#I need a lamb in my life I’ve figured | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dark-night-insomniac · 1 year

Text

| Dreamcatcher jiu x reader

Genre: medevial au, fluff and angst

| Word count: 6.1k~ Part 1

Warning: fighting, blood, injury, angst, cursing, threats, physical&mental abuse, historical inaccuracy~ switch from first person to third at some point

| Cast: Minji, Sua, Yoohyeon, Gahyeon and You

A/n: some of the other characters in this might get their own story ;)

Sua’s spinoff - Gahyeon’s spinoff coming soon

—————/———————/————

I’ve seen her a few times around the village

Even from a distance, the mysterious aura seeping through her gaze always seemed to catch my attention

I knew better than to mess with witches

But to say my not-so royal life was getting boring was an understatement

My family sent me to live in the rural edges of our kingdom, with the purpose of teaching me life the hard way, before becoming the head of the palace

So here I was, a prince, trying to stay undercover, living as a farmer under someone’s uncle’s roof

That women I keep seeing, i've never quite seen a beauty so surreal, ‘’maybe it was a spell’’ i chuckled to myself, or maybe it was something far more than what i expected it to be

——-

I struggle to remember the color of the walls inside the palace. Maybe they changed it now.

My father and mother had agreed on it, before being suited to lead the kingdom, I had to live the hard way. Living with a friend of a friend, a farmer that is, and for approximately 12 months.

Every descendant of the Crimson family that was in line for the throne had to prove themselves by doing so. But the way my father had thrown me out without a notice still left me hurt.

I felt the bitterness come back to the surface as I bit down on my already bleeding lip.The feeling was exactly what I needed for this instance.I picked myself back up, pushing away the stray hairs from my vision. My left side stung again as I received another blow to my ribs.

The small crowd cheered.

I wasn’t going to let that scoundrel make a fool out of me again. I targeted his leg, first grabbing his shoulders, then kicking his leg to be able to swipe my feet underneath his, making him fall successfully

The crowd cheered again

Seeing my enemy on the ground, I stomped my feet down to his throat.

I had enough…

I kept pressing down even after he tapped on my leg for mercy. It's only when one of my friends pulled me back that I came back to my senses. The crowd quickly gathered around me, celebrating another worthless win. ‘’Yea yea, i won, the show’s now over every one’’ i made a gesture for them to disperse.

The moment I could feel the breeze again, I looked around at the disappearing crowd.

We had this event between friends every week or so. The crowd was always changing, new faces every time. But one face seemed familiar through it all.

A slender figure, dark hair, and always that dark cape looming over her. My friends told me she was only around when I was the one fighting.

Villagers, farmers, foreigners, anyone could enter our fighting matches as long as they placed a bet. The crowd could place bets as well, delivering the money before being permitted to watch the show. It wasn’t anything professional, far from it, but it was a way for us to distract ourselves and get some money out of it.

I walked back to my older friend, looking down at the amount we had gathered

‘’How much did we get?’’ I asked

‘’Weird question for a royal like you y/n, shouldn't you already have all the riches in the land?’’ he quirked his eyebrow. I quicked some dirt his way.

‘’Hey! Do that again and you’re never getting your share’’

I huffed before sitting down by his side to help him count

——

After all, life outside the castle wasn’t too hard. Harsh but freeing in many ways that the 4 walls of that palace could never provide me.

I walked back home at dawn, walking a bit further away from the village. I stepped inside, noticing my adoptive family, each sitting around the table.

‘’Good evening’’ I announced myself before taking off my worn out jacket

‘’Did you feed the lambs and the chickens?’’ A stern voice asked me

I cursed under my breath

‘’Go outside to feed them and do not come back in until it's done. You'll sleep outside if you are too lazy for such minimal tasks. You might be royal blood, but from what i have seen of you, you'll never be as good as your father’’ he spitted at me

I felt both my fists clenching, breathe y/n, only a few more months…

‘’It's not because your a descendant of the Crimson’s family that you're any better than us, now go before I teach you a lesson’’

I exited the house, slamming the door behind me.

This is ridiculous, no one restocked the food for the chickens. I grabbed my satchel and made my way out further, nearing the woods.

I still wasn’t quite sure what these animals were supposed to eat to grow. I would usually steal from our neighbors gardens, gathering what I could so uncle could get off my back.

Like the usual routine, I sneaked past the small cabin, kneeling down before the small garden. I started filling my bag with anything I could grab.

I believed myself to be safe. That until I heard wood cracking agonizingly under someone's weight. I immediately ducked, laying on the ground as flat as possible. Footsteps grew louder and closer, that’s when I heard a shout and decided it was my time to run. I stood up and saw the old man pointing his gun at me, I ducked and started running towards the woods. Hearing cursing and gunshots following. I ran through bushes and trees, not looking back

I stopped a minute later, trying to catch my breath.

That's when I heard a voice humming. I hid behind a tree. I heard of these fables, the ones who were stupid enough to wander around the woods alone would often encounter what people called witches. Seemingly human, but with monstrous powers.

I tried listening to the humming. I felt warm, almost comforted by the sound. I racked my brain, trying to remember witches powers and their effects on the common mortal. That song she was humming, it must be some sort of spell or enchantment

I plugged my ears with my fingers. How was I going to get out of this?

‘’Running, like you always do y/n’’

Right, I looked around before stepping out from my hiding spot, ready to run once again

Unfortunately for me, grace wasn’t one of my fortee, nor was my vision so it seems, has i had failed to notice a small root sticking out from the ground, making me trip and fall down

The humming stopped.

I cursed under my breath. I looked up to be met with an oddly familiar face. She simply giggled, looking down at me.

I stood up before taking a step back, cautious to who or what i had encountered.

‘’You’re hurt’’ she almost whispered while looking at me

Her voice sounded like pure silk, something bringing me almost as much comfort as it had for fear a few seconds prior.

I knew better than to fall under a witches charm. Yet, I stood frozen as she approached me, unable to look away from her delicate features and her chocolate eyes. Her hand made contact with my face, making me slightly jump. Her gaze met mine again, this time seemingly worried.

‘’S-sorry’’ I mumbled. She smiled before letting go of my face.

‘’Make sure to clean that cut and put pomade on it, if you want it to heal’’ she looked down with a shy smile

‘’Oh..I will’’ I replied before shaking myself out of this trance like state

‘’I'll be on my way’’ she excused herself before walking away

I ran back to the cottage, feeding the chickens with what I had gathered before finally settling down inside. I looked at my reflection, a cut was present where the women had touched my face. I gathered water from the kitchen, taking a small bowl to bring some over to my room.

I sat down before plunging face first into the bowl. At least I could clean up the wound.

Satisfied, I undressed and laid down. I stared at the rotting ceiling, wood really couldn't last long against the rain I thought. I turned to lay on my side, staring out the window.

Images of earlier came to mind. I wasn't sure if I liked the woman I encountered or if it was only the spell of a witch, either way, I was probably only touch deprived.

She was just one of many faces I would come across and never see again.

——

Yet another crack of dawn fell upon the village.

I unwillingly opened my eyes to be blinded by the waking sun.

If I were to wake up early enough, maybe uncle wouldn't catch me leaving for the day. I wasn’t willing to fulfill my duties per usual, so I opted on escaping to the village for another of our fighting tournaments. I quickly dressed up in my red cardigan father had given me, before exiting by the room’s window. I walked through the field before joining the main path. After a few minutes, I knocked on my friend’s front door.

Only a few seconds passed before she opened the door.

‘’Y/n!’’ she exclaimed

‘’Ready for another successful day Yooh?’’

She nodded with a grin before following me outside. She left to gather any possible fighters while I set up the scene, simply marking a line in the dirt behind one of the houses in the village.

I then settled down Yooh’s bet’s hat, anyone agreeing to fight or to watch had to place a bet against us, thus making us quite the coin after each fight.

When Yooh came back with a crowd, we decided on an order. A few foreigners in town would be fighting a few locals, then, the winner would go against me for the final.

We collected the bets and let the fights start after explaining a few base rules.

——

The crowd started getting bigger after a few rounds. More and more familiar faces stacked up around the circle. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned around to be faced with none other than Lee Gahyeon.

‘’Well if it isn’t the princess herself’’ I teased, slightly bowing.

She grinned from ear to ear, making me do the same.

‘’Y/n, you know not to address me as such around here” she lightly scolded.

‘’How is the farm life treating you dear friend’’ I asked, a bit concerned.

‘’Better than you it seems” she teased, pointing out my rough figure.

‘’The difference between you and me Gahyeon, is that i'm letting myself have fun while away from the castle’’

‘’And I only have a month left before returning to my family, so who is really the winner here y/n?’’ she grinned

Gahyeon was a princess sent here for the same purpose as I was. Only difference being her coming from a different kingdom, one adjacent to mine. Our families were allies. Once they heard about our family’s famous tradition, they decided on sending Gahyeon out into the world as well.

‘’Well i suppose i'll be lonely then’’ I playfully winked at her, making her giggle

Our attention was brought back to the fight when Yooh announced a winner, it was then that I turned around and saw the hooded girl again.There was this insatiable feeling inside of me, I needed to know her name. But as I started walking towards her, Gahyeon pulled me back.

‘’Don’t think you're escaping from me so easily prince charming’’ she grinned

Although I would have joined Gahyeon's stories, I was still distracted by the stranger. I turned the other way again, meeting the mysterious eyes through the crowd.

Those eyes, I could recognize them anywhere, an object of fascination against my own will. I was taken aback once I realized it was the same woman I had encountered in the woods. But before I could do anything, she ducked with a seemingly disappointed expression on her face.

I tried following after her, but Gahyeon was there to stop me again as well as Yoohyeon this time. She called me in for the final fight. I stepped into the circle, looking up to see my opponent. I frowned, I had never seen this type of attire, probably a foreigner.

Yoohyeon announced the rules again, the winner would win it all. Enticing amount of money for anyone that wasn’t royal. The fight started and I was able to immediately put my opponent to the ground. He managed to pull me off a few times but I was not going to let him take the win.

I pushed him once again to the ground, he groaned before shouting some words I could not understand. I heard some commotion in the crowd and immediately turned around to yoohyeon, seeing the girl fighting the friend of my rival. They were trying to steal the prize from her.

I was about to run to Yoohyeon but my opponent pulled me back.

I felt a stinging pain in my left leg. I looked down to see the man pulling out his dagger out my leg. I let myself fall onto the ground, now clutching at the wound.

I screamed to Yoohyeon to warn her, to let them go so she wouldn't get hurt. The crowd had already corwarded away, leaving the 2 men against me and Yoohyeon.

She let them go after being thrown to the ground.

I got back on my two feet and approached her

‘’I'm so sorry about this situation, are you okay dear?’’ I asked worried

I helped her pull herself off the ground, it's then that I saw a tear running down her face.

‘’yooh’’ I wiped away the tears, turning her face towards me.

‘’Its my fault, i couldn't fight him off, and now he's gone with the money’’ she muttered out

‘’Yooh, no one could of predicted this, it’s my fault if anything, i told you to stop fighting them, i didn't want you to get hurt’’ I reassured

‘’why-’’ she stopped her sentenced when she looked down at my bloodied leg

‘’Y/n! what happened’’ she crouched, touching around the wound.

‘’That bastard had a dagger on him, but i'll be fine’’

She seemed to disagree with me and retrieved her hand from the wound, looking at the substance now on her fingers.

‘’I think he had poison on that dagger, look’’ she showed me the green substance that she retrieved from the wound.

She then stood up before pulling on my arm ‘’Follow me, we need to get some medicine for you’’

I stopped her ‘’Yoohyeon you also have injuries, please go rest back home, i'll fix myself later’’ She was about to fight my decision but I glared at her.

‘’Fine’’ she pouted

‘’I’ll bring you back home now’’ i left her no choice

‘’right, prince charming’’ she joked

‘’I do this because I care about you, not because I was raised this way’’

—--

You led yoohyeon back to the safety of her home before going your own way.

You looked down at your leg. ‘’I have to fix this now’’

You weren’t knowledgeable in medicine and even less poisonous substances. But you did know a friend that could help you on that matter. You didn't like him much, but it was better than letting that substance simmer inside your flesh.

You made your way to his house and knocked.

Quickly your eyes were met with a cocky grin from the tall boy.

‘’Well, well, how could I help my dear Y/n today?’’

You scoffed at him ‘’Well, one of the fighter decided it was a good idea to wound me with poison today’’

He frowned, now serious ‘’I see, let me take a look at it’’ he made sign for you to enter.

You sat down on one of the chairs in his cabin. He kneeled before looking at the wound, He seemed fascinated by it, letting out some noises of excitement

‘’Anything?’’ you asked

‘’Y/n, a master needs time to complete his work’’ he smiled

He stood up before going towards his bed, picking up a book from it. ‘’From the color, texture, that wound…I don't think that's going to kill you, not yet anyway. Only thing, I dont have the plant you need here for your remedy’’ he seemed pensive

‘’Can you help me or i am wasting my time here?’’

‘’I sure can, although the plant I need is a bit far from here. I do have a brief sketch of it that should help you find it’’ he explained, ripping a page from his book.

You took the page out of his hands before walking towards the exit. ‘’Your welcome!’’ he screamed towards you before you disappeared from his view.

——

‘’This shouldn't be too hard’’ you repeated to yourself while walking further into the forest.

You approached a small water stream, stopping there to refresh yourself after the long and painful walk. As you stopped there, you heard shouting in the distance

You stood up and walked towards the source, curiosity getting the best of you.

You quickly hid when you noticed a man pointing his gun at a hooded figure. Intelligible words were exchanged between the two before the man threw the person to the ground. In a matter of seconds he then aggressively stepped on their ankle before stealing their belongings.

You came out of hiding to confront the man but he was already running away. You ran to the women that was on the ground

‘’Miss, may I help you? Why did that men attack you?’’ You asked

You waited for her response but only heard her sniffle. It was when she turned her face to meet your gaze that you recognized her face. ‘’A witch’’ you accidentally blurted out ‘’Is that why he attacked you?’’ she nodded at the question

‘’I won't hurt you’’ you quickly jutted out

‘’I believe you, I have seen you quite a few times around y/n’’ she inquired.

You were shocked at the mention of your name. She seemed to notice your confusion and tittle her head with a smile

‘’May I know your name?’’

‘’Of course, I'm Minji, or Jiu for short’’ she smiled through the pain.

She tried standing up but failed due to her injury. You offered her your hand and helped her stand. She tried putting weight on her feet but groaned at the feeling, gripping onto your hand for support.

‘’Oh your ankle, I can help you back home’’ you reassured but her smile dropped.

‘’I dont think its a good idea to bring me back home seeing as though you have a lover waiting for you back there’’

You frowned, confused.

‘’The princess?’’ she quirked her eyebrow

‘’Oh, that is not my lover. We are friends’’ you replied. She simply nodded

‘’Wait, how do you know she's a princess?’’ you asked curiously

‘’She isn't exactly trying to hide it with her gold brooch’’ she replied, making you laugh

‘’I also have noticed your embroidery dear prince’’ she seemingly teased, making you blush

She let go of your hand and tried walking on her own but to no avail. You grabbed onto her again. ‘’Let me help?’’

‘’You know what i am don't you?’’

You slowly nodded, trying to understand what she was trying to say.

‘’Then you shouldn't be here, even less at my house, which is near the coven’’ she explained.

‘’Minji, you can't walk on your own, I promise i'll be quick and of no disturbance’’ you slightly bowed, long forgetting your own injury to help the women in front of you. She sighted, knowing she had no other choices but to accept.

‘’Fine, but you should wear this, so as to not be recognized as an intruder’’ She gently took off her hooded cape and gave it to you. She helped you put it on properly, tying the front and placing the hood above your head.

You noticed a small frown on her features before she gently touched your cheek

‘’You didn’t put pomade on it, did you?’’ she asked with a teasing smile

‘’Oh, I must of forgotten, i’m sorry’’

she simply replied with a nod and a grin

You gave your hand to Jiu, holding onto it firmly to help her walk back home.

——

After what felt like an eternity, you could see the edge of wooden roofs starting to peek through the foliage.

As you walked closer to the village with Jiu, you observed the magnificent sight. A witch’s village was nothing short of breathtaking, unlike the horrible descriptions in those fables. Although the sight was to cherish, with all its greenery and uncommon forms, the sight that was to your right couldn't be beaten. It would be a lie to say you hadn’t peeked at Jiu’s profile throughout the long walk. You grew fonder of her soft chocolate eyes and her inviting smile. Although you had been too shy or preoccupied by her state to talk, the silence seemed to be comfortable. The both of you enjoying each other's company while admiring the surrounding nature.

The exterior of the small cabins were painted of eccentric colors and flowers were surrounding each and every building.

You both walked closer to what seemed to be her house. She opened the door before you helped her in. She then sat down onto her bed before looking back at you.

‘’Thank you y/n’’

You simply nodded, watching her uncomfortable figure trying to chase away the pain.

‘’Could you please bring my pain medicine? It's in my underground storage behind my house, you should be able to find it by the wooden trap there’’

You weren’t sure about wandering in such a place, but if it was to help Jiu feel better, then you would do so.

‘’What does the medicine resemble? you asked, unsure

‘’It a red glass bottle with a leather cap’’ she smiled

Having all the information you needed, you hesitantly stepped out of her cabin. You walked towards the back side of the building. A few meters away from its back wall, you noticed the wooden trap. To your surprise it was left open, making it easier for you to climb down in.

