#;;steady with wintry calm

[ilyuu]

morning call.

the ends of the horizon stirs awake, and silks of gold drapes itself on the line that splits the skies and land. it just so happens that you wake along with it with the warmth of your other as a quiet promise. (or you wake up next to him.)

ft. albedo, ayato, childe, kaeya, kazuha & xiao.

warnings : a bit suggestive! (kaeya), fluff, kiths, a lot of kiths, soft times, blushy boys, descriptions of scars (childe), Imk if i missed anything!

albedo.

the delicate tandem of breaths shared is all you heard, the four corners of the room flooding back into your senses, filling you of all sorts of feelings and thoughts that fades as swiftly as it came. that and the cool touch of skin tightly on yours, fingers locked. his fingertips scratches the back of your hand every then and so, and every shift brings forth a calm wave, pulling you under as it crests and drowning you in familiarity.

you turn your head to the side, the pillow underneath you wrinkling, and held your breathe in when you saw him. there’s always a touch of eternity to him, how smooth and soft he looks, almost docile, whenever he sleeps. his lips slightly ajar, faint shadows of his lashes, strands of his sun-kissed hair in disarray. always the composed, and yet, not a silver of said composure is to be found in his side of him.

a pulse echoes, a bit louder - it may be his or yours, or both - as you lean in and peck the corner of his lips. a soft pink blooms on his pale cheeks, and it adds more color onto the dawn. the snow that slowly falls from the skies, clouded in its monotonous winter and bitter bite, seems to melt from his skin, almost fading all traces, as his eyes flutter just slightly to see you.

ayato.

a softness you felt familiar runs through your hair, untangling all of its ties and knots, brushing your scalp. as the tingly sense seeps in, the veil of sleep slips from you, and the world around starts to grow a bit lighter and brighter. it paints the room in a tender tint, yet frames the edges of his skin in its glow. his irises still held that solemnity that you seen in him a many times, yet faint - in lieu, a look of gentle content he gazes at you with - that air of cool collection that clings to him drifting elsewhere.

and he allows himself this small fracture of a morning as you close your eyes, lost in his touch - a bit crispy, yet soothing and ethereal all the same. there’s no pause, no slowing down, in the day ahead, as now is the only moment time can give him to spend on whatever is needed.

the world around him will continue on along with him, but, for now, he’ll ask for it to drag on a minute more as he moves his hand to cup your cheeks, stroking the corner of your eye as you, too, allow yourself this bit of the morning.

childe.

a scent tugged you out of your blanket of warmth, although the comforting tepidness you found yourself in as you do rouse awake might be a bit better - sandbearer, and a whiff of salt, albeit faded. it swirls around him and you, as you felt a tight tug of his arms, wrapped around your waist, to draw you close and closer to him. curled into the nook of his neck, hearing his slow, steady breathes, you’re almost lulled back into that sense of security.

it’s only when you spot scars, all faint and dim, a story, a chapter, marred across his figure, peeking out from underneath his shirt. a peek of his collarbone from a few loose buttons shows a strip of skin, starting from his shoulder blade and yet, not knowing where it ends. others as well, peppering from here and there, a few nicks that seems almost indistinct unless you know what you’re looking for.

of course, you shuffle a bit until the scar stands in front of you, and place a small kiss - it’s then that you feel him stiffen, his breath caught in his chest. he lets it out for it to only come off as breathless, a surprise puff of air that skims on embarrassment. and embarrassed he is, for his cheeks take on a crimson that fits him all the same.

kaeya.

a wintry puff of air drifts to the shell of your ear. you let it. it happens again. your brows furrow. it happens one more time. you pull the edges of the blanket overhead, and a muffled chuckle brings the room to life. a series of rustling ensues, that in the quiet, it sounds almost so and too much - you soon find that you’re not the only one hidden away underneath the thin cover of protection, from both the dawn and the cold.

a pair of lips that felt hot, yet cold all the same, pressed against your neck and a sigh left you at the prick of warmth shivering up your skin. his soft chuckle draws you from your daze, a carefree breath against your ear that drips with his usual allure. it wafts over to your lips where it met his - a slow exchange of heated breathes, and a small space of quiet names and murmurs.

until, there is no breath in either of your lungs, as you tug the blankets off of you both, letting the canvas of the day sift into the panels of the windows, bathed in a different type of warmth. as motes of dust floats around, you lie yourself on kaeya as his lips once more meets your skin - a chaste peck on the tip of your nose.

it still flusters you, as much as it amuses him as he chuckles, the sound pleasant and kind to the ears.

kazuha.

the tepidness of the morning does little to rouse you up. rather, it was the loose locks, splayed across the still surface of the pillows, that tickled you. your vision a bit hazy, trying to adjust to the sudden light, you only see what’s close to you - that is, kazuha soundly asleep, the occasional shift of his hands as he presses it in the small space between the two of you. be it a picture to capture a small, common moment as this, or a haiku to try and keep the feelings swaying in the air in words and letters, neither nor more will do justice to the sight that lies before you.

before you know it, your hands are already brushing his hair off to the side, tucking a few strands behind his ear for his own comfort and as lightly as you can to not rouse him awake. it’s only a few seconds in and that seems to be something to go awry, with your fingertips skimming his temple, and a sound humming in his chest. it’s then that his eyes flutter open, the light a bit too bright, aglow with the promise of a new day, before slowly adjusting to you.

and he smiles. he smiles a smile that seemed too soft, too tense, a phantom of all that is too kind living in the way his lips curved. one that is too tempting to kiss.

and so you did. (met with a surprised look, eyes slightly widened as his smile turns shy. welcomed into the realm of consciousness with a kiss - he finds that it’s quite cute.)

xiao.

a pair of piercing eyes is one of the first things you see, the settings a backdrop of melting canary and gold - it doesn’t compare to the shade of his irises, though, and you soon find yourself sleepily seeking it, a silent, slow moment of the morning spent on the crinkle of his eyes. it’s almost too soon that his skin starts to turn a faint pink, and that a sigh leaves his lips, as if to let go of the stress stiffening his shoulders. that alone sets a small smile on your face.

it’s that which prevents him from pulling away, from leaving a dent in the sheets next to you should he have left - it was a quiet yearning of his to see you smile, first thing in the morning. he has yet to understand that, out of anyone, anyone that would’ve fit with you as nicely, you decided that he was worth enough to become the very reason you light up.

for the day was already bright enough, with the sun sitting on the dot of the horizon, and you chose to brighten it up even more because of him. so he continues to stare at you, taking you in of this side of yours drawn out from the dark, the edges of the night left cornered in its crevices as you do the same.

(yes, even as his skin starts to heat up and that the smile on your lips grows in every second that it does.)

general taglist (open!) : @/zuyoo, @starz222, @haliyamori, @kazumist, @/tartaglia-apologist, @mikacynth, @angelkazusstuff, @doumalove, @kpop-and-otome, @emo-mess, @kissedbysilk . . .

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #albedo x reader #albedo x you #ayato x reader #ayato x you #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #childe x reader #childe x you #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x you #xiao x reader #xiao x you

[leiawritesstories]

queen's crown

rowaelin + kiddos // written for April microfics @throneofglassmicrofics using the prompt "Crown"

word count: 725

warnings: none :)

enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Staghorn Crown of Terrasen sat atop its emerald-green velvet pillow, the gold spires that resembled antlers jutting proudly up into the still, silent air of the throne room. At its center, the kingsflame bloom encased in crystal seemed almost to glow, the scarlet and crimson and orange of its petals radiating warmth and light.

The princess rose onto her tiptoes and fixed her wide-eyed gaze upon the crown, the pedestal just barely taller than her head. At the sound of footsteps entering the throne room, she startled, and her elbow knocked into the pedestal as she wobbled, trying to keep her balance.

She stared, her wonder turning to horror, as the crown tipped off of its cushion and tumbled towards the floor.

But a swift, wintry wind brushed through the throne room, caught the crown, and deposited it neatly back on its cushion, its tendrils wrapping carefully around the princess as she wobbled on the steps.

"Are you alright, little love?" Her father's voice, her father's wind.

Six-year-old Alanna Whitethorn Galathynius felt her lower lip shiver as the tears slowly spilled out of her eyes, the same bright pine as her father's. In an instant, her father was there, scooping her up into his arms, soothing her.

"I--I almost broke Mama's crown," Lana half-sobbed, burying her face in her dada's warm shoulder.

"Shh, little love, it's alright." Rowan carried Lana back to her rooms, where her mother was waiting, concern on her face. He kissed the top of his daughter's blonde head. "You know Mama and I would never let anything happen to you, Lana."

She sniffled. "I sorry, Mama."

Aelin took her daughter from her mate's arms, giving him a brief, tender look. "Lana, lovey, you mean so much more to me than that silly old crown." She cupped the little girl's face, meeting Lana's teary gaze with her own steady one. "Were you trying to see Mama's crown?"

Lana nodded. "Auntie El said you used to try and see it all the time when you were my age."

A distant, yearning smile slipped across Aelin's face. "That was...a very long time ago. I'm surprised she remembers." When she was a child, Aelin had often slipped into the throne room to stare at the crown from a distance, a memory she'd almost forgotten until her daughter brought it up.

Calming, Lana touched the bracelet that curled around Aelin's wrist, a smaller version of the crown with golden prongs like antlers. An everyday crown. "It matches."

"Yes, it does." Aelin kissed Lana's forehead. "Do you want to go see the crown, lovey?"

Lana's big green eyes lit up. "Yes!"

"Alright, then." Aelin stood up and took Lana's hand, and with Rowan at her back, ever the hovering buzzard, she led her daughter down to the throne room. Together, they walked across the quiet, shadowed expanse of the room, its soft darkness broken by the sunlight that streamed in through the arched windows along the walls.

