#Under the Miracle Cherry Tree

[diversamenteintelligente]

(via UNDER THE MIRACLE CHERRY TREE)

Può un amore incompiuto attraversare il tempo, lo spazio e il mondi dei vivi e dei morti?

#diversamente intelligente #diamanta #drama #drama giapponese #jdrama #drama universe #iitoyo marie #recensioni #romantico #sakura #sano hayato #soprannaturale #under the miracle cherry tree

[momijiparfait]

I’m generally not into dramas, but Under the miracle cherry tree is so heartwarming, I genuinely felt emotional watching it.

#also iori is so pure #under the miracle cherry tree

[autisticmao]

GENRE: angst

FEATURED: joel - mentioned

WARNINGS: ooc, rushed writing, ig one-sided smalletho kinda?

PROMPT: The petal falls, and so does the feelings for another.

WORD COUNT: 403

As he watched the last petal of the cherry blossom tree fall to the ground, a sharp sensation of pain jabs at his heart like a knife perfectly stabbed with the right momentum to get to the organ.

Etho's view from where he stood under the rotting old tree turns to in front of him, watching on with neediness at seeing the one he felt lured to the most being around others. From where he stood, Etho could hear the cherry happy cheers of Joel echoing the rural area.

The sand made castle of his feelings fell like beautiful golden drops, crystallised memories flowing as he watched on.

Many memories. For more than Etho could ever count, of what was once a wonderland of timeless ticking melted one with his soul of reality, bringing the article of daydream down into the awakening horizon.

Seeing the way that Joel acted around others, whether he realised that Etho was watching from far behind or not, was like a cutting edge. His body stung with over a thousand bees, wanting to go up to Joel and speak so casually like he used to in the fine past.

But Joel was like a miracle. A bigbang of brilliance amongst an infinite amount of stars, one that no other could ever compete against even if somebody dared to try.

Joel was the forbidden rain amongst the sacred clouds, welcoming the night of trickiness and a day full of reflected plans.

Even as Etho reached his palm out in front of him, letting it face towards the blackout of the night sky, Joel was too far from his reach. A sacred oath that only the butterflies of promises were ever allowed to be near.

The dying cherry blossom tree he stood underneath reminded him of his relationship with Joel. Each pink petal held a memory of youth that only they could have ever found upon.

With each petal that fell, and with time dancing through the rough days and nights, each memory together slowly evaporated. Thinned out into non-existence. The further their relationship was difficult to handle.

Stupidly, Etho dreamed on about Joel. Wanting to keep the male in his arms, letting the leaves of spring make belief of everything around them.

But the monster of reality was harsh to Etho. The wild beast always takes over the truth. Etho was nothing but a distorted faith compared to Joel.

#character joel and character etho #smalletho fanfic #smallishbeans fanfiction #smalletho #joel smallishbeans #smallishbeans #ethoslab fanfiction #ethoslab #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt #hermitcraft 10 #life series #oneshot #fanfic writing #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #boat boys

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Pausing my ugly crying to ask for a drabble of vilya and vesper playing together under the cherry tree, please?

(I told you I was gonna ask for it. No rush, obviously.)

read these first! probably not what you were thinking but i don't really know these kids' personalities yet lol

turned my water into wine #43

In a million years, this is never where Vex thought she would be at this stage in her life. If she were being honest with herself, which she is, sometimes, she hadn't expected she would make it to this stage at all, not considering the life she and her brother lead for so long. There were so many opportunities for tragedy, for missteps, for one or both of them to falter in their desperate attempts to stay alive.

And yet here they are, backs against the sprawling cherry tree on the castle grounds in Zephrah, watching their young daughters stumble and giggle around the hill in front of them. Vilya is up to Vex's knee now, unbelievable as it is, and Vesper, with her shock of white hair and her father's piercing eyes, scoots about after her, shrieking happily and sticking fistfuls of grass in her mouth.

"Is this real, brother?" she murmurs, tipping her head onto his shoulder.

He presses his cheek into the crown of her head. "Which part, the children or the diseases Vesper is undoubtedly giving herself right now?"

She elbows him. "All of it, you ass."

Just then, Vesper falls to her side and lets out a wail. Before either of them can move, Vilya is there, her favorite stuffed bear in hand, which she unceremoniously plops onto her cousin's chest. The crying ceases at once, and Vesper coos into the bear's fur. Vex can feel her brother grinning.

