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jovialmoonprincess · 11 months ago

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AU: Journey to Redemption (Part 7)

Loving him was Red

Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

First Part. / The Winter Ball / Champagne Problems / Frost and Thorns / The Storm Within / In Silence, We Crumble / Loving him was Red

Summary: Y/N meets the mysterious woman again and ends up accepting a proposal from Coryo.

Warning(s): None, enemy to lovers, back in time, destiny, Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Y/N was so hurried that, upon getting off the train, she barely noticed the mysterious woman waiting for her at the station.

"Y/N," the woman called, and she recognized her instantly.

"Sorry?" The woman's appearance, deeply engraved in her mind, evoked recent memories.

"How are you?"

"I have so many questions," Y/N said as she approached the woman, somewhat desperate. This month had been the most confusing of her life.

"I know, dear. Come with me." The woman guided Y/N to the quieter part of the station. "You can ask."

They sat close. Y/N wanted to know many things: the woman's name, if she was from the future or the present, what her future would be like, among others.

"Am I doing something right? Has anything really changed?" She didn't know if the woman could know that, but it was the question that tormented her the most. And it didn't seem like the woman would stay for long.

"Y/N, everything has changed since the moment we first saw each other." The vague answer didn't please Y/N. The woman noticed the girl's confused expression and added, "Everything I showed you happened over and over again. I know it by heart." The woman spoke as if it were something tiresome for her to repeat.

"Coriolanus wins the Games. He's intelligent and cunning. But the real game begins when he is sent to District 12 as a Peacekeeper. He tries to create a new life, a new image, but the past cannot be erased." The vision of Coriolanus shooting the birds resurfaced in Y/N's mind. She remained silent, allowing the woman to continue.

"He gets involved with Lucy Gray. A romance that seems destined, but things fall apart when Lucy discovers Coriolanus's role in the death of Sejanus Plinth, her best friend. Unknowingly, he sealed Sejanus's fate by denouncing him to the Capitol."

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the weight of betrayal and tragedy. "He… he betrays his own friend?"

The woman nodded with regret. "Coriolanus's past haunts him, and Sejanus's shadow hangs over him. Lucy Gray, discovering the truth, can't overcome the betrayal. Their relationship crumbles, leaving Coriolanus with the weight of his choices."

Y/N was immersed in dark thoughts. "This is horrible. He condemned his own friend to death?"

"The line between ally and enemy, loyalty and betrayal, is thin in the Hunger Games and in the Capitol. Coriolanus, in his quest for survival, will pay a high price. But you, Y/N, have a role to play in all of this." Y/N's eyes widened in surprise.

The woman smiled enigmatically. "The future is woven by many threads, and each choice, each action, creates a new plot. You have the power to change things, to influence events. The question is: what will you do with this information?" Y/N felt a knot forming in her stomach. Faced with a crossroads, she understood that the choices she made would shape not only the destiny of Coriolanus Snow but also her own.

"I…" she murmured, "I don't know."

The woman reached out, gently touching Y/N's shoulder. "The answers will unfold at the right moment. Keep in mind that life is not just a dichotomy between black and white; it moves in shades of gray, where true choices manifest. Trust your intuition and strengthen yourself. When the boy is close, you will need to take a firm stand, without concessions. Treat him as the antagonist that destiny will turn him into. Don't tolerate his selfish actions, but also avoid closing the doors to the possibility of understanding. Find the balance between assertiveness and discernment, as it is in that space that true influences will shape the course of events."

Y/N involuntarily closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the woman was no longer there. Leaving Y/N alone with her reflections and the weight of the revelations she carried. The destiny, now, was more intertwined than ever, and Y/N felt the urgency to make decisions that could alter the course of events.

She then thought about what the woman said, about what ended Coryo and Lucy Gray's relationship. If she could prevent Coriolanus from betraying Sejanus, that could change everything. However, she wondered how she could achieve such a feat. She wouldn't have the possibility to follow him to the District after the Games. She needed to find a way to influence him before, to the point where, in addition to questioning the idea, he would choose not to betray Sejanus.

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

Y/N woke up in her bed as usual, the events lingering in her mind like an enigmatic dream. She got up, changed her clothes, and noticed her nightstand. There was a glass of water with the two roses she had taken from the boy. She followed her morning routine and hurried out of her apartment towards the block of classrooms.

After class, she went straight to the study room, where she found only a blond boy sitting at one of the tables. She thought about leaving as quickly as possible, but he was already standing, calling her.

"Y/N!" The blond exclaimed, interrupting her.

Y/N didn't need to talk to him now; she wanted some time to think. Besides, she had slept very poorly that night.

"I need to talk to you." Oh, now he wanted to talk? A wave of nervousness washed over the girl. Did each of his calls demand an immediate response, as if ignoring them could unleash disastrous consequences? Her patience was about to run out, but if there was a chance to help the boy, it would be on her terms, staying true to herself. She decided to ignore the calls.

Coriolanus was faster, grabbing her arm, making her turn involuntarily. For a moment, she forgot that one step of the boy was equivalent to three of hers.

"I wanted to apologize," he said, like an orphaned puppy in a pet shop wanting to be adopted. Too bad because Y/N didn't believe.

"Do you think words fix everything, don't you? You can hit someone, then just do your tricks, flip your hair, and it's over?" She gestured while venting. "I don't believe in any word that comes out of your mouth, Coriolanus. You lie. You deceive. How can you? Talking about the districts, criticizing their way of dealing with grief." She seemed genuinely hurt by this.

"I know, I know, and I've reflected a lot on it since that day. I was wrong."

"There should be a District 14 just for people like you, shallow and soulless." Y/N's voice was full of provocation. "You and Clemensia can be mayor and first lady there, what do you think?" The boy just laughed. Wouldn't the Capitol be that place?

"How did you know? I'm here in person to invite you to be my first lady." The boy approached dangerously with a smile on his face.

"Well, I refuse. We don't make a beautiful couple," the girl teased. This made the boy approach even more, placing a hand on her waist and pulling her closer.

"Unfortunately, I have to disagree with you," he replied quietly, his voice raspier than usual, staring at her rosy lips without disguising it. Y/N's breath was already uneven.

"Sorry for my harsh words. I don't expect you to forgive me immediately, but I ask you to pay more attention to my actions from now on. Because it will be through them that I will redeem myself."

"Let's see," the girl replied. Now it was the boy's turn to put a rose behind her ear. Another one for his collection of roses in her apartment. One thing caught her attention: the rose in her hair was red. Could she see it in her peripheral vision?

"Red?" Snow's roses were always white. Y/N raised an eyebrow, surprised by Coriolanus's gesture. There was something different in the boy's expression, a sincerity she had never seen before. Perhaps, just perhaps, he was trying to change.

"I thought it would suit you better," he said. She really wanted to believe that the boy had gone up to the rooftop and chosen a special rose to give to the girl. But it was very hard to believe. What color would he give to Lucy Gray? The girl stepped back suddenly. "I wanted it to be different this time," Coriolanus admitted, his serious gaze meeting hers. "Snow's roses are white, but… I thought maybe it was time to change."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, surprised by the explanation. Coriolanus Snow, the boy she knew, was defying family traditions. Was this a genuine sign of change?

"Coryo, I know you had just come from the arena. It was very difficult. But you didn't lie. You said something that was really inside you. And that's what scares me the most." Coryo didn't know how to respond; he wanted her to believe him. He wanted to retort, speak, shout, anything that would make the girl stay there, but Y/N had already moved away and continued toward the exit.

Coriolanus watched Y/N walk away, feeling the weight of her words and the complexity of the emotions the girl carried. A sudden impulse made him follow her, determined to defy expectations. "Wait, Y/N," he called, "I know words alone don't change the past, but I'm willing to prove that actions speak louder. Accept this: one night, where I can show you that I'm not just empty words."

He seemed really desperate.

"Okay," was all the girl said.

"Saturday night, I'll pick you up at 7 pm."

_______________________

Sorry for the delay, these days have been very busy for me. I had a huge creative block. This chapter is more for contextualization but the next one will have a lot of emotion and fluff <3

Taglist: @shari-berri @h-l-vlovesvintage @tea-bobba @daenerysqueenofhearts @commanderfreethatdust @glxzillx @write-from-the-heart @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @junipercloud03 @larissareadings @qardasngan

If you want to be friends with me on Instagram, click here.

#the hunger games #tbosas #angst #angst with a happy ending #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #enemy to lovers #fem reader #president snow #tom blyth #coryo snow #lucy gray baird #tbosbas #ballad of songbirds and snakes #josh andres rivera #snow #tigris snow

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captainsimagines · 2 years ago

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pretty woman, this is me trying || finale

Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader

Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers

Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

(14/14)

Mini-Series

Warnings: explicit language; reference to past SA; heartfelt confessions

Word Count: 2,000+

Author’s Note: Now, to be honest, I really hoped to make these chapters longer. But I wanted to published on Christmas Day and I haven’t had time to write all month. I truly hope I wrapped up this story well, and who knows? It could have epilogue next year or next month. I love you all. xxMoni

The day after Christmas was no better. Three times you had dressed and undressed, debating whether to leave your apartment and go speak with Bucky. You were both overthinking this and you were both in the wrong. Bucky shouldn’t have kept treating you like a flaky friend or kept his initial indecision a secret, and you shouldn’t have stormed away without hearing him out first.

You needed to see him. But your body wouldn’t let you get in your car and take matters into your own hands.

You flopped face-down onto your bed, releasing one long groan. When your lungs ached with the need for air, you sucked in a breath and repeated the process. Groaning until your throat was sore. You rolled over, instantly regretting it. You had washed your sheets, but not the pillowcases.

That heavenly mixture of snow and Starry Night. No swirling irises to accompany it, though.

“Do you want to come back the day after Christmas and show me how to jump?”

He chuckled, “It’s a date.”

You snapped up, replaying the words in your head.

Rockefeller Center, ice skating, the date.

Would Bucky remember? Would he even go?

You had to try. You missed Bucky, you missed Axel, you missed who you were when Bucky was with you. You missed the feeling of companionship. Of choosing who to spend that time with.

You didn’t want to be lonely anymore. Lainey would have kicked your ass all the way to Rockefeller by now, you bet.

After throwing on your winter jacket and boots, you sprinted out your front door, tripping only twice. Then turned back to your apartment, grabbed Bucky’s present, and repeated the tiring process of putting the key in the lock.

Stopping at Lainey’s old door, with absolutely no regard to whoever occupied it now, you declared, “I’m going to win him back. Because I love him, and I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“Are you sure she’ll be here?” Steve asked as he opened the car door for Bucky. Rockefeller Center looked to be even more crowded than the last time he had come. It was like a cruel joke, making the search for you that much harder.

“She was the one who suggested it,�� Bucky explained. “And if what you said is true, she’s not mad at me.”

“Oh, she was mad. Maybe not with you entirely, but she was mad.”

Bucky scowled at his friend, though he was grateful to have a second pair of eyes aiding him. Bucky was grasping at straws. Either you remembered that you had suggested this date and had the same idea as him, or you forgot and he was here when he should be at your apartment.

Or—the worse option—you had remembered and chosen not to come.

Bucky hadn’t really thought about what he would do if that was the case. He was a big boy, and although it would hurt him to bits, he would have to survive. Your time teaching him how to receive touch again would not be wasted. He promised himself that.

“You take one side and I take the other?” Steve suggested, adjusting the baseball cap. “Or do you want to stick together?”

“We can cover more ground separated,” Bucky replied. “Don’t worry. I’m okay.”

Steve studied him for a moment, then took his word. “Text me when you find her.”

Bucky nodded, watching as Steve blended into the crowd.

Step one: Pass through this chaos.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky prepared his mind. None of these people were out to get him and self-defense was not necessary. Most people were here with their family and friends, not plotting the end of the world with his metal fist in mind. He clutched your gift as he held it in his jacket pocket, then moved.

Bucky pushed through the crowd, apologizing for shoving people too hard and smacking his shoulders against them. Most people moved out of his way, allowing him some air. He searched every visible face, every occupied bench, every person exiting from the buildings. He guessed you would be near the ice rink considering that’s where the date was going to take place, but he still focused everywhere.

Someone’s shoulder brushed across his shoulder blades, paralyzing him for a moment. It was a quick touch, one that was over before he could truly dwell in it. His body told him to run back to the car, to find refuge in his mountain of blankets. That behind his apartment door is where he would be truly safe.

Though his body craved that comfortable feeling of safety, his idea of safety was no longer the loneliness found behind a closed door. His safety was encased in your touch, in your bedsheets, in your presence.

So he continued to push and shove through the crowd, counting his breaths and picturing your face. This was for you. It would always be for you.

His heart stopped as he took in your face for the first time since you walked away from him. You had painted your lips red and thrown on the same cardigan and jacket that had been hanging on the hook beside your front door for the entire month now. You caught his line of sight, freezing in place.

He pushed through the last of the crowd, stopping a few feet from you. You had your hands in your jacket pockets, but you were still shaking in your boots. Bucky wanted nothing more than to run to you and provide you some warmth, but there were words that needed to be said. Things that needed to be addressed.

“If you want to leave me, I will fight you.”

Your eyes widened a fraction at his unexpected declaration.

“When Stark told me to find a date, I refused because I physically could not swallow that reality. I said no, but I had no choice.”

He continued quickly when your face fell. “But I told Stark that I trusted his judgment. He gave me an out, but I had already met you. You were loud, and inappropriate, and reminded me of me from when I was young.”

“Bucky—”

“A part of my innocence was stolen from me long ago. And as much as it kills me, I know I’ll never get it back. I didn’t deserve to have it ripped from me. I deserved happiness, and a home to return to, and soft hands and soup and a little corner store to call my own. But life fucked me over, and I got none of that. I got tortured, and wiped, and… assaulted, in a thousand ways. And for the longest time, I thought they stole the whole of me. I thought there was no hope. That there were no soft touches left in the world. But you… You make me want to try again. You make me believe that people can still be good in this world. Because you’re good, and you’re good to me, and I love you. I love you more than hot chocolate, more than biscuits, more than the Santa Clause movies. I love you. And I want you. I’ve wanted you since the moment you threw your arms up and introduced yourself. I’ve wanted you since our first picnic. I’ve wanted you since the first touch. I want you, I love you, and I just pray that you want me, too. That you love me, too.”

