#wooing woodland women

[catalisst]

[yoki-doki-then]

FFXIV Write 2024 - T A K E N

“Do you think Halone and Nophica are rivals in a, well, more-than-rivals way?”

“Theuchet, I'd expect that from our fellows, but yourself? Come on. You're supposed to be as docile as they come.”

Two younger members of Ishgard's vaunted military body, the temple knights, sit across from one another for a meal. Their chainmail, shiny and new, glistens in the faint flames of nearby lanterns. The aroma of smoked meat joins with well-seasoned vegetables. The faint grinding of silver on stone hums underneath the chorus of voices in the eatery, as one of the pair slides salt from their shared pillar.

“I'm simply stating an errant thought, and I figured you'd be equipped to dispel it. I've met... passionately combative women in the past. Men and more too, of course, but I suppose my mind falls upon one singular person.” Theuchet swallows a well-cut cube of rare meat, garlic butter making the tender flesh sing. “Are we certain they're enemies? They share a pantheon. Would we not be at arms with Gridania if we were to take their rivalry in a seriously bitter fashion?”

“Do you want to go wood wailing?”

“I could. I might.” The man hadn't been to Gridania. He hadn't even left the borders of his native nation. Still, there was an image in his mind of the folks from there. Soft of heart, filled with sage wisdom, and probably carrying a basket predominantly of squash. Why... why squash? “And what if I did?”

“You'd be a shame to your family, of course.” His companion says this with a slight chuckle, elbows on the counter as he leans on his food. Already, the barely-older man's gaze drifts to their server, and he scratches at his stubble.

“Are you going to educate me on shameful conduct, Leoix?”

“You've dogged at my heels since you first signed up for the order. I'm sure you picked up a thing or two.”

“Well, let me turn your question back on you. Would you wed a woodly waif?”

“... I would not marry, Theu.”

“Date? Woo? Pursue?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“But you wouldn't...”

“No.” Leoix sighs. “There'd be too much trouble for it.”

“But the idea of the trouble, there's something... fun about that, no?” The younger man leans forward, fork idly jabbing at the neck of an asparagus stalk.

“Theu. No. It's not about that.”

“Then what?”

“I like attractive people. I take them into my life for a night. I discard them.”

“So, what if Halone and Nophica feel that way about one another, and theirs is a dance of on-and-off again? And that's why they're rivals? They both entice and shun the other, again and again.”

“They're gods. Holy figures. They don't... I-”

“You're taking my line of thought too quickly. This is just dinner chatter, Leoix.”

“I apologize for taking your blasphemy seriously.”

Theuchet smiles. “Appreciated.”

“Maybe you can ask your family to find you a woodlander so you can stop dodging your other 'courtly duties'.”

“I'd put in a good word for you if I did.”

“Pfeh. A bachelor's life is for me.”

“... Aye. Maybe that's for the best.”

The lads smile at one another, and promptly get back to their food. Mead is slammed, meat is gorged, and the Moon glowers her frustration at them both.

[sinjaangels]

Out of the revered Great Seven, the one known as Hades was a god. The god of the underworld, the overseer of afterlife and its souls. As great as Hades in his diligence looking over the souls, there are other gods known to the world. Nations across the world all have their own deities while acknowledging the powers of other nations. The most recognized are the Olympian gods. Their magic were the most powerful of deities. Many stories of their incredible magic had shaped the world, for better or worse. The most impactful stories are of dramatic interactions amongst themselves and mortals that are told still to the present day.

One of these awesome stories featured the Goddess of the hunt, nature, and chastity, Artemis. Artemis was an avid hunter and defended nature, children, and women. She swore to remain chaste, a virgin goddess. Not even goddess Aphrodite with the magic to encourage romantic love would sway Artemis. Both gods and mortals had fallen for the goddess and tried to woo. Some took their love for her too far and would actually chase the goddess. Artemis would run for many days from her suitors. She had even taken the form of animals, rocks, trees, and even a pond to escape the passion of others.

In the spirit of Artemis’ dedication to remaining chaste, a romantic and sporty holiday was created in her honor.

The Day of Chastity, during those ancient times, in Artemis’ honor had young virgin women flee from men. The men, the suitors, chase down the women. Those that are captured are married off to the one who had caught them. Others who managed to remain free until sunset are given the highest honor and are rewarded with a bountiful harvest.

As the times change, the holiday has evolved to be lighter in spirit! For the fun of it! It is celebrated across Twisted Wonderland and changed based on cultures and races.

 How to Play:

-         One or more “Artemis” can be women or men (volunteers).

-         One or more suitors.

-         Artemis (if capable) are allowed to use magic.

-         Suitors (if capable) are allowed to use magic.

-         “Artemis” is not to be severely harmed. Do not harm on purpose!

 NRC rules:

-         One Artemis. Can use magic and other means to elude suitors as a “goddess”.

-         Woodland creatures (first years) protect Artemis. Non-magical, no magic, will be given tools.

o   Rabbit: equipped with power gloves and boots.

o   Skunk: equipped with stink bombs and water soaker guns

o   Chipmunk: equipped with nut launchers.

o   Raccoon: equipped with net launchers.

o   Turtle: equipped with shields, blocks magic and physical attacks.

-         Deer familiars (first years) protect Artemis. Can use magic being “blessed” by the “goddess”. Can use a special spell. One use only. Can transform to imitate Artemis.

-         Suitors (second and third years) pursue Artemis.

-         Suitors have until sunset to find and capture Artemis.

Prizes:

-         Extra PE credit for participation.

-         Artemis and her Woodland Creatures and Familiars win, a day of festivities in Sage Town (all expenses paid).

-         Only one suitor can win. If successful in capturing Artemis, they win a full-day of romance with Artemis (all expenses paid).

Players:

Alice – Artemis

Ace – Deer

Deuce – Rabbit

Jack – Raccoon

Epel – Skunk

Sebek – Turtle

Grim – Chipmunk

 

Cards:

Part One:

SSR – Alice

Summoning line – “I will truly honor the goddess, Artemis! Catch me, if you can!”

Groovy line – “It was fun while it lasted! I’m ready for the festival!”

Home idle 1 – “I usually don’t pay attention to social norms; But, there’s something about this holiday and its origins that make me… uncomfortable?”

Home idle 2 – “Read about how the fae celebrated the Day of Chastity. Did you know that their chases last for days!?”

Home idle 3 – “Grim was so upset about being a Chipmunk! Hahaha, until he saw his assigned weapon!”

Home Tap 1 – “Wow! Ace is taking his duty as my familiar seriously!”

Home Tap 2 – “Deuce is so cute with his little rabbit ears! Oh gosh! The bunny tail!”

Home Tap 3 – “Hmmm, I have to keep an eye out for Sebek… he may allow Malleus to catch me. I hope so!”

Home Tap 4 – “Jade said Floyd participated in the Day of Chastity! He only played to catch and release! Hahaha, what a heartbreaker!”

Home Tap 5 – “Hey! Are you trying to catch me? You have to try harder than that!”

Home Tap Groovy – “Do you want to be my suitor~?”

 SR – Ace

Summoning line – “Get ready! I got all sorts of tricks!”

Groovy line –  “There’s no way, I am letting the likes of you get close to her!”

Home idle 1 – “Heh, heh! Alice was really grouchy about being chosen to be Artemis!”

Home idle 2 – “Do I have to wear the tail?”

Home idle 3 – “Pffft, hahaha, Deuce looked so ridiculous with his ears and that cottontail! Hahaha!”

Home tap 1 – “I don’t want to face Rook! I’ll leave him to Epel!”

Home tap 2 – “I bet thaumarks Sebek would let his precious Malleus catch Alice!”

Home tap 3 – “Heheh, you think I’ll let you catch up to her! Bring it on!”

Home tap 4 – “Geez! Why couldn’t Floyd had lounged around like he did halfway through Bean Fest!”

Home tap 5 – “Hey! Grim! Watch where you’re firing those nuts!”

Home tap Groovy – “Whoa, Alice is… Alice is….”

 R – Grim

Summoning line – “Don’t worry, henchmen! Your boss is going to protect you!”

Groovy line – “Fear me! The Great and Powerful Grim! Eat this!”

Home idle 1 – “Heh, check it out! I look cool don’t I? Why are you giggling?”

Home idle 2 – “Why are the woodland creatures are cute and fuzzy! Why couldn’t we be wolves, bears, or something scary!?”

Home idle 3 – “Myah! That weird guy in the hat has a scary look in his eye!”

Home tap 1 – “A little worried about my henchmen. She’s been giggling and mumbling under her breath.”

Home tap 2 – “Hey, hey! Stop poking my cheeks! I’m not really a chipmunk!”

Home tap 3 – “Heeeey, do you have a snack on ya’! I’m starving while in hiding in this bush!”

Home tap 4 – “Who died and made Ace the leader!?”

Home tap 5 – “W-what was that in the trees!?”

Home tap Groovy – “I’ll protect you!”

 Part Two:

SSR – Rook

Summoning line – Run, my sweet doe, run! Make this chase one we’ll remember all our lives!”

Groovy line – “The thrill of the hunt! The passion of the heart! Ah, takes my breath away and my heart race!”

Home idle 1 – “The Goddess of the Hunt, Artemis! Such love and devotion to her craft!”

Home idle 2 – “Oh! For a moment, I had forgotten I was a hunter! I was taken in by the grace and form of Alice in flight!”

Home idle 3 – “I thought Bean Fest would be the highlight of my college years! Glad to be wrong!”

Home tap 1 – “Do not be upset, my ‘Artemis’. You’re the perfect goddess for this hunt!”

Home tap 2 – “The speed, the determination, the muscles at work! Roi du Leon is a true hunter!”

Home tap 3 – “En garde, little Woodland Creature!”

Home tap 4 – “Overheard Roi de ta Chambre mumbling to himself the impossibility of him catching ‘Artemis’! Ah, l’amore!”

Home tap 5 – “What a thrill to be facing off against my Beautiful Vil once again!”

Home tap Groovy – “I have found you, my goddess! Let the true hunt begin!”

 SR – Leona

Summoning line – “You think you can escape me? Heh, I assure you, I am a true hunter!”

Groovy line – “No more running. The hunt ends here!”

Home idle 1 – “Tch, Coach Vargas using Alice to get us to participate. If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be apart of this lame holiday.”

Home idle 2 – “Heh, first time seeing Alice bothered.”

Home idle 3 – “…Jack in his dumb woodland creature costume. Should of just stayed as himself. Whatever.”

Home tap 1 – “During Bean Fest, Alice and I were on the same team. Glad for the opportunity to go face her head on.”

Home tap 2 – “Ugh, it was so embarrassing seeing my brother celebrate the Day of Chastity that his wife.”

Home tap 3 – “I’m not letting Malleus win this time! Especially with Alice involved.”

Home tap 4 – “That Ace really stepped up. Hmph! He might step into Riddle’s shoes someday.”

Home tap 5 – “Leave me alone! I’m conserving my energy. *Yawn*”

Home tap Groovy – “I thought this was suppose to be a challenge! It’s useless to run from me.”

 R- Floyd

Summoning line – “Come out, come out, wherever you are~! Heheee, I’m coming to get you, Cuttlefishie~!”

Groovy line – “If I can’t catch, Cuttlefishie… I ain’t lettin’ ya’ guppies have her!”

Home idle 1 – “Eels are what we call ‘shy’ hunters. They lie and wait. And wait, and wait, and wait… then *snaps jaws* Catch ya’ in their jaws! Hahahaha!”

Home idle 2 – “Cuttlefishie learned it from Flapjack Octopus. The Day of Chastity last for days! Heheee, sounds like fun! But Azul says I’ll be bored by the next day.”

Home idle 3 – “Awww, the Woodland Creatures look so cute! Makes me wanna’ squeeze them!”

Home tap 1 – Azul should of known Cuttlefishie wouldn’t make a deal with him! Hahaha! He looked like he was gonna cry!”

Home tap 2 – “Ouch! Hey! Who’s throwing nuts!?”

Home tap 3 – “Oh?! Crabby’s gots some guts! Let’s throw down!”

Home tap 4 – “Blegh, what’s that smell?! *Sniffs* Ugh, stay away from me, Guppy!”

Home tap 5 – “Jellyfish was the perfect bait! He had no idea he lured out, Cuttlefishie for a nap!”

Home tap Groovy – “C’mon! C’mon! If ya’ want to get to Cuttlefishie, ya gotta get through meee~!”

[wooyoungisbaby]

Park Seonghwa; an absolute sweetheart

Y E S. this is canon :) 

You’re still not convinced they didn’t hire their entire social life from a modelling agency.

Says the person whose bestie is Hongjoong? 🤣 But yeah, also canon. 💅✨

this is what im picturing Hwa looking like when he’s modelling here

“This is going on all the socials, hyung, we’re going for a viral sensation here! Viral!”

i know in my heart he’s an ipad kid.

but after last night activities, you’d been overtaken by an unshakable urge to check in on him.

She care him so much 🥺 i mean i already knew that BUT STILL this is so sweet. I can’t wait to be punched right in the feels with this, somehow. 

[...] but now you understand his chivalrous instincts a little better. 

They’re bonding!!!!! over wrecking woo :3

hanakotoba

Random as fuck fact, but i learned this word in a another fandom (black butler), and it made me smile to see it used here :))  “No, that’s what you’re saying. I never used that word,” you tease him. “…But yeah. You look pretty sexy.”

-under my breath-  fuck him over the counter while hes wearing his work apron 

Wooyoung has always had an uncanny ability to capture your happiness in his photos, bringing your inner joy to the surface.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😭🥺🥺🥺🥺

Aughhh gosh, the kissing part!! It’s so good how you wrote this. I think Wooyoung is thinking he’s just like, being playful and not making a big deal out of it, which is totally in line with his fun, upbeat personality. He’s playful and a jokester and doesn’t want to make you feel bad, i just think that, yeah, he misjudged the severity of the situation - not that it was ever super intense, just that he should have backed away instead of continuing to play around with something that’s serious to Reader. Like, he might think he’s helping my making light of it. If he knew what an avalanche of emotions and thoughts this all set off in Reader’s head, he would be so upset :(( 

Every time you have to remind him or San of a boundary, it feels like you are speeding up the clock on this relationship

TRANS PERSON MOOD!!!!!! 

“It made me feel like you got one foot out the door already.”

Oughhh he’s being so good at communicating :’O they both are!! Needed a little San assistance, sure, but they’re getting there! 

It’s so cool how you set up the backstory with Hongjoong leaving ; ; it’s such an interesting parallel to what Reader is imagining will happen with Woosan. And it seems to be the root of those particular insecurities of hers as well :’(( 

but then he grabs your hand without even meeting your eyes and pulls you up on your feet, right into a hug.

This particular phrasing is making me feel like the #angst isnt over yet :’)))) 

and as your eyes meet, you know that things will be alright between you.

… ah :’)  aaaa im so happy

monochrome artwork of vast mountains and woodlands

me, overanalyzing: omg… san is the mountains and Woo is the woodlands bc hes a fox……. whoagh. 

Wooyoung is dressed in a shirt and baggy boxers

I NEED HIM CARNALLY!!!! uh who said that

i had to look up what a box-tie is, and it looks so cozy and also restrictive in a Good way. he would look so good in that =u= his arms and shoulders are so, like… slender. i think a box-tie would accentuate how small he is, but also how relatively muscley his shoulders are. he would look a little pathetic but like in a 100% endearing way obviously. 

Woo and Reader

rope is one of the few things that truly slows him down

…makes him bouncy? chicken butterfly? 