Vilya toddles up to them, then, leaving Vesper to enjoy her borrowed toy, and says, "Papa, Ves sad!"

Vax reaches out to snatch his daughter up in a hug. "Ves was sad, seedling." Vex straightens up to watch him plant a big kiss on her cheek. "But you made her feel better. That was very kind of you."

"Snack now?" The question is asked with a twist of hope, and Vex laughs.

"Generosity shown in the hopes of a future reward?" Vex tickles her side. "You are my niece, after all."

Vax rolls his eyes and stands, deftly flipping Vilya around so she's perched on his shoulders. "Someday I'm going to have to bail her out of some kind of trouble she learned from you, you understand that, don't you?"

"Nonsense." Vex pads over to her own little girl, whom she scoops up and rests on her hip. "She's going to come to me for such assistance, because she'll know by then that Auntie Vex can get her out of anything." She kisses Vesper's nose, and the baby giggles.

They head back toward the cottage, where Keyleth, with her round belly and her remarkably improved culinary skills, should be close to having the girls' lunch ready. As they walk, Vax nudges Vex's hip with his own. "Hey Stubby?"

"What?"

"It is real. All of it."

And Vex grins from ear to ear, because he's right, and there is no more astonishing miracle than this little life.

#ask #ravendruid #critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #my fic #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #vaxleth au #vox machina #vox machina au #tlovm #tlovm fic #my fair lady #turned my water into wine

[electrospherevaults]

Blossoming a wilder flower

[Find other stories from the 2024 Friday Writing Challenge here]

An orchard is meant to preserve life. Every day since she was a little kid, she witnessed this miracle with her own eyes. She had played amidst the naked trunks every winter, and explored the nooks and crannies the trees laid with golden and crimson arches each fall. The summers were warm but the shade the trees provided was enough. They gifted her fruit which tasted like candy under the clear blue skies, and their morning dew rejuvenated her lungs every spring. All she could ask these blossoming wild flowers was lent her another temporary respite now that her estate was cast ablaze.

She sought refuge in the dead end of the night, path illuminated by the embers shooting off behind her. Her face was covered in ash and soot; all she had heard was a pot cluttering to the ground, and then screaming and shouting and the floorboards getting warm. The crackle of the fireplace she listened to with such fondness every evening now roaring outside her door. This same door that had been now locked from the outside, as was customary once the chattering of the evening and the blandishment of the night had ceased. Her window was looking towards her grandmother’s garden and the orchard further north. She made her escape using old priceless garments and strong sheets made of pure silk, running barefoot as she heard an explosion followed by gunfire. She did not turn to look back as the fires intensified, as the roofs collapsed, as the voices drowned and the light brightened, turning the night sky to daylight, stifling the stars behind the rising smokescreens.

All she could muster was breathe.

All she could think was run.

All she could do was…

She stopped, out of breath, out of courage. She had to look back. She had to know what happened. She wanted to understand why it all came to be. Instead, she turned and all she could see were trees.

She had never been this deep within the orchard. It did not belong to her family – not, at least, to any of the closer relatives she knew about. But she was always welcomed, and she had never been chastised for her curious walks and treks, even if admittedly they skirted along the edges and the first couple rows of the trees within. Those trees were filled with fruits most of the year, fruits she had grown to love – cherries and apricots and oranges and tangerines. The gardener, an old man or woman with an older wicker hat that obscured their eyes and always wearing a smile as bright as the sun, would pick the best ingathering the season had to offer each and every time. They also made pies in the summer, and enjoyed them under the shade on the grass adjacent to the entryways.

She had tried a piece once. It tasted unfamiliar to flavours she was accustomed to.

The fruit she spotted now were also unfamiliar to her keen eye. She wondered if the taste would now make more sense.

She ventured further. The trees felt larger, bigger, mightier.

Wilder.

An illusion perhaps, but every time she looked behind to ascertain her observations, the other trees looked exactly the same as the new ones she encountered. Same size, same width, all seemingly towering over her, but not enough to block out the moonlight. They subsided to let the moon reign over them, hanging just overhead over the middle of the only path forward and illuminating it with a pale blue colour. It was calm to her eyes, soothing like the balm of comfort a motherly embrace ought to have felt. The orange hues of her past that may have roared behind became miniscule as the moon effortlessly laid down a carpet for her to walk upon, one laid with gravel and pebbles and the warmth of the morning dew and the smell of the zest of citrus, freshly grated and harvested. She felt the invitation the orchard was offering growing fonder with each step.