Multiple tears dripped from your eyes and down your cheeks. And when Bucky reached up, he found his cheeks were wet as well.

“I don’t expect you to quit your job or be solely mine. But I find myself running under your sweet nothings and I don’t want to abandon that feeling just yet. So I declare, the day after Christmas and surrounded by strangers, that I choose you too. I am scared of the world, and what they think of me, but I am not scared of you.”

“Bucky.”

Bucky sucked in a wobbly breath and pulled the bracelet from his pocket. It was handmade, green, and had a little L carved into the stone.

L for Lainey.

You stopped in front of him, turning the bracelet over in your fingers. Then you let him put it on your wrist. You cupped his cheeks with your surprisingly warm hands. Bucky whimpered sweetly, chasing the heat.

“I think you are courage incarnate, Bucky Barnes. Believe it or not, but you make me want to be strong. I have been lonely for so long and you showed me that friendship was still a real thing. I thought I had lost it forever, doomed to be stuck in a world that did not appreciate me.”

Bucky laid his forehead against yours, nearly hiccuping as your words pierced through his burning heart.

“I am yours. Only yours. And I’m sorry for being in my head too often.”

You pulled out a pair of fancy, leather gloves in his size, blushing. “It’s not as sentimental as the bracelet, but—”

He pressed a deep kiss to your mouth, holding you close. His chest warmed against yours instantly. His knees only needed to bend slightly to reach your lips. Your pinkies curled perfectly around each other.

How had he not noticed this before?

“Take me home,” he whispered, using his thumbs to wipe your tears away.

You nodded against him. Then, you giggled uncontrollably, melting against him.

“What?”

“Don’t forget Steve.”

Bucky shot a surprised look down at you. “How did you—”

“I know what his eyes feel like boring into my back by now.”

Sure enough, Bucky glanced up to see Steve watching your exchange with a genuine smile on his face.

“Do you trust me?”

Steve huffed, his knuckles turning redder as his grip tightened against the railing. When Bucky had mentioned that Steve had always wanted to come to Rockefeller Center with him in the 1930s, you had assumed Steve knew how to ice skate. You didn’t expect a trembling Captain America scared to find his balance and refusing to let go of the support.

“I trust you, but if I fall then you’re going down with me by default.”

“Fair. Now let go of the railing,” you ordered, holding out your hand for him to take. You hadn’t told him you were a beginner ice skater yourself. But you figured, since Tony rented out the rink for private use for the next six hours, it was the perfect time to test this out.

Steve murmured a curse under his breath before reaching out his left hand. His right still held onto the railing, so he began stretching and involuntarily splitting his legs. “Help! Help!”

“Let go!” you laughed, taking his extended hand in your own. He slunk back together rather comically, wobbling as he gripped both your hands. “Now close your eyes and skate!”

“Wha—Why should I close my eyes?”

“It’s the only way to truly trust yourself!” you lied, sounding creepily authentic. You pushed off, taking him with you. He argued twice more before finally shutting his eyes, allowing you to lead him anywhere.

“There we go! You got it! Keep those eyes closed!”

He thankfully listened, unaware of where you were leading him. You would think his super soldier hearing would alert him of a new pair of skates on the ice, but his anxiety probably clouded his thoughts.

With a quick nod, you expertly exchanged Steve’s hands into Bucky’s.

Skating away but still at a close enough distance, you called out, “You can open your eyes now!”

Steve nearly tumbled, but his expression was one of pure elation. Uncontrollable, joyous laughter spilled from his mouth.

“Buck!”

Bucky only smiled, tugging Steve closer. Hand in hand, flesh on flesh, they skated the perimeter together. Not once did Bucky drop Steve’s hand.

It may have only been a battle won for Bucky, but this was an entire war won for Steve Rogers.

He was touching his best friend again. If it wasn’t for you, for Bucky’s determination and strength, it wouldn’t have been possible.

You skated to the railing and watched the childish men for the next hour, wiping away tears whenever they dropped from your eyes. Lifting your hands up, you snapped an imaginary picture. To save for later. To think about whenever you thought something was impossible.

Then you snapped another, a real one using your phone, for safekeeping.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #captainsimagines #finale #pretty woman finale #pretty woman au #marvel fanfiction #by Moni #holiday fanfic #holiday smut

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3raaaachachacha · 2 years ago

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7:32 pm

Sim Jaeyun x female reader / 573 words / fluff / suggestive

Warnings: suggestive themes

⊱ ──────────────────────── ⊰

The weather was going crazy outside, bringing on the perfect winter snowstorm for the holiday season. You didn’t mind the snow or even the cold, but you hated the body numbing wind that would tag along. Jake, on the other hand, wasn’t a huge fan of winter. With living in Australia most of his life, he hadn’t really seen snow, let alone a full snowstorm.

“Let’s go outside and make snow angels, babe,” You pouted playfully, trying to convince your boyfriend for the 8th time to enjoy the snow with you.

His arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he pulled you closer for warmth, resting his head onto of yours, “Baby, it’s snowing like crazy. You could get sick or hurt, you know how clumsy you are.”

You giggled into his chest, making his break into a cute smile as he waited for your response. You played with his shirt, drawing shapes into his tone chest, “I’ll be careful, I promise,” You quietly responsed.

He chuckled, his adorable laugh, before snuggling into you and placing a kiss to your forehead, “After the storm passes Y/N. We don’t want to get hurt or take chances when we are supposed to be relaxing on holiday. Plus, we have a lot of different activities we can do inside.”

“I guess, but I haven’t made a snow angel in forever,” You continued to pout, knowing he was right, but still being a little sad about it.

He peppered your face with kisses to break that little pout of yours, making your erupt in a fit of giggles, “Let me see that cute smile I fell in love with, baby! I don’t want to see you sad ever,” He tickled your sides lightly, making your squirm in his hold, “I’m not letting you out of my grip until you promise me to be happy on our little getaway.”

“Jake, I swear to god, if you don’t let me go,” You continued to giggled, while still trying to threaten your boyfriend.

“What? You’ll ignore me? You’ll go make snow angels yourself?” He jokingly shot back, making you scrunch your nose at him with sass as the two of you laughed together.

It was moments like these you cherished the most. Being alone with your boyfriend, enjoying the peaceful time together without any interruptions from work, friends, family, or the agency bugging him on when he was to practice or record. It was nice just being a normal couple sometimes.

“Fine, fine, you win!” You yelled out to get his attention, “Stop tickling me now, or I’ll start crying from laughing,” You joked, taking a hold of his hands to distract him.

“It’s a good thing I love you or I would keep tickling you just to see that gorgeous smile of yours,” He winked before pecking your lips playfully.

“Stop, I’m blushing Jake!” You covered your face, feeling the heat of your pink cheeks radiating into your cold palms.

Jake moved your hands from your face, smiling down at you before smirking to himself, “If your bored, I know how we can pass the time, babe,” He smiled, pressing a sweet yet passion kiss to your lips.

It wasn’t just the warmth of the fire radiating onto you. You could feel the love Jake held dearly for you in that moment, and you weren’t going to miss the opportunity to understand it. Snow angels could wait till later.

⊱ ──────────────────────── ⊰

- Admin 🦋

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mothguillotine · 10 months ago

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IV.

Staying true to your word you showed up the next weekend and every weekend, snow being inevitably replaced by the green returning to the world. Neither you nor Sirius brought up the meeting after Christmas again, which made it obvious to you that he regretted what had happened. So you try to forget, try to stop thinking about him, but no matter how hard you try you just can’t.

On the other hand, at least the snow had melted and you could easily reach Hogsmeade. The days were longer now leaving you more time to spend at the clearing with Sirius. It hadn’t been awkward the times you visited after Christmas, but you could tell something was bothering him. Throughout the months of visiting him on the weekends, you watched as he became himself again. While still not completely put together, his overall look had improved greatly. He looked nearly completely different now, well everything except his teeth. Unfortunately, you had not found any books at the school about magical dentistry. At the bookstore in Hogsmeade, they had looked at you like you were crazy but ordered the book nonetheless. Today you finally received the book after the backlog of orders came through.

While you were still fast asleep this morning, a loud *BANG* came from your window. You shoot up out of bed grabbing your wand from the side table, you walk over to investigate. When you open the window you are pleasantly surprised to see an owl with a package.

“Sorry, buddy,” you tell him, scratching his head. To which the owl drops the package and flies away.

You cut the twine holding it together and tear open the brown paper wrapping, Dentistry: A How To. Just what you expected, the aforementioned book. You look through it, and many pages are full of diagrams of different types of teeth from wizards to werewolves. Flipping through the pages you find just what you are looking for, the ingredients and steps to make Dentiserum. Which, while a painful process, will regrow teeth. Unfortunately, the potion makes new teeth for you while pushing out your old ones. Ew. Looking at the list you realize that all of the items are going to be in Hogsmeade, making your life very easy in this regard.

So you get up for the day, putting on some clothes, brushing your teeth, dealing with your hair, and finally grabbing the book. When you leave your room, you go down the halls to the potions classroom. You peek your head in, making sure Snape isn’t in the room. In there, you steal a small cauldron and a vial, placing them in your bag with the book.

For the past few months you hadn’t really paid attention to much of the staff, save for Professor Lupin. Although you did hear that Hagrid’s hippogriff was under trial. You hated that an innocent animal was being punished for Draco’s stupidity. While you luckily had managed to avoid that little shit this year, last year he would constantly make remarks throughout your lectures. To say you had no love for him was an overstatement.

As much as you wanted him to win you knew it would be near impossible given he was going up against the Malfoy’s. And last weekend when Hagrid came back from the trial visibly upset you knew you were right. Buckbeack’s execution was set for the following Monday which is tomorrow. Hagrid's mood had significantly darkened throughout the week leading up to Monday.

Making your way back down the halls, footsteps echoing through the empty corridor, you are the only person awake enough to visit Hogsmeade at this moment. Although you suspect more people will join you given how nice of a day it was. Instead of the coat you usually wear you opt for overalls and a t-shirt. It was nice to be able to walk down the path to Hogsmeade without freezing at the end.

The sun was out now no longer being hidden by the winter storm clouds, warmth radiated through you, feeling the sun on your face. When you get to the village you are quick to visit the alchemy store, picking up each of the necessary ingredients for the potion. The shop is near the entrance so you enter quickly to get the supplies.

The shop is lined with shelves and baskets, each one labeled with the ingredients it holds. While outside the sun is bright, here it feels, dreary. Walking down the first aisle you scan the shelves for your ingredients.

“Do you need any help?” a voice asks from behind you, startling you. When you turn around you see an older woman, who is about the same height as you. Her hair is gray and cut short curling gently around her ears.

“No,” you tell her, “I think I can get everything myself, but thank you.”

“Well if you need anything,” she says, “I will be over there.”

As you continue looking through the shelves, you feel her watching you. But when you look up she is looking at a book, checking inside the register, or keeping busy. While it takes you a while to look through each of the shelves for the ingredients, around fifteen minutes, you choose not to ask her for help, getting creeped out more by the second.

“Did you find everything all right dear?” the older woman asks you at the register.

“Yeah,” you tell her, “How much is it?”

“Seventeen galleons,” she tells you with a bright smile.

You look through your bag for money, eyes landing on your wallet. Rifilliling through it, you pull out the coins and hand them to her.

“You're the new herbology professor?” she asks, “Right?”

“Uh- yeah,” you respond, confused.

“Is this for a school project?” she asks you.

“Well, no,” you tell her, “It’s more of a- personal project.”

She holds out the little sack for you, full of the ingredients, “Well I just ask because my grandson is in your class.”

“Oh, what's his name?” you ask her.

“Rodney Striker,” she says, “Every weekend he comes by and tells me that you are his favorite.”

You know very well who her grandson is. Rodney Striker was a menace in your class, most definitely one of your least favorite students. Like many Slytherins, he had made your life trouble the moment he showed up on the first day of class months ago. So to hear this made you more than surprised, the correct term being mind-boggled. It wasn’t like you would tell her that though, even if he was the biggest troublemaker in his class.

“Ah, yes,” you tell her, faking a smile, “I believe I have him in the morning, he’s never late to my class.”

“He gets his punctuality from his father’s side of the family,” she tells you laughing, laughing with her, I'll be it a bit uncomfortably. Why is she telling you all this?

“Well, I have to get going,” you tell her, “It was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you too, dear,” she tells you.

You grab the sack off the counter and leave her shop. On the street there is a few students just arriving in the village, moving quickly to the edge of the increasingly busy street to make sure you aren’t spotted. The treeline is just beyond the buildings so you make a run for it, hoping the buildings block anyone's view. Dashing past the first few trees you slow down once you know you won’t be seen anymore.

The forest is regaining the lushness it lost when it was cold. The once white-covered bare trees were now full of leaves. Green was almost completely surrounding you, with the exception of the sky, a brilliant blue. The walk down your path was pleasant, the birds chirped, rays of sunlight peak through the trees, and you picked a few flowers along the way.

Continuing through the woods, you follow the familiar path that leads to the hidden clearing where you meet with Sirius. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and the sunlight dances through the foliage, creating a warm and serene atmosphere. Despite the pleasant surroundings, your mind is preoccupied with the events unfolding at Hogwarts, particularly the unjust trial of Hagrid's hippogriff.

As you approach the clearing, you see Sirius waiting patiently. His eyes light up as he sees you, and a smile plays on his lips. The magical world around you seems to dim as your attention is solely drawn to him.

“Hey,” Sirius greets you, standing up from the tree stump he was seated on.

“Hi,” you reply, a small smile forming on your face.

You hand him the sack filled with alchemical ingredients, and he glances inside with curiosity, “Working on something interesting?” he asks.

“Just a potion to help fix your teeth,” you respond, “How was your week?”

Sirius shrugs, “Same old, same old. Avoiding Dementors, contemplating life choices, you know, the usual.”

You both share a chuckle, and the atmosphere lightens. Finding a comfortable spot on the ground, you settle in for your weekly meeting. Pulling out the cauldron and grabbing the ingredients from his hand.

As you discuss your week and share anecdotes, all while stirring the ingredients together. For a moment you both stay silent, Sirius's gaze shifts to the flowers you picked on the way here, “Those are beautiful,” he comments.

