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sinsandsuccubus · 1 year

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#Married - Meet the Harlow’s

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Liked by lizzo, softcurse, heavyhitterheaux, mortirolo, claybornharlow and 1,400,656 others

y/ninstagramname: He gave me the best view

jackharlow: anything for you mamas

lizzo: I want a Jack Harlow, he got a brother or something?

y/ninstagramname: A younger one @ lizzo

claybornharlow: Hey @ lizzo

jackharlow: @ claybornharlow @ lizzo, not in my comment section

y/ninstagramname: this is my comment section @ jackharlow

jackharlow: well, you're mine so @ y/ninstagramname

urbanwyatt: y’all disgust me

Liked by urbanwyatt and others

jackharlow: She's my best view

urbanwyatt: Y'all are so whipped for each other, its disgusting

druski: if Jack ever does you dirty, you know where to find me.

jackharlow: @ druski, I think the fuck not

lilnasx: @ druski, you could never. if anything, i'd get y/n first

druski: @ lilnasx, you're gay

lilnasx: @ druski, thats the point

y/ninstagramname: love you pooki

jackharlow: @ y/ninstagramname, love you more stinkabutt

druski: @ y/ninstagramname @ jackharlow, eww

Liked by softcurse, theshaderoom, heavyhitterheaux, mortirolo, jackharlow and 3,580,467 others

y/ninstagramname: He liked it, so he put a ring on it

jackharlow: damn right I did

heavyhitterheaux: PERIOD! I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU BIG SIS!

y/ninstagramname: Thank you my precious @ heavyhitterheaux

softcurse: I'd better be a bridesmaid

mortirolo: me too

y/ninstagramname: y'all already know @ softcurse @ mortirolo

Liked by jackharlowstitties and others

theshaderoom: It's official! Jack Harlow and Y/F/N Y/L/N are engaged! @ jackharlow @ y/ninstagramname

y/nsource: we can't have shit in this house, can we?!

jackharlowsource: @ y/nsource, I can agree with you on that. I swear, these motherfuckers be everywhere

jacksleftnipple: y'all gotta be legit spies or something. They got engaged last night, where the fuck did this photo come from?

allabouty/n: I'm appalled. The ring ain’t even the same

y/ninstagramname: our source accounts are so amazing

Liked by dojacat, urbanwyatt, theestallion, 2forwoyne, jackharlow and 4,996,222 others

y/ninstagramname: To my love, together and forever.

2forwoyne: CONGRATULATIONS TO MY PARENTS!

urbanwyatt: It took Jack foreverrrr

jackharlow: It did not @ urbanwyatt

urbanwyatt: 2 years @ jackharlow

jackharlow: your point? @ urbanwyatt

urbanwyatt: that's not including dating. That's just how long it took you. @ jackharlow

claybornharlow: welcome to the family sis

y/ninstagramname: thank you lil bro @ claybornharlow

neelamthadhani: congratulations to you both, now it's time for you to get back to work @ jackharlow

jackharlow: um, no @ neelamthadhani

Liked by y/ninstagramname and others jackharlow: No one else I'd rather spend the rest of my life with

lilnasx: looks like our fun times have come to an end

champagnepapi: congratulations my man, bagged a good one

urbanwyatt: proud of you brother

y/ninstagramname: love you baby @ jackharlow

maggieharlow: look at my beautiful children!

y/ninstagramname: love you momma harlow @ maggieharlow

maggieharlow: love you more @ y/ninstagramname, now, next thing on the list is grandbabies

jackharlow: too soon mom, too soon @ maggieharlow

y/ninstagramname: uHH

druski: @ y/ninstagramname, what I said about hittin me up still applies

jackharlow: stop tryna steal my wife @ druski

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you #jack harlow fan fic #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow fan fiction #meet the harlows

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hellbecomingroundthemountain · 3 years

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Help me understand, Texas…

Now I’m one of those decades old white guys… but I won’t profess to know what a woman must go through in her heart and mind when it comes to motherhood and abortion, but I do have some thoughts to express about the subject. I mean, I really don't get it, why these old peckerhead white men and starched up righteous bible licking women think they know what's right for women, for mothers, for the potential mothers of the world. Where's the sense in taking away the choice, the right to make a personal decision that affects their own body, their own needs, their own future, and how that might affect the future of a child.

From out of what hole of hell did these people crawl that gave them the keys to people’s ethics and morals? There is no way that men who bargain for cheap votes on a stump or women who garner and spend merits based on their perverted views of righteous morality possibly know what's in the mind of a woman considering or facing a motherhood that was either uninvited, ill conceived, or mistakenly partaken. Do not consider the truth from people who no longer value the poor, the sick, the homeless, or the immigrant.

Don't get me wrong here my friends, no one is devaluing life. Any life is precious, but until a fetus is viable, you cannot accuse someone of taking a life if it is, or has to be aborted. There is room for debate and compromise about viability and potential risks for infant and mother mortality, but any punishment related to a women's choice regarding motherhood is cruel and unwarranted. It’s hard enough, the mental and spiritual anguish of the decision itself to carry a child, without pointing the sword of shame and guilt at their heart.

Ok Texans, or any other citizens of the US, you actually want to turn your fellow citizens into vigilantes, bounty hunters, and spies, and allow this system of blackmail and state sponsored constitutional deprecation to continue? You know it won’t stop with abortion. or birth control, gay marriage, or what you can read, or know as your history, or what is to believed scientifically.

What is blowing in the wind…?

#abortion #texas #pro choice #hellbecomingwriting

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

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hey! i hope you’re having an amazing day. this is just me popping in your inbox to say that’s youre one of my favourite writers and you got me really interested in winteriron (honestly one of the cutest ships) are there any fics/authors ii could reccomend?

Hi there! Thank you so much! I love this ship so much, they’ve got such potential for both fluff and angst. They really are one of my favorite ships to write and I’m glad I was able to write so much for them this year. I certainly do have plenty of recs for you, starting with my favorite authors:

@riotwritesthings: started writing last year, I highly recommend just about everything Riot writes but especially Road Hazards, Melt into Me (Your Words are My Own), and When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it)

@hddnone: so many stories and all so good! Has nearly 100 Winteriron works on ao3 and you will not regret reading any of them, though fair warning that some of them are Team Cap Critical. Especially recommend Honey Pot, You’ve Got Mail, and A Bit(e) of Danger

@monobuu: mostly an artist but sometimes writes stories as well. i recommend Ravioli, Invincible Summer, and Meet the Fam

@tisfan and @27dragons: can’t make a Winteriron rec list without including the both of them. They work together a lot but you should definitely take a look at their own stuff as well. I recommend Safe and (the) Sound, Kiss Me Thru the Phone, and Stark, Naked

@ad1thi: currently taking a bit of a hiatus and working on non-Marvel works but I love everything Adi writes, particularly her entire Bollywood but Make it Gay series, which isn’t always Winteriron but wonderful nonetheless. I recommend the Greek Gods AU, 1000 Lives (For You), and we’re connected

@the-winter-writer: lots of smut and all absolutely fantastic! I like Precious Treasure, Winter Wings, and Instinct

@rayshippouuchiha: definitely an iconic writer for this fandom. Really great if you’re looking for genderbends. Writes a lot of absolutely incredible fics and not just for Winteriron but my personal favorites are The (Not So) Great Pretender, Fearful Symmetry, and The Mistletoe Kiss Polka

Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar): once again very iconic. you’ve probably read at least one of their works even if didn’t know. I recommend Shameless, Today’s Forecast, and Practice Makes Perfect

@lovelyirony: mostly writes ficlets here on tumblr and a multishipper (I don’t know why I’m saying that like it’s a bad thing, I’m a multishipper), also a fan of Sharon Carter and that’s the thing that made me follow her so you know

@amethystinawrites: I only recently started working their works but I’m loving everything I’ve come across so far. I recommend Tech Support and I Won’t Hold My Breath

AvocadoLove: also writes a lot of Stony and Stuckony, which I love a lot, but for their Winteriron works, I recommend Amalgam and Dead Man’s Switch

Dracusfyre: another one I’m new to. I literally just started reading their works today so I don’t have any recs for them yet but one of my friends loves them so I’m going to go with you should definitely take a look at their works

Eirlyssa: has some anti-Team Cap works so keep an eye out for that if that’s not your thing but writes very good Winteriron. I recommend Guide Me Home (Guide My Heart) and Always (I’ll Be There)

@imposter-human: one of the first MCU blogs I ever followed! I recommend childhood memories, speak my language, and lost in translation

As for specific works I like:

Four Strings and Second Chances by Vashoth

It was reluctance to let one of his finest inventions ever out of his grasp that made him take a couple days over a week to send the arm to Pepper’s office. But all things considered, Tony figured that sending finest prosthetic that had ever come into existence--literally grasping an olive branch--was one of the classiest gifts he’d ever given. He’d included a note and everything. ‘Barnes,

Can help with installation. Or not. Up to you. --Stark'

Who is the Mechanic? by @akira-of-the-twilight

The Asset watched as his handlers brought in a stranger—a man with a metal object stuck to his chest that was hooked to a car battery.

The handlers shoved the man onto the stool where many who had operated on the Asset’s arm in the past had sat before.

“Asset,” one handler said, “meet the Mechanic. He will be responsible for the upkeep of your arm. Should anything malfunction, kill him.”

The Asset eyed the Mechanic. The Mechanic was glassy-eyed and unresponsive.

He’d probably be dead in a week.

The Fix by SleepsWithCoyotes

Right, because Tony...Tony fixes things. He remembers thinking that, not for the first time.

Paths are Made by Walking by @potrix-the-queerschlaeger

The road to recovery is long, winding and a different one for every person walking it. Bucky chooses to help himself the only way he knows how; by doing what he does best.

Or, alternatively; the one in which Tony is a mess and accidentally kick-starts Bucky’s protective mother hen instincts.