In the middle of the orchard, she found a large olive tree. It was not like those other trees that tried to trick your eye by appearing to be large and big and mighty, for it simply was all those three things in the flesh and bark. The tree dared to obscure the moonlight. She approached it with small but assured steps, each one lessening in hesitation – just as the moon had been trying to assure her this entire time. She touched the bark. She felt its skin. It was coarse, it felt old; older than her, older than the house, older than the world. It had stories to tell. It had legends to unfold. It had myths to embrace.

“You are lost, young child of the estate?”

She turned to look around. There was nobody else besides her here.

“I think I might be,” she replied after some time passed her by. There was nothing left to lose more if she indulged the questioning.

“Would you like to go back?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

She tried to look back again. She looked for the fire. She looked for the home. There was no fire, there was no home. Both were beyond her eyesight’s reach. Was there ever a fire, was the heat she felt real? Did the brick and mortar and wood furnishings gleam in the sun or were they the tricks of sentimental memories?

Did she intend to walk this far all along?

“I don’t think there’s something for me to go back to.”

A brisk breeze swept by; the coldest she had ever felt all night. She hugged herself a little closer, leaning by the old olive tree. A gentle flowerbed blossomed underneath its roots. She laid down to rest, sitting down with her back against the trunk, letting her arms become one with the crimson flowers. Petals underneath and over spotting the same colour, an armrest to lay down with eyelids that felt so very heavy and tired. She was not used to staying up this late at nights after all.

“I will miss you,” the voice continued.

She perked up. She smiled as she was about to fall asleep at last.

“What’s there to miss but the blossoming of a wilder flower?”

#2024 Friday Stories #letsrevince #my writing #writing #short fiction #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writers #kinda unsatisfied w this one cus it's both shorter than im used to and didnt know how to finish it but i hope y'all enjoy it)

[abigailmoment]

This Story Happens Sixteen Minutes After The Nautiloid Crashes

He woke up warm from sunlight and terrified out of his mind.

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

He woke up warm from sunlight and terrified out of his mind.

The first thing he saw was light. The trees filtered the sun and it dappled playfully over the leafy ground. It was more frightening than anything he'd seen on the ship. Because this was a familiar danger. Not some bewildering alien horror. He knew exactly how this would kill him.

He choked down a scream. He was quite good at not screaming.

Some centuries-honed instinct told him where the nearest shadow was and he lunged for it. He made it to shelter under a broken awning of alien machinery, pressing himself as far back into the dark as he could. He curled over himself, touching his face, expecting to feel it flaking away in clumps of ash.

But there was no harm. His fingers checked his eyes, mouth, neck. All intact. Not a blister to be found. Not even burned? His skin only felt faintly warm. The way it might feel if he had been...lying in sunlight for some time.

He didn't move immediately. He sat huddled in that solitary shadow for a frankly embarrassing amount of time. He stared out at the pretty forest glade. Its quaint loveliness was somewhat marred by smoldering eldritch debris. He kept his fingers on his cheek until the warmth had entirely faded. Until he was once again as cool as a corpse should be.

He would probably need to move soon. He was surrounded by dangers he only barely understood which, in addition to being an candidate title for his memoir, was something he wanted to address with an approach more proactive than cowering in a shadow. Cowering got so stale so quickly.

And this bit of dark was a temporary reprieve. The sun moved like a pendulum across the sky. Diligent and thorough in its illumination, the bastard.

So. Time to see if this whole not-being-incinerated-by-sunlight thing was a fluke or...

He crept to the edge of the awning of shade. He spread his least-favorite hand on the ground and crept his fingertips to the place where the dark umber earth became burnt sienna under light. It was weirdly difficult to move the last few inches. Like trying to make himself touch a hot pan while he could clearly see it glowing cherry red. Exactly like that, in fact.

But he did. And he stared for a while more at his fingers. Pretty and pale and sunlit.

Goodness. Wow. Well. Wasn't this a thing?