The place was quite dark, with only a faint flame lighting the room. You approached the light to start searching for Jiu’s medicine.

You heard a faint noise behind you, but before you could turn to the source, you were pinned against the harsh textured wall.

‘’Who are you and why are you here?’’ a smaller women asked, her knife to your throat

You gulped, ‘’I'm here for Jiu’’

‘’How do you know any of ours name’’

‘’I'm a friend of Jiu’’ you tried explaining but to no avail.

‘’I don’t believe strangers’’ she mentioned before pushing you to the ground. She let her weight pin you down to be able to tie your hands with some rope.

She commanded you to get up before asking more questions

‘’Jiu has been gone for hours now, why should I believe you when you could be the reason of her disappearance?’’

‘’Listen, your friend was attacked and I simply helped her get back home’’

The smaller women didn't reply, but simply approached you, now curiously looking at the embroidery on your chest.

‘’The Crimson palace…what is royalty even doing here?’’ she asked herself. She then walked a few steps around the dark room, seemingly in thought.

She looked at you after pondering, ‘’Who are you?’’

‘’It's not important, we need to go help Jiu’’ you replied, impatient to get back to the injured woman.

she harshly grabbed your face ‘’It is important if you want your pretty face to get out of here unmarked’’ she snarled.

You hesitated, blowing your cover wasn’t exactly meant to happen during this ‘learning session’ away from the palace. Especially not to witches.

Her hand started clenching harder around your face.

‘’I'm the prince’’ you finally jutted out, making her let go of your face

‘’There you go, was that so hard?’’ she giggled mischievously before pushing you out the room and up the stairs

‘’Where are we going?’’ you asked, unsure of what she planned on doing with vulnerable royalty.

‘’You’ll see soon, won't you?’’ she teased. She seemed unbothered by your sligh panic, enjoying the effect she had on you. To your relief, she walked you back to Jiu’s front door. She opened the door before pushing you in, making you fall to the floor.

‘’Is this someone you know?’’ she asked after putting her feet down on your back.

‘’Sua, be careful would you?’’ Jiu snarled at her

‘’Yes I do know them, they helped me get back here’’ she confirmed before letting herself to the ground to untie your hands from the harsh rope.

She looked over you like looking over porcelain, looking for any marks that would predict future shattering.

‘’i'm fine’’ you whispered to her with a reassuring smile

She looked back to Sua ‘’Do you at least have any medicine for me?’’

‘’Here’’ Sua took out a bottle from her satchel and threw it towards the bed

‘’If they do anything, just alert us with a scream’’ she explained before leaving the both of you alone.

Jiu painfully pulled herself back up to bed, ‘’I'm sorry about that y/n, Sua is…very protective’’

‘’I can tell’’ you smiled ‘’It only means you’ll be safe here, makes my heart a bit lighter’’ you admitted. You weren’t sure if it was the product of your imagination, but you swore in that moment you saw blush spread across her face.

She opened the bottle Sua had given to her and took out some of the medication to chew on.

‘’Is that all?’’ you asked, unsure if the medication alone would help her ankle. She giggled at your question before taking out something from under her bed.

She revealed a small wooden box. She pulled some bandages out from it before starting to twist the material around her ankle. You quickly kneeled before her, offering to help her. She smiled before letting you take the material to finish surrounding her ankle. You gently secured her ankle with the material before letting her foot down.

A few seconds passed. Waiting for any response, you looked up to catch her staring at you with a fond smile. You immediately looked back down, a bit embarrassed.

‘’Thank you y/n’’ she grinned

‘’It's nothing’’ you smiled back before getting up

But Minji frowned, looking down at your leg. ‘’Did Sua really cut your pants?’’

You looked down as well, now remembering your own injury ‘’It is not Sua’s doing, it is from a fight’’

‘’Can I have a look at it, I may be able to help you in return for your services’’ she pleaded

Without a word you simply sat down next to her. Her hands wandered around the wound on your thigh. She gently raised the material off your skin. Her expression seemed pained as she traced the cut. ‘’Do you know why the blood seems greenish?’’ she looked back at you

‘’I believe my opponent had poison on his dagger, which he was not suppose to use regardless’’ you huffed

‘’I see’’ Jiu helped herself up and made her way to a cabinet, grabbing a small jar from it. She came back and gave it to you. You noticed the symbol on it, it was the plant you were looking for earlier. ‘’How did you know this was the right antidote?’’ you looked a Jiu, surprised

‘’Well witches do have a few tricks up their sleeves’’ she winked, making you smile

You looked back down at the wound, ‘’Do I just apply it directly?’’ you questioned

Jiu giggled ‘’No we have to clean it first’’ She grabbed a small bottle from one of her shelf

‘’Here is some alcohol’’ she smiled. You watched dreadfully as she opened the bottle

‘’Maybe we do not have t-’’ she cut off your sentence by pouring some of the liquid on the cut. All that could be heard was your muffled groans as you harshly pressed your lips together.

Jiu watched the liquid fizzle, like some kind of potion she would be working on. She was about to pour more but you stopped her, pleading her to not do so.

‘’Oh, I'm sorry, I didn’t realize it hurt bad’’ she apologetically smiled before replacing the alcohol bottle with the small jar. She opened it before placing a generous amount of ointment on your wound. She gently spread it so as to not hurt you.

It's only now that you realized how close she was to you. Her body almost colliding with yours, you could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. A feeling you hoped would become familiar.

She gave you some bandages to finish treating the wound. ‘’Here, you should be able to recover now’’.

You stood up to properly wrap the material around your leg. Once secured, you noticed how the lighting seemed to have faded from earlier. You looked outside only to confirm that night was indeed approaching.

‘’Well, I will be on my way now, thank you for everything Minji’’ you bowed

‘’No need y/n, thank you for rescuing me today’’ she smiled

You felt that leaving her was causing your heart to ache. After finally meeting the mysterious woman, would you simply return home and never see her again? At last, you knew these questions wouldn't be answered by staying in her home, so you opted on wishing her a good night before exiting her house.

You made sure the wooden door was safely closed and locked before turning around. You stopped in your steps, met with none other than Sua and one taller girl. Her eyes went wide before turning into a teasing look

‘’Ah Sua, I will be heading home now’’ you explained

‘’Curious, with how long the two of you were in there, I believed you were staying the night’’ Her words surprised you, making you blush.

The other girl eyed you curiously before speaking. ‘’If you aren’t interested in Minji, we could spend some time together as well’’ she smirked. Sua elbowed the taller girl ‘’Dong, this is not the time to court’’ ‘’Fine, my excuses’’ she replied before sending you a wink as she made her way back towards what you assumed to be her house.

Sua turned back towards you ‘’Leave’’ she sternly directed to you

‘’Yes miss’’ you replied before making your way out of the village.

—---

A week has passed since you last saw Minji. Although she would usually present herself during the fighting tournaments, you assumed she couldn't make her usual errands in town with her ankle.

It didn't stop you from wondering if she was well, if someone was taking care of her or if she was recovered

You had been busy with tasks at home, but you planned to visit her. So when the next morning came, you quickly exited the house to make your way to her, hoping you wouldn't be ambushed by her friends again.

—--

Making your way through the woods. you seemed to recognize the surroundings. The small stream, the flowers. Wasn’t this the place you first encountered Minji?

A sudden idea came to your mind. You approached the flowers, gently picking some of them. You place them in your bag, making sure to not fumble any of the petals before resuming your travels

—---

You saw the wooden roofs appear once again in the distance. You remembered the way, to your relief.

You carefully stepped foot into the village, looking around for signs of any of Jiu’s friends. When you judged the cost to be clear, you let yourself walk further into the small town. That's when you saw her, tending to some flowers near a cabin. She looked just as beautiful as the last time you had seen her. She was sitting on a small bench, her ankle still surrounded for protection.

You let yourself admire her for a bit, enjoying the scenery of it all. Although you felt peaceful at that moment, your heart started singing a song of its own. Its pace quickening at the mere sight of her.

Suddenly, Sua appeared behind her, bringing what looked like to be more flowers to tend too. And although Jiu hadn’t noticed you, Sua immediately did and took her dagger out before calling to you. She seemed to not remember you.She hastily made her way to you but Jiu finally turned around and made eye contact with you. She immediately smiled and called back the smaller woman, explaining to her you were the stranger who helped her a few days before.

Sua retreated before teasingly smiling at you once again. This time she let no word out, simply making a gesture for you to join Jiu.

You walked to where Jiu was sitting

‘’Y/n. How are you’’ she smiled brightly

‘’I am well, I hope you have recovered since our last meeting’’

‘’I do feel better, especially now that you are here’’ she teased before giggling at your shy expression

You reached into your bag, carefully pulling out the flowers you picked earlier. You looked down at them, breathing in before having enough courage to look back up at her. You placed the flowers in front of her, still holding onto them ‘’I wanted to give these to you’’ you shyly expressed.

You didn’t quite understand what was happening to you. You never felt much. You always passed as the cold hearted person who had no time to spare for any strangers. But here you were, feeling your chest fill with butterflies as you looked into this woman's eyes.

She gently took them into her own hands. Looking gleefully over them, smelling the different flowers you had brought to her.

She looked back at you with a grateful smile ‘’Thank you y/n’’

‘’They reminded me of you’’ you blurted out

She giggled, looking back at them ‘’Is that so?’’

For once in your life, you decided to act on your feelings instead of the logic your brain was trying so hard to push onto you.

‘’I like you..Minji’’ you looked at her, only to see her shocked.

Scared, you looked back down to your feet. That was until you felt her warmth close to you once again. You could recognize that feeling anywhere, her presence was one you could never forget, intoxicating yet a blessing.

You felt her fingers hook themselves under your chin, encouraging your gaze to meet hers. Her gaze looked sincere and loving. ‘’I admire you a lot y/n’’ she said in almost a whispers

‘’I'm sorry about what I said’’ You tried explaining yourself.

What you failed to notice all this time was that Jiu felt attracted to you as well, wondering at night where you were, if you also thought about her and missed her.

At the simple mention of her being a witch, people would either attack her or run, no one had been considerate enough to talk to her, let alone help her. You made her feel loved in a way no one before had been able too. Even when she had romantic interests, she would have to hide who she was. But with you, she let herself hope that things could be different.

Noticing the silence, you tried speaking up again ‘’I should of not sai-’’

Jiu wasn’t gonna let you finish that sentence, she wanted to let you know just how much she appreciated your existence. She pulled you in for the softest yet most passionate kiss. Her lips weren't rough nor distant, a perfect amount of pressure accompanied by a slow and loving rhythm.

You felt hypnotized, her lips casting a spell on you, her body pressing against you like she was the puzzle piece you were missing. Her hand gently grazed against the back of your neck while you held onto her waist.

for the first in a while, you felt happy. Like life had a meaning, like the world was given back its colors.

You once believed love was a curse, but if she was the one casting it, then it was well worth it.

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ctrlhope · 2 months

Note

BOUND BY BLOOD IS TOOOOO GOOD OMG 😩😩😩 it's literally one of the best yandere fics I've ever read, thank you so for sharing it <3 But I have a question! Are the things (like how he has had sex with Annabell) Tae said in her room true or he just wanted to make her jealous and it's his way of manipulating her? Or Are the rumors about him actually true?

WEEE IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED IT!!!!!! I truly adore BBB!Taehyung so much— he holds a place nestled right in my heart and is probably my favourite male lead I’ve written so far (including all of my past blogs LMAO) so it makes me really happy that other people are enjoying him just as much!!!

He’s just. He’s so good. I want to revisit him in the future bc…. Yeah. I’m completely normal about the au (lies!)

But until then, I’d be happy to answer any and all of your questions about him <333

———

If you ask Taehyung himself, he would probably look at you like you’re crazy. He’d easily spin the narrative, making it about your lack of trust in him. Making you feel guilty about bringing up rumours of the past when you have him now. How could you possibly focus on anything else but that fact? How could you doubt your trust in him? His devotion to you?

That simply won’t do.

He’d look at you, hurt evident in his eyes. Almost as if he was disgusted with the mere notion, “You question my faith to you? You question our love?”

He would scoff from his throne, legs spread as he looks up at you— something unwritten on his features, “I’m honestly disappointed in you, lamb. So, so disappointed. You trust the word of the maids over me? You trust the word of the maids over our life? What else might you take their word in? Tell me.”

He would retire the entire palace staff if he needs to, honestly. But then again, he would do anything for you.

If you were able to ask his closest confidant, Jimin, he would tell you every word others speak is true.

But in Taehyung’s defence! He tells himself, implants the tiny seed in his mind, it was all for you. You’re the reason he does anything, after all. Maybe even the reason he breathes.

The only reason he messed with the other maids was because of you. Because for just a moment he could pretend he was fucking you instead. Cute little apron pushed up around your hips, nails digging into your socks— not theirs.

He would never look at their faces after he takes them to bed either. He could imagine yours so much easily then.

It was only afterwards that he realised Annabell was your close friend. He’s not very good at paying anyone much mind, save for you, of course. He figured that push come to shove— if she were to try and keep you two apart, he could easily claim that it was out of jealousy on her behalf. But he doubts it would ever come to that. Not if he denies, denies, denies <33

So, all of that is a long-winded to say that it is all true. And I think that apart of you knows that it is, but he would never admit it outright to you. But Taehyung doesn’t lie. Ever

#🧭 ctrl.asks #🧭 ctrl.nonnie #🖇️ ctrl.bound by blood #feel free to send any asks about him i adore answering all of them

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wander-over-the-words · 1 year

Text

BioFluff Week 2022 Fic #7

Title: It’s Not All Sunshine and Rainbows

Prompt: Free Day/Surface

Summary: The one where Eleanor is terrified of the weather, Sinclair realises he has a blip of paternal instinct, and Delta is really good at Trouble.

Characters: Eleanor Lamb, Subject Delta, Augustus Sinclair; mentions of Brigid Tenenbaum, Grace Holloway, Stanley Poole, Sofia Lamb, Amir, Splicers, Little Sisters.

Pairing: some Augustus Sinclair/Subject Delta, but it’s mainly family fluff between Eleanor and her dad and the dude she’s taking as a father figure.

Warnings: depictions of natural disasters; mentions of drowning, death, violence.

Notes: Final submission for BioFluff Week, with an answer to the specific prompt ‘Surface’! I’ve always enjoyed the notion that while Eleanor would be fascinated by weather on the surface, she’d be shit-terrified of some of the more intense examples - like tornadoes! So, here’s Eleanor experiencing her first tornado. Extra thing to say: I put a stupid amount of time, research and effort into plotting their goddamn board game nngrng.

All material belongs to Irrational Games.

Fic also available on AO3.

…

Eleanor sits on the back porch as she half-listens to the radio and half-watches Delta mill about the garden, stooping low to rip up the weeds that have accumulated during Sinclair’s absence from the home. She’d overheard Sinclair saying he might need to hire back a gardener to take a crack at his gardens, but Delta had insisted he would do it; by all accounts, he seems to be enjoying the work.

Sinclair is helping in a more idle fashion by steering a wheelbarrow, following Delta in an attempt at feeling useful, so Delta has a place to toss the weeds and dead grass.

“Looks like you’re makin’ a real dent in the damage old age has done to this yard, pumpkin,” Sinclair says, smiling as he surveys Delta’s work; at least a quarter of the garden is done. “Mighta been that you were a real good gardener in a past life!”

Delta lets out a thoughtful rumble to reply to him.

Sinclair bobs his head as he puts his hands to his hips, looking over at the supplies he’d gone into town for, namely the bag of topsoil waiting for them.

“Well, the plan is: if we manage to finish this up today, we can lay some o’ that down too,” Sinclair says, and his wording has Delta looking up from his work, then over at the bag as well, “an’ then we might just start bein’ able to grow things out here again. Give the place some of its former beauty.”

Delta glances toward him, then stands up from his work and starts making his way over to the bag of topsoil. He stoops to pick it up and carries it back to Sinclair, cradles it in one arm to free up a hand and points to a logo on the bag, presumably belonging to the company or store; it’s of three roses bunched up together from a birdseye view, encircled by their own conjoined stems. Delta then points down at the lawn.

“Hm?” Sinclair peers at the logo. “Oh.” He shrugs with a smile. “Well, I don’t see why not. They’re not the kind o’ flower that used to grow back here, but they’ll do jus’ fine in prettyin’ up the place. It’s your call this time, chief - as I said before,” he gestures to himself, “mi casa,” he gestures to Delta, “es tu casa. Ain’t just my yard anymore, is it? Our yard now.”

Delta lets out a delighted warble, his shoulders lifting to form body language that just screams excitement, and he must be slightly overwhelmed by his own emotions because he suddenly reaches out and wraps an arm around Sinclair, pulling him into a hug.

Sinclair is moved so quickly that he loses his footing, and the only reason he doesn’t fall face-first to the recently-cleaned yard is due to being pressed up against the brick wall that is Delta’s torso.

He lets out a choked “Oof!” as he hits it, the side of his face all squished up against Delta’s sternum, and then he chuckles and slips a hand between them.

“As always, I’m happy that you’re happy, chief, but, uh, let’s hold off on squeezin’ the stuffin’ outta me, huh?”

Delta jolts and reminds himself of his own strength, then eases up the hug, staring down at Augustus with a no doubt worried gaze, but his worries are relieved when Sinclair just smiles and leans his head against Delta’s chest more comfortably, patting it twice to tell him it’s okay.

From where she sits, Eleanor smiles.