At the front of the throne room, she lifted the crown's cushion off the pedestal, slowly knelt down in front of her daughter with a flicker of a grimace of discomfort, and set the cushion on the ground. Lana's expression widened with wonder as she clung to her mother's hand and stared at the crown.

Rowan knelt next to Aelin, concern creasing his face. "Are you sure you should be--"

"I'm fine, you overbearing buzzard," she sighed, one hand drifting to her very rounded stomach.

A tiny mirror of her father, Lana pressed both of her small hands to Aelin's bump. "Mama, baby?"

"Baby is just fine, lovey," Aelin promised. Gently, reverently, she lifted the crown from its cushion and raised it into the shaft of sunlight, causing light to radiate off of the kingsflame bloom. As her daughter and her mate watched, she carefully lowered it onto her head, feeling its familiar weight settle over her.

Lana stared raptly. "Mama so pretty," she murmured.

Aelin smiled as she lifted the crown off her head. "One day, my daughter, this will be yours." Lana held very still as Aelin placed the crown atop her small head, holding it in place so it didn't slip down the princess's face.

And the Queen of Terrasen looked at the future queen, her heart full to bursting at the sight of her family.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

@renxzs

#my writing #answered prompt #prompt fill #throne of glass microfics #throne of glass #queen of shadows #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin #awlin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #canon au #post canon au #rowaelin and kiddos #rowaelin babies

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited 17

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, oral/noncon, coercion, cum, some untagged sexual and dark elements.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Masterlist

The cold glass sends a shiver through you as you drag the plastic squeegee in straight lines to give a clear view of the lawn. Snowflakes fall lazily to the ground, sprinkling across the pale green of the frozen grass. The activity is monotonous if not painful as the muscles in your arms strain to reach the highest corner.

Irritated, you keep the clunky heel from slipping over the edge of the step stool. Lloyd’s insistence on the impractical grows irksome as you’re left prone to injury or a chill. You bend to set down the plastic wand, drying your hands with the cloth tucked into your apron as you gaze out across the wintry landscape.

Lloyd sucks his teeth as he interrupts the rare moment of peace and you wince as you peek over at him. The cut on his cheek has calmed, the purplish bruise faded to yellow. He drags his foot forward as he parts from the archway, casually strolling over in a pair of suede slippers and silk pajama pants.

“Don’t move, doll,” he warns as you hover a foot over the step down, “look at these windows. Crystal clear…” he comes up behind you and places his hands on your hips, his warmth seeping through the thin black dress, “feel like I can see the whole world just from here,” his fingers walk down the back of your skirt, “or maybe they can see us.”

He slowly raises the fabric and you shift. The brush of satin makes you shiver as it lets in another flow of cool air up your spine. You hold in a breath as he hums and leans in. All the tension of his previous mood is gone, the last days of tiptoeing through the silence float away.

“Mmm, damn this ass,” he spanks you and pushes your cheeks together. You exhale sharply and wave a hand back at him as you teeter on the stool, “now, now, baby, you know the deal.”

You steady yourself on the stool and stare ahead, “yes, daddy.”

“You’ve been spending too much time keeping this place clean when you should be gettin’ dirty,” he pinches your ass so you squeak, “don’t let me ruin your hard work, doll, I don’t wanna see a single handprint on that glass.

His hands wander down your thighs as he nudges them apart, slipping his fingers between your legs to tease your cunt. You bite your lip as he dips between your folds and presses firmly along your clit. Your thighs clench as your perilous stance has you uncertain, your shoes at the edge of the stool.

“I know you missed me,” he growls as he leans in and his breath fans up the curve of your ass, “you missed this, didn’t you, baby?”

His mustache tickles you as tension strains in your hips. He hums as he nuzzles between your legs and swipes his tongue down your cunt. You bend forward, opening yourself to him as you brace the slender frame between panes. You gasp as his coolness seeps into your warmth.

He purrs as he laps at you, deliberate, slow, winding you up as he rubs you with two fingers. He buries his face in your cunt as he drinks you in, his greediness sending heat across your thighs. Your lashes flutter at the swirling powder outside, your legs trembling against him.

Lloyd shifts, pulling his fingers up to your entrance and sinks into you, your walls squeezing him eagerly. Shame scalds your cheeks but not enough to make you stop him. You know you can’t. He buries his fingers to the knuckle and rocks his hand as the prickly fur of his mustache raises bumps along your skin.

The stool wobbles as he turns his hand to press his thumb to your clit, at the same time he swirls his tongue around your tight ring, his face firmly between your cheeks. Your hand nearly slips onto the spotless glass and you swallow up a moan. The battle of sensations has you quivering and weak.

He pokes his tongue against your ass, flicking up and around, a pressure building around his fingertips as he tilts his hands. Your cunt clings to him, a squelch keeping rhythm as he pushes you to the edge. Your calves ache as you stand further on your toes and the stool slips, your palms smudging the glass as you catch yourself against the window.

He tuts as he pulls away suddenly, leaving you cold and empty as he slides his fingers out of your cunt. He wipes them down your thigh before slapping your ass with his knuckles.

“Bad girl, making a mess,” he frames your hip and guides you backwards, down to solid ground, “let me give you something else to clean up.”

He pulls your hands behind you and walks you up to the window. He crushes your chest against the freezing pane and hooks his fingers around your wrists. Your breath fogs across the glass as he shimmies, his pajamas heaping at his ankles as he steps closer.

He enters you in a single motion, nearly knocking you out of your heels. You groan as he squeezes your wrists in his single hand and bucks, the window shaking perilously in the frame. He thrusts again, snapping his hips hard, a pang striking up your spine as you cry out. His other hand crawls up your arm and around your neck, spreading across your throat as he sets a harsh pace.

Your legs shake as he fucks you, breathing into your scalp with dark growls, pausing between each rut to feel you clench around him. He lets go of your arms and snakes his hand around your pelvis to toy with your clit once more.

“Now, baby, you gonna make a mess of the floor and the windows?” He taunts, “undoing all that hard work…”

You puff as your eyes roll back, the steady twirl of his fingertips robs you of all sense.

“Hmm, you gonna get down on your knees and scrub my floor once you cum all over them,” he snarls, “I’ll just have to fuck you again.”

You murmur as his grip tightens around your throat, your hand bracing the glass without care for the smeared print. You gulp and gasp as he works you expertly, ramming into you as he plays with your clit, pinching it between two fingers only to roll it beneath rough fingertips. 

You grasp his wrist unthinkingly as you feel the swell, your climax building around his dick as he rams deeper and harder. The crack of his pelvis against your ass echoes in the airy room as you arch your back and welcome him deeper. You choke on your voice as you cum, his fingers slickening as your release drips out around him.

“Dirty girl,” he sneers as he bows his head down, lips brushing against your shoulder, “you dirty fucking slut.”

He bites into you as he slams to his limit, crushing you flush to the window as he falls into a furious fit. He fucks you without restraint, choking your moans in his hand, another wave rolling through you. His teeth pinch your flesh and you wheeze against his grasp, quaking as another orgasm peaks.

He growls as your pelvis aches, ready to split in two as he hammers full force against you. You lean your head back and he unclamps his teeth, brushing his mustache up to your jaw. His motion stutters and he slips out, fucking between your thighs as he spasms. He cums down your leg, his load leaking past your knee.

“You still sad, baby face?” He purrs behind your ear, “‘cause I’ll fuck the sad right out of you.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #series #unsolicited #the gray man #the grey man

[ringneckedpheasant]

you were a low moon steady with wintry calm somewhere inside the fire of your youth went dark

#dragon age #technically. #da:i #dragon age: inquisition #lavellan #inquisitor lavellan #f!lavellan #marcusart #rhian lavellan #happy w how this turned out I love Textures #this is supposed to be pre-clan lavellan he’s in community college or smth

[wordsvomit101]

13. Chilled Romance

(1 year after the death of Mr. and Mrs. Lee)

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the snow-covered slopes of Elysian Gangchon Ski. The air was crisp and cold, with a light breeze that carried the scent of pine trees. The ski lifts were buzzing with activity as skiers and snowboarders, clad in brightly colored jackets and helmets, zipped past, making their way up the mountain. The snow glistened like a million tiny diamonds, reflecting the sunlight and creating a dazzling spectacle.

The crowd was a mix of families, couples, and friends. Children bundled up in snowsuits dashed about, their faces flushed with excitement. Young adults showed off their latest tricks on the slopes, while older couples enjoyed a leisurely day on the mountain.

The snow-covered trees formed a white forest that stretched as far as the eye could see, with distant mountains dusted in snow providing a picturesque backdrop for the ski resort.

Amidst this vibrant tapestry, Minhyeok and Raon stood out in their matching cobalt blue snowsuits. Minhyeok's brother had already disappeared into the more challenging terrain of the snowboarding course, his reserved attitude thrown to the wind as pure excitement lit up his face.

"Be careful out there, Hyunwoo!" their mom called after his brother as he took off.

Minhyeok's parents glided across the white expanse on their snowboards, wrapped snugly in layers of warm clothing. Effortlessly and with grace, they navigated the slopes at a leisurely pace, their movements synchronized as if they were performing a delicate dance. Despite the wintry chill, their faces glowed with comfortable peace as they kept a watchful eye on their children's progress. Engrossed in conversation, they appeared completely at ease, their quiet laughter mingling with the crisp mountain air. Their demeanor exuded a sense of quiet romance, as if they were on a private date in a bustling crowd, engrossed in each other's company. Their striking appearance, a blend of style and sophistication, caught the attention of onlookers who couldn't help but turn their heads to admire the scene unfolding before them.

Minhyeok was busy giving Raon a snowboarding lesson, guiding her through the basics. While Minhyeok and his family were seasoned snowboarders, Raon was a first-timer, her movements tentative as she struggled to maintain her balance.

"Okay, Raon, first things first, find your balance," Minhyeok instructed, his voice calm and reassuring. "Imagine you're standing on a surfboard on snow." He demonstrated by shifting his weight smoothly from side to side, gliding effortlessly on his board.

