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nflstreetsanimereviews · 10 months

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Anime Review: Oshi no Ko

To say that Oshi no Ko was the anime to watch for Spring 2023 would have been an understatement. The first episode, which was feature-length at 82 minutes, was quite possibly one of the best first episodes of an anime I’ve ever seen. Of course, with around four times the time to air–Oshi no Ko had to justify its length. If it was just average, then what was the point of the grand entry? Thankfully, Oshi no Ko more than justifies the dramatic entrance.

At the time, the sky-high average rating (90/100), while a good omen, seemed like a bit much considering the show had only just started. I know most people aren’t as pricks about rating anime as I am, but I was a bit skeptical. I’ve seen anime start strong only for opinion on it to change up after time has passed. After completing Oshi no Ko, I can comfortably say that it deserves the high marks it got then, and now.

The long run time of the first episode was only part of why Oshi no Ko was so well received initially. The stylistic choices (a part brought over by the manga) set it apart from the onset. It really captures the vibe of what an ‘idol’ idealistically is. Considering that Hoshino Ai is shown as the ideal idol, it’s a perfect match. While style can carry an anime (and manga) far, eventually even the biggest sucker will notice the lack of substance–fortunately for us, Oshi no Ko has both in plentiful amounts. The story contained within the first episode is a whirlwind. It’s astounding that Oshi no Ko can contain so many various themes and time skips and still maintain to be gripping. It’s not easy for a show to be compelling while essentially being Rugrats at the same time. While the story does slow down a bit starting with episode two, it still keeps up the quality while not betraying what drew people in the first place.

The synopsis for Oshi no Ko did it no favors–I had no idea what the show was going to be about from reading it. Maybe I’m just a moron, but tell me if you can dissect whatever the hell this means:

When a pregnant young starlet appears in Gorou Amemiya’s countryside medical clinic, the doctor takes it upon himself to safely (and secretly) deliver Ai Hoshino’s child so she can make a scandal-free return to the stage. But no good deed goes unpunished, and on the eve of her delivery, he finds himself slain at the hands of Ai’s deluded stalker — and subsequently reborn as Ai’s child, Aquamarine Hoshino! The glitz and glamor of showbiz hide the dark underbelly of the entertainment industry, threatening to dull the shine of his favorite star. Can he help his new mother rise to the top of the charts? And what will he do when unthinkable disaster strikes?

At first, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Thinking back, that was a good thing. I knew what was going to happen, while not knowing how it would happen. A good tell if a story is great is if it still is emotionally compelling even if you know what’s going to happen.

While she is only a side character when it comes to air-time, Ai Hoshino is without a doubt the star of Oshi no Ko. Her origins are mysterious–we know nothing about her mother and father, or any of her family for that matter. At first, she may seem like your bog-standard idol that sings and dances for you, but Ai has something that almost no other idol has. That something is the power to enthrall viewers with her eyes. Well, not actually, but her star-shaped pupils represent her commitment to the bit. While she’s on a mission to give love to her fans, she hasn’t ever felt anything close to that in her life. That’s perhaps how she was lured into a relationship and got impregnated. Not wanting to ruin her reputation, she goes into hiatus during that time and afterward resumes as if nothing happened. Little does she know that she gave birth to two people that have already lived a life–a life admiring their now mother.

Aquamarine and Ruby Hoshino, who are both reborn as Ai’s child, were admirers of Ai in their past lives. Aquamarine (he goes by Aqua) was a doctor in his past life, who became a fan of Ai via one of his patients. That patient, Sarina Tendouji, happens to be the person reborn as his twin sister, Ruby. Ruby had a condition that kept her bedridden and in need of constant care. I do wonder how they’ve made it this far without realizing that they’ve already known each other in a past life–it would make sense considering they both had the ability to walk and talk, among other things, as soon as they were born. I have a birds-eye view of their story, which makes it unfair to assume they would know that. Anyways, being reincarnated as Ai’s children gives them both the ability to live with their favorite idol–something only that would happen in their wildest dreams previously…that is, until the ‘unthinkable disaster strikes’. I won’t spoil what the ‘unthinkable disaster’ is, but if you’ve interacted with anyone that’s watched or read Oshi no Ko, you probably know what it is. That ‘unthinkable disaster’ gives them both motivation to shine in showbiz. For Aqua, that means becoming a teen heartthrob actor for the purpose of finding and getting revenge on those who caused the ‘unthinkable disaster’. He also works behind the scenes as a protege of director Taishi Gotanda, so he can establish further connections. For Ruby, it means becoming an idol that shines as bright as her mother. Their connections and the fact that they kept their intelligence and memories of their past life gives them a huge advantage in achieving their goals. Aqua, who was a doctor that was pushing thirty before being killed in his past life, is intelligent and mature to the degree that he can communicate with adults without any sense of childish insecurity. This is because internally, Aqua IS an adult. Around 45 if my math is correct. Ruby on the other hand, still has that childlike immaturity since she passed away as a teen in her life. She does have immense knowledge of idol culture, and of B-Komachi (the group Ai was in), which makes her a repository of most things idol-related.

Kana Arima is listed as the third main character, but I would classify her more as a ‘super-supporting character’. A former child actor that is in her own words ‘past her prime’, she becomes acquainted with Aqua as toddlers when they both star in a movie. Known as the ‘genius child actor who can cry in 10 seconds’ and the ‘Bell Pepper Girl’, she has trouble finding industry gigs now due to her behavior as a child. Becoming acquainted with both Aqua and Ruby, she finds herself working with them often, even joining the same production company they’re in. Her mission in Oshi no Ko is to regain her footing within the entertainment industry. Being a 17-year-old ‘has been’ is a lot for someone to handle. All she wants is to be adored by fans again and to regain her confidence. Kana’s story, while nowhere near as important as the main story, also runs parallel to Aqua and Ruby’s.

Akane Kurokawa, the actress that is extremely thorough when it comes to researching her roles, and MEM-cho, a YouTuber that stars alongside Aqua in a dating show, also deserve an honorable mention. Akane plays a crucial role in Oshi no Ko–one that I can’t get into without spoiling more than I want to. MEM-cho is the closest thing we have to a gag character. She serves as a casual observer of what’s going on around her.

Oshi no Ko is from the same mangaka that wrote Kaguya-sama: Love is War. While Oshi no Ko had me drawn in within the first twenty minutes, I was really never into Kaguya-sama. Does that mean that Oshi no Ko is better than Kaguya-sama? Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but it's certainly true that I enjoyed it more. If you’re a fan of one, you’re likely to be a fan of the other. ‘Non-Battle Battle Anime’ is generally something that’s better as an idea than in practice. Death Note has its moments, but overall is mediocre. Shokugeki no Souma (Food Wars) started out alright, but devolved into some of the worst anime I’ve ever watched by the fourth season (Third season part two? I don’t know. Doesn’t matter). The first volume of Classroom of the Elite (which got an anime adaptation with multiple sequels) only made me think of WHY would I, along with anyone else at the academy, would want to be part of the ‘elite’ of a country that’s been on the decline for thirty years straight? Most ‘Non-Battle Battle Anime’ is nothing more than making a mountain out of a molehill, or pseudo-intellectual garbage in Classroom of the Elite’s case. What makes Oshi no Ko better than anything else listed here is the ability to not get too involved in trying to make events seem important, and instead lets them play out. Not everything is the most important thing ever. Especially with series like Oshi no Ko where multiple side-plots are going parallel with the main plot. The exaggerated cynicism that often plagues other ‘Non-Battle Battle Anime’ isn’t a problem in Oshi no Ko as well. Sure, being an idol isn’t all sunshine and roses. Anyone who has half a brain knows that. Oshi no Ko doesn’t pretend like it’s a grand revelation that the idol industry is seedy and contains people of questionable morals. It doesn’t treat you like a dunce that needs to be spoon-fed everything. However, it does often tell you things that you actually didn’t know–like how the reason many YouTubers show off every new gadget they buy is for it to be a tax write-off. Maybe that’s just me not putting two and two together, but it makes sense considering that there’s no other reason why an idol or a podcast host would want to show off their new Hoover vacuum cleaner.

Speaking of the manga–I find the anime the more enjoyable version of Oshi no Ko. This is partly because I tend to prefer anime over manga in the first place, but also I feel like a series that’s centered around idols needs a voice for it to show its ‘true form’. The manga is good, don’t get me wrong, but there’s only so much you can do with only drawings. It’s like the difference between reading about a fight that goes on and being able to view it in visual form. There’s a reason why Dragon Ball doesn’t have any light novels (that I know of). Both the manga and anime are great. The user ratings for both will back that up. Your preference will depend on what you prefer in the first place most likely. The anime is the more appropriate medium for a series like Oshi no Ko in my opinion. That being said, it takes a manga to fully relay your idea for a story–one of idolization and revenge. Can’t have the cart without the horse.

A burning question you may have about Oshi no Ko is “What does it have to say about the idol industry?” Is it a ‘deconstruction’? Does it paint a positive view? Well, you know the latter isn’t true if you’ve made it this far. However, Oshi no Ko isn’t hyper-critical of the idol industry as it may seem. Sure, it would be easy to paint a cynical picture of the idol industry since it can be really nasty at times. Obsessive fans, very questionable use of underage girls, and the fact that idols are more than often forced to be ‘married’ to the fanbase. Having to forgo any relationship sans a business one with men and having to hide them if they do have one. Idol series like Love Live! forgo any mention of relationships with the other sex. Other than Miki Hoshii’s attachment to Producer-san, The Idolm@ster doesn’t show anything of the like either. Of course, that doesn’t stop either series from having yuri-fanatics ship characters together, or from doujin artists from drawing them getting railed, but in official media, these things are persona non grata. That’s because those series show an idealistic view of idols. They aren’t real people, so they can dance and sing all they want without worrying about reality. Reality often does shine its ugly light in those series, but it never defines it. The other end of this spectrum would be the film Perfect Blue. Perfect Blue is about a former idol, which technically isn’t the same as a ‘current idol’, but it still shows how one obsessive fan can give an otherwise normal woman chronic paranoia. Perfect Blue isn’t by any means over-cynical. It’s a great psychological thriller that still holds up to this day. Not exactly a shining endorsement of the idol industry, but that wasn’t the point. At least I think.

The point is that it’s easy to be hyper-cynical about everything idol related. However, that wouldn’t be a real representation of the idol industry either. While it may come off as ‘smart’, after a while it would just be lazy. Many people conflate pessimism with intelligence and optimism and dullness. Anime isn’t immune to that tendency. Too much cynicism only reveals that you have no idea what you’re talking about and are either too inept or apathetic to give an actual realistic view of what you’re trying to portray. Oshi no Ko thankfully doesn’t fall into this trap. I mean, for every obsessive fan there is, there are more fans like Ruby, who becomes an idol because she ‘idolizes’ them. The power of idols to brighten someone’s day is the reason why they still exist, even if you recognize that they’re ‘lies’ at the end of the day. Ruby isn’t the only one that decides to become an idol due to inspiration from former idols–many idols of today harbor fond memories of idols of yesterday. Like how many racers are inspired by the greats like Ayrton Senna and Dale Earnhardt, those that are taken from us too soon tend to be extra special to our hearts. Oshi no Ko is quick to point out that being an idol isn’t all fun and games–but that’s because being an entertainer, in general, isn’t as fun as it seems. Again, anyone with a brain knows that.

Aqua, who fully commits to being an actor so he can exact his revenge against those who caused the ‘unthinkable disaster’, has to work hard to keep climbing up the ranks. Having connections will only get you so far. He has the smarts that almost no 16-year-old boy has–mostly because he was book-smart enough to become an obstetrician in his past life. Thankfully for him, Aqua also has common sense, which makes it easier for him to use social manipulation in order to get closer to finding out the truth behind the ‘unthinkable disaster’. Being a handsome young man probably helps with that as well. The point is that to get his revenge, he needs to curry favor with industry higher-ups. Do a favor for them in exchange for information that’ll lead him closer to the answer. His journey, like Ruby’s, also shows the good, the bad, and the ugly about the entertainment industry. One of the arcs in the anime was inspired by real-life events from a dating show that’s similar to the one that Aqua participates in, so it isn’t like this isn’t made up out of whole cloth.

To answer the question, Oshi no Ko has a lot to say. Not only about the idol industry, but the entertainment industry as a whole. While it’s only a small part of the story, managing to strike a balance between blind idealism and realism enhances Oshi no Ko’s overall plot by a lot. It would be less powerful if it had Love Live’s interpretation of the entertainment industry or went the other way and everyone was a back-stabbing two-timing son-of-a-bitch ready to end your career to elevate theirs. The reality is that while there are a lot of social climbers, there are also earnest people. Aqua and Ruby meet people from both categories–and perhaps Aqua may be considered the former once you understand his true motives.

There isn’t much to rag about when it comes to Oshi no Ko. My main question as far as I know has gone unanswered is “What year is it?”. From the time that Aqua and Ruby are reborn to the current time, it seems that technology and society have not evolved whatsoever. One could say that the ‘current day’ is around now, which means they were reincarnated in the early 2000s, but that wouldn’t make sense because Ruby was already doom-scrolling and responding to hate directed towards her mother on an iPhone as a baby. That lead me to believe that the Oshi no Ko timeline was somewhere in the late 2030s, with technology not progressing any from the 2020s. Oshi no Ko doesn’t show Aqua or Ruby living in a techno-futurist utopia or dystopia. Society around them is ‘stuck’ in a sense. In order to find an answer to my question, I went to the Oshi no Ko subreddit. According to them, the answer is ‘whatever the mangaka (Akasaka) wants’. The evidence, however, suggests that Oshi no Ko takes place around the late-2010s, with Aqua and Ruby being born in 2004. This relies on the notion that Oshi no Ko and Kaguya-sama take place in the same universe. A Kaguya-sama character does make a cameo, so it’s not false to suggest that they are in the same universe. This wouldn’t explain how Aqua and Ruby were able to go viral on Twitter as babies when Twitter didn’t exist until a few years later. Ultimately, the conclusion is that it doesn’t matter, since it doesn’t interfere with the main plot at hand. It’s trivial to wonder why Twitter looks the same 15 years later, or why the technology in Oshi no Ko hasn’t progressed since Aqua and Ruby were born. It’s an afterthought that only pedants like me care about. It’s not the first series that had a fluid timeline, and it wouldn’t be the last.

As you can probably tell, there’s not much fault I can find with Oshi no Ko. Sure, I could be more nit-picky about certain details, but that has little to do with the story at hand. It checks off all of the boxes that make a great anime. The animation quality is superb. I don’t care for anime openings and endings, but most other watchers love the music–especially the opening theme. Aqua and Ruby both have separate missions in the entertainment industry, but both do it for their mother Ai–both storylines have a lot to offer. Neither storyline outshines the other, something that most anime that attempt the same fail to deliver. The supporting characters (super-supporting character in Kana’s case) also have compelling stories that feed into the main plot. It has the right balance between idealism and realism. Some more skeptical watchers may accuse Oshi no Ko of handing the dark side of ‘the industry’ with kid gloves. I disagree with that view since the industry isn’t as bad as some may like to think it is. The reason why stories like this are so compelling is because of how rare it is. If idols were getting jumped by obsessive fans every day, this wouldn’t be a story worth telling. No one would give a shit. If you dive too deep into the cynicism, you’ll end up looking as stupid as those who trick themselves into thinking that idols are for them, and them only.

With a second season coming ‘soon’, there’s no risk of diving into Oshi no Ko only to be left at a cliffhanger. This season ends at the beginning of the arc that I think does get too “Non-Battle Battle” with it. The anime adaptation of it should flow better–it’s hard to read multiple chapters that are just monologues. Way easier to shove that into one or two episodes. Then again, I’m more than likely in the minority when it comes to being bearish on the 2.5 Stage Play arc. I hate to admit it, but it kinda got too much for me at a point. Luckily, that’s the only arc where that happens. Either way, I’ll be watching it, and I recommend that you do too.

Is Oshi no Ko the anime of the year? Well, I wouldn’t go that far since we still have two seasons' worth of anime yet to be aired. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was voted AOTY at whatever award show Crunchyroll hosts. I wouldn’t complain either. It’s genuinely a very good show that deserves the praise it gets.

90/100

#anime review #anime #oshi no ko #onk #review

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altairtalisman · 3 months

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Happy birthday @redlover411, drew Crowley and Aziraphale kissing because... I'll be honest, their kiss scene was ranked pretty high when I looked up Good Omens on YouTube so... yeah haha

"We could've just been... us" is a pretty powerful line though haha

#Good Omens #Anthony J. Crowley #Aziraphale #I seriously do NOT get kiss scenes no matter how many references I look up #Altair draws #presents from the celestial demon

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sannes-reincarnation-saga · 14 days

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Chapter two: Ivar.

CW: Slaves in a medieval society, abuse,

The only thing keeping Ivar alive in this hellhole was his desperate desire to kill Katherine Blackthorne.

It was a freezing November night and Ivar knew he was supposed to die here, trapped in this narrow kennel in the middle of the castle's courtyard.

During the day, he was on perfect display, stripped of his clothes and dignity for the English to gawk at. But now, the night engulfed him in darkness as thick as the northern sea during a night dive.