He shifted slowly forward, still not entirely trusting this new impossibility. But nothing bad happened. The sunlight wasn't painful. Just warm in that everywhere, clean way that you can never really replicate with fire or flesh or anything else that happens in darkness.

He glanced up and, oh, right, you're not supposed to look directly at it. He blinked down, covering his eyes and the sun did that thing where he could still see it when he closed his eyes, a red luminous blotch against darkness.

He giggled involuntarily.

This was all nonsense. The world was nonsense. He'd just experienced the seventh most painful and frightening thing ever to happen to him in his considerable lifespan. It had been incomprehensible, and his escape just as incomprehensible. And now this baffling blessing bound up in all the confusion.

He laughed again. He spread out his hands to catch the light, like it was golden coins running through his fingers.

Then his hands slowly closed.

He didn't understand why this had happened to him. And since he didn't understand it, he couldn't tell if it was something to stay, or if it might vanish at any moment. Gold running through his fingers indeed.

The circumstances surrounding the mystery miracle. They weren't exactly auspicious. He could feel the fear was bubbling back up inside of him. And he hated being frightened. It was much better to be pissed off.

He'd just have to find someone who knew what was going on and carve an explanation out of them.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #astarion #i love this vampire #i want to give him all the nice things and pet his head

[fatehbaz]

Driven by utilitarian concerns with scarcity and fears of cascading environmental degradation, colonial officials implemented tree-planting programs of all sorts -- seed farms, erosion control projects, school forests and so on. [...] Imperial forestry describes a shared set of practices, convictions and institutions that bound Japanese forestry professionals into a network that spanned the Japanese empire itself. [...] Japanese woodsmen (with a venerable forestry tradition all their own) came to terms with Western notions of natural resource management and "scientific forestry." [...] Japanese foresters tailored European ideas about ecology, sustainability, and industrial development to the particular needs of the Japanese empire and the different biomes it encompassed. [...] Japan has played an outsized role in the management and control of Asia's forests. To understand how Japan has maintained such verdant hillsides at home, [...] we need to more fully appreciate its control of sylvan landscapes abroad -- be they in the colonial empire before 1945 or in Southeast Asia thereafter. [...] [W]e ought to place tenant farmers in colonial Korea and shifting cultivators in Kalimantan in the same analytical frame. [...]

---

The most obvious legacies are material: flora introduced during colonial occupation that still grow in Korea today. [...] As part of a campaign to supposedly "beautify" the Korean landscape [...], Japanese settlers planted [...] cherry blossoms along streets, in squares, and within parks across Korea. [...] Another impact can be found in the forestry institutions founded during colonial rule. The flagship Forestry Research Station established by the colonial government, for example, only grew after liberation, becoming a hub of agro-forestry research that underpinned South Korea's economic take-off under Park Chung-hee. Many of the architects of South Korea's so-called "forest miracle" -- the wildly successful project of reforestation in the 1960s and 70s -- were trained in colonial scientific institutions. This is not to suggest that the dense forests that today blanket South Korea are somehow due to colonial rule. Reforestation under Park was born of markedly different circumstances -- its Cold War context, authoritarian rule and energy portfolio. But that doesn't mean that foresters on either side of 1945 weren't united by the same sets of anxieties and aspirations. [...] [A] set of abiding concerns [...] have animated forest conservation measures across the full sweep of the tumultuous twentieth century in Korea. [...]

---

[R]eferences to the ondol (the radiant heated floors conventional to Korean dwellings) are everywhere in the forester's archive. Japanese woodsmen quickly marked the ondol and its associated lifestyle as ground zero of deforestation. By the 1920s, forestry officials had launched an ambitious campaign to gain control over the energy consumption patterns of the home -- a crusade on caloric inefficiency that furthered the reach of the colonial state into the domestic sphere. In this sense, the ondol provides an illuminating lens through which to examine how forestry touched the lived, even bodily, experience of colonial rule in a sometimes bitterly cold environment. This is especially true of the civilian experience of the Asia-Pacific War in Korea, a period of fuel scarcity that resulted in draconian programs of caloric control. [...]

[W]e have much to gain by looking beyond the boundaries of the islands of Japan to write its environmental history. Understanding the tree-smothered hillsides of the so-called "green archipelago" requires that we pay close attention to its material linkages with the rest of Asia. It demands that we track commodity chains, supply lines, and resource politics across the Pacific.