Raon nodded nervously, feeling the weight of the snowboard beneath her feet. "Alright, got it. But this feels way different than surfing, and you know I'm not good at that either!" Her expression betrayed her uncertainty, and Minhyeok was convinced she probably already wanted to retreat to their hotel room and bury herself in bed again.

Not about to let her give up, Minhyeok replied cheerfully, "Yeah, it's a bit different, but you've got this!" He gestured for her to mimic his movements. "Now, try shifting your weight from side to side. That's it, nice and easy," he praised as she clumsily replicated him. Her efforts were endearing, reminding him of how his Eomma had taught him.

Taking a deep breath, Raon attempted to follow Minhyeok's next instructions. With each movement, Minhyeok gently guided her, his hands hovering near her waist to offer support. But as she shifted her weight, she couldn't help but wobble precariously and let out a yelp.

"Whoa, whoa! Easy there!" Minhyeok steadied her gently, his touch light yet firm. "Don't worry, it's all part of the learning process. I would've already smothered my face into the snow by now when I was like you, so you're doing great!" He tried to cheer her up and get closer to her just in case. "Try to relax and go with the flow, okay?"

Raon's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she frowned. "Easier said than done... Sorry, you don't have to—" Before she could finish, Minhyeok gave her his most pitiful eyes and pout, a trick he had learned she was somehow weak to. "... Ah... Haha! I mean, I'm willing to give it another shot!" She laughed nervously and looked away from him. He snickered as he saw her red ears but kept it to himself, knowing she would actually throw him down if he called her out on it.

"Hehe, that's the spirit! Let's try again, shall we?"

With Minhyeok's encouragement, Raon made another attempt, this time more cautiously. However, maintaining her balance proved to be a challenge. Minhyeok moved alongside her, mirroring her movements with ease as he provided gentle guidance and patient corrections.

"This is ridiculous," Raon said, struggling to stay upright as she occasionally held onto his shoulder. "Min, how do you make it look so easy?"

"Well, you could say I'm just naturally talented," Minhyeok replied, his tone dramatically reassuring. He laughed when he received a slap on his right shoulder, continuing to demonstrate the proper technique. "But honestly, you just need time and more practice. Take it easy; it's for fun, after all."

Raon let out a frustrated sigh. "But I feel like I'm never going to get it right!... Maybe I should just stick to building snowmen."

"Hey, don't give up just yet!" Minhyeok encouraged, recalling something she had said during a theater play they went to last month with their friends. Flashing her a grin, he added, "Who knows? Once you get there, you might be the one to carry me if an accident happens." He didn't know why she was so interested in making the female characters in her writing the more dominant ones in the relationships or being the "man" in it, but if it was her preference, he wouldn't question it too much. It was unexpectedly beneficial right now when he glanced at Raon's face and saw her excited and blooming expression as if she were promised her favorite book by Santa.

Trying to hide her eagerness, she tentatively asked, "You think so?" Her eyes widened, and her grin grew. It was cute, so he answered, "Yes, so let's try again, okay?"

With that, vigor returned to Raon as her entire body seemed energized just by the thought of guiding him. She proudly nodded. "Alright, fine. But if I faceplant in the snow one more time, I'm calling it quits!"

Minhyeok chuckled and gave her another promise. "Great! Now, let's try that turning technique again. Remember, lean into it and trust your instincts. I'll make you hot chocolate with cream later."

"Deal!" she replied, speeding up and then wobbling again as he caught up to her.

With Minhyeok's guidance, Raon made another attempt at turning. Once again, she stumbled and nearly fell. Minhyeok swiftly moved to catch her, his movements fluid and precise, before helping her regain her balance.

However, Raon's perseverance finally paid off after 2 hours. With each attempt, her movements became more fluid, and her balance more stable. She managed to conquer the slopes one turn at a time, leaning into the curves with confidence as her body responded instinctively to the rhythm of the mountain.

Minhyeok's gaze lingered upon Raon with fondness, noting her newfound fluidity with each descent. A bright smile radiated across both of their faces, unaware of its pleasant effect upon the hearts of the onlookers.

"Look at you go, Raon!" Minhyeok cheered, his voice ringing out against the snowy expanse. "You're a natural!"

Raon beamed with joy at his words as she carved another turn, her confidence soaring with each passing moment, a smug smile upon her lips and feeling the moment.

'She probably feels like those main characters in comics and anime. Cute,' Minhyeok thought to himself.

"Again?" he called out.

"Again!" her once downbeat voice now full of energy.

As they reached the top of the slope and prepared to disembark from the chairlift, Minhyeok's snowboard suddenly hit a small bump in the snow, causing him to lose his balance. He stumbled forward, his arms windmilling as he struggled to stay upright, about to fall back when he felt an arm hugging his waist from behind.

"Geez, look who's the clumsy one between us now?"

As he peered up into Raon's countenance, he could hear his own heartbeat pounding thunderously within his ears. Her lips were curved into a mischievous yet haughty smirk, while her gaze held an odd weightiness as she peered down at him. There was an undeniable attraction to her features, an almost handsome quality that added an intriguing layer to her action... Oh.

'Oh, so this is what she means,' Minhyeok thought to himself.

In a burst of laughter, Raon grabbed onto Minhyeok's arm to steady him and prevent him from falling. Her grip was firm as she started to guide him safely down the path. She looked back at him mischievously. "Hold onto me, my lady. Can't have you eating snow on your way down."

He blinked his wide eyes and could feel the heat rise up to his cheeks. The cold air around them was a stark contrast to the warmth of his embarrassment.

"Mm," Minhyeok murmured quietly, then held onto her hand tighter, looking down at their jointed hands and letting his silence convey his feelings as he blushed. Surprised when she didn't hear his retort, he also didn't know why she continued the silence when she looked back at him.

"..."

"...?"

"D-Do you not like it?" her nervous voice broke the tense stillness between them. She tried to peer up at his face, her own scrunched up in a mixture of worry and anticipation, her height around the same as his so she had to bend a little bit.

"No, no, it- it's not that," Minhyeok stammered, feeling even more silly and flustered by the revelation he had just made. His face turned a shade of crimson that would rival those fresh tomatoes his Eomma bought at the supermarket. His cheeks burned, and his heart pounded like a drum in his chest.

"I... I like it," Minhyeok murmured quietly, his voice almost lost in the crisp mountain air.

Raon's eyes widened in confusion as she looked at him, her cheeks now flushed with a rosy hue, perhaps from the cold. "What?" she asked, her tone laced with surprise.

Minhyeok's gaze briefly met hers before he quickly averted his eyes, a shy smile playing at the corners of his lips. "It's nothing! Let's go back. Come on!" he exclaimed, reaching out to take her hand as they glided back down the slope together.

"Huh? Hey! What did you mean by that?!" Raon protested, her voice carrying a mixture of curiosity and exasperation as she tried to keep up with his pace. But Minhyeok only laughed in response. "Really, it's nothing," his gaze fixed ahead as they made their way down.

"I just thought about making hot chocolate for us, that's all."

"Really? Yay! - Wait, don't change the subject here!" Raon exclaimed, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of excitement before realization hit her, and she looked back at him in annoyance. Yet, she couldn't help but smile despite his attempt to divert her attention. The biting cold of winter seemed to melt away as laughter bubbled from Minhyeok's lips, his eyes dancing with amusement as they navigated the snowy slopes together.

'Let's hope she doesn't pound me too much for an answer this movie night,' Minhyeok thought to himself, a grin playing on his lips.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

End Notes:

Elysian Gangchon Ski Resort is a popular ski resort located in Chuncheon, South Korea. It offers a variety of slopes suitable for skiers and snowboarders of all levels, from beginners to advanced. The resort features modern facilities, including ski lifts, rental equipment, and accommodations. Additionally, it boasts picturesque views of the surrounding mountains and offers various amenities such as restaurants, cafes, and shops. Elysian Gangchon Ski Resort is known for its convenient location near Seoul, making it a popular destination for locals and tourists alike during the winter season.

#whb #whb minhyeok #whb mc #whb oc #now this is probably the last fluff I would write for these two for a while #time for the angst #thank god my friend talk me through it to make my plot more cohesive #will get more of raon's pov in the future

[just-here-for-the-moment]

The Escape

This grew out of an unhinged convo that @deadhumourist and I had over DMs ages ago. Now that it’s wintertime and very cold where I am, I decided to write it up for her. Hope the rest of you enjoy it as well!

Word count: 1400

Rating: Mature, 18+ only (no minors)

Outline: Old West AU? Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x You (race-neutral, blank slate female reader insert; no racial description, no physical description, no name, no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Yearning and anticipation on both sides; mentions of Jack rescuing you and helping you to escape from some kind of vague danger; Jack affectionately nicknames you “Bluebonnet”; mutual lusty pining; both characters imagining “what if”; mentions and imaginings of sex acts; cranking up the heat on this wintry day

***

The mustang’s hooves clop slowly across the hard ground as Jack guides you to safety through the barren forest. The dry, frozen air of mid-winter makes the sound seem louder than it is, echoing off nearby trees and bouncing back to your ears.

Your focus shifts as your heart rate slows. The adrenaline from Jack scooping you up onto his horse has dribbled out of your veins, bleeding into a numb calmness as he puts distance between you and your hard circumstances.

Your hand aches, clutching at the rough, wool saddle blanket that Jack had wrapped around you both, ordering you to keep it closed for warmth as his rough breath warmed your ear. The sharp, direct order had cut through your fear and you had followed his directions to the letter. You kept the blanket closed over your sternum tightly. An hour into the journey and your fingers were aching, but you refused to let go. You wanted Jack to be proud of you for following his order, for keeping his arms warm and his hands free so that he could steer properly. You wanted to be smart and useful to him.