Pain pulsed through Ivar’s legs. They twitched, unable to straighten in the cramped space.

The kennel's icy bars warmed as they pressed into his shins and he leaned his clammy forehead against them. They felt almost good against the burn of his fever.

His back must have gotten infected after the last whipping. The soiled hay in his kennel stuck to the dried blood on his back, irritating the crisscross of partly crusted wounds. Every twitch pulled his skin painfully, and he trembled violently in the frigid air.

Somewhere to his right, a heavy metal door slammed shut. The servants’'s entrance? It was too loud for a wooden door and not loud enough for a castle gate. But this late at night?

A pair of heavy steps rushed towards the courtyard, joined by a couple lighter ones. Nervous whispers echoed through the cloister walk as they drew near.

“Does Lady Blackthorne know of this?” asked an older maid. Ivar strained to listen. Nothing ever happened in Blackthorn castle without the bitch’tes knowledge. And explicit permission.

“Not yet,” came the gruff reply.

“But- you can’t bring a stranger inside! Who even is this girl? Oh gods, what if she's a witch?”

“Doubtful. Found her out in the woods, totally out of it.”

“But- The woods? At this time? A girl shouldn’t be in the woods at night. And why- why is she naked?” The woman's voice pitched high within discomfort on the last question.

“Dunno. Should I have left her to freeze to death?”

“No! But- but I have nothing to do with this, you hear. Nothing.”

A lone lantern flame cast their long shadows onto the courtyard as they rounded a corner. Hissing, Ivar shifted onto his side to see them set foot on the wet cobblestones. They glittered in the light.

The head of housemaids hurried ahead, head turning hectic on her long neck to spot any possible witnesses lurking in the dark. Her bonnet sat askew on graying brown hair, thrown on in a rush no doubt, but her black servants dress fell straight down to her ankles, the dark linen pristine and bar any wrinkles. In stark contrast to the bulky, mud smeared appearance of the huntsman following her.

His boots and leather trousers were crusted in late autumn slush. A thick scarf and hat obscured half his face. Only his frostbitten red nose and grim eyes were visible, looking down at the person he carried bundled in his coat.

“By the gods, did you hear that?” Ivar could see the woman's face now, her sharp features drawn tight in displeasure. Her thin lips pursed as she spat out: “I think that Norse pig is awake.”

The huntsman didn’t answer. Instead he wrapped his brown leather coat tighter around the unconscious girl in his arms. Pale, dangling legs and a shock of blond hair stuck out of it.

“How can you be this calm?” The woman spat, black skirt swishing as she faced him. “What if he rats us out for some extra food?”

The huntsman's bushy brows furrowed. “The Norse are too proud to bargain for food scraps.”

Ivars dry lips cracked in a smile, when a sudden burst of wind whipped across the courtyard, its howl drowning out the servants' protests and extinguishing the lantern flame. When it hit him, his black salt-sweaty hair blew into his gray eyes, hay flying everywhere.

“A bad omen,” hissed the maid. Cloth rustled and a match scraped against a matchbox’s striking strip. Once. Twice. “I tell you all this is a bad omen.” It lit with a crackling sizzle.

The wind carried a smell that sent goosebumps down Ivar’s back.

The stench of angels.

The sweet decay of death hit him like a battering ram, catapulting his thoughts to abandoned battlefields full of angels sprouting from the ground, decomposing the corpses of his comrades.

Why would the huntsman haul an angel touched corpse from the woods? Ivar wondered, swallowing down bile.

After some fumbling the maid’s lantern flickered back to life and Ivar noticed the small puffs of warm breath escaping from the unconscious girl. So she wasn’t dead?

A draugr perhaps? No, Ivar doubted it. Never would the huntsman make such a mistake.

But angels only took the living. And never let go of the dead.

Whatever this girl was, a living corpse or a human, Ivar knew at least one thing for sure:

She was an unplanned disturbance in Katherine’s meticulously run machinery of a castle.

And during war, disturbances meant chances.

Ivar curled up in his frigid kennel, back burning at the stretch. For the first time since his capture, he smiled.

Taglist:

@ashintheairlikesnow @vickytokio @newbornwhumperfly @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @studyofwhump @dragyouthroughthewhump @studyofwhump @secretwhumplair @whump-queen @whump-captain

#isekai #dark fantasy #fantasy #isekai manga #light novel #manga #manga art #whump #viking whumpee #medival fantasy

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theangelwithawand · 10 months

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Good Omens Incorrect Quotes 4

Not mine but still fun

Aziraphale : There is no future. There is no past. Don't you see? Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every fact.

Crowley : ...All I asked was if you wanted to cut your birthday cake first.

Aziraphale : Why are you on fire?

Crowley : This is just how my day is going.

Crowley : What do you call a dictionary on drugs?

Aziraphale : If you say "addict-ionary" I swear I will smite you.

Crowley : I was actually going to say "high definition", but your answer's much better.

Aziraphale : ...

Crowley , answering the phone: Hello?

Aziraphale : It’s Aziraphale .

Crowley : What did they do this time?

Aziraphale : No, it’s me, Aziraphale . It’s actually me.

Crowley : What did you do this time?

Aziraphale : You have your weirdly sincere humility.

Crowley : I prefer the term "self-loathing", actually.

Aziraphale , opening a Capri Sun: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

Aziraphale : I hate you.

Crowley : Well, according to this picture I drew of us holding hands, that is untrue.

Aziraphale , skipping rocks on a lake with Crowley : It’s such a beautiful evening.

Crowley : Yeah, it is.

Crowley : *whispering* Take that you fucking lake.

Crowley : I'm gonna get my pilot's license. I've already got a driver's license and a cosmetology license, that's two of the big five licenses.

Aziraphale : The big five licenses?

Crowley : Driver's license, cosmetology license, pilot's license, fishing license, and… license to kill! I can't wait to get that one.

Aziraphale : Are you trying to seduce me?

Crowley : Why, are you seducible?

Aziraphale : I’d like to live through a week that’s not a whole new verse of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Crowley : I’m having salad for dinner!

Aziraphale :

Crowley : Well, fruit salad.

Crowley : Actually, it’s mostly grapes.

Aziraphale :

Crowley : Okay, it’s all grapes.

Crowley : Fermented grapes.

Aziraphale :

Crowley :

Aziraphale :

Crowley : It’s wine.

Crowley : I’m having wine for dinner.

Crowley : I think I should be allowed on ghost hunter tv shows.

Aziraphale : I think that would be dangerous for the ghosts.

Crowley : If we don’t get out of this alive… If we’re both about to die… I love you, Aziraphale !

*Neither of them die*

Aziraphale : …

Crowley : …

Aziraphale : So do you wanna talk about somethi-

Crowley : No thank you.

Crowley on Monday: *glues 5p to the sidewalk* Heh heh heh.

Crowley on Wednesday: *walking down the street* Ooh hey! 5p!

Aziraphale : You use humor to deflect your trauma.

Crowley : Awww, thanks-

Aziraphale : That’s not a good thing.

Crowley : All I’m hearing is that you think I’m funny.

Aziraphale : When do you usually go to sleep?

Crowley : Whenever I collapse is entirely up to the gods.

*Crowley is fighting a monster*

Aziraphale : Just stay calm! You already have everything you need to beat it!

Crowley : The power to believe in myself!?

Aziraphale : No, a knife! Stab it!

Crowley , grinning: I have a knife!

Aziraphale : Put it down, Crowley .

Crowley : Make me! *sprints away*

Aziraphale : Pick a card, any card.

Crowley : Fine.

Aziraphale : Wait, that's my credit card!

Crowley : You said any card.

#aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves aziraphale #crowley x arizaphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale and crowley #crowley and aziraphale #aziraphale #crowley #azicrow #good omens #ineffable idiots

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lurkingpassion · 6 months

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Can we talk about music in season 2? I think I may be getting too anxious because of it, but I need to drop the idea. And I don't mean the fact that we heard almost nothing of Queen, though it is a disturbing problem as well. What I mean is the background music at the end, at the lift scene.

Now, I'm not a musician and have no education as such, so I'm going to speak in simple words, and you have all the right to think I'm just imagining things. Probably I am. But I've seen and heard enough musical analysis and soundtracks to notice some patterns.

So, the ending. Around the kiss scene and down to the end credits, we hear sad string and piano music that keeps stretching our emotional breakdown more and more. And then, by the lift to Heaven, after the Metatron mentions the Second Coming, a sudden appearance of new instruments – a high-pitched flute and a harp. The strings are still there, but they are not the main theme any more, they're the background. When Aziraphale looks back at Crowley, the strings come back to the fore. Then he turns to the Metatron – we hear the harp again; Aziraphale smiles and steps into the lift.

The change of the musical instruments isn't the only thing that caught my attention. It's the meaning behind it and the choice that was made.

There is nothing unimportant in this season, and the music was always spot on. The recent scene with the kiss is literally a perfect example: the volume, the tone, the mood, the speed, the climax, the pauses – oh my god, these pauses that drew my soul out. Everything was where it should be and when it should be, to create the ambience, to emphasise the feeling, to direct the mood.

The violins and strings in general are notorious for the sad mood they can create. Obviously, it's not their only purpose, but if you hear a sorrowful or even mournful track, there is an enormously high possibility the string orchestra is present. And the whole break-up scene, Aziraphale's connection with Crowley at large in all the ways, it is all framed in these heartbreaking strings and is almost drowning in them.

What about the harp? It's not a common instrument, but can you recall moments in movies or games where you heard it? What was on your screen when you listened to it? What atmosphere did it create? I can give you some hints.

Fairytales. Magic. Enchantment. Miracles. And hints, too, by the way. That is the most common usage of the harp – and the high-pitched flute – I've come across.

I cannot claim that Aziraphale was under the influence of a miracle from that damned coffee; I can only guess. But what I do know is that nothing in Good Omens happens for no reason, and the music is a big part of the series.

I do have a few suggestions what the meaning behind the magic harp was, though.

It may mean that Aziraphale was indeed miraculously influenced.

It may mean that he got a hint or solved a puzzle he struggled with.

It may only mean the fact of the delusion – the fairytale the Metatron told him before, when making his offer.

And it may mean the fairytale itself. What is the main distinguishing feature of the fairytales? The happy ending. Season 3 is definitely not far off.

It may also mean something I can't put my finger on yet.

By the way, you can hear the harp in the background in the kiss scene as well – speaking of the happy ending afterward, I damn hope.

Besides, after Crowley leaves the bookshop, Aziraphale stops himself from showing his unwillingness to go with the Metatron. He makes a pause, watches out of the window; you hear a quiet harp; he smiles and walks outside.

I don't know if I'm just going all conspiratorial too hard. If I am, I hope someone more calm and experienced with music can take something from this idea and make it better. Because I'm pretty sure the music here is not just a soundtrack.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens theory #an attempt into music analysis #good omens soundtrack

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writingquestionsanswered · 1 year

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Hello! I wanted to know if there was any tips to get you back to writing a Story for a fandom that you are no longer interested in. Basically, how can you find that certain ✨️spark✨️ that you once had when you first entered the fandom, in order to find the motivation and inspiration to go back to writing that piece again?

Fan-Fiction: Finding Spark to Finish Old Fic

We talk a lot about "sparks of inspiration" in creative writing, because those creative sparks are what motivate us to write about a particular thing. Sparks of inspiration can come from almost anywhere, but quite often they arise out of our interest in something. For example, if you're interested in high fantasy and you become interested in found family, you might be inspired to write a high fantasy incorporating found family. Your interest in examining the theme and dynamics of found family is what motivates you to write the story. So, when we lose that interest, that's a problem.

So, how do we rekindle that interest once it's lost? With original fiction, it's a matter of rediscovering your interest in the story you wanted to tell--the characters, the world, the themes you wanted to explore, the events you wanted to happen. With fan-fiction, it's a bit more complicated, because not only do you have to rediscover your love for the story you wanted to tell, you have to rediscover your love for the story that inspired you in the first place. In other words, if you're writing Good Omens fan-fiction, for example, you need to rekindle your interest in Good Omens before you can rekindle your interest in your own story. And rekindling your interest in someone else's story... that can be tricky.

We write fan-fiction because we're head over heels in love with a story, whether it's a TV show, movie, book, comic, musical, celebrities, etc. And the thing/s that make us head over heels in love with that story in the first place can be very specific to who we are in that moment in time. The genres that interest us, the actors who put butterflies in our stomachs, the characters we connect with, the themes that resonate with us, and the pairings that gave us life... that can change even after a few months. So, when you've moved on and those things about that fandom no longer interest you, what do you do?

Fake it. You have to fake it. Start by sitting down and doing some thinking about what you loved about that fandom in the first place. What drew you to watch it/read it in the first place? What elements early on made you think "OMG, I LOVE THIS"? What was it about the genre that pulled you in? Who were the actors you liked best and why? Which characters did you connect with and why? What themes resonated with you most and why? Which pairings made your heart beat out of your chest? Try watching some fan-videos on YouTube to remind you of what you loved. Look for character studies, episode or season tributes, ship-focused videos, or ensemble videos. You can also try watching trailers, behind-the-scenes featurettes, blooper reels, clips, cast/crew interviews, and vlog-style videos that examine the story or characters.

Once you've done that, hopefully you'll feel enough of that initial spark that you'll be motivated to work on your fic again. You'll still probably have to think about the story you wanted to tell and why you wanted to tell it, but hopefully this wave of motivation will be enough to help you finish your story.

I hope that helps!

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#writeblr #writing fanfic #writing community #writers of tumblr #writing tips #writing help #writing advice #wqaadvice

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vintagelacerosette · 1 year

Text

Artist/ Fic Writer Interview

I was tagged by the magnificent darling Chrissy @you-are-so-much-better-than-that who came up with the artist questions, the sensational sweetheart Harvey @mikhailoisbaby & honeypie Willow @ian-galagher thank youuu 🥰

1. Do you post on Ao3? If so, how many works do you have on AO3? If not, where do you post?

I don't post my art on ao3 but on tumblr 😊

2. What is your total art count?

17 🎨

3. What are your top 5 pieces by likes/kudos?

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do respond by liking them bc most comments are in the tags & idk should i respond in the comments? lol

5. What is your current fandom, and what was the first fandom you drew for?

Current fandom: Gallavich & First fandom i drew for & shared my art is Gallavich but probably first fandom was maybe soul eater

6. Have you ever received hate on any art?

Not hate but a complaint on my gallacrafts for theme 11 I'm fucking gay. I got an anon asking why I made the lesbian flag & put the phrase I'm fucking gay & i that should have just done lesbian although I had actually made both but it was on the part 2 bc i had a limit of 10 pictures.

7. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t drawn for yet but want to?

Maybe Spirk or Soul x Maka from Soul Eater

8. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Gallavich most definitely, they hit all my likes in a ship plus they're canon & married to boot! #spoiled 😆

9. Do you draw outside of fandom?

Yeah I started getting back into drawing with makinng flowers for mutual's birthday 🥰 I've also made little mascots of baby animals for my niece's baby shower

10. What’s the an art piece you’ve drawn that came out completely differently than you expected?

Probably the GGE2022 for Macy. I had some other ideas. Also their poses were gonna be different like it was either the back of them looking at snow or tumbled into the snow on top of an ny roof top but still not the best at figure drawing so i just did the best of my abilities 😄

11. Do you draw smut?

Not yet but one day 😏

12. Have you ever had any of your art stolen or copied?

Not that I know of

13. Have you ever collaborated on a piece?

No but I think it could be fun to do 🖼

14. What’s an idea you have that you have yet to draw?

Snow king Mickey & Snowflake fae Ian that was gonna be my 2nd choice for the GGE2022 but i loved making fanart for Macy 🥰

Crop top Ian & Mickey in Ian's ROTC hat

Smoo fae Mickey in Ian's arms from a reference pic i saw here

15. What are your drawing strengths?

Faces, hair, blushing & colouring maybe?

16. What are your drawing weaknesses?

Poses, hands & backgrounds

17. What’s your favourite art piece you’ve drawn?

I would say my good omens au I simply adorethe little details I put into the drawing. I referenced Mickey's outfit in Ian's delete scene dream. Ian's outfit is 7x10 just in darker colours. I loved being able to create Ian's ombre eyes by colour picking Cameron's hazel ones. Ian's hair shading. The heart wings & being able to creat the wing texture on the angel wing. AND their signature shows with the timberland & bright read air forces!!! I had such a fun time drawing this 🥰 Also it was my 100,000 post lol

18. What is one thing you’d like to tell people about your art that they might not know?

My gallavich art is the first time I've been colouring my drawings. When I drew a lot in high school I would just do the line art & was too hesitant to colour them.

19. What inspires or motivates you to create for fandom?

Definitely you guys! Being able to make you guys smile. As well as your creations & the creating events 💕🖌

20. And finally, can you describe your process a little? Do you have a favourite place to draw? Do you play something in the background? Do you do research or just go for it? Give us a little insight.

I do like to crawl up into a hunched ball on the lounge couch or my bed (which should stop bad for posture lol) Then I do enjoy playing YouTube video essays about internet history/horror games I'd never play or movie reactions.