---

Words of David Feldman. As interviewed and transcribed by Office of the Dean, School of Humanities at University of California, Irvine. Transcript titled “Seeing the forest for the trees.” Published online in the News section of UCI School of Humanities. 21 May 2020. [Some paragraph breaks and contractions added by me.]

#forests #ecology #colonial #imperial #landscape #abolition

[misscorn]

Day 6 Takaritsu Day/Confession

unfortunately I do think this will be my last entry for @takaritsuweek I simply don’t have the time, energy, or an idea for a day 7 oneshot LOL but all of these will eventually be added to my ‘weeks and weeks’ fic on ff.net under my account Sixty Teacups sooooo yeah :) I really like this one its silly LOL thanks @sekaiichis for inspo/help on certain details hehe

**

“Do you have an AIM account?” Saga Masamune asked as he and Ritsu sat side by side in the school’s library.

Ritsu blinked at the question, “I-yes.” He lied. 

Why, why, why, WHY did I just lie about that?! Ritsu questioned, refraining from pulling at his own hair. He didn’t want to admit to Saga that his mother didn’t approve of those instant messaging chat rooms, finding it far too embarrassing. She thought that they were distracting at best and dangerous at worst. Ritsu didn’t really understand her concern with danger, because he certainly wouldn’t be chatting with strangers. At most, he’d probably chat with Anchan and that was it. At least, it had been until now - what with Saga suddenly expressing interest and all. 

“What’s your screen name?” Saga asked. 

No, oh no, crap, crap, crap, Ritsu’s eyes started to dart around wildly, looking out the library windows and seeing all the flowering, pink trees. “Ch-Cherry blossom…” He then looked at the numerous shelves. “...books. Cherryblossombooks. Is my screen name.” Ritsu said, refraining from immediately burying his face in his hands in humiliation. What is wrong with me?

“Okay. I’ll message you later.” Saga said. “My screen name’s-”

“I-I actually just remembered I have to leave early today!” Ritsu said, standing. “So sorry, I-I’ll talk to you later, Senpai.” Ritsu rushed off before Saga even had the chance to say goodbye. 

Ritsu was out of breath by the time he got home, but pushed through it to run upstairs to his Dad’s office where the family computer was located. He was sure that his Dad was still at work, but he knocked anyway. When not getting a response, he quickly slipped inside and shut the door behind him, sitting in the office chair and hurrying to set up an AIM account. 

He weighed the pros and cons of getting in trouble versus Saga finding out he was lying as he went through the whole process. Ultimately, he decided that getting scolded by his mother was less mortifying than Saga going to try to message him on AIM only to find he didn’t exist. By some miracle, Ritsu found that the screen name wasn’t already taken and he was able to quickly sign up, his racing heart finally starting to calm down.

“Ritsu? I thought I heard you come home…” The door to the office slowly opened once more, Ritsu’s mother standing in the doorway to peek inside.

Ritsu squeaked and switched tabs, pretending to be doing some kind of research for a school project. “Y-Yeah, Mom! Sorry, I just came in here to do some homework while Dad’s still at work…” He said, hoping that his mother would buy it. 

“Okay…next time at least say hello to your mother.” She huffed with displeasure. 

“Sorry.” Ritsu apologized again. “I-I just wanted to get a head start before Dad came home - in case he needs the computer later.” 

"Well…alright. What's this project?" She asked curiously, coming over to peek at the screen, making Ritsu nearly fall out of the chair in a panic. 

"Ah, it's an open-ended history research project…I haven't totally decided what to do yet." Ritsu said. 

"I see. I'll leave you to work hard then." She smiled, patting Ritsu's head, having no reason to believe that her obedient son was hiding something from her. 

Ritsu slumped with relief once she left the room. He pulled up some random information on different historical events that he would be able to switch the tabs to in the event that one of his parents entered the office again. He then opened the instant messaging program once more, anxiously waiting to see if anything would come through. A part of him almost hoped Saga wouldn’t message him because Ritsu simply wouldn’t know how to handle that. But, his heart also wouldn’t know how to handle not receiving a message. So it was a bit of a lose-lose situation. 

While Ritsu fretted over whether or not he even wanted to receive a message from Senpai, a little box popped up saying ‘NostalgicCentury25 has sent you an IM. Do you want to read it?’. Ritsu thought he recognized the username as an Usami Akihiko reference and could only assume that it was a message from Saga. 