The Evidence by StrivingArtist

Didn’t notice. Right. Sure. Two brilliant minds, two super spies, and a god didn’t notice when the chattiest man they knew stopped making sound. They just seemed happier than before. Brighter and more cheerful than before. They just seemed like they were more comfortable with him around when he was stone silent.

Fuck it.

He knew they noticed.

And he knew they liked him better this way.

Shadowed Hearts and Winter Souls by NotEvenCloseToStraight

The mid-1800s and Antonio Carbonell Stark is caught in a scandal with his lover. Desperate for a chance to escape the trouble and his own broken heart, Tony accepts a proposal from a mysterious Russian heiress and flees the country.

Natalia Romanova is in trouble of her own and has enough secrets to make Tony's head spin but somehow they settle into a fake marriage and calm day-to-day together, and everything works... until her half brother comes home and their life is disrupted again.

James is somber and silent, brutal and nearly broken and scarred, a soldier of the resistance. His heart is cold and gaze like ice, but his hands are hot and lips are warm and Tony finds himself ignoring the blood on James's palms and the shadows in his soldier’s eyes, and falling in love.

When danger lands at their doorstep, Natalia and Tony have to pack up and leave, running away in the middle of the night and leaving their men behind.

The distance between Tony and James gets longer every day, and Natalia has been keeping a secret for that can’t be hidden much longer. With no place to call home and a thousand miles between them and the men they love, what are Tony and Natalia supposed to do?

Puppy Love by Reioka

Bucky is learning to become a person again. When some guy starts crying all over Natasha's dog, he decides he's doing better than he originally thought.

Describe Your Perfect Date by ali_aliska

After getting turned down by Bucky, Tony decides it’s time to move on from his massive crush. He tries online dating—Pepper’s idea, not his—but the only thing worse than getting rejected is getting rejected and finding out your soulmate-level match is Clint Barton, all in the same day.

Clint, of course, does not let opportunities like this go to waste, but he’s driving Tony nuts for a good cause, he swears.

Bucky’s just trying to do the right thing and fails spectacularly, but it all works out in the end.

Rocket Science by marsmaywonder and orbingarrow

Sleep-deprived and under-caffeinated, grad student Tony falls asleep in a conveniently empty classroom and wakes up in the middle of Bruce’s Physics 101 course. After seeing a groggy Tony fumble a simple question, actual-student Bucky offers to tutor him. In a moment of “oh no; he’s cute” panic, Tony takes him up on it. Now, in addition to his already complicated life, Tony has to figure out the answer to the incredibly messy question: “How do you look like you’re failing the class, when you literally wrote the book?”

What’s Good for the Goose by Taste_is_Sweet

For this nonny prompt at the Imagine Tony and Bucky comm on Tumblr:

"A soulmate AU where an immortal goose shows up one day to lead you to your soulmate, the challenge is surviving the goose." (Full prompt in notes.)

We all have soulmates, and every soulmate pair shares an animal guide. The Guide is there to lead you to your One True Love, and they represent the aspects of the psyche that you both share. They appear when you're about to meet your soulmate, and often materialize in moments of great personal crisis, offering hope and support. There are stories upon stories about how someone's Guide appeared to lead them to their One True, or how the barest glimpse of their Guide eased their hearts and gave them hope in the midst of despair. The newly-rescued almost always attribute their Guide with giving them the strength and courage to hang on.

Animal Guides are ephemeral, ethereal, and elusive. They are, most often, no more than a warm presence or flicker out of the corner of one's eye. They are incarnate symbols of perseverance, optimism and hope. Foretellers of happiness, and the grand destiny of love.

Except for geese. Geese are assholes.

and so, we unfold by TheKitteh

Senbazuru. Thousand Cranes.

An ancient Japanese legend that promises anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some stories believe you are granted happiness and eternal good luck, instead of just one wish, such as long life or recovery from illness or injury.

Bucky’s not big on believing in any legends, not after all that has happened. He just wants to create something for a change, not destroy.

He needs to prove himself that he can be trusted to handle something delicate. He doesn’t need a promise of a wish come true. He just,- needs to do this for himself.

He doesn’t need noticing how sad, tired Stark looks. Doesn’t need to want to do something for the man, when he can barely do anything for himself. --- Tony simply goes through days and motions. He deals with the Avengers, with R&;D, with the rewritten Accords. All of it, it’s nothing new really. He just wants to get things done.

What’s new is seeing Barnes hunched over the coffee table, one step away from ripping a glossy magazine apart in the middle of the night.

And why the hell Barnes keeps looking at him during the days after like he’s a puzzle to be solved?

Welcome to the Winteriron fandom! We’ve got a lot of incredible authors and artists both and this is just the tip of the iceberg!

#alle answers #winteriron #fic recs #have a great day as well!#hold-our-destiny

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ivory-in-rapture · 4 years

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Dealing with the restlessness and depression arising from staying in quarantine for more than 10 days:

So I have been watching a lot of Youtube. I would read more but I kind of got into a slump and have to read a lot of boring books for Uni as well so the reading has slowed down but I’ll get there. Here are some suggestions for content that will cheer you up:

Youtube channels to watch:

I rewatch things with a high quantity of comedy and wholesome content. They both distract from the anxiety-inducing news and also just cheer you up. My favorite things to watch are mostly old stuff that I have watched to deal with anxiety before. Things that have been my safe place and I associate good memories with. Here’s a list for those who might be interested:

Starkid: If you don’t know, this is a yt based theater company and they are so generous and kind and they upload whole freaking performances to yt so broke bitches like me can watch from across the globe! I basically love all of their stuff but they have different genres and you can find your fit.

Danandphilgames: Ever since BA, I watched DanandPhil’s videos before exams when I get too anxious. They are funny and sweet and it’s a great distraction. I HIGHLY recommend the sims series. It’s like a freaking drama series with some really chaotic creators! They haven’t released anything new but the old stuff are still so precious.

TheMischiefmanagers: This is a channel dedicated entirely to the Harry Potter universe and I LIVE FOR IT! It’s so good. They have a marauders series and a golden trio+Draco series and they also do sketches and parodies and the whole thing screams cozy and nostalgia and hygge!

BonAppetit: Gourment makes and It’s Alive! That’s it! That’s my whole pitch!

The Try Guys: 4 guys being adorably chaotic and dismantling toxic masculinity one joke at a time! The whole thing is that the more you watch, you start to develop emotional attachments to them so things get funnier and more endearing.

Tin Can Bros: This is very similar to Starkid and ShipWrecked. They have two very good musicals. I recommend “Spies are Forever”. Everyone should have the pleasure to watch that once in their life!

ShipWrecked: Arguably one of the best channels on Yt (I said what I said!) Their ‘Edgar Allen Poe murder mystery Party’ is one the best miniseries in existence especially for bookworms and fans of the classics. So many literature puns...so many...(My favorite character is George Eliot!)

The Lizzy Bennet Diaries: An oldie but a goodie! Who wouldn’t want a modern retelling of Pride and Prejudice? WHO???? (I have more modern retellings recs if anyone is interested btw! Let me know)

Safiya Nygaard: So Safiya’s videos are so good? I resisted watching her videos for a long time but when I did, I became obsessed.

Read Fanfiction:

If you don’t have work or you’ve still got some time on your hand and trust me when the quarantine gets to the second week, you will get restless and everything will suck, so rereading some favorite fanfics can cheer you up. What’s the point of fanfic if not to be reread at hard times?!

I have fanfic recs but I feel like that defeats the purpose! You should just go reread your faves!

Read a good book:

Reading is obviously a great option and it passes the time and this is the perfect time to catch up on your tbr. Audiobooks are a good option right now. There are some free audiobooks available on both yt and Spotify. You can also use the openlibrary to burrow ebooks. Some reading recommendations:

Jane Austen: All of her books. Just any of them. This is a good time to read them. They are funny and romantic and dramatic and historical so basically, perfection.

Little Women: Has anyone else decided to reread the book after watching the new movie? Now’s a good time, I mean [SPOILER] does [SPOILER] but COME ON! That was a spoiler 150 years ago!

Harry Potter series: I’m rereading Harry Potter. It’s nostalgic. I listened to the audiobook today while baking. It was really nice.

Uprooted by Naomi Novik: great book; has a dragon and magical trees and a badass protagonist.

I have a list of new releases if you need more recs.

Carry on by Rainbow Rowell: Gay wizards. What else do you want?

Read some sjm books: because hate-reading is a thing you can do when you buy all the books like an idiot, even if you already know you hate them...

Write that book you always say you want to write but capitalism won’t let you!

Yup. Do that!

Well, there’s my list. I’ll make more later, maybe? I don’t know, depends on if I get notes on this!

#quarantine times #how to not bite the walls from loneliness #sorry if this has mistakes #It's really late

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elalmadelmar · 4 years

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For the One Piece Ask Meme: 😍💀🏰🔍™️

😍 - OTP?

I don't really do OTPs much- I'm an unabashed polyshipper, and there are so many good potential pairings in this series that I hate to try and set one above all others.

That said, Zoro/Sanji is a big fave, as are Nami/Vivi and Nami/Robin. I also have strong squishy feelings about Sanji/Viola and Sanji/Robin.

💀 - NOTP?

Very few of these, but one of the ones that tends to make me back off hard is Luffy/Nami. I just really intensely can't see it at all, and not only cause Nami is blatantly gay.

🏰 - Fave Marine?

HNNGH THIS IS HARD. Koby is a precious baby, but I also find Smoker intensely intriguing. Also I deeply wanna see where Oda is going with X Drake. I love spies.

🔍 - What do you think the One Piece is?

Man, I do NOT KNOW. Oda has said it's a physical treasure, not like a "the friends we made along the way" kind of thing. Possibly another ancient weapon. Or maybe it's something to do with Sea Kings.

™️ - How has One Piece changed you?

Well, I fell into a major gender identity crisis right about when I started watching it, and figured out I'm trans while writing my big epic fanfic for it. But I think that's probably a coincidence! But it did get me writing fanfic again after a 10-year hiatus (nearly to the day!) and I have met some awesome people through this fandom.