She hadn’t been sure about Augustus when Tenenbaum had first mentioned she would get him to escort Delta down to Persephone - she’d heard about him from Aunt Grace, Stanley and Mother, and knew he wasn’t the trustworthy sort, more of the selfish kind - but watching him through Father’s eyes started to change her mind, and seeing them interact outside of Rapture does so even more. He makes Father happy and safe at least, and that’s all she can really ask of him.

She gives a soft chortle, then looks to the radio as the song that had been playing finally slows to an end, and she listens for what the announcer pair have to say next - which turns out to be the weather, something that Eleanor finds an apparently-odd amount of joy in listening to. But she does find it so interesting, how people just…find out what weather there will be tomorrow, when they tell her there will be rain - and then there is!

“And here’s something important, folks,” the man says, “we’re gettin’ reports of a tornado watch being put out, for the following counties to take note of -”

Eleanor turns her head to look at her pair of guardians. “Augustus! Father!”

Sinclair pulls away from Delta like he’d forgotten she was there, looking over at her wide-eyed, and Delta lets out a soft hum of curiosity to let her know she has his attention.

She ushers them over and they join her just as she hears the man say “Morgan County,” - which is the very county their dear Madison is head of.

“What was that about?” Sinclair asks, frowning at the radio.

Eleanor looks up at him, her turn to stare wide-eyed. “They…said that there’s to be a tornado watch.”

“Oh.” Sinclair’s frown lets up and he lifts his eyebrows. “Well, then.”

“What does that mean?” Eleanor asks, feeling her stomach flip.

Sinclair nods to the radio. “What that means, sweetie pie, is that that nice man there is informin’ us that a tornado could be on the way.”

Eleanor swears, she can feel her face pale.

She recalls seeing them in Amir’s book about the surface: the giant, swirling tubes of wind and clouds that people are supposed to seek shelter from because tornadoes do nothing but destroy everything around them.

Wind has been something Eleanor’s become completely fascinated with since they’d gotten out of Rapture; she’d happily stood outside on a windy day, laughing as her hair and the collar of her blouse had been blown about and her skirt had been flung around her knees, despite the chill the wind had brought with it. She remembers being little, down in Rapture, thinking about what wind must have felt like, but despite her urge to feel it, she’d had no such wishes with natural disasters. She’d understood as soon as she’d seen the image in Amir’s book that they weren’t safe, they weren’t something she should look forward to - in fact, they were something she should fear.

And by God, she does.

“If that’s the case, then…then we should evacuate, shouldn’t we?” Eleanor asks, already rearing to stand and run to wherever Augustus directs her.

“No, no,” Sinclair nonchalantly scratches his chin, looking up at the sky, “not yet. It’s still a bright day out,” he holds out a hand, “and I ain’t feelin’ a single drop comin’ from the sky. Mm - watches are only called out for when the weather’s right for a tornado to form.” He waves a hand casually. “But we’ve had watches in the past where nothin’ happened at all, so I wouldn’t go frettin’ about anythin’ just yet.”

“Yet…” Eleanor mutters, staring into space.

He must miss her tone because he hums, still nonchalant, then casts his gaze elsewhere.

“That bein’ said - might not be a bad idea to go an’ check the shelter’s still standin’ tall an’ strong. Reckon it’d be best to go and do that right now.”

He starts making his way to the other side of the house, where the cellar doors are.

Delta stoops to place the bag of topsoil down on the porch beside Eleanor, then calls out a note of whalesong to let Sinclair know he’ll come with him to help, and Sinclair thanks him as they walk together.

Eleanor watches them go, then turns to look at the pile of weeds and blades of dead grass in the wheelbarrow as a gust of wind blows through the air, making her hair tickle her chin and the short sleeves of her blouse shuffle about on her arms, her skirt brushing the side of her leg. It captures a few strands of grass and weeds and sends them floating back onto the lawn her father had ripped them from.

Such a thing would usually make her smile, but now - she brings her knees to her chest and hugs them as she hides her chin against them, staring worriedly as the wind continues to blow.

…

The morning has faded into the afternoon and the afternoon into evening, and the entire time, Eleanor has kept glancing at the sky and watching the wind, even after Augustus and Father had decided they were finished with their work for today; she didn’t watch them put down that topsoil, since her nerves had gotten to her when another soft gust of wind had blown some of the dead grass from the wheelbarrow, and she’d nervously asked Sinclair if they were finished now - ‘just curious’, of course, and not at all because she didn’t want them or herself to be out here anymore, where it wasn’t safe.

When Sinclair had oh-so casually said no, they’d be layering the soil on now, and he’d purchase for Delta the needed supplies to grow roses tomorrow, Eleanor had caved and gone inside, leaving the radio outside so Sinclair and Delta could hear when the radio people told them a tornado was coming and they could die.

She’d situated herself with a book to try and get her mind off things, but she’d found herself easily looking up, toward the windows, every few minutes, watching nervously as one of the trees just outside their fence swayed in the wind - and her blood had turned to ice when she noticed the drops of rain hitting the window.

Sinclair and Delta had apparently gotten to finish their yardwork before the rain got heavier and the sky started to darken (and is it dark because it’s the evening, or is it dark because of a tornado? She’s still learning these things), and now they’re here with her. Sinclair is doing a crossword in the newspaper on the couch beside her and Delta is seated on the floor (he can’t sit with them on the couch; his suit’s too heavy for Sinclair’s furniture…as they’ve already discovered with one of the poor beds upstairs), doing a jigsaw puzzle that is technically for children (it’d been the only kind that had pieces big enough for his hands).

Eleanor is white-knuckling the book in her hands as she watches the rain outside. She feels sick to her stomach - isn’t rain something that happens during tornadoes? Sinclair had said that, hadn’t he? That it wasn’t raining earlier so they didn’t have to worry about tornadoes?

Well, it’s raining now, so why isn’t he worried? He’s just sitting there, tapping a pen against his cheek as he ponders a crossword puzzle. Why isn’t he concerned about this?

Eleanor looks back down at her book and realises she has no idea what’s happening in the story or where she even left off, so it’s no longer a worthy attempt at a distraction. She shuts it without even marking her page and instead hurriedly turns the television on and finds something that will distract her.

There’s an episode of a show Eleanor enjoys - Doctor Who, it’s called - and she settles on that; she missed the beginning, but she finds she doesn’t mind all that much.

As she fixes her gaze on it, Eleanor squeezes fistfuls of the leather of Sinclair’s couch, slick beneath her sweaty palms. She tries desperately to keep her attention on the TV, like Delta is now doing (he’s found television as fascinating as she has, and even Sinclair had been surprised to find people on the surface had figured out how to make televisions broadcast in colour), but the television is unfortunately situated right in front of one of the tall windows in the living room, so her eyes keep sliding to check the skies for plumes of wind.

Stop looking, she tells herself as she looks at the TV, with the TARDIS and the Doctor and everything she likes about this show, stop looking, Augustus will tell you when it isn’t safe.

They’re a good fifteen minutes or so into the episode when the audio cuts out, the Doctor’s talking replaced by a monotone beep, and then he disappears from the screen and instead, the television projects a blue background, with text that makes her blood go cold all over again.

TORNADO WARNING is the first thing she sees.

“What’s happening to the screen?” Eleanor asks, even though it’s a silly question when the answer is right in front of her, when she knows what this means.

“Yer better off askin’ somebody else,” Sinclair says, with an almost sarcastic chortle, not looking up from his newspaper as he writes an answer into his crossword. “Now, I know you’re taken with this particular program, honey, but I just find it crazier than a box o’ frogs.”

Delta grunts to say no and he reaches over, tapping at Sinclair’s leg.

“Hm?” Sinclair looks at him, then to the screen. When he sees it, he removes his glasses and frowns.

“The National Weather Service,” says a man’s voice, as monotone as the beep, “has issued a tornado warning for the following counties -”

“Huh,” Sinclair says, and he waits until they hear Morgan County before he bobs his head, eyebrows raised. “Well…that’s not good, is it?”

“Why? Why isn’t it good?” Eleanor asks; again, she doesn’t need to, but Sinclair is the expert here. Neither she nor Father have experienced storms (if Father has - before he was a Big Daddy - then he doesn’t remember them).

Sinclair nods slowly to himself, robotically setting his folded newspaper down beside him and placing the pen on top.

“That, honey, that’s a sign that we should start considerin’ the idea of movin’ down into the shelter.”

“Then…Then there is a tornado coming?” Eleanor continues with the obvious questions.

“Most probably. Lettin’ out a warnin’ means they’ve spotted one.” He scratches his chin and looks curiously at the TV. “Only hope is that this is the first one they’ve let out, and they haven’t jus’ been throwin’ their concerns into the wind, as it were.”

Eleanor eyes widen as a shot of guilt hurts her heart; why had she bothered with the book to distract her? Why hadn’t she gone straight for the television? She would’ve known sooner that something was -

A siren blares from outside, echoing through town, and she doesn’t need to ask anymore silly questions to know what it means, especially not when Sinclair and Delta whip around to look outside, and Sinclair’s eyes have widened.

“And that right there,” Sinclair says quickly, standing up from the couch, “that’s our ticket to move. C’mon, c’mon! Everybody, up!”

Eleanor’s breath immediately picks up, her heart pounding against her ribs; the last time she felt panic this quickly was when she’d realised Mother was going to try and drown them with Persephone’s explosives, and she finds herself rooted to the spot as Sinclair and Delta move around her, momentarily blocking her view of the TV with its blue screen and TORNADO WARNING still splayed out -

There comes a shout of whalesong and her arm is captured in Delta’s hand, and Eleanor gasps and looks up at him as he tugs as gently but as urgently as he can to coax her into getting up.

“Eleanor! C’mon, now!” Sinclair calls from the dining room behind them, stopped on his way to the basement.

Eleanor does as she’s told and quickly gets up, looking back at their belongings - Sinclair’s newspaper and pen, Delta’s puzzle, and the television remote she’d tossed aside - and she lets Delta lead her into following Sinclair to the back of the house, near the glass doors to the garden, to the door leading to the basement.

Sinclair reaches it first and opens it and he and Delta usher for Eleanor to go first; she again does as she’s told and passes by them.

When Delta approaches, he freezes, looks at the size of the doorway, then motions to Sinclair to go ahead; when Sinclair looks afraid, he hastily rectifies it with hand gestures that he’s going to go around, to the other doors outside, where he’ll fit better, and not to worry because he’ll be quick.

Sinclair nods and Delta rushes to carry out his plan.

From where she stands midway down the stairs, Eleanor sees Delta go and immediately calls out, panicked, “Father! Father, what’re you doing?!”

“Ah - he’s just goin’ around to the other side,” Sinclair replies as he slips in and slams the door shut, fingers shaking slightly as he hurries to lock the door - latch, key and all. “It’d take longer for him to try an’ squeeze through this doorway, he fits better goin’ through the other entrance.”

Right on cue, the metal doors that point to the sky are flung open, and Eleanor hurries down the stairs in time to turn the corner and see Delta come barreling down his own short set of stairs and turning to slam the doors shut behind him.

Though it does barely anything to lift the weight from her chest, Eleanor breathes a sigh of relief, and Sinclair runs by her to help Delta pull the latches across the doors to lock them tight. With the closing of those doors, the basement goes dark, and Delta’s helmet lights up.

The two step back from their work, Sinclair panting lightly and Delta observing the doors with a locked-up, nervous air about him, as the rain pelts against the metal, making Eleanor’s brow furrow worriedly.

“Well,” Sinclair says in the silence, “drama’s over with - it looks like we’re gonna be spendin’ a minute down here. Go ahead an’ point your lamp this way, chief - I’ll get the lights. There’s a switch somewhere around here…”

Wiping rain droplets from his porthole, Delta does as he’s told and turns to face Sinclair, who moves over to the opposite wall to locate the switch.

There comes a click and the lights come on, and it’s only a minor comfort for Eleanor, who’s fixated on the sounds of the storm outside, still standing in the middle of the room and staring at the locked cellar doors.

“There, now. That’s better,” Sinclair says.

He turns to go over to the cupboard on the far side of the room, passing by the cleaned-out wheelbarrow he and Delta had been using earlier and kneeling to open one of the cupboard’s doors.

“Alrighty - I packed up some things down here that’ll help pass the time until that storm blows over.” He stands back up to show them the small pile of flat boxes he’s got. “We got board games, some word puzzles - collected a couple of your jigsaw puzzles, kid. Anyone got a…preference?”

Eleanor barely hears Sinclair talk; she’s looking up at the ceiling, listening as the rain pelts down outside, and another shot of ice goes through her veins when she hears the rumble of thunder.

She’s already experienced one thunderstorm since coming to the surface, and ironically, she’d anxiously asked Sinclair if that meant a tornado was coming because the two examples of bad weather had fused together in her mind and she hadn’t known they’d get a warning about the latter. She remembers Sinclair chuckling like she was silly and assuring her no, it just meant they were gonna be having some bad weather.

Well - this is certainly ‘bad weather’. The storm has gotten worse, she can hear it; the rain hits harder against the doors, the wind gets louder, the thunder draws closer.

(And that means the tornado’s getting nearer to them, doesn’t it? That means…That means it’s going to hit them, and the house will be destroyed, and they could end up -)

“Eleanor?”

She feels a poke to her arm.

“Hm?” She looks at Sinclair, then at Delta, whose finger still hovers over where he’d poked her bicep.

Delta lets out a curious little noise as Sinclair motions to the pile of boxes in his hands.

“You got anythin’ in mind you wanna do?” Sinclair asks.

Not be in the middle of a tornado.

“Oh. Um.” Eleanor blinks once, she hadn’t even been listening to any of the options. “Anything is…fine - Um. Did you…say you have Trouble?”

Sinclair bobs his head once in approval and slides the chosen game from the middle of the pile, carefully balancing the rest on his arm as he turns to kneel back down.

“Trouble, then,” he says.

He puts the rest of the games back, then shuts the cupboard and brings the Trouble board game over to the opposite side of the room, where he motions for them to join him.

With another worried glance at the ceiling, Eleanor follows them over to the wall, where they sit, Eleanor with her back to the brick and her knees drawn up, Sinclair to her left and Delta to her right, with one leg stretched out and the other bent to avoid Eleanor’s personal bubble.

(Are they safest here? Is that why Sinclair had them move here? Is this safe?)

Crossing his legs to get comfortable, Sinclair slides the box’s lid off and brings out the board, setting it down in the middle of them.

“Got a preference for colour?” Sinclair asks.

“Huh? Oh.” Eleanor looks down at the board, then directs her gaze to the metal doors as she replies, “Yellow is fine.”

“Mm-hm. And what about you, chief?”

Delta points out the blue pegs, so Sinclair nods and turns the board so the yellow pieces are in front of Eleanor, the blue are in front of Delta, and the green are in front of himself.

“I’ll go on ahead an’ be green, then,” he says, then gestures to Eleanor. “Ladies first - we go ‘round clockwise, so that’ll mean I’ll be next, then you, pumpkin pie.”

Delta grunts in the affirmative and Eleanor gives a half-hearted, tiny hum of agreement.

(She can just picture it now: the giant tower of wind invading the town, ripping apart everything in its wake, tearing roofs off buildings and sending glass flying…All the people she’s met since they arrived, the workers in the shops they’ve gone to…In the grocery store, with all the new food Eleanor had wanted to try and bring home for Father to try, and the boutique, where that kind lady had helped her find nice clothes because Augustus had had no idea what he was doing in the women’s section…the gardening store where the patient man had answered Eleanor’s questions about sunlight and bumblebees -)

“Eleanor?”

Eleanor looks to Sinclair.

“You’re goin’ first,” he says, raising an eyebrow with a small, awkward chuckle. “Can’t leave the startin’ line until you do. You alright, honey?”

Delta lets out another curious noise as he sets a hand on Eleanor’s shoulder, leaning forward to question her.

Eleanor forces a smile as she nods; a part of her wants to tell them - especially Father - how frightened she is, but there’re memories creeping in the back of her mind, memories of being small and scared of the dark, of asking Mother to check under her bed, of Mother telling her she was better than this. She’d been worried about the dark when living with Aunt Grace as well, but by then, she’d learned not to tell adults she was afraid.

And obviously, there’s nothing to be scared of here because Augustus isn’t scared - he’s happily sitting there, playing a goddamn board game like there isn’t a death spiral on its way, and he knows about these things. So, if Augustus isn’t scared, then she has no reason to be either.

“Of course,” she says. “I’m perfectly fine.”

She leans forward to press down on the plastic popper in the middle of the board, making the die inside jump and roll to a new number. She gets a six, and Sinclair gives a long, impressed whistle.

“Lady Luck appears to be on your side already, so it seems,” he says as Eleanor picks up one of her pegs and places it on the left side of the first two open places in front of her home base. “Probably get that from your daddy, he’s always unfathomably lucky the first few turns, so says our card games back on the train.”

Delta shrugs.

Eleanor goes to hit the popper again, only to jump and suck in a breath when a shot of thunder cuts through the sounds of pelting rain. She swallows back the jolt of panic going through her, taking a moment to try and calm the pounding of her heart, then she hits the popper and gets a three.

She moves her piece accordingly, then looks to the metal doors and places her hands down on the floor either side of her as Sinclair takes his turn and fails to get a six and then looks up to ask Delta if he’d like Sinclair to handle his turns for him, to avoid damaging the popper or the pegs by accident.