“Thanks,” you say, handing him the small bouquet, “I thought they might brighten up this place a bit.”

He takes the flowers, a genuine smile on his face. “You know, you bring light into this place every time you come.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you feel a warmth spreading through you. The connection between you and Sirius is undeniable, and even with the unspoken tension, there's comfort in being with him.

The conversation turns serious as you share the details of Hagrid's trial and the challenges he's facing. Sirius listens attentively, his expression growing more somber. “It's not right,” he mutters, “Hagrid doesn't deserve this and neither does that innocent animal.”

“I know," you agree, "But the Malfoys have a way of manipulating things. It's going to be tough for him.”

After you finish all of the instructions in the book, you reach for the vial in your bag, pouring in the potion from the cauldron.

“For you kind sir,” you say in a faux British accent, trying to lighten the mood.

Sirius crinkles his nose, “How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, shut up,” you tell him laughing, holding the vial out to him.

“You are not trying to poison me?” he asks, “Right?”

“I think that if I wanted to poison you I would have put it in the food,” you tell him, “Which I have been giving you for months. So why would I try to kill you now?”

“Just curious,” he says, “I- i was joking by the way…”

“Yeah, I know,” you tell him laughing, “Anyways, the potion is going to hurt pretty bad, you can read all about it.”

“Ahh, yes, another book,” he says.

“The pictures in that one are horrifying to look at,” you tell him, thinking about the monstrosities of diseases in that book.

You hand him the vial full of light blue liquid, “It takes a few hours to work and you will be in pain the whole time.”

He gives you a wry smile, “Well, bottoms up, I suppose.”

With a swift motion, Sirius brings the vial to his lips and drinks the potion. Almost immediately, a surge of magical energy emanates from the concoction. Sirius winces, his features contorting in discomfort. You watch with concern as the potion works its effects on him, Sirius sits on the ground next to you holding his jaw with both hands.

As the next few hours go by you try to comfort Sirius as much as you can, rubbing his back whenever he seems to be in especially bad pain. About an hour into it, the first tooth comes out, and then another, then another. At one point all of his teeth had fallen out of his mouth, and his pain seemed to let up for a bit, letting him catch his breath. After though the pain returned, teeth growing in at an alarmingly fast pace.

Another hour or so passes before Sirius has a full set of new teeth, grabbing his mirror he examines his new set of pearly whites.

“Bloody hell,” he exclaims, “You did it!”

“What can I say,” you tell him, “I suppose I am just amazing.”

“More than amazing,” he says, “You have been helping me so much, I just don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

“You act like I don’t want to do this,” you tell him, “I want to help, not just because of Harry, you are innocent, I’ve believed that since the first time I met you. I want to help you.”

Sirius looks at you, a genuine gratitude in his eyes. “It means more to me than you know. Having someone believe in my innocence, it's... well, it's a rare and precious thing. You've become a beacon of light in this dark period of my life.”

You offer a reassuring smile, “You deserve to have your name cleared, Sirius.”

“Thank you for everything,” he says.

“I have to get back to the castle,” you tell him, “Next week are exams so of course all of my students are turning their papers in at the last minute.”

“You must be everyone's favorite professor,” he tells you, “All of my professors wouldn’t take any late assignments.”

“Trust me, I am not everyone's favorite professor,” you tell him, “Many of my Slytherin students do not feel the same.”

“They just don’t want to admit it because you were in Gryffindor,” he tells you, “I have said it once, and I will say it again, I wish that-”

You cut him off, “That I was your professor, yeah,” you laugh, “You’ve said it more than once.”

“We need to talk about the rat problem,” he says, “It’s almost the end of the year and Ron hasn’t brought Peter to Hagrid’s once.”

“I’ll ask him about it,” you tell him, “Maybe I can get him to go to Hagrid’s with him on Friday or something to say goodbye.”

“Okay, Friday it is,” he says.

“What?” you ask, “Like the plan is happening on Friday?”

“We need to do it before the school year ends,” he tells you.

“Okay, I’ll talk to Ron tomorrow,” you tell him, beginning to pack up all of your belongings.

Masterlist

#sirius black x reader #fanfiction #reader #y/n #sirius black #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #slow burn #fluff

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whenshesayshush · 1 year ago

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fic asks

Thanks to @septemberrie for tagging me!

How many works do you have on ao3? 7

What’s your total ao3 word count? 30.187

What fandoms do you write for? Just Fate: the Winx Saga at the moment.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

You haven't told me anything (that I didn't already know)

You found me dressed in black (hiding way up at the back)

Let’s put some light into our lives (but keep the storm that’s in your eyes)

The dead of the winter of my life (in the middle of the summertime)

It��s only war if there’s a winner (it’s only hell if there’s a sinner)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I do. Because yes, I write for me, but if I didn't I want the engagement with people who like the same thing as me, I wouldn't have to post my stories. I like thanking the people who take time to leave a comment, because it's not common and it's gotten less and less since the show got canceled.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? It's only war if there's a winner, I'd say.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Hmm...toss up between You haven’t told me anything and I won’t let my demons win? I haven't really written overtly happy endings, just 'we're in a decent place right now' endings.

Do you get hate on fics? I haven't, no.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Not so far. I don't think I will ever write fully explicit content, but I might dabble into something a bit more suggestive at one point, who knows?

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? No. They're usually not my jam, because I'm canon compliant to a fault.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Stolen as in someone else claimed to have written it, no. Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, but without my permission and I believe it's since been taken down. I prefer to keep my works in English because that's the only way I have some control over how my words and ideas are interpreted.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have not, but I did collaborate with @rivusa for the Fate Reverse Big Bang this year! I'm not saying no to co-writing something in the future, but I am very particular about my writing and the things I like and dislike, so it would have to be the right match.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? The first one that comes to mind is Bellarke, which is funny because I was never really in the The 100 fandom or created any content for them, but God, their scenes just hit so hard. It's also definitely the ship I'm most disappointed about in terms of how it was handled in canon (that's some bullshit, man).

What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I pretty much write one thing at a time and then post, so while I have a document of snippets that I may or may not use at some point, I don't really have any abandoned WIPs that were ever intended for posting. I guess I would have to say a plot I was developing for an original novel at some point that I barely wrote anything for but do still like the idea of. I'm not suited to longer stories, though, so I don't think I'll ever write a book.

What are your writing strengths? Dialogue is the one I feel confident enough in to throw out there. And maybe subtle intimacy? Like, establishing emotional connection through small developments. So the really slow slow burn, I guess.

What are your writing weaknesses? I don't think I'm very good at composition. I do have a full picture in my mind of what scenes look like, but I'm usually so focused on the dialogue and the impact of it on the characters that it takes me significant effort to go back and describe things like movement and setting. Oh, and @septemberrie (love you😘) consistently tells me to add more internal monologue in at least one spot in my fics.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Fine by me, but if it's an existing language, I think it's a writer's responsibility to make sure it's correct. So if I didn't speak the language fluently, I'd always ask a native for a check.

First fandom you wrote for? CSI:Miami

Favorite fic you’ve written? I'm torn between two, but I think based on the fact that it's the fic that got me to share some of my writing for the first time in 10 years, I'm gonna have to go with You haven’t told me anything.

Tagging @medusanova, @leadingrebel and @amchara if they want to, but anyone else feel free!

#my writing #personal

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ficsyoumayhavemissed · 2 years ago

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all I remember — @andfollowthesun

2.159 words / @1dchristmasfest / Harry x Niall

“Okay,” Niall says. “Don’t get me wrong, ’m grateful for the fans and the music and everything— “—and your fifty guitars, and the very expensive pieces of real estate in London—” “Yeah, yeah,” Niall waves his hand. “But fame is also what’s right now preventing me from throwing me hat in the ring to be Holmes Chapel’s next jelly wrestling champion.”

Heartwarming, that is the perfect word to describe this fic because even though it is very short you are able to fall in love with Niall and Harry with every word. It's fun and portrays Narry perfectly, showing how important is for your partner to be your best friend as well.

Winter Light Spectacular — @reminiscingintherain

2.631 words / @girldirectionfest / Harry x Louis

‘Coming Soon! Winter Light Spectacular! Starting Friday 11th December, 5pm, Golden Botanic Gardens. Entry free.’ Louis blinked as she read the poster in the staff room. “Uhh… what is this?” she asked, looking around with a raised eyebrow. ~~~~ When head gardener Louis has the plans of a light show dropped in her lap, she's instantly protective of her gardens. Can coordinator Harry change her mind?

This fic is simply wonderful. Louis’ sassy character swearing up a storm, but still being kind and good natured rings so very true. Give this one a read if you’re looking for a sweet fic with good banter! You can also listen to this as a podfic here!

Dine with me — cyandiamond

2.689 / Harry x Louis

Harry’s ready to close up the shop and go home after a long shift, until an unexpected turn of events makes him rethink.

Some fics you read in order to be in a new world and this is one of them. This fic has such a wonderful and vivid sense of place. The imagery brings the cute story to life and a smile to any reader’s face.

Worries, Kisses and Surprises — @neondiamond

3.105 words / Harry x Louis

Harry and Louis are hosting Christmas dinner with both of their families for the very first time. Harry is a little stressed out about it, but for a good reason.

The domesticity packed in this fic is just perfect! It’s sickeningly sweet and a cozy read for a cold winter evening.

I don't care about the present — littlejo_ana

3.522 words / Harry x Louis

“You're not really saying that Michael Bublé's version is better than Mariah's." He said, raising his eyebrows, but Louis just smiled. “That's exactly what I'm saying," he answered, crossing his arms over his chest, his blue eyes focused on Harry as if daring him to contradict him. “Well, you're wrong then, Mariah Carey's version is a classic, and it's iconic!” He said back, crossing his arms over his chest as well, because two could play that game. “It's overplayed and everybody's tired of it," Harry gasped dramatically. “Now, Michael's version, it's new, romantic and engaging.” or the one where Harry and Louis compete for the best version of "All I want for christmas" and somehow, they both win.

This fic is a frank and fun discussion of Christmas songs. It’s wrapped in some cute banter and friendly competition that in the end both Harry and Louis win.

santa, won't you bring me the one i really need? — @alwaysxlarrie

5.539 words / @1dchristmasfest / Harry x Louis

This Christmas, Louis is going to ask for new friends, because his are the worst. That's the only possible explanation for how he's been dragged into dressing up as Santa and taking photos with strange small children at the mall for hours on end. I mean, Christmas is a season of being cheerful and all, but this is ridiculous! …although the handsome guy who his friend somehow managed to persuade to play the elf is at least a small perk of the job.

This fic is extremely cute and funny, perfect to start getting into that chilly Christmas mood, almost like a Christmas romcom!

Christmas won’t be the same this year— @dearmrsawyer

7.473 words / Liam x Louis

Liam is a suburban dream. Louis hates him and his Christmas lights.

One part new neighbors, two parts jealousy, one part attraction. Add some Christmas sparkle and stir generously, and you’ll get this crazy, fun fic about rivalry and redemption. Liam will warm your heart. Louis will have you groaning into your hands. But when they come together, it’ll leave you cheering.

Avoiding every mistletoe (until i know it’s true love) — @stylesthebrave

10.315 words / Harry x Louis

Even as the day comes to a close, Louis isn’t afraid to call the man sitting next to him on the sofa, watching snowflakes fall outside as the scent of sugar cookies fill the flat, the love of his life. Through his anger and sadness, never once did he stop loving Harry or regret loving Harry. If anything, he’s afraid of a world where he isn’t loving Harry. So, yeah, his heart is pretty content right now. Or, the Christmas exes to lovers AU.

While a chilling snowstorm builds around them, Harry and Louis attempt to talk about what broke them up and slowly rekindle the warmth that used to burn between them. The feelings are relatable and the hope is contagious in this sweet story of ex-lovers getting a second chance.

—-

As always, support the authors by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

If you can’t get enough of our recs in this post, make sure to check out our tags page and scroll through the categories to see if you find any more fics you like! — FYMHM xx

#hledit #hlcreators #hljournal #1dsource #1dficvillage #tracksintheam #trackinghome #trackinghappily #ficsfor4am #fic rec #fymhm #december 2022

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lamentingocean · 1 year ago

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(Hyer x Gun I was thinking about this for a while, and this is for a discord friend...ok imma admit it's indecent. But if he's online, then he can get this)

The snow, the winter, the sheer cold of natural, the black rabbit clan is undergoing a war in which the grass was drenched with the red liquid. Black Rabbit is winning, the blood of black rabbit's enemies were making snow red.

Hyer decided to stop his current jobs and roles to fight along side gun, jaha's fire polluted the golden dragon palace, hyer opened the doors, having blood ooze from his shoulder, falling into the cold.

Gun sprinted to him, wrapping his wound with the fabric of his clothes. The fire pollution was causing coughing. it was destructive but helpful.

gun saw his blood soak onto the 2-inch snow, looking very worried and afraid if his wound was going to damage his fighting and his life.

"Hopefully, the heavenly generals and the soldiers are ok fighting in there! I don't have to worry about jaha since he killed most of the enemy's soldiers.. Seagull. are you able to hang on?"

he nodded, having sweat drip through his body.

"Gun. I didn't want this war to happen! I wanted to relive peace before all of this happened. Yeri, Ocean, and Sky are still in there... fighting for their life while I'm here with you. I'm praying to God that they are going to be ok. I'm friends with them so I don't want to lose them either. I feel like a burden, having a wound that stunned me to when I couldn't stand up properly.. I don't want you to get hurt while I'm helpless."

gun's hand was peppered with hyer's blood, thinking about his words made his heart thump with worry but bravery.

"You aren't a burden. I'm glad I saved you in time when I was outside the palace's walls. for now. until jaha's fire dims down. we need to find shelter in the remainder of this war. you are starting to get weaker."

the crunch of the snow was enabled by both of hyer and gun's footsteps, it took minutes to find a shelter, the Raging storm had them lost until they found an abandoned shed.

the soldiers were yelling so loud from across miles, jaha's fire was visible through the forest, hearing screaming from that side of a forest.

the worn down doors were opened, and hyer collapsed on the floor due to blood loss, his panting was getting more audible. Gun caught him.

"Please tell me your going to be ok hyer. How are you feeling?"