#opspoilers #i guess?#not sure if Drake still counts

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alittlesliceofcucumber · 5 years

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Yo could you do a Spies Are Forever fic with Curt/Owen pre canon like when they were just gay spies in love, maybe with some hurt/comfort thrown in?

Requests are open!

This was so fun to write! I love their relationship so I hope you like it too!Universe: Spies Are ForeverCharacters: Curt, OwenWords: 1353Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied RomanceTrigger Warnings: Brief mention of blood

Requested by anon

Missing You

A nervous Agent Carvour silently unlocked the door to the familiar apartment. Luckily for him, it was empty.

He immediately crept inside and began to look through the owner’s possessions for anything suspicious. There were various suits and tuxedos lying around, as well as an empty bottle of champagne. To Agent Carvour, that was promising.

But he knew that the most valuable items would be stored in the refrigerator. He snuck into the kitchen, sighed at the mess on the counter, and opened the fridge.

His heart sank.

It barely contained anything, let alone what he was searching for. There was a large selection of cheeses and a worrying amount of chocolate. He thought it would be better for everyone if he took some, for spying purposes only.

Sitting down on the couch, he held his head in his hands with an air of defeat. His mission had been a failure. He needed to change that.

He checked in his pockets briefly, only to find a few loose pound coins. Damn. He should have come prepared for America.

Of course, there could always be some money lying around the apartment. So he decided to search. He started with the wardrobe, from which an odd aroma was being emitted. With no luck, he decided to look through the drawers that were unlocked.

Suddenly, an idea flashed into his mind. He rushed into the bedroom, now beginning to feel the pressure of time, and opened a particular drawer on the bedside table. He groaned when there wasn’t even a dollar in sight, but there was something else that caught his eye.

A small leather book. But not just any old book. He could sense a diary from a mile away.

Having given up on the search for money, he succumbed to his curiosity and slowly knelt down in order to rest the diary on the bedside table as he opened it carefully.

The first entry was dated back in last August, and didn’t consist of anything exciting. Just various missions and complaints about Cynthia Houston. However, as he skimmed through the pages closer to the current date, a certain name stood out. He decided to read them in further detail.

17-06-1955A boring day. My leg is almost fully healed and I should be back in the field in a few days. I miss Owen.

18-06-1955Got a new mission today. An easy one. Record all movements of a certain suspect. I was about to write their name but I can almost hear Owen scolding me for being so careless.

19-06-1955Rookie was ill today so I asked Cynthia to look after him while I was busy. I don’t think she’ll ever talk to me again. If Owen was here, then he’d do it in a heartbeat.

20-06-1955The suspect has been ruled out, turns out he was just keeping a dog secret from his wife. It was stupid, but it gives me more time to look after Rookie.

21-06-1955Turns out Rookie had caught a bug that was going round. I took him to the vet and she said to take him on walks more regularly and make sure he’s eating healthy. I hope Owen’s eating healthy, he looked so skinny last time I saw him.

22-06-1955I think Rookie misses Owen too. He dug out one of the old jackets he gave me and cuddled it all night. The jacket has now been torn to shreds, which is a shame because I loved that jacket. Sorry Owen.

23-06-1955I asked Cynthia if she’d give me a day off tomorrow. It took a bit of fighting, but I got my way. I also asked her if she had any news about Owen. He’s still MIA. I hope he’s just undercover and that he’s okay. I’ll check again with Cynthia tomorrow. Just hearing that he’s alive would be the best birthday present I could ever wish for.

The entries ended there, and Agent Carvour felt something prickle in his eyes. He blinked away the tears immediately, not wanting to show his weakness.

He had become invested in these little notes, so he decided to read them all properly from the start. It would take a while, but it would be worth it. He could discover some very valuable information.

Curt Mega sighed as he reached the metal stairs that led up the side of the building to reach his apartment. The walk had been longer than he’d planned, which resulted in him being very tired with an over-excited Border Collie.

Suddenly, his dog started to bark hysterically and began to wag its tail like mad. It pulled against its lead, forcing Curt to let go, and sprinted up the steps.

“Rookie!” Called Curt, following the dog, “Calm down!”

Once he reached the top of the stairs, he gripped his side and breathed heavily for a few seconds, before walking through the open door of his apartment. He reached for his gun.

“Rookie? What’s wrong b-”

Curt froze. Rookie was gleefully rushing around a figure who was knelt next to his bed, holding his journal. His. Personal. Journal.

But then he noticed the tall, lean build of the figure, and the familiar dark hair slicked back in such a way that made Curt’s heart beat faster.

“Owen..?”

Agent Carvour turned his head to see Curt standing there with disbelief shining in his eyes.

“Curt…”

Hearing his voice was all the confirmation that Curt needed. He ran into Owen’s arms.

“I missed you so much. I thought you were dead.” He began to sob into the taller man’s shoulder. “I thought you had died. Cynthia told me today that you were presumed dead.”

Owen laughed softly as he gently rubbed Curt’s back. “I only just managed to get out of Russia. I’m supposed to report back in London, but I couldn’t miss your birthday, could I?”

Curt smirked and pulled away in order to view Owen’s pale yet beaming face.

“By the way,” Owen continued, “I’m outraged that you didn’t buy yourself a cake, Agent Mega.”

Curt laughed at the use of his nickname and lightly hit Owen on the arm. “Hey, I wasn’t going to celebrate your death, was I Agent Carvour?”

Owen shrugged. “Still. You deserve cake.”

It then occurred to Curt that his partner was still clutching his journal. He pointed to it hesitantly. “Did you uh, read that?”

Owen nodded and drew him in for another hug. Rookie danced around their feet. “Yes.” He whispered into his ear eventually.

Curt squeezed him harder. Owen winced.

Curt immediately pulled back, his arms still holding Owen’s shoulders, and looked at his partner anxiously. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing.” Owen replied.

Shaking his head disapprovingly, Curt glared at Owen. “No, something is wrong.”

He let go of the other man’s shoulders and firmly stated: “Take off your shirt.”

If Owen’s eyebrows could have risen any higher, they would have touched the ceiling. He smirked coyly. “There’s a time and a place, Curt.”

“No, I’m serious.” Curt frowned. “Take it off.”

Owen sighed but relented. He removed his jacket (which Rookie instantly got a hold of and ran off happily with his new prize) and unbuttoned his shirt. Once that was off, he couldn’t meet Curt’s piercing gaze.

Curt circled the man, and sucked in a breath when he saw the injury. A long, bloody gash stretching all the way down Owen’s back. He felt the tears coming again.

“Who did this.” He said quietly. With only Owen’s hung head as a response, he repeated: “Who did this?! I swear I’m gonna kill ‘em!”

Owen chuckled drily. “I already did.”

The pair stood there for a few minutes in silence, neither wanting to ruin the precious moment. Until eventually, Owen yawned. “I’m sorry old boy, but I’m rather exhausted and I don’t seem to have a place to stay.”

Despite the situation, Curt grinned. “Say no more.”

Taking hold of Owen’s hand, he led him towards the bedroom. Whatever they had to face, they would face it tomorrow.

He smiled to himself. Birthday wishes do come true.

#spies are forever #curt mega #owen carvour #saf #tin can brothers #starkid requests #starkid #joey richter

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elizaviento · 5 years

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Manipulation (part 13)

Note: Uhh. So yeah -- sorry it’s taken me 1 billion years to post this update. Lazy bitch syndrome is real and it hit me pretty hard. At any rate, I hope this makes up for it. :)

NSFW -- 2950 words

(FYI: This story is a sequel/companion piece to Assimilation, which can be found in the Rick Fic Masterpost link in my blog’s description along with additional chapters of Manipulation. Or, you can click the #manipulation tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)

*****

When I awoke just a few hours later – as if my mind could ever quiet down enough to grant me more than that – she remained fast asleep. At some point, she’d turned in my arms and was now lying flat on her back with her hair draped over her face. Several strands had fallen into her gaping mouth and were completely saturated with her saliva. Suppressing a laugh, I gently picked them from her mouth before dropping the moist stands on the pillow.

“Fuckin’ gross,” I grumbled before hauling my aching bones from the cot. Getting dressed was the usual task, along with fishing my flask from my lab coat breast pocket for my morning dose of pick-me-the-fuck-up.

I didn’t have any concrete plans for the day. Morty was at school and I briefly considered yanking him from Math class. All of my current projects were not interesting in the least at the moment. My mind was so preoccupied with the woman sleeping in my bed that even going on an adventure seemed terribly bland in comparison to the intense desire to portal back into my room – because walking would take way too much precious time – and fuck her brains out. But, considering how absolutely haggard she’d looked earlier that morning, I gathered up enough willpower to leave her be.

----------

Several hours later, I was shifting through the boxes on my metal shelves in the garage, tossing things to the side that I had been procrastinating throwing out, I caught movement from the corner of my eye.

She was casually strolling toward the open garage door with a sway in her hips that I hadn’t witnessed firsthand since before I’d left all those years ago and my eyes glued to her figure like flies on shit. The grin gracing her lips was playful and sexy as hell and I caught her wink as her styled hair bounced with each step, in time with her breasts. Hitching a breath, I prepared to quip a clever turn of phrase in an attempt to hear that delightful giggle of hers but before I could, her cell phone issued a shrill chirp from her small handbag, drawing her attention to the hand held device. Then, giving a quick and curt wave, she turned on those ridiculously high heeled shoes and pranced her way to the lime green hatchback parked on the street.

Wait a second, I thought as her car zipped through the residential streets. Where the fuck is she going? She looked absolutely stunning and there was no way she was going somewhere dressed like that… alone.