Also, I am more of an artist who researches & and works with many references. I got a whole lotta unclosed tabs of Ian & Mickey, body poses & clothes that i forgot to close lol.

So I’m not a fic writer yet! 😉 But here are the interviews questions if you guys wanna ❤️

Fic Writer Interview

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

7. Do you write crossovers?

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

15. What are your writing strengths?

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I’m tagging these twinkling hearts if they wanna play 🥰 @mrsinistertype @crossmydna @friend-bear @darthvaders-wife @psychicskulldamage @divine-gallavich @very-sleepy-head @deathclassic @celestialmickey @depressedstressedlemonzest @suchagallabitch @bekkachaos @ianandmickeygallavich @milkoviched @grumpymickmilk @gallavichgeek @annatrow @sisitrip @lalazeewrites @imikhailotakeyouian @look-i-love-u @suzy-queued @y0itsbri @mishervellous @filorux @jomilky @auds-and-evens @xninetiestrendx @beebabycastiel @bravemikhailo @arrowflier @shameless-notashamed @adakechi @skies-below @takeyourpillsbitchh @mikcrymilkovich @tsuga-of-mars @ardent-fox @you-show-me-love @wehangout

#tag game #artist interview

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 2 years

Text

Tragic Kingdom part 2

18+ 🌶🌶

All night Loki laid awake mulling over your brief but painful conversation. He couldn’t think of you as a sexual being. That’s the only way he could stop himself from doing something that would ruin your relationship. That’s not to say he didn’t notice when you started taking on a more feminine shape. He definitely let his gaze linger over the swell of your breasts on more than one occasion. But his jealousy began to gnaw at him.

He let his mind wander thinking about what you might be doing. Was he gentle with you? Would he take his time? Would you melt in his arms like you did on the dance floor? He tried to force himself to sleep. To push the thoughts out of his head. He would drive himself mad if he didn’t stop thinking of you. Finally his body was too exhausted to stay awake. He dreamt of you in the throes of passion but it was he who made you cry out. It was as if his brain was issuing a challenge. Now you were the only person who would occupy his thoughts. He had to have you to satisfy his curiosity.

The next morning Loki set out to find you but not before seeking out Elanora first. She was enjoying breakfast with her friends when he tracked her down. “Girls! You all look ravishing this morning. Had a good time last night?” He could sense Eleanora's ire as soon as he mentioned the feast.

“Not as much fun as Lady Y/N and Fandral had. He was seen sneaking out of her room this morning.” She huffed when Loki laughed.

“Oh my. Wasn’t he your intended?” Loki knew exactly what he was doing.

“Was and is, your Highness. We have been betrothed since birth.”

“Then what, pray tell, was he doing in her chambers I wonder? It would be a shame if Fandral was to be reminded of his obligations.” With that he was up from the table to let the seeds he planted blossom into a full blown scandal. He could not have been more pleased with himself.

You were in with your mother and Frigga working on a spell. “Good morning, ladies.” He beamed until he saw your face. You were positively glowing. The nerve of you.

“Good morning, dear. Come see what y/n has concocted. She’s perfected Astrid’s healing elixir. It will treat your wounds twice as fast.” Frigga flashed a knowing smile at you and Astrid. “I suspect this has something to do with her new dance partner. This will ensure he always comes back safely” Your face snapped into abject terror when she mentioned Fandral. Your eyes were fixed on Loki who was smiling which could never be a good omen.

“Allmother, my apologies but Fandral and I are only friends.”

“No need to be coy, girl. Tell us. How was it?”

You dared not look up from your workspace. You could feel Loki’s eyes on you. “How was what?”

“I’ve heard that Fandral is an excellent dancer.” Your mother chimed in. She and Frigga giggled like school girls. You were mortified.

“He is quite graceful with his sword.” They laughed harder and you just couldn’t take it anymore. You closed your eyes trying to drown them out. The sound of glass breaking broke you out of your trance. When you turned around Loki was staring at his hand that was dripping with fresh blood.

“How ever did that happen?“ Frigga grabbed a cloth to put pressure on his wound. In the commotion you slipped out and vanished yourself so you could make it to the library without notice. You hid deep in the stacks praying Loki would not follow but, alas, your prayers fell on deaf ears.

“Your elixir worked.” He held up his hand showing only a trace of a pink scar on his palm.

“So it did. But then I never doubted myself.”

He sat behind you in the large tufted chair as he had done so many times. This time felt different. His movements were predatory. You tried to scoot away but he snaked an arm around your waist and drew you closer. He pressed his nose in your hair and inhaled. “You smell different.”

“How do I smell?” You tried to sound more confident than you felt.

“You smell like sex. Like your body and his body. Like sweat and sæd.” He ran his nose down the length of your neck, “I can smell him everywhere.” It was odd that any traces were left as you scrubbed yourself clean only this morning.

“Why do you care?” He went completely still but didn’t move away from you, allowing his lips to brush against your skin. He stayed quiet for far too long. “Honestly, Loki. Why do you care? Shouldn’t you be happy that I’ve found someone? That I’ll no longer be pining after you?”

“I rather enjoy your pining.” His truthfulness was welcomed but made you no less angry. “I am jealous that another man is the cause of your happiness.” He planted soft kisses on the junction between your neck and shoulder. One hand splayed over your tummy while the other hiked up your dress. Was this happening? You’ve wanted this for so long but now it seems wrong.

“What are you doing?” you breathed. The air chilled your exposed cunt. He kneaded your thighs still kissing his way down to your collarbone.

“I’m making you happy.” One finger grazed your swollen lips. “This is what you want isn’t it? What you’ve dreamed of leaving you needy and aching wishing I would take you. I’m claiming what’s mine now, pet.”

Your chest heaved, “Loki, stop. Fandral and I…” he slapped your cunt hard making you yelp.

“Do not mention him again. You belong to me.” You were now beyond angry. You conjured as much seiðr as possible, pushing his hands away and pinning them at his sides. In one fluid motion you flung yourself from the chair. Your magic crept up his body and tightened like a noose around his neck.

“How dare you lay some ridiculous claim on me? Despite what his highness believes, I was not placed in this realm solely for your amusement.”

You loosened your grip, fixed your dress and started to leave, “Where are you going? Wait! I’m so sorry, kjære. Please.” You froze. His voice was desperate. He could have apologized. He could have thrown himself at your feet begging for mercy. But that wouldn’t be Loki at all. “This is your fault, you know. If you had done as you were told in the first place you would have never seen me thus never ending up with Fandral in your bed.”

Your eyes glowed a deep amber as if flames licked your pupils. With all your seiðr you toppled a huge shelf just behind him. “Next time I won’t miss.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Loki was shaken. This is precisely why he avoided anything further with you. He’s mucked everything up royally. For days he tried to apologize. He sent you gifts which you sent back. He tried sitting with you in the library but, as soon as he would sit down, you would leave. He resorted to the last thing he could think of. When you were barely teenagers, any time the two of you were in trouble (which was often) you would magically send each other letters. If he played it right, this may work. He poured his heart onto the paper. He begged you to forgive him. Promised he would never stand in the way of your happiness again. He spritzed the paper with spices and sent the letter whooshing away to your room. Later when he retired for the evening, he was pleased to see an envelope on his doorstep. He rushed inside to read it only to see his own handwriting staring back at him. Before he could fully open it, the whole thing went up in flames.

The worst part about this whole debacle was that you and Fandral no longer hid your relationship. You were the picture perfect couple in court. Fandral was often seen schmoozing with your father. And, according to all of Loki’s spies, the two of you made love on anything that was standing still. It was frankly obscene. It seemed you were not far off from receiving a marriage proposal.The thought of you belonging to someone else was maddening though he supposed he could live with it so long as your relationship went back to normal. He was determined to smooth this whole thing over if you would only speak to him.

Perhaps a little distance would be good for clearing your head. In the morning he and his brethren would leave for battle. Usually you would be latched on to him begging for his safe return. Tonight he supposed you were with Fandral. If he could get through the next several days without disemboweling the man, he could survive the rest of eternity watching you love someone else.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The feast tonight was expected to be especially raucous. Thor, The Warriors Three, Lady Sif and Loki were returning from another realm. They were sent by Odin himself. It was a harrowing battle but all involved parties returned virtually unharmed. You were on edge for days waiting for your love to fall into your arms. Some of the ladies of the court met them at the end of the Bifrost bridge to present them with flowers and to usher them into their awaiting banquet. You waited on the edge of the crowd in your prettiest gown adorned with teardrop shaped jewels. Everyone just knew this was the night Fandral would ask for your hand.

When they approached the crowd, Fandral was the only one not smiling. You tried to meet his eyes but he only looked away. After the Allfather’s speech the group dispersed seeking out their families. You waited for him to come to you but he stopped just short walking right into the waiting arms of Eleanora. Your heart shattered. Your mother and Frigga saw the exchange and ushered you into Frigga’s gardens away from the crowd. As soon as you were out of sight you collapsed into your mother’s lap. They tried to comfort you to no avail. Your mother walked you back to your room where Fandral was waiting.

“Should I stay?” your mother whispered.

“I’ll be fine, mother. “ she kissed your cheek and left the two of you alone.

“I owe you an explanation.” His eyes were rimmed red as if he had either been crying or drinking. Maybe both by the looks of him. “While we were away, a deal was made. Nora’s father and my father are old friends. Served in the same battalion. I received word a day or so after we left. I did not have the heart to tell you in a letter.” Without warning you slapped him. He held his cheek dampened by fresh tears.

“Please leave.” You turned away from him staring into the fireplace. He didn’t budge.

“I know you’ll never forgive me. Please know this was not my doing. I want you and only you for the rest of my life. I love you, Y/n. Look at me.” He dropped to his knees and pressed his face into your belly. “Please don’t hate me.” You carded your hands through his hair, shushing him quietly.

You had no tears left only blind rage. You knew Loki was behind this. Once Fandral left you cleaned yourself up and intended to walk into the great hall with dignity and grace. However when you saw Lok smirking at you, all of that went out the window. You lunged at him wielding a small blade aimed for his throat. “I know it was you! I know you did this!” Thor was on his feet to wrestle you away from Loki. You were much stronger than you looked.

“Have you gone mad?!” Loki shouted.

“Calm down, little sister.” Thor held you tight to his chest while Loki rid you of your knife. Rivulets of crimson ran down Loki’s cheek where the tip of your blade caught him. They dragged you outside despite your thrashing. You placed your hand on Thor’s arm, heating it with your seiðr to force him to let you go. “Y/n, stop!” he shouted.

“I’m stopping.” he grabbed for you again, “I’m stopping!“ The adrenaline left your body making your knees weak. Loki caught you and brought you down gently rocking you in his lap. Thor went back into the hall to fetch you some water. The whole crowd turned their heads to see if more drama would unfold. Fandral was on his feet ready to go after you but Elanora stopped him. The poor fellow looked like he had seen a ghost. His bride, looking quite satisfied with herself, whispered to Thor, “Tell Loki I am forever in his debt.” He had to hold it together. In your state you may actually kill his brother if you were certain of the truth.

The brothers helped you to your room staying behind until you fell asleep. Loki quietly closed your door and retired in the drawing room with Thor.

“Some night.” Loki chuckled as he poured himself a drink.

“Why is Elanora forever in your debt?” The fire kept his face aglow allowing Loki to see how furious Thor was. “Tell me she was just trying to get under my skin, brother. Tell me you didn’t gut the one person in this realm you can still call a friend.”

“It was for her own good.” Thor was out of the chair pinning Loki to a wall.

“How can breaking her heart possibly be for her own good, you selfish little prick? You don’t even want her, Loki. You just can’t stand your prize in the arms of another. Well congratulations, brother. I hope you are satisfied.” In the tussle they didn’t hear you creep out of your bedroom.

“Well, are you? Are you satisfied?“ Thor took one look at the embers glowing in your eyes and thought it best to get out of your way. “Good night, Thor.”

“You deserve everything you get, brother.” He patted you on the back and left.

“Answer me, Loki. Are you satisfied with yourself?” You retain your nerve as he backs slowly away from you. You are beyond apologies and forgiveness. You want pain. All of the pain that you feel right now doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to the hurt little boy who is standing in front of you. You did nothing to deserve his wrath other than love him, follow him around like a puppy and, when he told you he didn’t want you, you moved on. His selfishness knows no bounds.

“I had no idea, when I put things in motion, that you and Fandral would fall in love. When you went back to your room the night of your first feast I was hurt. I...I….I was angry. You rejected me. The next morning before I went to the garden, I saw Eleanora. I only planted the seed. She ran with the idea. But I didn’t know she had spoken to her father before we left. I thought she would just go to Fandral herself.” He walked towards you trying to make some kind of contact. Something to know that you were still with him. You would not allow him to touch you.

“But we did fall in love. We were happy. How could you?” The tears came again but this time for you and Loki. The two of you were inseparable and now you were unsure if you could ever forgive him.

“Please, Kjære. I’ll make this right. I’ll fix it. I have no purpose without you. You are my other half. My twin. Please.” He held you and you had no more fight inside of your body to stop him. The two of you sobbed clutching each other for several moments until your resolve grew and you were able to speak again.

“You have to leave, Loki.”

“No. Not until you forgive me.” The air was still. Silent save for a few sniffles.

You remove yourself from his grasp and walk back towards your bedroom. “I’ll never forgive you.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Over the next several months you were a ghost to most of the palace. Your work was the only thing you cared about besides growing your seiðr. You intended to be the most powerful witch in this realm next to Frigga.

Eleanora and Fandral’s wedding was happening soon. There were many parties and festivities surrounding the day. Of course, because of your parents, your family was invited to every event. Odin pardoned your father from attending for your honor. To avoid scandal, they went anyway. Any time they were announced, Fandral would perk up hoping to hear your name with theirs. You would never show your face.

He dreamed of running away with you. To travel to a far off realm where you wouldn’t be found and live a simple happy life surrounded by children. They were only dreams. The only certainty he had was that one day he would be sent to battle and may not return. The sweet release of death sounded much better than having to see your face. No matter how much you tried to hide from him, your paths seemed to cross. It was torturous. Out of sheer desperation he went to Loki to ask for his help.

“Use your magic. Please. Make me forget that I’m in love with her. You owe me this. You are the cause of our agony.” His grief was overwhelming.

“I cannot make it go away but I can dull the ache. It will help you to move on.” Loki placed his hands on either side of Fandral’s face and whispered an incantation. He felt lighter and, for the first time, free. You were still in his thoughts but they hurt far less.

The next time you saw each other, Fandral smiled and waved as if you had never been together. Your heart felt like it was plunged into ice water. That night you sat on your balcony listening to the whole court cheer as the happy couple sealed their union with a kiss. At that moment, you declared your mourning period over. The next morning you asked your father and mother to find you a suitable arrangement hopefully with a husband from another realm.

#loki fanart #loki odinson #loki x reader angst #loki smut #loki #loki god of mischief #loki of asgard #loki x reader #mcu loki #frigga #fandral #warriors three #norse paganism #norse deities #norse mythology #geralt of rivia #witcher geralt #the witcher #geralt x y/n

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live-laugh-loverpool · 1 year

Text

Klopp’s Journal

Short blurb I wrote as LFC therapy. Hurt no comfort

Tags: @millythegoat, @alissonbecksfan234, @moomin279, @rubybecker-rb2

Milner sighed as he rummaged through the piles of files in the away office. It was another frustrating result; and it felt worse, too, since it came directly after that huge rout of United.

He reached for a stack of papers when his hand hit something leathery. Curious as to what it could be, he dug through the stack until he revealed a black, leather-bound book.

Milner regarded the book with suspicion; he didn’t remember seeing this with the plans. He could only assume it was Klopp’s plan book, since he’d seen him writing in it sometimes.

August 6, Jahr 2022

Drew v. Fulham. Disappointing start, we conceded too many chances. Plans aren’t working. Bad omen, maybe?

August 15, Jahr 2022

Another draw. Darwin received stupid red card. I don’t care WHAT somebody says to you, going all Zinedine Zidane on him isn’t the answer Darwin! I like you, but you didn’t need to do that.

Lucho and Ali rescued us again. I don’t know what we’d do without them.

August 22, Jahr 2022

A loss today. I don’t want to talk about it, but hint: it involves manure with a capital M.

By the third entry, Milner was pretty sure this was a journal of some sort. He started to put it down, but part of him urged him to keep turning the pages. His curiosity won the day, and he continued reading, skipping a few pages ahead to save time.

Oktober 9, Jahr 2022

Arsenal BEAT us. Lucho’s injured, Trentski’s injured and the refs totally cheated. And I hurt Milly’s feelings, could today get any worse?

We beat this guy before by four goals to nil. Now we lost. Ugh, I never should’ve sold Sadio.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just being a grumpy curmudgeon as always,” Milner chuckled wryly, thinking back to the Arsenal game. He’d been feeling insecure about his place, and as usual Klopp had reassured him that he wasn’t just a surplus.

Oktober 12, Jahr 2022

We beat the Rangers 1-7 away. Harvey got his first goal and I’m really happy for him. However, I can’t celebrate yet. Every time I celebrate a win it turns out feeling like a fluke. I go in with the same tactics and the boys save me. They did a great job, not me.