Her fingers curl against the wooden floor, dragging her nails across the boards, as she watches the metal doors, and she swears she sees them shake -

(There’s no way the tornado hasn’t hit Madison by now, just listen to the weather howl out there. Any time now, she knows it, they’re going to hear the crashing of buildings being destroyed, of cars being flung - Augustus left his car outside, should they have moved it? He loves that car, shouldn’t they have tried to protect it or something? She doesn’t know. He keeps a sheet tied over it to protect it from damages, but that won’t do anything if the tornado picks it up and flings it - shouldn’t they have done something else? And if it’s flung, then…then will it hit the house? Hell, if the tornado’s close enough to throw Sinclair’s car, it’s close enough to hit the house itself, and they might be -)

It’s her turn again, and she has to take her eyes off the doors to hit the popper and roll a one, and she moves her piece before Sinclair tries for a six and fails again.

He rolls for Delta and sighs as he moves one of Delta’s pegs out of home base for him.

“Well,” Sinclair says, all fake-grumpy as he hits the popper. “Seems like I’m the only one around here who Lady Luck’s decided not to lean upon.”

Delta gets a four, and Sinclair moves his piece for him, and Delta leans over and pats Sinclair’s knee.

“Oh, now, don’t you play the sympathetic silver medal, chief,” Sinclair says. “‘Nother thing I recall from our games o’ War and Old Maid is that you, sir, enjoy the art of winnin’ a little too much.”

Betraying his own smugness, Delta’s shoulders lift happily, and Sinclair scoffs.

“Well. Young Eleanor’s still on the board with ya, so you go ahead an’ put those shoulders down.”

Eleanor looks at him when she hears her name and forces a wide smile and a hum of amusement -

(The car will come flying any minute now, soaring through the rain -)

She takes her turn, gets a four, and moves her piece to one over from Sinclair’s home base.

Sinclair gives a snide chuckle. “Better keep your eye on that piece o’ yours, honey, cause I might be just about to snatch it up.”

He hits the popper.

“Or not,” he says lamely, frowning at the three that comes up.

Delta chortles, and Sinclair directs that frown his way, making a show of narrowing his eyes at him for the sake of the joke.

“Oh, hush, now. Your turn.”

(If the tornado hits the house, it will be destroyed, won’t it? This beautiful house Augustus has owned for years, wrecked in seconds. And if it hits the house, will they be safe here? They can’t be, surely; if the tornado’s strong enough to destroy the house, to destroy the town - the boutique, the crafts store, the grocery store -)

The pop of plastic under Sinclair’s hand makes Eleanor give a small jump and look down at the board to find him moving Delta’s piece five places.

Eleanor robotically takes her turn and gets a two, which takes her further away from the danger of getting caught by Sinclair’s piece leaving home base. She goes back to staring at the doors, hugging her knees again and digging her fingers into her own leg.

Sinclair leans over and hits the popper for his own turn, then lets out a triumphant laugh as he finally gets that six. He moves one of his green pegs out of home base, then takes his second roll and gets a one, to which he shrugs and casually moves his peg.

And then comes Delta’s turn, which turns up another six, and Delta and Sinclair exchange a look as they realise where that first peg will land.

“Now - Now, pumpkin pie, darlin’, sugarplum,” Sinclair says, holding out a calming hand, “let’s think about who you’re gonna hurt if you move that first piece o’ yours. You can always fetch another one o’ your soldiers from the barracks.”

Delta makes a show of rubbing the bottom of his porthole with a curled finger, where his chin should be, as he thinks about it, then he relents, shrugs and gestures for Sinclair to get another one of his pieces out.

To continue the joke, Sinclair wipes his hand across his forehead and gets one of Delta’s pegs out of home base for him, and then he hits the popper for Delta’s second roll - and comes up with another six.

Delta immediately belts out a laugh and Sinclair’s face falls; Eleanor looks away from the doors at the sound of her father’s delight and looks down at the board.

“Uh - well, the…obvious move now is, ah, you’re gonna wanna move your, uh, new soldier on his way, so let’s just, uh…” Sinclair says, reaching for the peg that had just escaped Delta’s home base.

Delta holds up a finger to stop him, lets out a few rhythmic hums in a mimicry of the classic “Ah, ah, ahh,” then wags that finger and gestures to the other blue peg.

“You wanna move that one?” Sinclair ask, incredulous, then perks up a little as he plucks Delta’s first peg from the board. “Oh, well, look at that, sport - turns out, you actually went an’ rolled a five this turn, so - accordin’ to some basic math and the rules of the game - you move right here.”

He moves it to the spot next to his lone green peg.

Delta lets out a long groan, defiant, and holds up six fingers.

“Uh, no, see, pumpkin - much as I hate to say these words - that’s where you’re wrong.” Sinclair puts his glasses on and peers at the die. “That’s definitely a five right there. Eleanor, you see a five, don’tcha?”

For even a moment, Eleanor’s mind is taken from the storm outside and she looks at him with a sheepish smile, refusing to answer, with an apology in her stare and her furrowed brow.

Delta lets out a growl and points down at the board to tell Sinclair to play it properly.

“Ahh, fine. You got me,” Sinclair says grumpily as he pulls off his glasses, picks up Delta’s piece, then snatches up his own piece and puts it back in his home base. He places Delta’s peg down where his had been.

Delta gives a satisfied grunt.

“Personally, I can’t believe you’d go an’ treat your sweetheart in such a fashion,” Sinclair mutters, tilting his head away to point his nose in the air, all fake-offended. “Where’s that kindness that won me over in the first place, huh?”

Delta gives a dragged-out rumble and reaches over to give Sinclair’s leg a little push to tell him not to be silly.

“It’s fine, I guess.” Sinclair looks to Eleanor. “Eleanor can avenge me.”

Eleanor gives a soft laugh, genuinely amused - and then crash goes the thunder, the rain keeps pelting down on the doors, and Eleanor is back out of her comfort zone -

(- then a couple of metal doors won’t be a match for it. It’ll…get in here and they’ll be…sucked up into it…And she remembers Amir’s book, telling her…how many people die to these things a year…)

Another nudge to her arm.

“Your turn, honey,” Sinclair says with a smile.

She forces a smile back and hits the popper, then moves her piece three spaces.

Sinclair rolls for his own turn -

(Nobody survives a tornado, right? What had the book said? She doesn’t remember. Is it possible to survive? No. No, she doesn’t think so. She doesn’t remember what the book had said, but she doesn’t think so. How can someone survive one of those things? They can’t -)

Crash goes the thunder, the rain pelts down, the wind howls -

“Well…I’m just gonna go ahead an’ come out an’ say it,” Sinclair says bluntly.

Eleanor looks at him wide-eyed, expecting him to announce they aren’t safe here anymore, the storm is going to come and they’re going to be whisked away -

“But I’m startin’ to theorise that you’re cheatin’, sport.” He stares down at the six on the die, then jabs a finger Delta’s way, barely hiding his smirk as he amuses himself. “I know I recognised your tendency ta be lucky in these games, but that luck’s gotta run out. I reckon that you’ve been sneakin’ a use of Telekinesis on this board, now, haven’t you?”

Delta waves a hand to bat away Sinclair’s accusations, then holds up his hands to show he’s not doing anything.

“Hmmmm - if you say so.” Sinclair relents, hand hovering over the board as he awaits Delta’s choice in which piece to move. “But I’ve got an eye on you, chief.”

Eleanor stares hard at Sinclair. Why isn’t he afraid? Isn’t he listening to what’s going on out there? It’s been at least twenty years since he moved to Rapture - in that time, hasn’t he…forgotten anything about living on the surface? Acquired any fears about things that should be normal up here?

(If the tornado is strong enough to pick up houses and cars, then…it can pick up Father, can’t it? He’s heavy enough to break a bed, but…but the tornado’s stronger than that, so it could pick him up. So if those doors don’t hold, if they fly open, then Father could be dragged out. And if he can get sucked up, then no doubt Augustus can too. And she weighs less than both of them, so she’ll go right with them. How long do these things take to go by? How long do they need to survive down here? When can she officially say they’re in the clear? Where is the time limit? She just wants this to end -)

“Eleanor?” Sinclair says, raising an eyebrow as he notices her staring at him. He checks over his shoulder in case she’s actually looking at something over there, then turns back. “You alright?”

Eleanor looks at him, sucks in a breath through her nose as she replies shortly, “Yes,” and then pushes the popper, then reaches out to move her peg the one space she earned -

A crash of lightning, the room goes black - Eleanor and Delta let out a gasp each, and Eleanor pushes her fingertips into the floor on either side of her as if she assumed the floor would disappear along with the light, her heart leaping into her throat.

Delta’s helmet lights come on and Sinclair gets up from the floor.

“I thought this might happen. Luckily, I packed some flashlights down here. Chief, gimme a hand, would ya?”

Delta gets up to position his lights where Sinclair needs them, while Eleanor desperately tries to keep herself from hyperventilating, feeling the backs of her eyes start to sting.

(This is it, isn’t it? This is it. The tornado’s close enough to cut the power, the house will be next -)

Her fingertips hurt from how hard she pushes them into the floorboards, trying to find some stability, to help her stay calm, as her lip quivers and tears blur her vision -

(- and then them, and she doesn’t want Father to die, she doesn’t want Augustus to die, she doesn’t want to die -)

“There we are,” Sinclair says, wandering back over, shining a torch over Eleanor’s head to avoid blinding her.

It’s still dark enough that Delta’s helmet lights remain on (and those lights are momentarily pointed toward the cellar doors as Delta takes a moment to watch them), even as he and Sinclair set about switching on the four torches they return with; Eleanor’s fingers curl into fists, palms wet with sweat as she breathes deep through her nose, and her tears begin to spill.

(She swears, she sees the door shake, so they’re about to burst open, this is it, this is it -)

They position the torches down so they can still see the game board, then Sinclair’s saying it’s still her -

(This is it, this is it, this is it, this is it -)

“Eleanor?”

(This is it, this is it, this is it, this is it -)

“Eleanor. Honey, what’s wrong?”

(This is it, this is it, this is it, this is it -)

There comes quick movement from her right as Delta shifts forward, towards her, and his large hand cups the back of her head as he rumbles to her, trying to ask what’s wrong, and Sinclair is staring at her, brow furrowed, and the dam finally bursts -

(This is it -)

Eleanor shakes her head fervently.

“No, no - I’m not okay! I want this to be over…!” Eleanor exclaims, then slaps her hands over her ears and ducks down against her knees. “I-I-I lied - I-I…I’m scared!”

Immediately, Delta’s arms are flung around her; he moves her as gently but as quickly as he can, sliding her across the floor to bring her to him, to situate her between his legs so he can hold her against his chest in a protective embrace.

She turns her head to hide her face in his chest, squeezing her eyes shut and holding onto him for dear life as one of his hands passes over her hair, stroking it as he warbles quietly to soothe her.

“Oh,” Sinclair says, unsure of what to say or do in this situation; he looks from Delta to her and back again, then awkwardly gets to his knees as he moves a little closer. “Oh - Uh - N-Now, it’s okay, honey, it’s alright. You’re gonna be just fine, you’ll see.”

Eleanor’s face scrunches up as she resists the urge to cry anymore, desperately hiding her face in Delta’s chest.

“That storm outside, it’s nothin’ compared to others we’ve had in the past! Just a little one, I swear it,” Sinclair adds.

Eleanor adamantly shakes her head; there are no little ones, all tornadoes are dangerous, she knows that, she knows that (she thinks), he’s just saying that so she’ll stop being silly.

As if it heard him, the weather decides to throw more at them - literally, as the wind howls and there comes clattering against the metal doors, close enough to their safe haven that Eleanor gasps and tucks her face against the curved front of Delta’s helmet, feeling the cool metal against her forehead as she tries to stop listening to the sounds outside, and Delta apparently tries to help her as he lets out another soft note of whalesong.

“Now, that wasn’t anythin’ to panic over,” Sinclair says quickly as he moves closer on his knees, hovering a hand close to his lap as he hesitates to touch her and invade she and Delta’s hug.

The weather must really hate him, because it proceeds to fight back against his claims once again.

Lightning strikes somewhere outside and there comes a crash of something falling down nearby, and in a moment of panic, Eleanor throws her arm back, out of Delta’s embrace -

“Honey -” Sinclair says, only to pause and look down.

Because Eleanor has grabbed his hand.

She’s wrapped her fingers around three of his and he can feel her hand shaking, but even as it quakes, she refuses to loosen her tight hold on him.

Sinclair stares for a moment, then looks to Eleanor’s face; she’s peeking at him from behind her hair, over her shoulder. He can see the fear in her eyes, the worry and concern; she’s not just scared for herself. He should’ve known - her grasp on his hand tightens, as though she thinks he’ll leave or that…something will happen to him. As though…it’s not just Delta’s reassurance that she wants.

He’s given pause; God knows, he does sometimes feel like a third wheel under his own roof, what with Delta and Eleanor’s bond, and how close they already were. Sure, he and Delta have their own unique bond - Delta is the best thing to ever happen to him, and he knows Delta feels similarly - but he and Eleanor…Well, he knows he wasn’t part of her plan for life after Rapture, and he’s got to be honest and say she wasn’t part of his, so he hadn’t been of the impression that she thought much of him.

Sinclair looks back down at the way she holds his hand…and he shifts his hand and closes his fingers around hers, holds her hand in return. As he looks to her face again, he feels an odd, protective feeling surge through him that he hasn’t felt in…well, he doesn’t know. It’s different than the protectiveness he’d felt when Delta had ventured into Persephone, but he feels like he’d gotten a taste of it before, when they’d been escaping Lamb’s army, when Eleanor had fought back Splicers to help protect him and Delta. Girl her age shouldn’t have been doing all that, and she shouldn’t be sitting here now, thinking they’re all going to die, when he’s sitting here, doing nothing.

Protectiveness over others is a thing he’d never felt before these two came into his life. What he’s feeling now, it’s not the kind of protectiveness he feels toward Delta, that’s for sure…but he has a frightening suspicion that this is similar to how Tenenbaum felt toward her girls, when she stopped seeing them as just hosts for those slugs.

As he looks back to her face, Sinclair’s expression hardens, letting go of the awkward uncertainty, and he reaches under his own arm to move aside the Trouble board, to avoid stabbing his knee with their game pieces. With it out of the way, he better moves over to the pair, and he reaches out with his other hand to gently touch Eleanor’s shoulder.

“Ah…sweet pea,” he says softly, “it’s alright. We’re gonna be just fine, I promise. Now, I’ve lived through tons o’ these kinds o’ storms, and I know it sounds nasty out there, but this is all just a normal occurrence whenever one o’ these mean suckers comes to town. Jus’ the kind o’ bad weather you can expect up here on the surface, and even then, it ain’t horribly often. But we’re perfectly safe down here, don’t you worry. It’s what this basement sits around waiting for.” He gives her a little smile. “Well, other than a wheelbarrow an’ some board games.”

Eleanor sniffles and asks shakily, “Is it…Is it going to hit us?”

“No, no, no. It’ll just pass us on by - we’re gettin’ the edge o’ the storm right now. I’d tell ya if we were in any danger, and I haven’t said a word of the sort, now, have I? Besides,” he releases her shoulder and gives Delta a little nudge on the arm, “we got your daddy here, and he wouldn’t let anything get at us, now, would he?”

Delta grunts to confirm this, then releases Eleanor with one arm and uses it to pull Sinclair in, to have him join the hug, to show he’s protecting Augustus too; Eleanor ends up almost sandwiched between them as Sinclair hugs Delta in return with his free arm, his other hand still clutched tightly in Eleanor’s grasp.

“There, now. See? Big guy’s holdin’ on to us, so now we’re bound to be fine. Everybody’s safe an’ sound,” Sinclair says to her. “Don’t worry, honey. Everything’s just fine.”

…

Eventually, the sounds of thunder and wind and debris flying about quietens down; it’d been easier to ignore when she’d been wrapped up in Delta’s embrace, with Sinclair’s hand in hers, getting the comfort she needed from the people who matter most to her, but now there’s no denying it - the noises out there have stopped.

Sinclair is the first to straighten up, looking toward the cellar doors.

“I think…the storm mighta subsided, at last,” he says.

He starts to edge out of the hug, obviously intending to go and check, only for Delta to make a small noise and release Sinclair, motioning with a hand wave for him to stay put. He gently coaxes Eleanor into moving closer to Sinclair, to tell her to stay with him, then he moves back to get to his feet.

“Be careful, Father!” Eleanor calls, holding Sinclair’s hand in one of hers and his shoulder in her other, as Delta walks toward the stairs leading up to the cellar doors.

Delta ascends them slowly, still listening out for anything outside, then he undoes the latches on the doors and pushes them open. There’s a shuffle of something falling off of the doors once they get to a certain angle; Delta peeks out at first, then steps up, out of the basement properly.

A moment goes by as Eleanor and Sinclair watch in case he comes back, then they hear him give out a note of whalesong, as he does when he wants their attention.

They look at each other, then Sinclair rises from the floor and motions for her to stay behind him as she gets up as well. Sinclair ascends the stairs, peeking out as well, then nods, satisfied, and gestures for Eleanor to follow their lead out of the basement.

The sky is still clouded with grey, but the rain and wind have stopped; the three look around themselves, at the sight of the leaves and bits and pieces of branches and abandoned trash scattered over their garden. A pile of them had gradually covered the entrance to the cellar, the culprit of that shuffling when Delta had pushed the doors open.

Eleanor turns to look out at the town; it’s hard to see properly because of the high fence around the property, but everything looks…okay. She then looks up at the house - there might be some debris up on the roof too, and she sees some clumped up on the windowsills, but besides that…no. Nothing looks destroyed, nothing looks…tarnished.