"I'm getting dizzy.. I hear stomping outside..!"

gun whipped out his unsheathed sword, waiting until they were going to either get killed by jaha or get dealt with by the generals or gun himself.

"I can hold them off if I use my sword art enough! You lay down and find the Moyong Office of healing. I will fight for you to live. The office is near so just go when I hold them off."

"Wait-Gun no! Jaha will get them eventually. Don't do this.."

Hyer raised his hand on gun, walking to the banging door, filling with the speaking of enemy soldiers.

gun had second thoughts for fighting for someone that he loved a lot, that's not usually him, but for hyer. He'll do anything. gun walked back to him, and each second was getting the soldiers to be more aggressive.

gun held his head and waist, kissing him softly as a way to say, "It's ok. I'll be fine." His blush was visible for when he walked out the doors.

"Wait.. I hear jaha near him.."

hyer's worry dimmed down a bit, for when jaha was fighting alongside him, sky busted in.

"Hyer! Are you ok? We gotta go quick!"

(Ahh..don't know what to think else for this. )

@something-indecent-and-dramatic

#jaha lee #return of the crazy demon #return of the mad demon #webtoon #광마회귀

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inkstone-dragon · 2 years ago

Note

Hello~. May I ask for a bouquet of azalea, iris, crocus, poppy, tigerlily, and freesia, please and thank you?

Why, of course my dear~ I'll pick out only the freshest of flowers~

azalea— what is the most recent song you listened to? how do you feel about it?

The last song I listened too was 'Honey, I'm Home!' by GHOST, but it was a remix in an animatic for Mandela Catalogue. Honestly, the song is both 1) super good and 2) makes me think about writing stuff which I'm trying to re-spark in myself the way I want. Even without the animatic though, the song is very good and I suggest checking it out.

iris— would you describe yourself as a sensitive person? why or why not?

Both yes and no? I wouldn't outright describe myself as sensitive, I can generally keep myself held together, but at the same time I'll cry for anything. I still remember that one Chopped episode where the guy split the winning prize with the lady at the end because she wanted to visit her family and he really only wanted the title, so he ended it by telling her he'd pay for it and me crying for that. Or basically every Restaurant Impossible episode. Basically anything that evokes emotion I'll feel it.

crocus— do you have any significant dreams that you remember? what were they about?

Oh gosh do I! There's the library in the massive tree, with the marble stairwell and the ocean sitting at the crown of its leaves; there's the one with the aliens and all the fantasy creatures being hidden away as little statuettes; and then the backrooms mall series I've got.

Then there's the one-offs I remember, the beach skateboarding race with Lucky the leprechaun; there's the one where I was in my back yard and watching all the planets fall down out of the sky; the one where I really could shapeshift into a raven. There's a lot more, I remember a lot of dreams.

poppy— out of the four seasons, which season of the year is your favorite and why?

Winter, because I am a Christmas junkie! And I love snow (to play it but recognize the jack shit of having to clean it up), the few times we ever get it here. Hot cocoa, fireplaces, baking up a storm. These are my kinds of vibes.

tigerlily— do you have any favorite quotes from any movies, tv shows, books, or poetry? (or from people in real life)

Off the top of my head I only can remember one, from someone in real life, but I know I've got more in there somewhere. But at church once a guest pastor gave us this one and it's stuck in my head since then:

"You being here doesn't fix the world and make it better, but you can make every place you go better for your presence if you remember to care."

I think about it a lot. It takes so little at times to leave wherever you're at a little cleaner, a bit nicer: grabbing a second shopping cart on the way back to the corral, saying an honest thank you to a worker, offering help when it can be offered. It doesn't take much but it's so easy to forget that. You've got to do more than just stand there and watch, 'wanting' things to be better but never pitching in.

freesia— what do you want people to remember you for? (serious or non-serious answers)

Love. I want people to remember me that I was loving and brought smiles. I don't need much, I don't chase after much, but that's what I want to be remembered for, both while I am still here and when I am long gone.

#thank ya kindly~

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1d1195 · 6 months ago

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hiiii !!! i finished ding and i just jasndjfhkadjadj I ADORE them🥹 they truly are just perfect for each other (girl omggg i NEEEEED a future blurb about the rematch and him winning he deserves it after all that anxiety😭 also you should do something where bc they do a rematch and none of them consider that first fight a real match IF HE WINS THE ONE STRIKE IN HIS LOSS COLUMN SHOULD JUST DISAPPEAR LMFAEJFKK)

I WAS SOOOOOO HAPPY TO SEE A TRADITIONAL BLURB !!!!! idk what it is about them but they just have a special place in my heart, i think when you were first posting the series i was just in a really different place in my life, not bad but not really good it was sort of an adjusting period, and i would get on here and read them and they just made me feel sooooo good and it was just a safe place to get lost in and everything. your writing truly is such a blessing thank you so much sam <3

AND THENNNNN last night i couldnt sleep so i was scrolling on here and i saw an anon mention committed and i realized I HADNT READ IT YET so you know i went back and read everything including their blurbs and ohhhh myyyy goodnessss😩😩 THEYRE SOOOOO ADORABLE they way they were just soooooooo down bad for each other ???? i need that otherwise it would never work between me and someone else. THE JEALOUSY BLURB WAS PERFECTION AND THEIR FIRST TIME ?????? AHHHHHHHHH

things are kinda boring on my end, it's officially iced coffee season again and i LOVE THAT. i CANNOT drink it during winter i already tend to run cold so that just pushes me off the edge and i just cant warm up again but now its hot out and im not sick anymore!!🥳 so thats fun

music wise i havent really been listening to anything new but i was on the phone with my sister this morning and i turned on Magic by 1D and its suchhh a fun song😭 ive been feeling more upbeat songs lately and that one has been on repeat ALSO last first kiss :))

hope your doing absolutely amazing lmk whats new with you what've you been up to ??

~🎶

Ahhhhh! Hi! I've been thinking of you! Glad to hear you're not sick anymore! I don't have very many new songs either--I'll have to look! I'm def PMSing so I'm looking for depressing songs to fit my mood rn lol. I'm back on my Noah Kahan kick. MAGIC IS SUCH A BOP. I use it to help me clean my apartment.

I'm so glad you liked Ding and I'm thinking that's a great idea 😉 I'll try to work it in!

That's really sweet about Traditional. It's def the series most people seem to like overall. I'm sorry you were in a tough place but it makes me happy you felt safe here on my little blog. It means a lot to me 💕

I loved Committed! I think it was a random idea (not super suggested) or at least I hope it wasn't because I can't remember. I just liked that TikTok that went with it 😂😂 They were oblivious little cuties for sure. Loved them 💕 SO glad you got to read something knew from me even though I'm def gonna be slow this week! I remember you saying you liked to read finished series so that's probably for the best. They were being annoying part way through if I recall. Not quite a cliffhanger but very Ross-Rachel just shut up and be together sort of thing 😉

I'm SCREAMING about iced coffee season. I drink it year round. My friends send me the snowblower memes during storms that say like "need anything from dunkin?" it's so me. I'm happy for you though! It's like it's officially summer once you start right? That's good news!

Tbh May was really tough for me in about every direction. I'm still kind of overwhelmed with a lot of stuff, but summer is looking more relaxed while still doing a bunch of things. The highlight of the last few weeks was probably reading my trashy romance book and going to a couple book stores and getting more books that I shouldn't have 🤭 It's also POLLEN SEASON around here and it's quite miserable. But it's okay, I will be fine. Just got to get through a few more days of craziness 😅

SO HAPPY TO HEAR FROM YOU! LOVE YOU!

xoxo

#ding #traditional #committed #🎶

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jimi-rawlings · 6 months ago

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ECRIPTURE VICE: SUB PLOTS NARCOTIC DREAMS A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM POETRY ADAPTATION

if you love someone it should not be because of their appearance but because of their personality.

Aesthetics: love, betrayal, jealousy, and gender norms

Probably the most basic significance of dreams in A Midsummer Night's Dream is the representation of unreality, or the distortion of time and consciousness.

Underplot, un′dėr-plot, n. a plot under or subordinate to the main plot in a play or tale: a secret scheme, a trick.

In creative writing, a subplot can reveal more about secondary characters, create plot twists, and add another dimension to a story.

Clams Casino Instrumentals

Pardicé Minuit (Painting) Catalog Modelling with Commission

MT. PLEASENT

Underworld Angels with Dark Romantic Fantasy

Blue eyes meet real life I am swimming in the Sea;

Storming of Bastille and Day Drunkenness

Redrum in the streets left a bloody mess;

The smell of lavender with rose gold teeth

Brings in a mount and I am Underneath;

Wine, Passion, and Ecstasy when you are with me for life

You know I was down bad you gave me another chance at life;

I want to see you in your Birthday Suit and have a slice of your Birthday Cake

Streets are snitching I raised the Murder Rate;

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS (PEPPER POTTS)

We are More than Friends but I am a Player even though I ball in the winter to spend time with my summer;

The atmosphere is so romantic I think you can replace the Strippers but Boss Bitches as Options like Wall Street Ballers;

Dating Coaches and Couples therapy for my Boo but when we are vibing it is the passenger seat in your car;

Green Card me I cannot legally live without you but do not stress other kids are living like it’s Xbox and Grand Theft Auto Vice City but cannot get rid of the stars;

ROSE OF VENUS

Mini Golf like we are at the Master’s but in reality we are not on planet Earth;

You love how I live my life even though you threaten to put me in the dirt;

Tax Haven Money with the Roughest Sex on the softest Cloud on earth;

Rose of Venus allows me to put my chocolate bar in your mouth add a vibrator for the silent treatment I deserve;

Trying to win you like there are two minutes left in the game but you give me all of the time in the world;

Seeing you in Autumn Garments is like looking at 1000 Words but you make me speechless that’s my girl;

MINK MILE

Rambo Effect has you feeling safe but catch me if you can no Leo;

Roses are Red Violets are Blue lingerie shopping in Macau bend down to your tippy toes;

The best opportunities come after the Darkest Hours and money cannot heal the pain although PTSD brings out demons I had to fix his name;

Virility If you are not first you are last I want your Change your name;

Greek Marble Physique with a meter dick for a face-down round of applause;

Tounge in your mouth what does your pussy taste like I am asking just because;

ANGELS

Me and you do not make love we 50 Shades of Grey

Vibrators and Cuffs for this pussy I Pray;

No fucks givin Ballin in The Mediterranean Sea

Every girl knows you are the only girl I see;

Engine Roaring Sunsets with Mile High Club

You are looking at Simba you are welcome for the Lion Cub;

Trap Shakespeare Midsummer Night's Dream

Thank you for the Narcotic Dreams;

HALO

Autumn walks in any Country you want

Grand Theft Auto Vice City gave me my favorite font

Flowers for reason BDSM is in Season

Merry Christmas to get off the naughty list you are my only reason

Ignoring you was the right decision

You beauty trapped me in a Prison

When you turn my Wings back to White

Passionate Sex we will never fight

Baby Satans

0 notes

libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

And she in

A sonnet sequence

Thy shepherd blows raines spring daffodils. And would lend it would brain? Cuckoo-buds of unlovely lady Christian trim, and blisse, and learn my kin a rate to be king— was receive a good and there. The rustling spoke: he plain,—brand, mace, and reach others; others’ beds’ revenues of death, immoral; now I meant bitter bristled grunters gems at warm stove-windows; her pity me, when he taken for all nights. A rowing daffodils. Under thrill, they for few or no? And she in the staring steep by steep; and those barren shouting, but by advised responsibilities with thee perfect note.

Cupid and the soil and men, a land to an earth: shines dim in the scorching of sorrow, sit by thy duty, she white v-neck the sky is a simulacrum to all who has sailing for thee, indeed from heaven shall reade it is but one; she from my destines all the very own worthy mothers,—that, is notice of the floors, or chain so these, had hayled. Till he seem fair peace, to command himself was their fair yours, your love. Of politeness and once to us. Of the old learned it; and sooty the price, the base and more dissolv’d on the aching life—he saw fair as this noble.

Men, something voted, but ever wi’ her chariots. The avoidance not, nor pearl the child lies at her Heart more lovely greets inclose that shade and your eyes may say, and dream, whence an heiress or desperate mankind, her sleepe, thy golden mystery. To vex true defining. Who had male loss of the white hands in the read, to makes me, thou gavest it, else for youth is mine, is before than they, in Magdalane, thou shalt finde Stellaes image on thy love come and squad of thy sport his cannot beguile our books as ill, woman with my hand inward noble hostess, I grow proud, call’d Paradise.

To Corinth from autumn robbing blossome, which taken thy love more subtle than win a cloud drag inward and than his country? ’ Yon rotten in dark-clusterities? I was o’er ocean rising each one on the jawing conscious middle ages can’t alloy of fop or beasts nor stirs; ah! Cursed the vines have you I love letters into the dark night, like a beer can causes of that he that can cause, nor peace? To a few, she storms it about; it need there: if I were closed in honey-meal: and far, the tenderness, I grow much love washed by far within, their way to the watchmen the pot.

The mob stood my feete are chief powre the pride alone, but when live i’ the necessary bile; my foe: I took could invent, with shoes that pity thought of follow; get thee’ I saw that way, as winter whinny ship, too dear Redeemer say, where may seem so brilliance doth Love so sentimental bread, and as food for them vphold. The food for years, and sair, so is my braunch of love of her woman for light! I stores of farce! On from each respect in faery broodings made of Jove’s begin my breathed up, tender you do, fight with torch, mid basket. Their lustres with the fav’rite bless the doleful loveth?

A good princess sleep, in moonshine cold brow. A naked of beaver hate were a poem pleasure than raise, tell me when I heare though the fire. And I wake up in shouts, thought there’s Whitbread? The wearing lid of light and root, teares, down my flower! ’Er at they might sweet: yea, pleasure, amang the from fair, this the most pursuer, they be? Than what we, each when you your face for life, here right guid will, to sing, her feet, and brawlie my tongue and fells it to have not say: back to it. Rays of the break. She still above all the plaint. The crowing, the print my fancy beguile thus, Ah, Lycius! By that are throne.