He is as meticulous as always, an easy rhythm to his movement, like the cords are an extension of his body, wrapping himself around you.

this added such a comfy mood and feel for me, the sentence feels almost like getting a Sannie hug :’)

Blamed me for wasting his time. 

well. i am killing him :) 

Now I don’t know if we ever really were friends at all.

my goD that’s so….. yeah. I’ve read stories online written by women who had what they thought were good friendships with men, only to find out that to the men, it had been a build-up the whole time to somthing “more.” They all felt betrayed, understandably, and while they had just wanted to be friends, the men had “girlfriend zoned” them. Which i think is way more of a real thing than the friendzone. Being friends is literally a normal thing, and it’s on the men if they enter a friendship with expectations of romance. anYWAY-- 

like he was the one person who’d finally ‘fix’ you

yikes! :D 

You start to giggle when you realise what he’s doing, and Wooyoung joins in when he realises how futile and ill-conceived his efforts are. 

im DYING this is too cute!!! need to kiss his nose ;A; 

“…You really never considered that??” “Not until yesterday!”

Woo lives in the moment so much, and i think that’s probably true about the real Wooyoung as well. He strikes me as the type, anyway :) 

It is an odd thought; all this time, you wondered how much time you’d have before San and Wooyoung inevitably moved on, while San wondered the very same thing about you.

And furthermore, 

“Seriously, this all would’ve been sorted out so fast if either of you just talked to me about it. Idiots.” 

communication good!!! 👏

you’ve seen often enough how he — and San — menace their friends with kisses

Bahahaa xD they’re the same in every universe <3

your presence treasured for exactly the way you are.

aaaaaaaaa she deserves this so much, esp. after that shithead in her past!! 

the ehndhnhjnh >w< YES, bite his ass!!

i really, really liked this chapter! i love this fic =u= it was so nice how they were bound together at the end, it felt calming and comforting that they could just focus on the words that were said instead of a lot of body language. It felt like they were able to be more honest with their words because they were already close together physically, that way reassuring each other that they care about each other a lot. Like a conversation that had a baseline of affection and (platonic!) love, making it difficult for there to be misunderstandings. that’s what i imagine, anyway. they’re already hugging each other, lot of skin contact, lovingly tied up by San. i think it’s easier to be open and honest this way, potentially.

also really liked the Seonghwa cameo =u=

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt9

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, friends with benefits

ch. summary: You visit Wooyoung at work, where one of your ground rules is tested.

wc: 7.7k

ch. warnings: gratuitous Seonghwa cameo, angst, a fight that lasts for like 15 minutes oop, sorta hurt/comfort, non-sexual bondage, dom San, sub Wooyoung, sub reader, rope space, mentions of past arophobia and amatonormativity

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns.

a/n²: there is no smut bc i split this chapter up for length — but the next update will make up for that, promise!!! ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

a/n³: in-fic time, less than a day has passed between the end of chapter 7 and the start of chapter 9. this feels worth mentioning, considering what happens in this one lol

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

The florist shop where Wooyoung works has a colourful and refreshing showroom, filled with creative flower arrangements, lush potted plants and idyllic garden ornaments. Sweet fragrances permeate the air, bright sunlight comes in from the large storefront windows.

The place is small and packed tight, greenery within arms’ reach wherever you stand; but organised and clean enough that it does not overwhelm the eye. And your vantage point by the counter gives you a nice overview of the store, including its two employees currently at work — but right now, they’re not exactly busy with selling flowers.

“Just relax, hyung!” Wooyoung says, exasperated, waving a hand at his friend and coworker. “Look natural!”

He has a camera pointed at Park Seonghwa; an absolute sweetheart and strong contender for the title of ‘most attractive person you have ever met’.

(A title that Wooyoung and San and literally every single one of their friends are in the running for. You’re still not convinced they didn’t hire their entire social life from a modelling agency.)

You watch them with amused interest. You’ve only met Seonghwa twice before, but he had enthusiastically greeted you when you entered the shop earlier. Now all that bright friendliness has faded, replaced by a stiff smile that’s stretched uncomfortably across his face.

“I don’t look natural?” he asks, nervous in his role as a model. “Why do you need me anyway, isn’t all this for the webshop? Why aren’t you taking photos of the displays?”

Wooyoung sighs impatiently, shaking his head at Seonghwa’s obliviousness. “Are you kidding me? The internet is gonna eat your face up. This is going on all the socials, hyung, we’re going for a viral sensation here! Viral! Now go stand next to those hibiscus and look pretty, alright?”

While Seonghwa moves around the store for a good spot, Wooyoung shakes his head and gives you a pointed look.

“Can you believe this? Man has a phone bursting with selfies and now he gets camera shy? I really thought this’d be a cake-walk.”

You giggle at Wooyoung’s mumbled grousing, and give him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. You never actually planned to visit Wooyoung at work today, but after last night activities, you’d been overtaken by an unshakable urge to check in on him.

He’d been yours to take care of, bound and blindfolded, and you can’t shake off an oddly protective feeling, like he is still yours to take care of even now. (San also always insists on dropping by at your place after an intense scene. You always poked fun at his overprotectiveness, but now you understand his chivalrous instincts a little better.)

There really was no need for you to worry; Wooyoung is energetic and upbeat, firing off jokes at Seonghwa in an attempt to relax him.

“What if I pretend to be a customer? Just to set the scene, distract him from the camera,” you suggest to Wooyoung. “But no pictures of me!” you add quickly. “I don’t need to be on this place’s instagram or whatever, alright?”

Wooyoung perks up at your offer. “Yeah, that could work! Come, hyung, pretend it’s just another day on the job.”

He ushers you to join Seonghwa between the colourful dahlias and asters, where you exaggeratedly clear your throat and roll your shoulders, readying yourself for your acting performance.

“Okay, so help me out here,” you tell Seonghwa, overly serious. “Let’s say I want to give my neighbour some flowers. What type of bouquet would I need to communicate my sympathies because his boyfriend never stops bullying him?”

“Oi!” Wooyoung protests, but he has to bite down a laugh to keep his camera steady. “Hwa, maybe you should put together something for a poor guy whose boyfriend’s neighbour keeps bullying him!”

But Seonghwa lets out an adorable giggle, and his smile relaxes now you’ve put him onto a task — no matter how silly the task is. “Well, edelweiss are often associated with courage, that seems appropriate here, right?” he says, meandering through the store. “Or what about some red camellia? Means ‘to persist with grace’ in hanakotoba.”

“San does show remarkable grace throughout his many struggles,” you agree solemnly.

“Same can’t be said about you,” Wooyoung retaliates with a grin.

You stick out your tongue at him, very much proving his point. But then you quietly hang back while Seonghwa enthusiastically digs into the particulars to fulfil your fake request. Your distraction works exactly as intended; now that he has relaxed, his natural sweetness gets a chance to shine on camera.

Seonghwa continues babbling about flower language at you, until the photo-shoot is put on hold when a soft bell chimes through the store. The door opens, and an actual customer steps inside.

Seonghwa helps the distraught-looking young man, who seems to have made some disastrous choices in his relationship — but you don’t listen in on their conversation for too long. Instead, you and Wooyoung reconvene at the counter.

He takes you through his haul of photos, badgering you for feedback. Your lack of expertise never seems to stop Wooyoung from valuing your opinion, always eager to hear what you have to say. So you point out the photos you like best, and happily let him use you as a soundboard.

He nods thoughtfully when you admit to liking the photos where Seonghwa is still just slightly nervous; there is endearing about his tentative smile, making his beauty approachable rather than intimidating. “Maybe you could a few from that side of the store too?” you suggest, gesturing to an area to the side. “The succulent arrangements there are really cute.”

“Oh, good idea!” His eyes flicker over the displays, and already you can see the gears in his head turning, working out the best angles and observing how the natural light falls.

“Do you want me to take over the camera for a bit?” you ask.

“You? Why?”

You shrug, idly looking through more of the photographs. “You said you wanted a viral sensation, right? Getting some shots of you definitely won’t hurt.”

“Are you saying I look sexy?” Wooyoung grins as he leans on the counter, running a deliberate hand through his hair.

“No, that’s what you’re saying. I never used that word,” you tease him. “…But yeah. You look pretty sexy.”

You see no point in lying. There’s something unreasonably appealing about Wooyoung in a dark green apron, fitted around his slim waist; especially combined with a simple off-white shirt, rolled up to his elbows to show off his veiny forearms. He has his hair partially tied back into a half ponytail, the loose strands falling attractively into his face.

Wooyoung lets out a pleased giggle, bumping his shoulder into you and sticking close. His fingers reach to play against your wrist, tapping and drawing circles on your skin. He’s been acting especially clingy today, making you wonder if he also feels the remnants of yesterday’s scene just like you are.

Either way, you don’t give too much thought to his touchy-feely mood, until you keep looking through the photos — and see yourself back on the screen.

“Woo, didn’t I tell you? Not me!” you complain, whapping him on the arm, but it’s hard not to be struck by the picture; the way he has caught your face in the sunlight, your eyes glimmering with enthusiasm as you play customer for Seonghwa. Wooyoung has always had an uncanny ability to capture your happiness in his photos, bringing your inner joy to the surface. Sometimes the intensity of your own expression catches you off guard, making you wonder if your smile ever used to be that wide before.

Wooyoung pats your shoulder reassuringly, holding you into a half-hug. “This photo isn’t for the socials; it’s for me,” he grins and leans in, his lips suddenly pressed against your skin for a firm peck on the cheek.

You freeze instantly.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Wooyoung asks, but then his memory kicks in. “Ahh right, sorry sorry! No kissing when we’re not— Yep, got it.”

“Yeah,” you say awkwardly. It’s fine, you tell yourself. Wooyoung forgot a boundary, he corrected himself; that’s all. Drop it and move on.

But Wooyoung, caught up in his playful mood, is not dropping it. He tilts his head, his eyes curved with a happy smile of mischievous curiosity. “So really, not just on the lips, no kisses at all? Any room to haggle out a deal? How about… on the top of your head?” he teases, pretending to move in. “Or the tip of your nose?”

Wooyoung keeps feigning more attempts at a kiss, treating the line drawn by your ground rule like a tightrope, balancing right across and threatening to topple over.

And there is no safety net underneath, not for you.

Your good mood shrinks away as Wooyoung happily jokes around, a tightness freezing you up. “No, no don’t,” you say, stiffly pressing a hand against Wooyoung’s shoulder to push him back. “Don’t fool around, Woo. Not this time.”

A strange mix of guilt and discomfort tangles sharply around your chest. Discomfort at Wooyoung’s flippant reaction to your boundary, guilt for having a boundary against one of his preferred displays of affection in the first place.

Wooyoung sobers up when he sees how badly he misjudged the situation. “Hey, sorry alright?” he says, raising his hands in apology. “I didn’t realise it was a big deal.”

In a way, you agree. The kiss itself didn’t need to be a big deal, not if Wooyoung had just let you shrug it off.

But either way, it is part of a big deal.

Once again, you hear the clock in your head, ticking away until the end of your arrangement with San and Wooyoung. Right now, it’s louder than ever.

Most days you just try to enjoy the moment, and avoid thinking too much about it. Now the full weight threatens to come crashing down on you, right in the middle of the flower shop.

Usually you imagine it ending by a slow drifting of interest; a gradual, undefined shift where you fade into the background noise of each others’ lives. Still friends, hopefully, but no longer closely entangled the way you are now.

But the kiss is a blunt reminder that things can also shift in a different direction; San or Wooyoung might grow to want things, feelings, that you cannot offer them. You are happy with the way things are now — but how long before they aren’t? What if this one small stupid kiss is the first of many clashes? What if this is the first sign of some inherent incompatibility between their needs and yours?

What if they ever decide that what you can give them isn’t enough?

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you stay stiffly, trying to keep the tight spool of emotions contained.

Hurt flashes across Wooyoung’s face at your obvious attempt to brush him off. “I’m worrying about it a little,” he says, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “You know I didn’t—”

But Wooyoung swallows down the rest of his words when Seonghwa joins him behind the counter with an armful of flowers for the customer. Wooyoung magics on his friendliest smile, amicably chatting away with the distressed young man while Seonghwa deftly assembles a beautiful arrangement of soft rosy and lavender hues.

Together they comfort their upset customer, assuring him his girlfriend will love these, though you know they’ll be like two gossiping aunties the moment this poor guy leaves the store.

You try to relax during the wait, but suddenly the store’s sweet floral aroma is cloying to the senses, threatening you with a headache.

You just want to get out, take a few deep breaths of fresh air, and ease down your discomfort without Wooyoung constantly casting glances at you. His bright customer service smile hides most of his true expression, but there is definitely a worry in his eyes, and you can’t stop thinking about the earlier hurt on his face.

The customer leaves with his flowers and a soft jingle of the door chime, and Seonghwa turns to Wooyoung.

“How about we do a video too? Talk the boss into making a tiktok account for the store?” Seonghwa suggests, his nerves fully flipped over into excitement now that he’s gotten comfortable with the camera. In his enthusiasm, he clocks a beat too late that something is off with his coworker. “Uh, Wooyoung? Everything alright?”

“Not sure,” Wooyoung says, lines drawn on his brow as he looks at you. “Are we alright?”

“Yeah, I just— I’m gonna head back, see you later, okay?” you say, the headache no longer just a threat.

Wooyoung’s worry falls away from his face to make way for disbelief, and an annoyance prickles to life as you try to brush him off — again. “Wait, are you serious? C’mon, it’s only like five minutes ‘til closing time, I’ll be right behind you. Don’t be like that.”

Unsure, Seonghwa looks between you and Wooyoung. “Hey, why don’t you just leave early, Wooyo?” he offers. “It’s pretty quiet today, I got this. My turn to close up shop anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wooyoung hesitates, but gives in when Seonghwa gives him a friendly nudge. “Yeah, see you tomorrow. I owe you one, Hwa.”

The way back to the apartment building is quite possibly the most awkward that things have ever been between you and Wooyoung — which is saying something, considering the whole ‘you walking in on him and San having sex’-thing that kicked all of this off in the first place.

Neither of you bring up what just happened, honouring an unspoken agreement to wait until you’re back home. There are a few stilted attempts at smalltalk, like you and Wooyoung are both trying to keep some thin thread of connection alive; but there is mostly just silence.

Wooyoung quietly trudges next to you with his face drawn, hands stuffed in his pockets, and plenty of thoughts on his mind. (You can’t help but wonder; how many of those are second thoughts?)

It’s a painful contrast with how affectionately clingy he was before, but thankfully the apartment building is just one quick subway stop away, and then it is only an elevator ride up to the top floor. You follow Wooyoung into San’s place without really thinking about it, like that’s just where you are supposed to be.

Inside, Wooyoung shucks off his shoes and barely waits for you to follow him into the living room. “Okay, we’re home, can we talk now?” he says, looking back at you with a tight expression on his face. “Cause that back there? That wasn’t cool.”

San, who had been hanging out on the couch, puts down his phone and blinks in surprise at the heavy tension that just walked into his apartment. “What wasn’t cool?”

“It’s not—” you start, but Wooyoung bluntly interrupts you.

“I kissed her.”

“Wait, you what?” San says, now outright startled.

“On the cheek,” Wooyoung explains, then crosses his arms as he turns back to you. “And no, I shouldn’t have — but when you tried to ditch me like that? That wasn’t cool either.”

His frustration is contagious, and you feel yourself responding in kind. “You know what else isn’t cool? You doubling down on the whole thing and making a laugh of it instead of just backing off,” you bite at Wooyoung.

Anger blooms inside you; anger that has very little to do with that stupid kiss on the cheek.

Every time you have to remind him or San of a boundary, it feels like you are speeding up the clock on this relationship, rushing closer towards the end. And you can’t help but resent Wooyoung for making you do it twice.

“You think I like telling you no? I don’t!” you snap, the frustration now burning behind your eyes. “Whenever I gotta push back against something, I feel like I’m pushing you away. I don’t want that! I don’t want to push you away, so just— Stop making me!”

“Make you?” Wooyoung snaps back. “I didn’t make you do anything yesterday. You started on that whole ‘we can still be friends after we stop having sex’ business all on your own, and that felt like a pretty big shove to me.”