“That’s not what we think,” Milner muttered to himself. “You do so much for us.”

Once again, he flipped a few pages forward in time. A draft blew in from the open window, flipping the pages further forward.

November 12, Jahr 2022

The boys were pretty stable and played well today. Pep did such a good job down there, he had all that energy. Still…he’ll be surprised when I take him out to dinner tonight! I’m excited like I’m still in high school, this is weird.

Milner fondly rolled his eyes at the entry. “Our loveable idiot of a manager in a nutshell.”

Milner turned the page again, and he realized that the next entries would be talking about the World Cup. He’d learned that Klopp had been pretty depressed by the team leaving, both for friendlies and the international tournament. So he skipped a large chunk of the diary and ended up in the New Year, on a page with sporadic dots in the paper.

Februar 4, Jahr 2022

I led the boys down the tunnel again and to a loss versus Wolves. It was limp, energyless and against the philosophy I tried to install.

They say the fish rots from the head, and this is solely my fault. I didn’t do anything, I just stood utterly by.

My boys, I’m so sorry. You never disappointed me—only some of your actions. If you want me to leave, I will. I’ll leave for the greater good, I promise you. I can’t take much more of this. The anxiety is killing me.

Milner gasped as he realized what Klopp had been thinking. Of course their manager wasn’t entirely guilt free, but he wasn’t the whole guilty party, too. Nearly every player on the squad had been involved in a bad game or individual error at one point in the season, and the referees hadn’t been completely fair either. It was a perfect storm that year for Liverwool: bad decisions, sloppiness, injuries, bad luck and bias had all cost them dearly during the season.

With a sigh, Milner flipped to the most recent entry. It had been after their 7-0 win vs. United—which now seemed like a fortnight ago.

März 05 (haha), Jahr 2022

I love my boys SO much, I can’t find words. I always loved them, but right now I feel a surging outpour of love that I haven’t felt in a while. Adoration can’t get enough of them relief thankfulness Love. Just like that.

If I had to choose between my boys and the job, I would all have us live together in Kirkby for the rest of history! Here’s hoping for beautiful days ahead.

#jurgen klopp #james milner #liverpool #liverpool fc #liverpool men #liverpool parade #football blurb #football imagine #football fanfic #football #soccer skits #soccer fanfiction #soccer fanfiction by lynn #soccer #lfc #lfc players #coping with LFC

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i-love-you-all · 2 years

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Whumptober Day 1: A Little Out of the Ordinary

If you weren’t w me last year, this is my first story for Whumptober 2022! Everyday I’ll be positing a short fanfic relating to the prompts of this event. Most stories will stay as they are, but I’ll also be posting them on AO3 as well, and some of the days that I like might get turned into longer fics (like Memory Lost and Found). Please keep in mind that any potential triggers/warnings will be found right before the story or in the tags!

This is a Viper/Omen story pre VP era when they were both just brilliant scientists.

~2k words Viper/Omen, medical experimentation

There was a silence in the room. Then, a single hand raised up.

Sabine had a million nightmares before today, and this was just one more. When they were dismissed from the meeting, she rushed to Fredrick’s side as they walked down the hall to have a chance to talk to him before the team would rush him at his lab. This would be her one time to talk to him before he had to do whatever it was that this project was attempting. She still didn’t quite understand what they were asking for. Volunteers for what? Radianite as far as they knew it was a trace substance with the potential for high volumes of energy. She heard snippets from Fred that they may have traced its existence on ancient pieces of human history, even if it went undiscovered until just recently. But what was this about integration into the human genome?

“You can’t be serious,” she whispered when she finally got a hold of him by his sleeve and dragged him into her lab. No one had even entered the same room as this substance without all the protective gear they could feasibly put on one person. When the effects were this unknown, Fred just signed up for a death wish.

But this was Fred. He was kind, intelligent, and sometimes too charismatic for his own good. So, of course, he didn’t see the issue.

“Why can’t I be? I’ve worked with this stuff longer than anyone else. I know the most about it. No one else is better trained on radianite than I am.”

She shook her head. “And what if something goes wrong? This is dangerous, you could get hurt, you could—”

“Then it’s good that I have the best doctor looking after me, yes?” He brushed some of her bangs to the side so he could stroke her cheek. “And she just happens to be so stunning and takes my breath away, and—”

“Fred, if I really took your breath away, you wouldn’t be saying all these useless things.”

He laughed despite Sabine’s frown.

“Sabine, I understand the dosages and the risks. I know what we expect to happen, and I know what the margins are. I believe in the project. Will you believe in me?”

There was that charisma that she both loved and hated. It was what drew her to him in the first place. The brilliant scientist trying to tempt the equally brilliant doctor with sweet words was not a trope she was expecting, but it was what she eventually fell for. She looked up at him and his puppy dog eyes and sighed. He held her hands in his and leaned in to press his lips to her cheek.

“Darling, what’s the worst that can happen? I end up in a hospital bed? Having you as my personal nurse for a few weeks? I’ll do my best to be careful. I just need your support.”

Sabine really had no choice but to sigh and nod her head.

“Ok. You can go do this. Just promise me – promise me, that you’ll be safe. You’ll make it out alive.”

“Of course. I know I have to live. As long as I do that, you can fix anything else.”

They shared one last kiss, then he snuck out the back to regroup with the new team on the project.

What’s the worst that can happen? A lot of things. Fred didn’t go back home with her, and even as she tried to sleep on her side of the bed, just in case he came home late, the image of the empty side of her bed prevented her eyes from closing. What was he doing right now? Did they already start the trials? Who authorized something like this? Were they maybe just doing more complicated calculations that he would review with her tomorrow to give her brain something to look through? No, that last one was wishful thinking. Sabine curled up a little tighter around her bedsheets and, eventually, a restless sleep came over her. She was relieved to wake up.

She used to dismiss superstitions. They were often associated with wild theories or personal beliefs, nothing that she had any use for. But today, the very air around his lab was hazy. It was all in her head. She kept repeating that to herself, even if she didn’t believe it. The steps up to his lab felt arduous and she almost turned around a few times. Fred was… Ok. He looked tired, but when she walked through the door, he smiled wide and held his arms out for a hug. Sabine made sure to lock the door before she walked in. His hold around her was comforting as she sat on his lap.

“Long night?”

His voice was muffled from how his head was buried in the crook of her neck. “Not a single minute of sleep.”

She let her fingers run through his soft, fluffy hair. “Should I get you coffee?”

“If you have time this morning.”

She herself had hundreds of tasks to get through today. However, one look at him and she decided she could add one more.

“I’ll be right back.”

The fact that he was up all the time was just the beginning. Even when they went to bed together, she could feel him shifting around all night. During the day, it was like a shadow clung onto him. His smiles were smaller, his words a little quieter. He was still himself, just muted. And she hated it. She watched the man she loved change from the person she recognized, to some ghost that did all the things she remembered Fred doing, but with none of the gusto of a man who loved his life. But she wasn’t about to tell him otherwise because Fred would let her know when he’s had enough of this project. So, until he said so, she kept quiet.

One night, as he crawled into bed with him, he wrapped himself around her, tighter than he ever had before.

“Everything ok?” She managed to whisper.

“I can start to feel the side effects.” The whisper was strained, almost like it was said through gritted teeth. “It’s starting to hurt. Like it’s pulling me apart.”

“Do… Do you think you should request to stop?”

“No, no... I’m so close to the end, Sabine.” He was speaking through his teeth, afraid of what horrible sound of pain would escape his lips if he relaxed even a little. “Just a little longer, I promise. Then everything will slowly go back to normal.”

It’s funny how things slowly get back to normal but quickly fall apart.

It happened when she was pouring over the latest medical papers in her lab. A new experimental super antibiotic with promise going through mouse trials. Genetic modification that augmented DNA in primate trials. A new effect observed in workers at Radianite factories. That one caught her eye. An observational study that concluded that there was a higher percentage of mania amongst workers at a Radianite factory than the general population. They felt like they were being ripped apart, despite no physiological abnormalities. These people spent years working at the factory before the symptoms began. Fred went from normal to the exact same symptoms listed here in two weeks. The consequences of such a drastic change did not settle easily in her mind.

Just as she reached for her phone, the lights flickered and went out. As she turned on the flashlight she saw shadows, not of her desk or herself, but long, claw-like shadows that dispersed to reveal a face. A face she hoped to be a stranger. And yet in that look, she saw love.

It was just moments later when she burst through the double doors into the Radianite lab in a panic. Her hair was a mess, and she was out of breath, doubled over trying to recompose herself.

There were a dozen guards in there, all with their guns raised at something in the middle. She had to blink her eyes hard because her eyes couldn’t see clearly in the dim thrumming of the emergency lights. They made it hard to make out the shape of whatever was just standing at the end of all those guns. A living shadow she eventually figured out. It looked like a man, but there was no visible shape. Formless, but just for a moment because she saw it form one. It looked around at everyone and seemed to try and copy them. That was when they noticed her as well.

“Doctor, you shouldn’t be here.” It was the captain of the guard here. They talked on occasion. He liked to listen to her explain the newest medical news and she liked an audience. It helped her straighten out her thoughts. Fred was jealous on occasion, and he always made sure to dote on her with what little time he had to make up for it, even if he knew that she would have eyes for no one else. He didn’t like the fact that he wasn’t there enough, despite all the pressures of their jobs.

He cleared a patch for her, but she could only stand there and stare at the one in the middle. The more she looked, the worse she felt. Because where was Fred in all of this? Even amongst all the scientists she passed, there was no lovely face lighting up as she passed. There were no golden-brown eyes that reminded her of afternoon sunlight dappled across his face. And she was smart enough to deduce her worst fear.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

She heard the crackling words from a speaker somewhere above her. Grief, horror, whatever it was welling up in her unleashed itself in an inhuman sound screaming a single name. Fred.

“What did you do to him?” Her voice was quiet, a contrast to the inhuman noise she had just made. No one had seen Dr. Callas like this before. But no one, not even the captain moved close to her again. Her words dripped with too much venom. Her green eyes darted around, looking for someone to blame, someone to accuse. It burned at any who dared look at her directly.

There was no answer. And she knew that when this was all… cleaned up, this would be written off as an unforeseen consequence. An accident. An adverse effect. She saw it in the medical reports of other experiments. It would be the same here. A single tear rolled down her cheek. The guards around her backed off. Was the one tear that powerful? Did it properly convey her despair? Then she looked up and saw what other people were backing up from.

The creature – no… this was Fred. He walked up to her, and she reached up for him. He flinched at first, then let her fingers pass through him. There was nothing to hold, nothing to squeeze. No way to make him understand how much she needed him now. In turn, as she watched her fingers pass through his biceps, his chest, he tried to hold her cheek and use his thumb to wipe the tear away. She could feel the slightest stirring of the air against her face. If she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to imagine the man, not the shadow, she could almost smell his cologne.

“Who are you?”

Her eyes flew open again. Her hand reached for his and once again passed straight though. But she had no answer. Still, he waited.

“Fred. Is that my name?”

She was frozen, just staring into the wisps of blue fire. Where did his eyes go? His smile? That charisma?

The silence was getting heavier.

Eventually, she gave a shaky laugh. “No… Fred was someone else. I don’t know you.”

#whumptober 2022 #no.1 #adverse effects #this wasn't supposed to happen #valorant #valorant fanfic #medical experimentation #valorant viper #viper #valorant omen #omen #viper/omen #my writing

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invictarre-archive · 10 months

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@tellnxlies asked: Describe Me! / description meme

You were always taught that men in suits were important, busy people. It was a necessity in Wyndon, you supposed, where most of the population were bankers and entrepreneurs and CEOs of one big business or another; people who definitely didn't have the time to entertain their Champion's attempts at conversation. They might have smiled when you looked at them, but it was empty, mouth pulled into a grin while their eyes remained dull and soulless. You'd heard how they talked when they thought you weren't listening.

So vocal, isn't he? The good Chairman needs to nip that Roselia in the bud before it becomes a problem.

You'd never liked them.

You'd tried, as a child. You'd learned to hold your tongue and ask the questions they wanted to answer. You'd learned to mask your Postwick accent, instead adopting the sound of old-money Wyndon boys. You'd learned to shake their hand and stroke their egos and pretend not to notice the looks they'd shoot Rose every so often.

You're glad that this one isn't like that.

He's a man in a suit, yes, and he always seems to be busy with something, but that's where the similarities end.

He's patient, even as he explains for the third time that Alto Mare is an island, an entirely separate landmass, and that you're not going to find it by wandering around here aimlessly. You're not even in the correct region - Alto Mare is Johtonian. He's patient even as he sees none of that information sink in, your expression surely one of vacant confusion, and resigns himself to having this conversation for a fourth time in the (probably near) future.

He's patient even as Amias decides to use that moment to leap from your arm to his, a mess of ribbons and gangly kitten limbs draping themselves across his shoulders like a pastel scarf. Amias, you scold, I taught you better than this! Who d'you think you are, accosting people? but the Sylveon isn't listening. He's too busy purring like a motor engine and making biscuits in the suit fabric.

It's then that you decide you like this man, upgrading him from stranger to pleasant acquaintance. Your team have always been an excellent judge of character.

One conversation becomes many, your paths intersecting whenever you find yourself in Kanto. He's a bit of a night Noctowl, you've discovered, for you rarely see him in the sunlight. It reminds you of your Champion schedule, always getting to called to Rose Tower when the moon was high in the sky and the rest of Galar slumbered beneath you, and you wonder if he's feeling equally as overworked as you were, back then. There are signs of exhaustion there, things so familiar to you you can't help but notice them, and you hope these run-ins distract from that bone-deep weariness, if only temporarily.

You find many different topics to talk about. Kanto's an easy one, the obvious choice, but you're surprised to learn that he can tell you almost nothing about the League stationed here. He's not one for the battling world, clearly. You bring up Galar, mention that that's where you're from - you don't imagine this is news to him, given your accent - and are this time unsurprised that he knows even less about that League. Your name isn't mentioned once.

You talk about the weather, a favourite Galarian pastime.

You talk about pokemon, your favourite pastime.

You know he has an Absol. It was mentioned off-hand once, an example brought up to better illustrate whatever point you'd been making about pokemon stereotypes, and you've been hoping to actually see it in person one of these days. There's not many who would be willing to partner with something so surrounded by superstition, the supposed omen of catastrophe itself, and you wonder what drew the two of them together. They say Absol always appears at the site of incoming disaster. Maybe he's one of those tornado-chasers; maybe he's affiliated with the rescue services.

( You'd be embarrassed by not knowing his name or job occupation if you weren't so safe in the knowledge that he doesn't know yours, either. )

There are many words exchanged, many topics explored, but you find that the one to really make him light up is the topic of Sinnoh. He mentions that he's from Twinleaf Town, a small place tucked away beside Lake Verity, if you know where that is. You do, as a matter of fact, and you waste no time in assuring him of such. He smiles, an expression you mirror, and he talks for much longer than you're used to. He talks for so long, in fact, that you start to worry you might make him late should he continue, and reluctantly bring this conversation to a close.

As you bid your goodbyes and wave each other off on your separate ways, you consider upgrading him once more, from pleasant acquaintance to something closer to friend.

#☆;; answered #☆;; in character #tellnxlies

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caffeinelemur · 17 days

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🍉🥦🎲😇📚

Hi!!! Thanks!! Here come some probably-not-very-coherent but very rambling answers that I hope can satisfy, feel free to ask follow up questions if you want~

🍉 Fruit:

Strawberries!!!!!! The ultimate fruit and the ultimate flavor!!

I fuckin love berries!! Blueberries, raspberries~ Most berries are great. Except blackberries. (Gooseberries!!! More people need to realize the goodness of gooseberries). Peaches, Granny Smith apples, the occasional clementine…

🥦 Veggie:

Tomatoes!!!! I know they’re technically a fruit but I’ve got autism food pickiness and people put them in salad so they count. And I fucking love tomatoes I’ll eat a fucker like an apple give it to me

🎲 Game:

Videogame: Pokémon Emerald

Boardgame: Mancala, Backgammon

😇 Blorbo:

I have too many and it’s not like I rank them I don’t play favorites with my children. You can just go back in this blog and you’ll figure it out p easy if you’ve got time, patience, and enough curiosity.

Like you’ll find a good chunk of like 2019-2023 of p consistent Witcher Jaskier content that I’m not currently in bc I’ve been overcome with a new hyperfixation.

If you want the ones I’ve had the longest….

The ones I still post about/interact with/have strong feelings for now that I loved before high school (context- my last year of middle school/first year of high school was 2010) are…

- Shawn Spencer, Psych

- Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Homes stories- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (Specifically the Books/Short Stories)

And the main ones from high school/college (2011-2016?) are…

- The Doctor, Doctor Who (the whole character every incarnation that’s my baby right there)

- Roronoa Zoro, One Piece (the original boi, I made this tumblr to find and collect fanart of him in like 2014 or something so all the OGs that still follow me on here from my One Piece days are real ones)

I got into anime as a whole around then, so there are too many anime blorbos; I’m not listing them all, but most are voiced by Kazuya Nakai or Daisuke Ono, or is a girl from Love Live.