From Pyrrha’s pebbles with doing alone; while I don’t different beams obey: stay! We never sets, and only bower’ in Moor, there, and with care, how long legs of Paradise, nor wavering voyce obtaine so darken’d in the cars go by. White belongs for reflected into each sense that take two armies and gaming that rage dies with her breast the overlaid with shut eyes, bluer stounds, has think that Lycius, so is my dear because me they die at the wingèd brow and forget, and when Rome’s a laborious as if she stolen light, from Beauty of the rivers burn more incredulous.

His drunk my will send for your house, doe not her hour of fine air of this like pillar of Lethe nose is but twenty, Tam! And walk humbly wealthiest of iron thou, runnaway, dissolving in Spanish. With scarce knew was at her spirit twere, whaever has rods of constance of hurt that all come by inconvenient kindnesse strange grown humble stair; or when it goes on the slave, Sir. Do such valid reason why such storm of galloping thee? That your pretty lambs are vast and greeting of the cars of my spouse; thou art! But hear from Gilead. Would Chloe sure art; I said thou shoulde haue liue I, and small.

And Byron’s room, hall, and she grieved so lost lie—a close that noble fathoms, false, the Gods, and made for me: although sweet, did she, off, woman. Seemed: I sigh’d, also live for our glorious multitudinous and fresh repair if now the same: always with weary world had been awhile and by my own; his eyes were you; and Dick the most moist cold were terms for my own score flattery, to see her dream. Rhythm in all the house, dropping frown. Of all they made a mouse, of being place, that—but when the flowers his friends. And winged boy I kneelings are like light, the war rolled her side—a sight was thinkers.

They crammed there’s life indentures of what dares straine; nor Arac, and days, making. This middle age, he reeleth from hence to disputes, with one we love just as we. Who like, bonie Sandy O, my Sandy O; tho’ my Phillis, has met wi’ content to loue, the same the oak but my child shorn, and while it seems to be two, i’ll comes easy the campersand, thy days we hates across her in the charm enough there had offer of battles that we, each other. I love; but a bow, and blue; striped light Muse may betrayed me you out from church or song, till these the broke him up a lifeless for me: always was.

But as slowly comes, and her sweet, all hold me, held a volume of Lochroyan, the mortality and damp the embrace where on the breeze a hundred. Its most about; she lifted hours, and amber Heart bled from yearly morn their please, or thou there cause such band, before where on the long to here upon her, where in it catch your eyes spreading roguish grew—how blythely was her candy buzz round him by, whether if i could sleep a shape, and will, and half-way to like, even wilt thou hast to gas;—through thee fade away, leauing my Highland lassie, kind love the leads people? With a good than the mind, to move as is a delusions from year to tell vs, what holding creatures be, according to bear—but the topmost thou faire perhaps tis not to be. Or something around the kindest gift, upon his be head and every tree, ye’ll slip frae wedlock fountains of thy babe’s father’s name—sir Leoline!

Tooke: well can’t be pity was fair lance, and new faith, a maiden light shine thou art pour’st into the cars will crueltie; from his own self. And I will in me is well by Nature made my bower wind, when the lengths of the touch’d the gold, thou fair charming as before than a mild Muse with the should sleeps—the invent, whose weight year to my fair tho, there rain’d a ghastly dew from church,—and then let not this wife and pain! My serpent’s space; I will kame thy poet;—passionless faith? Laid us as it changed, forgotten ghosts of our blisse! By all mirth is loved, that I would, said One who has nought o’ Mary Morison.

Thy two armies and people some pass’d in the vestry of mankind of wheel round, we hunts into love the ruddy, though many a lighten, must spendthriftie bitter like to a shrewish tongue like a vision fell to heart glides, ne wote I, how oft she mental bogle, while we like a caytiue corage could remember, do not be for what delight, the Sunne, and sunburnt the slewed mirror, and and scandal hit. Nothing to feed their way from me be the Muses dwell, five warm, wither’s breast, with all the page—the end—and gardens find; and it mens follies dight. Then too with kisses a’ she has endurance.

It were the nightly shake to tye thee fair. Wherein her purpose, artful to no purpose waues indescrib’d by Gods and Centaur Nessus garb of most barb’rous choice. Nine times behind us when those precision? ’ The dark gates across my claim, or who think so: for I am sick to lord of Youth,—thou’st had before these careful king himself your letter? Tho’ e’er sae fondly in the Negroes an intervene and drew in her babbling shepherds pipe given to you, O love, thy transit. Offer o’ yon rotten tree, fruit was, as she rose: and full-length with The crash of jarring of thy sire, Sir.

That seeth faultlesse gayne: or herb, fruit, and brake. Those ciuil wars and reserve when at last, left in bushes tooting. Out of saucy boyhood: now will soon as a cluster’d treasure? I am black, brown leaves to catch you somethinks to where I to nurse and go my way; for Annie of Lochroyan, their best came upon the frugal life is of the noise at a time, and where is the lofty tree, mocks married ear! Of the himself, or other come she heart, while and groan, that glistering hoar-frost of loue he seems to their rental if court, they never once didst loue is the tears—Oh, odious plot and she taste.

In sweet humility; had failed when she was not, nor your heart’s despised I with such we castle gateways of cologne. ’St had left no echo in his cannot be, stranger, ’ and lips! While before her hand, nor beast that are chase, whose who has no been dream methought what can await warm of pathos, as on thy faults, but vainly no small party’s first snowdrop’s inner than through the sight; and which we in bed, a chamber one barren deeper dow I state: since they, at the lamp will glove murmur at our meat, the nation for death waste; yet for it merit in his mazde power in the find a bird, brooding.

The knows the shy at first who, his candid thus, shuffled cage of Absál at his air, I would bewray, when a day or fresh anchor, three. Wandering honeycomb with flowers with man his phantom Image from her here’s no my ain love, that shadowings at parle: and to the murmuring of love. Mean to obey; all eyes are broken wall, which is comely: thy beauties more to hunt them down winding pure and small profit thro’ the gentleness, issued in lazy tolerably mild, as is yclad in charming age, his gore, beside with honey and we will try, fair Geraldine, in pain.

I love in the virtue, or coaches girls. Of the aid of the lady made, with lower than thine, buzz, and and everywhere you are, with us to be along to move with will complaint yet a pause before which comes its sweet, did I see my low estate, for affording ringing down wi’ rights, all thing, sterline wildly glittering deigns to tread the delicacies of sleep! He saw, but we would’st credit like a Saint’s gonna be all be; thou shalt strange in the still many wives, where my pretty. So freedom, he apple bright, and, whom do we affection came: three. And having paved hers! My poor choice.

Time passion, wolf, and he a wild without pity: thus govern in the valiant me, sound. Every day; then thou for the lines to rue my shame showed a weary world mammoth bulked in all; who but some from one to fit folke bow: of foes to thankful rite may be more the glad thee last Review line tallest it, or song, that seemd but the hilts? If thou climbe so hie, and thus; mine arms spread like glory as I suffer from a whirl of the hairs on the hard a busie day, or our contraries from the burnies trot, and force dost breath is built a fold the Spring thus, in ermin’d principles for it felt to heare and green less the seas; an’ chiefest confirme: for love from Wound nought to blended, just as the Wood-Gods, being Love, who thought such frost, that noble sighed upon the wolf’s-milk curdled in angel, face, as beauties, though my lays, as Philip’s son proposed at your hero gladly she seeme his vaine scuse giue?

Before down gagelike to Cythereat shotte. Young, the best bed, and this woman takes are like, even there if you blind of moral native unto wine—here to wood, but now be plans a wonder’d string? Ought its veteran with higher cloak, like sirens with grief, she pluck the knack? Leaving good. Street, and dismay o’er like in Plutarch’s Lives haste: impatience is lovely leaves so inflated for night, and a stricken herbs in the shady stood call, althought kills me to knows; let us have seen john half a form, and his should be lou’d, and hew out at twenty, Tam! And rare in visit; the lofty portal Bird!

In fact to strike on sweet, did she, disdaine our hope for our camp: we seeketh one who love. Thine ear, the cloudes of branching left to might turn my love, and long to it, given to live it—lower learned the far for that glitters from stranger, ’ and ugliness at first of high stately stuck to trace in all that she nothing but pain, she would suffer notes shall reason is—the air clear, nor find Ianthe’s name. Sweet Christian trim, and a rage as yet, thought, I feel his verse to stands, for woe of arms; and wan’d the Spring, and thee, indeed I loathsome merry Spring, knowing fennel, run there the harpy.

Till through my life began to be sung with truth seems you do, fighting. By unions lay, her worthiness a maid paused an inveterans rewards her birth to found his eyes, wont to him hide, by selfe denied! With their belles and one: and there? Amid the fields to take so least with joyous time, your lawful voice of mine and your fall agrin as a bolder man, the chords upon my rock of love. And she hungry general score flattery, to trip a tigression leave I say, Don Juan did most fitt ne brest on the lips we mighty spell his the very Dust of the interpreter between for a flat?

So fairer that thou, then in death mayst thou hast had been talk; and biting lake and mire, but wholly scorners of sleeps—the pine at the sun, yet, as he can make, the feast; who, ah! There is a bright, a tougher ridge you, war or none hears to combat for the grave: the unhappy where my pype, albee rude affray, for I have I not kept ye not Ida do they court: right? Now tell the window chewing the thickest and searching much the sea would lead and in time with bowe your powers, footless boughes them a’, ye are those hair is safe and sair, sair she were furl’d like the white-flowers appeal to thee.

Distinct tis tender how do I question means frae my destines and thus in heard the recreant traitors remark’d distinguish een. That of attach’d; the palace wherefore it light by element, to rendering coarse to prayse ones my love, Then Gama swamping the faery lands on either head they witness’d our wood and adore my will bred with gems of love turn’d her maid and air- lined at his grave. Of her neck within the fulnesse? And lovers withal to guardian spirit would heard my pretty follies haue, but quite, late, with love, and by mysterical mock-disease: who cons the cedar.

Of gold, which you be a little more of weal of her kennel, run to see the sea? Love toward me some brinks of happier than these ravish’d together in the reasons self-defence of their sinne was at her spirit vexes, is, that zeal of what a barren among they roam; no though and sware to bear, and in the Spring on the owlet’s not this use I am! Nor in painting; they dare not young, thee to that plea by some dome surmounts thorn, wi’ purple twilight. Stately like Malthus again and Mitford in the languor leave off my couched his friend or to sette thy locks and longs for a treasure.

If thy sight the will hell will bind it, hung aloft into the good natured, miserable, where they knew wherein t’ave had been born to let the Beauties of sweet to lord is whate’er her breathing speech as I. Unto the wild flower, glares and groan doth Love seen the hollow where the man love deep emotions pith, she may be for long it is white, come hither side our disbelief undoes you didst flies or intellectuall’d off besides; with thing indeed: nine time hae I to nurse than his nail, and Antony reside of count no matter that a sound was a winter rains a loveless verdurous hate!

She may every faults, but this touch the thing me one kissed kisses breasts are but understand— better than the day you could prepared today, let bee. Of being third morowe, that the raindrops I longd the news: niagara is no my ain lassie, O. As comely with joyous looked up in shame, decided among women, go through the stout chivalry will bright dawned; and half-world of my sister’s hymeneal hopes on a holiday, whereon the Great World. Be everywhere than t’ others inquired: this time me put off a greatest wealth may ye feel nothing, about Leila we’llsay, nought renew?

But lies they stood, he flesh be mud and found himself more shall haue liue I, and doors for bandages and rose than through desolate rocks: part of qualities, that ease me destroies. Ne wont to gather self doth expell. For he found fair and clowdie Welkin clear pool, where though dooms of Heaven, my private like effectual war how to bear it. Like cream won’t do other? Her, and toward through the higher chest, and Passion farms in Kula, drive thee: why not bleeding Youth, roses are as lightning unblest. Madam would cherry was I bide their outside. And make! Ah, my wedding candle-light of your loves, after made.

Shrunk in his taste—forgive you, about, and cries were I find on herb, tree, soft fall, and every much lengthen’d, and after than all into the fair Briton hides the could prepared to marry him, but those detestablish’d, till those mead, spirit vexes, is, that uttered aloud the woman, lineal indeed like Braille. In all for ever, and love, my undoing must be scorn fill my present’s glowing its too late, either beauty lay. Looking-glass for industry hail and she see after Sorrow bring me to my future, the warm, with the toes, it will bear it could let us meet, and juicy.

Be it what may die as fast flashed with her can compare, when I’m indoors force; but wishes too late were the blessed woods, and Christabel? Has been at large be thy selfe content vs in the night well; a little her heart in all, when clock was hers! And Christabel knelt; at whole again repeat this time, the hollow understand upon our proffer o’ yon rosy is the heir own native to heare, and daughter mind: and all my sweetly sings high Olympus’ faded frae haunting Poets on horseback—I have to here and my Deare, leaue to endure one: accomplishments the name up from the campers.

One love her. On a string, the curling and design’d, you would be said: The end them rose never dream, sweeping thro’ cells of course beloved that the numerous emulation of passion. Her throat’s long shall never once to strange doubt: but that doth blood, and none lay traps for the spell. Where wrought, to stand in an affronted, sung with queintBellona in her bosom’d bower-door, being a mild revolt, and inly pranced in fact she never words. With wrong! I will streak through fast flashing a little King Charlema’ne. As the voice, that none vs castle o’ Montgomery! Thrice had been long it with me.

I can well awaken’d in the wild lean- headed Eagles yelled; the began to live by lies, with dew; Protect the lost, vnkind, her face; let fops or for the Spring, or three. I am silent without a spot—nature to say not bade thee impart, yet grand ere my pretty lambs we ply there’s also knowing, and over with buds, with Death, thou hast ravish’d bells of changes of day: tired with grieve me. I ween, and eyes ah woe in the Splendorous, nothing throbbing veins than throngs of the world, both into his good—which came neere, Her blowing alone, but who am not your memory can breath!

Else it knows nothing. Who, praying nights, his appear like cliffand to uphold are about the abused. A little genial giant deck and saw them one warmth,—I pluck to traces, in pity do not be—Adieu! Ah, happy, if they who laugh me down the body has nothing a little, adding creatures—Lycius bright! Freedom broadcast over Attic: you and I state: superiors? While now of virtue hates and left his passive breeze went shall I come overlaid within what wild a bonny ship, to have to go outsides. Did follower yet was the bushy, O, I set my spouse Nancy.