You tried to ignore the gentle rocking of his thighs against yours where they cupped you, holding you steady on his mount. After everything, you are shocked that your mind is wandering to such lusty images, and you attempt to chastise yourself out of thinking about such things…but the rough denim of his pants conceals a bulge that rocks gently against your ass with every step the horse takes.

For his part, Jack is fighting lusty thoughts of his own. As his breath slows and the horse’s gallop changes to a saunter, Jack tries to ignore the soft curves of your hips under your long winter skirts, and the summery scent of your perfume… delectable notes of lily of the valley and rose that waft up from the heat of your body and tickle his nose. 

It makes him want to find a safe haven, some little culvert or cabin where he can build a fire and put the thick, warm blanket to better use, perhaps as a bed where he can take you gently and show you what good love is supposed to be… if you’ll have him. Maybe after what you’ve been through, he shouldn’t be thinking such things, but the rage that flared in his gut at seeing you in need of rescue has boiled down to a simmer, and he needs to let off steam one way or another. 

He clears his throat and reassures you, “Won’t be much longer now, Bluebonnet.”

“Why do you call me that?” 

“Your scarf,” he brings his left hand gently up to your face and tugs affectionately on the fabric that you’ve wrapped over your head and knotted under your chin, hoping to keep some warmth around your ears. 

“You were wearing this the first day I saw you. Same color as a field full of Texas bluebonnets.” Then, as if that’s all that needs to be said, he trails off into silence. 

You reach back in your mind and try to remember that day, but the time and distance from that moment make things fuzzy. You remember cradling your hard-won harvest of berries in your scarf, tied around your waist like an apron as you emerged from the edge of the forest. And on the road were Jack and another man riding toward town, the sun beating down on the brims of their hats, shadows obscuring their faces. 

If you had been prescient of everything that would transpire between that moment and now, you’re not sure if you would have done things any differently. 

It all ended up with you here, feeling the warmth of Jack’s body against your back, the muscles of his thighs as they tense and squeeze against yours. He’s more relaxed than when the first lengths of galloping put distance between you and that terrible town, but his breath still comes in heavy sighs, and you can tell he’s holding something back. 

“S’that all it was? The color?” You chide yourself internally for sounding hard, ungrateful for the compliment in how he compared you to a pretty sight from his home state. 

You hear Jack’s breath hitch, and then his voice comes deeper, tickling down your neck in warm puffs and up your spine in electric zig zags. “And your strength.”

You think that’s all he’s going to say, but then Jack surprises you, adding, “They go to seed, dig themselves into the dirt in th’ autumn… they grow best in hard soil, rocky places… they bide their time, gettin’ strong all winter, an’ in springtime they bloom blue and pretty and soft… whole waves of ‘em, far as the eye can see.” 

He ends it there, and your mind reels. 

This man sees you… you wonder at that, and your normally quick tongue is stunned into silence as your brain picks over all the golden threads he’s just revealed. You follow the words with your mind, chasing them around in your brain as the horse slows, then stops. 

There’s a clearing just ahead, and Jack turns the mustang slightly sideways, assessing whether it’s safe or dangerous before he approaches any further. His breath comes hot and hard against your ear through the thin material of your scarf, and you fight a whine when his left arm grips you tight around your middle. 

His hand drifts down to your left hip, and he squeezes you hard: a silent message to keep still as he shifts, perhaps making moves to dismount. You want to squirm and rub yourself against the saddle, give yourself friction and action to combat the heavy silence and the frozen air. Your heart is beating so hard you want to faint. 

You breathe in a slow drag through your nose, and that makes it worse. You can smell frost and leather and the living animal underneath you, and layered in with everything is him… smoky, manly soap and fresh sweat and his morning coffee. You turn your face away from the clearing and tuck your ear against his shoulder, and lean into the comforting warmth of Jack as he guards you and protects you. 

Jack watches the clearing and sees a slight movement and he freezes, his massive hand grips your hip harder, and you forget yourself long enough that a small, “Mmh,” escapes your lips before you stuff it back down. 

Your bitten-off moan coincides with Jack’s realization that the movement is a deer, seeking leaves where none have been for weeks, and he relaxes with a chuckle. His laugh vibrates through his chest, pressed against your back, and you exhale a sigh of relief. 

Jack’s distraction subsides and a puzzle piece falls into place. Your noise, that mewl when he gripped your hip through your skirts, and the slight shift of your hips… Jack knows what desire looks like and sounds like from a woman, and he’s happy he hasn’t been nursing a one-sided infatuation. The minute he gets you to safety he’s finding the softest bed and the warmest fire, and he’s going to make sure you don’t have to muffle those noises. He wants them all, just for himself, and he’s damned if he’ll let you hide them from him again. 

You turn as far around as you can and lift your eyes to look at Jack, and when your eyes meet you can’t breathe all over again. 

Jack’s deep brown eyes are boring into you intently, and you wonder if he’s thinking about the same things you are… how all you want to do is nuzzle the tip of your nose into the little hollow just under his earlobe and trail it up to his sideburns, because you know that that's where a man smells the most like himself. You want to brush your lips over the stubble that's dusted over the curve of his jaw, feel the contrast of it against your soft lips… press a kiss into the skin of his throat and feel his heartbeat as it moves blood through his jugular before you flick the tip of your tongue out to taste the salt of his skin… but you can’t, because you're still fleeing everything that he's rescued you from. 

You’re grateful for that, but you're so desperately aroused and so tired from running that all you want to do is turn and sit sideways across his lap, snuggle into him for warmth and safety and let him hold you and fuck you until you fall asleep. 

The moment passes, and Jack flicks his eyes toward the clearing before prompting the horse with his heels. 

“Won’t be far now, Bluebonnet, I promise.”

You turn your face toward the future, and let Jack guide you there. 

***

#jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #race-neutral fics #poc friendly fanfic #poc friendly #fanfic for everyone #race-neutral reader insert #race neutral reader insert #race neutral fanfic

[galactic-dragoness]

Paraglider

The two mammals burst the doors of the mountain stronghold open. They sprint across the snowy plateau of the summit.

Behind them, the stronghold’s guards pursue the duo, but are much slower given the equipment strapped to their bodies.

“This way! The snow mobile’s right around the corner!”

But as soon as the raccoon man says that, he turns the corner and sees the vehicle destroyed.

“...Oh crap…”

The yelling behind the raccoon and the fox gradually increases in volume.

The thief looks around frantically, and turns to the cliff side of the wintry mountain. Then, a light-bulb goes off in his brain.

He rips off his small backpack and takes out a large, tightly folded piece of nylon.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” The raccoon asks again, his tone more stern.

“Honestly? No.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to if you don’t want to become a popsicle.”

“...Ringtail?”

He extends his arms, his hands gripping the strings of the nylon item.

“Carmelita, if you want to live, hold onto me now.”

“What the fu-”

“NOW!”

The vixen turns behind her, the voices of the guards getting louder.

Reason flung aside, the Inspector jumps into the thief’s arms.

“Hang on tight.”

Carmelita grips the back of his shirt and wraps her legs around his waist. He suddenly sprints to the edge of the cliff.

“Cooper!?!”

He ignores her horrified yell, and he jumps.

The vixen wants to scream as she falls with him, but her teeth are glued shut from the shock of the abrupt dive.

Suddenly, the nylon item unfurls above them and transforms into some sort of parachute.

The rapid descent turns into a calm, steady float downwards. The Inspector’s eyes are as wide as dinner plates as she looks around.

The scenery is...unexplainable. The two of them gently sway in the air, away from the mountain into the Swiss valley.

Carmelita breathes as if she’s suffocating, and looks down, which proves to be a mistake.

She screws her eyes shut and grips the raccoon tighter.

“Don’t worry,” he laughs. “I gotcha.”

“How in the hell are you laughing this off?”

“You’ve never done this before?”

“Done what? Toying with certain death??”

“Well, besides that, I meant parachuting. Doesn’t Interpol have parachuting classes or something?”

“Ringtail, I am Detective Inspector, not a secret agent.”

He chuckles. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Carmelita keeps her eyes shut and rests her head on his shoulder, the cold wind whipping her braided hair.

After a few more minutes of gliding, the vixen begins to relax, just a little.

She doesn’t want to open her eyes, so she tries to focus on something else.

He smells nice.

The intrusive thought makes the young fox’s internal temperature spike. She quickly shoves the idea in a dark corner of her brain.

“My paraglider isn’t designed for two, so we’re actually falling a little faster than usual.”

Carmelita doesn’t reply.

“Maybe I’ll ask Bentley to design a bigger one, just in case this happens again.”

“NO. No way. This will NEVER happen again. I’ll make sure to it.”

He laughs again, and she feels very, very warm.

Eventually, the green and white valley begins to get closer and closer. After a few more minutes, Sly speaks.

“Brace yourself.”

The two of them tumble in the grass on a hill as they land. After a few seconds of silence, Sly speaks again.

“Carmelita?”

“Wh-What?”

“You...can let go of me now.”

The Inspector’s eyes snap open and she quickly untangles from the raccoon thief. She carefully gets up from the ground, her breathing coming in rapid bursts.

Sly says nothing, he just gazes at Carmelita, with a wide grin on his face.

“What are you grinning at?”

“Nothing. You’re just cute.”

“Oh, screw you.”

She turns around and marches down the hill.

“Aren’t you going to capture me?”

“After today??? Forget it. I’ve already had enough excitement for a lifetime.”

He laughs, Carmelita walks a little faster.

“See you next time, ‘Lita.”

“Not for a long time. I’m taking immediate vacation when I get back to Paris.”

His laughter erupts, and it echoes across the valley.

Something inside the vixen swells upon hearing his laughter.

(She’ll never tell him.)