Poor San looks completely out of his depth, uncertain as he glances back-and-forth between arguments, but his eyes widen at Wooyoung’s words. “Wait, you want to stop this?” he asks, staring at you in shock.

“No, of course I don’t!” you say, flustered that San’s takeaway is the exact same as Wooyoung’s had been. “Why do you guys keep asking that?!”

“Because you’re the one who brought it up!” Wooyoung says, rolling his eyes at you.

Your mouth opens, then closes again. Shit. That’s… actually a good point. “Not because I want us to stop,” you say, your heated anger slowly cooling down to brittle embarrassment, “I’m just…”

“Wait, hang on, hang on,” San says, finally willing himself into motion.

Carefully, he takes your and Wooyoung’s hands, then leads you to sit on the couch with him in the middle. He doesn’t let go of your hands.

“So let me get this straight. You” — he looks pointedly at Wooyoung — “are upset because you don’t want her to push us away. And you” — he turns to look at you — “are upset because you also don’t want to push us away? So what the hell am I missing here? Aren’t you on the same page? Can we please maybe entertain the idea that you guys aren’t actually mad at each other!”

Now it’s Wooyoung’s turn to cool down, the frustration seeping out of his shoulders. He sighs, something releasing in his breath, then meets your eyes with a tentative grimace.

“I’m not mad at you,” he admits awkwardly. (San lets out a sigh of relief.) “What you said yesterday… maybe it shook me up a bit more than I realised.”

You mirror his grimace, struggling to meet his eyes. “I’m not mad either,” you say, equally awkward. “Sorry, I didn’t really think about how that question could sound to you. I was just looking for reassurance, I swear.”

San squeezes his hand around yours, daring a cautious little smile now the thorn has been taken out of this conversation. “Reassurance for what?”

“Just what I said,” you say with a rueful laugh, unsure how to explain better. “That we’ll still be friends even after things between us change.”

Wooyoung makes a noise of exasperation.

“No but see, that kinda pisses me off,” he says, getting worked up again. “Listen, I get what you were saying, that we don’t know what will happen in the future. But why are you so convinced we’re stopping this any time soon? Sure, we don’t know if it will go on forever, but isn’t that the same for anything? Hell, who can even say if San and I won’t ever break up either?”

“Um, I can?!” San interjects, giving Wooyoung a distressed look.

“I didn’t— Sannie, I’m not saying we will!” Wooyoung says, interrupting his own vehement monologue with a fond laugh, patting at San’s hair. “I just mean you never know! But bringing up stuff like ‘after’ and staying friends…” Wooyoung looks at you with a faded smile. “It made me feel like you got one foot out the door already.”

His words sink in slowly… and for the second time today, you’re forced to admit that Wooyoung sure is making a good point.

(And despite everything, you can’t help but feel a small burst of happiness at Wooyoung’s complete distaste at the thought of ending your arrangement.)

“Maybe… yeah. Maybe I do have a foot out,” you say wryly. “Past experiences have turned me into a bit of a pessimist, I guess. But if they taught me anything, it’s that whenever I got something more involved going on, one of two things always happens. Usually, the whole thing just… dissolves. Not always on purpose, but it does. We’re having fun, but then the fun wears off or it isn’t convenient anymore or something else comes along that’s simply more important.”

“You’re important to us,” Wooyoung protests, sulking.

“Yeah, well. I’m important to Hongjoong too. He still left,” you say sharply, and for the first time, you allow yourself some bitterness in that truth. (Obviously you would have told him to go, had he asked. He never asked. And really, what right did you have to expect him to? You are ‘just’ friends, after all. But fuck, it hurts.)

Wooyoung flinches back, blinking in surprise at your tone, and a fresh wave of guilt bubbles up inside you. You hate it. Why, even in the privacy of your own mind, do you feel guilty for not wanting to be put in second or third or last place for once?

You sigh, reaching across San’s lap to rest a hand on Wooyoung’s thigh. “Sorry Woo, that wasn’t fair,” you say, not thinking too much on if that’s true or not. Right now, you’re tired and just want to smooth things over, not set off another argument.

“It’s fine,” Wooyoung mumbles; and for a moment you worry that it is not fine at all. He stands up, shoulders low from fatigue as he stares at the floor — but then he grabs your hand without even meeting your eyes and pulls you up on your feet, right into a hug.

His grip on you is so tight it knocks the breath of out of you. One of his hands finds the space between your shoulder blades, fingers clinging at the fabric of your shirt, while the other cups the back of your head, drawing you even closer into his warmth.

You can’t see his face, burrowed against your shoulder, but you think you can hear a muffled “you couldn’t push me away if you tried”. A cautious smile curves around your lips, and you gently return his hug, carding your fingers through his dark hair.

It only takes a moment for another set of arms to join the fray, and you let out a soft ‘oof’ as the full strength of San wraps around you and Wooyoung, his firm body pressing into yours.

“You guys scared me,” he pouts, rubbing his cheek against the side of your head. “Don’t ever do that to me again, you hear me? Are we all good now?”

You free up an arm to clutch at San’s shoulder; still a bit unsteady but reassured by their dual presences. “Better, definitely,” you allow with a soft smile.

Wooyoung lifts his head up. There is no anger in his face, but the furrow of his brow still hasn’t relaxed. “We are good,” he mumbles. “I still feel kinda shitty. I know I fool around a lot, but it was just supposed to be a bit of fun. Never meant to actually upset you.”

“I know,” you say, gently brushing through his hair. “It’s okay. Sorry I tried to shut you out.”

San looks from you to Wooyoung, gears turning behind his eyes as he sees you’re both not fully at peace yet. “Let’s take it easy tonight, alright?” he says with an encouraging smile. “You two go freshen up or take a nap or something, I’ll order some food, and after that we’ll make sure everyone gets all nice and relaxed. I may know just the thing.”

A ping of curiosity goes off at San’s last words, but you know asking won’t be any use; he likes to keep his surprises. “Thanks, San,” you smile back, “and thanks for snapping us out of it.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta be the sensible one around here,” he grins — and lets out a tiny, cute yelp when Wooyoung lovingly bites his shoulder.

“You think you’re the sensible one?” Wooyoung says in teasing disbelief, right back to his menacing ways.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Yeah, I’m with Woo on this one,” you say. “Sense? San, you bark at Byeol.”

San makes an offended noise. “Byeol grew up around pups, she doesn’t speak cat!” he defends himself, endearingly earnest.

“Ah yes, perfectly sensible,” Wooyoung drawls, exchanging a grin with you; and as your eyes meet, you know that things will be alright between you.

San tries to glare at you and Wooyoung, a look that is completely neutralised by the pout on his lips. “You two really want to piss off the guy who’s about to buy you dinner? That a road you want to go down?” he threatens, but there’s a poorly hidden, happy gleam in his eyes.

Wooyoung throws his arms around San, pressing an exaggerated kiss on his cheek. “Love you, babe!”

You hug San with equal enthusiasm, nuzzling against his shoulder. “Thank you, food daddy!”

“‘Food daddy’?!” San gives you a startled look but quickly sighs in defeat, patting you and Wooyoung on the head. “Fine, fine. Go take a shower or something and I’ll handle it.”

A long shower and a hot meal later, you find yourself in the familiar space of San’s bedroom; the white walls contrasted by dark sheets and curtains, with their the monochrome artwork of vast mountains and woodlands. A place you’ve come to associate with safety and pleasure; a place that eases the tension in your body just by breathing the air between these four walls.

Soft music drifts through the background; one of San’s easy listening playlists, relaxed and unobtrusive, and he even took the time to light a subtly scented candle. The atmosphere is quietly intimate, but also distinctly chaste, with none of the usual heat.

You are kneeled down on the bed, doing some light shoulder stretches to warm your body up, comfy in a basic sports bra and a pair of sleeping shorts. Wooyoung is dressed in a shirt and baggy boxers — and adorned by lines of rope stretched across his chest, already halfway into a box-tie. He submits to San’s work with a languid smile, slowly letting the outside world slip away.

“Of course your ‘thing’ would involve rope,” you tease San, then sigh in bliss at a particularly satisfying stretch. “Don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“Hey, if it works, it works,” San says with a wink. “Besides, you sure were eager enough when I pitched the idea.”

To literally tie you and Wooyoung together? A little on the nose, perhaps, but god San had looked so cute when he suggested it, so proud of himself for his ingenious plan, and you’d hardly object to such a thing anyway.

You realised long ago that bondage is a bit of a favourite between San and Wooyoung, and they are no strangers to non-sexual forms of rope play either. Both for the intimacy and calming benefits of the act itself, and to test out complex ties or positions in a low intensity environment.

San finishes the box tie on Wooyoung, securely cinching both his arms and wrists, ropes crisscrossed prettily across his chest. Already you can see the shift on Wooyoung’s face; in the right mood, rope is one of the few things that truly slows him down, its soothing effect reaching all the way into his very core.

“Everything good?” San asks, his voice like velvet while he checks the knots. “That’s it, slow your breathing,” he hums, raising and lowering a hand in time with Wooyoung’s breath, guiding him deeper into an almost trance-like state. “Focus on the smell of the candle, how the rope feels against your skin, holding you in. Nothing in the world except the three of us in this room.”

He tenderly cups Wooyoung’s cheek for a soft kiss, lingering close as their foreheads touch.

“I’m right here, I’ll be right next to you,” San whispers. “Just keep your eyes on me, alright?”

You smile softly at San’s reassurance. Even when he is forced to divide his attention between two subs, San always finds small ways to stay connected, especially when one of you is in a vulnerable state.

Wooyoung briefly rubs his nose against San’s, then lets him go with a content sigh. A familiar warmth spreads in your chest at being the witness to their intimacy, their willingness to share unguarded moments of delicate happiness.

Then San turns to you, and treats you to a moment of delicate happiness of your own with a light brush of his knuckles across your cheek. “You ready?” he asks with a small grin, looking far more relaxed himself too. Like the act of tying up Wooyoung unwound something inside him as well.

You nod, filled with gentle anticipation. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then let’s get started,” he says, holding up a piece of rope with a playful spark in his eyes.

You settle down while San goes to work, a feeling of serenity washing over you with the knowledge you are in safe hands. He is as meticulous as always, an easy rhythm to his movement, like the cords are an extension of his body, wrapping himself around you.

San’s slightly calloused fingertips brush against your sports bra and against bare skin. Even with zero intent on arousal, there is a sensuality to the way his hands move over your body, leaving a trail of rope that are not unlike his fingertips; slightly coarse but still soft. There is no restraining element to your decorative harness, but it feels secure around you, grounding your senses. With every cord San lays across your chest, he reduces the world further down to just this place, this moment; no thoughts, no worries, no conflict.

You glance at Wooyoung to find him watching you with a slow, dopey smile, all his earlier tension evaporated. His smile widens when he notices you looking, and your own lips curve up in response.

The diamond chest harness snugly hugs your breasts, and you feel the odd urge to preen, filled with a surge of confidence at how they accentuate the soft curves of your body. You arch your back just lightly, and Wooyoung bites his lip with a breathy laugh; he will always respect the need to show off.

“Looks nice,” he says, slightly raspy from the effort to summon his voice.

“Back at you,” you hum, casting an admiring glance at Wooyoung’s body and the ropework. “San did well.”

San strokes the back of your head, and gives the nape of your neck a small, appreciate squeeze at your compliment. “Ready for the next part?” he asks, looking from you to Wooyoung with a quiet intensity in his eyes, fully absorbed in his role of caretaker.

Once he is sure you are both still comfortable and in a good mind-space, San helps you down on the bed, on your side with one arm outstretched in wait. Then he helps Wooyoung to lay next to you, your arms neatly wrapping around Wooyoung’s waist as you scoot close, until your chests are pressed up against each other.

Wooyoung gives you a half-grin, his trance-like slumber disturbed by the change in position. He is close, so incredibly close that you can see even the faintest blemishes on his skin, tiny faded scars and small traces of acne. There is something mesmeric about them, grounding you deeper into the reality of the moment, the reality of him.

“Yeah, I like this,” Wooyoung sighs, wiggling closer while San ties up your wrists behind Wooyoung’s back, trapping you together.

“Good,” San says, his eyes curving as he finishes the last knot and looks up at you. “How about you? Still comfortable?”

More than comfortable; small jolts of excitement are firing off inside your veins at Wooyoung’s proximity, but you take a few slow breaths, guiding yourself back into the easy-going atmosphere. “Very,” you joke, squeezing your arms around Wooyoung. “As far as methods of conflict resolution go, this is definitely a new favourite.”

“See? Told you it was a good idea.” San grins at you, grabbing another length of rope; his work is not done yet. He starts on Wooyoung’s ankles, whose expression has gone thoughtful at your comment.

Tied up the way you are, there is no escaping Wooyoung’s pensive gaze — but you don’t try to, meeting his eyes while he is brought into an even deeper state of constraint. He slowly blinks at you, pupils dilated in the dim light of the room.

“What was the other way?” he asks.

“‘Other way’?” you frown, trying to work out what Wooyoung is talking about.

“You said that whenever you’re involved in this type of situation, there are two ways for it to end,” Wooyoung says, still looking at you intently. “You never told us the second one.”

San perks up in curiosity at the question.

Ah shit. You groan, reflexively trying to hide your face in your hands — but they are securely locked behind Wooyoung’s back, so all you do is pull him in closer into the soft cushion of your chest. He is happy to let you, the ropes of your harnesses pressing into each other.

“Wait, is it embarrassing?” he asks, almost a little too eager; Wooyoung loves embarrassing stories.

“Not— not exactly,” you quickly disillusion him. “I told you it usually ends because interest fades, right? Well, the other way is… the opposite, pretty much.”

“Too much interest?” San asks, his hand now on your ankle, nudging you to bend your knee and hook your leg over Wooyoung’s.

You breathe out a soft, bitter laugh. “Yeah that’s spot on, actually,” you say, following San’s guiding touch. Your hips neatly line up with Wooyoung’s, and San starts to anchor you together. “Last person that I had a friends with benefits type of deal with, he… Well, he started to have some romantic ideas about me, about our deal. When I couldn’t feel the same way about him, he made it real damn clear he took that personally. Blamed me for wasting his time. Now… Now I don’t know if we ever really were friends at all.”

Saying it out loud hurts more than you expected, a painful reminder of how he’d seen your friendship as nothing more than a stepping stone.

You had genuinely liked him, enjoyed his company, but none of your time together had any intrinsic value to him except as a prelude to romance. Didn’t matter that you’d been upfront from the start; he’d still convinced himself that his feelings for you would magically change yours, like he was the one person who’d finally ‘fix’ you. His word, not yours — and that had hurt the most of all, threatening to undo all the work you’d done to teach yourself you were not broken in the first place.

Frustratingly, sudden tears burn behind your eyes. It is the vulnerability of the bondage, you tell yourself. It is because you are tired. It’s definitely not because of some asshole who’s not worth a single spare thought. Dammit, you can’t even wipe your face right now, forced to try and push back your tears through sheer willpower.

Wooyoung scoffs loudly, breaking your concentration.

“What a fucking asshole,” he says, shaking his head. He tries to grab onto your hands, still tied behind his back, but the best he can manage from this position is for his fingers to graze against your wrist. “His loss, if he thinks any time spent with you is a waste.”

“Agreed,” San says, squeezing your knee. The ropework around your leg is half-finished and forgotten. “The friendzone is criminally underrated, if you ask me,” he says, and somehow he manages to be joking and completely earnest all at once. “And our zone? Some cool hot gal lets me be her friend, and she’ll let me smash? I fail to see the problem.”

You hiccup a laugh, tears shaking loose from your lashes. “Yeah, you know what? You’re right. I’m a damn platonic catch!”

“Damn straight you are!” San grins, his hand warm and reassuring on your leg.

Wooyoung still looks intensely at you, his eyes flickering across your face, tracing your tears. Briefly, the thought strikes you that he wants to kiss you.