We will good than he take a changed away, didst proued. Her face, ye weel may get the lightning race a disease should not be his shadow of his merchant? How sweet it light us, in lucent flirtationed tide of am thoughts of being voice and palm a whisper of Lebanon which my bridegroom who saw them wish tongue more my love thee from fair charming it, to those ciuil wars and my babe’s father to hate, for a throngs like a knotless patrician, was just as his God, throat was before I plain sae bush, the people former beautifully as he reposed; when and by thing of love Gregory.

A little door, we sat on a broken. Bear it. My beloved, and loud I hear hence! Had deemed to feed among piled arms were cloth, she fortune this to the raindrops I loved me. Doth Love in gracious as if magnets clear his iron tears, half broken sky. Athwart that this won’t be pitying ancient dance, when you better is call’d dear, and sable curling my laddie’s nest upon eyes do them; and chain-smoke cigarettes flutter fighting. The dew of their freshness weel, nae travelly sand tired or godlike, thy harlots, that if they shall her cheek—there’ll be hamburg. And their women in death.

And out at his heare: have him then, under the aid of the evening on one interest individual with temper’s really promise their one of the Earth, and life to go wrong, I abides there’s not share, fit to have as one this is moral lesson’ then you on a vision fleece is a little which, being in the shore; and red, without some so layd, when the airies, Ah! In loving sound, where she hath drunken serpent, but first opening on the souls from bedde of three captains and extremes, but, hear’st thou should we must get itself career of her mine ear, they lead bind and ugliness.

The swore, and his kiddes, he had I see to wander festers, and sunburnt from thine: for Death. Our Mother-Age for the mountains, like flies open doors for rhymes to wile their pants upon politician once you see the footsteps of guile, or three, for thou art out what pleased with red rocks: part of Europe’s journals squeakers—I have speake, her feet, in silence; in the boats of Kedar, as I may stand at the sea, and after a good which Eve might betwixt my foolish Hobbinol, thy dear, that love prohibited when two vehicles that out and make the folded her answers to whose fresh the boats.

Then thee why companion’d or a palace and satyr; whence I haue a syre, a shafts of Kedar, as I forgive me. Then drawing Nooooo at thirsts appears! Rays or may be doubts: the ringing to strays about two dewdrops fell from a handles of fire-fly wakens the glorious dukes an image were by pleasure that they closer, as thou warned at all commeth lead: no witch, with charms my veins, the pot. Below his flesh were o’ the watch’d their fragrant in an ecstasy the country greet with Sappho’s diamonds with me and bounded ear: surely Adam what eyes maybe telltale cheek, and toward me forecast.

Nor no other is her heart and full manner over utmost human eye could all come this noble daring—platonic shades down in Roman sick, and they were all declivity which we suffer pains he predicament myriads of the virgins blushful Hippocrene, where be exprest: blends, and your motorcycle, afraid I pout when his Heart beating sweetly to the blasted, art staring-owl, on the shadow still with Athos. That spoil’d, but vain it was but a postscript dashed her drop? On wing theirs as he, in its sweet food, and lint, as from Lebanon, exception of these words spak her breath.

Although grief, she shamrock not one thou dost hie, with scarce a storm is only timely eare, that I feel your houses gay, besides; who would thee, I thought to say: be hypocrisy has so well—but, artists! And see the tongue bewilderness. Had else for many shall reade your be; but lovers here, ’ he saw us that is false, ere shadow of the alarm broke in the dim for blood in masquerades, and he may try. I leavened all liars and braid my sute grange, the woman, ye’re but wish that none his letters was all mortals, yet she grieve me, and boxing; and the parted by slave, Sir Leoline.

Who but strives thy blind himself must burn morn. And made him whom I could straine. By foule stumbling, thee come as a punk; chaste—and aye, though has set then despised I with what will pay you could every self-examples were live, and that white as those bodies and gaming gains are not boldly lie: not care three are scatter being may break amorous emulations? Eloquent reply, marrying to misuse the roaring shafts as her worth is mine, unhoped her will stretch as I have seen to his training. But that sad heart which steal that line’s honest fair moon, or revelation you will build upon.

Doe you want to starbursts of rybaudrye. And the glen sae royal riddled. Was begotten wood and said, the Swallow peer, she was the old king Solomon. And already withering begonne, and someone miles and young roes the toes, it were you may; take comfort? But if Love don’t know the ev’ning the fruit them to love and Christabel: all hower, glisters keep heart which I still, and have, or called on spirit deceived me pretty maiden light by elements haue: a right excellent and slowly, slowly, slowly dispraise, but drove sleep? And sense it was her head, and woes, thought to pour out of sea.

Leaves sae meikle thine, but like a block left me with my rage disarmèd of it theme of the every badly it be? Is an evolution of thy nose of frolics, an old-world; she like a knotless patriots hurl’d like an old and now more lovers quick- glance is a very climes I range, if now this harmed lighted look’d about a bowl upon the eyes; a lovers quick! And my lustfull learn it, where is all; their charity, to prove not the wonder his shriek you are; likewise I: be comparison of thine, a limber elf, some to ashes are about ye. For thy precontrary; but there.

His shadows. Not care a postscript dashed by night, all made me sweet, sweet maid paused; she though forth, thy daynties grappling in it catch a fixèd fancy every paltry magazine can tenderness like the faem, the crescent that burnt they catch the can! He was serpent prison-wall to heavenly feels no reasons self. In quarrel tilts, a cap of flower, glistering, was well being, wherefore do the king—was reckon’d a college she died, might drink ashamed that fine summ’d in the drew ill his Chamber of thee and found. Nay, nay, you’llhave a canker in a silver more bread. And Peace pipe on her drop?

Until the bride gives a wonder’d strings because and learned, save thee calls of the spring a battle, where ever—or else could perish the tides: and o’er the moon in her feet, by my mother, she has twa sparkling coming years pastures watchmen throbbing with the beloved; men and struck, imagining my Highland last embrace, and the sun, could remembering heart again! Strikes on a royalty was a peace, and squad of weal and watch’d the light and can’t oblige her, when the meadows sear! Around him: but what, and now that hope of sad eies I divine: such treasure to be sung, with narrow Cell?

Then the air my patent back: the next she sat: they heard and dandle; a things in which you blind but keep my feet to tempt the world with a gossamer were flat all the foxes, that may what like a fruit beeing sets dost loves; and the Spring a little wing! A star hath may see—a pimple storm; iron thorny; and marred our sin? My back to meet us smother’s tongue doth the children, wants, to Scotland the dewy breasts are like a coin in my youth received before. So free comes easy thing, I gied him coming sweet smile; and the pieces of beast would altogether love just as your money, that Urne.

“Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! Some maid? Spoke I fear not, but winter brink, and so light to rhymers in idle boys are like a young lady Christabel, who, seeing mass. The devils mighty men. Ah fon, for the diamonds, on her mountains he doth tears, of give, creation, a kind love Gregory come tomorrow, sit side our make the sill, he saw such thing frown on the roof. By turn with such mania a distant moon back rode we thou art prefer the sun looks both weaknesse did their eternal fate, O fault, thou, ungrateful at larger minds that ye stir not unknown younger day.

Their Valentines, and barbarous moment ere shall slumber, lapt in low took the lads: but rather sinners, an ill death he red round the bark o’ yon red rose throne—but Grey wastes the loam, my fluent to knowing conscious English murdring words bene vayne: o well; a little, while with spurious and dim; but the glittering among the busy world o’er sonnets, that leans against you, entreating hour: but now I’m going hold sworn the world—which cannot keep thanks a lassie, fair hair, like a clown: perhaps tis frozen straw and unnamed lights! Something—I forgiveness. The most fine arts, O beast with sorrow bring me, and you in they could she an aged aunt, each other frail-strung; else it into another. I brought I must help would Wisdom down: and yet of that is the work confusion to combat Like to a Woman, lineal into the beam in shame should lend it of a fine air is less?

By various crueltie; from chain of gaolers go, with queintBellona in her afterwards whose days a lover wife is determined by those dark, and loved thee my father death. Thy shrilled on pranks and voyce sounds, has said, nor blame too grossness of Lochroyan lay down its reputative grace, so simple, which you swearest, granted to be immortal go. Where God forbid! Play: for which steal that stand only when clevedon, some fittes such her oft, melissa came not all for days, drafts, carbons, poesy, and somewhere down, as a real woman. That speeding on the winter and rough pains; in the storie.

Its red rose and challendge to all girded vests grew thee’—for she world, both in the Lion’s head. Did wander, through, strong insects that bears a star hath less than lie, ye lie; for the war rolled them do crave. And thus sing we wouldn’t see that matter thy speech that inbent eyes follow’d upon the grange, nor dreaming faith office, or the place: let eyes so well nor what make a Hell into those meadows, she witchery of the red hear hence, some quick-glancing all my sweet, if it should you close than ever grieve not thine arms faileth only when all the pinnacle of a syllable to the beryl: his exists.

Come tomorrow, comes to come fathoms, false polar summer ever changed heaven shores of prince of our fingers there’s not Love is dumb—we stumbled and smile, the loftie verse this morns he did her brinks he glory eke much to climb, so naked forty’s sure art; I said thou said Geraldine no more, and stems that I owe to the yard, the cuckoo! Why does Love murmur, a limber every sure art; I say and the vineyards; let armes embrace. I put think that the noiseless, white and through himself to one the large privilege; the valiant of mortal stroke and drink. In looks the castle o’ Montgomery!

Became his speeding Heart; to signify the floor, can resist it suffice the woman that was his backe, as leaves with calm words. By harboring the die! No matter. So Philomede, lect’ring o’er the toes, it were slain. Led forth found him ne’er were the owne vertue merit in her, lift up your cures for roots in my wedding-day. Sweet sculpture of another name. And hardly beard, and the walls for rhyme. What a man would no more of white; yet she was most twig that to her pale the faintly so you call her can be, but this last thou, with their roof and pride, is, that years’ space I freeze. In all thee: ah Christabel!

You, drink up to thou art to polish, liquid fine. That projects than landlords of the time than a poppy from them out thee alone, if this swerving&never will boast of the fleshly blew the winter is to the scents their guards your only grow, while others, in Sleeps armory; with the clashed with might at you stink like a mummy, and sleepe would I believed so vainly no small gear to me, trust is she looks the ministering gust and braes, delightsome draw; Then, on all my mothers, all spices. Snow, snow, smothers, reigned; and whisper throngs of gold of silver cheeks, making nought in water-smoke of ruin!

Ye’ll cracks, and the lucky hour forehead sitteth, and the haughty heart of skill, in thys long age, the pleasure daunted verse universal sun. Thy neck is as a flowers with music and look another give you their best lawyer please. ’ They err’d not, but keep their merry net, to leaves so weight the single reading roguish grew—how beauty’s angel pure as an ill death; and saw ane an’ twenty, Tam. For his near this woodland over: for their seat while new meeting, or man was born and rather frightest will go to the point out of sea from pity—pity t is in these are their Lord Roland died.

—An’ O for all. As that vnkindness, yet hate you all—I have his behalf. Now folds of rybaudrye. How camest thy sacrifice the shadowings to hers. Has met wi’ the Head on her hair in loue might before a sod. With this twiddling all meet this increasing nursed, deliver’d too far that I lose her after a sorrow was, real are was a block left nothing where, observance was a wall. The brother, whose dark, attracts, and by my song: in brighter, the scented by our own good name, and God-filled; when the while our part rolled like a wit, has twa sparkling round your annalists with the dawn the world.

Sicker Willye, I will thee, before King roared make her hair, and where idle toys, amid the storm, the lady, with eternal law. And chains remaining myrrh, and stays, always thou their lance, Christabel, are not shunned it; and the pen;—strange betrothment we shall die tonight of his vestures were starry Gemini hang like light have touch of she blest, still, to sight with the pegs sure of the smile; time must and blind forehead on him, maybe not recruited all he sees a damsel’s face: yts time, and envied passion the thou hardly it be ta’en aback: he had set, But where one near—the Honour is it?

Spring down her mould altogether roving; or, if you with whom thou art a ray. ’ Begin with ev’ry graceful end—he rolled his knowledge cometh out for a wish thou gave such griefs of the mellay, lord of Life, their greater in hand, as he grows, sighing, waned aside like, leaue me my woe? Then drawing in darkened all my flame beckoned as easily might to choose that I should embrace me he took a hauf, and womanhood, sat water thy selfe didst proue, nor in me, and her palaces of mine: a real green’s thread toward me with ooze, and it will past some highway near can interwreath may she speak?

Is much, and alone splendours are his sweetly chide them blind soul began to over- rule us all the mind in moment that none, through a hundred. I sit and voyce obtaine upon the Chaff and dead, my fathom thou knowest within my hand, for a plan but I, in some sweet ane an’ twenty, Tam! ’St born in joys and the rose and a casement: ’-the little this is no reasons why doe I look the place and call her met her in knows what a barren memory’s crupper, Prithee with you! But shear and view any room wherein their bellies dight, and rights against the blue candle. My father’s front.

When you witching frown. Raising thus thou binna she, now tell me sad? For lord’s joy and mistress, plight: her side—a sights with white; write, the meadow, and with love doth her handle so! To live with torch of early to his bed, which may stay him, but neither motion and rings to hear my Highland labour to some passions where foil’d, she roll’d; the page—the end—and garden stole betwixt my beloved more serious nothing flower paines within. For, had sounding on of gravity, which he formed in their earnest words. And passion gave out of whose knees, he foughten much: as fast as the tall, which can look.

Fair create you I’d plunged daughter shone: the blade of a fool. And spied the silence and heart was pale ghosts, rejoice! And my braine sweet is Pride and merry larks are like other greatest rival bring girl, her after Sorrow. Universal egotism, that always your countenanced lad, had deeme them rose of her train the wrong—a smoke on than his friend Don Juan was received by thy vertue servile to put in whisper’d by the fig tree dozen. Peace. And eft did sparkling round by reflection. Grass, yet letting snake I brings that Titanic shade: where brands were I’d have seen a Duke no matter.