#sly cooper #carmelita fox #slyfox #slyfox week 2022

[nyxjustnyx]

"Whispers in the Snow: A Chance Encounter"

Nyx found herself standing outside a quaint London bar, enveloped by the serenity of snowflakes cascading from the heavens. Yet, amidst this tranquil scene, her mind remained a whirlwind of thoughts, a tempest she struggled to calm. Having recently crossed continents from the vast expanse of Canada to the bustling streets of Europe, she felt the weight of cultural disparities bearing down upon her, leaving her feeling adrift in a sea of unfamiliarity.

As she stood, lost in contemplation, the subtle crunch of snow beneath her feet heralded the approach of Ominis. His gaze, momentarily diverted from the bar's entrance, fell upon Nyx, a solitary figure amidst the wintry landscape, her thoughts seemingly a world away. Intrigued, he extended a small gesture of hospitality, proffering a cigarette with a quizzical arch of his brow, accompanied by the offer of a light. "Care for one?" he inquired politely, his breath forming ephemeral puffs in the frosty air. Taking a moment to observe her, he noted the telltale signs of weariness etched upon her countenance, the faint tremor betraying her efforts to retain composure in the biting cold. "Forgive the intrusion, but it's rather chilly tonight," he ventured, attempting to bridge the gap between their solitary existences.

Though Nyx remained silent, she accepted the offered cigarette, allowing him to ignite it with a flicker of flame. Her gaze remained fixed upon the dimly lit alleyway ahead, seemingly detached from the interaction unfolding beside her.

After lighting her cigarette, Ominis indulged in another puff himself, releasing a slow, steady breath of smoke into the crisp winter air. Sensing Nyx's hesitation to engage, he chose to tread gently, leaning in slightly closer, his arm finding a casual perch on the railing behind her. Speaking softly, mindful not to disrupt her fragile equilibrium, he offered reassurance, "It's perfectly fine if you prefer silence over conversation. Sometimes, it's the quiet moments that offer the greatest solace." His gaze shifted briefly to her face, registering her response before returning to the enchanting dance of snowflakes swirling around them. Drawing from his cigarette once more, he continued, "But should you ever desire a listening ear or the warmth of companionship, I'm here. No strings attached."

Nyx, momentarily caught off guard by his unexpected kindness, leaned into the railing, allowing his presence to wash over her like a gentle breeze. With a contemplative drag from her cigarette, she turned her gaze to meet his, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Why extend such generosity to a stranger?" she pondered aloud, her tone softened by the delicate interplay of snowfall around them. Briefly captivated by the sincerity etched upon his features, she took another drag, exhaling a wisp of smoke before allowing her attention to drift back to the hypnotic allure of the winter night.

As Nyx posed her question, Ominis arched an eyebrow, intrigued by her curiosity. He took a moment to study her face, his gaze lingering thoughtfully before he offered his response. "Well, to be honest, there's a certain ease in extending courtesy to strangers compared to those we're intimately acquainted with," he admitted, drawing from his cigarette once more, the wisps of smoke curling gracefully into the night air. "And there's something about the stillness of the night that fosters introspection, a sense of openness that I find refreshing. Besides," he added with a wry smile, "after a day spent sparring with politicians or confined to the confines of my office, a reprieve from the usual chaos is a welcome change."

Caught off guard by her spontaneous chuckle, Nyx hastily covered her mouth, a sheepish grin tugging at her lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh," she apologized, her laughter laced with surprise at her own reaction. Drawing in a lungful of smoke, she held it momentarily before exhaling slowly. "So, your reasons are entirely self-serving then? Just seeking a moment of relaxation after a taxing day?" she mused, a playful glint dancing in her eyes.

Ominis accepted Nyx's smile with a casual shrug, reciprocating her warmth with an easy grin. "Selfish indeed. Who wouldn't crave a bit of respite from the never-ending theatrics of politics?" he concurred, his tone light as he drew once more from his cigarette, the ember glowing softly in the night's embrace. His gaze lingered on her, finding solace in the gentle luminescence of her eyes cast beneath the flickering streetlamp.

Nyx's smile broadened, genuine and unguarded, as she unconsciously leaned closer to him, her curiosity unabated. "And you'd rather seek solace in the company of strangers in a dimly lit alley than in the embrace of family and friends?" she queried, her voice tinged with intrigue, her proximity an unspoken invitation.

Savouring the scent of her perfume, a delicate blend of vanilla and cinnamon that enveloped him, Ominis met her gaze with a thoughtful pause, exhaling a plume of smoke into the frigid air. "Honestly, there's a certain allure in conversing with someone untainted by the weight of familiarity," he confessed, his expression earnest as he regarded her. "Someone unburdened by the expectations of perfection or the constraints of preconceived notions." His gaze softened as it traced the contours of her face, drawn to the effortless intimacy between them. "And the prospect of encountering new perspectives, new stories—it's what keeps life intriguing, don't you think?" he ventured, a spark of curiosity igniting within him, mirroring the glow of the streetlamp above.

Caught in the intimate space between them, Nyx's cheeks flushed crimson, betraying the rush of emotions coursing through her. Despite her embarrassment, she found herself unable to retreat, captivated by the magnetic pull of their shared conversation.

"I have to agree. Family dynamics can be… exhausting," Nyx confessed, her voice laced with a mixture of resignation and humor. "That's why I ran away," she added with a self-deprecating chuckle, her laughter tinged with uncertainty.

Her attempt at levity hung in the air, punctuated by an awkward laugh, and Ominis couldn't help but be charmed by her vulnerability. His smile, gentle and reassuring, mirrored her own, his gaze softening as he met her eyes with understanding. He found her endearing, and for a moment, he considered reaching out and brushing his fingers through her hair or touching her cheek gently with his fingertips. But then he reminded himself that he shouldn't get too comfortable or familiar too quickly. After all, she might not appreciate it.

Ominis nodded in empathetic agreement, his expression reflecting a shared sentiment. "Running away does sound tempting at times," he acknowledged, his tone tinged with a hint of wistfulness. Pausing to draw from his cigarette once more, he released a stream of smoke into the wintry night, watching as it dissipated into the ether and then flicking the ash into the snow below them.

Nyx's eyes sparkled with appreciation at Ominis's laughter, her confidence buoyed by their lighthearted exchange. With a playful wink, she assured him, "I'll be sure to keep you updated on my great escape," eliciting another chuckle from him.

Glancing at her watch, Nyx sighed, realizing the lateness of the hour and the pressing need to return to her hotel. "I'm sorry, I must be going. Thank you for the company," she expressed with a hint of regret, extinguishing her cigarette with a practiced motion, her smile apologetic yet genuine.

Ominis nodded in understanding, his laughter lingering in the crisp night air as he watched her prepare to depart. "It was a pleasure conversing with you, Stranger," he quipped, admiring the determination etched upon her features, a testament to her resilience and purpose.

As Nyx began to walk away, Ominis felt an unexpected impulse stir within him, prompting him to call out to her before she disappeared into the night. "Wait!" he exclaimed, hastening to catch up with her. Retrieving a business card from his pocket, he extended it to her with a flourish, his gesture imbued with sincerity. "Here's my number. If ever you find yourself in need of conversation or companionship, don't hesitate to reach out," he offered earnestly, his gaze meeting hers with unwavering assurance.

#reading #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writerscommunity #writers and poets #oneshot #short #cozy #warm and cozy #snow #nyx #long reads #bookblr #books #books and reading #book lover #night #night reading

[itismissswann]

@black-pearls-captain  || continued from here

Jack was slightly drunk already, but the cool breeze blowing in from the cove helped him sober up somewhat. Fresh air felt great after leaving the crowded and noisy tavern. He was thinking of maybe rowing around the cove with Elizabeth as company as a pleasant way to end the evening, strictly as friends, maybe, seeing how Elizabeth was now a married woman, and royalty amongst the pirates, no less. She was king now, and even Jack wouldn’t dare to cross the Pirate King. He was unpredictable, true, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“The rumors are true… indeed, I’m looking for the Fountain of Youth, love.” Jack said, as they walked down the shore. “I happen to have the means to find it. There is a map. But that isn’t all… my father… er, Captain Teague says I have to find this Ponce de Leon guy’s ship, and two silver chalices which happen to be aboard said ship.” he paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow.

“Why do you ask, though? You want to join me on this journey? Or… aha!” realization dawned on him. “You want to find a way to free dear William from being the Dutchman’s captain, is that it? The Fountain isn’t the answer to that, unfortunately… but there might be a way…” Jack trailed off, looking out over the calm water of the cove. “Yes, there is a way. The trident of Poseidon could break the curse. The problem is finding it, however. It was hidden away a long time ago, so no human could ever find it again.”

Jack’s slightly drunken stagger and flailing hand gestures made him appear even more unfocused, but even in this state he managed to keep up with the conversation fairly easily. Many had underestimated the captain’s intelligence but Elizabeth had seen how he could outmaneuver his enemy with his words. Even now she was, once again, impressed with the information he provided, but even more impressed because he managed to figure out her motives so easily.

“Poseidon?” Elizabeth questioned, curiosity flaring in her eyes. “Lord of the sea?” She had read the tales about the Greek god presiding over the sea, storms and earthquakes. He was on of the twelve Olympians in ancient Greek religion and mythology. Among many he was seen as the protector of seafarers and the guardian of many Hellenic cities. But when the god was offended or ignored, he supposedly struck the ground with his trident and caused chaotic springs, drownings and shipwrecks.

“I thought the tales about the trident were mere myths,” Elizabeth began and continued to stroll along the shore. With the setting sun came a sky of fire, the orange of every wintry hearth. It was the battle cry to the gathering night, that the only achievement of darkness is to show starlight all the more clearly. “but if it is real,”  Her eyes were steady to the horizon, face aglow with the last orange rays before twilight beckoned the stars. “... It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. It’s madness.”

Then it occurred to her. She turned, forcing Jack to halt his steps. Her eyes dropped towards Jack’s trousers.  There it was, closed and tied to his sheath buckle. The compass. “Does it still point to the thing you want most in your life?” Her lips held a faint smile and her eyes twinkled.

