the brown paper bag of treats.

Bucky wishes he was man enough to ask you out. Not even that, just to talk to you. Have a normal conversation, to get to know you.

But that wasn't in the cards for him anytime soon, he thinks.

For now, he focuses on taking things one at a time. And right now, all he wanted was a nice, warm shower and to get at least three hours of sleep tonight.

He's in his room, forgoing the lights for now, before he looks out his window.

For a moment, he believes his eyes are playing tricks on him.

There's absolutely no way that you are standing right there, right outside his window.

Well, in your own apartment, of course.

And there's absolutely no way in hell that Bucky is watching you undress right now.

As soon as you pull off your top, Bucky turns around before he could get more than a peek of your black lace bra, and he feels a burn in the pit of his stomach.

He can't tell if it's shame, guilt, or arousal.

(y/n's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn't stop thinking about James all day.

After yesterday, you wondered why you couldn't shake this feeling about him.

He'd made it quite clear that he's not a people person. Or maybe he just wasn't a you person.

But again, you tried to not take things too personally these days.

Sometimes, you wondered, though, as you looked through your bedroom window to his some nights.

You imagined what it would be like, watching one of those movies with him at night. Making dinner with him. Having coffee in the mornings before work, wondering what he did for a living.

You chastise yourself for your thoughts, thinking that you were crazy for these ideas you were coming up with out of nowhere.

As you pull off your clothes to get ready for bed, you feel the same emptiness fill your heart when your head hits the pillow, and another day has gone by where you're all alone.

-

The next day, your shift was at ten in the morning so you were up early.

You took your time in rolling out of bed. The warmth of your duvet was holding you down, and you couldn't help take a peek out your window.

You see that the room facing yours is finally housing a body in the bed. In all the time you'd been living across him, you've only seen him on the floor.

You feel a warm flutter at that. Whatever reason led him to actually sleep in the bed last night was, you hope you played a role in it.

-

You make your way to the café, and although walking in the rain wasn't ideal, you made it, somehow.

You clock in and head to the register, ready to take the millions of orders that come in through the day.

"Hi- oh! Welcome back. What can I get you?" Your tone of voice made it clear you were surprised, but was trying to not let it show.

"Uhm, just the same as yesterday, and... Can I get a chocolate croissant?" Bucky's gruff voice tells you.

You ring him up, wondering if you should say something about him being your neighbor. Although, he didn't seem too keen on looking you in the eye right now, and you wonder if you did something to make him uncomfortable yet again.

He seems to have this issue quite often.

Little do you know, this time, it isn't because of you or anything you did.

Well, nothing you did on purpose.

Nothing you were aware of at the time.

Anyways, you tell James to go take a seat and that you'd be right out with his order.

"Here you go, James," you place the plate and mug on the table, and this time, when you hear him say something, you turn around with furrowed brows.

"Sorry, I didn't catch what you said." You apologize, waiting for him to repeat himself.

"I- nevermind, it was stupid anyways. You probably have to get back to work." He mumbles while looking back down at his pastry.

"James, whatever it is, you can tell me." You offer with a kind smile. "I can come sit with you during my break, if you don't mind?" A hopeful smile crosses your face.

"Uh, I- yes, yeah, that would be nice." He struggles for a moment, but finally nods his head in confirmation along with his words.

"Alright, James. I get off in an hour for my break." You simply tell him with a soft grin, and you can practically feel his eyes burning into you as you walk away.

The blush creeping up your cheeks also stays there until the remainder of your shift.

-

As you plop in the chair across from James, you inspect him for a moment.

He was attractive, you'll admit.

Okay, he was more than attractive.

"So, James, where are you from?" You ask, your own cup of coffee in front of you on the table.

"Well, I'm Brooklyn born 'nd raised. Never was a time I didn't live here. You?" His lip twitches, looking out the window fondly.

"That's nice. I moved here when I was nine, so I guess I've been here a while. But no matter where I go, there's nowhere like home." You smile.

"There really isn't, huh? This place is irreplaceable." He gives you a crack of another smile, and you find yourself yearning for more from him. Just a tooth, something.