Right now, with your bodies trapped together, there is very little you actually could do to stop Wooyoung from kissing you again — but you do not panic when he leans in, filled with absolute trust. A trust that Wooyoung proves himself to be deserving of when he just clumsily brushes his nose against your cheek, an awkward attempt at wiping your tears.

You start to giggle when you realise what he’s doing, and Wooyoung joins in when he realises how futile and ill-conceived his efforts are. “San? A little help here?” he laughs, leaning back to his original position. He shakes his head at his own silly impulse, his bright smile even more beautiful and contagious from so close-by.

San does not hesitate, grabbing a tissue from his nightstand before he lays down behind you, leaning over to properly wipe your face. He does not return to his ropework, opting to stay close for a proper cuddle. His cheek presses against your shoulder, an arm slung heavily across your waist so his hand rests on Wooyoung’s hip.

“Just, for the record,” San says, his voice so close to your ear it raises goosebumps, “all jokes aside, I really am happy with how we are now.”

You manage to turn your head just enough to give San a grateful look, gently bumping your forehead against his. “Me too,” you say, and hesitate for only a moment to say more. “You… you guys do know I care about you, right? Like, a lot.”

“We do,” he smiles, dimples and all, while Wooyoung tries to squeeze his hands around yours again.

“But sometimes that only makes more difficult, to try and figure out how to navigate all this,” you say, grimacing again. “Even now? Right now? Some tiny part of me is worried that I gave off the wrong signal by saying that. It’s like I’m trapped in some weird split, and I’ll either push you away or lead you on, even by accident.”

Wooyoung chuckles dryly. “You get stuck in your head a lot, don’t you,” he observes almost conversationally.

“…Yeah,” you admit with a chuckle of your own.

“You know,” San says gently, “it’s not like I never thought about this kind of stuff either. Where it’s going, when you might break things off. Maybe I should’ve brought it up myself, I don’t know. Maybe I was worried where that conversation might go.”

Wooyoung blinks in surprise. “Wait, you also thought we might stop having sex anytime soon?”

“…You really never considered that??”

“Not until yesterday! Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

“I just—” San shrugs, a little helpless. “I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

(It is an odd thought; all this time, you wondered how much time you’d have before San and Wooyoung inevitably moved on, while San wondered the very same thing about you.)

Wooyoung’s frown returns, and he shifts a little against his restraints. “Hey, you know I don’t like it when you don’t talk about what’s bugging you. Even if the thing bugging you isn’t me.”

The last part is light-hearted, but you can still sense his concern, a history of past conversations in his voice.

It is a new side they are showing to you; allowing you to witness not only the intimacy of their happiness, but the intimacy of their disputes as well. Somehow it’s both uncomfortable and a comfort at once; you are literally trapped between them, but there is something revealing about this kind of vulnerability, their willingness to let you into their lives. The pretty and the unpretty parts of it.

“I— Yeah no, you’re right. I should’ve,” San says quietly, reaching to brush his fingers across Wooyoung’s cheek. “Sorry.”

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow, but there is a budding grin on his lips. “Seriously, this all would’ve been sorted out so fast if either of you just talked to me about it. Idiots.”

“I did talk to you!” you splutter in protest.

“Yeah and here we are, not twenty-four hours later! Case closed!”

(Damn, he really won’t stop making great points today.)

“No, not ‘case closed’,” San says, huffing a laugh. “That’s what I was trying to talk about!” His face goes a little softer, leaning over your shoulder just enough so he can make proper eye-contact with you. “Listen,” he says gently, “we don’t have to work out anything definitive right now, but I— we’d like it if you stuck around for a long time. If you want.”

He rushes to add the last part, like he’s worried even the tiniest hint at anything remotely resembling a commitment could make you bolt like a startled deer — and you can hardly blame him for that.

You give him a quiet nod, unable to do much more right now than acknowledge his offer, then you look at Wooyoung, to see where he is at right now.

“Yeah, I’m with San,” Wooyoung says earnestly, but you spot the playful gleam in his eyes even before he opens his mouth again. “Seriously, what do I care if I get to kiss you or not, if it means we get to keep you around? I’d rather learn a little self-control than miss out on you.”

You exhale a soft, fond laugh. “Thanks, Woo. I know what a sacrifice that is for you,” you tease him, but you squeeze your arms around him a little tighter to make clear you really do appreciate it.

“Oh, it’s a huge sacrifice. Don’t you dare think I’m treating this lightly,” Wooyoung says, absolutely treating it lightly “Do you even realise just how much I love smooching my friends? So. Damn. Much. You better be grateful!”

You’re fully aware of how much he loves it; you’ve seen often enough how he — and San — menace their friends with kisses the same way you like to menace Hongjoong with hugs. In hindsight it’s a small miracle that it took this long for either of them to slip up and lay one on you at the wrong moment.

You try to move your arm to reach back and touch San, and are mildly surprised when you can’t, still restrained by the ropes around your wrists. They’d almost been forgotten, like they are as natural to your body as wearing clothes.

“…Hey, is it weird that we just had this whole heart-to-heart while me and Wooyoung are tied up?”

San just shrugs, giving you a small grin. “As long as it works for us. That’s how we’re doing this whole thing, right?” But it does pull his attention back to the bondage, and he testingly feels at your bindings. “Does it all still feel good?”

“Really good,” you sigh. “Definitely worth revisiting this type of thing under different circumstances. Ah… I think Wooyoung agrees,” you blurt out the last part; his cock gave an enthused twitch at the suggestion of doing this again, noticeable even through his boxers.

“Oh, does he now?” San purrs, running his hand over Wooyoung’s chest harness.

Wooyoung is predictably shameless. “Hey, I’m enjoying myself. I’m all for a redo without clothes getting in the way.”

“Then we’ll make that happen soon, for sure,” San says, biting his lip. “Want me to untie you now, or stay like this for a bit longer?”

You and Wooyoung exchange a look, coming to an unspoken, unanimous agreement. “Bit longer.”

San hums, the heated look in his eyes softening back into affectionate warmth. He nestles back against you, throwing a leg over yours to hook his ankle around Wooyoung’s; creating another connective thread between the three of you as the bedroom settles into a relaxed, almost dream-like space.

You’re still restrained, but you have never felt less trapped. Instead you surrender your body and mind to the rope, to San, even to Wooyoung, although he is just as tied up as you; and you know you are welcome here, your presence treasured for exactly the way you are.

The feeling lingers even after San carefully untangles you and Wooyoung, enveloping you like a soft, serene glow.

You feel it in the gleam of San’s eyes as he rubs circles into your wrists, gentle deep pressure to encourage your bloodflow. You feel it in the weight of Wooyoung’s head resting on your shoulder, so quiet that you think he has dozed off until he giggles at an exchange of small jokes between you and San.

You feel it even after you leave their physical presence behind to turn in for the night; it’s right there in the ease of your thoughts, in knowing they won’t carelessly discard you.

The timer has stopped, no longer ticking away in your head. Instead San’s offer echoes through you, resonating stronger with every repeat.

“We’d like it if you stuck around, for a long time. If you want.”

In truth, you never gave much thought to what you actually want the future with San and Wooyoung to look like, other than some vague idea of ‘existing in each others’ lives’. You always assumed the choice would be made for you, and to fill in any details would only set you up to get hurt.

Now they have extended a hand to fill in those details together. And you don’t know what it’ll look like exactly — a platonic commitment of some sorts, something that works for the three of you regardless of traditional conventions — but you do know that you want to stick around. For a long time.

The next morning, you wake up to find a 4AM text from Wooyoung.

hey so non-sexy kissing is off the table but i can still bite u right

You snort tiredly, still half-asleep. Like he hasn’t been doing plenty of that already! But you resolve to go see him today, and give an in-person demonstration to show him exactly how you feel about bites.

[libidomechanica]

And Lord and shadow waiting foremost toward the hall

A rispetto sequence

               1

Wishing-gull to each, and hours appeareth. As if banishing dies, state the morning cake shoved in a narrow in myrth now about: wonder wooed and found about his lips have bears, and, crowned. Farewell! Shall entered what his peere, whether longer under altered soul, in narrowes eloquence? Soon as ASTREA right, nor brag not for done. Valley, come to my absence I see thee.

               2

In manhood sung long as you all? Take fire, and then would be thy gallant sound was drawn a light. She seeming passing, old joys no describing that waits country’s relation from our appetite to Spain: and altering in gray; and sommer prove: backwards, thyself away; if one or trapping mov��d, and I wear his love the boy hath no specially the news was a morall not lives.

               3

And more true Justice to single all, her own. The body keeps the loss is compose her with downes abyde. You wilt tells him beyond thee: ah Christ should I been that in the first infuse or which we dayly browne. About my Rose turn? Now tell a tale more religion disapproves in the evening, swallows’ call? A strange was love, but hung the hangman, who survives. Yet am I?

               4

He was, or sustain’d the sky; from whom I am I, who stands, till over unto good, and her—she said; free vent of those skies, the glow, to marry yet; I’m o’er young men whose falls, she coast to kiss each amicable guest, but doubt, yet love only tell me ungentle wings. Are display considering love for every gossamers the storms, they may be won above, thine ear.

               5

Where I have their ranks a spirit as a long, of comfort dare to give is only was dead, whilst we glance about the heartless charity! And once it our hue, and wood: oh, sacred essences must she must endure; what we were as tempering still such, the kirk maun hae the same lands, saying; Comes her hears somewhere likewise grew to find and once moved through a wave shall these deep.

               6

Slips make fast by meadow in arms doth live i’ the sun, but connected in place of the wild bird, when the merchances I ne’er succeed the boar, rough, to which once she forming honey once- lov’d idea how it gotte. Thy custom’s a mort ny mord. In a bride with new and throne and wretched Man, and pale forests there was greater their own, and death the grows tear that all the brake.

               7

Bathe meant to be drawn by many times in loss their halls, and only worn and who, his book and set the world or surgeons ever. What precedent of old fell downward a woman yet, I ceased his obscure woodland lost for my five minutes trouble vaine. A smile, and truth vair and holds by might be fair breedeth bear, I falter wit, stor’d with teach threat heard my face arraid; and fair.

               8

And though even-song attent to know no more; by shame, her heads, as freeholds, I lookt to farme. That made me low, shone; for whose loves and the true to early fair! Mom popping sweet: thou, Abelard lesser grief I leave been means so free. To the windy sigh: the earth, and throne, nor can Juno sweet Highland Maud is a sabled, make gentle chastest the fault; not praise, and hoodman-blind.

               9

Knowing to his side. Chronology and in his actions of those the was of the wrist, sith inborn women most evil of love, to say a things, no mark it would brood; that’s a false as much ye striking? We are not say is, not lament, a pillars a crone shall he met with scoffs, I met wi’ a lang like to the walls in sing the mellowing on a difference as i know.

               10

Why shoes out of Day is my lift the foolish me! Fair she spirit walks; and with sacred dirge and smiles to heaven they butcher-sire to relieve himself, all external bounds, it takes him pardon, if in part of feelings, and tree and sat by thee. Escape of red tingle; and the first step of Fortune, and weep so light tulips, since the aisles of our palate fine tinct.

               11

Whose pow’ring like Banquo’s offspringing. Of the field without abhors the certain to my forsworn. Are conqueror William Curtis is thy foolish me maim’d to dwell intendments work is feet, on the day. Strength resembled from thence, or more. Since each other force to die, he scales to wit, and rough my head: look, some slight thee proofe I may love shall drop feet forgetful; then with thee.

               12

Which looks dim with the streets for that the snatch’d with a bastard kind? Love I would look into woo, suppliant masquerade; yet I call with truth, and when they said she, sweet the type of generation’s mind. And set. Before shouts, there needes must reacher as if there are both of the loves to his holy stands check’d; Religious in storm: has foundations for all at last up than wear yours.

               13

For understand unjoin, be both riotous and fortitude! The effigies the watercolor. Ignorant of his strong summer-night; we mock thee cannot tell, by oft whole stronger half divine, nor can it be sister, daughter, and o’er the middle-aged lies sleep till piper ladies in loss fortitude red couch’d with the Yes of a yellow music, and sunny.

               14

But mostly spight was these, from their lightning froze. By night to bear; and morn. From ostentation, or with bearing ear, that, for sympathy: sodae sulphat. We left force his world’s wealth, and tuft with some looks so contain; and what slack doth aske: and suck’d it mocks me, knowing postures, and hold on life is dear Conversation to resisteth, over Orion’s fingers, holds my head, I say.

               15

Yet she, sweet ecstatic may thy sad head became: till the elements before him that every walked thy pride, and tumbled, make his Camel! Your window at the sake let her revolving, lawful notes my heav’nly has parted, father motion I write, as fancy fly from world form their dim life is gone. At leade, the blaze that all their God to see me wise men grow to shun her.

               16

Which we dwell; let his friend that were to obey. Said, What keep the noble breast; that like soldiers of songs to be sanctified, about there, couch’d, the sun that Mahomet should surely rejoice; I promis’d her note; thou must give to glass and act is overcome with me; know the alleadg’d Gods in a big box store, but died slave to come far from me where the street, blossom’d bean, who love?

               17

Yet, O ye mystic graceful jest; perhaps surprise a health of war and forward count it come as pillars? And then tell me all other’s Ears, all mirth, so much, and on the bounds strange above our lived below a prince, because of virtues, learn my kitchen filled: I would be cooler air, nane might I from her better pleading the morning; my beauty showed with Death ere Arthur do?

               18

The life, shaking in mutually, need na spier, an I sing to cry; for thee. See line portentous phrase … children shone in a moment to more. The song we sang: They doe as true sons of those who had a man walked, strays, her crimson joy: and silly misplanted Norwegian tree, thought me twas, a sweetly, and whenas I made his other former voyages, or open.

               19

Her dead set at Lord of Miss Macready. Still must have rest, surprised the Celt; and in mind spirit in the teeth were rudely starves amid her husband, you, had enter that were dim, drew quiet and women most fear, thy kindred eye, their gods of night this eternal bliss, whose falls of Death’s twin-brotherly affection be, sometimes he knoll to draw the Governor want too.

               20

Beside; lonely Winters of fancy forms of doom. The lacing on higher; as thro’ time, but cares of mine harder walk as one another sleep just be my scholar, and clos’d her name the two women of noble mind, which is truth from coasteth to broad, or where light regret: the worthy peace their bowre: and with delaying demon December’s doomed to. Are genuine, and sad!

               21

Or utter’d in the dark creep folly! Nothing which, by bribing the Ears of gliding his birth, that pays his low, your seem a schoolboy or a prophesy, sorrowest beneath her ere the who had love keep out solitary gait his dazzling its expansion. Be near the more pure never hope. For charity, and disease, his text; nor harp be to Holland’s house; nor is it?

               22

Thy prevail them coughs are brows are descend, and loving lovers are remedy to stay: for ever, ever let the while the pomp to flights and all but plain, and all that held a smiles, and grave? Said her own the walls; and ev’n my Abelard and will gloves thy griefs that burneth to come. Will be sparrow after shock, tis much to exalt; not prays, nor other I would be the lute.

               23

Of youth, forecast the skill. She plightest love as i know. When tis a cushion of one. Beside; her for their queen Mary: A Drama queen may read? So mayst seems twain the rains, trade of quiet and heard; at lengthen fetters flow? Above all, the dear, more beside; and to others voice was not say: o heauen apart; yet, do not sow or bear her hand is satire. By Phœbus was grave.

               24

Musky Chain, the sin, yet I lov’d, and hopes to pain, and gathers not enslaved owing guilt—of guiltless to counted cherry, creature could dwindle of a waste is far from all the morning he is so straitened marshes has-ke. To soundly shine, and what hardest face of pain into pleasaunce to brief as summer’s knell. When the world with Phoebus race: but God’s eternal soul.

               25

And in true passion from their forehead’s like sluice and fusing mind of God nor more. Are like, He did we will shoe is frail; rode o’erflowing over they, or else he breaks hither keep, and came from they do burn to do they rise; for Wisdom dealt their smell thou unask’d, till his moisture reigning; those linen band upon than summer long already for all the earth has made me wear!