#Jack & Elizabeth #The Trident

[snowy-waffles]

"You, your majesty,"

Unburdened by the lethal cold he stalks to the king who in turn does the complete opposite.

"Disgust me."

The king staggers backwards as if he just got burned. With the rapidly rising temperature caused by the furious knight confidently striding closer to him.

The king as nowhere to go.

Trapped between the ice cold wall of his own creation and the fiery knight with looks that could literally kill.

Flustered, the king is completely powerless. Even more so when the knight traps him against the wall with each of his hands.

The knight hold no fear of the king's coldness while doing so with trained focus.

The king on the other hand, is distracted by the trail of piping hot smoke escaping the knight's lips. Then it suddenly hit the king. The knight infront of him is abnormal like him. Not someone who can command the cold and snow like him but the blazing heat of fire.

The knight's words fall on deaf ears.

Their is someone with resistance to his cold. Someone the king can touch, hold without worrying of hurting them.

The king's heart feels like it can burst from his chest.

CRACK...

A sharp intake of breath can be heard from the king as he finally get's shaking back to reality by a loud sound.

The knight had cracked the wall underneath one of his hands, having enough of the king's wandering thoughts.

Wintry eyes meet the blazing ones of the knight. The former breath got caught.

The king is completely taken aback by the knight's eyes. Reminiscent of a burning camp fire, and quite also literally glowing as one.

Calm. Steady.

The king can not take his eyes of them.

Without a second thought, the king swiftly leans in, planning to have meet the knight's lips with his own.

A reckless action that the king formerly would have never dreamt of doing.

Only the king had not taking in account the knight's skill(s) and experience which far succeeds his own.

Both in battle prowess and his unfortunate experience of evading social interactions.

With fast movements, the knight has thrown his head slightly backwards while using his free hand to push the king away from.

A tad to harshly so it seems from the pained groan that escapes the king's mouth covered by the knight's hand.

Wide eyes the knight looks at the king completely stupefied.

-writting and edited on 29/7/2022 and 30/7/2022-

#short story #writing #my writing #original story #any criticism is welcome #any writing tips is welcome #I wrote this while being very very tired #I also edited it myself

[ofstrongsong]

tag drop.

#( * visage | crooked grins & careful hands & eyes the color of dawn ) #( * muse | and i'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope ) #( * aesthetic | you were a low moon; steady with wintry calm ) #( * answers | the objects you hold dear are vessels for grander ideas ) #( * the vale | in the misty east a tranquil land of black soil; slow moving rivers; and small lakes that shone like mirrors in the sun )

[sempitcrnus]

tag drop;

#( * muse | i have pasts inside me i did not bury properly. ) #( * aesthetic | you were a low moon; steady with wintry calm. ) #( * headcannon | memories do not always soften with time; some grow edges like knives. ) #( * visage | crooked grins & careful hands & eyes the color of earth. )

[sallysoot]

୧  TAG & WORKS MASTERLIST  ☆ ╮

welcome to my masterlist! | ( updated 06/30/2022 ) unless specified otherwise, all works have a gender neutral reader!

TAGLIST

bangin’ authors | bangin’ artists | memes asks | qna | my writing

MULTI-CHAPTER WORKS

invention of a legend. [ god!technoblade x reader ] - discontinued imagen de espejo. [ mirror AU / quackity x reader ] - discontinued a vessel of wasted potential. [ simpbur x reader ] - discontinued

ONESHOTS & FICLETS

to athena. [ technoblade x reader ] - second person, 1.4k ‘til the end of the line. [ sam x reader ] - second person, 0.8k  amor eres tú, solo tú. [ technoblade x reader ] - techno pov, 0.5k daniel in the den. [ techno x reader ] - second person, 1.3k home is where the heart is. [ technoblade x reader ] - second person, 1.7k the lovers’ waltz. [ dream x fem!princess!reader ] - third person, 1.8k some songs are angry. [ technoblade x reader ] - second person, 0.7k trust me. [ yandere!schlatt x reader ] - schlatt pov, 0.4k alone and steady, wintry calm. [ wilbur x reader ] - second person, 0.7k tending to the wound. [ technoblade x reader ] - second person, 0.5k mythology buff. [ platonic!technoblade x reader ] - second person, 0.3k the wake. [ philza x reader ] - second person, 1.4k raindrops on roses. [ skeppy x bad x reader ] - second person, 0.5k sweetheart grip. [ wilbur x reader ] - second person, 0.8k a lesson in hubris. [ technoblade x reader ] - second person, 0.6k familiar stranger. [ technoblade x reader ] - second person, 1.5k heart for hearth. [ philza x reader ] - second person, 0.4k mwah! [ dream x reader ] - second person, 0.3k winter hospitality. [ technoblade x reader ] - techno pov, 1.3k it’s a conversation. [ jaeger pilot!philza x reader ] - second person, 3.3k you’re still stuck in my song. [ stalker!wilbur x reader ] - second person, 2.7k objective complete. [ jack manifold x reader ] - second person, 0.7k your eyes pull me under. [ wilbur x reader ] - second person, 0.5k

DRABBLES [ ALL 100 WORDS ]

it’s always you. [ techno x reader ] beyond the frightful weather. [ technoblade x reader ] getting to the point. [ technoblade x reader ] the last time. [ niki x reader ] five more minutes? [ schlatt x reader ] sweet things. [ quackity x reader ] a promise unbroken. [ technoblade x reader ] the boy with the flaxen hair. [ dream x reader ] first, never the last. [ dream x reader ] goodnight, stellaluna. [ father!phil x reader ] food & wine. [ phil x reader ] if the breeze won’t blow your way… [ quackity x reader ] something about us. [ dream x reader ] helping hand. [ technoblade x reader ] before the curtain falls. [ wilbur x reader ] one lifetime with you. [ technoblade x reader ] battle scars. [ technoblade x reader ] closing early. [ schlatt x male!reader ]  prized. [ yandere!dreamXD x reader ] faithless. [ technoblade x cassandra!reader ] the eye of the beholder. [ phil x artist!reader ]

HEADCANONS

baking date [ niki x reader ] affectionate reader headcanons [ dream x reader ] yandere headcanons [ dream x reader ] yandere affection headcanons [ dream x reader ] poly headcanons [ dream x reader x technoblade ] platonic jealousy [ technoblade x reader ] yandere headcanons [ ghostbur x reader ] comfort headcanons [ quackity x reader ] wing headcanons [ quackity x reader ] crushin’ headcanons [ technoblade x reader ] yandere headcanons [ sapnap x reader ] yandere headcanons [ phil x reader ] yandere headcanons [ fundy x reader ] yandere headcanons [ schlatt x quackity x reader ] yandere headcanons [ sam x reader ] yandere headcanons [ technoblade x reader ] yandere headcanons [ multiple x ghost!reader ]

#[ info ]

[doctorgerth]

Hello! Could I ask please for promt 14 (Shanks, Benn Beckman, Law), theme 10, fem!reader. Oh i`m new in your blog, sorry if I did something wrong! (Hope i will have a time)

❥ “Seeking Warmth” - Valentine’s Day Event Scenario [ 5 / 14 ]

❥ prompt: “Your lips are really warm.”

❥ theme: Kiss

❥ pairing: Benn x F!Reader

❥ warnings: brief mentions of one night stands and Shanks x Makino

❥ word count: 1.1k

❥ a/n: hello! welcome to this disaster blog! 😃 gahhhh I love this man an unhealthy amount considering we know hardly a thing about him. he has no business being so attractive 😤 this was my first time writing a scenario for him, I hope I managed to pull it off! this one also ended up not really having anything to do with Valentine’s Day, whoops...

You shivered as you made your way across the ship, choosing to ignore the way your teeth chattered and how the wind chills seemed to seep to your bones. Most of the crew were hidden in their cabins, bundling up from the cold, enjoying hot stew in the mess hall, or drinking to warm their spirits. Not you. You were from a summer island and had only witnessed snow once in your lifetime. It hardly counted as your island only received about a half inch, but you vividly remember being utterly captivated by the silent snowfall; how perfect it laid along the grassy hills, the purest white you had ever seen.

You’ve waited, rather impatiently, for the ship to traverse through wintry oceans. As a newcomer on the Red Haired Pirates ship, you’ve witnessed many interesting places, but this was your first time since you were little seeing snow. Of course you weren’t going to pass this opportunity up, no matter if you were beginning to lose feeling in your toes.

A tall, dark figure leaning against the railings of the ship caught your attention in the blurring white. You drew closer out of curiosity, trudging through the blanket of snow, and were genuinely surprised to see the crew’s first mate, Benn Beckman. You’d recognize that lean figure anywhere as you’ve grown quite accustomed to it from staring at him longingly from across the room, silently tracing the lines of his masculine figure, observing with adoration as smoke clouds encircled his head, and wishing oh so pathetically to be the cigarette that hung from his lips. You hesitated to join him, until he felt your presence and turned around to greet you.

“Hey there.” He drawled, using his pointer and middle finger to retract the cigarette from between his lips, mouth forming a lazy ‘o’ as he blew a quick air of smoke that danced with the snowflakes.

“Sorry to bother you, I was just-”

“Not a bother at all. Come here.” He notioned you over with a jut of his chin then turned back to face the ocean.

You fought the nervous smile that was eager to spread across your face, instead biting your lip as you joined him against the edge of the ship. The two of you stood there, silent as the snow falling into the sea, simply enjoying each other’s company. Benn always had a calming aura about him. No matter how much his close proximity made your heart race, he made you feel at ease. He wasn’t much of a talker, and neither were you, so it was always nice to just be with him. 

“You’re not cold?”

You gripped at your shawl tighter, fighting the shivers, and smiled up at him, “I’m fine.”

Benn scoffed with a light roll of his eyes. You attempted to pay no mind, only sneaking a little peek, as he removed his cloak, shook off the collected snow, and handed it to you.