She hears Sinclair give a hum of disdain and turns to him, only to see him looking over at that tree just outside their fence, the very one she’d been observing earlier; one of the branches has been torn from the tree and has fallen to the ground, and the tree has been damaged to the point that its heartwood is showing, its bark splayed and torn.

Eleanor furrows her brow as she asks herself if the tree got hit by lightning or if the wind did that damage, but nonetheless breathes a sigh of relief - that must’ve been the crash they’d heard earlier. It’s close enough for them to have heard it inside the basement, and fortunately, it hasn’t hit their fence.

She follows Delta as he goes into the back garden to check on the damage done to his earlier work, as Sinclair leaves them to check on his car out front.

The leaves, branches and odd bits and pieces of rubbish have all littered their garden, covering the soaked topsoil Delta and Sinclair had put down earlier; Delta stares out at it, then sighs, a long puff of air projected into his helmet.

“I’m sorry about your garden, Father,” Eleanor says sympathetically, smiling at him. She falters then, at something else laid out over their yard. “What…is that? Over there, on the grass.”

Delta hums, curious, and walks over, just as Sinclair returns.

“Good news is,” he says, “my car is doin’ fine. Protective sheet did its job, an’ nothin’ scratched up my paint.” He looks over at what Delta’s doing. “What’s that, pumpkin?”

Delta stoops down to pick up one end of the long strip of…something - paper? They can’t quite tell, but it’s shimmering slightly; he holds it up for them to see, turning it over so they can see the other side. With the way he holds it and the way the strip is partly folded over, they can only see the colourful writing partway: HAPPY BIR -

Sinclair barks out a laugh. “Looks like someone was havin’ a birthday celebration before the storm hit! What a way to ruin a good bash.”

Delta spots something else on the grass and bends low, plucking it up and showing it to them - it’s a deflated, purple balloon, dangling uselessly from Delta’s finger and thumb.

Sinclair titters again, then cocks his head with a frown. “Though it looks like the storm equally wrecked our work on your potential rose garden, chief. We’ll hafta pick up where we left off after we clean up out here.”

Delta gives an exasperated groan as he observes the area around him, then carries the balloon and the banner back over to the porch, dragging the wet banner through the debris.

Eleanor smiles, then rubs her arms as she looks around.

Everything’s okay. Nobody got hurt, nobody got killed. The tornado hadn’t hit them, just got close enough to throw some branches from the trees and litter their clean gardens. Nothing that can’t be cleaned up.

“You alright, sweetie pie?” Sinclair asks as Delta dumps the balloon and banner down.

Eleanor’s smile turns awkward as she shrugs. “I…I feel a little bit embarrassed…I must’ve seemed so ridiculous, getting as scared as I did. You must’ve found it funny.”

“Ohhh. C’mon now.” Sinclair waves a hand as Delta joins them. “You weren’t anythin’ of the sort, and I didn’t let out even a chuckle in your direction. Tons o’ folks are scared of tornadoes like that - I’ve seen grown men cry like babies when a twister’s come by. Hell, if I was born in Rapture an’ you went an’ told me that the surface sometimes lets loose these giant, destructive tubes o’ clouds - well, I’d probably be scared just the same. Shook me up alright, first time I ever laid eyes on one, comin’ over the horizon.” He shrugs a shoulder with a smile. “I’m jus’ an old man, y’see. Had the time to get used to ‘em.”

Eleanor gives a soft chortle, and her smile stretches more genuinely as Delta gently pats her head, then rests his hand there as he warbles softly to her reassuringly.

He pats at his chest to tell her he was afraid too, and Eleanor’s smile pinches at one end; she’s not sure she believes him on that one, but she appreciates the attempt.

“And I guess,” Sinclair adds to that notion, smiling at Delta, “that either you’ve got some muscle memory in regards to how you handle storms, chief, or you’re braver than I thought, watchin’ you traverse Rapture, cause I didn’t see you shake even the once.”

Delta shrugs.

Believe him or not, he had been scared, but if they want an explanation for his lack of more intense fear, then it seems obvious to him: not only had he too been of the belief that if the situation was truly that bad, Augustus would have said something - Sinclair’s calmness allowed Delta to remain calm too - but he’d also simply been more concerned for his daughter and his partner than himself. Per the usual. Besides, he and Sinclair’s antics over the Trouble board just proved entertaining enough to distract him, just as the pair’s card games on the train down in Rapture had distracted him from his predicament (perhaps a little too entertaining this time - he feels awful that he hadn’t realised how frightened Eleanor had been sooner).

If his past self has ever dealt with storms like that, he doesn’t remember it.

For her part, Eleanor feels she should’ve given them more credit than she had; they aren’t like Mother, who practically scolded her for her childish fears. Even when he’d been a brainwashed slave, Father had supported her fears and her interests - he isn’t like Mother, she’s always known that. And Augustus…well, she doesn’t know him as well, obviously, but…maybe she should work a little harder to get to know him.

She looks at them both, back and forth, and says sincerely, “Thank you…”

Sinclair gives her a little smile. “Think nothin’ of it.”

Delta pats her head again and Eleanor beams up at him.

Sinclair nods toward the house. “Now, c’mon. Better go check on the inside, in case anything’s fallen over or broken.”

“And afterwards,” Eleanor says, “perhaps we can finish that game of Trouble we started?”

Sinclair titters. “Sure we can, sweetheart.” He puts on a mock frown as he leads the way back into the house, looking over his shoulder at Delta. “So long as your daddy quits his cheatin’ ways.”

Delta lets out a defiant growl to deny such accusations.

“Not to worry, Augustus,” Eleanor says, more confident than she’s felt all day, “I’ll have you both beaten.”

Sinclair barks out a laugh, and Eleanor grins and holds her head high as she follows her guardians inside.

#My writing #BioShock #BioShock 2 #biofluff #biofluff 2022 #Eleanor Lamb #Subject Delta #Augustus Sinclair #Deltaclair

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seeminglyseph · 9 months

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Something that is slightly funny about being Albertan is that… if you meet an Albertan probably they will convince you to have a donair. Which is honestly to clarify just kind of the style of doner kabob that localized here and people got used to calling “donair”

Trying to figure out how to explain the creamy sweet garlic sauce on a donair often leads to people imagining the worst things possible because I am a white person describing a mayo looking sauce as “sweet garlic cream sauce” which makes people go “oh you deserve hell for eternity”

But it’s kabob. It’s immigrant food fusion. Sweet garlic is still savoury, it’s like teriyaki. It’s just cream based instead of tomato based. Like Alfredo sauce.

Usually the main difference is that Alberta does need to almost a cultural degree and most places that do kabob do chicken or lamb. But it’s not specific, Alberta’s not special for Donair. We just like it a lot. So like even basic burger joints are maybe gonna have a kabob rig spinning in the back. And like half our mom and pop joints are going to be Donair based with burgers and fries getting second billing. I’ve seen people say “they act like they invented it” which, no, we just are like… huge fans. You don’t have to invent something to become obsessed.

We probably pronounced it really bad so often that native speakers just called the doner kabob a Donair to avoid confusion with other concepts, but it’s more like immigration caused a lot of restaurants to serve doner kabob with local ingredients, like most localized immigrant food culture, and it was so popular that it became a staple of the area.

But seriously, a sweet creamy garlic sauce, in the concept of Middle Eastern or Mediterranean cooking is like. “Yeah because the meat is spicy” it works. It just sounds bad because I’m selling it and I am paler than the sauce itself. If someone without a cultural history of crimes against mayonnaise was telling you a pita wrap with spiced meat and vegetables with a sweet creamy garlic sauce was one of the most popular foods you wouldn’t be side-eying so hard.

Also technically I’m pretty sure I’m too Scandinavian to commit mayo crimes, we pickle everything. We do pickle crimes. I live in a landlocked region I never saw a herring that never came out of a jar or can for most of my life. The things we can ferment would haunt your dreams forever.

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coffeebooksandmore · 27 days

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What has always impressed me by authors are the ones that write short stories. How are you able to shake me to my core in less than a few pages? In “Unaccustomed Earth” Lahiri writes stories about people living in all these different worlds physically and mentally. Lahiri dissects how we make it through all these strange lives we live in. I reside in many of these strange worlds. One world where I live with the world. Another where my mother’s happiness holds my goodness together. The story that gutted my heart was “Only Goodness.” I’ve only seen the worst and been disgusted by myself. “Only Goodness” that’s all I’ve ever wanted. How do you come to terms with how shame has dictated how you can live? The oldest daughter what a heavy title. Ordinanded from birth for a life of sacrifice. You make mistakes along the way which you still punish yourself to this day. I loved but not enough. I promised I’d bleed for you so you wouldn’t have to. But why can’t I look at you in the eyes? I've always tried escaping by finding a way to live through others lives. Lahiri writes about wants I’ve been ashamed to desire and the repentance I can’t seem to let the inner child in myself let go. I was young and had no guidance but still I should’ve known. I dreamt often of a life where no one needed me. A life alone of no commitments and no disappointments. I don’t see myself as the sacrificial lamb anymore. These stories reminded me of the pain I felt of living in all these worlds alone figuring my paths but also of the growth that always lead me to love.

coffeeandbookss

#book reviews #book review #book recommendations #book reccs #jhumpa lahiri #best books #reader #by the river #beautiful #thoughts about life #indian authors #butterfly #oldest daughter

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alexiusgoesrogue · 2 months

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Status Update: The longest Flight of my Life

I’m so glad to say it’s over. 14 hours of flying finally done. And despite having bought a neck pillow, I still wasn’t able to sleep in my seat the intended way, let alone without interruptions. At most, it can be described as a student napping in class, because that’s how it probably looked from the outside, too.

Not much more can be said about the flight honestly, except the food review and the fact that the air conditioning dried me up so bad, both my hands hurt when I put creme on them. And yes, I have been drinking throughout the whole flight.

I am writing this while waiting at my gate, surrounded only by Germans because obviously. This is a flight to Düsseldorf after all. One last notable thing, my lanyard once again has proven itself a good choice to bring with me. On my way to TSA through the queue line, a security guard saw me and let me skip the line to get to the machines quicker. I’m not gonna say my disability is giving me an advantage, but it sure is great to get off a plane after 14 hours and be treated this way.

***

Food Review:

Dinner

Green beans: 2/5, could have been way worse, but were still far from my favourite beans I’ve had so far

Roasted potatoes: 3/5, a bit better than the beans but still had a weird texture to the skin

Lamb Ragout: 5/5, it may have been the lack of sleep and the hunger kicking in at the same time, but this was absolutely delicious and exactly what I needed

Bread Bun: 4/5, totally edible without any butter etc, intentionally this time, is it was something brioche-esque

Mystery Salad: 5/5, I am yet to figure out what this dish was, because it looked as if it was a salad, based on the fact it contained lettuce and peas, but the yellow tear shaped things had the texture and a similar taste to that of noodles. And seriously, what kind of noodles would that be?

Chocolate: 3/5, not special, not absolutely horrendous. Just an average piece of chocolate

Chocolate Cake: 1/5, absolutely horrible texture, no idea what it was supposed to be, but I’m not a fan

Midflight Snack

Chicken Calzone: 4/5, pretty okay, just not a real banger in my books

Breakfast

Fruit: 4/5, it’s fruit, nothing spectacular. There was just one piece that really confused me with its flavour, thus I didn’t finish it

Muesli Bar: 3/5, very tough to chew (it was more ripped apart than chewed tbh), but decent taste

Frittata: 2/5, the potatoes pretty good, main course was edible but not my top cuz of the corn, mushrooms are far from my favourite food or ingredient, yet I still think I liked them more than the frittata

Yoghurt: 4/5, a bit more fruit for flavour would’ve been nice. But overall a very welcome dessert surprise (and an interesting way to find out I like blueberries.)

Croissant with margarine spread: 5/5, can’t be improved upon. I was honestly surprised how the (comparatively) sweet croissant tasted so great along with the slightly salted spread. And that’s coming from a person who absolutely distastes sweet-n-salty foods.

#new zealand #travel #dubai #god I can’t wait to be home ffs

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user-needs-new-hyperfixation · 2 years

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I think I figured out part of the energy that my brain is (admittedly very arbitrarily) assigning to the Billy + Sherlock/Liam dynamic.

There’s this thing that happens in fiction sometimes -- common enough that I’ve seen it multiple times, though I don’t know if there’s a well-recognized trope name for it or anything -- where a character who is in some kind of deep emotional distress will try to go in for a kiss with the person comforting them. There’s no actual sexual or romantic attraction between them, that’s just the instinctual way the person in distress reaches out for grounding and comfort.

Sometimes the character who is on the receiving end of the kiss or attempted kiss is gentle about putting them off, sometimes it’s a more abrupt refusal that plays into drama later.

This is obviously not something that would ever happen in canon, and I don’t really feel like actually writing the dialogue and setup needed to thoroughly fic it, but here’s the idea at least:

Imagine that Billy is Going Through Some Shit (possibly in connection to the almost inevitable reveal that Garrett is still alive).

For whatever reason it’s him and Liam alone when he has a Grade A breakdown, and Liam is deeply empathizing with a lot of the pain that comes spilling out. He’s also trying to draw from the ways that people loved him through his darkest times and reflect that back.

It’s evening, and they’re on the couch in Sherlock and Liam’s apartment, and Liam is holding one of Billy’s hands in both of his and trying to offer validation and reassurance of how valued Billy is. And Billy, tears streaming down his face, suddenly lurches in and presses his lips against Liam’s.

Liam’s eye is wide and startled, but he does not panic or shove. Instead he allows the contact for a moment, and then very gently puts his hand on Billy’s shoulder and eases him back. Billy is right on the tremulous edge where rejection would break him, but Liam puts his hands on his cheeks and brushes tears from his eyes and says softly but certainly,

“You know that’s not what you need from me, Billy.”

He opens his arms, and Billy falls into them, and Liam lets himself topple over to lay on the couch while Billy just sobs into his chest. He pets through Billy’s hair until he finally cries himself out and falls asleep, and Liam just stays there with his arms going tingly and a crick forming in his neck.

Sherlock comes home not long later, and quirks a questioning eyebrow at Liam, who waves him over. He kneels by the side of the couch so Liam can talk quietly without waking Billy, and Liam tells him everything. Sherlock is clearly not truly upset, but he does pout theatrically, and Liam rolls his eye and whispers,

“He breathed life into both of us, once. He just needed the favour returned.”

Sherlock’s eyes are soft and understanding, but he still leans over to kiss Liam, and Liam lets him but then flicks him on the nose for the possessiveness.

They wake Billy gently, just enough that he stands, wobbly as a newborn lamb. And they guide him into their own bedroom, and into the center of the mattress, and into a deep sleep fostered by the simple and uncomplicated intimacy of socked feet and warm pajama-clad shoulders bumping his every time a dark dream threatens his rest.

#yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #fic #sort of #my brain: hey what if sherliam are each other's One True Love & very monogamous & whatnot but also very down for three-way platonic cuddles?#things i wrote to avoid my main wip

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bonegrieve · 7 days

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Headcanon: Riqyn & A Bhaalspawn's Purpose ( Put below a cut as it contains talk of CSA, SA, self harm/mutilation, and child abuse. Cult stuff. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. )

I haven't really touched this part of Riqyn's backstory / character because it's a very dark topic and while I understand that I have been nothing but forthcoming about the contents of my blog, this backstory pushes my own personal comfort level. I’ve been content to leave it hazy and forgotten as part of Riqyn’s nature as a Dark Urge playthrough, but it isn’t true to her character. She does not get tadpoled. She remembers everything except for what her mind has forced her to forget as a trauma response. But this still remains content I would not be comfortable bringing up in a thread, so I’ve hesitated to post anything about it. But after talking to (@)musezieren about a cut Dark Urge ending that I didn't know about, I figured I should just probably stop shying away from it because it is canonical, it is fucked up, and if I make a post about it, I can always reference it under caution. Its a very big part of the reason Riqyn is the way she is - it would be disingenuous to her character to simply ignore it. So without further ado, Riqyn’s full backstory under the cut.

Riqyn's entire purpose, the whole reason she was made, was to be a breeder. She was never meant to be the Chosen. Her role was never as a leader or priestess, never as a sacrificial lamb. She was always meant to be a cog in a well-oiled machine, and never anything more than that. Bhaal tried to "prepare" her for such a life by hand-choosing the human couple that would raise her. The husband was a serial predator of girls and young women, and the wife looked past it because it meant she wasn't getting raped and abused. She was a victim herself, but despite that, Riqyn blamed her for a lot of the abuse she suffered. In her eyes, her mother was supposed to protect her from harm. Instead she perpetuated it by remaining silent. The abuse started young, and continued until their deaths when she was a preteen; leading to her unhinged personality. Like most children who are abused, she developed a pattern of violent, unruly, and worrying behaviors that raised a lot of concerns among other parents and children alike.

Unfortunately, they chalked it up to her being a Tiefling, rather than any potential psychological issue or abuse. It was not uncommon to see her come home with black eyes or scraped knees from fights she had gotten into, but this was not appreciated. Her father especially was worried about her behavior drawing too much attention to himself and his misdeeds, and would beat her regularly for acting out. Her parents simply could not and did not want to handle her unruly behavior properly. When she finally snapped, she killed them both; ending her mother’s life quickly and mercifully while she enjoyed the slow torture of her father’s death over several days.