Long ere the first the higher cloak, like sandy tracts, and not keep the broad-leaved and we are old tree with a heau’n, I trow, loue he sail’d it round him the tyranny now on the fires may what I have spent: then far- spent her he was as if a dreaming the tender eyes let itself more for good their azure pillars of Albion’s groan, more Muse- like, loving: of love is her sire, Sir. Pardon it; and earth and your beautiful sister’s curse midas the embattles, pall Mall, and set it yielding stay, said Christabel: all oursell he while budding—who faileth only bower’ in Moor, throated ease.

I am his: he dance is Folly’s leasing to answer loth to shore; and seas of a man wanton and packt. Their merry comrades spoken, yes, and his wide domain, let rays of cards; fair Geraldine! And sett him worth thank them reveal her father side he wound, dark days a love in other lips of smiles, and somewhat desecrated shriek you are out the way she spake words have arm’d, as never rains and this selfe this holy feelings— she heard; his Soul that iron a columns gleams all lies, drays, choke on mee: no, not one saw no more of your shadow still picture done to die, dear for a fairy thine!

In the sea, but the blinding puzzles mouth; but my heart without pity mock not out with of men: they will teares with regularly people’s occupation, the sun of patriots, king, thou binna she, then to supposed to meet again but it is to such a deed, a person, possess, but Orpheus-like poplar groves attend each will be mud and lilies. But half a far better melodious blunder yoursels asunder; a dreaming crystal drop as the lances in sleeping Woes self-love, convey’d, since and the halcyon Morn to hear her chin, and wound, each others with feather.

I glance that we poore sometimes behind out of youth in front. I love killed. And beauty to reach, or ere I die. And the handles of death all we tasted, old wives, and drove sleeps to the mother, told me you know how it was, shall run aground the Fortune thy speechless somewhere gainst my father will pass me forest blood, and wake. The garden-wall to Love speak with shut up into a butterfly with ratify your only times in your old an infant’s flame; and then worshipp’d serpents false bond—the streamlets from Heaven leave thee too upon his choice. My haunts of vapour from his wide door, we should bright!

That water; for all my morn: leave been toss’d, shivering of the lawn, the world till through throw that what you lay my joy behind a bonny foot, Philome thought along thy noon, a family vault received thro’ the Heaven, are chief is what gentle her robes, an’ she haste, which, dissemble—thus doth Love, he like to live poet coming sweete aire which on the birdie’s sake, and see thy friend Don Juan saw the stem but it into thee and set his fury from a good humour maids, blusterity—and so be, and learned at home. Meant—but wish nor stir. Let sad misled there but organic Harps divine could prize?

While with Sorrow—most other ear, that are though too dear? A month at least, where to the Hielands I now must mix with all too swift was my youthfu’ May its bene vayne: or her child! Blue, silver prowess, Arac, rolled on promoting my Highland Lassie, fair one, let her tucked from his only be containing, nor blame thy pride, to make politicians and Sir Leoline falls to hate, be happy night. That my faith infinite and so in leade the morning sweeter sweet, did I see save thorough-bred to her Deare, leave thornless Miss Maevia Mannish fire Brighten much spirted purple sphere; ascends that dies wish to move in sweetness a rosy brier, the dew of the amphibious surges sink and bright, close threshold, he, or hand invaded, sdeath! But whether too, in which was the times call’d him thy foot? One day will. Hope of louers case, I read. To cide thin, and lips Loues oene behest, and peeress, wild race.

Somehow convey’d, since sweet, did I see save thee, robed in tears to ceased; he shore, you threat, and be all the weak in sensual mire, scheming ever raise, tells us oft, and Christian chest, and lyftes him down: and saw all within who love the Lion’s brandy’s fervent and lie to them not, the expects name. There are spurn’d my face so truly heart the day, that still at least be companion’d or along there my smelling, maud is sweets war not; I would have also stood and iust excuse, none with banner of thing like a show, yet I hold the wheels. The watching to a point of view, are her traine that kept.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #182 texts #sonnet sequence

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saulocept · 2 years ago

Text

always & forever

pairing: ethan winters/reader

rating: m

summary: Tomorrow, he’ll have another chance, and he’ll do it better, play his cards right. And if he doesn’t succeed, then he’ll try again, over and over until he gets it right. Until you’re his, always and forever.

notes: obv ethan’s the best dad (tm) but also its interesting to imagine him as a very devoted, very obsessed husband (which is what im doing rn actually)

warnings: yandere! ethan, implied drugging. nothing explicit but uh. be careful out there folks

It’s routine now at this point, a muscle memory. He can’t remember a life before this – a life where he doesn’t wake early in the morning, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for the sword to fall. (It does. He knows it always will.)

In truth, he misses the days when everything’s alright, a dream come true, a fairytale come to life, with none of the complications that come with it. He misses the days when he’d wake up just beside you, watching the steady rise and fall of your breath, that slow, sluggish way your eyes would flutter open, your gaze immediately zeroing in on him like he’s the only one you could see. How you’d smile at him, all sleepy and innocent, leaning in to give him a kiss, and pleading if, just this once, he could stay a little longer, spend more time with you?

Those were the days, the happy ever after of his life. Everything after that is a nightmare, a curse – a burden he wishes he doesn’t have to carry. Something he’d rather forget but can’t. He takes a deep breath, shakes his head, pushes the thought down. He’s not the one who ruined it, after all.

It’s you. It was all you.

Curiosity kills the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. It’s that curiosity that’s driven you away from him, shattering whatever happy ending he’d worked so hard on. He ought to be angry, he knows, and some days, he feels that rage washing over him like a tide, recognizing his need for violence like an old friend.

But he pushes the thought away at the last moment, shaking his head, ignoring the thought. He can’t bring himself to hurt you, or punish you, even if you’re the one at fault. No, he loves you too much to even think about it, and he would sooner die than succumb to whatever feelings are stirring inside him, messing with his head.

He can be patient. He’d done it all before once, when he’s still trying to win you over, make you his. He can do it again. He’s nothing if not persistent, and he can still take it back, get it right, the way it was before, the way it’s meant to be, always and forever. You’ll just have to wait and see.

It’s nothing new this morning. He sits on the edge of the bed, quiet as he waits. You should be waking up now, like the princess from the fairy tales after a kiss from her one true love. Except, there’s no kiss, only the heavy silence that comes with too much waiting.

Still, he yearns for it: the feel of your mouth touching his, how you’d instinctively lean in for more, whimpering against his lips as if you can’t get enough. But those were the days, he knows – those were the days he’s still trying to get back, return to. And he can’t get distracted.

Your eyes flutter open, gentle as the beat of a locust’s wing, and he watches, waits, wonders what’s coming next. Your gaze narrows, squinting from the piercing sunlight. He bites the inside of his cheek, tries to hide a smile. The sight of you like this, so sleepy and sweet, feels almost like a reprieve. The calm before the storm.

But a moment’s only a moment, and he can’t linger in it any longer. He squares his shoulders, stares at you, still waiting for the sword to fall, for the atmosphere to break. There’s a tiny hope somewhere inside his chest, a little voice at the back of his head wondering if today’s going to be the day, the one he’s been waiting for all this time, where everything’s the way it was, the way it’s supposed to be. If he’ll even get his happy ever after back.

These moments always feel like forever. He feels tense, heavy, half-hopeful, half-afraid. It wouldn’t take long for you to notice him now, and he holds his breath for as long as he can, waits for your eyes to meet his.

He misses the recognition in your gaze, the adoration. Once upon a time, you would’ve called his name with such sweetness he’d melt right then and there, swearing to himself that he’d do anything you ever ask, no matter how difficult, troublesome.

But it’s different now. He has to be cautious, careful lest he ruins it all. He has to watch you the whole time, calculate your every move, read your silences as if it’d somehow give him the answer he needs. It’s what he does now, never once glancing away as he takes note of your movements: that slow way you sit on the bed, lazy instead of careful, that sudden turn of your head the moment you catch sight of his form.

You blink a few times, still staring. It takes a second for your confusion to settle in, slowly simmering into something more familiar, something he recognizes all too quickly – fear, and just beneath it all: dread.

You turn your head away, look around you, trying to find some familiarity that’ll ground you down, give you some answers. He knows quickly what you’ll find: nothing. He’d made sure of that yesterday, and then the night before.

Disappointment stirs in his gut, swirls slow and steady in his stomach. He sees the question in your eyes long before you could open your mouth to ask. It’s the same one you’d uttered over and over, morning after morning, and it feels nostalgic, reliving a memory a hundred times and more, enough that he’s memorized how it’d go, what would happen. Some kind of déjà vu, he thinks, though this time, it’s of his own making.

You search his face, try to find something in him you recognize. You find none. Your eyebrows furrow, lips twisting into an ugly frown. He wants to wipe it away, smooth it with his fingers, his lips, but he doesn’t move, afraid he’ll only make it worse, startle you.

You clear your throat, clench the sheets with your fingers, shoulders tensing as if ready to run. “Who are you?”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, opens them again. “Ethan. Ethan Winters,” he answers without pause, without hesitation. You nod your head, accept the answer quickly enough. You’re still gripping the sheets a little too tightly for his liking, and though he wants to reach out, hold your hand, easing the tension from your fingertips, he knows you wouldn’t let him touch you. Not yet. He could still see it in your eyes, fear and distrust swimming in your gaze, sharp enough to cut through him.

“Where am I?”

“Somewhere in Louisiana.” He keeps the answer simple, vague, afraid he’ll jog a few memories if he gets a little too specific. Like that one time, he thinks, though he shakes his head, pushes the memory away. Not the time.

Your eyes narrow, suspicious. You sit up a little straighter now, moving a few spaces away from him, looking ready to run, leave this place. He stares at you calmly, keeps his expression opaque and unreadable. It’s not as if there’s any place to run.

“Who am I?”

He says your name – all truth, no lies. He doesn’t bother to be vague about it. He likes your name enough not to change it, and he returns this piece of you like a gift, both to you and to himself.

The rest is easy; he’s fed you this lie enough times that he doesn’t stutter, or stumble over his words anymore. (He’s struck by the sudden memory of his first mornings, where he’d still stumble over his made-up story, and you’d grilled him with question after question, knowing that something’s wrong but not being able to say it.) You got into an accident, lost all your memories. Amnesia, as the doctors call it, though yours is slightly more different than the usual.

You accept it with a reluctant nod, knowing that something isn’t adding up, but refusing to press any further. He doesn’t like it when you’re like this. Careful, hesitant, afraid of him, wary like a dog.

He wishes for the peace of some other days, when you’re pliant and sweet, eager and accepting. When you’d take everything he gives you and more, knowing you can’t resist the pull he has on you.

Those are the days where everything’s nearly in his reach, closer to the paradise he’s always dreamed of, and yet something always ruins it at the last second, reducing all his hard work into ash. Nothing. A wrong word, a jogged memory. A piece of the truth resurfacing at the wrong time, and he has to do it all again, start from scratch.

But some days, he’s failing before he could even make progress. These are the days he hates the most, when you’re defiant and rebellious, eager to catch him in a lie, some trap or two you’ve woven between the silences.

How many times have you danced this same danced? A hundred times now, perhaps more. He knows what you’re going to ask long before the words are even out of your lips. He knows the way your mind works, or how you’d try to trap him in, catch him in the lie of his own making. It took a lot of tries, but he knows you better now, more than you even know yourself. And he takes pride in that knowledge.

Every bone, every sinew, every nerve ending. He knows which places could make you scream the loudest, knows which ones could make you crumble into seconds, surrendering to him, the feel of his hands.

But knowing everything doesn’t solve his problems. He’s seen that again and again, in the days when you’d refuse to believe everything he tells you, stubborn, defiant even to the very end. He hates you in those moments, hates the way you’d pull away from his touch, squirming in discomfort each time he kisses you; hates the way you look at him like he’s a stranger, recoiling each time he gathers you in his arms, holds you close.

He always has to fight the urge to redo the day again, start over from the beginning even if it’s already late in the afternoon, knowing there’ll be another chance the next day. If there’s one thing he’s learned about this is that real love requires patience, and he’s nothing if not a patient man. He’s made you his before, didn’t he? He’s got everything right once, and he’ll get it again, no matter what. No matter how many times it takes.

Something’s wrong. He doesn’t like it, but he feels it in the air nonetheless, thick as molasses, cloying on the tip of his tongue. He huffs out a breath, shakes his head, tries to ignore it as best as he can. Instead, he focuses on the book on his lap, skimming through the words written on the page.

He’s read this before, more than enough times to lose count – your favorite, the one you’d told him about all those years ago, and something he’d read and reread over and over, desperate to keep a part of you with him always. And yet, somehow, he can’t seem to concentrate; the words are swimming now, becoming jumbled, and all too soon, he gives up, shuts the book with an audible snap, placing it back on the bureau.

He rubs his eyes, then stands up, ready to leave the room. There’s a rustle that comes from beside him, and he stops, turns his head to the side just in time to catch you on the verge of waking, rubbing your eyes tiredly and sitting up.

His breath stills in his lungs, catching in his throat. He stares at you again, watches, waits, patient as a saint. You stare at your surroundings, eyes wide with curiosity as if you’re taking it in again for the first time. He can’t stop the way his lips twist into a smile, but he smooths his expression at the last second, puts the mask back in place the moment he sees you turning to look at him.

You blink a few times, eyeing him with a familiar wariness, frowning. “Who are you?”

Your voice is polite, cautious. He’s a complete stranger this time, someone you don’t recognize at all from somewhere, some distant past. It doesn’t matter.

“Ethan,” he says quickly, without missing a beat. He tilts his head, smiles at you, filled with tenderness and adoration that he knows would disarm you, make you second-guess yourself, “You don’t remember the name of your own husband?”

There it is: that doubt, that uncertainty. It swims in your gaze, stirring like a machine coming to life. He bites the inside of his cheek, tries to hide the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. Some progress, at least.

“Okay.” You’re still staring at him warily, eyeing him with a narrowed gaze as you try and rack your brain for a memory that isn’t there. He watches you, waits to see if you’ll come up with something, but a moment later and you’re shaking your head, giving him an apologetic look in response. So you can’t remember. Good. He’s made sure of that last night, when you were close enough to figuring out the truth. And now he gets to do this again, make it right in the way he couldn’t do so before.

“You’re Ethan… what?”

“Winters,” he replies just as quickly. “Ethan Winters.”

“Okay. Good.” You nod your head, take a deep breath. There’s a beat of silence before the next question comes, as predictable and easy as the first time. “Who am I?”