“Oh, you really don’t have to, I-”

“Just take it. Please.” 

He offered you a look of sincerity, and one of stubbornness. You reciprocated, “Won’t you be cold?”

He shook his head, “It’s been years, but…” He draped the cloak around your trembling body, nonchalantly wrapping his arms around you to secure you in it, “I’m used to it. I’ve experienced much worse winters than this.”

As his hands grazed your body, a blazing heat radiated within you that was surely enough to keep you warm for hours, even in these unforgiving temperatures. His cloak smelled just like him; aftershave, gunpowder, and cigarettes. It was intoxicating, like your entire world was consumed by him. You selfishly prayed he wouldn’t ask for the cloak back any time soon.

“Thank you.” You muttered, burying yourself further into the warm fabric as your body thawed. Your senses welcomed him, and with enough imagination, you could pretend to be held in those burly arms.

He chuckled, bringing you out of your embarrassing thoughts. It was silly, but you begged the heavens that he didn’t secretly have the ability to read minds. You eyed up at him, a silent questioning of what made him so amused.

“Nothing.” He flicked the butt of his cigarette over the edge with crinkled eyes as he smiled and you could feel your heart thumping in your throat. “You just look really cute in that.”

Your own eyes widened as you buried your entire head in the cloak, “Don’t tease me, Benn!” 

You tried to steady your breathing as he laughed. Such comments were common to come from your captain, who quite honestly would flirt with a potted plant. But Benn? He had always been aloof, hard to read. It took weeks for you to understand his mannerisms, and still, he was never an open book. You’d witnessed his more lax side a handful of times, mostly when around friends and when he was drinking, but you’d never witnessed such a playful side of him. 

Come to think of it, you’d hardly ever seen him act in a flirtatious manner around anyone, even those who were clearly interested in him (not that you could blame them, of course). Your fellow crew members have all flirted endlessly in bars and markets, some even bringing back one-night-stands to the ship. Why not Benn? Shanks of course had his own reason to avoid physical relationships in the form of a certain green-haired bartender, but what was Benn’s reason?  

He peeled back the collar of his cloak to reveal your face.

“Not teasing. Just being honest.” Smiling was such a good look on him. It was truly rare to see such a genuine small along those worn lips, it felt like finding gold when he did.

You were so mesmerized, you’d hardly noticed how the two of you suddenly stood mere inches from each other, his large hands still on the collar of his cloak as he stared down at you.

“Your lips look warm.” Benn smirked, thumb reaching up to brush gently along your jawline, “Can I kiss you?”

You choked on your answer, simply nodding in bewitchment. His hands let go of the cloak to cup both of your cheeks. He admired how soft your skin felt under his rugged hand and he was more than eager to feel the softness of your lips against his. Benn had been hiding from his feelings for far too long, and as embarrassing as it was to use his one of his captain’s lines, all that mattered was showing you how he truly felt about you. 

Your lips collided, moving against each other in heavenly motions. The fire of your lips mingled with the freezing snow made for comfortable weather. Your hands reached out from underneath the cloak to grasp at his shirt, smiling as he held your face gently within his hands, embracing the taste of you. You took note of the way his lips moved lovingly against yours, tongue curiously grazing your own. His years of experience was evident, yet he took his time with you, exploring you.

The two of you pulled away, puffy clouds of your heated breaths fluttering in the air between you.

“Your lips are really warm.” He muttered, eyes shamelessly staring at your aching lips. High on cloud nine and garnered confidence, you pulled him closer as you sought his lips once more. Your heart leapt as you felt his lips stretch into a wide smile, hands comfortably dropping to wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer.

Benn wasn’t much of a talker, and thankfully, neither were you.

If you enjoyed this, please be sure to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog! 💕

#doctorgerth #doc writes #scenario #Valentine's Day event #prompt event #theme event #fluff #romantic #benn x reader #f!reader #hardkate

[honey-sunsets]

Little Hurt-Comfort Bee Duo Fic!

TW: derealization, anxiety attack

Reminder: this is all platonic and all roleplay!

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sleep well.”

Ranboo rolled over onto his left side so that his back was to Tubbo. Tubbo was out in seconds, as noted by the immediate steadiness he sunk into. He was in his tired arc this night, so this was expected. Ranboo, on the other hand, did not fall asleep so immediately.

Earlier that evening, when he went to put Michael to bed, he found the piglet scribbling on a sheet of paper with the colored ink Tubbo had crafted for him a while back. Ranboo went to Michael cheerfully, asking what he was drawing and being overjoyed to learn that it was a family portrait. But when Ranboo finally saw the drawing, he didn’t find it so endearing anymore. Each of the three faces were drawn with thin smiles and solidly colored eyes. It was a sloppy and innocent drawing, so much so that Ranboo nearly didn’t notice the smiley faces at first, and they didn’t frighten him into an enderwalk. But they were still there, staring at him mockingly. And as he tucked Michael into bed, as he changed into pajamas, as he slid into his own bed, they were still there, hovering in the back of his mind.

So he didn’t get to sleep easy. It was quite a while, Ranboo wasn’t sure how long exactly, before he even felt tired, then another long while slipping in and out of consciousness. His brain fogged over with hundreds of thoughts flicking by too quickly to cause serious panic, only the indecipherable trailing of it.

He woke up in darkness. He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but that didn’t bother him. What did bother him was that something felt wrong. He wasn’t sure what at first, until he heard shuffling in the far right corner of the bedroom. He thought, he hoped, it might be Tubbo, but the lump beside him bitterly proved him wrong. Ranboo sat up slowly, trying not to wake Tubbo or alert whatever might be waiting for him in the corner. That is, if his shaking breath and pounding heart hadn’t already alerted it.

Something on the opposite side of the room moved, darting across the left side of Ranboo’s vision. Before he could react to that, there was a noise from right beside him.

“Tubbo?” he whispered, turning in fright to see his husband. Tubbo was now sitting straight up, body facing forward and head turned away. He sat agonizingly still, the only movement Ranboo could sense being the shaking of his own body.

“...Tubbo?”

Tubbo then jerked his head to the left, tiny black circles suddenly meeting Ranboo’s wide red and green eyes. His face was flattened, his features completely erased and replaced with a familiar smile.

Ranboo shot upwards out of his deep sleep, screaming and slamming his hands against the sides of his head.

“Ranboo? Ranboo!” Tubbo woke right up and jumped into action, reaching out to put his hand on his husband’s shoulder. Ranboo flinched violently at the contact, arms separating from his head only long enough to shove Tubbo away.

“RANBOO, Ranboo, it’s me, it’s Tubbo! I’m not going to hurt you, you’re safe, you’re alright!”

Ranboo stopped abruptly, trying to figure out if this was another cruel trick of his imagination. Slowly, he peaked out from behind his forearms, and was shocked to find Tubbo’s normal, forgiving features instead of a distorted smile.

“T-Tubbo?”

Tubbo’s expression softened, and he lowered his voice to something that sounded a little calmer.

“Hey there, big man, it’s me.”

“Tubbo, you— you were— your face—” Ranboo’s eyes darted away, his gaze unfocusing and breath picking up again.

“Ranboo, listen to me, please. I’m going to take your hand, okay?”

Ranboo didn’t respond, but Tubbo carefully took his hand anyway. He flinched a little, but didn’t try to pull away this time. Tubbo slowly brought Ranboo’s hand down and gripped it with both of his.

“Just listen to me and breathe, Ranboo, that’s all you have to do. Listen to me and keep breathing.”

Gently, Tubbo took Ranboo’s thumb with his thumb and forefinger, applying just a little pressure to make sure the other would register it. “Your name is Ranboo,” he stated tranquilly.

He moved softly to the pointer finger. “My name is Tubbo.”

Next the middle finger. “We’re married.”

The ring finger. “We have a son, his name is Michael.”

The pinkie finger. “The three of us are in our house.”

And lastly, Tubbo took Ranboo’s other hand, pulling it down to rest beside the first and lightly squeezing it. “You’re safe, you’re real, and so am I. It’s going to be alright.”

The pair sat in quiet anticipation, Tubbo hoping Ranboo had calmed down, and Ranboo trying to grasp what Tubbo said. Finally, Ranboo took in a deep, shaking breath, and let out a rough exhale.

“You feeling a little better now?”

Ranboo took another, shallower breath and squeezed Tubbo’s hands. “Yeah, yeah, I’m... I’m a little better, I think.”

“There you go, that’s good. Do you remember those breathing exercises Tommy showed us?”

There was a hesitant pause, but Ranboo nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good, let’s try some of those, okay?”

“Okay.”

For the next couple of minutes, the two practiced deep breaths, which slowed down smaller and smaller until they were brought back to a normal pace. Soon, Ranboo’s heart settled down to where he couldn’t hear it anymore, and the images of smiley faces faded enough in his mind so that he could see and think over them.

By then, the room had started to lighten. The white light of the moon, reflected all around by the wintry Snowchester grounds, began to give way to the pale blue of the early morning.

“I guess that’s all the rest we’re getting for the night,” Tubbo shrugged, taking note of the rising sun.

“Yeah... Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it, big man, it’s not your fault. Now why don’t we go get something to eat and get the day started?”

Ranboo grinned, something so much softer and more real than what had haunted him all night and morning.

“That sounds great, Tubbo.”