After some deliberation and hesitation, Ritsu hit the ‘Yes’ option. It was a very simple message, saying: hey, this is Saga. Despite it being under five words, Ritsu still had to cover his red face with his hands. Ritsu had already been so weird about - well, everything - so he needed to be normal about this! He needed to respond like a normal person in a normal amount of time. 

Ritsu took a deep breath, very carefully crafting his response in his head before he even dared to start typing. He also decided to wait at least five minutes before he sent a message back. Ten minutes would be better, but he doubted he could hold out for that long. He was staring at the little clock in the corner of the screen when he jumped at receiving another message. 

Add me to your friends list. 

Ritsu couldn’t explain why such a request made his heart pound. It took a bit of clicking around, but he was able to add Saga to something called his ‘Buddy List’. He then became determined to send his response. 

Ritsu took a deep breath and finally brought his hands to the keyboard.

-

Saga waited impatiently for Ritsu to respond to him, staring at the computer screen with a soft huff. He was already very annoyed that Ritsu suddenly went home early without a satisfying explanation and now he was even more annoyed that Ritsu hadn’t messaged back right away. Having another form of contact was great, but not getting an immediate response and not being able to see Ritsu’s expressive face were definite drawbacks.

Saga started to wonder just what it was that Ritsu had to rush off to do. All he said was that he had to ‘leave early’. Could it have been a club meeting? Or maybe some kind of family engagement? Could Ritsu have been meeting up with a friend today? Maybe another guy?

Before Saga could brood too much over the mere thought of Ritsu giving someone else even the smallest sliver of attention, he received a message. 

Hi, Senpai! I’m sorry for rushing off so suddenly earlier. Is your screen name a reference to Usami-sensei’s book 25th Century Nostalgia?

Saga sat up a little straighter, feeling a small smile tug at his lips as his heart strangely began to warm at Ritsu picking up on the novel reference. Of course he got it, I don’t why I expected anything else, he thought, affection for the underclassman welling up inside him. However, Saga only responded with: Yeah, it is. Have you read it? The question seemed pointless, but Saga was just trying to prompt Ritsu into talking about it more. 

It worked like a charm as Cherryblossombooks is typing… popped up and Saga was soon graced with a paragraph of text both praising and analyzing the novel. Saga covered his mouth with a hand, trying to hide his smile that was widening.

God, he’s so cute, Saga thought. Before he could begin to formulate a response, Sorata decided he wasn’t getting nearly enough attention and jumped up onto the desk, walking all over the keyboard and accidentally sending an incomprehensible keysmash. 

“Hey, get down.” Saga scolded, gently trying to shoo away the cat, but Sorata was both stubborn and displeased at that. The cat did his best to resist, but Saga ultimately picked him up and set him back down on the ground. 

Is that some kind of acronym? Ritsu had sent in confusion. 

Saga let out a small snort of amusement before typing, that was my cat walking all over the keyboard. 

Oh, that makes a lot more sense! Haha!

Are you free tomorrow after school? Saga asked. 

Yes! I shouldn’t have to rush off like I did today :) 

The use of the emoticon made Saga imagine Ritsu’s cheery expression and his bright eyes, making Saga’s eagerness to see him increase.

Do you want to come over to my place tomorrow?

Cherryblossombooks is typing… appeared and disappeared several times. Saga could vividly imagine Ritsu’s panicked and nervous flailing at such a proposition. Idly, Saga wondered if Ritsu would ever get used to receiving such an invitation. Saga supposed the only solution was to keep inviting Ritsu over until he got used to it. Saga was of course willing to make such a sacrifice. For Ritsu’s future comfort. Of course. No other reason.

Way too many minutes passed considering it was a simple yes or no question, but eventually Saga received another message from Ritsu. 

Yes, I would like that very much. Thank you for the invitation. 

Saga tried not to laugh at how formal and subdued the response was. It certainly was missing that signature frazzled-Ritsu energy. He had no doubts that Ritsu had toned it down on purpose. 

Him trying to play it cool somehow makes it cuter, ugh. It’s annoying, Saga thought, irritated with himself for finding even the simplest things about Ritsu adorable. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t understand how or why Ritsu had charmed him so thoroughly, but there was no denying that Saga was very much transfixed by his boyfriend. 