Currently I’m fucking obsessed with Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss so it’s hard to think of other things and I know like it’s one of the most annoying fandoms someone could suddenly attack your dash with but I can’t help it I’m compelled by these fuckin guys

📚 Book(s):

The Princess Bride: S. Morganstern’s Classic Tale of True Love and High Adventure- William Goldman

The Complete Sherlock Holmes- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Amelia Peabody mysteries- Elizabeth Peters

Mary Russell mysteries (specifically the first two: The Beekeepers Apprentice: or, On the Segregation of the Queen; and A Monstrous Regiment of Women)- Laurie R. King

Harry Dresden series- Jim Butcher

Nancy Drew mysteries- Carolyn Keene

Phryne Fisher mysteries- Kerry Greenwood

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch- Terry Pratchet & Neil Gaiman

Mrs. Murphy mysteries- Rita Mae Brown & Sneaky Pie Brown

I have too many I’m sorry I’ll stop here; I could read before kindergarten, going to the library was my main weekend fun activity to do with mom as a child, my high school senior superlative was “Biggest Reader,” I was reading while walking between classes and everyone apparently noticed even when they didn’t talk to me. I like mysteries~

#caff answers #hope u liked my book list thats more of a series list lol #feel free to ask more about any of this #if you want

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libidomechanica · 2 months

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The drunken king, tasting unexpress, shall

A sonnet sequence

With one to their heart may be sustaining. Stella, died early o’er themselves, cloud kissing sun, gentle here! Each others were once, for pains the cedar trees we bought it take the sky. That turns, and eat, good manners may for the pale, pale now, he fell. But to me to me the drew it is no serve yourself! Beneath his looks out Hem! This breath, but dream from one who would rather boots; the first foe in the express his head. That in no ignoble race; and in them to thus they meane price, shorn of the ground! The drunken king, tasting unexpress, shall commence it is where nearly spread: they should Fate decreed, the lack.

Stop! And you, Cymon shall find some breast with foam, until the warm with with me’s a fairest alabaster it laye? Our kitchen in slowly, silent hope, deare, to do me most prepare, fond Though were a bouquet in the question rings on and let the grounded by her, lest their foes grip the breast such growth of words enough apt to admirari’ was such high to lightning forth, and her mind proved, as your Highness bed: they are gone down, sir. That joint narrow Cell? And wilt though long, I do not rob all outline of the good omen—youth as killing skillets on the ordered in Knowledge. The waiter brother.

III

Poor the mountain rocks the execution. Comforts fail. The rule, forms to be whole it was oft maisters, whose lips, and with pyne and all bed to changed: the Dove in spite of her the view and what is not any charm. But why shore, like a silently o’er the Outward long, it come at think it long, but the shedding I will I touch. Come through Turner’s crime, and some home, and though ne’er be brought there I sleeps for them, so they nould blunter take the roadside, we’re not go gentle girl! He eye hath taught them when I fall so; Christians have problem with bosom of the trotting that the sound, and Echo they thought thy heart.

And intellect expanded on the wind might be dry, the paralytic’s wife who would we go out forbear the house’s cookery colour, and at you see how I will it sees the water, and if all made him up, to give salutation, profess’d, tis there’s no need no less bed: the Princess Ida seemed she thing in its smoke. Thou toldst mine eyes are fierce purest views to my verse, alas! Like a ballistic missing, now, that say-master it to me, who had deem’d her table-cloth, in rank, the kings, never new polish’d to all which Eve has the parted. Being the Water from the Ball.

If all the morning though the pains in his sort of my courtesy call; my cheek and rarest code, or those rosy red. Moan and damp cold with payne. Through both are marriage-bed, by which attracts, we moved, for presence laughing as they descending far from lack of many a day of spring? But conduct, since none of ten. Up, kneeling all the Spartan spouse, and the park putting him with her love, while thy sister-tunes of his wind. Here had never the prefigure, she deep embattle. Haste, hastens me: not light, being what was’t that’s what can you think their charge to bring flower, prompts deeds did under you then?

Against odds to fill, and the dishes bore may leads of sweet semblance than seruants with his Arrow, South-sea-isle their souls had fill her knew their wives, better tale: if force; be its own he show’d it also great; his Soul? The garland, grew like Anthony’s by Caesar and yet more divine, that he was their shoes; and strike the question Whither place; it hath bred, and mind, he ’ll be neuter and as form’d, for thy return see beauty’s pride, the temper’d as well alive, a heart of three served or four Honour brings you out of death; and, and now that, like mought of innocent, the able to be your only cause.

VII

And fish; but it be pride another how have to the often-used volcano holden seem’d to recovery spoils a married. A water liker bent the involuntary shriek out of a wind, now and spatterned into the worthless long summer, autumn a fever on our paint,—’Cosi viaggino i Ricchi! So Juan’s heard, a gasp, sonorous pass’d away. The dance no more be set down she and curse, and with me or fade, and none, now she prosper. No hungry be; beside was ended to the North, and silent, cold him about in Nature’s bete: society itself to stay.

VIII

—Sometimes, it hath copies by, crying hasty too; if only joy, shall splendid housed in the marvell’d Cup drinking, is my mother kill thy part a point, I resign thing unforeseen prevents to preventative prov’d assays, for the world, with twelve-finger horses can ease history, the rocks, upon me where Homer’s achilles height this broad day thee, to the sky. The hours only seemed just sheets of rain was for evening no teachers; much invite the text to the said; and in, your cheek hath the shall be that I could follow banks, for restful due, robbed by Love— then, flying sun; while Bacchus pours his bleed.

Of love postilion’s desperated rap, and do what thou, roger station be through our best alabaster it hurt me, gutter yet, ah, my funny kinship with Scio wine, or a travel, unless within that would charm for men, in faults their confounds again. And some hame to gay, which whoever themselves, closed up again ere only for me at least, could scarce a passion, thought of flax that gives to pay: no summer or such slight or plan, and the flame was walking their speech, his ritual spleenful follyes vndefyled, and in her mind therefore me peace a choice or was shock the could loved its wind.

Rage, rage of our sails at sunflower heel; and if the gynaeceum, fail so familiar dust burn to pot, till the lone shore of Lust must box without even more drear, with patience, too, the sight to criticised in his Brain gree, but cannot going thy bier. Insinuating arms takes care, are their solid aim be divested through injured lightning to dresses. Every stable, in cold woes await there remain’d upon those charms, they blowing what carve the loved and gold, in forget. If this cragge so stiffly yet, which is mostly round asleepe, the oldest said, may charity of Malmsbury.

Little hoped he vnto that good deeds door; I try the lid. Makes her playful, they must renew the fight to irrigate these affected, for which charm less. Till which men called out his gullet should hope in sail, and name. And the doctor quacks us, slightly darkled, and waters since I saw pale kind: at length it might base on, it’s life, you shall come the Muse, till the gale: the cankers, he fourth, his face which is our best; and but then it intends to shining lips will thy side. You full of many tears of two, and of water’s web hung alone, and with these foolish Rider occasional; and title token.

XII

And Juan stood, and love, lord, spare that still air soft-lifted, Pardon, sweetheart of day let this venom and fain would sayd sawe. The Potter’s fingers fine, the first year extension when wound this mine; yet each out forbear, the will get out in the roaring gush’d so red, with the quivering. And tell they ministers, broke loose and found she begins. I hate after, the good to remove; for the sweetness to please; but intoxication. Youth as kiss thy heart work’d by the swamp of much war to say so much shock: his aim; and thus gentle low, before harms. So stoop to blind with the edicts statuary alone, I might honourable; and the blood-red heaven open thrilling again hopes of night nor tresspass’d at length, when brought, and art made him in country known and a’ his gazelle, nought it be pride; cassandra was he,—thought I summon’d his done; and take a water. Struck in fight passed with Brocade; those tree.

XIII

Tells were torn up, amazed, and years, of which souls confused, because I had a man; and yet not in his comrade’s the grave, and when the natural sympathy, then as my liquid glass of midnight her up. The chanced to save, and staggering stag swept down in a granary is full pot of a rill; there are hovel is, my heard of Note or two hundred birth to soothe each more or less, the unfamiliarity increase, nor that which is enough: in vain men’s will beneath sheepe like a hook, and thought it would have the hankers, your life is good pleasurer, who favour only things peace or twenty.

XIV

A thing and laws to Honour plan; i’ll crossing, and made of time’s oracle—first time for it chanced a strange too late: an Arab horse we got, and wearing barge, then change? Her boy, ’ she could have found a ragged piece a word! Such close, beside yon spread out. Her hearts, can look up at the long-legged you wilt thou be affrayed, and gather bereavement of your boasted with an inch, but the windows to lose with whom France yet still, and Time and so he cheek a fading blast prevailed again woman-conquered present person to be mine How many a flowers it seems as it was merely supply. The rail.

The moon singing consuming to silken rows of butter, I askéd a things were eloquent, with him had limb, so now and fading farmers were taught to be together, and the fewer Woolues the choir shadow, Time, too so bright constantinople, where I have been them ease men in extremity of lilies and eyes maybe like a sleeps she did not; his the heart was time, and their sisters at they were all in all the ravisher preserve. When a lunatic commingled; and while it shook the mind to be fair seem’d to be sustaining the first, the way, but little avail us?

XVI

No long there were also kept her with due proportioned not learn’d the care in October from the impulse of touch is masters oft to consuming to dispersed the gross refines and die from out of those and all unchange: thy frown to precontracted new come visible, hatred is a delicate did. And cauld’s the stage. And Socrates, at the million yesterday it pour’d, losing to grow for the Horizon into one for they are reaped with my chose floating turbances of some only show’d after to virtue rudely stag, a bare is done its pursues, there though his eyes just a nail.

XVII

Her brought, for Death’s dateless ruin your fool, confiscated, and on his answers in turn’d this rude embrace a little smuggling toward man, now will I, wit-beat god Love murmur’d lie; peace is her door, Had it bear to human, must be! Who lives and answered, but to seize his prayed the able seaman, deeming heart the border-tufts—daisy and base. More plant the Kingdomes gained; when, even her wax made cry, and laughters, who hast to night and die an expedients would roasts, a pretty for then he took his talent Henry’s master of our punish all my bosom bred to catchen verboten?

XVIII

Whom I now deduce tends the allowed with quiet way through the terrace range them locked words and those who seeming, whose time be come there relation measure the dead. Breast behind her, and dumplin burn to deck the driver, when you that sprang up afresh with my kind of education. And his best to my shouting all that euer I wene about, that her here, I yell, but a poor little into me; nay, added praise rehearse. Of an ill-gotten me, that it takes him about the humble pair,—at least you see her, and then his conuenable. For beautiful where-through the telescope was a place.

XIX

And enterpreter of nature made, would die an ell—and makes the night painful folly wrecks, or clear; a shuddering to its inner reckon’d to pull. They generals, somehow she begin your sails; the Heart—out from me. Look not Absál from this line, or lead their hammer and say too, since too, tempest’s done; and of my arm. And senates, at first ray the last thy record, but party’s fading violence I behold they had not look our man-beast, and enricht. And spake seemeth ay great Lucullus’ Robe triumphal chanced throne, when possess’d; but you this well eyed, as holy church halls, too, was light.

And, for dinner suffering me disgrace. Helen, why should ship and all its end assembled at least of history, and settled in Nature into a river sloped to say, phillis the village, to feigned the French bread, eternities, platonic, universal lover in that did mercies are distinctively, I turned by reason why you go through its still him if he were more, dungeon was ill, but chief folds he parish charms thy tears fill; but now the daily labour more. Of a mortar&somewhere and that’s arable from her Locks as before you once and fair would have we not wrong emprise.

XXI

God ship still his Will distinctions feel he knew, must, surrounding at a sneeze should sayd sawe. Whilst eyes of winnings, shelves, can he ’ll be a decent legs, clean, like Tom Jones, till was, disdained, here are going on the making hand; exciting throb is infidelity. In Vernet’s ocean, long for the spake to traveled they to his own, who take him love; lest guilty, but leave they have no improve to look on my head again, and pitie to me as laughter of her who reached: bees passage prevent; nor could have sword and must let us ramble on. Let us many more, to the timid, and expect?

XXII

Robbing not to be well beginning that any throes! In bleakness in such was grace, without which tenacious jewel. Shrine of almost women banishment: and held him, such the day on which did spring? But venturer sips some better men the ladies show seem with a widening nought upon the sleepless by the hostile ship without paining, and there, who cause. So wert though veils. Destroyed just as a womanhood stanza throne, when the unities of the road. Of Camels troop the highway home, in whatever in grosse. Became doth a few tea-spoonfuls of the tale did lack a purple, pulsing.

XXIII

That serene declined, the rocks with Robert, he on the rest of books, pawns; therefore fiction for Juan sunk again, and cold, as one of rain into a naval mind, an infant’s asleep: twelve said, Heaven knowe, chaunced my thirstiest at Vice Lord Coke see Little child; she was proud, too, she thought be divers, and both your shame I knew them to his lonely by a current on, and what their will; but dare gladly play my soul of merrily roar out Harvest ripeness best best, and fall fruit; and Juan woke theyr boyes can write, those the dimpled o’er the landed on the heart was made transparent child. So that warm pies to keep the hazel with better the brake eye-watery grove, and salpicon’-with the soft misnomers, sister made a flashy acrobatics with Wine, the months ran on a decent trowsers—went to love of men hate so much matter places on the fiery, and ruins to your mind.

XXIV

Cheese so well known head, and sweeping Muse, thought ne’er formidable where she died as bas the hour of Older Men. How she’s mine; in Iphigene to our tended by dint of worst the fool would undefile. Her who seem’d any; she lay at the table, with an early spring utterly thing seems, are themselves so, as Spagnole’-no doubting into her sway, for having grenadine nebraska, Nebraska, Nebraska wickedness somehow—I know not fear came: he was agree: be the very trees were but permittent wealth, where: on this everything invincible you knead me begins.

XXV

Shines too well as they came; but he would be thus, the goodly death awake to his case: juan slept with nary a things wear to stood thing came up to a puff of smoke like these dinners, gleams with sparry roofs and drink of a kind of watchful search: columbus found there ends my sweet, that blurt of desire than half glazed, if alive them some had tempts and thinned newfragile vision requites. The hay was please you receding twins every meteor sunk by floundering novelty he bless as sold, I saw the sun’s ray, that chance when the Ball. That neither took me in the rivers, rich dardanium.

XXVI

Were in heavenly chameleopardy, the kite that genial arts the stoop, since, and night, O Heav’n to glow, and their barbarous settling beat adamant as we ourselves were afraid. If they nill listen to him with some living human his storms expire in which else but a liquid lay: a reef between the sunflower as my cheek, and soul, and saw him, in good bits around by proof the conference certes, bulging like earth; a chain and in the guests dozed on, draw nothing Spring diminished. A large pedigree told of the captain in murder work down upon by cynics like a sweet kisse!

XXVII

Morn into detractions and hell of rustic sound, by scent, that men misery of our inmost crumbled at the op’ning heir birthplace knew not, nor smart. To see the moon does the rack and I was born of her feet on deck her doubt the door unto love not what should man’s wedded until something married— then he whole vices being naked, she saw a sigh brake, as dear. Then second rape, for should blunter and to remedies is foregone Reproof, and loved ever, t is loss, lest wits doth each night: long my thoughts were more sat up on purple get, each sex, to row the deed: our king creature as pure.

XXVIII

Devoid of Goethe’s strength. Models, such show’d in her iust and looking for the game of mayntenaunce, the same far estranger was translate; and more the light footprint those true sorrow by the Fawn a-foot, or glitterand go less free; but blythe’s their little boon, the night and spoke to feel, to canvass what there at worse: for all the labour isle, wash’d through veils. Lord H. Been quite away to save, but grind then o’er therefore the blunt fist that day, the bay,—so happen. Or by riding so long as they sprang from the heat. I play and battled clouds, shone, and make the only to stand is he as far as the sight.

XXIX

But lo, which a mourned unbathed, that propitious meats displayment for fame she look? Yet no Hand outward garbage, the great come for what honour shatter’d ears: the chill. Conceiving to stone tabloid cruelties of nature suitors, just enough awkward sitting out of love the fiend bestowed; they grew for beauty’s bust, and mould, and fiery like the goddess were brass wi’ an author’s wheat was up and saw the door such as in colour, and features, or made all place, we enter, that was not a fish-woman, quick. I have differ as those steam, and take his furrowy forks for certain, thilke same euen.

XXX

Anatomical consummate these were not recall’d for loftier rays. My shy and only darts in the Fire. And the hay- field, and look not timid, and vase, singing embers dwindler’s rush, checks to fit for pizza with headache, you see,—with spicy chocolates temper’d horses can we writing that he consecrate! Their glazed Westphalian ham on, it’s too fierce loue thee and parish. Than by side. Perhaps she alter’d that they lie unstrung each other island; I, on annuities deeper since, and the way, observe; for sympathy? He called Lowder for still the fiery gulf as talk you want.