----------

I’d hopped in my ship and followed her by air as she weaved through the streets, making her way toward one of the many places that humans congregate in throngs. Then, she finally parked her car in the nearly full lot of a restaurant that probably housed its fair share of douche bags. Narrowing my eyes, I glared holes through the windshield of the ship as they remained trained on her form. She was obviously meeting someone and, even though I knew I shouldn’t give any shits, I actually gave many, many shits. And, as much as I wanted to immediately chase her down, I opted to sulk in silence for a half an hour or so before making my way inside.

I spotted her nearly instantly, tucked away in the corner of the restaurant with some goober looking mother fucker and I felt my blood pressure rise to a degree that was actually concerning. And, she was smiling – she was fucking laughing. What the actual fuck?

My mind was screaming at me to leave; just turn around and abandon this fiasco waiting to happen. But, let’s face it, when have I ever listened to logic where there was a full bar within spitting distance? So, I sat down and ordered the biggest, strongest, cheapest drink. And, she continued smiling – she continued laughing. I felt my fingers twitch as my hand seemed to move of its own volition; sliding across the slick top of the glass covered bar, toward my lab coat to fish though the inner pockets until it located the flat, rectangular device that I knew would be my ruin. Without restraint, my fingers flew over the touch screen –

Me: So how’s your boyfriend?

Me: He looks like a doofus.

Me: He can’t be THAT funny.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied her distracted expression as her phone drew her attention away from the moron blabbing across the table from her. She did, however, sweep her eyes across the expanse of the restaurant, until I felt them settle on me.

Me: He thinks he’s getting his dick sucked.

Me: I bet his nuts smell like cottage cheese.

Me: Does he know you like ‘em swaggly?

Her: Jealous?

Again, THAT word – that fucking word – flashed like a beacon behind my eyes. I felt the actual emotions course and burned through my veins almost as keenly as the cheap whiskey and all I could do was scowl at the bottom of my glass, helpless and pitiful, as she carried on with her date.

After what felt like hours of straining to eavesdrop on their conversation, their check arrived and she snatched it from the edge of the table before the doofus she was sharing her time with could protest. At this point, my body went on autopilot. Rising from the bar stool, my legs felt like jelly as they moved of their own accord, toward the secluded table in the corner of the restaurant. Then, before she noticed my presence, I slide smoothly into the booth seat beside her and eyed her idiotic date warily.

“Heyyy, babe. Who – who’s your little friend?”

She gawked at the bug eyed moron across the table, her own eyes wide with shock. A swell of pride bloomed in my chest when I realized that I had successfully ruined whatever ‘romantic’ evening he may have had planned for my girl.

“Hi, I’m Trevor,” he said, extending a hand toward me from across the table.

“Rick Sanchez,” I replied, not taking ‘Trevor’s’ offered hand but, instead, pulling her closer next to me. She remained speechless until I placed a hand on her knee and began gliding it up her nicely shaped thigh.

“Trevor and I were just going over the architectural plans I drew for his house,” she offered, lifting a large portfolio from the booth on the opposite side of her, closest to the wall, and placing it on the table. She turned to look at me straight in the eye and resisted the obvious urge to flinch back when she saw that my face was mere inches from hers.

“So, are you two… um…” Trevor began.

“Fuckin’? Yeah, man. Oh yeah – all the way. She – uh – she’s wild, too. I-I-I mean, not like you’d know. Or – or anything. Nah – she’s wayyy too hot – too fine.”

From beside me, she issued a terse laugh that bordered on hysterical while her date began to gather his things to leave.

“Don’t forget the drawings,” she said, taking the large, folded prints from her portfolio. “Please, look them over again and get back to me with the changes, okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, plucking the drawings from her delicate fingers. “I’ll email you.”

Just then, I felt a hot flush erupt though my body, originating from my chest, when the realization hit me square in the gut that I’d completely mistaken this entire situation. They really had been attending a business meeting and I’d just acted like a complete asshole; which was not a rare occurrence, to be sure. But, no fucking doubt, I’d screwed myself to the wall with the dumb ass shit I’d just pulled with her. Instead of folding my shitty hand, however, I kept with my time honored tradition of making sure I always get the last word – no matter what.

“Don’t l-let the door hit ya on the way out,” I called, giving Trevor a salute as he turned on his oddly high shinned loafers and hightailed it out of the restaurant. And, as soon as he was out of sight, she groaned and covered her face as my arm slowly retreated from her shoulder.

“Why?” she asked, her voice a high pitched whine but muffled behind her hands. Instead of replying, I ordered us both a scotch on the rocks as the waitress came by to pick up the check. When the drinks were delivered, she downed hers in one shot and then snatched mine to do the same.

Can you fucking blame her? my conscience chimed in as I pulled my flask for a swig and hunched over the table while attempting to play nonchalant. Then, she started giggling.

“What – w-what’s so fuckin’ funny?” I asked, sounding like a sourpuss even to my own ears. She giggled harder.

“You really think I’m fine?” she asked, shifting her upper body to fully face me in the booth.

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, though. What the hell was that?”

Again, I supplied no response. She knew that I knew I’d fucked up.

“By the way, Trevor is totally gay,” she cooed, breaking me from my pity party.

Something was happening. Glancing in her direction, I could see the blush rising in her cheeks. Then, in a not-so-subtle move, she pressed her tits against my arm when retrieving her card that the waitress had just dropped on the edge of the table and I literally had to force myself not to react.

She scooted closer to me in the booth and attempted to ‘casually’ drape one thigh over mine and grasped one of my hands from the table, planting it on her knee in a recreation of our secret grope session in the back of Beth’s car. Quirking a brow, I trailed my hand further up her thigh at a sensually slow place. She hitched a breath when I finally reached the hem of her lace panties, where I hooked a finger under the elastic and playfully snapped. She flirtatiously laughed in response, tilting her head to rest on my shoulder, but I refused to look at her – only slowly trailed my finger around the elastic on her thigh until I reached the apex of her legs.

Then, finally, I made eye contact as I nudged the thin fabric to the side and smoothly slid my middle and ring finger inside her. She was soaking wet.

“Oh fuuuck,” I whispered, closing my eyes. When I dragged my fingers out and slowly pushed them back in, she bit her bottom lip and dug her nails in the meaty flesh of my forearm to stifle a moan. She was still looking up into my face when I opened my eyes and pressed my lips her forehead, repeating the motion once more. “That feel good – y-you like that, beautiful?”

“Rick,” she breathed, as I withdrew my fingers to gently rub her clit. Her legs began to tremble so she circled the calf of the leg draped over mine around my calf and hooked her foot behind it, opening herself up wider. I pressed inside once again and she exhaled a shaky breath while staring up into my face. Just then, every dark desire I’d ever harbored for her bubbled to the surface and I simply didn’t have the willpower to refuse them any longer. Dropping a comically chaste kiss to her forehead, I performed a quick visual scan of our immediate area.

The restaurant had a dark ambiance by design to make each booth feel intimate. We were seated in a booth that was situated in the corner, set further apart from the remainder of the dining area. The side of the booth that we currently occupied was facing in such a way that we could not be seen head on. In the few seconds it took for me to perform a visual assessment, my hand and grown still between her legs. Apparently, that simply would not do – as evident by release of her vice grip from my forearm to my upper thigh, gliding upward until she fully cupped my already painfully hard cock through my slacks. I involuntarily jerked at the contact and returned my gaze to her face.

“I – I gotta taste you,” I declared, pitching my voice low so it could only be heard by her ears before completely extracting my soaking fingers from her cunt and exiting the booth. Obviously confused by my actions, she made to exit the booth herself and I stopped her with a curt, “Stay,” before taking a seat in the booth on the opposite end of the table, facing her. Then, propping my elbows on the table, I did one last visual scan of the room. Curious, she turned to see what I could be searching for and, while she was distracted, I slid from the booth seat to situate on my knees under the table before she or anyone else was the wiser. When I shuffled toward her and closed my hand around her right ankle, she squealed and jerked upward, attempted to yank her foot away in the process.

“Calm the fuck down!” I hissed, tightening my grip slightly in silent warning before gliding up her calf, my lips and tongue following close behind.

Glancing up her body in the semi-darkness, I caught her attempting to peak at me from under the cloth and smirked as my hands and mouth and tongue continued their teasing upward decent. When I reached her knee, I hooked my hand beneath it to hook her leg over my shoulder. Then, I shoved her opposite leg outward and wedged myself between her thighs to make room before hooking my fingers under the lace of her panties, yanking them to the side. Her body slightly trembled in a way that made my heart rate skyrocket drastically and, when my tongue finally made contact, I felt every muscle in her body tense and my ears were just able picked up her muffled gasps and moans.

I didn’t waste time with teasing. I lapped at her pussy, from top to bottom – truly tasting her – dragging the flat of my tongue up and down over and over. I probed her hole, pushing my tongue inside, fucking her with it until her legs instinctively tried to clamp around my head. I simply pushed the leg not over my shoulder outward once more and continued my mission, darting my tongue upward toward her clit where I circled and flicked the engorged bundle of nerves, making her body tremble and jerk in response.

Suddenly, I stopped and moved back slightly when the most scandalous idea occurred to me. Retrieving my cell phone, my fingers flew across the touch screen.

Me: Your pussy is so delicious baby.

Above me, she barked out a strangled laugh before shuffling around on the table top. Seconds later, my phone vibrated in response.

Her: Suck on my clit.

Feeling myself flush at her bold request – which seemed ironic considering I was the one eating her snatch under a restaurant table – I moved in closer still and wrapped my lips around her clit, just as she asked. No – demanded. No more than two minutes later, the familiar buzz interrupted me once more.

Her: I’m so close, Rick. Fuck me with your fingers, please!

And, I obliged – pressing my eager digits inside; curling and dragging and pressing. My mouth resumed the gently suckling of her clit, adding the sweeping motion of my tongue for good measure until she was full on shaking, unable to disguise it as her cunt clinched violently. I knew my good girl was so close for me.

Me: Cum on my face, my beautiful girl.