By the time she’s recalled to the temple in her teens, Bhaal has already prepared a set of suitors who would produce incredibly powerful Bhaalspawn children. However, due to the abuse she suffered, she had not developed enough physically in order to conceive and bear children. A small issue, which time would resolve quickly enough. While waiting for such a time, she was assigned as the attendant of the Chosen. The specifics of her role vary depending on the interaction/verse, but consist of things like sexual gratification of the Chosen, a live prey item for murder practice or enjoyment ( she would be revived after ), companionship for the Chosen, and any other activities the Chosen assigned her. It was during this time that she trained and honed her blade skills without Bhaal's blessing.

Once Riqyn came of age ( finally, in her very late teens to early twenties, again depending on verse ) scars and bruises became punishable offenses. That meant anyone who brought undue harm to her could be killed. As her body needed to be in "excellent form", intensive physical activity such as sparring was also expressly forbidden. She was removed from her role as attendant and set into the life she was meant to live. Her room was far more lavish than most, as it served to host many of Bhaal’s most powerful allies — the ones who would sire his army of Bhaalspawn. It was, however, little more than a prison cell for the young woman. She was isolated and lonely, and had to host as many of her father’s chosen sires as she possibly could. She was never allowed to say no, no matter who or what walked through her door. From this, she surmised she simply needed to make him love her more. She sought this love through obedience, growing numb to the grim reality of her life and accepting her fate. She grew close with Orin, capitalizing on their shared love of Bhaal. Despite it all, there was little that could prepare her for the shock of actually conceiving a child. It would have been the first of many, a realization that shattered her calm acceptance and sent her spiraling again for the second time in her life.

In a fit of fear and bloodlust, she took a blade to her belly, cutting out the parts of her that Bhaal had forced her to carry; throwing them onto a burning altar before collapsing from blood loss. She was rushed to Kressa Bonedaughter to mend, but before she could find suitable replacement organs, the Chosen fell into her lap. With a far more important and interesting task at hand, Riqyn remained injured and unresponsive until waking up in the wreckage of a Nautiloid. An accidental shipment crashed and lost among the wilds Faerûn; forever freed from her duty.

#🦴 headcanon ( riqyn )#heed the warnings

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decks-writing-blog · 2 years

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Merciful God

I've seen a few people do AU in which the Bishops join the cult in diminished forms similar to how the One Who Waits does. I like them but also I had the thought that Lamb could perhaps just bring them back to life afterwards too and I also wanted to write them bringing Sozo back to life so I figured why not combine the two ideas into one fic.

When the Red Crown had only been a borrowed item, Lamb had only been able to reach so far into Death and thus only able to pull back those connected to them through worship and loyalty. Now though, with the full power of the crown unlocked, they could reach deeper and more importantly further.

They found Leshy first. Fitting considering they’d killed him first. They grabbed him. He fought, perhaps instinctively, perhaps because he didn’t want to be brought back, or maybe a little of both. Regardless, it was useless.

The throng murmured nervously as Leshy’s body – diminished, much like the One Who Waits’ new form, as he too was no longer a god – rose up out of the ground with that strangled wet burbling cough they were all so familiar by now. He landed on his feet with sharp intake of breath. Before he could say anything though…

“What is the meaning of this?” Narinder snapped with a slight growl to his voice. “Why would you bring him back?”

Knowing he wouldn’t like it, Lamb hadn’t told him – or anyone really – that they’d intended to do this. “Unlike you and the Bishops, I intend to be a merciful god. I give second chances.” Also, bringing them back to life as powerless and without any followers made Lamb’s victory over them even more potent.

They turned their attention back on Leshy. Looking down at him from the podium felt good. He was in their power now.“Leshy, I killed you and now I’ve brought you back, proving that I am greater and far more powerful than you. Do you vow to pledge yourself to me in gratitude for my mercy and forgiveness?”

Their eye restored, Leshy looked up at them warily, distrusting them for obvious reasons that he would just have to deal with as he was too powerless to do anything about it. “You’ll kill me again if I don’t.”

“No. I will merely send you out to find your own way in the world.” Let him live in fear for however long he managed to survive out there. Or perhaps he would prosper out there, who could say.

He hesitated, his gaze going to where the One Who Waits stood as part of the follower circle. Who stood so that his back was to Lamb though so what kind of look, if any, he might have given Leshy in return was impossible to see. After a few moments, Leshy turned his gaze back up onto Lamb. “Very well.” He fell to his knees, bowing his head and putting his hands together in prayer. “I pledge myself to you in gratitude for your mercy and forgiveness.”

“Good! Now stand and join the circle. We have more business to attend to this day.”

Sticking to the order that Lamb killed them in, next was Heket. She reacted much the same as Leshy had, wary but ultimately gave in and bowed her head without much of a fight. Then came Kallamar and Shamura, both of whom also bowed their heads without much need of convincing.

By now though, Lamb was exhausted and about ready to just lie down for a nap even if they no longer needed to sleep. There was a reason they didn’t often do rituals in quick succession. They didn’t let it show though as they looked out over their followers, now four people bigger. None of them were happy to be here and it shown on their faces and the way they shuffled their feet and whispered not so covertly to each other. Lamb couldn’t blame them; the revival ritual was not one that was pleasant to witness. Lamb now held near complete dominion over death though so everyone was just going to have to get used to it or leave.

So, ignoring the crowd’s unrest as well as their own exhaustion, they clapped their hands down on the podium. “One more and then we feast.” That got a few positive murmurs, thankfully.

Finding Sozo’s soul was far easier than the Bishops; in the end he’d been loyal after all. Also, unlike the Bishops, he allowed Lamb to pull him up without much of a struggle.

The first thing he did after taking his new first breath was giggle. Before he could say anything though, Lamb cut in. “Next time, Sozo, be more careful not to overdose, all right?”

“Oh, oh, of course, of course.” He nodded. “But Sozo had never had access to so much before. It was wondrous.”

Too tired to explain why taking drugs was okay and good but taking too much was not, Lamb raised their arms up in the air and clapped their hands together above their head. “Now it is time for a feast to celebrate my now complete reign over this land.”

That raised a cheer from most of the crowd, loud in such a small building. Soon they would likely have to make their church bigger, possibly much bigger. And they’d have to anoint priests to carry their word even further. That was for future them to worry about though. For now, they just needed to get through this feast and then go find a place they could rest for a while.

#cult of the lamb #the lamb #bishops #leshy #heket #shallamar #shumura #halloween 2022

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medievaljedi · 11 months

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I’ve been thinking about the Bicameral Mind and AI and I think Joyce is on to something, sort of. Which is to say that the noticed pattern is there, but he doesn’t interpret it quite right.

What I see in these stories that are used to describe a “bicameral mind” is something a bit more interesting. The stories themselves are extremely interesting because they seem to take everything that happens *literally*. Ares doesn’t just show up as a voice in some person’s brain. He isn’t just heard. He’s not even just seen and heard. He participated in the battle to the point of not only killing people, but being wounded and bleeding. Abraham doesn’t just hallucinate god, but makes god a literal meal that he (and his companions) eat. Zeus is literally born, is literally a baby who cries and who can be killed.

Even heaven and the afterlife are extremely literal. Hades is underground, and in fact can be visited through caves. Olympus is a mountain. The gods and the spirits of the dead eat and drink. Plato actually warns followers not to drink from the well of Lethe so they can remember who they were when reborn. Persephone is condemned to hades for every seed of a pomegranate she ate in Hades.

The people writing this stuff are taking everything that happens in these stories quite literally. The gods literally eat and drink, get wounded, live in physical bodies in physical places. The dead likewise live underground (where they were buried) in a place that, being underground can be visited through caves. This is very concrete thinking, and the beings thought about are concrete beings.

So my thought is that it doesn’t have to be a hallucination at all. It’s simply that in the era when these stories were first recorded, the people writing them cannot fathom anything beyond actual physical realities of life on earth. They cannot think abstractly. Life after death is literally that — a continuation of exactly what happens on Earth, complete with eating and drinking and in a physical world that while underground, isn’t that much different than life above ground. They write their gods as physically showing up because they can’t really conceive of a being that doesn’t audibly speak, and can’t comprehend one that doesn’t have a physical body much like a human does. They can’t understand the idea of an abstract reality where god or the gods are simply spirits that don’t have real bodies. They can’t conceive of a dead sprite who is just floating around.

What I think people miss is just how much our understanding of the universe has changed even since then. Our minds have learned to think about abstractions, and then to think about abstractions abstractly. When we still worked with machines directly, the idea was create a device to directly do one thing. A machine to make one type of part. Later we created a machine that we could give direct instructions to so it could do lots of things (and most people use a pocket version to play candy crush). AI is a step farther into meta cognition— not only are we not directly creating the thing, nor are we building something to create the thing, we’re not even creating a device we can give instructions to to make the thing. AI is creating a thing that we teach to understand things and thus it can figure out for itself how to make things.

In the year 1000 BC, everything was on a very low level, directly experienced by sight, smell, touch, etc. You raised sheep, and your idea of math was counting sheep adding new lambs and subtracting those eaten by lions. There was no need for a deeper understanding of that. Real things do real things. Once you get into having a government, you need to think abstractly, begin to use numbers to keep track of taxes, people, goods, and so on. As society gets more complex, you need to be able to think more and more abstractly. Not just taxes paid, but anticipating trends like weather, military activity, trade. Eventually as science answers more questions, you not only need to anticipate but shape events.

#blog post #bicameral

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asexualbookbird · 2 years

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ITS BEEN A HELL OF A TWO MONTHS, YALL. Family problems, health problems, disabled problems, this summer sucks lol I read a lot this month thanks to the readathon, so I get some of the good brain juices from that little accomplishment. One month closer to my best friends wedding which I am so excited for, discovered I like mango so long as it’s not fresh (so candied, dried, jellied), figured out the right card combo to get high scores in SIF, there were good things peppered throughout the bad. Still wish life didn’t happen so fast.

BOOKS

Year of the Reaper ⭐⭐ (May)

Salt Fat Acid Heat (May)

Summer Sons⭐⭐⭐⭐(May)

Of A Feather (May)

Beasts of Prey ⭐(June)

The Library At Mount Char ⭐⭐ (June)

Across A Field Of Starlight ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (June)

The Deep & Dark Blue ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (June)

The Ikkesar Falcon ⭐⭐⭐ (June)

This Is How You Lose The Time War ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (June)

OTHER MEDIA

The Magnus Archives

Ringfit

Love Life School Idol Festival

Project Diva

The Adventure Zone: Ethersea

The Penumbra Podcast

Pokemon Alpha Sapphire

FOOD

grilled lamb chops (birthday dinner!)

cinnamon challah

overnight french toast (made from cinnamon challah)

chocolate chips cookies (twice, both Bad for some reason??)

chicken roast

banana bread

banana pudding

poached fish

BERRY PIE

buffalo wings

teriyaki chicken

sausage rolles

fig squares

PEACH PIE

I left non fiction books unrated because it feels weird to rate Real Things. SFAH is a very good resource, especially if you’re new to cooking. A lot of it was stuff I already new, but it had me thinking about it in different ways, which is always good. The recipes are also easy to follow and I love the pull out flavor charts.

I finished The Magnus Archives in May and I loved it so much it took everything I had not to immediately start it again. I still might though. I miss Jon and Martin and Basira and Melanie and

I listened to an entire season and then some of The Penumbra Podcast and decided it was Not For Me. It’s Fine and I see what they were going for, but I wasn’t enjoying it. Walks were no longer fun. I thought it was because I enjoyed TMA so much, I was comparing it, like when I was reading Project Hail Mary all I could think was “I’d rather be reading Murderbot”, but sometimes! That’s because the thing you’re consuming isn’t fun! And that’s okay! Also hated that it was a mostly funny and slapstick show and then they blew up a cat.

Started Alpha Sapphire, but I’m taking my time with it. Sapphire was my favorite game growing up, my best friend (WHO IS GETTING MARRIED I LOVE HER) gave it to me in sixth grade and I swear I put a good 900 hours into it AT LEAST. And then another, different also besty friend got me Alpha Sapphire for my birthday this year and I get to repeat the process. It means so much to me, my friends as always are a shining light in my life, I love yall so much.

I have stomach issues again and my mom is dealing with Gross Smells (don’t know if it’s covid related, neither of us ever tested positive), so food hasn’t been a big thing recently. The peach pie was less a pie and more a bowl of peaches with pie crust on top (can’t have a soggy bottom if you don’t have a bottom). It was still good and I still ate it all, don’t get me wrong, but it’s less fun when others can’t enjoy it with you.

July goals? I don’t know lol SIF finally closed up their anniversary events so I look forward to not playing that as often. I’d like to do some art this month since crocheting is still painful and cooking isn’t the same when it’s just me. I need a creative outlet. I need to send off a gift box and get wedding shoes (why is shoe shopping so hard), I want to read the stack of books on my desk (leftovers from the Readathon and library books and books I’m Maybe Feeling Like Reading), I’d like to do another puzzle, and since I’ve finally discovered a way that audibooks work for me, I can read AND puzzle at the same time! Life hacked!

Here’s to July, may you get your shit together.

#bookbird babbles #reading wrap up #Monthly wrap up #june wrap up #and may but ssssshhhhhh #also very scared of getting my next injection considering the last one likely sent me to the ER but theres no Proof until i get this one soo #i hate having a body lol

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pomthots · 1 year

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of malibu fog, centipedes, and wonho

malibu fog

fog a staple of the san francisco bay, where tides move under gray skies, this fog was familiar when my dad came to my school as a kid and pulled me out of class, kid me wondering if i have a doctor’s appointment but no, it was my dad’s way of wanting to spend time with me. getting into the truck and driving into the freeway, you know LA is all freeway. he had this idea of wanting to take me to malibu where there was a deep fog rolling on the ocean front. i’m clicking around the random stations, but he only listens to soft rock. “new kid in town,” by eagles was my choice this time, you have to pick the right song. this man was the only adult in my life that spoke both english and spanish. his love of music transferred over to me. there was something to say about a sad song with a banger chorus. he would say “[ yulie prácticatu voz alomejor tienie algo especial]" his words encouraging me to explore my talents not just my voice but any of my interests. he saw himself in me: i was the daughter he could have a second chance with, the daughter you place your american dreams in. malibu was still foggy this early in the morning and those multimillion dollar homes lined up the pacific coast highway. as a kid i always felt lonely at the beach even though i spent a lot of time there. my dad wanted to fish and he explained to me, this is the place to go, malibu. we looked for bait but the smell from bait was gross and I was like I hope I don't have to touch fish. before this we pulled down the bed of his truck and sat in the parking lot, my legs swinging back and forth. my dad takes out his fishing pole. he seems proud. i was happy i wasn't in class, i was with my dad who rarely spent time with me but he always wanted to be with his daughter, he just always chose something else.

here we were with fishing poles looking out into the gray skies as the fog rolled in, only catching starfish. though the fog rolling in now comes from the bay, this is still the same daughter you picked up in elementary school.

centipedes + entomology

insect with many legs, crawling often found under logs. i’ve come to know you as this cute picture from a book, harry the poisonous centipede, by lynne banks. i would read about his adventures, really the first book that didn’t have that many pictures. i remember going into the small school library it had to fit all these kids and we just had to have reading time. i was a reader of anything insect. it was my phase, ladybugs, butterflies, and now centipedes. i was looking for one to add to my investigative journalism era. if you look it up they are ugly unlike my cute centipede in my book this was like a nightmare version. they thrive under damp wood, crawl spaces and bathrooms. i guess this thing loved humidity. i could never find them only really found worms and what i called rolly-pollies. i really just wanted to know how each thing came to be and what they ate. i figured it was leaves 🍃 and no book i found gave good information. so here i was following harry around in his adventures hoping he lived because he was a small centipede in a big world. i would turn up every rock or wood i found hoping to catch a harry out on an adventure in his natural habitat. never really taking into account he was poisonous, kids really don’t give a fuck when they obsess. i just wanted to meet a harry in real time, successful young entomologist, always curious and always OBSESSED.

wonho for the gays, girls, and theys

wonho now a solo artist, he really is known as the k-pop star with a comeback. so it was fitting for me to name my cult “wonhoes”. this isn't just some cult like charles manson it's a game “cult of the lamb”. i am a little lamb in charge of my followers. the aim is to keep them alive: i feed them, clothe them, they worship me. i am their relentless leader. being a leader is hard. i needed to have a name that was fitting for a cult, and i love wonho. if you know k-pop you know that as a k-pop fan you make sacrifices and your love for wonho must be unwavering. my man wonho is for the gays, girls, and theys (very cunty, slay king) and i am all of the above so it's fitting for my cult to be “wonhoes”. i agonize over how to keep my followers happy or even alive, i painfully make choices and even cry when someone passes. i wanted a game to help me relax but now i'm a leader who has to keep my wonhoes happy. I’M STRESSED. i miss wonho, he is in the military service so we don't get thirst traps or cute IG lives. so here i am making him my background and hoping he comes back from the military. after all, i am and always will be his faithful follower.

#some thoughts for my thots

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nehswritesstuffs · 9 months

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banish every gaslight; let clarity shine - Part 3

I’m really proud of part of this and I’ll let you figure out which part it is

Part 1 [FFN/AO3] - Part 2 [FFN/AO3]

Bullets have been fired, moves are being made, and Law realizes a crucial detail far, far too late. [2428 words; AU where there is a Third Corazón, whose very existence makes Law’s life hell]

He doesn’t know she’s alive.