               26

To fever, ever leaves on the crueltie farre from their emulation of after horrors rise! All, praise, and I sunned it was gude, and presse Nightingales down to my bowering cold within my eyes woo’d still of digestion gives a man could touch! The fain would not address to be effaced, it turns the bless omission all the night a summer’s dust is far to die.

               27

Looks so correct, that they kept us can penetrate shepheard, some preferr’d young: the deep East, and sithes I cried Dang it? Or on the white hands in a fluid among there he breast, has not Hobbinol, when she fear divination is passed, and expire; such nectar of it. Now quickly steal the wouldst conversations that feed her, and still by your pillows of Olivet.

               28

Fain woman earth and body keeps his love his debt at once thrones of lurid smoke and pray’rs nor moved, nor We to all wane a manly Palm, a calmer grief as summer half-seas-over. For ever young till the lark hath but since like the sad words gracious Eyes and my discontentedly, wishing-gull your words, thether the path is already said their full of the ashes.

               29

Up that shall love them how to see, but fair, with his Feet. But first Man too, felt to poor wretch the hard, he real, or odds, it make the pomp, nor blind the heart of gamesome haycock, or the horse should trust the dusk of the window-seat for thy? The breeze of quickly then with tapers couldst content, for thee her moved, as if we heart is not confession, thrice as larger head turning crept.

               30

The moaning is sole excus’d I to rear that faint, both of flower as you milkwhite a frame: here in your mother in at Christ’s snow-white pedigree, my dream milk burneth more had a right, adonis smiles as thoughtful postures, and iron changes itself, from vice, would I desperate bow’rs, celestial kiss the love again! Some quiescent would fallacious poisonous care.

               31

Know this, that Shadow and night: Good nights, white! Were I come and shoots javelin-like blunt boar, and charity: but their sense is not hear, not die, his night, so low unto mend: but through a lives in the grim, and burden of racing oars among the field is universe I call, and song, in the moan of straw, born fair, and feast, preserve and my Deare, nor the shore. And splendour strength the skies?

               32

My life, God of distress to come as pillars of glass and feels, as all the will be a situation feed with good Angels watch’d with thy Remember who held me not, but as usual by the earth’s old song, noon, alas! What cannot be scorching short swallows’ perchant-ship, on the arms of Fear, and tears. As an empty bottle which wafted hot and convey what kindly!

               33

My polish’d by Potemkin; others’ pray’r. On till I die, mine armour rusts, Turne the morn, and trees best: but nowe sike hairs that rise: to make me weary, sir; but when he did! Not less of the Just, be blown comes and touch. Pursue; nor am I cold, and one sight: I must tell me when he has strait to thee. To the and glitterers of the phantom chanting hymn to the best; therefore.

               34

But who sat and was gude, and deep pulsational turmoil: the mountains so much good, and every limbs into dust of their head swim somewhere, than that when they are mine had guest; distance, absence ere bribe approachful shores of man; who that blessed Cross the dying, How charity. As yet it gotte. To receives us: rooms, and bright to sadder pliant and so full of felt the Pole.

               35

Was drawn a light virelayes, and faith of talent the haunt you wrongs and answering lov’d. When on its stub branches bear no earth; so that bitter blow. As soot best pastured mind an equal power give. To see him that I have twain; be bold begin with hands an abstract of feeling. Out of pith another’s glass bottom of every billows; paced number severe, you’ll say.

               36

Two glass like yon bonny son walls the same type appear; and words, of giusts, Turne the morning to teach what did she sails of men I lay, but I shall past words, woe unto love in snow too wan, or build a bonny ship, on thy wine while we to drives through all or save. Thus were I list to enioy. The dales, or don’t under on his plain and in by the ripen, her beauteous cruel be?

               37

I, that I write my hand self-same way. There live and griping he loueth me; know the plain that beech wild flower was wonted snows: they do swelling dewy-tassell’d men whose youth; she mixt in a sunned it grew pale: heav’nly has had deep, and sometimes for passion rules, and seizeth on to push on, if that written, so remember sweet for the second staring of your good again.

               38

I know this, poor twas a hawk encumber: not the Belovéd Head under whose deities of blood, or lull without a brow. A reguiem that stay. Has gentle lark’s wile; and all the brackish waterfall. Is that she sin, nor leave the Romans chosen so well be both do find all from the female, of desire. The Nestors of faithfully. From heaves the price: the chapel.

               39

Sighs, and her—she springs, and stories has done meets, albeit the pulse earthly mother, perpetual of its prey, and bosom beating, this moist hand? Dear from the chamber sorrows are not proud he clean, that watch—all Day we drank the blushing joy. Wild bird lies with the dreary frown; the last to make true desire that is, it take a Werter of the mind: it will away.

               40

Taints of your mind is no sleeping on to-night besiege from his day was as sure these poor twas her self and her tears, that wears her of my lips of my lips are commotion of the wide sat little tent of the Excise. Not share, the lass of weeds of thy deeper deep down which Drachenfels frown, and skilfully, sudden weep, and thy blood The very one, unjust Fortunes that light.

               41

More sweetheart more appeal to chance the better which thou lonely Winters, reign. The Grashopper so well as fair in more couldn’t bear to me: I bring good. And be their courtly Chesterfield, which make you, except the lean toward time the words, or down below, are they may be confide, to tak me frae my mammy yet. And those eyes when both together lost dearly grows of Olivet.

               42

These blue cannot be pleased a vanished, the hurt, express much to some prisoner had, however word, to find; being ireful, monstrous day; and such a Banquet in my dead? Sweet dove, your modes of the purblind cloute she fairest euer; stellated Rhine: ye glory, whether mother the Grandmother offerings to a mornings of the limit of the vanished, we see how much light.

               43

He that had veil, they would she was by, thought, life’s hackney coach, I for that’s greatness the unclean leper’s hour and thickest missions how the truth or ere the silent men would Arthur’s combat, wilt chide the pride ten the floor into theirs was quick tears that true, and then any trouble, controls. That she farther of the kelp clings ever names to wood, a centre as they do steel it?

               44

And that same, else he might me many, and now my Muse, she seeks at merit of sight, their prime rot and performed the lattering from the planting, broke, t is no recompense with smoke into shade from yonder ages, or some removed, thy kirtle, and Doom: the king throbbing vestal’s veins of the couldn’t comparison he went to me, i’ll do like a lattice of Prose. There, lo!

               45

Of that abandon thousand to the shall we? Famous, how much paine of my heav’n to sway, you open convent’s sole God is gone, for my stately let your daughter landscape to the night her fee; she was a fossile man, be borne down by sun and had but bitterned in lead: look also, and village stage, and hopes in whisper, circle of what died unto the silver done.

               46

Breath been another remain’d, making up from his debt. Then leave it shall I said mansion; the worldy blisse.—The bows, she die! Harold: A Drama the Consummated, is Love’s pleasure my spite despair. He that one to every week his plaids, Scotchman in honest made the mound where, couch, and shoals of changed, like mist. And native is vaster draught on your heroes, kiss those evil fan.

               47

What to the words I flung like the body should have to lose hills with smoke, thick mass of heart, then my love with things. And, but lives and weave the bliss, and weep whose eyes swim across the merciless and lips, and fine; mine eyes and drown’d in thy sighs, and crying in dream or dive belovëd, where of an acorn gave his desire, save a spectre of mine capes and went the chords: nor care.

               48

Carve it to earthly comfort in man and strange and thy to weak the hounds in single with thy dull narcotics, numb to the grave it; for a yawning cell, and thought. Vows, one God, on earthly robe, he looks love, but alas a lady, no; my heart somewhat sing a jet stream, cherish with he, in earth thee, Give me her revolution’s mind an angel in the summer’s Field of it.

               49

Especial, the distance that any feud of my childishness, Evil Cloud rain Sorrow—fixt upon my knee; but this ancient power, from man to lives in New Jersey light, would he clear me? Down and dropt their first love is walking that, and full perfume the rest to foot, teach us, not apt to Tauris, was soft force her arms embraced, shall haue some sorrow days, or in its prey.

               50

He does short, he addition of this I could pile of it—she crie, are vain, worthy perusal stand thou, compell’d, strict injunction fare, and swelling. But I did not waste, that will with a thousand that perpendicular. Was on hand: true thy brethren, lead, or cousins alive … Oh my Petite, unapt for every pleasure nor past alloy withers should! My Muse, and juicy.

               51

I rally, smile or disorders was they spend the Arabian Night hath desirable, distil through he now of hem, to their foreigners do stur; in the night, sick sleeps; I smell of forest creature right and seems, to know translated, sated, whom each at every puzzled all art of sun will mortality! And my blood, that Nature’s ears, that under: both protected.

               52

Alas, the crime; whether thighs, and gay, but he. Our care. Should not once and song she in tears did follow’d while all, and I stuff, it with pitch the sun, her soft hand for any, call’d idolatry, nor share it. In which we dwells with wishes; granted? Who spur mortal power, from op’ning one, while the heart, and lose meerely? Ambition loses and Thrush say, creature the spoken.

               53

My deare and mournful Psyche, nor dearest, voted, sated, the loue and fall, and women, will not stare. Here is the dark grove, and obedient with just endure it well she knew that saps that waft a sister smiles offering … I burn to within me no motion warm, and in a third errand seaman’s face of pride, and thy orphan saw his first to the Rhone by on the windows.

               54

Concoction of ioy, Yf still die. So many a rose-carnations all them chant the monstrous ledges on in lovely the self-sweet ane an’ twenty mariners after like a sight of desire of my griefes stories, oft I hear no more we lay: and none but from the subtle wreath’d defence from yonder without dissembly, and the blows; ’ and sky, week and swallow-flight.

               55

And action thro’ the quiet sense of God to stranged. Read that had bruis’d, would but less the arms empale flickering flowers he thought on your windows. Scarcely joy. But all my know the day; where each a we-see poem, a they-love poem. So enrag’d, but none is slain, round the day seem what her face is beauty’s vast estate to harm—did you be sweetness: let it later.

               56

He did he hath time mistresses; tell to be going, leaving fie was something while the country chere. Move right have void of an oak. Thou hast no deed of bodies are dumb with a sword ought, now she wilds, in a man and magnifique, the best way. Where divide the Rhone by charms of what ship may make me words you leave been, or, dying land or change the least been, and hear on the moon.

               57

Eve made wretch’s aid, strike him that he gets me no more, thy fame and forbear in my strange is more base a vision of the Starrs, allies as rosy plumes of monarch dies, one that this new. The river’s change, in which will be false betoken’d wrack to be at random strong by a wrinkled heard throughout my bed-feet. A fire: and captive voices, were o’er young, folded mistakes their pole!

               58

The sound: calm and not that I was was Adonis death the Silver sliding himself Affection of endless sick, nor fasts in the shee deeme of speculating red shew might forth a chamber severity was from gods are cast couldn’t have not in that man not been, and self-love poem. In my delighten’d the wife lay kill’d was drench’d volcano, o’er young songs I touch thy praise.

               59

To fan and treaty or new. Oh but fear the light reproaching months in my soules hearts were was bright in the time thousand wrought her heart; to look thy gifted his grant thee in the way of bristless round, and make fast in my bonnet hide itself and yet wad wakes the past be all most living who stem the sweetheart is not so you, I own, and all be dying souls’ antipodes.

               60

Had spoke a wheel at midday, set light of night. How he is at peal’d through—fire I cannot guess; and thunderstand there neither of her Deare: there hopes to free mill: but seeks are smooth’d my face, but both do find in the problem was that might and wars of sense to mine the squares feeling at they rest, nor dead, none enough thou cast they have murder’d in their mistresses; tell the Queens and where?

               61

This I knocks hanged heaves by the soul. And heart renew’d. Shrines around, one mine, each cheek, and thought at all at once, art made, and light increase no long soothe animal awesome I would standing to me, i’ll ne’er settled for a formed on the will hanging decrees, and once let lose hie and breast two lamps around mine eye that which must that’s down, but if the budding night, since all together.

               62

And things out impatient, I come away: we done. Now I could be thrush, that rose intellect a poet, silk, or tears, that will now. Wise beloved along to crosses in midst, their friends and lost tossing tongues. Would bring for an Eye to each part intent I never such who, mixing will hanging strong; all these; which three yard Sweet above alone, nor the tender of the city.

               63

And alive. What precede the liquid kiss, and beauty, and loud apart, he too near; for after when she made the friths that profuse; but say if thou shalt thou binna she, now bring’s a tale shall was resolve itself at stream, mither, rather not to gently lay, mouths: Echo replied; thou sing, a beauteous incense I ran, that lies taste. Than a long familiarly rise: twas she.

               64

You knew who wished him lest that vulgarest dells, who touch drove of ancient form shall be spilt. Choose, then with smiling at his maids again, with gore; nature she doth in my heart of reach’d at my vow, or from above; give me for wet filaree and clearned hast, noy gynnes to pray that remove. Thing new; most in the noble type appeare; sicke, thick noon, as we desert: but somewhat times.

               65

Who stay: the Thief to wed with what were she measure of satisfy his inner cracknelles, all fashion and countless Falstaff the Saviours life-giving perplex thee, I thus explaining like it. Or ivory in an honesty again, as few would peeping them, thoughts beyond the souls opprest and condemn’d to green side of life shall the new-sprung up, chequer-worm will draws near.

               66

To seizeth on him from yawning-fit o’er young, I’m o’er me an idol; whilst I the dead man not to passing that is such lame hands so often heame and sulkily the ford, or stonish’d? Which watching threshold on their love; it was my nature to see is going weedes doth prove a meetest number of a hoary now so to bridegroom was they must now is no chapel.

               67

In days; unwrapping was death for the brood of cares to suited, and pining like a weed-clogged wave: and yet, ’ quoth he, nor am I in its long and you worse they wore than coughs will go to Newgate? At last for the severe, a gold; the colour’d faces drive, to get; she telltale cheek, and or end of these love, hope, and bright scandal now and the morrow, that sit a-billing fires.

               68

Long since I seem night stares; and such as blawing once am settled end, that they so fowle a falling thro’ all the blushes never him, bids him hideth and my middle line portentous phrases late excell; rich in her be so clings like thou art sick. Springs her pledges of blood. When the road, sun-spotted rushrings, hath chemic skill. My light to be seen, I will no more.

               69

To fan and ill, or weep, and rent, why choosing— the eavedrops from me removed, a sad to knit the quiver to the least, then wondrous sweet smelt every gossamers that lay that scene is bold should be better of Babel. Ah Percy it is they still is well she cannot her feeling air and many a figure; like me, cold are apt to ease me doubts of song, being hand.

               70

The state, in number of Joy—to Forty Morning; which my holy plants of me to redeem his song to sit a stand thoughts bringing half the dandelions of sorrow, then the Power in the hot scent clay! In campeth, spread, propped eye, panting, as thou doest pride, and red tape&to thee forth his Mecænas left us by inherited sin on the lasting to pray; who then them.

               71

Cold and lifted hot as capabilities. It shall I my judged the quietness to bait that hard to a hill, to put on you surrender and trees are to well I weep, Love, and now behind. Thy eye, the Sleep free, who walk of letter pledge’s perfect music; meseems most of that when God fails; we rubbed their friend the grand Cuvier! I would choose, that are not flower was made!

               72

In such water who I am. Find some direction we tramped, in all that love more subtill the time breath, and have wept. As sometimes their queen: my love, I wish your imagination; a bird of light tempting love endures we rest. And and send a flashes dropt upon the abyss of the bridal flow, whether glory as may all external day. Our ends. Is but most thou?

               73

’St, all my gude red first doth the child: I found— the dream; but every shadow stood too alien teares doth things passionless like a guilt and of the Psalmist, that my books have over Sinaï’s peaks no moe the market I stealing? We alternate, I pity for thee over thrive, our coming words and were lies, to catch the forst to keep within his sleeve! With such a type.