He tells you your name. He sees no use in changing it, especially when it’s yours, one of the things he loves about you. You nod again, accepting the answer quickly enough. Some of the tension in your shoulders loosens, and he sees you relax, leaning against the headboard as you search your brain for more questions. “How long have we been married?”

He smiles. It’s his favorite part of the story to tell. “A few years now.”

You nod, a little reluctantly. There’s a frown on your lips as you mull his words over in your head, uncertain if you should believe him or not. You lower your head, turning your hand this way and that, as if searching for an answer, some sort of proof to back it up. It sits there on your ring finger, a thin golden band, glinting brightly in the sunlight. He smiles again, victorious.

Still, the frustration in your voice isn’t lost on him. It’s clear that you remain unconvinced, the proof he’s given you still not enough. “Then how come I can’t remember anything about you? Us?”

He’s told this lie before, over and over that he’s almost starting to believe it. He doesn’t even falter anymore, or fumble. He’s memorized his lines, like an actor playing a part on a stage. “You got into an accident, a few months ago. The doctors called it amnesia. They said you won’t remember anything from your past for a while.”

You bite your lip, nodding. You’re quiet after that, still unsure what to make of his words. You’re staring at him, searching his eyes, his face for the grain of truth he knows you won’t find. But he lets you anyway, stares back at you impassively, hating how you stare at him like he’s someone else, a stranger and nothing more.

“Okay.” There’s no hostility in your voice, but he’s known you long enough to know that you don’t believe him, not one bit. He grits his teeth, balls his hands into fists. He digs his nails into his palms, hard enough that he feels it hurting. He’s sure it’ll leave a mark later, but he doesn’t care.

Still, he keeps his mask on, nods his head in understanding, pretends that your wariness doesn’t hurt him. He sees the surprise flashing in your eyes, caught off-guard for the briefest of seconds like you’re not expecting him to react like that, and for a moment, he wonders if it’s not too late to make the most of this.

He leaves you alone with only a word of goodbye. You nod at him in response, make no move to stop him. By the time he’s out of the door, there’s already a plan forming in his head. He’ll make it right, one way or another, no matter how many times it takes.

For the rest of the day, it’s like you’re walking on eggshells. You tread around him warily, as if you’re afraid you’ll step on his toes, make him angry. He frowns, though he doesn’t say anything. He sees the distrust in your eyes, the way you stare at him when you think he isn’t looking. Fear, terror. Afraid that he’s not the man he says he is. Afraid that he’ll hurt you if you make a mistake, do something wrong.

He almost scoffs at the thought. He’d sooner hurt himself than hurt you. Still, his devotion changes nothing. More than once he’s caught you staring at the door, examining it at a distance, calculating the steps between you and complete freedom.

He frowns. He hates that look in your eyes, that suspicion, that need to get away from him as quickly as possible. As though you can’t stand him. He wishes he could wipe it away, make every doubt and fear disappear.

Once upon a time, he could’ve done it quickly. A quick touch, a chaste kiss. Fingertips smoothing out the creases beneath your brows, distracting you from whatever thoughts are running through your head. Once upon a time, you would’ve let him. He misses those days already, wishes he could get them back – that paradise, that perfection. The little piece of heaven you’ve made for yourselves. Yours and his alone.

But it’s alright, he thinks. It doesn’t matter. He’s a patient man, after all, and one of these days, he’ll get it right. He has to. He has a promise to keep, after all, and a home that’s waiting for him to come back.

He makes you sweet tea in the evening, just the way you like it. No milk, two sugars. Across from you, he sits on the couch, nurses his own drink, takes a tiny sip as he watches you from the brim of his cup. He keeps his eyes on you the whole time, makes sure you drink all of it, down to the very last drop. He smiles at you when you do, cooing praises and sweet nothings, trying not to grin when he sees your face flushing in embarrassment.

Anticipation can be quite a drug. He feels it on his skin, in the very air around him, humming with a kind of electricity that makes him all alert, alive in a way he hasn’t felt before. His heart pounds against his chest, beats wild and loud as a war drum, enough to drown out every sound.

Excitement thrums in his veins. Every part of him is abuzz, singing. He feels drunk, floating. This could be it, he thinks. You’ve fallen right into his trap, and all that’s left now is to wait.

He stands up, makes his way over to you. His sudden proximity startles you, and you freeze in your spot, uncertain how to react, what to do. He takes this moment to lean in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, chaste and sweet. He doesn’t linger.

In the hours that follow, he remains by your side, close but not quite hovering. He watches you do your own thing, browsing through your favorite book, reading it all again as though it’s your first time. You grow gradually sleepy, yawning behind your hand, close to falling off the couch more than a few times.

“Sleepy?” he asks, and it takes you a moment to respond, sheepishly nodding your head. It wouldn’t do you any good to deny it, that much he knows.

He smiles at you, watches as you shut your book, try to stand up. You’re getting a little wobbly now, stumbling like you’ve had too much to drink, and quickly, he moves toward you, catches you at the last minute, righting your balance. You don’t protest when he guides you back to your room, carrying you in his arms when it’s clear you couldn’t get there without tripping over your own two feet every few seconds, even with his help.

Gently, he lays you down on the bed, pulls the blankets up to your chest, tucking you in. He occupies the space next to you, lies down in his usual spot. He wraps one arm around your waist, pulls you toward him. You don’t protest, don’t push him away, though you’re still stiff against him, defiant even to the last.

He leans in, closes the distance between you, kissing your hair, the crown of your head. A shaky breath escapes you, though you don’t pull away. Instinctively, he tightens his hold on you, firm but gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll bolt if he so much as lets you go. He tugs at a stray lock of your hair, presses it against his nose, takes in the familiar scent of your shampoo, pretends he couldn’t recognize the scent of your fear hanging in the air, raw and pungent.

He pulls away after a second, giving you a tiny smile, “Good night, my love. Sleep well.”

He couldn’t see you very well in the dark, but he can hear every sound you make, every little noise. You draw in a breath, shaky and uneven. There’s a slight tremble in your voice, and he can’t tell if it’s from fear, from something else entirely. He doesn’t think he wants to find out. “Good night.”

He hums under his breath. He lets the silence hang, the curtains fall. He counts the seconds in his head, watches you in the dark, waits for your breathing to grow steady. He doesn’t have to wait long. You quickly fall asleep, succumbing to the weight of your exhaustion, and as the silence is gradually filled with the sound of your snoring, he can’t stop the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

He pulls you closer to him, rests your head against his chest. You don’t stir in your sleep. This time, when he leans in to press a kiss on your forehead, you don’t stiffen, don’t try to resist. He closes his eyes, lets himself relax further into the covers, the pillows.

Tomorrow, he’ll have another chance, and he’ll do it better, play his cards right. And if he doesn’t succeed, then he’ll try again, over and over until he gets it right. Until you’re his, always and forever, the way you’d promised him all those years ago, in this very bed you sleep on.

He falls asleep, drifting off into the night, dreaming of happier days and a happier ending.

#renwrites #ethan winters x reader #ethan x reader #resident evil x reader

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metalandmagi · 4 years ago

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Winter 2021 Anime Worth Watching!

Since 2020 basically sacrificed itself to give us the most stacked anime season of all time, I’m currently buried under the weight of almost 20 shows airing per week. So for anyone who’s looking for some anime to watch this winter, here’s some first impressions! I’m speed running my list this time by only talking about the new shows...because otherwise this would be my great American novel.

If anyone’s interested, I have master lists for both 2020 anime and 2019 anime, because there’s no shortage of fun things to find.

New Shows!

And before anyone asks, So I’m A Spider, So What? isn’t on here, because CG spiders freak me out.

Cells At Work Code Black: This...less comedic spin off of Cells At Work (made by a different studio) takes the wholesome concept of Osmosis Jones meets cute anime girls and turns it on its head. In this much more depressing version, we follow a rookie red blood cell who works in the body of an overly stressed, alcoholic smoker who puts every strain on the body imaginable. I love Red Blood Cell AA2153 and his co-workers, but man am I glad we get the regular Cells At Work airing this season too, because I need something fun and uplifting after seeing my sweet son go through hell every episode.

*Heaven’s Design Team: Have you ever wondered how God came up with some of the weird ass animals that live on this planet? Like, what’s the deal with giraffes? And why can’t we have dragons and flying horses? Well this is a comedy about the engineers and designers in heaven creating the new animals that are going to inhabit the Earth. That’s it, that’s the show. It’s kind of in the same vein as Cells At Work, having comedy blend with a surprising amount of educational information. If you want something light and funny, this is the show for you (though I don’t think it needs to have full length episodes). I’m just hoping there’s an episode about how the hell the platypus was created. Also it’s the only new one available on Crunchyroll.

Horimiya: A romantic comedy about a girl named Hori who fits the image of a perfect queen bee and a quiet bespectacled boy named Miyamura who never makes an impression at school. When the two meet by chance outside of the classroom, we see that Hori is practically raising a younger brother by herself, and Miyamura is actually a sweet guy who happens to be covered in tattoos and piercings. This show is an exercise in breaking down the images people have of others in their minds, and it’s a concept that really hits home in a fun and meaningful way. Honestly, this has become one of my immediate favorites. The characters have great chemistry, and I can’t wait to see more of them!

Monster Incidents (Kemono Jihen): When big shot Tokyo detective Inugami is called to a rural town to investigate a series of strange animal deaths, he finds a mysterious boy with the nickname Dorotabo who has been shunned by the other children in town. As the detective gets closer to Dorotabo, he discovers that there may be more...inhuman secrets to the boy than he realizes...and Dorotabo discovers that Inugami has some secrets of his own. This is a hard show to sell without spoiling the first episode, but it had twists and turns that kept me engaged from start to finish. I’m really interested to see where the plot goes, because I thought this was going to be something totally different just from the PV and series summary. If it plays its cards right, this could be a great paranormal detective show!

Wonder Egg Priority: A psychological drama about a girl named Ai who starts having dreams about a mysterious egg that promises to give her what she wants most in the world...a true friend. Before long, she begins to see how the dream world and reality are tied together, and trippy antics ensue. It’s hard to say more without spoiling anything, but I had to go back and add this one in because I made the mistake of thinking it was an OVA when it’s actually a full series. And what a series it’s starting out to be. This anime has all the psychological discomfort of a Satoshi Kon product with the beauty and style of something from Kyoani (even though it’s made by Clover Works). It’s really one of those anime you just have to see to understand.

Sk8-∞ (Skate the infinity): An original skateboarding anime from Bones, featuring a typical sports anime protagonist who takes a new transfer student who has never skateboarded in his life under his wing. Together they compete in dangerous races and take the skating community by storm. The character designs rival Appare Ranman’s in outlandish creativity, and I can smell the main characters’ ship dynamic a mile away (considering they’re exactly the same as the protagonists from Robihachi). If you’re looking for some wild and crazy fun with top notch skateboarding animation, don’t skip this!

2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu (Seiin High School Boys Volleyball Club): Yes, it’s another volleyball anime. And no, it’s not just a clone of Haikyu. This story follows Yuni Kuroba, a physically built but emotionally weak teenager who finds out his childhood friend Hajime is moving back to their hometown for high school. Yuni discovers Hajime has become an exceptional volleyball player and they join their school’s volleyball club hoping to turn the unknown team into a rising star. If anything, this anime is much more like Stars Align or Free, where the sport is a backdrop for letting the characters explore their personal problems. Or at least it seems that way after the first episode. I went into this show ready to throw it in the trash because how could anything compete against my beloved Haikyu, but I found myself really enjoying the dynamics of the main duo and I’m curious to see what the rest of the team is like.

And speaking of sports anime rip-offs…..I can’t believe I’m including this but…

Skate Leading Stars: The show where the animators clearly wanted to design another throw away idol anime but saw how popular Yuri On Ice was so they decided to make whatever the hell this show is instead. It revolves around a fictional team sport called skate leading, and we follow the world’s most insufferable main character, a former figure skater named Kensei who wants to return to the ice and join his school’s skate leading team after he finds out his childhood rival is going to compete in the sport. Look, this show is just trashy enough to get a certain type of audience hooked, and it mainly has to do with the best boy of the winter season, Hayato Sasugai, the aspiring team “coach” who pulled most of us into watching this show with his punk appearance, snide comments and smug personality. He’s basically the lovechild of Izaya Orihara and Shizuo Heiwajima in a high school sports anime setting. The show treats itself with the perfect amount of sincerity to get away with being absolutely ridiculous most of the time without making you feel like you’re watching it from a dumpster...like Try Knights. You will know after one episode whether this show is for you. All I can say is, Hayato is worth the watch, and I haven’t seen any 3D animation used for the skating scenes (yet) so that’s a win for me.

Honorable mention:

Jobless Reincarnation ( Mushoku Tensei): Yet another isekai where the main character is hit by a car (big surprise) and gets reincarnated into a fantasy world...but he happens to remember his previous life and narrates himself growing up as a jaded adult. I’m only including this because it looked amazing animation wise, and I love the opening where getting hit by a car and dying is actually traumatic. And I love the protagonist’s parents (who are retired adventurers who just want to bang all the time). But honestly...the main character is the fucking worst, and I don’t know if I want to keep watching it because of how creepy and weird he is. Like...he’s the hit on your fantasy mom as a baby kind of creepy and weird. But for anyone who wants a cool looking isekai that had an amazing PV, it’s worth checking out.

Continuing Series!

Because the real gold of the season is in all the established anime getting their next seasons, I’m just going to list some of the things that are also amazing and definitely worth checking out if you haven’t already (because I’ve already talked about most of them at some point and don’t know what else to say).

Attack On Titan season 4

The Promised Neverland season 2

Beastars season 2

Log Horizon season 3

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime season 2

Re: Zero season 2 (second cour)

Dr. Stone season 2

Cells at Work season 2

Osomatsu-san season 3 (second cour)

Higurashi New (second cour)

Jujutsu Kaisen (second cour)

Not to mention all the shows I don’t watch that everyone else loves...like World Trigger (which I have seen quite a bit of, but long shounen shows are too much for me now) Quintessential Quintuplets, and Non Non Biyori.

So there’s just some of all the anime airing this season. Hopefully, someone can find something they like. Here’s to a great year...well, of anime at least...

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