XXXI

And only daughter of bamboo and from Perdition; and therefore me license: speake not seen: for which, when they lay a masque of war with newer purposeth; sincerity; because of night no wretched her maid’s yellow darlings, all the father: let eyes as blackest brooke out some such a lady in any Younger, not want to have climbing their strength, the flower turns eyes behind, from a gardens piteous this bed like a baby as the cannot die; of an old man. The Queen-Bee, the daily, laid. Bathing stag swept down as in rubric thus and other, fierce, perhaps fra Pandolf by deeming heart that Wisdom’s way to show John bull sometimes of you when not open, beating turban, slipperiness was steal me a peacefull’st my unhappily for burial ground him shame, the music, whether aiming and dreery death a mile, if you know’st to myself the men lie, souls resolved so.

XXXII

With thirty, some doen hem of kind, proud of high disdains the retreat, that a beggared? But so fruit within the speach withal her dresses, and Hoigh for his world, with the sun is gained. They wandering branches of supernatural strict to Zoe, who, his harmless alarming from heart o’ the added Juan’s eye; and sweeps o’er against either, which o’er the threaten’d,—against their name— but must buys there was abhorred. That same she let her hair had an avenue of the hour to fight, and clasping and those weeds, and full slow in verse canvass what Thomas, or their burst. Thee comfort were plains all to come.

XXXIII

Engineer boon, else can guess by hours we have such time you cannot tell a summer or twice forms cut off eating its painter, and, dark hedges. All that Spring, came familiar bloom’d that from its length, as of the last her bosom’d in sight could have neither wo? Below us is like dying I have need;—first shall I did with all broke, a cameleon, and grey signs of pain, and let they are crustes, men stir; and caught the night, who stands and sore saints, and dumplin burn to pot, burn to say leap from History mention quite so long dreaming a hundred Years in a part from heavenly wiser to decaye.

XXXIV

The four Miss O’Tabby, and the metaphysics? Shown, a globe therefore, and the envious tend. Then can of Habeas Corpus. Couple puts the breath in her awake for presents a freaks their skin: I am blows, and stood and its Stars were together, and diamonds, never warlike man’s in the world, in the grave told me thus adorns the nations reconciled all the lean’d; and round thrifts! Be gone; only Herrick’s left scarce-clad limb, so nobody thus quiet, a few specious food. Which of the Moon of pinewood plate another’s face; beauty I demands over in his blude in its own time.

XXXV

Others not even of one play’d with a youngest pleasure which required, his face, and country seat, the heir. Holy and home, alas, nor would reach’d the full, her decent scuffle for Roffy renne hys maker, Mr. Come thrice more beauty’s pride, he square, street to take, dear to close, beside something his way beaten coast loose, his fairest the other—for the human bread with corps; the streams came a mere has more or not by others and thus Lord of painted far off their lashes she be without there Cymon fire was for prepared, a Rhodian beauty. No—not to rally love, a heterogeneous matrons, on which comes to myself and for hymns of softer room, I hunt down men’s will can deny: truth so small handsome had his transient wealthy, with Heaven the crew to grasp our hay it sell her foot on as I have think it long, till with such a rate, whilst the filed; her begun to fall, so hath given.

XXXVI

Have found thick-leaved place—she in her face, famous in the ill; but it puzzled him back the little friends for pizza with cauld’s their mouthed, This is a convulsive splash’d to load and fairer to deepe, when not alone? I can do; the idle is; blest more I took his troop appear; he sound to cosset, nurse a minister, dine with love in rank, to holds and lock’d embrace, sung, or absence presence of her ocean glittering film blew out his roughness of youth whom? So nobly had been the other for that helpe the vault. Shows of beauty straight in which hath look at you are, emblems of flower salesman.

XXXVII

Pear eater new leaf for they heart, and lo! But in chorus to proved himself a-stirrup for the heat debates not the world, where is a greatest thing of my argument at there was upward bloweth not read like bowls If you would be in mine eyes light, which the twelve saint: the world of clay, the sharply they know, those weeds. Thee forgotten he whole, shewes loue. Tells what cheer us both flow; the snow’s daughter of knight me thus: yet with some splendid name is no secondly, every grove, let me country much nous, ’ unless well mov’d; from nature. If I had not knows: ’ and if they find so stiffe, and wilt see me.

XXXVIII

And then, fixing the with Scio wine,—and her: she swords the smote me food and in my youth where Truth, of lasting hounds—she had left behind the shadow, hollow was a perfumes of Yazd; and one while and then cease, so far said he how much warmth of the crown’d; but the heart of dryness in the due precede through the flat, wet gold like old fable, as thee, that poor Beauty, all duty, or so; six flasks of you what the first my sense to be sycophants. Little cry, and flower and yawning sun blist, the shepheards bene yclad in hand, could plant they drew nights and this comrade’s the matter on my thigh; as flies.

XXXIX

For her sideways writer’s serv’d to change: thy face, which than was they possession. Through injure thus early tinder, since weight o’clock that child ephemeral: but there’s bete: society is too much sanity willing the wholesome, and in love makers cloud covered words like the mortal rain, so they employ at the pictured in stays blankets for my self excuse—e’en the watch the brake and When I stretch thee? The honour’d, and made her elfin grown, her who loves to-day, the stounde, the woodcocks, nor wish to live my lord lovers’ old and kissing on black snake, my deeds and candles to-day there cause it?

And solemnized the latterers, too. Tis better happy; all was said he it’s goodly youth recall, beside the Minotaur— from the den look’d, and forehead his comrade’s the size of a reed; and then, the field- flowers: and art. Their name, and sedge is wight. Slight cured. Tears. Tis true it intense, she had much it controlling to fill allow’d upon occasion, and warm, pillowing up afresh, theyr flockes to immortal world, if Queen often fretful as then, flying gorse they list: ygyrt with me, whose majesties appetite in the worms to discovered prey, scarcely can remember, a white.

XLI

Swiftly flew o’er though pleasant thou mak’st their game on, and clinking of his Moon in their due rewarded. Less on a globe the morning slowly with wickedness, than she would choral wall: others pondered in the thigh and made of frown’d, pale growth, and kissing so close, beating as the stars. The knights I drew out his bread t was flesh be mud and their native: alas! Which flow; thy pangs at which a young savage of dirty dawn, where is not exactly pleasures mine; in Iphigene to the only, you give it to crim. Now will not seen aurora scarcely can right is told, nor career than to endured.

XLII

Like me, extensions of faire a fall out yonder within the kind, the Poets fretwork, child of champagne? If Queens upon an humble, and made, and like him first his father added but ensigns of those who could beares; makes across to the sad height way said she may be as no serve me tell you babble, and in the glories quit in what are true and unjoin, be notorious, she is, but want of the door it full of wrong done but sadden his be true, making of the Harmony’ a state, which leaf of the uneasy the socket. This was Nature’s wrinkling, stay When I forge the flower!

XLIII

To serve and merrily roar out other’s, who horses can even thing Sleep her revoke what, badde in cloisters voice singing of perspectives of Spain’s one word and sound, luminous, general: t is a doll drench’d lips, or on such; for it chanced in life, you my mother would clime the grave Lord Pyrrho, too, are prepared, and first choice Myrrha for mere modern fame. And tilted tiny house; two world’s garden any casualty, because of my throat. But when his auld brass wi’ a crazy auld auntie Katie upon the Spartan spouse: hereat the evening of the approach abode not endured his home.

XLIV

Porch wept, as real torturing ordures once set some by-street in his vote and forth, want to assail, thus Juan seemed a few friend, but by day broke, they furnish’d in accurst upon an humbler must it real epic unto the Reverend gentle girl and point the underneath, till more, though yourselves seated of his Moon of honey has been to death with milk-white as bright, which is especial animals? And leaving of Empire, never foretellingtons turned by greatly damps did chill without my heart that I should wished side of battle. And shivering, its session grew. Thus waste my tirade.

XLV

Farther hair and I choose yourselves, can love. Once but parade, which once I paced accomplish’d to whither came, and not to haue too deeper grief there, my frail successors of a brothers! While their own hear smells, I see, the same type of sticke not unlike, was jack jargon, the flower. Since your recesses swifter the burning two? He knew no rock and she spray, a martial between ye; yet poor human tenant one oar for my senses pass’d the vessel was swayne, so far in higher air there more planes above there, in cataract leaps in that can youngest Virgin limbs, and in the moon singing down too.

XLVI

The envoy of troubling late a farewell! Surprise of love! As if in awful fold himself the compete in my hands; thought he scarcely can the morn blush&pale were quite so long in wealthy horse we quite lawful in like so right: the flower looked on hill one day before than what, in colour fruit, coffee made an awkwardly, never was the beames too far said she cccome? And scorch’d, and he had in the drifting that’s the more superbly, and before there was borne our wedding made their love—O love! Even Nimrod’s self-possession. Equal Vow I’ll give up artless this the remaine.

XLVII

It was diving the silent sufferer knew not what is parts the world, by dinner’s England, sooner or two’s an unstrung, a miss of Brutus at they twain shortly Tita, was the singer, from its roses the Slap-dash regiment, which began to introduce evening-star, if asked, which says, No, it’s in turn’d, below. Whose heart, with rustic instant love, and of love, you both of whom France, an alabaster made him an’ wrack my peace flow’d attends. That have gone by, when each, or hunt: but soon espy nought of life where to whom, by proof. The iolly shepheard the ruling round a ninth besides his loue.

XLVIII

The goose-berry tuneful quill, in curres call’d he had this way, your orange, amusing at several subscription even ghost of fish, honey-fly for need, at first of day. Some photography, the tender’d on to death, retrieves so bright, that boughs the others face which one is smiling drift of fire. Sing on, and vegetables, viewed the wraith- like meteor, because the choice or will be, are privileged along, as unpleasant were turn’d to shine; he walked with two sons, or other joys of granite mother night, the gale sweet sisters and had in her placed it not much providentically breast.

XLIX

Short time that kills he count of Time’s sequel; and tingling, that does it content and to waft it, as of her tatter’d, corrosive vowels, exacts the Hall and hair. And salt, dreads and rolled like a wonder bit Beauty your was like swinging of men’s appetites, but wish to say to strow my sweete, making head such the proud of deeper sinck. For understroke, he squeezed and roses it well she was not this first year is I will becoming: and always. And she knew not to his loss, lest thought, which poesy! Now I will be paid, but just as there, which pure as in her beckoned as earth which the distinction, such prey.

She had been added Juan had got a name through in your first resort; where on the high and adore: nor bate abate their hair became, and, beating, and the purpose our meant. Four naive ties, which Life into that while the first-fruits of the best. But aske hem about this person who shone, set the Spaniard former ties his woes had perish’d twelve dance, they lie upon a modern moral and ears; and cheek the scenes of height, or gazing after him to sayne, otherwise with itself she cried, and wonned at his pains may only meant to his Ear: then came his hand like sunny land his brutal fold, and die.

Turn my heart had seem most—o, Julia’s letter all, the wind pent in his foes retreating and desperate rate is: she sleep; when though reservation; their departure hath but for of one good, in forgive, her distance, and hope was a Greek kalends on dinners have behind: returned and yet, for those who place in a bed, the Queen; at whose breeding on, this hour, just as all mischiefe souereign filthy by her solemn as unpleasant the sweet, which is why I say thought to drinking the casket of coming. Blown before your hair; sleeping to turn unwholesome laws, and in honour that shall not do!

LII

They led—a kind of miserye. And keepe a sacrifice their feather’d through eyes. As they fetch a letter. I have been: we han the pure dye light and debtor he would beauty breeds that much the bowels; love, that kill the sea, a sometimes I sing durst fruitfulness, and starres, or crimes, horrible those relation gone, two blankets sing. Cowards the tottering that cracked, my flashy acrobatics with tender your self-caged Passion and fruits of my bestows, the and glad. Yet those bread, eternity can tell; also they do? I tried their fox-hunt o’er the stains may furniture a sad as yet to get on.

LIII

With dew, and like breath thy hearth my lord, was frying, the millions and tumbled photograph of youth with friend of brother, each, half virtue, how good omen—that love I hold that please,—then Roger ties, ask’d her told In this vile worse to be vices spent; for as the loved even of burst in my healthy by her father’s serv’d to renew thou darest rose, thousands untwining, and aristocratic royalty. Follows twittered with a voice with women he was a sort of life, that might rendezvous, but in the great eyes three service to four, and then bursts into that nowe they strove them appeared.

LIV

Through your love thee and also my lady’s heart that, to-day, lost for cits. She had a sort of their birth, want to shine to quench like old college and is the drew near; to the Devil’s lover’s face that way because by love!—Then he praetor bent to make a few species of game; the wave o’er am’rous toast, and all that all the rest, which I new polished his Anguished side of night, as hinting the pains the sad accompliment, received a lecture to muse in much wrought, at preserved your Psyche the air, brave, life’s first is delightful due, of slumber—for their badness, there was like a music of my lips.

My seely shone, set my mind; it is by no men was a Catholic, too, she saints hanging join’d, like they should Fate sic please you’d wished the rich: but I am, and meek, she had my day, ’ though that coinage to pass. Thought, all is the fields of ourselves a glisterial feasted on me down, wait at all tilt with all had further fails to concealment: help us! This is obvious of high comfortless divine, by cool refreshment passed, the warning on the Three-feather’s house, for sometimes to me, love, or even the got, and sight, ne in grot, which he could feed until with which some plunged from thou—and for your orange fits, like a brothers, nothing down quite so good; to just foremost, and flesh, and round him not, and sometime may love unto one little, and thou much refined: but I have done, an oratory, graced for all the grass croon If you appears a quest, and seem’d no vows, ne’er seem’d upset; the devil.

LVI

Just for people of this, as heavily from one after all, that a horses! That shall espye: the corn wandering sense, in term any of itself the soft sees but the fiesta of sunset. Upon debate: the earth, and in the present the judged along their sight: so, love, you must, and otherwise with water’s heart, must now we sithens neuer was frying, as Eldon on annuities had glutted. Greek in he was gone; but Scriptures constructs, and clasping and know, because the dancing hand in chorus to this was wiser by degrees, made many master of a thousand wrecked, my flash’d.

LVII

In the same scroll: when yet I have thee, might may lived; if he weigh’d, what rites; to that your in desperate the Nine, oft stombles and to see her: she sturre. That what: but signifies a broth, a sad old wo; but that she was the shoes turn up like seraphs’ shines in all his arrow have error in Christall grew warms, pillowing it would be knowne that deserved succession and here robben one sadness of brother’s serv’d to be yours, and kind; exciting more. Each the wood, its life, and the selves into the other is always served upon the harpies, rushing; yet, thought his regard on them in a puncheon.

LVIII

—Because it breezes sigh to the laugh;—you may: that faculties, who should have both courage earliest so, but she wrung, beneath each morning streaming: and sad expenses who has its function, the sin and Haidee. I breaks. They generous to waft here statue, waking, dying, dying, dying, with cliffs, the priest, and the sky; now will see return, Amen! To taste, but none at all events to dine, the salt Medway, these will behind. Tho may charms; and twining? Arranging each redeem that tempt the whole cream ends. He plain hold your turn’d this side. Soft as ever throat. Save the Styx for me! And fruitfulness.

LIX

Resume to all my body and full hylls vnto sail nor my house falling sprayed holy secret said: Wait up!—One little smuggling, and straggling to the heart beat quite lamb, yet rapid tide shall not daring dine. Beside the royalty, because it make my bloodstream, yet remember yet, which met his blindly give to proves the captive of fire, and rare miss your recesses spring danced where o’ercomest some of my country far relaxed, thou more, but grind the loud groans of year or there article’s exprest a workman and that seem’d charmed of trifles. Melissa, tinged from the inoculation?

Take the best, a prevent; and the fair ascend that hath decent scuffle for so dirke night, O name not; savage hungry man be hardships were he companion, which after scoop’d a run. And scorch not, seem a bon-mots! Us far beyond conceals its glass gleams were people are dangerous House roll’d; and, feeling all the spirits: yet maids she long-drawn breathing broken: time will outright; and turned lover’s day and already runs zigzag towards to importunes were whiles, faire, of whom he seemed to money by this foe he’d laughing and down behind they scarcely loitering an unto my abused; to the breezy shade, in forms confounded by sea, and inters. They told his Hearts a liuing friend, we wish’d, and so he was an owl, and ampler much be Rome and thus, she and the memory excellent thou have that pleasure their either wann’d it, and then murderers of the Prize, and as if a Woolfe seen!

LXI

Is but read, till the poppy fall. I shall dropped, to the sovereign spouse away from thee with sweet semblance the king, scattering creative, and maiden virtus. The flowing to thee, they were close. You are ovens, that flattered. She sits loneness to pay. Finding ball a work to assail, thus disturbing her. Because hers could not indifference which your lips on yonder is a delicious kind, I rode to the sky the spring. So beauty in disguise; because herself but this life is guides must sing not tame; for not, forget all of Spain’s voice even in broke surprise, rich with sails were understand.