               74

Thou complaints! Nor have kept your love all the ground in her? As I who watcher’s face of ioyes remain her silver said, adieu, ’ for ever! As when tis sure than death with true sons and breaking of the Worlds could not so, my buff and quiet ribs of a single acts made to attend: it shall scandal, and scrubbed these shouts, the house, with his presence, nor wills, whose they staid within its ash.

               75

Did not fulfillment bugaboo follow’d grows starry skies? As pure. For beauty’s anger and grow bad, and call’d glory, as I ought mine, mine, with a fruitless peace with all forgiv’n. Is delight glanced wildly appalled. Comes to make of ill, to those who physics to the lake-like brows are smooth torments the rain adder time mine. That with so much ye string: of loue in winter ere them.

               76

Who taught to clime on the ev’ning the thing cold it not move, strive to-morrow not to breath; and whiter blossom of the heroes of her more death had fall, O! Who lookes young to the downs, more appears already to might by and empty bee that which he would scorns the sea my face, and tune his stronger laments before the keys of sight stars, bats, or fuel, making of the mist.

               77

Your mind at her courtesie; but for what I might can succeed thee; thou obdurate, flint, after loud alarums he doth assuag’d. Vast heavy talent and high Muse, and fears not your hand, as I said, had your hand she praised up his holy temple, blood to wake at first like a lowly love; and the summer window and splendor. And maist the dream, yet alas, how to get my tale.

               78

Love, I read through Poland touched, I’d grow old. Or else were threshed a blacked-out cockpit of things. That is glance of our and art, and life is not bend in its amber several seat of appendix, to complete, how know the root, teach in the grief, which happens in civic action on the well be thy vault more the old man, and up an ugly hill they knowledge sake, the soul?

               79

Ring out, calmly kiss his lady-sister will; that hears make. A straw and the lass the fifth autumnal sleeping stream shall we flower, but by year extending up from the life was continual term of human justice as unto it: if her teeth, like garlic, howsoe’er suspicion does Love looks the shadow white anchor o’ the hand, presently, daily burden of Hell.

[e-m-christina]

Serpent Of Sparta

Ivar The Boneless x Reader

PART ONE

Requested by @childishhoe

Summary: Ivar Lothbrok meets his match when he is introduced to Y/n Artròmitos, the daughter of a bloodthirsty Spartan king. She is sent to fight in Ivars army, after making an arrangement with Rollo, the Duke of Normandy. 

With matching rage and ambition, Y/n feeds into Ivars flame, igniting feelings that neither of them thought they were capable of. But fire can easily be burnt out.

Series Overall Rating: 17+

Word Count: 2k

Comment to be added to taglist. Requests are open. 

MASTERLIST

* * *

TWO MONTHS AGO                                                      

 Your incarnadine wrap dress fluttered in the wind, fastened only by the golden broach of nobility at your exposed shoulder. Rays of early morning sun glinted off the wine glass that was being twirled between your fingers, as you watched the city from the castle of Mistras. A new batch of children were being piled into carriages, waiting to be sent off as slaves, to the city of Athens. 

“You cannot keep running from this marriage. I know you already rule Athens, but after the death of your husband, you must marry again!” You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes at your father’s remark.

“I have no time for love. I had to sacrifice love for respect. You know this much.” You took a seat opposite your father, who was running a hand over his grey beard. “On the contrary, the Athenians are weak. If I wanted to marry again, I would choose someone in a position of strength.” You said, rolling a grape between your pointer and thumb, making your father sigh.

“I know what you sacrificed, Y/n. What you had to do was terrible, but it was for the best. Both for you and your d-”

“Anyway,” You said, cutting your father off, “I am already Queen of Athens and the leader of the Spartan army. What use would a husband be?”

“Commander Y/n.” The doors of the hall burst open, revealing a puffed and red faced soldier. “The Duke Of Normandy has sent you this.” He passed you a piece of tinted brown parchment, bound by the wax stamp of Normandy. 

“Leave me.” You waved your hand, and the warrior promptly left the room. 

* * *

“Rollo is bringing a great ally, from a place named ‘Sparta.” Hvitserk said, standing beside his brother, Ivar, and King Harald. A fleet of blue Francia flags sailed towards them like great dragons on the dusky pewter ocean.

“I have heard little of this ally that Rollo is bringing.” Harald said, folding his arms across his chest. “But, what I have heard is that he is a great and fearsome warlord, and that his soldiers are blood-thirsty demons.”  

“She. The ally is a she.” Hvitserk corrected Harald, watching Ivars expression turn into one of curiosity. 

“What is her name then, dear brother?” Ivar asked, staring at the approaching ships with a new found excitement. 

“Y/n. But she is often referred to as the ‘Serpent of Sparta.’” Hvitserk said, feeling uneasy about the glint in Ivars blue eyes. “And if I were you, I would stay out of her way. Her people basically worship her. They believe that she is a descendant of one of their Gods of battle. Ares I believe God was called.”

Ivar smirked. Not only was she apparently a great warrior, but she was also apparently descended from the gods?

“Well, I do look forward to meeting this ‘Y/n’. I would hope that she lives up to her reputation, otherwise I will be disappointed.” Ivar took one last glance at the oncoming fleet, before making his way back down the salt washed wooden deck, ignoring the ‘of course you do,’ from Harald. 

* * *

Your nose wrinkled. The pungent smell of decaying fish grew stronger as you came to dock. After stopping in Francia to gather Rollo’s men, you and three hundred of your best Spartan warriors made for Norway. And after two weeks at sea, you were in a horrid mood. After an attempted assassination directed at you, you were pushed over the edge. Not only did you have to command your own men, Rollo had dropped out the day you were meant to leave, making you in charge of all his Francish soldiers. The problem other than the sheer amount of men to keep track of? There was  a massive language barrier. You spoke Russian because you often went to Kiev, on trade deals, and you also spoke the language of the northmen. Not french.

Your days often consisted of making ludacris hand gestures to command the french, only to be laughed at by your own warriors. Though you only shared the same ship as your best warriors, the only person you could confide in was Freydis, a Norwegian slave that you had bought from Kattegat five years prior. She had taught you the language of Norway and you taught her Greek. Freydis had grown to be your best, and only friend. You had made her a free woman, yet she chose to stay by your side, through everything. She told you everything about herself and she knew almost everything about you.

“Get ready to dock!” You yelled, throwing thick reams of hemp rope attached to an anchor into the dark water, before climbing over the edge of the ship, Freydis and your best fighters trailing behind you. You were greeted by a large wooden dock surrounded by what looked like disheveled old fishermen.

“I thought these people would be made from tougher stuff.” You said in your language, making your warriors laugh, as you fixed the golden clasp of your crimson cloak. With one flick of your hand, your Spartan warriors started to march down the dock in a wild wave of red and gold. You were at the head, with Freydis and Araios, your second in command, by your side. 

“Commander, I heard that this ‘Ivar the Boneless’ is a cripple. Talk about not being tough.” Araios chuckled. You did not not.

“So what? One of our gods, Hephaestus was crippled, yet he was a great warrior. I would not so lightly throw that statement around with malice.” You gave Araios a stern look, before continuing down the dock. 

* * *

“I have been anticipating your arrival, Lady Y/n.” You came to a stop in front of the throne that King Harald Finehair was situated on. “We all have.” He finished, before waving his hand at Hvitserk, a Northman you had met in France, and a dark haired Viking that you had not yet met.

“You will address me as Queen or Commander Y/n.” You corrected King Harald. “Take your pick.”  The dark haired Viking chuckled, before reaching out his hand. 

“Do you know who I am?” He said, shaking your hand. Since he was obviously not King Harald, or Hvitserk, it was a simple enough equation to solve. 

“You are Ivar The Boneless. Ragnar Lothbrok's youngest.” You said, making Ivar duck his head with a grin.

“And you have met my brother, I hear.” Ivar pointed to Hvitserk, who refused to make eye contact with you.

“Yes. I remember him. I had to put him in his place after he unsuccessfully tried to ‘woo’ me into bed.” You shot a look at Hvitserk, who was scratching the back of his head and glaring at his brother.

“Well, Queen Y/n, I am sure that we can thank the Gods that you and your men have arrived unharmed. Though, I must ask, where is Rollo?” King Harald said, moving from his throne to sit at a table with Ivar and Hvitserk, indicating for you to do the same.

“Yes, I give thanks to Poseidon for a good passage.” You said, taking a seat opposite the northmen. “As for Duke Rollo, he had urgent business along the Silk Road to attend to.”

“I am sure that you will fare well in his stead. But for now, make yourself comfortable. Tonight there will be a great feast to mark your arrival.”  

* * *

Mushroom soup, bitter greens with tomatoes the size of peas, rare roast beef slices as thin as paper, dried salmon and whale in a green sauce, cheese you brought from Francia that melts on your tongue served with sweet blue grapes. The feast was certainly large and exciting. But it was not the type of food you and your warriors were used to. Usually, you had lean chicken breast and a small bunch of grapes, greens, bread and the occasional fish. All  because a doctor in Athens had carried out research to conclude that those foods helped with building of muscle. The servants that the Northmen called ‘thralls’,  were all young women dressed in greys rags, moved wordlessly to and from the table, keeping the platters and glasses full.

“Why are your Spartan soldiers eating outside?” Ivar asked you, finding it odd that only the warriors from Francia and Norway were in the feasting hall.

“We eat outside for the most part. You said, taking a sip of Mead. The drink of the northmen was certainly different to your usual wine, but it was a welcome difference. “They also sleep outside in trenches. My people believe that it makes them stronger. Little girls and boys born in Sparta, are placed in a number of trials. They have to fight and fend for themselves. If they can’t, they either are left on a hillside to die, or they are sent to the City of Athens as slaves.” 

“We do something similar. We leave the weak out to die. But we do not test our children like that. Is that not too harsh?” Ivar said, leaning forward, making you chuckle. 

“Ivar, if you want to be the best, you have to have the best warriors. And because I am sitting here right now, proves that you do not have the best warriors.” You said. Ivar narrowed his eyes as he tipped his cup of mead back and placed it on the table.

“We do have good warriors. We were just out numbered, because Bjorn had hired the help of the woodland fighters from Sweden.” Ivar crossed his arms, clearly annoyed that you would suggest his army was not sufficient. You had to laugh. Were these men being serious? 

“Forgive me, I forget that the warriors of your people are not on the same level as mine.” You smirked into your horn of mead, watching as offence flickered over Ivars face. 

“And why would you say that?” Hvitserk said, trying to defuse Ivars switch. 

“The Battle of Thermopylae. Three hundred of my Spartan warriors fought against a vast army of the Persians. There were thousands of them, yet, we still won. Yes, we did have the advantage of land, being that we were on the high ground, but non the less. And you tell me that with a huge heathen army, you could not win because the other side had a couple hundred more warriors?” You said, making Ivar scoff. 

“Well, then it was fated. The Gods were on your side, otherwise you would have lost.” Ivar said, making you frown.

“When my Spartan warriors fight, Ares grants us good will.” You narrowed your eyes and leaned forward. “But are you telling me that the Gods don’t favour you?” 

“Don’t be stupid, of course the Gods favour us, afterall, they have allowed us to pull together an even bigger army.” Ivar said as he re-filled his horn with gritted teeth. 

“In any case, it is up to fate now. Hmm?” Harald said, standing up. “Well, I must go now and see where Astrid has gotten to.” King Harald took on the last swig of Mead, before weaving his way through the crowd and through a door at the back of the room. 

“Well, it is getting late. I better go find Freydis.” You said and stood up. “Have a good night.” You ignored Ivars grunt and nodded your head at Hvitserks ‘farewell,’ before following the same path as Harald. 

“What do you think of her, brother?” Hvitserk asked cautiously, very aware of Ivars clenched jaw and his blue eyes baring into your back as you left. Ivars silence made Hvitserk bite his lip. He did not think he could bear his brother complaining about you for the next few weeks. 

“She is arrogant and rather patronizing.” Ivar said, a smirk slowly curling his lip. “I like her.”

* * *

“You fight like a child.” You spat out a mouthful of salty crimson, swinging your bruised fist. Crack! The large white-haired viking toppled into the mud - for the third time. He had challenged you to a fight after he overheard you talking the night prior. But unfortunately for him, he just proved your point. You being half his size and a woman, he thought he could win the fight with ease. But you had only sustained a punch to the jaw, whereas he was sporting a broken and nose and multiple lost teeth.

“Þú eru witchr!” The man growled, stumbling up from the mud.

“No I am not a witch.” You side-stepped out of his way, as he lunged towards you, only to miss completely and stagger back down into the mud with a thump. “I am just better than you.”

“When I asked you to come help fight, I did not mean fight my men.” You heard a voice call. Turning around, you saw Ivar, who was leaning against a blacksmiths doorway. He stretched out his hand and beckoned you toward him.

“What do you want?” You asked, annoyed that you were interrupted. 

“I was thinking about what you said last night.” Ivar said, tapping his crutch thoughtfully. 

“So was he.” You pointed your thumb at White-Hair, who was still on the ground a few yards away. Ivar rolled his eyes and leaned forward.

“Not like that. I want you to train my warriors.” Ivar said, watching your expresion flicker.

“And why would I do that?”

“Do you want to win this battle?” He asked.

“I could win this battle easier without your men.” You retorted, crossing your arms. Did you not have enough to worry about?

“Then why don’t you?”

--

Part 2 coming soon.

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[witchyweirdness]

Flower of the Month:  Violet!

Roses are Red, Violets are blue...

Hello, Darlings! 

Welcome back to another installment of Witchy Weirdness! 

Today’s quick little post is all about the Violet! 

I’d like to introduce you to one of my faves! 

Now, for some quick facts: 

Element: Earth and Spirit , which is why it’s wonderful for spiritual grounding

Sun/Moon: Lunar 

Dieties: Venus, lol.  I mean, damn.  There an entire myth where Venus asked her son Cupid who is more beautiful herself or a nearby group of girls.  Cupid isn’t afraid of his mother so he declares the girls.  And homegirl beats them until they turned blue and became flowers.  Like, damn.    Extra note:   If ya wanna call on Aphrodite/Venus for love work do you (And she is one of my deities, btw) but just be warned.  Homie was vengeful as fuck so ya know- just watch your ass, lol. 

 Io - Poor Io.  Zeus was afraid of his wife finding out he was cheating (for little the fuck, I don’t know, gazillionth time) so he straight up turns Io into a cow and makes violets for her to eat.  Like...what?  

Apollo, Iamos, Persephone, Orpheus, Ares, Adonis

Cybele- They are linked with Cybele and Attis because Attis was killed by a boar and where his blood fell, violets bloomed.  There’s a bit more to it than just that but that’s the gist of the correlation. 

In Christianity, it’s sometimes associated with the virtue of humility and modest and in some European cultures it’s often associated with death and morning. 

There’s also an Iroquois legend about the violet! 

I’ll have it down towards the bottom so we don’t get super side tracked, lol. 

Season: Typically, late winter/early spring. Which is now my friends! 

Annual/Perennial: Well, to tell you the truth.  Some are perennials and some are annuals. You just have to look, lol. 

Great for: 

Grounding 

Spirit work 

Since they are flexible in the area of annuals and perennials you can use them in workings relating to that.  If you want to infuse one with you new year goals  you can use an annual.  

If you want to infuse one with love, luck and protection, try a perennial that will come back year after year so that it will bring you those things throughout your life. 

And actually, because of it’s strong links and relations to lovers- it’s wonderful for workings relating to love, passion, sex and lust. 

I hope you enjoyed this little Flower Spotlight and if you’re interested in reading the little tale, keep reading! 

------------------ Friend send me this.  Not mine or hers.  From a book of hers.---

Legend of the Violet

Many Moons before the white man came to the land of the Red Indian, there lived a young warrior who was the pride of his tribe; for dangerous deeds had he accomplished for the good of his people. He had slain the Great Heron that destroyed their children, and he had brought back from the Mountain of the Witches the healing roots that cured the plague.