Right on cue, her body went entirely rigid; one hand slamming the top of the table while the knee resting over my shoulder jerked upward and slammed the bottom simultaneously as she came all over my face – just as I’d requested.

A moment later, I pulled back and gently lifted her leg from my shoulder. She nearly slid down the booth to the floor but I caught her calves and shoved her upward before reaching for my phone once more.

Me: Let me know when the coast is clear.

It was at least a few minutes before she stuck her hand under the table to wave me out. But, while I waited, I continued to sext her – making sure to keep her hot and bothered now that I knew she had a penchant for voyeurism.

Me: I’m not finished with you yet. I’m gonna fuck you stupid, sweetheart.

Me: It smells like your pussy under here.

Her: Bet me I won’t be banned from this restaurant for the rest of my life.

Me: Fuck that. Bet me this table won’t be reserved for months by every horny pervert within a 20 mile radius.

Me: We’ve done this dumb a favor.

When I finally reemerged on the other side of the booth, the spent expression she wore was so obvious that I couldn’t help the Cheshire grin that spread across my teeth as the rose colored blush tinted her chest, neck and cheeks. I had truly underestimated this girl, perhaps since the moment I’d met her.

Well, I was more than ready to make up for lost time.

To be continued…

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez #fanfiction #sister smith series #manipulation

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stony-ao3-feed · 5 years

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Ficlets For Your Heart

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2W5NGQV

by HuffleArtist

Small tidbits and ficlets to add to the story. Includes SpiderBird, Wilte, Stony and Nova being a gay little shit. Includes texts, dates, flashbacks and information on your favourite characters!

Words: 384, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of wiL LET GO OF MY BOYFRIEND-

Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Original Work

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man), Steve Rogers, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Avengers Team (MCU)

Relationships: OC/OC, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Original Male Character(s), Peter Parker & Original Character(s), Peter Parker/Original Male Character(s), Peter Parker/Original Character(s)

Additional Tags: Gay, Everyone Is Gay, Breaking the Fourth Wall, The Author Regrets Everything, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Precious Peter Parker, Bottom Peter Parker, Spies & Secret Agents, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Texting, Sweet, Childhood Sweethearts, Flashbacks

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2W5NGQV

#stony #fanfiction #ao3feed #superhusbands #stevetony

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salamanderinspace · 5 years

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Thoughts about Shameless (US).

I'm still on Season 7 so no spoilers past that.

I wasn't too concerned with Ian at first because he was an ROTC kid and well, how unrelatable. Except...not really? When I was his age I toyed with the idea of enlisting and even looked into attending West Point. If you're raised in that environment--that culture of poverty--there's really only one way up. You're also taught that you HAVE to climb up and out, that it's your responsibility to use everything you have to do better because otherwise you'll live the miserable life your parents lived.

Then as the show developed Ian came out as gay, went AWOL, and was diagnosed bipolar. The more his storyline unfolds the more he becomes my precious child. All the ships he's in are adorable. I loved him with Mickey even though it wasn't the healthiest relationship. It was...textured. Real. There was also a realism to his relationships with Kash, Ned, and Caleb. I'm just at the point where he meets a trans man and on the edge of my seat to see how that goes.

I really enjoyed the plot point where he ran off with Monica. There's something so realistic about how Frank and Monica are messed up. In my experience, growing up with abusive parents means you don't just learn once that they can't help you. You learn again and again, especially when you really need them. Monica makes me sad whereas Frank just makes me angry. I was chilly on him from the beginning but the show doesn't shy away from him being a manipulative narcissist and even a murderer (when he prevented that woman from getting a transplant heart.) I'm generally willing to give characters more credit than their writers do, but in Frank's case, I have no patience. I do think the show is unrealistic in how much responsibility it gives the Gallaghers toward their own poverty. Example: they show abuse of the welfare system as being easy and frequent when in reality it's almost impossible to get welfare even when you really do qualify for it. It mounts toward the other low-key narrative beat of "going to college solves everything" and the implication that people who live in the lower working class are there because they didn't do well in school. That's just not true anymore.

Anyway. One effect of this overblown agency the characters get is that it's really hard for me to like Fiona. I try--and DAMN she is pretty--but her choices constantly agitate me. I didn't like her with Jimmy and her subsequent relationship choices made me cringe. The shotgun marriage. Etc etc. Similarly I try to like Debbie but it's really hard to appreciate a character who deliberately had a baby at 15. Like, planned to. At the same time, I have the same feelings as with Ian--I remember growing up in that culture and being almost willing to make those choices because it was framed to me as the best way to become happy and whole. So I relate but I wince, which is, I think, the intention of a lot of the writing on the show.

I'm fond of Carl but I'm finding his new ambition--to become a cop--sort of out of character.

I miss Sheila. She was a fave. Imperfect but charming.

Kev/Veronica/Svetlana could easily become my new OTP. They're fully developed and flawed characters and I love them all. I'm also really wanting to ship Fiona with the pansexual girl from season--2? 3?--Jasmine. Or the lesbian who comes to the restaurant and spies on Fiona for Jimmy. Wish I knew her name.

#shameless #meta #ian gallagher #kevin x veronica

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blficarchive · 6 years

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Dirty secret by iilarryii (WORDS:122,946)

Additional Tags: #Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, #Alpha Harry, #Omega Louis, #Alpha Liam, #Alpha Zayn, #Alpha Niall, #Mulan AU, #or at least inspired by it, #War, #Enemies to Friends to Lovers, #Knotting, #Sassy Louis, #lying, #Bottom Louis, #Top Harry, #Mpreg, #Discussion of Abortion, #(It doesn't happen therefore just a discussion), #Character Death

Summary: "Dad, you can't go!" Louis yells to his father as he watches him pull out his sword.

"Louis, you know that I have to. It's the pack leaders orders," Dan says calmly. "I need you to promise me that you'll take care of the family if I die."

"So what? You'll just give up?"

"Of course not. I am just willing to die for my family's safety."

"So am I."

The Zoely pack is attacked by rogue alphas and the pack leader orders all alphas over the age of eighteen to protect their pack. Dan Deakin is one of the strongest alphas in the pack, but there is one problem. He has a wife and six kids to feed and look after. Louis is the oldest child and the one who wants to protect their family.

Or a Mulan AU where Louis is an omega who takes his father's place in the war.

I Chose You by alex4968 (WORDS: 13,495)

Additional Tags: N/A

Summary: When he wakes up, the room is much brighter than when he’d fallen asleep. He has to blink the sleep from his eyes and eventually he just tosses an arm over his face to try and ignore the brightness, but then he realizes that the bed has a decent sized dent in it that forms perfectly to his body and he’s comfortable. It’s – weird. He can’t remember leaving the blinds open, and it wouldn’t have made much sense for Zayn to have opened them, either, but he doesn’t think about it. Maybe he just hadn’t realized that he’d had such a nice bed when he’d fallen asleep.

After a moment, he groans and takes his arm away from his eyes and – wait. This is – this is not his hotel room. This is a bedroom.

[Or: Louis wakes up in another life.]

Red by frosteddream (WORDS: 26,099)

Additional Tags: #Fluff, #Smut, #wolfman Harry, #Minor Character Death

Summary: Shockwaves were sent through the village after the McPherson family was savagely killed. There were people who feared the beast that did it, and then there was Louis, or, as most people liked to call him, Red. (Little Red Riding Hood AU.)

Of Course, Mr. Styles by countingcr0ws (WORDS: 12,714)

Additional Tags: #Spies & Secret Agents, #SHIELD Agent Harry Styles. #Kid Fic, #Babysitter Louis, #Fluff, #Romance, #Daddy Harry, #University Student Louis, #Very little agenting though, #Meet-Cute, #Age Difference, #Domestic Fluff, #Humor, #Baking

Summary: Harry's new babysitter is unlike the four before him.

Louis Tomlinson with the blue eyes takes Harry's shirts without asking, buys enough boxes of cereal to feed a battalion, calls him a beetle in arguments, forces Harry to watch Grease the Musical with him, and wants Oliver to drink more milk just to see him be the tallest in class

Harry feels guilty about asking for more. He doesn't know how to tell Louis to play blanket fort with him and Olly instead of staying out.

I really fucking hate you by seducedbycurls (WORDS: 83,347)

Additional Tags: #Gangs, #ziall, #Drug Use, #mafia, #Alternate Universe, #Comedy, #Violence, #Dom!Harry, #Sub!Louis, #Child, #Parents Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, #Smut, #Alcohol Abuse, #Humor, #Abusive Relationships, #Drug Abuse, #Mutual Abuse, #Love/Hate, #AU, #Enemies to Lovers, 3possible triggers, #detailed drug use, #Drug Addiction, #Alcohol, #Drug Withdrawal, #Domestic, #Kid Fic, #Suicide Attempt, #Rewrite

Summary: Harry really fucking hates Louis. Louis really fucking hates Harry, kinda. Two boys from two separate Mafia’s are forced to meet somewhere in the middle. Louis is burdened with a child and Harry is burdened with Louis. Liam is a sniper who cant stop looking at the curly haired beauty through his scope. Niall wants to live and Zayn is gunna help him.

My English Love Affair by isthatyoularry (WORDS: 19,198)

Additional Tags: #Famous Harry, #Normal Louis, #White Eskimo, #Smut, #Fluff, #Swearing, #tiny foot kink - I'm sorry, #Louis is the subject of a very explicit hit tune, #there's an English love affair going on

Summary: The thing about sleeping with a member of a famous indie band is that the inevitability of having a song written about you is most likely a hundred percent. The second thing is that in the end, nobody's supposed to find out it's about you.

The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.