"Well, do you live around here?" You ask, deciding to play coy. You wanted to see what he'd say.

"Uh, yeah, actually. Over on DeKalb and Clinton." He clears his throat, the hint of a smile on his face melting right off.

"Huh, that's so funny. I live on those streets too." You grin, waiting to see his reaction.

"O-Oh really?" James doesn't really know what to say without giving away that he knows where you fucking live.

"Yeah, isn't that funny? Which building?" You're pressing, and you know he knows, but you're having your fun right now.

"T-the uhm... I live in the Washington." He's now making zero eye contact with you, and you're close to breaking.

"What a coincidence! I live in the Oakley!" You're in a fit of giggles when his face drops, you just can't help it anymore.

"James, can I tell you something?" You ask in a coquettish manner.

"Yeah, I suppose you'll tell me even if I say no." He gives a tight smile as a joke.

"I don't wanna sound like a creep, but I knew you lived in the Washington."

"Oh," James releases a breath of relief, "thank God. I knew you lived in the Oakley, but I didn't wanna sound like a stalker either." He says.

You laugh, sliding a hand on top of his resting on the table.

"Y'know, you do this really annoying thing where you leave your movies running on full brightness on your TV, and I can see it through my windows at night." You laugh at the incredulity of the situation.

"Oh... I never even thought of that. I'm sorry, Y/N." He looks genuinely remorseful, and now you feel bad for any bad thought you've had about the man that lives across from you.

"It's alright. No big deal." Your smile does a good job of convincing Bucky that you truly weren't bothered by his actions, but he still felt bad.

"Y'know, maybe I could make it up to you?" He asks, and you feel a blush moving up your chest. "Like, maybe over dinner?" His voice is timid, you can tell by the way he tilts his head down while speaking.

"James," you slide your hand into his this time, your smaller one resting in his large metal one. "I'd love to go out with you sometime."

Before he could react, you stood up from the chair.

"My break's over, but I get off at 3." You lean down and pull a pen from your apron, scribbling your number onto a napkin. "Here."

You walk away before he could say anything, but there's something about him this time that you notice.

He's blushing, too. And he's smiling. A bright, white, blinding smile.

You think of that smile throughout your whole shift, until you see he's still waiting for you when it's time to go.

"So, do you like Chinese or Italian better?" He asks with a crooked smile.

-

bonus scene:

six months later

You and Bucky are laid across your bed, the TV blaring a movie that neither of you are paying attention to. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg thrown over both of his, and his hand running through your hair.

"You wanna know somethin' doll?" Bucky asks, and you feel his chest rumble under your head.

"Yeah, everything okay?" You ask while leaning up on your elbow to get a good look at him, trying to gauge his mood.

"Everything's okay, just remembered something." He laughs, his hand moving to hold your jaw in it. You shivered at the touch, but smiled fondly at the action.

"When I first saw you at the coffee shop, that first day when you gave the free coffee and pastries... I followed you home."

Your brows furrow and it's clear that you were confused as to why.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safe, and then it turned out that you lived right next to me. So I went up to my apartment and wondered what I'd done right in a past life to have you live right next to me, and then I saw you lived right across from me." His face was tipped upwards, like he was replaying that night in his head.

"You followed me home just to make sure I was safe?" You asked in disbelief that he did something so nice for you, when at the time you thought he hated you.

"Of course, sweetheart. It was dark out and there 're some real jerks out there, y'know." One corner of his mouth lifts up in a soft smirk. "Didn't want anything to happen to ya."

You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, appreciating his gesture.

"I really thought you didn't like me back then, so this is a nice little secret you've been hiding from me." You giggle when he pulls you back in for a real kiss.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I could'a hated you if I tried, baby. You're too sweet. And at the time, I was still getting used to being out in the open without being a national security threat." You both laugh lightly, dropping your head down.

A moment passes where you bask in his words, letting them soak in. And then a thought hits you, and you can't help but become more curious. Now you need to know the answer.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, hon." Now Bucky's brows are pulled together, and you reach up and smooth out the wrinkle with your thumb.

"Did you ever... see me doing anything in here? Like, I usually keep the curtains open, and even if they're closed, they're pretty see-through..." You trail off, giving him time to craft his response.