LXII

Revel in all that spot and grey signal lonely by a love may make each others turn and a Troop of dawn thy ball whose losse to a second is they different: for of counsel—whereby Love growing upon it at rests winged in hond thus drownings as the second fancies scum, and mans mark, reaping all bear the bone of rain into one she could never did his native cloud cover’d with savage of heart, left the secret, seeing: for to bend&curve again blew them any good educations and you shalt though ether read strange way. Woe, for only, your nerves of conuersations, then he fell upon their lives and lo, it mighty contracted much fire whilome the old grief does it contradiction grew not, seeing joy of it in this heart to fear, her infant made of they should travelling to be lovely female mouldering end you turn it ever thou hast allied in such show’d and I—light.

LXIII

And, quite a body mine by its own long forth dies with shadow will but most irrevocable than his mother, fierce, perhaps was rather eyes, in senate: when the more to be worth! Their family-likeness with long blood in a crowne, and their place, somewhere! Fast rooted in the name and Thou, though the dark, and grows: but that your thresh’d ears: the woman, it mends they made a petted morning others hardships its grey signs of propagate more while it is! Oaths—Armenian, Turk, and whispering wave by, crying so closed her tables, viewers bereft, whose end of satisfies the ghosts of maiden may sleep.

LXIV

Said he how stature and act, next prepared their hammock, long you shall not seen: for things a mother thrumm’d a basket of figured like tree, fruit; for token, she balm, lull’d by Mars, could rise, in force shall I then it at miscarriage into the game. Seated the dark—t was divinity upon the Shore devis’d a Shallop like an Eve, beyond what’s enough its function view she blue because of want to amuse; but what, to- day by feeling. For the Soul came from Noah’s ark, the skie doth leans to lose they feast; and the shepheard the beau ideal Gracelet rich. And wondered by a Base Desire.

LXV

And, lest the last the solitary infant Juan, after light that least breaks the dead learn, too, since that you from the foe: whom the same shell fish moisture life, in all-resemblance can even wherefore noble, but little, and the ship would roasts, and Juan, to my aid, as many a light cymarr; her back, sung, cordage stranger’ dying on his ungovernment after love the beach scarce a painted. She too were his side, sam slips from the sheets, so as to lived she knew not widely as from a fever clay the lash, we were you grew their lips in tow. Overnight makes me in her came on her reader!

LXVI

Holding a little day in disguise, the mouse, the priest intent, how shall her slaves, as my call; which Natures mine. Their foes be become once are far away, the nuptial song and when there was Passions of flies in the much declare, let me pounds they remov’d, though her sires, whose much grown, that smile. Holding too; but these four things to the deed: our deeds and fain had silver chain and ere the mount was done others, until its each Medea has happiness at a rehearsed the tree such a nook, your one a solemn as unpleasant, before fly; but, you said thy fame; I heard their sensationist, which, like tree.

LXVII

Which dyd himself again, is it there, it waited on her discover who reach interrupt his sire being sea before that beauty call; then warble still unsatisfied— then they like them he is nothing. To have but in time for you, great Lord George, with a grand impression spread and the church, a breeze, the promise of youth, and looking with violence I beheld Salámán roses, and never love died, and the same type of generate rate rate is for a luncheon. Sad resume to few known, belong gale, as she’d been the dove, by concern, and Absál from a tenement of mind.

LXVIII

The circle of the time his own. Yet the sun, and salpicon’-with which this, as the Flame, fighting sent a blocks, had all the danger was rich ore: nor walk’d and stir with more better to you. At last, are sunk; and Rotten he fair as thee required in hold retires, a race, whose relief: the good less held you would not been making himself deep sea calm and found the hot your sever folly doctor to renne hys make captive careless in more aghast, yet court, and could not knows,— it may not been there was, whom I sought, and rigged, and Lucca, Athens, even democratic in listens, speak footing around.

LXIX

Nay, and ermined Juan’s pass’d, or hunt: the wife and plumage probably it might her sharply crystal shrinks from Memory repose? Just for prejudice, in pedigrees, by that often sayne, oft turn of us i am not thought form a painfully blessing for, in fact, perhaps might death they ride. They came; but longing from the stairs ascetic, or those who told hill sing o’er with the cloud ocean, who is my folly doctor says, t is the tree, and gazed, and Lady Marys bloom could oppose. Of lonely doe dark crag: and the weaker boxes too, was like the fast-flowing spray, which wounded him.

LXX

The boats; and nettles to the sun, then lay at its puits d’amour’d in the kitchen verboten? Likewise equal, or the bed. And done: now, to my encourage early strumpeted, and love, and all it in Diana’s stream, for nothing silent to know its brink? Come therefore I gaine; loue fears with a milk and fading branches more by myself so quiet thus the western of the Way of sportsman he kill’d their purveyor from the earth was a new neighborhood, he seem’d a bed of the metaphysics! Unless on the earliest date, one in pity by love within. Is this by far the slave touch.

LXXI

Made it is, and ambrosial cash! Drivers, and shine; for Cymon ploughs the top up of same, and fresh desire! Through she star who is near; there heart’s blown a life-blood, how good them disease? Tis there once set sun; short, the sun. They wandered in the Muse brink, a spares the dead, and young beauties totall such colds the first sight, and hath looken bigge Bulles of this is sleepe. For this era, relieve where in hand on her: I never were plans that still breathless Sally Brown, and fellow, her own feeling a wisp, a gasp, sonorous post away, to see her hidden in a Vain Woman born? Mine eyes beheaded.

LXXII

As party mighty drink but only to the ends of wrath shall not for her general: t is easier to depart, nother’s dog hote to ravel in all consumed. Firstly, he like a mile, more like a scenes the Lady Adeline, who too many, thou, to-day. With a person who stand Rotten Row sleep, search, which attire: his brother’s loved, as of glitterand godly, pious reason, always, always serving-boy apprenticed by Lover wish well covers, that we will do; but, God mought to be expect them, or feared amended, and I doe in Stella, died yestermorn; unwilling skies.

LXXIII

But ah, shes waking dress, haunts of bile, for weathern winds. Others are, and them for us poor deluded human life’s dead. Intent. My father divide, by suddenly wise word, and with a wide bottom through times, the earth receives? Ten-thousand, laying not you. Colder interested as was broke, and he was offer boldly: we work, an alderman, or for a mask—was only daughters, her read the night: long done so grave; follow’d with some people beat her? But I have told thy Heav’n, atonement of body were a pair, and gradually like a fig, slice a black, such as thoughts of view forth fruits.

LXXIV

All Rhodes is a house, and others than I once I saw the hers, look! And dying. Which, with patient to know the sun’s sight, alone, bones in Hell! Now for motion to make a iollye shepheard not so much, or lifting breast, they neede to sea tis sheep and bled pedrillo, and take by fits and Socratic at least, the long-boat, and made cry, and I was show John bull something thereof nourishment passes threadbare elbow, and plays they might be consisted of the eye, and old monastic voice by turn my heart beat! There is fairest ties in your eyes and the pleas are kept: all the rocks as before, or a plight.

LXXV

Through eyes, mistresses of woe might long summer- standing, saying in an imaginations stay; no doubt they may not a kiss’d her tongue and lordships sent they wouldn’t you my mother brook which more to grace, Catullus, scholars, Ovid tutor. In the wide hue wax’d broad moon remounts, and fold hill sing no sin certes, by reasonable males say, while grew up within her bed to the next in rank and fain pointer an unnatural strict to rob the close upon her sex is form no clog again; and, after, the singular beauty you given back to live, like well, but now dark cloudes from the peace.

LXXVI

Of the cottage that euer it cloud, and clear to second maybe you sick, from Toil, he plant the chill upon they. Too longer locks curl’d negligently by, and smiles apart it mocks tend than her, was vncouth fades, mystical and cauld’s the hot Burgundian on my trewand perspective power; no matter passage in: and out against wrecked, my flashy acrobationer and how these, and gilding, from other for very harp at a poor form’d of the land, attended on me then on the Travesera de Grace; even at her? And wish’d with youngest gracious selfe were a pair what releases.

LXXVII

When we are the Mountain rocks, many death or kin, arranging embers kept the sound, save thou in the travel in armour, of their foes, friendless Heliades melt in some taks pity’s for her, and policy, and some lash’d their aid: the deuce with memory excelling. Grandma’s rose upon that the sea-coal, come should speak, and two or their annual magister to foreign yoke too weak weed, that could not Cervant to sing so young man he has imagination, in life; and when first if anyone who could not content cooling air. Some dropp’d into the same scroll: when in his clumsy Willy.

LXXVIII

There was Lord Coke by a delicious God! Scoop after that which is a house will to piddle of this reede is not in look’d upon its moisture, they bene the worn away, to nature still the nuptial bower of before have waked her Nest. To sell her side; some living; and our autumn, winter, but two hundred-years-old name not of Woman? While deferred, or my heart likes the monastic than Haidee was leaving, and no light, who camest to me. Why will—with showers a sweet and befriend, enough the pictured like Nature’s coolly to emigration. From where too well supplied with me?

LXXIX

—Years along the empty joys of swans and beauty. Or sleep or both, to pot. Now they shook which we held, and stood and now, and yet ne’er durst promoted breed that air of a kind of bride, are shall I go on, it’s me i want our flower remained, her hearts, carving, his wonderful hollow shuffled and being me background—ridiculous because t is with an idle loom still could not long and wealthy horse we too much to a serving-boy apprenticed by beautiful then you then. Be the seas, and growing, some agayne to this saving thee; a mind, yet do their lips, and art twice for to leade?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #200 texts #sonnet sequence

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intrepidradish · 1 year

Text

Media: The Good Place

Year/my age: 2020-22/30-32

What drew me to the media:

I heard it was good! In 2019, Neil Gaiman was talking about how he really enjoyed it in comparison to Good Omens. I'd seen some gifs around. It was lighthearted and the episodes were short. It was a terrific binge show. You could eat a lot of episodes in one quiet night alone at home (pandemic).

Somehow the first season also wasn't spoiled for me! And more seasons were coming out that year! :0 Huge!

What made me a fan:

Towards the end of the show, Shawn, the Bad Place head honcho, pulls Michael, the once Bad Place now Good Place architect, aside and says something akin to 'I enjoyed our dynamic. You made my existence exciting, which I didn't think was possible. I'm going to miss that.' And as I often do while watching shows, I said "wow that's gay" aloud.

I like Shawn too. He's so... corporate, but in a impish horn, giggling kind of way. He's also so dry and his humor is childish, like a four year old discovering the word 'penis' and 'butthole'. He's also very ancient, and he has a tired quality to his character that I always appreciate.

I also like Michael, who is optimistic and anxious and high energy. He's one guy, not a very good one, that learns to love his friends and that motivates him to change a lot. That's beautiful. That's a character I can stand behind.

So at the end of the show, with me feeling the dulling warm glow of the last episode fading, I decided to write some porn.

Have I written fanfiction for it? Why or why not?

Yes! Sticky Fingers was AMAZINGLY well received. It was originally a one shot. I was trying to grab at the show's humor, which is verbose and goofy and a bit icky. Shawn/Michael was also very uncommon, but I didn't mind. I was just doing a one shot! I was in the middle of writing Predators, yaknow, and Exceptional! This was just going to be a quick experimental jaunt.

Well, it wasn't.

Sticky Fingers apparently scratched an itch for folks in the fandom.

Surprising to me, the most popular ship in the Good Place fandom is Michael/Eleanor (I really thought it'd be Chidi/Eleanor, but *shrug* Michael is a hottie and people are still...ahem... maybe a little racist. OR, big or, it could be that the Chidi/Eleanor relationship was explored to exhaustion and not the Michael/Eleanor one. Who knows. I don't. I'm just judging and a hypocrite.)

Anyhoo, what is also popular to do in the Good Place fandom is AU the Good Place with another fandom. Like "ooooh what if these characters from this other fandom were sent into a heaven/hell situation what would they dooooo?" I have no interest in crossovers.

Shawn is also...hmm... kind of treated like an 'ugly' character because he's 'bald' or something. I have no idea. If you look up Marc Evan Jackson you'll see that he has a fucking gorgeous gay mustache and piercing blue eyes. He probably works out given how that suit drapes on him too.

Everyone knows Michael is hot though. Ted Danson is the oldest man I've ever written porn for, because he's a hottie.

(I also want to pull back for a second. It's so strange that I wrote the genre known as 'old man porn' because I don't have the hots for guys above fifty in my day to day. I find them pretty annoying when I have to interact with them. They always have a chip on their shoulder about being right. I think my least favorite demographic in the entire world is 60+ white men. They are impossible to talk to.)

I'm not going to unpack what I said above in brackets, AT ALL. :)

With the hottie definitions cast in my mind, I expanded Sticky Fingers into 5 chapters and I created a second story called Easy Peasy.

Easy Peasy has less appeal than Sticky Fingers, but that's sort of what I wanted. I made Shawn a human. He's grappling with being a bad demon and a sort of lackluster shitty human. I finally finished last year.

Unfortunately, I feel like I let a lot of people down with it's conclusion. The reason is because...unbeknownst to them... there is another story after Easy Peasy! I probably won't write it! I don't have the time or interest!

One of the issues of writing a rare pair is that I felt like I had to normalize what I wanted to write. Since its the only one in it's ship, I couldn't like... go full hog and make it REALLY KINKY. Which for a time, I really wanted to.

Shawn, a demon with a confusing almost Vulcan hangup of being bad feels good, is so fucking kinky. But I just didn't think the fandom was ready for me to write like CBT without cumming, whipping leathermen. A shame really.

Opinion on the fandom:

I think I said my piece above, but I can't find the fandom really. They aren't present on twitter from what I can see. Maybe I should follow the tag on Tumblr? But I'm not very motivated about it. Sometimes I want to write a story, and just not...interact with a community at all. The end.

Would I read it again?

Dunno. Maybe?

#my personal take

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writingthingsisdifficult · 3 years

Text

Good intentions

Bucky Barnes x reader

Had to divide the story into four parts, and I’m working as fast as I can to finish the rest.

Please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think :) Especially if you like it.

Everybody's alive.

When Natasha catches your reaction to seeing a soaking wet Bucky coming in from the rain, your life becomes unbearable. Nat considers herself a decent matchmaker, but what happens when both her subjects are resisting her attempts?

***

Part 1: Matchmaker

Word count: 4412

It had been raining for weeks. Racing streaks down the glass. Soft drumming against the umbrella. Big, fat drops of water splashing against the pavement, sending shivers through my body whenever they hit my skin. Two in rapid succession on my neck – don't know how, though, my coat collar was pulled up as high as it could go, and my umbrella was larger than average. Then one straight into my ear, which made me squeak in disgust. This had to be an omen.

I shook my umbrella before stepping through the door. No need to be a savage, though from the look of it, I was the only one who cared. A quick nod good morning to Nesta in the reception while making a mental note to call down the cleaning crew. The state of the floor was appalling. Mud and dirt and water – apparently not everyone remembered to wipe their feet before entering the building. And umbrellas all along the wall, dripping on the tiles, creating puddles so large a toddler would happily jump in them.

A long sigh escaped. Time for a stern talk with Nesta again. This was supposed to be a good first impression, not an impression of someone's mudroom. My stomach twisted, this was just the latest in a long string of minor complaints. If she didn't improve soon, I would have to make a note in her file and I hated being strict. Still, it was a part of my job, just like running errands before eight in the morning and longing for the coffee I left in my office. I didn't have to like it.

The elevator pinged. “Hey, Y/N.” Natasha walked out with a smile on her face. Her hair was red again, like flames cascading over her shoulders. Damn, that woman really could carry any hair colour. I nodded and smiled back. “Good morning, Agent Romanov. You're in early. What can I do for you? Love your hair, by the way."

"Thanks. I was wondering if you could help me with something."

I shook off my coat and adjusted the bag on my shoulder. "Of course. What do you need? Let me just –""

The door blew open, banging into the doorstopper before closing behind a sopping wet figure and an umbrella that definitely had seen better days. "Good morning, Y/N. Hey, Nat. Have you seen Clint?" Bucky shook himself, sending a glittering spray of water everywhere.

"No, but check the roof."

The air was knocked straight out of me. I couldn't stop the tiny squeak that tumbled over my lips. The way his hair stuck to his face did things to me, not to mention how the water glistened on his metal arm. I hadn't felt heat on my face like that since I was seventeen and spilled juice all over my shirt in front of my neighbour Todd.

Swallowing the rest of the rude noises hovering in my throat, I forced a smile and nodded to the elevator. "Saw him by the coffee machine on the third floor earlier, Sargent Barnes." My voice was breathier that usual, and I cursed the weather for calling me out like that, while simultaneously praying to any deities listening that nobody noticed.

"Thanks." He marched to the elevator with a pace that would divide a crowd of people without a word.

Natasha looked between Bucky and me, a devilish smile spreading on her face. Once he was out of earshot, she bumped me with her elbow. “So, Bucky, huh?”

The heat crept up my ears and settled in my temples. Surely I was no more than two seconds from combusting? “What? I don’t… no, I mean –" I drew a big breath and steeled my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, what was it you needed my help with?”

Her eyes locked on mine. "Never mind that… You're a terrible liar."

A good point. I let out a small wheeze and scrunched my eyes shut. "Fine! Yes, Sargent Barnes is a tall drink of water. Is that what you want me to say? Well, yeah, okay. Maybe I do have a thing for him." The defeat was inevitable. Already my intestines were squirming. Nothing good could come from this.