This Wicked Game by cherrystreet (WORDS: 70,010)

Additional Tags: #Bachelor AU, #Alternate Universe, #Anal Sex, #Hand Jobs, #Blow Jobs, #Top Harry, #Bottom Louis, #Mentions Of Infidelity, #Fluff, #Smut

Summary: An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

Emperor's New Clothes by sunsetmog (WORDS: 92,072)

Additional Tags: #Secret Relationship, #Pets, #Alternate Universe, #Famous Harry, #Non-Famous Louis, #Outing, #Money Troubles, #Mild Peril, #boys making some poor language choices, #Tabloid Journalism, #Harassment, #Relationship Negotiation

Summary: The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

A Match Made in Aisle Three (Everybody Cut Footloose) by kikikryslee (WORDS: 16,529)

Additional Tags: #Alternate Universe - College/University, #Fluff, #Pining, #Mutual Pining, #I seem to write that a lot, #No Angst, #Drama Student Louis, #Frat Boy Harry, #Smut, #Blow Jobs, #Cashier Louis, #supermarket, #harry and louis are the same age, #Footloose - Freeform, #Shy Louis, #Nervous Harry, #Awkward Flirting

Summary: “Don’t feel bad,” Louis said. “You picked the machine that freaks out on customers more often than not. It’s not your fault it froze on you.”

“Oh, OK,” Harry replied. “Glad it’s not just me, then.” “Yeah. Um, I'll move your stuff to one that works." "Wait, don't!" Too late. Before Harry could finish his request, Louis saw what Harry's purchase was – a giant bottle of lube. Awkward. So Louis did what he does best: made it even more awkward. “Big night tonight?” Idiot. --- Or, the one where Louis is a drama student/cashier who assists Harry in buying a bottle of lube, and is also the only guy that frat boy Harry has trouble talking to. Also featuring Sophia as stubborn matchmaker and Liam as accidental wingman.

heart born out of fire by bloody_blade0 (WORDS: 31,212)

Additional Tags: #Alpha Harry, #Omega Louis, #Dark, #CEO Harry, #soft louis, #Death, #light drugs, #Louis is in a dark place, #Top Harry, #Bottom Louis, #Knotting, #Sex, #Artist Zayn, #Artist Louis, #Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, #Past Rape/Non-con, #just mentioned, #Depressed Louis, #Protective Harry, #Protective Zayn, #Possessive Harry, #Sad Louis, #Insomnia, #Hurt/Comfort, #Fluffy, #Smutty, #Panic Attacks, #Anxiety, #Low Self Esteem, #Fingering, #Dom/sub Undertones

Summary: au where louis is a sad, sad omega in hiding who hides from everyone and trusts no one. until he does.

#sorry this is coming so late #i'm gonna do monthly rrecs instead of weekly #larry fic rec #larrie fic rec #larry #larry stylinson #Harry/Louis #harry styles/louis tomlinson #bottom louis #top harry #fic rec #weekly fic rec #i'm still gonna tag it as weekly fic rec tho just to keep them all together

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libidomechanica · 3 years

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Untitled Composition # 8655

So unexhausts itself, longs for those silver-white. — “David, speaking, one spied its sores and bulky worth is friend. Without a part sweeps from poems yet men die miscast. Dew sat on Julias hair in ‘t surmounted with water-drops, as if the World. I found a temple of all whose soul-shift the high turrets forth; your patron; Have you ended by a married lady— pure as Psyche ere she still she bore the living head, each under straight controls. over the sum could escape, the trembling tower, and seven blossom. To hear me I wont look from Heavens brink. Without restrained appetite ; like weeds, as if she Autumn beautiful amid the very Botany Bay in more meet were sure to be,’ and that eer by precious gums are nothing to her pitying the Stone that yourself and his raptures speaking billow; even with rust, she now enjoys, even what is already in the strife; then soft Catullus, sharp- fangd Martial, His fathers way; beware; for on the sullen years; not only give account to none. and never hold, the venerable priest and Sorrowes eloquence could not love continual hair— belle Isle, —unfolded to pour myselfe for signal-elm, that arise like thing, and bounds of dapple brown hair sprent with a far higher hope it seemed present and smild, and still had seen many a time and gay. Yet ( lest, surer bound, nor this road against the skies, with flower amang the way to where Mahler wrote should be told; her over, through soon she can lend— they both are born by the Room they left, and blinder mind; her noble hands unseen film, an orbed drops are thy virgin that really take this moments, ere they once and chicken featherd to publish thy drowsy frowzy poem, calld lovely, lordly creatures, but in him; cold spring and kittens, he chosen what and when they had, alas, the tree, some prescience of him be shown: ill prove her trim prepared to make you remains to know, an image of you that laden are with trembling leaves about on Neptunes restless warmth and air and stirrd; and when oh, not often found methodistic, or Eclectic ( for these Jack and spread but as the Colchian day taught Grief to fall like music of my dark hedges. and Logos appeared. And wishing, She rose like a clew of golden splendor. The Pyrrhic dance together. (But that breath be rude.)) So looks so old and cure the hopes are finger-tips in tender strange to find, as was not fair, in bloom go I!)”

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #173 texts

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logan-are-you-okay · 6 years

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Marriage Behind Closed Doors

Chase couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried the images came flooding back to him. Stacy might’ve seem nice, sweet on the outside, but she was a nightmare dressed like a Day Dream. She wouldn’t believe him when he said that he wasn’t flirting with the girl after a “bro average” shoot, or that he wasn’t off with some slut to have sex. Stacy would always call him every hour to check up on him, but when he didn’t pick up right then... hell would be paid when he would get home. Chase tried everything that he could to please her, but nothing seemed to work.

He slowly raises his hand to the scar that he had on the corner of his eye. She had been very abusive during the whole relationship, but that one scar he can’t not see. Always in the corner of his vision, always when he looked in the mirror, every time he filmed a episode the fans would ask where he go it. Yes he has many other scars from her, but those are all underneath his clothing. Mainly on his back and chest.

Slowly turning over to the opposite side of the bed he looks out the window on this rainy night, he used to find the rain peaceful. The crashing sound of thunder, the brightness of the lightning striking the ground, the soft pitter pattern of rain drops hitting the window. He adored it, it was his one place where he could escape to when everything went wrong... but not anymore. Slowly closing his eyes, he remembers that day. All to recent, it was only a couple months ago.

He had just walked home from the shoot of a ‘Bro Average’ video, and was taking his time walking in the rain. Letting the cold droplets run down his bright green hair and down his face. His eyes where half lidded as he walked, it was very close to midnight after all. Stacy had called him about around nine o’clock and he didn’t answer. His manger wanted to go over an idea for relocating the set to LA, because there was a man by the name of ‘Bing’ who had offered to help progress the series to become global. Chase was so excited to tell Stacy, but when he saw that he missed her call... he wasn’t as excited.

Once he had finally got home, he opened the door and went inside. Taking off his shoes before he walked on the hardwood, Stacy hated a messy house. He was finally able to work the nerve up to walk into the bedroom, and talk to her. He had just hoped to god that she was asleep, so he could think over what to tell her in the morning... his prayers didn’t work. As soon as he opened the door he was met with a hard ass slap to his face. It was so hard his head snapped to that direction and made him fall over. Chase remembered the vicious look in her eyes as she lowered her body down to his eye level.

“Where the fuck where you?” The harsh tone still rings in his ears, even to this day.

“I was walking home from-“ he gets cut off mid-sentence with a sharp tug of his hair pulling him into the room and a large slam against the door that took the wind out of him.

“Don’t lie to me you son of a bitch! It’s nearly midnight and you DARE have the motherfucking guts to tell me you where at that damn SHOOT all day?!” She practically screams.

Instinctively his fingers clench onto the pillow he was sleeping on. Why couldn’t his mind just shut off for two minutes so he can sleep in peace?

“Honey, quiet down... you’ll wake up the-“ this time Stacy grabbed him by the collar of his shirt pulling him closer to her in a fast motion. Almost fast enough to give some one whiplash.

“Don’t tell me what I can or can not do, cunt! You belong to me, not the other way around! You don’t talk to bitches, you don’t look at bitches, you sure as HELL don’t talk to me like a bitch!” She said as she dug her nails into the skin on his arm. He screwed his eyes so that he wouldn’t yell out. It was the middle of the night, he didn’t want his kids to wake up early and be tired for school the next day. Even though how badly he just wanted to call out for help.

“Stacy... I d-didn’t have the car today... y..you did, I had to w-walk home...” he tried to explain with a desperate plea in his voice.

“Sooooo is that suppose to tell me that you didn’t happen to fuck the girl you where talking to when I called? What’s her name... Yolanda?” With that sentence his eyes popped open and he saw the rage fulled eyes staring back at him.

“Y-Yolanda is just my manager... where you stalking m-me?” He managed to squeal out. Why would she have snuck in and spied on him at work? Does she really not trust him that much?

“Like Hell She is, I saw those plastic breast that she was trying to fucking show off!”

“Please baby... lower your voice... swearing is bad for the kids ears-“ He then was met with being thrown across the room and landing on the edge of the frame that held the bed. He wasn’t able to catch himself and his head hit directly on the corner. He was able to land on his knees, but he felt something running down his face as he slowly got up. He slowly touched what he felt, pulled it back, and saw the blood.

“I don’t fucking care Chase! You are MINE and MINE alone!”

Chase Quickly sits up from the bed in a panic breathing quickly and heavily. He doesn’t want to remember, he doesn’t! Why should he remember such a horrible time in his life!? He then starts to cry at the top of his lungs and just scream as if he was getting murdered.

Screaming is the easiest way to get it out of his system, people always say that guys shouldn’t hit girls. That women are to precious and can’t handle themselves. Not once as he touched her in anyway to be abusive, never slapped, hit, punch, rape, anything! It’s perfectly fine for a women to grab a man and sexually assault him while she was drunk... while he couldn’t fight back because of morals. He couldn’t even fight back or he would be put in jail... no one ever suspects a man to be getting abused... no one ever thinks that a girl could ever harm someone to such an extent... no one ever thinks that the bruises, scars, dried blood is from the nature of a unhinged mother.

They all think ‘Hey, he must be a real daredevil to get those scars’ or ‘He must be a major cults.’ No one believes him when he tried to tell someone. They all say, ‘take like a man, or your just being a pansy.’