You have a feeling you know the answer, considering how he turns red like a tomato in an instant as words leave your lips.

"I... there was this one time, but I swear, I wasn't trying to peep on you or anything, it was the same day I followed you and I just so happened to look into your window, and you were getting undressed, but I swear, I turned away as soon as I saw what you were doing, baby-" He was rambling, trying to save himself from sounding like a complete creep after all he's just told you.

"Did you like it?" You ask, innocently, but he knew what you were trying to do.

"I-I- You were getting undressed, sweetheart, of course I liked it... are you kidding me?" Bucky's grasping for the words, trying to make you understand.

"Well... we could always recreate it, but maybe in the same apartment this time?" You cock your head to the side, your doe eyes stirring a feeling in his abdomen.

"I think that's an excellent idea, honey." Bucky's hands grasp your waist as you slide on top of his lap. "After all, I am a hands on learner."

-

fin. i hope you enjoyed!

[clairenatural]

i had a dream that sam and dean took cas to an art museum and showed him all these paintings of angels and it was like that scene in vincent and the doctor and cas said these paintings are beautiful because they depict the angels as human when a true angel could never be described as anything but monstrous and i woke up crying

anon i love this SO much. i love it so much i had to write it. this is 1.4k, destiel, human!cas

They’re making their way out of the city, monster killed and day saved, when Castiel sees a poster, pasted up on the side of the plywood wall of a construction site. It’s an angel—he doesn’t recognize the artist, but he’d guess late 19th century. Be Not Afraid: a History of Angels in Art, it proclaims, the logo of the city’s largest art gallery tucked into the corner.

Castiel stares at it. The angel on the poster stares back, wings spread and staff raised. Valiant. Something in his heart twitches, but it’s hard to place. He still has his blade, tucked safely into the trunk with the rest of their frequently used weapons, and he never had wings like that; even the shadows, the ones they showed to humans, were simply the closest representation to the real thing possible in this dimension (his back aches anyway, dimly, his human body reacting to the loss as if they were real severed appendages. He ignores it).

Dean notices, because of course he does. He stops, because of course he does, and flags Sam down before his long legs can carry him too far ahead. “Hey. You good?”

Castiel isn’t sure how long he’s been staring at the poster, but it’s long enough that Dean is obviously concerned. “Hm? Oh. Yes, I’m—I’m fine.”

Dean nods but doesn’t move. He considers the poster. “Art gallery, huh?” he asks, avoiding the obvious elephant. Castiel appreciates it. He nods back.

“I’ve never been to one,” he offers, as explanation. It seems odd—he can remember the painting of the Sistine Chapel, he remembers watching with fascination as humans began collecting the smaller paintings into collections and museums, but he’d never been inside one. It hadn’t seemed necessary. Humans collect art in large boxes to remember their history, but Castiel has seen it all.

Dean seems surprised by this. “Seriously?” Castiel nods, and there’s a pause, and he’s about to turn and keep heading towards the car, and Kansas, and home, when Dean claps him on the shoulder and turns to call over his own.

“Sammy! How do you feel about seeing some art?”

“You want to go to an art gallery?” Sam sounds incredulous, and is closer behind him than Cas expected. He hadn’t noticed him retreat the half-block he’d managed to gain on them.

“Yeah, why not? Come on. What happened to ‘a little culture wouldn’t hurt, Dean?’”

"What happened to ‘I’ve got plenty of culture, eat your damn burger?’”

“It’ll be fun, Sam,” Dean counters. Something in his tone has changed. Cas doesn’t think too hard about it.

There’s a long pause, and Cas knows there’s some sort of communication happening he can’t hear or see. “…Okay,” Sam concedes. “Okay, sure. Yeah. Let’s go.”

So they do.

Dean makes a comment about “haven’t been in one of these since I was a kid,” before they all fall into the hushed silence of the museum floor. It’s nice—nicer than Castiel had expected. Not in aesthetics; the building is sleek, and modern, and the art is obviously beautiful. But it’s nice to be there. It feels almost Holy—humans, funny creatures they are, with their habit of treating their own culture with the respect of something divine. Creating houses of worship out of museums and libraries and living rooms. 