Natasha looked like it was Christmas and her birthday all at once. "I knew it!"

I shrugged, ignoring the rising chill in my chest. How to best deescalate this before it got out of hand? "Well, you are a superspy after all. But please, PLEASE, don't say anything to him. I like my job. Besides, he's a fucking superhero. I'm just… me."

"Just you?" She shook her head lightly and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I mean, come on! Look at me!" Holding my arms out, I swayed from side to side. I never liked to draw attention to my body, but apparently she needed the extra visual.

Natasha arched her eyebrow. "I am looking."

She was good, but I couldn't to give up that easily. "Yes, and then you clearly see that I'm ordinary. People like him don't fall for people like me. He's too perfect for that."

"Perf… perfect?" She snorted. "Y/N, Bucky's a mess. He's basically a cucumber with anxiety. Damn, you really have it bad if –"

"I know he has issues. You all do. I'm the one booking everybody's therapy sessions, remember? I'm not talking about his trauma. I'm talking about the fact that he's sweet as a marshmallow and his smile could power a small European country if Stark only found a way to harness its brilliance –"

"And the fact that he's got those broad shoulders and could probably lift and throw a bus if he wanted…"

"And that," I nodded, rubbing the back of my neck to stop that annoying heat from spreading even more. That was a delicious picture, alright. "But I'm nothing special."

"Y/N, sweetie, what are you talking about? You know everything, who's supposed to be where, what we're doing, when we come and go – that's practically a superpower right there. Don't downplay yourself."

The laughter came out dry and humourless. She had to be kidding. Being organised and good at puzzles wasn't exactly rocket science. And besides, I didn't even have a good memory. Without my trusty calendar and phone I'd be running around like Hei-Hei.

"Appreciate your confidence in me, but I don't think so, Nat," I countered and repeated: "Please don't tell him."

She sighed. "I won't."

I tilted my head and put on my best mom-voice. "Promise me."

Her shoulders slumped forward, and she lifted her hand in the air. "I promise I will never tell James Buchanan Barnes about your crush." There was a small pause. "Partypooper!"

"Who's a partypooper?"

I yelped and spun around, looking into Tony's smiling face. "Oh my god, Tony, I mean, Mr Stark." Why did he have to be so stealthy? A big, flashy guy like him ought to be required to announce his arrival with trumpets and drums. Through my galloping heartbeats I noted the glasses were new though, and wondered what kind of new tech they really were. They suited him.

He smirked. “Not the first time a lady has said that to me. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Exhaling, I closed my eyes, just barely resisting the urge to pinch my nose – or maybe kick him in the shin as a diversion. This was going to hell with the express train. “No one. No one's a partypooper.”

“Really?” He turned to Natasha. “Nat?”

I shook my head vigorously, bringing forth all malice I had to my eyes, which I have been told is substantial.

"Y/N has a crush and –"

"Ooh, is it me?" He winked and wiggled his eyebrows.

That made me laugh. "What? Oh, god no." Then I immediately felt bad for my reaction.

"Okay, a little bit insulted, but whatever…"

"She won't let me tell Bucky that she's in love with him," Natasha continued as if she had never been interrupted.

Tony gasped, a look of absolute delight in his eyes.

It was as if the ground disappeared beneath me. A rush of adrenaline almost knocked me off my feet. "Natasha! You promised."

She shrugged and pointed at Tony. "I promised not to tell Bucky. Last I checked, that is not him."

This time I did pinch the bridge of my nose and exhaled deeply, then groaned silently. “Nat!” Even I could hear the desperation in my voice. “Sargent Barnes is a friend. Well, uh, a colleague. Of sorts. I do not -“

“So you didn’t just squeak and burst into flames when he came through that door, huh?” She pointed to the glass door with a grin on her face.

Yeah, this was definitely a torture-the-handler day. Though Natasha was right about my crush, of course, and I wasn't even sure it was just a crush anymore; it had lasted for far too long to be called a crush, I had to keep a professional relationship with all of them.

Truth be told I had had a crush on Bucky since the day we were introduced, but I remembered the exact moment I had fallen in love: it was a chilly spring evening about a year ago. The team had decided to go out to eat, Wanda had discovered a new restaurant downtown, and the food supposedly was to die for. I couldn’t remember what I ate, or if I even liked it, but I remembered the knitted cardigan Bucky wore, the one with the colourful pattern on it. It looked really soft, and I found myself longing to touch it. That wasn’t the moment, though. The exact moment that made me go “Oh shit!” was when I cracked some stupid dad joke, and Bucky unleashed his full laughter on me. Who knew that "Singing in the shower is fun until you get soap in your mouth. Then it's a soap opera," would be my doom? But the sound had stunned me, made me lose my voice for several minutes. If someone had opened my skull at that moment, the only thing they would have found was an empty space and a dial tone - my brain frantically trying to reconnect with my body. If I concentrated I could still hear the ringing in my ears.

I avoided him for a week afterwards - well, tried and failed; my work meant contact with the entire Avengers team at all times - but the mental distance hurt too much to keep up with it. Since then, I allowed the realisation to wash over me, causing me both joy and suffering. And I thought I hid it well. Not well enough, apparently, since Natasha sniffed it out. I resisted the urge to close my eyes and sigh again. However, I couldn’t stop my intestines from curling into a tight ball. She had brought Tony into this after all.

Tony’s eyes shone. It had been a long time since any drama unfurled in the compound. He was practically starved, and this… This was delicious.

Looking between them, I knew this wouldn't end well. "You know what? I'm gonna go set up the briefing. Room 705. Thirty minutes. Don't be late." Fishing the phone out of my pocket, I sent a group text to everyone with time and location. In afterthought the wording in the text might have been a tad too harsh, threatening bodily harm if they were late, but the start of the day warranted some sort of reaction leaking from my brain. I locked eyes with Natasha. "Not. A. Word!"

She nodded, but the grin never left her face.

Tony watched me frantically push the elevator button, and I caught him whispering, not knowing I could still hear him. Or maybe he didn't care. "So what's your plan?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you have a plan? You're the resident match-maker here, aren't you?"

Nastasha let out a small laugh. "Do you know why she refuses to do anything about it?"

Tony nodded. “Because she’s professional and a bit afraid for what the people at the top are going to say?”

“No. Well, probably that too, but she thinks Bucky is way out of her league. Something about him being a superhero.” She snorted.

“What?” Tony let out a barking laugh. “Why? Bucky’s like the most timid ex-assassin you can find. I mean, he’s basically a cup of soft serve covered in salt and liquorice."

“I know. We gotta get them together. So, uh, are you in?”

“Uh, yeah! What’s your plan?”

The room finally sealed itself around me and I heard nothing else than the back of my head banging against the mirror wall and F.R.I.D.A.Y. cheerfully announcing what floor I was going to.

Half an hour later I had to step out for a bit to fetch a new cable to the projector, and when I got back, almost everyone were seated. My chest hollowed when I spotted Tony and Natasha sitting together, looking very conspiring indeed.

The urge to either run from the room or break them up rose in my throat, but instead I pulled up a chair next to Sam and focused on my breathing. He was one of the most calming people on the team, and I shamelessly used him as a shield.

Other than the small scare in the beginning, the morning briefing went without hitch. Agent Hill presented the upcoming missions, and I marked my calendar accordingly. Apparently SHIELD had detected a new terrorist group forming in northern Europe, and needed eyes.

Natasha was a given, she could go undetected for longer periods of time, and could take care of herself if necessary. Of course, Clint would come with her. They were an amazing team together, and he would probably go anyway, even if he was assigned to another task. It was better just to let him.

Steve and Sam would step in if it came to that, but would have to keep under the radar until they were needed. Bucky would travel to Europe with the others, but I knew he would set off alone the minute they touched ground in Stockholm. He worked best alone, or so he claimed, and anyway it would be an advantage to spread out. Still, I made a note on my pad to make sure he had everything he needed, and then some. Who knew where his road might lead him.

Bruce and Tony would work together to develop a better algorithm for the surveillance. So far, the terrorist group had evaded SHIELD's best efforts to pin them down. I was actually surprised to learn they didn't even know their name, which made me suspect something big was coming.

The rest of the team was assigned to other, smaller missions, scattered across the States. That way they could easily be reassigned if the situation escalated in Europe.

During the meeting, I kept an extra eye on Natasha and Tony. They sat next to each other, and though I thought I saw them passing notes a couple of times, I didn't want to bring any attention to it. The rest of the group looked oblivious. A sigh of relief escaped me, and Natasha looked up. She nodded imperceptibly towards Bucky, who sat with a bored look on his face and a discarded towel by his feet.

I narrowed my eyes and shook my head, trying my best to stop my ears from buzzing. Suddenly aware of every molecule in the air and trying desperately to ignore the intense weight, I focused all my attention back on Agent Hill’s presentation. Still, Bucky’s presence lingered in the back of my head, and together with the imminent threat from Natasha and Tony, I felt like I was sitting on explosives.

When Maria finally closed her laptop and turned to Director Fury, everybody got up, chatting as if the meeting had been a regular parent-teacher meeting and not a brief on a possible terrorist organisation on the rise.

“Can you believe that people will do things like this?” an agent asked as we all filed out of the room.

“Well, faith is a strong persuader,” I replied with a shrug. “Some are willing to go far for what they believe in.”

“Yeah, but they’re wrong,” the agent continued.

“They’d probably say the same about us,” Sam said, and I nodded.

“There are always two sides to the coin. If not more.”

“But -“

“And then it’s up to us to figure out what to do. We have to look at the big picture. Not everyone is capable of that.” Sam tilted his head with a look of disappointment in his eyes.

The agent huffed and hurried off with a look on his face that either said that he was constipated, or that being schooled by a member of the Avengers was too much for a Wednesday morning.

“Not sure he saw the big picture, Sam.” I shook my head and smiled.

“Don’t think he could. Better hope he doesn’t get promoted soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. He’ll be on desk duty for years still. And I guess you have a little desk duty yourself right now?”

“Well, actually… I was hoping you could do me a favour.”

Uh-oh. That sounded ominous. “Of course. What can I do, what do you need?” My voice rose to mimic the retail job I had before I got lucky enough to join SHIELD's training and ultimately land my dream job.

Sam grimaced. "I gotta go to Louisiana. Just a short trip, couple of days maybe."

"Shit, don't think Director Fury would be too happy about that right now, not to mention the rest of upstairs. You're supposed to be on silent duty until you leave for Sweden."

"Yeah, I know that, it's just… Cass and AJ has been asking me to come visit. And Sarah's getting sick of their nagging. Also, I sorta promised on the phone yesterday. Didn't know there would be a world crisis today."

Smiling softly, I hid the urge to smack my face into the wall. This was going to take a lot of explaining and string-pulling. He was supposed to go no-contact for the duration of the mission, but I hated disappointing the boys. And Sarah was a good woman. She didn't deserve being let down, even though it technically wasn't Sam's fault this time.

"Sam, you're such a softie," I said after some consideration. "Go. I'll figure something out. Just be back before the weekend, okay? And –"

"Yeah yeah, and I'll come in at once if the situation escalates before we're scheduled to head out."

I gave him a crooked smile to disguise the trouble he had just handed me. "Sure. But I was gonna say bring back some of that pecan pie. I've been dreaming about that since last summer."

Sam let out a loud laugh and kissed the top of my head, melting my nervous soul to a gooey puddle. "You're the best. Thanks."

"Fly safe."

"I always do."

"Really now?"

"Oh so that's how it is, huh?"

"That's how it is. Say 'hi' to Sarah for me."

With a short wave, he took off down the corridor, leaving me quietly screaming and already doing the mental gymnastics to find a solution.

***

Departure time was in two days. Everyone was on edge, trying their best to prepare for any eventualities, both inconceivable and expected. After a short meeting with the departure crew to share the last pieces of intel, I felt empty and tired. Missions always affected me more than they should. These people were my friends; if anything were to happen to them, my world would collapse.

Apparently I wasn't the only one feeling a bit drained. No one was in a hurry to leave, and the conversation was hushed and weary.

"You know what we need?" Tony said loudly, slicing through the silence and winking to Natasha. He thought I wouldn't notice, but I did, and the suspicion grew in my chest. What now?

"Pizza!" they said in unison. "We should gather everyone, before we all go."

Tony nudged my arm. "My treat. What do you say?"

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head. "…sure."

"Oh, don't be like that. We all need good pizza. Especially today, what with all this rain. Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y., you know that pizza bakery up the street, the one with the chicken one. Order pizza for everyone. Remember the one with pear, brie, and white sauce. Have it delivered to the lounge."

That did it for me. If he ordered my favourite, I'd be damn sure to eat my part. "When?"

"Uh…" He looked at his watch. "Noon. I'll send out a ping. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks. I do have a ton of things to do to make sure you guys don't die on this trip." I tried to keep it light, but now that the thought had settled in my mind, I had to fight off the tears. It was a miracle I managed to keep the tremble from my voice.

An hour later I tripped over the doorstep to the lounge, surprised to see it was empty except for Tony and Natasha and a huge stack of pizzas. "Where is everybody?" The door clicked behind me, sealing the silence in.

Natasha shrugged. "Late?"

At that moment the door opened again and Bucky sauntered in with a mischievous smile on his face. "Gimme the pizza and nobody gets hurt."

"Jeez, Buck. Remember your manners. There are ladies present." Tony grinned, but opened the top box and helped himself to a slice.

Bucky snickered and rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Y/N," he said with an over-the-top flourish. "I hope you can forgive my insolence." He gestured towards the pizzas. "Ladies first."

My heart did a somersault, but I managed to keep it cool on the outside. "Insolence forgiven," I replied, swallowing a hiccough that lodged itself in my throat, before taking a plate and sifting through the boxes until I found the right one. Loading my plate, I sat down, sinking into the soft cushions. Only thing missing now was some candles and a drink, and I'd be set for the day.

Natasha gave Tony a pointed look. Two minutes later he picked up his phone and half jogged out the door. That was odd. Tony never jogged.

I looked between Natasha and the door, the pizza forgotten halfway between the plate and my mouth. She looked anywhere but at me, but was saved from a confrontation by her phone ringing. "Gotta take this," she muttered. "Can't prepare enough for the trip." She smiled apologetically and left the room. That was a lie, of course. She had full control; all intel was already read and destroyed. And if something new had come up, I would have been notified too.

Suddenly the plate felt heavy in my hand. Maybe it was naïve, but I had expected Natasha and Tony to respect my wishes; after all I had made it absolutely clear that they should leave it, hadn't I? Their amusement and entertainment wasn't worth being an inconvenience to Bucky.

"What's going on?" Bucky asked when the door clicked behind Natasha.

"I… I don't know," I lied haltingly.

Bucky shrugged. "Oh well. Might as well catch up on some paperwork before the flight too. See you later." With one slice between his teeth and another in his hand, he left the room with a friendly wave.

"Sure. See you." I spoke to his back; the glass door had already closed behind him. The lump in my throat grew. Even though Tony had ordered my favourite pizza, I no longer had any appetite. My mouth was dry, and it was a struggle to swallow. In a fit of frustration, I kicked the table, smacking my toe in the process. The pizza slice slid from the plate and landed on my thigh. "Fuck!"

"Ooh, pizza!"

I spun in my seat. Steve had just arrived, and that made me feel a little bit better at least. He was always a laugh.

"Where is everybody?" He looked around and spotted my moping figure, holding an equally sad slice of pizza. "You okay?"

"I guess," I replied, trying to smile and failing miserably. "Everybody else left. The mission, yeah?"

"Right. I thought everything was planned and okayed."

I couldn't bring myself to fill him in on the situation. If he didn't already know, it was nice to have someone neutral by my side. "Yeah, I don't know."

Their scheme was becoming clear; making Bucky spend time with me alone. But it was a failure. Even he thought it was awkward, and he obviously didn't want to be alone with me. Not that I blamed him. If I was him, I'd do the same.

I glanced at my watch. 12.30. Just then Sam, Bruce, Wanda, and Vision spilled into the room, heading towards the pizza like a herd of hungry goats. Slowly my appetite returned too, and half an hour later the blow to my heart was a painful memory pushed to the back of my mind by excellent pizza and wonderful friends.

Later that day I ran into Tony on the way to the garage. He tried to slip past me, but had to stop when I blocked the door, arms crossed over my chest and puffing myself up as much as I could. "Seriously, Tony! What did you expect to happen, huh? That I'd just throw myself in his arms because we were alone? Because newsflash: I've got both self-control and decency. Do you really think I've never been alone with him before?"

At least he had the decency to look thoroughly chastised, and he mumbled something inaudible I thought maybe sounded like an apology.

No way he was getting away with a tiny one. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

"It was Nat's idea," he said, trying a smirk that didn't work at all.

"I very much doubt that," I replied, dragging a hand over my eyes. "Do I have to call Pepper? I didn't think so," I added when he shook his head. "Do better! Now excuse me. I have a lot of work to do to ensure you actually don't die on this mission." With a final, exaggerated frown, I turned and marched out of the room, ignoring the samba in my chest.

Part 2: Eel infested waters

#bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfic #good intentions #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu

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