Once when he led a band of warriors against another tribe, he saw in the lodge of one of his enemies a maiden so gentle and lovely that he longed to have her for his wigwam. But because of the strife between the two tribes, he could not buy her with quills of the Wampum Bird.

So after he had returned victorious with his warriors to his own village, he often thought of the maiden, and how, unless he could light his wigwam with the brightness of her eyes, he would no longer lead out his young men to battle.

At last he went forth alone, and hid in the woods near the village of his enemies. There he watched patiently for the maiden whose eyes had softened his heart.

He sang her praises so often that the little birds took up his song and carried it in their flight, over valley and meadow. The Bear, the Fox, and the Beaver heard him murmur her name in his sleep, and thought that a bright new flower had been born in the woodland.

With the calls of the song-birds, he wooed the maiden from her lodge, and lifting her, bore her away toward the hunting-grounds of his people.

But, alas! a suitor of the maiden saw her carried swiftly off upon the shoulder of the dreaded warrior. He dared not follow, but fled to the village and gave the alarm. The braves left him—a coward—in the hands of the women, and hastened in pursuit of the maiden and her lover.

They followed them over mountains and plains all through the dark night. And as the morning dawned, they found them in the forest. And when the braves saw the maiden, they were filled with anger, for she had plaited her hair about the neck of the young man, to show that she was a willing captive and had given him her heart.

Then her people, enraged at their foe for his daring, and at the maiden because she had deserted her tribe, killed them both, and left their bodies lying where they fell.

And from this spot in the forest sprang up the first Blue Violets. And the winds and the birds carried the seeds of the flowers and scattered them over all the Earth. So they did, that in the Springtime youths and maidens might pluck the little blue flower that breathes of constant love.

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

Love, Mama Kennysaurus If you wanna see more of my content just check out my blogs! @littlemessyjessi is the main blog full of fandom fictions, imagines, headcanons and sickeningly sweet fluff! Yeah, I know, lol. Barf.  But hey, I like it. @witchyweirdness is the magical blog full of witchy content And last but not least !   @monsterbaesbymamakennysaurus is my monster blog full of all kinds of monster related content! So I hope to see you there! Love, Kenny

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Love, Kenny

[damien-ward]

Wolf Among Us

(Thank you to the awesome DM of our event Dilleana Escalon she wrote out this description for the start of the event and played all the NPCs in this event.  She is awesome.)

Those of House Stygian who were assigned to the mission had gathered at the consulate where Lady Illayia Caliat Stygian’s arcanist opened a portal to their destination..

 The mist rested softly on the mountain peaks like a cloth draped over a pillow. The moonlight tried to break through the clouds, spilling onto the tall, green grass wet with dew. The vast valleys and glens that surrounded the landscape seemed endless. This is the lands of the ancients, and you can feel their presence in the very earth beneath your feet. The expanse of the lush greenery was breathtaking. The mountain peaked were topped with ivory snow at the very top, with cascades of green that clung to the rocky sides. Splashes of purple were scattered around from the thistle and heather that sprouted from the fertile soils. Along the valley under Stygian’s feet, yellow daffodils brushed along their ankles and spread in thick clusters as far as the eye could see. Sheep, freshly wooled, were grazing along their pasture. A small creek ran by, pouring out of the nearby woodland and filled the air with a bubbling melody of running water.

 Up the road, there was a slate roofed farmhouse. The farm grew up out of the pale green hills as if it had always been part of the scenery. The house itself was a beautiful brick, the colors being the hues of the land herself, rustic brown striations on grey rock. Upon the rolling fields grew potatoes, turnips and other root related vegetables. Beyond the farm, several leagues off rested a quaint village. At the center of it all towered what appeared to be a church. It’s height towered over the rest of the buildings that circled it, and it’s brick had darkened with age, giving it’s Gothic steeples an eerie appearance. On top of it all, at the very top where the clouds parted...the moon hung low and large, and blood red in color.

The moon drew the attention of everyone, as they wondered if it had something to do with why they were asked to come here and discussed why the moon was red.

Dilleana Escanlon, House Stygian’s Director of the Battalion, let out a low hum. "Well...to be honest." She paused and flickered her ambers skyward. "I have no idea if that's even relevant to what's going on here. The Circle caught wind of a rumor, which of course I then heard...and this isn't the first time I've asked help from Stygian in regards to druidic matters. But basically, this village has been plagued by something lupine in nature, started stirring up a lot of local lore...so it also could be nothing. "

 “Lupine? Like a worgen?”  Dardillien asked as he turned to their leader.

“So we have a feral worgen or a pack of rabid wolves?” Mozelle, the second in command behind Dilleana, also asked.

The group discussed the possibilities of what the creature could be, from a worgen, to a shaman wolf spirit, to rabid wolves, and even the wolf cult.  After the discussion, Dilleana took to her bird form to survey the area around from the skies while Mozelle led the group on the ground.  As the group drew closer to the farm house, the lights inside had long since been blown out for the night. Had it not been so late, one might have thought that the home had all together been abandoned. However, by the look of the drying line of clothes outside, it was still indeed inhabited. Suddenly, The bells rang in a peal. Normally this would signal a wedding or Sunday service. But it was midnight and the clanging that echoed through the valley was chaotic rather than melodic. It was a warning.  The farmstead showed no sign of movement in it as the bells rung out so the group turned towards the source of the ringing, they noticed in the center of the village an animal chained to an altar, and in front of it the body of a person.  With Mozelle at the head, the group made it’s way into the village toward the altar to investigate.

As the bells chimed, the whole village came to life. Lights of candles flickered in the windows before citizens, painted Dwarves in nature emerged from their homes. They all began to flock to the church, looking at the outsiders in slight confusion, but it appeared the panic got the best of them. A few people seemed to stop on their way to the church however, and screamed in horror. One woman fainted by the altar, causing the rest of the citizens to gather around and chatter.  

Mozelle, Illayia, and the other members of House Stygian gathered around the altar to investigate while Dardillien kept his eyes peeled and continued to survey around the village, checking for any suspicious activity using his enhanced senses to sniff the area and listen for anything. After a short time, the worgen returned to the rest of group to see what they discovered, and tell them the area seemed clear.

At the altar stood a sheep,chained to a metal stake in the ground. While most of the women and children rushed for the church, a few men were carrying the woman who had fainted off. The body that laid before the altar was female, young, and very bloodied. Long claw marks ripped down her torso, shredding the fabric of her dress. The bleeding had long stopped, and body just started to go cold. No pool of blood lay beside her, indicating that she had probably been moved.

"Looks like it was either a worg — which do exist in the area — or a worgen. I'd lean towards worgen, as both wolves and worgs prefer to bite their prey and clawing is supplementary to biting, whereas worgen are more inclined to claw." Mozelle spoke up as she examined the woman’s corpse, “She wasn't killed here. The body was moved postmortem, as you can see by the lack of blood on the altar.”

"From my experience, worgen prefer to bite if they are feral, they tend to go for the neck or shoulder."  Dardillien said in response to Mozelle’s remark.

The poor sheep was huddled as far away as he could from the surrounding people, shaking and wide eyed in his fear. At one point he tried to bolt, but upon the yank of his chain he began to pace. By now the group of men that were by the alter were startingto take attention to Mozelle and company. A few were specifically looking at Dardillien in an accusing manner. Hush whispered began to form before one dwarf addressed the group. He was a short, stubby old man, bald and black bearded with blue tattoos streaked across the shiny head. "Woo ye' be?"

Mozelle began to explain to the Dwarf, who seemed to be the leader of this community, that they were there to assist the Cenarion Circle in this mystery of the lupine creature, however the elder Dwarf was hard of hearing and had never heard of the Cenarion Circle and began ranting about how the village had a pact with the ‘hine’ and it broke it by killing the young female.  Meanwhile, Dardillien took a look around the area at the scared people's faces as they stared and whispered.. pointing at him, Damn.. Why did I show up here in worgen form? I am an idiot, these people are terrified of a lupine creature.. Dardillien thought to himself before beginning to revert back to his human form.  As he reverted, the townspeople seemed even more freaked and concerned. A few began to slowly approach him, hands raised in a defensive yet predatory manner.

"Would you like any assistance with handling this hine?" Mozelle offered to the elder Dwarf.

"Ye' already 'ot on right there~!" He threw up a heavy hand, pointing an accusing finger towards Dardillien. "And we gon' keep him 'round here. Ye' all be outlanders, outsiders. Suddenly ye' show up wi' a hine and we 'ot a dead girl? Somethin' ain't right!"

Mozelle shrugged. "I have no objections to you detaining him. However, we did not even enter town until after the woman was dead."

"Ah, likely story. But if ya' so sure it ain't yer hine responsible for this...then we -will- detain him until we know why the pact was broken!" The elder Dwarf yelled, “We know about the hine! They can't go on to holy ground, silver is deadly, and normally a bite is fatal but a scarlet moon'll change ye!"

During all this Dardillien watched as the other Dwarven men approached cautiously, he did not resist and only put his hands up to show he meant them no harm.  The Dwarves quickly grabbed him and pulled his arms behind his back, putting silver shackles around his wrists to keep him detained... he knew these silver shackles did nothing, but he did not want to cause anymore trouble by changing and breaking free, they were there to help these people.  The men walked Dardillien to the same stake that held the sheep and secured his chains to it, pushing him to the ground.

After Dardillien was contained, he merely sat quietly while Illayia got the attention of the elder Dwarf and asked about the farmhouse they had seen up the road, as well as asking where the hine usually resides.  The Dwarf answered all the questions, informing them that the house belonged to the Stonemiller’s, the parents of the girl who had been killed, and that the hine usually resided in a cave west of the farmhouse.  Mozelle simply waved off the situation with Dardillien and explained that the rest of their group will go investigate the farmhouse, however the elder Dwarf still did not trust the members of House Stygian and had three of other Dwarves accompany the group to their destination.

As Mozelle led the group to the farmhouse, Illayia stopped and looked to Dardillien, “Shall one of us stay behind to make sure Dardillien is kept well?” 

“If you want.” Mozelle answered. With that, the others made their way out of the village while Illayia remained behind with Dardillien and the two Dwarves that stood guard over him.

"Bal'a dash. I see you have not used the familiar well." Illayia addressed Dardillien.

"What do you mean? I have used it a decent amount."

"You could have hidden away."

"I didn’t think to.  Besides, if I used it to go invisible when they began approaching that would have only caused more problems and suspicion..” He sighed, “ Anyways, you should go help the others, they may need you if worgen are involved.  I will be fine here."

"I would rather not leave you here completely undefended."

 A couple hours went by and the others had not returned, Dardillien lifted his head towards Illayia who looked around town as if counting and then she hummed quietly as she idly glanced toward the church.  She pursed her lips and waved a hand, the arcanist worked an old hat trick and made it sound as if a wolf were echoing from behind the church itself.The two Dwarves that stood by Dardillien turned their heads. The one who was actually alert, immediately got up and ran towards the back of the the church. The other, having been digging for gold in his nose, looked confused for a moment before huffing and puffing after the other guard. 

 Illayia moved to Dardillien's side and took his arm, helping him up to his feet, "Let us make haste. I can only throw the sound so far before they realize it is but an illusion."

Dardillien watched as the two Dwaves ran off to towards the church, confused by what was happening, he then shifts into his worgen form breaking he shackles that detained him and following Illayia out of the village to safety. He followed the Ren’dorei as they made their way back to their original location when they first arrived in the area through the portal.  Along the way Illayia explained the situation, and what the others had discovered in their investigation as Dilleana and Illayia had been communicating mentally through magic...

The others had gone to the Stonemiller’s farmhouse where they discovered the the young woman’s bedroom window had been left open, but her bed was all made, so they suspected that she had snuck out earlier in the night.  Their suspicion was correct, as the group discovered one of the Dwarves that had accompanied them was the woman’s lover, he had planned to meet her outside of the village and ask her to marry him, but he was held up working at his workshop and never showed made it.  Dilleana had found a splattering of blood and torn cloth while observing the area from the sky, she informed the others before leading them to it. Once there, Mia’kua, a Draenei priestess of the House, used her abilities to peak into the realm of spirits where she discovered the truth about what happened.  The young girl had been waiting for her lover to arrive when a worgen showed up and began to argue with her, Mia’kua was only to pick out bits and pieces, but heard the word “cheating” said and shortly afterwards the worgen went into a rage and killed the woman.

This meant two things.  First, the worgen was not feral like they believed but actually intelligent... Second, this meant it was out of their jurisdiction, and they could no longer help in the matter.  House Stygian was asked for help in the matter by the Cenarion Circle because they believed the issue was one involving nature such as a feral worgen, or pack of rabid wolves, etc.. however, this was just a case of murder, there was nothing they could do.  The decision was soon made to abort the mission, save Dardillien, and evacuate the area.

Illayia finished explaining while her and Dardillien arrived the original destination and they waited for the others to return.  This news upset Dardillien... he didn’t like that they were just running away, but they did not have a choice and he had to respect the decision, however he wished the worgen could have been brought to justice for the murder of the young woman..

Several minutes later the rest of the group arrived after losing the three Dwarves that had accompanied them, Illayia began waving her hands in the air before finally opening a portal to Stormwind, and one by one everyone entered the portal returning to the consulate.  Their mission a success and they did what they were asked to do, investigate the area and find out what kind of creature was plaguing the village.. However, Dardillien couldn’t help feel like they failed since the worgen was not brought to justice, as his services were no longer required he headed back to his townhouse to get some rest.

(Mentions @housestygian  This was a really fun event!  Again thank you to Dilleana for hosting it, and I hope I somewhat did it justice I wanted to do it from Dardillien’s perspective and so because of this I had to cut down all the investigation stuff since he ended up being detained which was not expected.  This post would have been much longer if I included everything.  Hahaha.)

[queenofmahishmati]

Fan fic title: the tailor's day out.

hi anon, have you met my wacky romantic side yet??

↠ the tailor’s day out

you are a junior seamstress, working in the royal household, who is waiting for a chance to prove her skills and perhaps catch the eyes of the handsome crown prince as well. the royal coronation is announced and the chief seamstress asks the young women working under her to come up with a design each, and whoever’s work impresses the prince will be appointed the next chief. you come back to your home that is by the edge of the kingdom and all night, you rant at the full moon about your love for the prince and your desire to create the most beautiful coat that ever existed so he’d fall in love with you. in the morning though, you find a gorgeous man with hair so white like the silver moonbeams themselves, on your doorstep. he says he heard your ambitions and now he wants you to create the most beautiful dress that could ever exist, so he, the prince of the moon faeries can woo the princess of the woodland kingdom. he promises your heart’s deepest desire in return and refuses to take no for an answer. not believing even a single word of the mad man, you humour him by asking for the most impossible things you can think of to create this dress he requests– pure white wool as smooth as silk, the diamond snowflake of the first snow fall of the year, golden pearls like the sunshine itself, fairy dust for the aesthetic and yards and yards of unbreakable gossamer to bring it all together. he proposes to take you with him on the quest for the items and you agree more out of curiosity only to have the wildest journey of your life time. you collect everything before sundown, along with a little something you never expected to find between the two of you ever– love. you work your magic that night and before sunrise, you have the most beautiful dress that you ever made with a matching coat. you carefully wrap the dress up and hand it to the faery prince, telling him all it needs is his selfless love to be the most perfect gift that the princess can just not refuse and he bids you goodbye with a sad smile while you make your own way to the castle with the coat for your prince and a hollow heart. it is only when the crown prince picks your coat saying it can only be the work of true love do you realize you never made a wish and now that you know what you want, you wish for your moon prince to come back so you can tell him he was your heart’s desire, after all. 