Even being this far away from her and being in possession of the kids, she still manages to haunt him. Still torment him as if she was right there beating him up all over again. Thankfully she was arrested for a DUI so he got possession while she’s in jail... but it doesn’t help. Yes he’s safe with the kids, but the past eight years of marriage can cause some seriously horrible PTSD.

“It’s three in the morning, so would you please stop screaming so I can get some sleep.” A sudden sharp voice blazes through the room.

Chase Quickly stops and looks right at the door frame. His heart nearly stops as he sees Bing in the door way in his tight black tank top and boxers. After Stacy got arrested he took the offer from his manager and moved to LA with his kids. Bing really wanted the show to work so he offered his place for Them to stay at while Chase searches for an official home to move into.

“Dude, have you been crying?” Bing asks with a concern tone.

What had he been crying!? Oh shit, just his fucking luck! Quickly he wipes away his tears as Bing slowly came walking into the room. Bing might’ve been your typical douchebag skater boy, but he knew when it was time to calm down and help someone.

“I-It’s nothing! J-just... just a little nightmare is all!” Chase says trying to reassure, but he was shaking. A dream wouldn’t do that so easily.

He then watches as Bing sits on the bed next to him, and his heart starts going a million miles a minute! Yes he might’ve just woken up, but he sure as hell was awake now! Chase has always had a crush on the most famous ‘BingIplier’ after watching his famous segments on ‘Markiplier TV’ station. He knows it seems bad... but he’s always been bisexual. He always preferred men over the women, but growing up you couldn’t be gay. It was never social acceptable so he just went with the other option. Maybe he should’ve just went against natures laws...

“Chase... I know that it wasn’t just a nightmare. Come on Bro, what do you take me for? An idiot?” He says with a joking manner trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t help.

Chase looks away from him and stares at the thunder storm out the window. He might not enjoy it anymore, but it’s better then looking at the chunk of meat next to him. Trying to calm down his shaking hands and heart he takes a deep breath and lets his eyes go lidded. He just needs to calm down... deep breaths... in and out... not long his brain goes back to a different time Stacy hurt him and his eyes screw up with a small flinch. Why can’t he just escape these memories? What did he do that was so wrong that god had to torture him like this? He’s never smoked, hurt anyone... badly, or kill anyone... guess the saying that bad things happen to good people comes into affect, huh?

Suddenly he feels a pair of warm, masculine arms wrap around him as his eyes dart open as his body tenses up.

“Bing!? What are you-“

“Sh... Sh... it’s okay, I promise.” There was a calming and sense of peace to his tone of voice. At first his mind went a thousand miles an hour! What does this mean!? Is he just trying to comfort him!? Is he just doing this for show!? Is he trying to gain trust and make him like HIM better!? After several minutes of letting this happen, Chase slowly lets his muscles relax into the embrace. Not a single thought of panic crossed his mind. It was... peaceful... warm... sweet... and he felt safe... something that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He even finally starts to fall asleep as he looks up at Bing who was playing with Chases hair.

“I won’t ask tonight, but I expect answers in the morning.” Bing says with a commanding, but kind voice.

Chases eyes completely close with a small nod of his head in agreement, he didn’t mean to, but it just happened. He finally falls asleep, something he hasn’t done in months. The only thing is... is that Bing didn’t leave after Chase had fallen asleep. Nothing wrong with that, just bro’s being dudes... right?

( @untrustworthyglitch I tried the dialogue text you gave me! Also @alaughingfreak tried to make a little angst, don’t know if it worked)

#chase brody #septicart #jacksepticeye egos #jacksepticeye #bro average #Markiplier #bingiplier #stacy #abusive relationship #escape #it counts fanficton is still a form of art

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itsapoemeveryday-blog · 6 years

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Goblin Market

Morning and evening Maids heard the goblins cry: “Come buy our orchard fruits, Come buy, come buy: Apples and quinces, Lemons and oranges, Plump unpeck’d cherries, Melons and raspberries, Bloom-down-cheek’d peaches, Swart-headed mulberries, Wild free-born cranberries, Crab-apples, dewberries, Pine-apples, blackberries, Apricots, strawberries;— All ripe together In summer weather,— Morns that pass by, Fair eves that fly; Come buy, come buy: Our grapes fresh from the vine, Pomegranates full and fine, Dates and sharp bullaces, Rare pears and greengages, Damsons and bilberries, Taste them and try: Currants and gooseberries, Bright-fire-like barberries, Figs to fill your mouth, Citrons from the South, Sweet to tongue and sound to eye; Come buy, come buy.”

Evening by evening Among the brookside rushes, Laura bow’d her head to hear, Lizzie veil’d her blushes: Crouching close together In the cooling weather, With clasping arms and cautioning lips, With tingling cheeks and finger tips. “Lie close,” Laura said, Pricking up her golden head: “We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?” “Come buy,” call the goblins Hobbling down the glen.

“Oh,” cried Lizzie, “Laura, Laura, You should not peep at goblin men.” Lizzie cover’d up her eyes, Cover’d close lest they should look; Laura rear’d her glossy head, And whisper’d like the restless brook: “Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie, Down the glen tramp little men. One hauls a basket, One bears a plate, One lugs a golden dish Of many pounds weight. How fair the vine must grow Whose grapes are so luscious; How warm the wind must blow Through those fruit bushes.” “No,” said Lizzie, “No, no, no; Their offers should not charm us, Their evil gifts would harm us.” She thrust a dimpled finger In each ear, shut eyes and ran: Curious Laura chose to linger Wondering at each merchant man. One had a cat’s face, One whisk’d a tail, One tramp’d at a rat’s pace, One crawl’d like a snail, One like a wombat prowl’d obtuse and furry, One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry. She heard a voice like voice of doves Cooing all together: They sounded kind and full of loves In the pleasant weather.

Laura stretch’d her gleaming neck Like a rush-imbedded swan, Like a lily from the beck, Like a moonlit poplar branch, Like a vessel at the launch When its last restraint is gone.

Backwards up the mossy glen Turn’d and troop’d the goblin men, With their shrill repeated cry, “Come buy, come buy.” When they reach’d where Laura was They stood stock still upon the moss, Leering at each other, Brother with queer brother; Signalling each other, Brother with sly brother. One set his basket down, One rear’d his plate; One began to weave a crown Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown (Men sell not such in any town); One heav’d the golden weight Of dish and fruit to offer her: “Come buy, come buy,” was still their cry. Laura stared but did not stir, Long’d but had no money: The whisk-tail’d merchant bade her taste In tones as smooth as honey, The cat-faced purr’d, The rat-faced spoke a word Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard; One parrot-voiced and jolly Cried “Pretty Goblin” still for “Pretty Polly;”— One whistled like a bird.

But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste: “Good folk, I have no coin; To take were to purloin: I have no copper in my purse, I have no silver either, And all my gold is on the furze That shakes in windy weather Above the rusty heather.” “You have much gold upon your head,” They answer’d all together: “Buy from us with a golden curl.” She clipp’d a precious golden lock, She dropp’d a tear more rare than pearl, Then suck’d their fruit globes fair or red: Sweeter than honey from the rock, Stronger than man-rejoicing wine, Clearer than water flow’d that juice; She never tasted such before, How should it cloy with length of use? She suck’d and suck’d and suck’d the more Fruits which that unknown orchard bore; She suck’d until her lips were sore; Then flung the emptied rinds away But gather’d up one kernel stone, And knew not was it night or day As she turn’d home alone.

Lizzie met her at the gate Full of wise upbraidings: “Dear, you should not stay so late, Twilight is not good for maidens; Should not loiter in the glen In the haunts of goblin men. Do you not remember Jeanie, How she met them in the moonlight, Took their gifts both choice and many, Ate their fruits and wore their flowers Pluck’d from bowers Where summer ripens at all hours? But ever in the noonlight She pined and pined away; Sought them by night and day, Found them no more, but dwindled and grew grey; Then fell with the first snow, While to this day no grass will grow Where she lies low: I planted daisies there a year ago That never blow. You should not loiter so.” “Nay, hush,” said Laura: “Nay, hush, my sister: I ate and ate my fill, Yet my mouth waters still; To-morrow night I will Buy more;” and kiss’d her: “Have done with sorrow; I’ll bring you plums to-morrow Fresh on their mother twigs, Cherries worth getting; You cannot think what figs My teeth have met in, What melons icy-cold Piled on a dish of gold Too huge for me to hold, What peaches with a velvet nap, Pellucid grapes without one seed: Odorous indeed must be the mead Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink With lilies at the brink, And sugar-sweet their sap.”

Golden head by golden head, Like two pigeons in one nest Folded in each other’s wings, They lay down in their curtain’d bed: Like two blossoms on one stem, Like two flakes of new-fall’n snow, Like two wands of ivory Tipp’d with gold for awful kings. Moon and stars gaz’d in at them, Wind sang to them lullaby, Lumbering owls forbore to fly, Not a bat flapp’d to and fro Round their rest: Cheek to cheek and breast to breast Lock’d together in one nest.

Early in the morning When the first cock crow’d his warning, Neat like bees, as sweet and busy, Laura rose with Lizzie: Fetch’d in honey, milk’d the cows, Air’d and set to rights the house, Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat, Cakes for dainty mouths to eat, Next churn’d butter, whipp’d up cream, Fed their poultry, sat and sew’d; Talk’d as modest maidens should: Lizzie with an open heart, Laura in an absent dream, One content, one sick in part; One warbling for the mere bright day’s delight, One longing for the night.

At length slow evening came: They went with pitchers to the reedy brook; Lizzie most placid in her look, Laura most like a leaping flame. They drew the gurgling water from its deep; Lizzie pluck’d purple and rich golden flags, Then turning homeward said: “The sunset flushes Those furthest loftiest crags; Come, Laura, not another maiden lags. No wilful squirrel wags, The beasts and birds are fast asleep.” But Laura loiter’d still among the rushes And said the bank was steep.