He wanders through the various exhibits but doesn’t really pay attention until he ends up in the exhibit from the poster. He’d managed to lose the Winchesters halfway through the photography exhibit, when both the brothers had gotten distracted. Castiel had continued onward anyway, on a mission, and by the time he finds himself walking into the angel exhibit he’s on his own.

He comes to a stop in front of one of the largest paintings in the room. It’s not the same angel as the poster. It’s several, actually, looking over what appears to be Mary and a baby Jesus. The angels are beautiful—smooth, flawless skin. They have long hair that looks soft, even in paint. They’re wearing white robes, and their wings are white and dove-like. None of these angels have several heads, rotating bands of fire, or thousands of eyes. They’re beautiful, but they aren’t angels. The human who painted this didn’t know that, of course—none of them did. Humanity was faced with the concept of divinity and conceptualized it as a version of itself.

“The real things ain’t as cuddly, huh?”

Dean’s voice startles him, which he hates, both because he hates being startled and because he’s still adjusting to Dean being able to sneak up on him.

“I was just thinking,” he starts, pretending he’d known Dean was there the whole time, “you paint us like we’re human.” Not ‘us’ anymore, he reminds himself, but he brushes that thought off. Not now.

Beside him, Dean snorts. “Yeah, well. If you’d told any of those Renaissance guys that the real angels are dickhead balls of celestial intent, they’d’ve arrested you for heresy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “No.” he pauses. “Well, yes. But that’s—” he turns to face Dean for the first time. He notices Sam over Dean’s shoulder, focusing intently on a painting a few feet away and obviously pretending not to listen.

“My father—God—Chuck,” he cycles through, which will never not be weird, “created us first, but not in his image. We weren’t worthy of that. Only you were. Humans, his perfect creation, modeled after their creator. But then—” he turns back to the painting and gestures to it. “You created us in your image. You thought about divinity and you couldn’t conceive anything more Holy than yourselves.”

Dean shifts. He tries for a laugh, but it comes out short. “Well, damn, Cas. Way to make a guy feel self-centered.”

Castiel turns back to him. He blinks. He frowns. That’s not what he means. “Most of my siblings thought so,” he agrees. “But I always thought it was an honor. Look,” He turns again and reaches out for the painting, only remembering a few inches from its surface to not touch it.  “This one has a lyre. You always paint us playing music. But music, art….these are human things, Dean.” He lets his hand fall, but keeps his eyes forward.  “We’re soldiers. They don’t teach us to play the harp in Heaven, they train us to fight. But these angels are…soft. Kind. Angels you trust to protect. The kind of angels people pray to, build churches to.” He looks back at Dean, who is staring at him with a frown. He holds his gaze, steady, and takes a deep breath before finishing. “I wish I was—that any of us were—worthy of being depicted this way. I wish we were the angels you paint us as.”

There’s a long pause while Dean searches his face, obviously trying to decide on the right reaction. If they were at home, Cas thinks Dean might reach out and hug him. Instead, Dean reaches out to clap a hand on his shoulder—he lets it linger there, and Cas knows what it means, so that’s okay, too. “For what it’s worth,” he starts, and his voice is softer than the last time he spoke. “You’re the closest thing to those angels that I’ve ever seen.”

It’s a nice sentiment, but Cas smiles sadly as he turns back to the painting. “I’m not any kind of angel anymore,” he points out, and tries his hardest to keep his voice neutral.

Dean squeezes his shoulder and tilts his head, trying to recapture Castiel’s gaze. “Hey. Look at me.” Reluctantly, he looks back over. “Your wings weren’t what made you a good angel, alright?” he brings his other hand up to poke into Castiel’s chest. “That was all in here.”

He sounds like he’s quoting the Wizard of Oz, and Cas wants to make a joke about that, but he’s also never wanted to kiss Dean more. He doesn’t, because they’re in a museum, and they’re still working up to that, but he makes a note to do it later. Instead, he reaches up and pulls Dean’s hand away from his chest, links it in his own, and squeezes.

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s earnest, and it’s for everything.

Dean smiles. He understands. He squeezes back.