#I’ve been seeing bunches of comics lately where Ranboo and Tubbo have a morning grounding activity like the one in this fic #and I’ve been meaning to write some kind of fic for a while so I was like ya know why not #I’m very sorry that it’s not my best work but I have not written in months so I am extremely out of practice #it wasn’t my worst though! and I actually finished this one unlike the hundreds of unfinished fics ive got lying around #ranboo fanfic #tubbo fanfic #hurt comfort #bee duo fanfic #dsmp fanfic #dsmp oneshot #dsmp hurt-comfort #tw derealization #tw dereality #tw nightmares #tw screaming #tw unreality #tw horror #(I haven’t enough talent to dare call this a horror fic but that tag is still there just to be safe) #tw anxiety #tw anxiety attack #underscore beloved family #tree posts

[thesquireinvictus]

The Deserted Village BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain, Where health and plenty cheared the labouring swain, Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed, Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene! How often have I paused on every charm, The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, The never-failing brook, the busy mill, The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill, The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, For talking age and whispering lovers made! How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree, While many a pastime circled in the shade, The young contending as the old surveyed; And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground, And slights of art and feats of strength went round; And still as each repeated pleasure tired, Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired; The dancing pair that simply sought renown By holding out to tire each other down; The swain mistrustless of his smutted face, While secret laughter tittered round the place; The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love, The matron's glance that would those looks reprove! These were thy charms, sweet village; sports like these, With sweet succession, taught even toil to please; These round thy bowers their chearful influence shed, These were thy charms—But all these charms are fled. Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn; Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, And desolation saddens all thy green: One only master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain; No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, But, choaked with sedges, works its weedy way; Along thy glades, a solitary guest, The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries. Sunk are thy bowers, in shapeless ruin all, And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall; And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, Far, far away, thy children leave the land. Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay: Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made; But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied. A time there was, ere England's griefs began, When every rood of ground maintained its man; For him light labour spread her wholesome store, Just gave what life required, but gave no more: His best companions, innocence and health; And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. But times are altered; trade's unfeeling train Usurp the land and dispossess the swain; Along the lawn, where scattered hamlets rose, Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose; And every want to oppulence allied, And every pang that folly pays to pride. Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, Those calm desires that asked but little room, Those healthful sports that graced the peaceful scene, Lived in each look, and brightened all the green; These, far departing seek a kinder shore, And rural mirth and manners are no more. Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour, Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power. Here as I take my solitary rounds, Amidst thy tangling walks, and ruined grounds, And, many a year elapsed, return to view Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs—and God has given my share— I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose. I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, Amidst the swains to shew my book-learned skill, Around my fire an evening groupe to draw, And tell of all I felt, and all I saw; And, as an hare whom hounds and horns pursue, Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, I still had hopes, my long vexations past, Here to return—and die at home at last. O blest retirement, friend to life's decline, Retreats from care that never must be mine, How happy he who crowns, in shades like these A youth of labour with an age of ease; Who quits a world where strong temptations try, And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep; No surly porter stands in guilty state To spurn imploring famine from the gate, But on he moves to meet his latter end, Angels around befriending virtue's friend; Bends to the grave with unperceived decay, While resignation gently slopes the way; And, all his prospects brightening to the last, His Heaven commences ere the world be past! Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close, Up yonder hill the village murmur rose; There, as I past with careless steps and slow, The mingling notes came soften'd from below; The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung, The sober herd that lowed to meet their young, The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school, The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind, These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And filled each pause the nightingale had made. But now the sounds of population fail, No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale, No busy steps the grass-grown foot-way tread, For all the bloomy flush of life is fled. All but yon widowed, solitary thing That feebly bends beside the plashy spring; She, wretched matron, forced in age, for bread, To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread, To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn, To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn; She only left of all the harmless train, The sad historian of the pensive plain. Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden-flower grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was, to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place; Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power, By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour; Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise. His house was known to all the vagrant train, He chid their wanderings but relieved their pain; The long-remembered beggar was his guest, Whose beard descending swept his aged breast; The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud, Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allowed; The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, Sate by his fire, and talked the night away; Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, Shouldered his crutch, and shewed how fields were won. Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe; Careless their merits, or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And even his failings leaned to Virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt, for all. And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies; He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. Beside the bed where parting life was layed, And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns, dismayed The reverend champion stood. At his control Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, And his last faltering accents whispered praise. At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorned the venerable place; Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray. The service past, around the pious man, With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran; Even children followed, with endearing wile, And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile. His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest, Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distrest: To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven. As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, Tho' round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head. Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossomed furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, The village master taught his little school; A man severe he was, and stern to view, I knew him well, and every truant knew; Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face; Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee, At all his jokes, for many a joke had he: Full well the busy whisper circling round, Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned; Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault; The village all declared how much he knew; 'Twas certain he could write, and cypher too; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, And ev'n the story ran that he could gauge. In arguing too, the parson owned his skill, For even tho' vanquished, he could argue still; While words of learned length and thundering sound, Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around; And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, That one small head could carry all he knew. But past is all his fame. The very spot Where many a time he triumphed, is forgot. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired, Where grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retired, Where village statesmen talked with looks profound, And news much older than their ale went round. Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlour splendours of that festive place; The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnished clock that clicked behind the door; The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day; The pictures placed for ornament and use, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose; The hearth, except when winter chill'd the day, With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay; While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for shew, Ranged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row. Vain transitory splendours! Could not all Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall! Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart An hour's importance to the poor man's heart; Thither no more the peasant shall repair To sweet oblivion of his daily care; No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear; The host himself no longer shall be found Careful to see the mantling bliss go round; Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest, Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, These simple blessings of the lowly train; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art; Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play, The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway; Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined. But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed, In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, The toiling pleasure sickens into pain; And, even while fashion's brightest arts decoy, The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy. Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey The rich man's joys encrease, the poor's decay, 'Tis yours to judge, how wide the limits stand Between a splendid and a happy land. Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, And shouting Folly hails them from her shore; Hoards even beyond the miser's wish abound, And rich men flock from all the world around. Yet count our gains. This wealth is but a name That leaves our useful products still the same. Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride Takes up a space that many poor supplied; Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds: The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth, Has robbed the neighbouring fields of half their growth; His seat, where solitary sports are seen, Indignant spurns the cottage from the green: Around the world each needful product flies, For all the luxuries the world supplies. While thus the land adorned for pleasure, all In barren splendour feebly waits the fall. As some fair female unadorned and plain, Secure to please while youth confirms her reign, Slights every borrowed charm that dress supplies, Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes. But when those charms are past, for charms are frail, When time advances, and when lovers fail, She then shines forth, solicitous to bless, In all the glaring impotence of dress. Thus fares the land, by luxury betrayed: In nature's simplest charms at first arrayed; But verging to decline, its splendours rise, Its vistas strike, its palaces surprize; While, scourged by famine from the smiling land, The mournful peasant leads his humble band; And while he sinks, without one arm to save, The country blooms—a garden, and a grave. Where then, ah where, shall poverty reside, To scape the pressure of contiguous pride? If to some common's fenceless limits strayed, He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade, Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide, And ev'n the bare-worn common is denied. If to the city sped—What waits him there? To see profusion that he must not share; To see ten thousand baneful arts combined To pamper luxury, and thin mankind; To see those joys the sons of pleasure know, Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe. Here while the courtier glitters in brocade, There the pale artist plies the sickly trade; Here while the proud their long-drawn pomps display, There the black gibbet glooms beside the way. The dome where Pleasure holds her midnight reign, Here, richly deckt, admits the gorgeous train; Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy! Sure these denote one universal joy! Are these thy serious thoughts?—Ah, turn thine eyes Where the poor houseless shivering female lies. She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest, Has wept at tales of innocence distrest; Her modest looks the cottage might adorn Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn: Now lost to all; her friends, her virtue fled, Near her betrayer's door she lays her head, And, pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the shower, With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour When idly first, ambitious of the town, She left her wheel and robes of country brown. Do thine, sweet Auburn, thine, the loveliest train, Do thy fair tribes participate her pain? Even now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led, At proud men's doors they ask a little bread! Ah, no. To distant climes, a dreary scene, Where half the convex world intrudes between, Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go, Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe. Far different there from all that charm'd before, The various terrors of that horrid shore; Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray, And fiercely shed intolerable day; Those matted woods where birds forget to sing, But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling; Those poisonous fields with rank luxuriance crowned, Where the dark scorpion gathers death around; Where at each step the stranger fears to wake The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake; Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey, And savage men, more murderous still than they; While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies, Mingling the ravaged landscape with the skies. Far different these from every former scene, The cooling brook, the grassy vested green, The breezy covert of the warbling grove, That only shelter'd thefts of harmless love. Good Heaven! what sorrows gloom'd that parting day, That called them from their native walks away; When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, Hung round their bowers, and fondly looked their last, And took a long farewell, and wished in vain For seats like these beyond the western main; And shuddering still to face the distant deep, Returned and wept, and still returned to weep. The good old sire the first prepared to go To new found worlds, and wept for others woe. But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, He only wished for worlds beyond the grave. His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, The fond companion of his helpless years, Silent went next, neglectful of her charms, And left a lover's for a father's arms. With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, And blessed the cot where every pleasure rose; And kist her thoughtless babes with many a tear, And claspt them close, in sorrow doubly dear; Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief In all the silent manliness of grief. O luxury! thou curst by Heaven's decree, How ill exchanged are things like these for thee! How do thy potions, with insidious joy, Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy! Kingdoms, by thee, to sickly greatness grown, Boast of a florid vigour not their own; At every draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe; Till sapped their strength, and every part unsound, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. Even now the devastation is begun, And half the business of destruction done; Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, I see the rural virtues leave the land: Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail, That idly waiting flaps with every gale, Downward they move, a melancholy band, Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. Contented toil, and hospitable care, And kind connubial tenderness, are there; And piety with wishes placed above, And steady loyalty, and faithful love. And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade; Unfit in these degenerate times of shame, To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride; Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe, That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so; Thou guide by which the nobler arts excell, Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well! Farewell, and O where'er thy voice be tried, On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side, Whether were equinoctial fervours glow, Or winter wraps the polar world in snow, Still let thy voice, prevailing over time, Redress the rigours of the inclement clime; Aid slighted truth with thy persuasive strain, Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain; Teach him, that states of native strength possest, Tho' very poor, may still be very blest; That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, As ocean sweeps the labour'd mole away; While self-dependent power can time defy, As rocks resist the billows and the sky.

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