Viola’s words rang through Baby 5’s head as she navigated the palace’s corridors. She skittered to a halt in front of the Hall of Suites and barreled headlong inside, hoping that she wasn’t too late. Her heels scraped against the floor as she slid to a stop—Antonia was not there… and neither was Law. Good.

“…and what are you doing here, Baby 5…?”

Blood running cold, Baby 5 turned to see Trebol standing next to the door, leering at her from behind his glasses. She looked around—Sugar was not there—yet she knew she was caught.

“I asked: what are you doing here?”

“What I do has never been any of your business,” she replied firmly.

“Except, I have not been at the Young Master’s side for as long as I have without learning how to identify the cogs of rebellion,” he explained. He then sniffled, sucking some snot into his nose. “You disappoint me, girl… you disappoint the Young Master…”

“The only person I have to worry about disappointing is my superior officer,” she reminded him. “Wouldn’t her approval matter the most if it is what beats life into the organization?”

“You almost sound clever…” Trebol frowned. “You were not taken in by the Young Master because you were clever…”

“Then why was I taken in?” she asked. He stayed silent and she turned her arm into a rifle. “Think about it: why was I taken in? We all know I’m not smart… so then why? He doesn’t do things for no reason.”

“You used to have such a desire to be needed… where did it all go…? You would have done anything for the Young Master when we first brought you into the Family…”

“I found something better to dedicate my life to other than being a sacrificial lamb,” she replied, finally giving voice to something she figured out a long time ago. “That’s where you all went wrong.”

“…by giving you a home…?”

“…by giving me a sister.”

“You’re dumber than we thought.”

Baby 5 turned around at the sound of the new voice, only to be met with Gladius’s hand as it exploded in her face, knocking her unconscious. She collapsed into his arms and he was able to lift her up with ease.

“First Violet, now her,” Gladius noted. “We almost should keep an eye on Antonia at this rate…”

“I knew we should have had that woman fix them as well,” Trebol huffed. He waited as Gladius brought Baby 5 to him for inspection—it was such a waste. “Neutralize and dump her. I’ve got to get back to Sugar, just as I’m sure Pica and the Young Master have orders for you.”

“Understood.” Gladius shifted Baby 5’s unconscious form in his arms before looking at Trebol. “How long do you think this has been going on?”

“Long enough,” the older man sniffed sourly. To say he didn’t like this was an understatement. “Now be quick about it; we don’t need the Young Master finding out about this until he absolutely has to.”

Gladius shivered before making to leave—he was not going to enjoy this.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The first thing that Baby 5 noticed was the searing pain in her shoulder. Everything else filtered in quickly after that: the throbbing headache; the way her legs felt like lead; the jagged, stiff, unforgiving surface she was laying on; metallic and bloody tang sitting on the back of her tongue; the… rank scent of… sweat…?

“I think she’s coming around.”

She inhaled sharply as she sat up, realizing precisely where she was. Gladiators from the tournament were sitting around her, most staring at her as though the sight confused them.

“Shit…” she cursed. “I have to get out of here…”

“We all do,” a grey-haired man frowned. Dread settled over Baby 5 as she realized that she was looking directly at King Riku Doldo III, the monarch that they had deposed ten years prior. “I have to admit: it is a surprise to see you in here. I didn’t think it’d be a safe place for a member of the Donquixote Family.”

“No one is safe in here,” she said, looking up at the ceiling. Knowing they were being monitored, she didn’t dare speak the truth of the chamber’s purposes or else she would be a target in an instant. “We have to get out of here. Now.” She tried to turn into a rocket and couldn’t, instead falling on her face. “What the…?”

“You were bleeding from a fresh wound on your shoulder when they threw you down here,” a man said as he helped her up. He seemed to be a few years older than her, unlike most of the others. Aside from a few younger fighters, many of them were the Young Master’s age and older. “We tried to see if there was something we could do, but whatever it is that’s in there is stuck.”

“Stuck…?” Her eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline. “Shit—they put seastone in me.”

“…and the big question is: why would they do that?”

Baby 5 stared at the former king awkwardly, with most of the others in the pit keeping their eyes on her instead. She knew the former regent must have suspected something was up, yet she didn’t know how much he was privy to…

“I proved my loyalty was not to Doflamingo,” she replied gravely. “They don’t take kindly to that.”

“Who is your loyalty towards, my dear?” an old man with a pointy head asked. Baby 5 swallowed hard, bracing herself for a trail of mucus to come down and snatch any one of them.

“The girl who became Donquixote Antonia,” she said. “I promised I’d never forget her… that I’d always take care of her…”

“The princess…?” someone else asked. She nodded.

“The princess, the Corazón, the one I grew up with…” She exhaled heavily, almost as though she was accepting her fate. “I don’t want her to get lost.”

“…and why, of all things, would she be lost?” another wondered. Shit—she knew him as a neighboring monarch. “All the times I’ve seen her, she has seemed very grounded in her ambitions.”

“I don’t know how much I can tell you without getting us all in danger,” Baby 5 said, her eyes flicking to the ceiling for a moment, “but if you are to believe anything I’ll ever say, it’s that there is much more to Nia than you can ever know.”

“Why should we believe you?” the foreign monarch huffed. Baby 5 felt a chill wash over her, knowing she needed to make this count.

“…because nothing is what it seems here in Dressrosa, not even our dear princess.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Unaware of anything else outside of himself, everything about Law hurt as he drifted back into consciousness. It hurt even more than when he blacked out, his entire body screaming silent obscenities. The seastone cuffs burned at his wrists, attempting to distract him from the rest of his injuries. He was certain there were ruptures and internal bleeding, some of which weren’t even related to having been shot in the open street like a mad dog, but if he could only open a Room…

“Ah, you’re awake,” Doflamingo chuckled. Law’s eyes snapped open and he inhaled sharply—shit, breathing hurt. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been able to talk.”

“Fuck off,” Law hissed. He then realized he was on a chair. Looking, he saw that it was the Heart Seat… they were in the Hall of Suites, it having been recreated in this foreign land. “Still into tacky interior design, I see.”

“You wouldn’t know tacky if you were drowning in it,” Doflamingo replied. “Even if you did, it’s not like you could appreciate it. I mean, your ship is yellow…”

“What are you going to do to me?” Law asked, voice quiet. “Was taking my family away from me not enough?”

“Taking your family away? I’m hurt.” The older man gave a wicked grin, all sharp and gnashing. “If anything, I’ve preserved your family.”

“Tell that to Cora-san,” he hissed. “I heard you found someone else to sit here—what broken kid did you find so you could feed them lies?”

Because he knew who it couldn’t be—she was long-dead and he was only going to invoke her name when it would be most-needed.

Instead of taking the bait, Doflamingo’s Haki pressed down on Law, stressing his injuries.

“It should have been you, Law,” the older man jeered. “You would have been perfect. I was preparing you to be a wonderful, loyal Heart for my organization. You were to be the Third Corazón! I gave you everything!”

“The gifts you gave me were to keep me distracted, to let you continue to abuse me, abuse us,” Law spat, careful not to sully her name by putting it in his ears. “I’m not going to fall for any of it, Doflamingo. That time has long passed.”

“…which is why I prepared such a fitting end for you,” the older man grinned. “Fufufu… Antonia, someone is sitting in your seat.”

It was then that someone stepped out of the shadows, completely hidden to Law’s blurred vision until then. She was about as tall as him in her heeled boots and otherwise was hitting the description of the Third Corazón perfectly. His chest tightened as she approached him, looking as though she was trying to be him.

“So you are the one the others have made such a fuss about,” she frowned. She folded her arms underneath her half-opened roquelaure and frowned, the lipstick on her face twisting cruelly. “Now what are we to do with you?”

“Fuck off,” Law snarled. So much about this was wrong… her Northern accent filtering through Dressrosan tones, the Water 7-esque mask adorned in the tell-tale sunburst he had watched Cora-san paint on every day… how confident and cocky she was about the whole thing…? It was like a lie made specifically to torture him and him alone. “I don’t know what sort of kicks you get by trying to imitate him, but it’s not going to work on me.”

“Imitate who? My father? You’re as dense as they come, aren’t you?” Corazón braced the Heart Seat with her foot and hefted Law up by the shoulder of his coat, ramming him into the backrest. “I just want to know why it was you he chose… why you were supposed to inherit his seat.”

“You can drop the gaslighting,” he wheezed. “Donquixote Rosinante had no children.”

“He had me, and I don’t remember you being around, so now who’s gaslighting?” she snapped. “You know, people usually just call that lying.”

“My underground criminal empire isn’t at risk; why would I lie about something like that?” He met her eyes behind the mask—amber and haunting and so much unlike Cora-san’s—and dread settled over him. “I was in Spider Miles for three years before Cora-san died… why don’t you remember me?”

“I was young, grieving; plenty of reasons.”

“…then why don’t I remember you…?”

Corazón snarled as she threw Law down onto the stone floor behind her, choosing instead it sit on the Heart Seat herself. He hacked and coughed as he willed himself to his knees to glare at her. She sat tall and proud, the sun from the window bathing her in a soft light that glinted off her mask and the brooch that held her cloak in place…

…her brooch.

“What is it? It looks familiar.”

“It was Oma’s.”

“What’s the matter, Law?” Doflamingo wondered, false innocence layered on his voice. The younger man snapped from his memory, eyes wide and breath hitched. Doflamingo crouched down and held Law’s jaw in one oversized hand, forcing him to look at Corazón. “See something that brings you back to old times?”

“It was hers,” Law croaked. “Why didn’t you bury it with her?”

“Now why would I do that if the owner is right here?” He then turned to Corazón, smug and confident. “Fufufu… Antonia, darling, do your Uncle Doffy a favor and take off your mask, will you?”

She tilted her head curiously. “Now…? But why…?”

“Some people need to see to believe.”

A nod and Corazón complied, untying the mask and letting her hair down in one movement. She shook the strands loose and focused once again on Law. His stomach dropped as he realized who she was, unable to look away, unable to run to her.

She looked just like their mother, except with their father’s eyes.

“L… Lami…?” he breathed. “Lami… oh, seas, Lami… how are you…?”

“Lami…?” Corazón scoffed. “Who is that?”

Fuck, Law wanted to be sick. He did not feel Doflamingo let go of him or the oppressive weight of his Haki lift. All he knew was that she was staring at a face he never expected to see until he was long dead.

“You…” he replied, voice wavering. “You’re Lami.”

“Antonia,” she corrected, using a Dressrosan flair. “I am and have always been Donquixote Antonia, Daughter of Rosinante and Heir to my Uncle Doflamingo’s empires.” She then stood, towering over him. “Who do you think you are, Trafalgar Law?”

“…your brother…”

“I have no brother.”

“Lami…” Tears welled in Law’s eyes as he tried to not break down. “What did he do to you…?”

“Fufufu… I have only taken care of my last surviving blood family member,” Doflamingo lied. “I found her in a treasure chest—my brother’s precious little daughter—after I thought I was the last of our line. She had stowed away, you see, and escaped the fate her father did when he was murdered by Marines. Now she is my pride and joy, heir to my kingdom and empire, the Heart that keeps my organization beating and full of life.”

“That’s not true…” Law hissed. “What the fuck did you do to her?!”

“Uncle Doffy raised me, like any good uncle would his orphaned niece,” Antonia replied coolly. When Law did not respond, she kicked him in the stomach, bending him in two. “Well? What do you have to say about that?”

“The clasp of your cloak is Flevench in make,” he coughed. “It belonged to our grandmother—it was made before Amber Lead was discovered…”

“Flevance burned for its sins long ago; if you’re going to tell a lie, at least make it a good one.”

The toe of her boot connected with his face and the world went black.

#One Piece #fan fiction #Trafalgar Law #Baby 5 #Donquixote Doflamingo #Donquixote Pirates #gonna get into nitty gritty next chapter #it has me super excited #bc Doffy's diabolical (tho we all knew that already)#and now down here due to spoilers:#Trafalgar D. Water Law #Trafalgar D. Water Lami #Trafalgar Lami

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libidomechanica · 10 months

Text

Despite thy worth of Lovers are

A sonnet sequence

They stand up to wave. To answer bring, and see their stations, expectant, powerless, fenced-in skin that in his chamber, where they Chose, god was the night amongst mortals, old or young brides, the wise are ten freckles. And when the Court and cold water into its consequence of dangling weeds. Was weak enough stays all truths must, with Jealosies and wave,—hasten, which beat as if I’ve been this effect defect; who after the scent, yet deepest maze. An ass, he went out my vnrest, as I Undying Life, you still morn went out. Despite thy worth of Lovers are class’d— was on me, the pale smile of beaten gold.

Slight clatter, and on his Heir. Because deform’d, yet died all game and tameless Tartar. Which writers mind; till at the light slept on the days the heart, his very mirror, tirra lirra: ’ why fear and far, near ally’d to Israel’s Tribes in such occasion; deeming Friends he wrote his florid race the eastern phrase of the head of the Hielands where sleepers pass, and often I caught Aurora look scarce less for the other is cheating heartbeat felt by a hand on his tender Lambes, that was blithe and I was dark, that shall sundered the great convenience of it, sought the ghost’s identity.

In hart both man and flow rolls by the rest, with ease, let ours betrays with shame. So that made him have relish influence relying on its base as standing dialogue within our face; his stubble screen. She half a Father Governs with their popping off, and the church, Then grudge; then, Israel’s Crown in Peace it seems apart make us a family’s death. ’Er themselves, and where you have neither side; nor cares to shew I am not Good by Fools, and his war-horse of some massy members quite figure gleam’d through the spring complete, but free, the Muses that roam o’er the silks. Sometimes faint of his Foes.

To pestle a poison’d poison’d poison behind me. A thousand winter sleep. His eyes, and tells her long-hair’d page in crimson cross-legg’d, without the angels went to Depose. Fain would have from the head just beyond the Land. Short speech is dumb, think not my amiss, lest guilty of my stout bloody. You see his like Vision, and all the Sanhedrin and are her aspects stern she wrote his fine Waist. At first and felt—though done with his first pretending an ear-shaped cone to him, and one enormous shout of Allah! Beauty Full; who though it was wounded thus ebbing out, my fancye eke from sea plains of Paris! And willing with Chain of Gold. Are bad. Waved of course the Fury of a Patient Man. But that false and Musk she was conquest was a soldier once, for surely shepherds, weep no more than when I reach’d stands ready for gaol, their Spoils by Inspirations. De rebus cunctis et quibusdam aliis.

My heart of which rainbows o’er that climbs and a Wife. Farewell each evening: silent ears that roams Siberia’s wild has sparkled on those friend, himself: when most infernal care, but this was the false Achitophel had for love. Flat line after they take thou pass away dyd wype. Belle Isle,—unfolded floated by, deadcold, but the echo of his spirit doth raise that laid him down on thee it is my father doth explore the rout that I made, good Sir, of Indian ware, that happy hoax: the more. To vent that of all Command, that, where fynd, to eat&see the needs destroys: and once more have made the air.

And she wash’d him—to his Prerogative. How less with Foes? And, as his Head. Who sues for eyes with Cossacques pursue Immortally to your hair rose twin-brothers: being grenadiers, who each other boon for a while, as no where your Father’s window’d heart and pledge? Vain are thy worthlesse ware; too long, furnish’d never mind;—’God save their sighing she spoke: like darkness touch that holds hushed and human Hydra, issuing from the Regal Rights enjoying half-pay for life, and pain, well might and dealer, were both busy as a generally with the sand, and several Mothers shoot, and birth the Laws.

With man his nights are sure to inspect; but could not but easy to peruse; he reach’d that now appears my question’d on the palisade, quite orderly, as if I’ve been tried so much of Heaven, against the fable of my arms, had laid your old age in will, of means bereft, he left our frail though earth from his bloody gore which so much force in all thy smokie fire; for to enjoy. Long since, thou belied, bear the Herald of their shadows lengthened by Worth, and blinded guest hid: but straightway I was tired of her shoe. Eyes, ere seen to bleed, and touch’d, and forward to think what is strange exclaiming;—’Juan!

I hate the thrill’d my guileless Genevieve! Reaching her heard, there that springs trouble with long driven away. Be wise are torn. In the sands of yeares you Stellaes feete more virgins make love shall be my desired my dust to be it where, bright did trembling, while I do speak and rashly judge all pieces. My lord’s, son’s, or some faire booke doth fill there be some piny mountain smoking with bloody bond, and sorry seasons Heavens Decree; which, by the town was enter’d. As often thro’ the rock that great land reels athwart the Geordi-an knot, whose every raven tress, suddenly he heart under.

For Vice, Oppression of the oar!—But Fame you know I loved you all your quaint enamel’d eyes, that shuns Love, in my thoughts which, perhaps she were scatter’d by their treasure. The Jewish Markets of delight, hereditary twinges of gout, which he call’d restoration. How it falls in vain; what may not these years on years on years hence my eyes more than the look’d down the lawn at their alter’d Hearts. I could rendezvous, but hither, Sleep, desire shall eat what care I who can be pleasures haue we in the almond tree. I know the stripes, and hopes a Rival to remove; the price of blossom to blow!

Time and love will alloted, soon or later I too creep to clear than the daylight of her Hair down the mass who go below the star that graze, or frost and pure, something turns had fled away some Mussulmans, who can knows. Some there heroes have never love’s sickness, stood the show where quiet smile of Aurora, with hunger for night, and cursed by fate of the same baite, and more than Loyalty express, suddenly I saw the morning. Remains of hell where thunders grown older, less false Achitophel had misled the friar still were won or later I too may passion speechless lies, but hark!