And said the hour was early still The dew not fall’n, the wind not chill; Listening ever, but not catching The customary cry, “Come buy, come buy,” With its iterated jingle Of sugar-baited words: Not for all her watching Once discerning even one goblin Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling; Let alone the herds That used to tramp along the glen, In groups or single, Of brisk fruit-merchant men.

Till Lizzie urged, “O Laura, come; I hear the fruit-call but I dare not look: You should not loiter longer at this brook: Come with me home. The stars rise, the moon bends her arc, Each glowworm winks her spark, Let us get home before the night grows dark: For clouds may gather Though this is summer weather, Put out the lights and drench us through; Then if we lost our way what should we do?”

Laura turn’d cold as stone To find her sister heard that cry alone, That goblin cry, “Come buy our fruits, come buy.” Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit? Must she no more such succous pasture find, Gone deaf and blind? Her tree of life droop’d from the root: She said not one word in her heart’s sore ache; But peering thro’ the dimness, nought discerning, Trudg’d home, her pitcher dripping all the way; So crept to bed, and lay Silent till Lizzie slept; Then sat up in a passionate yearning, And gnash’d her teeth for baulk’d desire, and wept As if her heart would break.

Day after day, night after night, Laura kept watch in vain In sullen silence of exceeding pain. She never caught again the goblin cry: “Come buy, come buy;”— She never spied the goblin men Hawking their fruits along the glen: But when the noon wax’d bright Her hair grew thin and grey; She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn To swift decay and burn Her fire away.

One day remembering her kernel-stone She set it by a wall that faced the south; Dew’d it with tears, hoped for a root, Watch’d for a waxing shoot, But there came none; It never saw the sun, It never felt the trickling moisture run: While with sunk eyes and faded mouth She dream’d of melons, as a traveller sees False waves in desert drouth With shade of leaf-crown’d trees, And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.

She no more swept the house, Tended the fowls or cows, Fetch’d honey, kneaded cakes of wheat, Brought water from the brook: But sat down listless in the chimney-nook And would not eat.

Tender Lizzie could not bear To watch her sister’s cankerous care Yet not to share. She night and morning Caught the goblins’ cry: “Come buy our orchard fruits, Come buy, come buy;”— Beside the brook, along the glen, She heard the tramp of goblin men, The yoke and stir Poor Laura could not hear; Long’d to buy fruit to comfort her, But fear’d to pay too dear. She thought of Jeanie in her grave, Who should have been a bride; But who for joys brides hope to have Fell sick and died In her gay prime, In earliest winter time With the first glazing rime, With the first snow-fall of crisp winter time.

Till Laura dwindling Seem’d knocking at Death’s door: Then Lizzie weigh’d no more Better and worse; But put a silver penny in her purse, Kiss’d Laura, cross’d the heath with clumps of furze At twilight, halted by the brook: And for the first time in her life Began to listen and look.

Laugh’d every goblin When they spied her peeping: Came towards her hobbling, Flying, running, leaping, Puffing and blowing, Chuckling, clapping, crowing, Clucking and gobbling, Mopping and mowing, Full of airs and graces, Pulling wry faces, Demure grimaces, Cat-like and rat-like, Ratel- and wombat-like, Snail-paced in a hurry, Parrot-voiced and whistler, Helter skelter, hurry skurry, Chattering like magpies, Fluttering like pigeons, Gliding like fishes,— Hugg’d her and kiss’d her: Squeez’d and caress’d her: Stretch’d up their dishes, Panniers, and plates: “Look at our apples Russet and dun, Bob at our cherries, Bite at our peaches, Citrons and dates, Grapes for the asking, Pears red with basking Out in the sun, Plums on their twigs; Pluck them and suck them, Pomegranates, figs.”—

“Good folk,” said Lizzie, Mindful of Jeanie: “Give me much and many: — Held out her apron, Toss’d them her penny. “Nay, take a seat with us, Honour and eat with us,” They answer’d grinning: “Our feast is but beginning. Night yet is early, Warm and dew-pearly, Wakeful and starry: Such fruits as these No man can carry: Half their bloom would fly, Half their dew would dry, Half their flavour would pass by. Sit down and feast with us, Be welcome guest with us, Cheer you and rest with us.”— “Thank you,” said Lizzie: “But one waits At home alone for me: So without further parleying, If you will not sell me any Of your fruits though much and many, Give me back my silver penny I toss’d you for a fee.”— They began to scratch their pates, No longer wagging, purring, But visibly demurring, Grunting and snarling. One call’d her proud, Cross-grain’d, uncivil; Their tones wax’d loud, Their looks were evil. Lashing their tails They trod and hustled her, Elbow’d and jostled her, Claw’d with their nails, Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking, Tore her gown and soil’d her stocking, Twitch’d her hair out by the roots, Stamp’d upon her tender feet, Held her hands and squeez’d their fruits Against her mouth to make her eat.

White and golden Lizzie stood, Like a lily in a flood,— Like a rock of blue-vein’d stone Lash’d by tides obstreperously,— Like a beacon left alone In a hoary roaring sea, Sending up a golden fire,— Like a fruit-crown’d orange-tree White with blossoms honey-sweet Sore beset by wasp and bee,— Like a royal virgin town Topp’d with gilded dome and spire Close beleaguer’d by a fleet Mad to tug her standard down.

One may lead a horse to water, Twenty cannot make him drink. Though the goblins cuff’d and caught her, Coax’d and fought her, Bullied and besought her, Scratch’d her, pinch’d her black as ink, Kick’d and knock’d her, Maul’d and mock’d her, Lizzie utter’d not a word; Would not open lip from lip Lest they should cram a mouthful in: But laugh’d in heart to feel the drip Of juice that syrupp’d all her face, And lodg’d in dimples of her chin, And streak’d her neck which quaked like curd. At last the evil people, Worn out by her resistance, Flung back her penny, kick’d their fruit Along whichever road they took, Not leaving root or stone or shoot; Some writh’d into the ground, Some div’d into the brook With ring and ripple, Some scudded on the gale without a sound, Some vanish’d in the distance.

In a smart, ache, tingle, Lizzie went her way; Knew not was it night or day; Sprang up the bank, tore thro’ the furze, Threaded copse and dingle, And heard her penny jingle Bouncing in her purse,— Its bounce was music to her ear. She ran and ran As if she fear’d some goblin man Dogg’d her with gibe or curse Or something worse: But not one goblin scurried after, Nor was she prick’d by fear; The kind heart made her windy-paced That urged her home quite out of breath with haste And inward laughter.

She cried, “Laura,” up the garden, “Did you miss me? Come and kiss me. Never mind my bruises, Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices Squeez’d from goblin fruits for you, Goblin pulp and goblin dew. Eat me, drink me, love me; Laura, make much of me; For your sake I have braved the glen And had to do with goblin merchant men.”

Laura started from her chair, Flung her arms up in the air, Clutch’d her hair: “Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted For my sake the fruit forbidden? Must your light like mine be hidden, Your young life like mine be wasted, Undone in mine undoing, And ruin’d in my ruin, Thirsty, canker’d, goblin-ridden?”— She clung about her sister, Kiss’d and kiss’d and kiss’d her: Tears once again Refresh’d her shrunken eyes, Dropping like rain After long sultry drouth; Shaking with aguish fear, and pain, She kiss’d and kiss’d her with a hungry mouth.

Her lips began to scorch, That juice was wormwood to her tongue, She loath’d the feast: Writhing as one possess’d she leap’d and sung, Rent all her robe, and wrung Her hands in lamentable haste, And beat her breast. Her locks stream’d like the torch Borne by a racer at full speed, Or like the mane of horses in their flight, Or like an eagle when she stems the light Straight toward the sun, Or like a caged thing freed, Or like a flying flag when armies run.

Swift fire spread through her veins, knock’d at her heart, Met the fire smouldering there And overbore its lesser flame; She gorged on bitterness without a name: Ah! fool, to choose such part Of soul-consuming care! Sense fail’d in the mortal strife: Like the watch-tower of a town Which an earthquake shatters down, Like a lightning-stricken mast, Like a wind-uprooted tree Spun about, Like a foam-topp’d waterspout Cast down headlong in the sea, She fell at last; Pleasure past and anguish past, Is it death or is it life?

Life out of death. That night long Lizzie watch’d by her, Counted her pulse’s flagging stir, Felt for her breath, Held water to her lips, and cool’d her face With tears and fanning leaves: But when the first birds chirp’d about their eaves, And early reapers plodded to the place Of golden sheaves, And dew-wet grass Bow’d in the morning winds so brisk to pass, And new buds with new day Open’d of cup-like lilies on the stream, Laura awoke as from a dream, Laugh’d in the innocent old way, Hugg’d Lizzie but not twice or thrice; Her gleaming locks show’d not one thread of grey, Her breath was sweet as May And light danced in her eyes.

Days, weeks, months, years Afterwards, when both were wives With children of their own; Their mother-hearts beset with fears, Their lives bound up in tender lives; Laura would call the little ones And tell them of her early prime, Those pleasant days long gone Of not-returning time: Would talk about the haunted glen, The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men, Their fruits like honey to the throat But poison in the blood; (Men sell not such in any town): Would tell them how her sister stood In deadly peril to do her good, And win the fiery antidote: Then joining hands to little hands Would bid them cling together, “For there is no friend like a sister In calm or stormy weather; To cheer one on the tedious way, To fetch one if one goes astray, To lift one if one totters down, To strengthen whilst one stands.”

This 1862 poem by Christina Rossetti remains one of my favourite testimonies to something that has always been very close to my heart: sisterhood and female bonding. In a world where women are taught to despise each other, compete with each other over the most trivial things, and treat each other as enemies, we need to remember the message of this wonderful narrative poem.

#poetry #itsapoemeveryday #a poem a day #poems #christina rossetti #victorian #literature #female bonding #sisterhood

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