(( **sticks tongue out at anon** what were you even thinking when you gave that prompt to someone as crazy as me ))

for send me a title and I will give you a synopsis ⇢

[istanbulgaybars]

Well, you are beautiful, and they have eyes as keen as mine

His hand detained her, very gently. Indeed, it seemed to him he could never tire of noting her excellencies. Perhaps it was that splendid light poise of her head he chiefly loved; he thought so at least, just now. Or was it the wonder of her walk, which made all other women he had ever known appear to mince and hobble, like rusty toys?

Something there was assuredly about this slim brown girl which recalled an untamed and harmless woodland creature; and it was that, he knew, which most poignantly moved him, even though he could not name it. Perhaps it was her bright kind eyes, which seemed to mirror the tranquillity of forests.

“You gentry are always talking of love,” she marveled.

Oh, he said, with acerbity, “oh, I don’t doubt that any number of beet-gorging squires and leering, long-legged Oxford dandies” He broke off here, and laughed contemptuously, “Well, you are beautiful, and they have eyes as keen as mine. And I do not blame you, my dear, for believing my designs to be no more commendable than theirs no, not at all.”

But his mood was spoiled, and his tetchy vanity hurt, by the thought of stout_ well-set fellows having wooed this girl; and he permitted her to go without protest.

Attend matter

Yet he sat alone for a while upon the fallen tree-trunk, humming a contented little tune. Never in his life had he been happier. He did not venture to suppose that any creature so adorable could love such a sickly hunchback, such a gargoyle of a man, as he was; but that Sarah was fond of him, he knew. There would be no trouble in arranging with her father for their marriage, most certainly; and he meant to attend to that matter this very morning, and within ten minutes. So Mr. Alexander Pope was meanwhile arranging in his mind a suitable wording for his declaration of marital aspirations.

Thus John Gay found him presently and roused him from phrase spinning. “And what shall we do this morning, Alexander?” Gay was always demanding, like a spoiled child, to be amused.

Pope told him what his own plans were, speaking quite simply, but with his countenance radiant. Gay took off his hat and wiped his forehead, for the day was warm. He did not say anything at all.

“Well?” Mr. Pope asked, after a pause.

Mr. Gay was dubious. “I had never thought that you would marry,” he said. “And why, hang it, Alexander! to grow enamored of a milkmaid is well enough for the hero of a poem, but in a poet it hints at injudicious composition.”

S: https://istanbul.tourhints.info/a-brown-woman-part-2/

[istanbulcistern]

Well, you are beautiful, and they have eyes as keen as mine

His hand detained her, very gently. Indeed, it seemed to him he could never tire of noting her excellencies. Perhaps it was that splendid light poise of her head he chiefly loved; he thought so at least, just now. Or was it the wonder of her walk, which made all other women he had ever known appear to mince and hobble, like rusty toys?

Something there was assuredly about this slim brown girl which recalled an untamed and harmless woodland creature; and it was that, he knew, which most poignantly moved him, even though he could not name it. Perhaps it was her bright kind eyes, which seemed to mirror the tranquillity of forests.

“You gentry are always talking of love,” she marveled.

Oh, he said, with acerbity, “oh, I don’t doubt that any number of beet-gorging squires and leering, long-legged Oxford dandies” He broke off here, and laughed contemptuously, “Well, you are beautiful, and they have eyes as keen as mine. And I do not blame you, my dear, for believing my designs to be no more commendable than theirs no, not at all.”

But his mood was spoiled, and his tetchy vanity hurt, by the thought of stout_ well-set fellows having wooed this girl; and he permitted her to go without protest.

Attend matter

Yet he sat alone for a while upon the fallen tree-trunk, humming a contented little tune. Never in his life had he been happier. He did not venture to suppose that any creature so adorable could love such a sickly hunchback, such a gargoyle of a man, as he was; but that Sarah was fond of him, he knew. There would be no trouble in arranging with her father for their marriage, most certainly; and he meant to attend to that matter this very morning, and within ten minutes. So Mr. Alexander Pope was meanwhile arranging in his mind a suitable wording for his declaration of marital aspirations.

Thus John Gay found him presently and roused him from phrase spinning. “And what shall we do this morning, Alexander?” Gay was always demanding, like a spoiled child, to be amused.

Pope told him what his own plans were, speaking quite simply, but with his countenance radiant. Gay took off his hat and wiped his forehead, for the day was warm. He did not say anything at all.

“Well?” Mr. Pope asked, after a pause.

Mr. Gay was dubious. “I had never thought that you would marry,” he said. “And why, hang it, Alexander! to grow enamored of a milkmaid is well enough for the hero of a poem, but in a poet it hints at injudicious composition.”

S: https://istanbul.tourhints.info/a-brown-woman-part-2/

[istanbularttr]

Well, you are beautiful, and they have eyes as keen as mine

His hand detained her, very gently. Indeed, it seemed to him he could never tire of noting her excellencies. Perhaps it was that splendid light poise of her head he chiefly loved; he thought so at least, just now. Or was it the wonder of her walk, which made all other women he had ever known appear to mince and hobble, like rusty toys?

Something there was assuredly about this slim brown girl which recalled an untamed and harmless woodland creature; and it was that, he knew, which most poignantly moved him, even though he could not name it. Perhaps it was her bright kind eyes, which seemed to mirror the tranquillity of forests.

“You gentry are always talking of love,” she marveled.

Oh, he said, with acerbity, “oh, I don’t doubt that any number of beet-gorging squires and leering, long-legged Oxford dandies” He broke off here, and laughed contemptuously, “Well, you are beautiful, and they have eyes as keen as mine. And I do not blame you, my dear, for believing my designs to be no more commendable than theirs no, not at all.”

But his mood was spoiled, and his tetchy vanity hurt, by the thought of stout_ well-set fellows having wooed this girl; and he permitted her to go without protest.

Attend matter

Yet he sat alone for a while upon the fallen tree-trunk, humming a contented little tune. Never in his life had he been happier. He did not venture to suppose that any creature so adorable could love such a sickly hunchback, such a gargoyle of a man, as he was; but that Sarah was fond of him, he knew. There would be no trouble in arranging with her father for their marriage, most certainly; and he meant to attend to that matter this very morning, and within ten minutes. So Mr. Alexander Pope was meanwhile arranging in his mind a suitable wording for his declaration of marital aspirations.

Thus John Gay found him presently and roused him from phrase spinning. “And what shall we do this morning, Alexander?” Gay was always demanding, like a spoiled child, to be amused.

Pope told him what his own plans were, speaking quite simply, but with his countenance radiant. Gay took off his hat and wiped his forehead, for the day was warm. He did not say anything at all.

“Well?” Mr. Pope asked, after a pause.

Mr. Gay was dubious. “I had never thought that you would marry,” he said. “And why, hang it, Alexander! to grow enamored of a milkmaid is well enough for the hero of a poem, but in a poet it hints at injudicious composition.”

S: https://istanbul.tourhints.info/a-brown-woman-part-2/

[streetofistanbul]

Well, you are beautiful, and they have eyes as keen as mine

His hand detained her, very gently. Indeed, it seemed to him he could never tire of noting her excellencies. Perhaps it was that splendid light poise of her head he chiefly loved; he thought so at least, just now. Or was it the wonder of her walk, which made all other women he had ever known appear to mince and hobble, like rusty toys?

Something there was assuredly about this slim brown girl which recalled an untamed and harmless woodland creature; and it was that, he knew, which most poignantly moved him, even though he could not name it. Perhaps it was her bright kind eyes, which seemed to mirror the tranquillity of forests.

“You gentry are always talking of love,” she marveled.

Oh, he said, with acerbity, “oh, I don’t doubt that any number of beet-gorging squires and leering, long-legged Oxford dandies” He broke off here, and laughed contemptuously, “Well, you are beautiful, and they have eyes as keen as mine. And I do not blame you, my dear, for believing my designs to be no more commendable than theirs no, not at all.”

But his mood was spoiled, and his tetchy vanity hurt, by the thought of stout_ well-set fellows having wooed this girl; and he permitted her to go without protest.

Attend matter

Yet he sat alone for a while upon the fallen tree-trunk, humming a contented little tune. Never in his life had he been happier. He did not venture to suppose that any creature so adorable could love such a sickly hunchback, such a gargoyle of a man, as he was; but that Sarah was fond of him, he knew. There would be no trouble in arranging with her father for their marriage, most certainly; and he meant to attend to that matter this very morning, and within ten minutes. So Mr. Alexander Pope was meanwhile arranging in his mind a suitable wording for his declaration of marital aspirations.

Thus John Gay found him presently and roused him from phrase spinning. “And what shall we do this morning, Alexander?” Gay was always demanding, like a spoiled child, to be amused.

Pope told him what his own plans were, speaking quite simply, but with his countenance radiant. Gay took off his hat and wiped his forehead, for the day was warm. He did not say anything at all.

“Well?” Mr. Pope asked, after a pause.

Mr. Gay was dubious. “I had never thought that you would marry,” he said. “And why, hang it, Alexander! to grow enamored of a milkmaid is well enough for the hero of a poem, but in a poet it hints at injudicious composition.”

S: https://istanbul.tourhints.info/a-brown-woman-part-2/

[religionistanbul]

Well, you are beautiful, and they have eyes as keen as mine

His hand detained her, very gently. Indeed, it seemed to him he could never tire of noting her excellencies. Perhaps it was that splendid light poise of her head he chiefly loved; he thought so at least, just now. Or was it the wonder of her walk, which made all other women he had ever known appear to mince and hobble, like rusty toys?

Something there was assuredly about this slim brown girl which recalled an untamed and harmless woodland creature; and it was that, he knew, which most poignantly moved him, even though he could not name it. Perhaps it was her bright kind eyes, which seemed to mirror the tranquillity of forests.

“You gentry are always talking of love,” she marveled.

Oh, he said, with acerbity, “oh, I don’t doubt that any number of beet-gorging squires and leering, long-legged Oxford dandies” He broke off here, and laughed contemptuously, “Well, you are beautiful, and they have eyes as keen as mine. And I do not blame you, my dear, for believing my designs to be no more commendable than theirs no, not at all.”

But his mood was spoiled, and his tetchy vanity hurt, by the thought of stout_ well-set fellows having wooed this girl; and he permitted her to go without protest.

Attend matter

Yet he sat alone for a while upon the fallen tree-trunk, humming a contented little tune. Never in his life had he been happier. He did not venture to suppose that any creature so adorable could love such a sickly hunchback, such a gargoyle of a man, as he was; but that Sarah was fond of him, he knew. There would be no trouble in arranging with her father for their marriage, most certainly; and he meant to attend to that matter this very morning, and within ten minutes. So Mr. Alexander Pope was meanwhile arranging in his mind a suitable wording for his declaration of marital aspirations.

Thus John Gay found him presently and roused him from phrase spinning. “And what shall we do this morning, Alexander?” Gay was always demanding, like a spoiled child, to be amused.

Pope told him what his own plans were, speaking quite simply, but with his countenance radiant. Gay took off his hat and wiped his forehead, for the day was warm. He did not say anything at all.

“Well?” Mr. Pope asked, after a pause.

Mr. Gay was dubious. “I had never thought that you would marry,” he said. “And why, hang it, Alexander! to grow enamored of a milkmaid is well enough for the hero of a poem, but in a poet it hints at injudicious composition.”

S: https://istanbul.tourhints.info/a-brown-woman-part-2/

[newcityistanbul]

Well, you are beautiful, and they have eyes as keen as mine

His hand detained her, very gently. Indeed, it seemed to him he could never tire of noting her excellencies. Perhaps it was that splendid light poise of her head he chiefly loved; he thought so at least, just now. Or was it the wonder of her walk, which made all other women he had ever known appear to mince and hobble, like rusty toys?

Something there was assuredly about this slim brown girl which recalled an untamed and harmless woodland creature; and it was that, he knew, which most poignantly moved him, even though he could not name it. Perhaps it was her bright kind eyes, which seemed to mirror the tranquillity of forests.

“You gentry are always talking of love,” she marveled.

Oh, he said, with acerbity, “oh, I don’t doubt that any number of beet-gorging squires and leering, long-legged Oxford dandies” He broke off here, and laughed contemptuously, “Well, you are beautiful, and they have eyes as keen as mine. And I do not blame you, my dear, for believing my designs to be no more commendable than theirs no, not at all.”

But his mood was spoiled, and his tetchy vanity hurt, by the thought of stout_ well-set fellows having wooed this girl; and he permitted her to go without protest.

Attend matter

Yet he sat alone for a while upon the fallen tree-trunk, humming a contented little tune. Never in his life had he been happier. He did not venture to suppose that any creature so adorable could love such a sickly hunchback, such a gargoyle of a man, as he was; but that Sarah was fond of him, he knew. There would be no trouble in arranging with her father for their marriage, most certainly; and he meant to attend to that matter this very morning, and within ten minutes. So Mr. Alexander Pope was meanwhile arranging in his mind a suitable wording for his declaration of marital aspirations.

Thus John Gay found him presently and roused him from phrase spinning. “And what shall we do this morning, Alexander?” Gay was always demanding, like a spoiled child, to be amused.

Pope told him what his own plans were, speaking quite simply, but with his countenance radiant. Gay took off his hat and wiped his forehead, for the day was warm. He did not say anything at all.

“Well?” Mr. Pope asked, after a pause.

Mr. Gay was dubious. “I had never thought that you would marry,” he said. “And why, hang it, Alexander! to grow enamored of a milkmaid is well enough for the hero of a poem, but in a poet it hints at injudicious composition.”

S: https://istanbul.tourhints.info/a-brown-woman-part-2/

[libidomechanica]

That it going

Her blood were for they h ave a place, till its little  heart all worse same sans merciless. And  truth: and as a tide 

in them south, howeer ye hae  tint my bed. Whose parting with  such fair good example, fire-

side the strawberries,  they would make the young void was  madness sweet to  touch was like the  Fathers like a librarian  in Alfonsos marriage; and  chaste unfortune to faint  heart shall rouse a feeling stand, though 

by touched behind, althought in  vain, and in her breast deep into 

his experience  with childe then, long 

some are branch. “How long since it  overfly they re-enterd oerstep  these affection. (Poore Layman  I, for a calf in her 

pale: heavn scarce could hardest science- fiction, and looking for, 

which the moon, who in 

the and fight wet was  with buds, and  his freeze Such odour thorn, his  dead! snatchd his late to  keep good or ill: Prayrs; me out each 

other sumptuous wom an a” her woes. her sobs, melissa  knell; till the things  we see—who doubt she gave your true w hen he tried two are  indeeds the fieldes and pleasure,  and taken to  troll a closer into  detail made  some iouisaunce, emong the third, the  poet drags into  the Town.) But all wear  red with no stars, both  Loue decrepit age her mistresses  have way that it  straight that his present 

love-knot in vain lost,  but in boils again. S obscure;  her for to 

another, quite a boar, that 

myself Some forth stroke of Ichar,  and her hair. the door. “ Tis true philosopher way. The  field the spectral restrainte?  Very clever what watching  the heavenly mother sessions  them to thee? Assistance 

on thy prides beautiful thats rather  wonted least nor not  trust instead, women, every  shadow makes you, let the 

wisp that she is dying as  from the bee: and  are given to govern  d—n. And mild Muse with  chasing, her pleasure, both  in a crescent moon; here 

people do, suffer tyrants and you  stood up annals, revenge—especially  to woo her,  Im afraid; but whet my  faints I see how suddenly translates  their hospital; at first and  had a rustic, woodland  song, Cyril, however, mine. ”D  up an ugly night behind I will  in thine own true sublime:  lady Fitz-Plantage on pranks of  way we talking of your  world forget me can you grew  light before shore. Things there.  Which purchased by and grief; all night,  and fight be sin most  difficult in wonderd in vain.  With my hero;  no more than they hie the  minds contagious, just as  every sly—she hath ceasd their  station on your order. 

Imprisond in them years, too,  be bless my youths rays, to  prologue is making. And  so i can livering jest.