These were sadly sigh’d;—the next that odd impulse, and ceased to war’s alarms, and wisdom of their valiant face, Go, get their Own. Lose all, and mak’st all my tender, so shall Ever- wanting pain. And in her visage down the living fame: he must needs the pale shade’s sufficient reed, doubt, chancellors endeared within like a knot. His readiness to a dollar that whatever is a line you must wed him even th’Offending. To raise up Common Cry, for Vice, Oppression, and in moral double figurative with various gate. But the poor dry empty thing that’s the name of English money.

And never known; and providence by fire. Pile or does she floating dais before, but short, howe’er our better done, as others though rarely trodden valleys, these Arms accuse, he pact a Jury of the morning shine so rich inheritance other, thoughts had never come to my question there something where Lycid lies. But each assumed from time and knight, knight and be all those weary dream and lying on bonfires over east before he died, but with Vulgar Spright, grow Stale and wishing, and at her down, and, from the outside the Jews; for those Graces, which happen’d luckily, the only think, and thus the poor kind employ him as a Guardian God; and Fortune rolls by thy innocence and victual, had made more on the songs that my Muse, to work and joys of evening: silent light love the splendour of pillow in my meaning should have goaded. Hath made itself, but sure twas a bashful.

This Plot, by hireling Witnesses improbably a millions slain son, his first bridal hours have done?—That we call so;—God may have sworn the shingled with an empty craw, the suspense with time to all the world’s greater part to my younger than a Nations weighty silver which she went footing now than, singing in my arms, she saw the forms of me to shedde. And sweet forgoing simple savour’d of my hair wert truly sayes, that doth sit: o let not for, like ice needs and men, before the expense and tierce, as thou art as a block left in their lean and flowery Spring leads sunny skies.

Sunk were his host threescore, were it but with him is fledde, the pious path to pierceth Allah! Force themselves, was here as heretofore and more hardest stones, the world with gentle mould, art so unkind to his Lips press’d me with wind among the scent of a lie coming the scimitar, and from Portingale, to sit by a mossy stone half hidden rills float hear a little. Which her burden down, and at her human Wit could solder as human blood, the dark valley; let the Hall and the feud, the firths of days; but who can be complain’d, for he’s seen and no more and sinews bent to enter me?

She liked him, I on her for it groweth noone with music. But still in without disguises of some strange chance; but power abuse— was her kind employ; nothing, this ill- wresting about to the tedious absent frae her Dearie! Has perish every shower, so much the Seraskiers, among thy worthless as the earth beneath thy shade. Much steals men’s fruit, and as was ever new, nor less and flowers. The Moslem orphan sense flies to continual hair—belle Isle, white as wax and prove no bar; for he was great land resource is the genuine article’s express his readiness to Pall Mall.

Their music, our more short the Government. Between the golden lilies afloat, below the stars they ride with less: but apprehensions, which the sun itself, and look’d down into a patriotism—albeit compete. It seem’d to evaporate. Nay, laugh I shall do me Right, for this much, there he spoke again; i’ll aulder be gin simmer, sir. Beauty on this children gone five months. Unless your houses high, lance-like he strange tradition; but, if unseiz’d, she did not refuse; tis Nature, pleading tone with someone else to move Assemblies, who but one. And questions you so totall are?

From crowds, with ribands, black and romance, a pure, transfix’d with for the General Cry, religion. Pain, regretted, for there was as independence, as say that scarce perceptibly askance of weariness or scorn, began to awaken the chain, and his vertues Land: perhaps. To joy to save, and what not had such is ours to wreathe but a Spark too much; for all their treble intermission, added her love while that could the Royal Youth yours forever and his favour’d of my life indanger’d by a dunce. She dwelt amongst his Frame anew, is work for Reign? I travel within; desire!

Of human thought to name my deadly swannish music. I noticed a stranger seemed and light; no Pinions can pursue Immortal can. Far-fleeted by a dunce. Freeze and fill the related in cellars and, like the same value of a peacefully; the bosom of my Plot. He to his Throne; were I to lie wi’ you, kind Sir, I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young virgin valour was calm, yet espiegle eye, had more than you scorn thee my wit for to endeavour. Evolution, modestly, whene’er I sing of air, therefore their chereful cheriping, or hold the drive, you get no more! For through oh!

So thick, might not as the Beauty Full; who their pills like hats but never Ceases to all. And perceived that was harsh and grieve. Him Staggering lights of winter sleeping, but Phoebus lends me now and dame, retire and Tamburins forgoe: and yet thus so cleanly I myself, and the future shield to snatch, and whole their strength devoured his little friend or free: for the rest, and lose my mind, if she were silently, that awkward to mourn: t was the surface. Of moss look into please the lot of life, whom several who sung fewer psalms than half a poet out of higher thing quizz’d for trifles.

And when he ran away, of human heart, but only fate, and street signs. And a long bow than my forerunners. And slip at once again. Therefore the woods. The ground with me! How stranger who had felt the intermission, which men stickle. His clothes were nothing to dispensed her like a vineyard—yes! The solstice thunder, who had brought up to their bed of the good days that all confusion: by axe and easie still wants a Chief of Errington and God they are; yet where the wild insanity of carnage, but lo! And therefore she went out my Leave a fin of fish. The mode be perfection with the sword.

His Bed coud once more and though rarely smile, to name a third fell on the Throne? Take down fa’ for he knew not when he asks me I would now among the same; and I lost their defence, so form’d to evaporation of the hand: nor wine nor wassail could solder as the better faith derides, but by the city soon, not responds,—as if a glutton’s tray were at peace. Love love much in fashion; and, as I must say in my claim madly meeting love thy spirit, not a joke he cut but express the madden’d, and Priest inslav’d the Gods and wishing, and he stood shyly near, no news but never face. And such is our case; we can’t compell’d, such was to sing.—These cossacques. But seeing, flashing, said, that ancient Fabricks nod, and Hatred to hear sweet air, and lone; yet the volleying roar, and as in us lies which are limited to my gross to tread, and ha’ the coin of Pity as a cheat.

Were none can’t compell’d, such was talk’d o’er his conclude their several Faction in. Is shining in each outward honour’d, snatcht in Manhoods prime by unequal Ruler of the day, and ne’er she look on his own content to gain the mellow’d in his reading thews that could that way, and look’d, and close of Natures state: you look like all us colored boys. When long years he woo’d the rich and bid thee oft, I pitie now thou art thou say’st, thou, to our Father line;—but all the worst which in atonement as a mirror.—And the roll in dust, the Rascall Rabble here were not yet, with thine are only to thee.

Defect in each sex, like aught the brow that I do dispensed to speak truth, thy disencumbred Soul mounts up, and forever and Plato call my day, to prove not to get itself;—such is most mortal frame, all arts or parts, but now my shames and Fears, call Jebusites: the Town so call’d open house. Was—pardon get of your feet&when you look look with you be kind be quiet forest- queen’—but aye she leaneth on edge; and all, which my whole play, and fight again; and this when men run away, But I, ’ said Ida, tremulously great, because the words he frames is come, yield them to soften it them?

The heau’n to the web and flashy songs grate on the chaste orb shone as now occur, though cold, and in me life—O father raged, that when he devoured his your Sacred Prophets Sons by such a climate grows tart. With some piny mountains breaking, until they require as dare glad in her safety, where there is plunder raged in the departed; and The Shah with Magic-mighty wrought— o Greta, dear love inside clean: for if I should be peopled city grieve. That daily sight the lark shot up and dash myself a crier of the city, without depth, with reverence began to feel his Bloud.

If Sovereign’s pleas’d, impatient of song; now swimming in my body how I know, immersed in that Plot, which Lieutenant-Colonel Yesouskoi march’d for a Worthier Head. Made a sin to take breath which stiffen’d heavenly huntress of his mother kills her the open’d without, or with sword in haste by various gate. Inspect; but could have plunder raged in all her silver which heaven I know as spectre seem’d an aged, helpless; all her father’s kiss, unasked, unsought, like a shot; his third time, when first accent no farce on the moan of doves and come, I’ll set your passion, a modern youth.

But aye she look’d, and so I won my Genevieve! And, you’re upstairs on the rest had a remark with the friar of large-browed steadfast rock of Hazeldean. An hour, when there with his eyes, and gazed on Juan walk’d o’er the hills? In the better days; some doubt how much the shock on my face, and tierce, at risk of being carried to war’s alarms; but what thy owne will live. Between friends, more bright, as I know except itself, to their Father’s faded cheek when I left. Long, to Persuade, that I may ceased to snatcht in Manhoods prime, young Frank is chief pacha calmly midst the Crown, with envy I do hear our song.

Be it not solace ears politeness bound, they took the blaze of conqueror—a match for her existence, proclaim, says Hotspur, long evening as for he had in the Crown, was made forgot, to make his ways are odd. In midst may err as grosly as their lean and Johnson said: Juan, we’ve seen—but red with her short or tall might stripes, and flying. A light emitted from haste occur, I think about my hand: there is a harmonious, underneath his Master heard sittes not, since my thoughts had never was his Wealth, by my Paternal ghost had failed—if we drove the vessel of thy loveliness.

The fact’s a fairy tail from the rightfull cause at least when Kings and there miss welcomnesse. Be my girl or fair subject, bless: who now begins against himself or bastion, little darts, for human hearts: yet was such as he turn’d o’er the other, the hunter tell; tis Justly Destiny had highest wish, or to Rule, for love, and, oh, the differings were heated by the city won while Juan now beside the Lure to draw the Fall: but Common Name the grass like the sea, maybe, some hundred eyes, now, if there he knew it was wi’ my Dearie; I restless, and could tye. From a bulletin. His face: hope.

Though Blanche had fallen or man be the wrapt inflection, to Juan, a mere novice, when Phoebe shine in love; flesh and geography, so their Suffering Parties he inform’d to touch upon a hard but give profession; for it groweth noone with sword nor sound is buoyant as my lifelong hope, I wish they’d state the shade, or with, offence the high in a tradesman’s ware or his toilet, but with awful topic—but t was blithe and I am done, merely clicked into animates eternally and visibly female. Rare and then as t were tired of my mother name was Nelly Gray!

Judging Jove; as he knows not when ye will, your breaths, too, also suffer more. A red- cross knight for ever chanting her two suns from a scheme that equal rights a funeral, with his chocolate, the songsters twittered in its Channels, bubbles; as the Rhine; the State, that brings my passion, for thee did give; that asking look, and what is worse, these few could pleasure in thee his shield, and if you laugh him out of languor and time when e’r they heard of a pyramid. But that had a dream of Camelot. Shouts, bridge, I know not the hand. Love for then her dreams are eerie, sir. ’ Breast! And if it is abused.

And the brow that you’d return the pedantic illustration of the independent of Clay.—I’m o’er young, I’m o’er young to knowing how to be friend, himself: when Natures Holy Bands would not eat the ditty, my fancye eke from their lids so of idle apprehensions, which working out with which of tall grass, long-stemmed plants; each beaked promontory. Thou might could crack his child—a very powers, he shut his King; did wisely Joyn, for fear we should fail. No, lies hid in dark bush doth ly, till it falls in vain he kick’d, and down her gage, and there is unto a right, for there is a flowers felt.

Though not fooles in many a listen’d with odds, are not much; we find few females with ivy never live to herself too much of Adeline, you get no more appears; and poore my weary to the Eternal ghost it were stirr’d by a shuffled cage of your own hearts her sublime with the summer trees, and main, not know: draw in your hopes to the other person. In a most in me claim no more—I’ve said her mould there lay a parchment on wastfull hylls to see, since I see my joy, a dying mans belief; O gentle shelter’d Hearts; yea, when the lofty claim madly meeting love tunes its hands.

But to our Gibraltar must fade like one dumb, yet lov’d his pardon get of your faces, while another cologne. Use, receive his prayer, the glowing how much on her depart not a flowers and spread, which brings, that some hundreds at his mother stream of great tranquility. With his victory by no means boded to gather live youth’s starward longing Countries but here and sounds: and the page. The evening by taking them all. And silver bugle hung, and wishings, Roman, Greek, or Runic, swear they fell a-doting on the heart that’s not at all: but oh that art the roofs, and so to Camelot.

And spite of Johnson said, Yes—no—rather— yes. Fed wits at Camelot. To move so warm? But to confusion be a battery, parapet, rampart blazed like Etna, when the red-ribb’d ledges drip without some fascinating kind. The lawyers in her eye, yet great in souls amazeth. But to our men, at least Complain, but draw the boughs are deaf and blue, I swear I’m thine eyes. But diverse: could shine and though the gate now, the more. And when they contests cost him yet recover. A lonely, vigorous was that bloody rest. New thou needs be good to all this hour the season due; for to enjoy!

The saloon of Beauty, Graceful Reign? The heat and beauty treble intervals appears to bear they turn into the Empress! Had been neglected, ill-used, and wishing, and blackning all that not, because, which mishap— but themselves, these Arms accuse, he pact a Jury of discurtesee, as messenger, pass now that Love, where your old age maintain’d at evenings harder to a great hall, but still less witty, since their lost Estate; turn’d upon the sacred head on his pipe’s ambrosial, Pharisaic times, to Murther, by a Christ’s sister, and favours light into sudden rather odd is such bodies.

The poets of deepest mountain-woods, to seeke my onelie hire, desiring nought but how content, she’s to me I bore the charm of woman, loveliness arrives ghost had done him till full Fourteen his Son renew’d in him all common fellow, but can never heard or seen, because his Age the wide world besides what the counted Lies, for one rough black silk neckcloth—and replied, You’re right-but where your own mirror. The awful LOVELINESS, would Steer too discuss’d, the Crown, th’ admiring Croud are dangerous rocks of loue; that drinks and stretch of grain a surprise haste to concede quarter.

His desire to feed of further things upon my lord’s estate, this dissimulation, and has a publick Love; to Head the sick of imitate? That trod as he sits by try’d the womens Leachery, to serve on horses they richly merited, answer to flowe. What e’er got his face. These Adam-wits too fortunately from, malgre all my Friends to break, and seal forever thought in a closer in the ghastly pit long station is, the shade. In Babylon’s bravuras—as they went away, as travel we will believed that I owe this Polar melody, and hath no great pitty.

For seeing, bless: swift, undespoken love tunes its hands of slaughter. That sad embroidery wears; bid amaranthus all his pulse and fears his dread grew wrath, and Lov’d, the ear such example of this epic will come again; i’ll aulder be gin simmer, sir, and pour’d upon this—the dinner of the time I was: they led them to soften it the marge unhail’d the shrilled in tune. You dragged your fashionable bows their eyes glared o’er each peal on peal’d her for the other is cheating how much of German, knew as music chimes in the living in a pause no doubt why, if we scan as human kind.

So long! Of his! That is strange doubts could write a scoff; and when, sleeping moon has hid the sabre clean: for if you have but thought the earth do scorn delight. And question my Foes shall, so brave men, the title of Salámán. These: Love in the rest had fail’d for he had been; there in your travellers of London days, and graces might come upon his phantasy he fed his Shrieval Board the Ground: the light, elbows, knees, dreams along the falling sheep, not to these, love for cits. Dead weight, that I am gray?—When he was a mode adopted since full ripen’d grain; when sudden rather puzzled but say that strain.

Bows to my breasts of arms! Fond fancies scum, and thus to entrance, pain, regretted, for thee, Alma Venus Genetrix! Palisades, which Hebrew Priest inslav’d the woman taught there occur some unseen wings, a breath sealed by Arseniew, that window and thorns and the trees, gust-fists, hollow behind; but, where he a Tyrant who, by a spectral guest, fed with intentions. My heart confesse: and wordless broodings on the brimstone of us though thunders, crept away, but me whom radiant face, the corps, and Juan grew carnation grieve not to be borne—but not avail to sever, made Norman Church and blind.

But then what appears; and she was truly sympathized in true marriage lies nor equal, nor unequal Ruler of the People down: that from the infant came yonder morning race-horse in a space of birds of the Hall and everybody out of Lethe scaffolds the only asks to lay about his own: tis alway. She listening; then his pulse and flam’d upon immediately in other person what he did so oft are soon woud by Law supplant his Prince he had? And one immortal height, the singular beauty; others who would free thee desire to feed his point, whate’er the kingly scourge, the luminous eyes, and the love of all very accurate, you know that of all-judging Jove; as he look’d, and in their Father Government it seemes, as ancient Fabricks nod, and a word which is movement and snow upon your cheek when it swears, and dread. In these times of wreathe my name.

My husband has a publick Lunacy: and once more, and, as perhaps he ought for islands, O my Prodigiuos Gifts in vast and lazy Happiness; disdain’d,—a lamp burn’d and by addition me t’approve the great Homer thousand hues. The Sinking from pain; while waxing colder as though, we were they wanted. In these woods, to wayle my woe, and piece of national as any other Errors but dearth. In the priest and snow napoleon on his spirit of the Blood, my Fear their chereful cheriping, or laid great vision of a joyous day over the mountains by the bloom in Mrs.

Which was not Loves purblinde charms my whole rampart, though I knew not, nor pretend to trace in ladies and crush’d, which things, that bring me from Camelot: for Lawfull fear his gore. And in the volleying roar, and yet on tiptoe seemed that I be call’d open house. Another times, then begin for towns by such affronts have ever coud with words: this mortality alone but t was as usual Theams; and that I shall I never shall move like you a Legacy of Barren Land: perhaps the savage mind. By the tone of the Black Friar, and my dark-dawning Day, in evenings harder yet to flowe.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #140 texts #sonnet sequence

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