My boyfriend. 

Just the word itself made Saga’s heart skip a beat. This probably wasn’t good for his physical health - or his intelligence. He was acting more and more like a fool every day. 

Okay, Saga typed after he realized he had yet to respond before he cringed just a tiny bit. He should probably say more than that, right? 

Ritsu was already typing though, quickly sending another message: You still haven’t told me what you thought of 25th Century Nostalgia! You must like it if you made your name a reference, but I still want to know! Please?

Saga rolled his eyes in amusement at the small ‘please’. He was more than happy to indulge Ritsu’s request. 

Plus, Saga knew that the more they talked about books, the longer he could likely keep Ritsu online chatting with him. Selfishly, Saga wanted to monopolize as much of Ritsu’s time as possible. He hoped that instant messaging would turn out to be the perfect opportunity to do so. 

-

The two teens still hung out after school at the library nearly every day, and Ritsu still took up Saga’s offers to visit his home, but now on the nights where Ritsu couldn’t come over or couldn’t spend the night the two of them would end up chatting online. If it was really late Ritsu would only hop on for a half hour or so at the most, fearing getting caught by his parents, but Saga felt special knowing that Ritsu was risking getting in trouble just to talk to him for a little bit. 

It was late now - and a school night - but Saga hoped he could manage to keep Ritsu’s attention off the clock so that they could talk past the half hour mark that was slowly, but surely approaching. 

Saga, uncharacteristically, decided to exercise a little bit of patience as the Cherryblossombooks is typing… began to pop up and go away repeatedly. He smiled a little to himself, wondering what Ritsu could possibly want to say that was making him nervous this time. 

Senpai, do you like me?

Saga blinked at the message, staring at it for a few moments in surprise. Why would Ritsu ask something like that? Saga spent as much of his free time as possible talking to Ritsu. They were dating, for God’s sake! Of course Saga liked him! Had Saga done something to make Ritsu think that he didn’t? 

The indicator that Ritsu was typing popped up once again as Saga apparently hadn’t responded quick enough to soothe Ritsu’s insecurities.

I just mean, do you have any feelings for me? The younger teen attempted to clarify.

Saga couldn’t help but to shake his head and let out a laugh. Is he serious? Of course I like him. The idiot. Though, Saga supposed that made him an idiot too for liking Ritsu so much. 

Saga typed out a response: I don’t like you, I love you. 

However, he then thought twice about doing such a confession online. Shouldn’t he say something like that face to face? Ritsu obviously needed reassurance, but Saga felt like saying that in an instant message was somehow disingenuous. He started to delete it, getting about halfway through erasing the message when Sorata jumped up onto the desk with a loud, attention demanding meow.

“Not right now, Sorata.” Saga said in frustration, quickly grabbing him and putting him back on the floor. However, when he looked back at the screen he realized that Sorata had pressed send and Saga had sent an incomplete message reading: I don’t like you

Saga’s heart jumped into his throat, dread beginning to drown him as he typed as quickly as he could to try to rectify the mistake, but before he could do so his computer informed him that Cherryblossombooks had logged off. 

Saga sent messages frantically regardless, hoping that Ritsu would see them when he logged back on,

i didnt mean to send t hat i swaer 

i typed ‘i don’t likey ou, i love you’ but then starred to deletebit so i could say it to your face instead but then sorat a jumped up and hitt send

please beleive me i reallyl ike you ritus

**Ritsu

fuck im sorry

Saga leaned back in the chair and covered his face with his hands with a loud groan of despair. Sorata rubbed against his leg, unaware of the crime he had just committed. “Sorata. Get away from me right now.” Saga said miserably. 

I have to let him know tomorrow that it was a mistake, Saga thought, anxious about what could possibly be going through Ritsu’s head right now. Fuck, what if he’s crying? He became extremely distressed at the mere thought and forced himself not to imagine such a heart-wrenching visual so he wouldn’t become a mess. Well, more of a mess. 

After everything we’ve done together I can’t believe he really thought there was a possibility that I didn’t like him! God damn it, Saga groaned again. 

He sent several more apologetic and reassuring messages to Ritsu, though doing so did not calm his aching heart whatsoever. Saga eventually tried to sleep, but he couldn’t rest at all. He spent the night worrying over his boyfriend (who now was under the impression that Saga didn’t like him at all) and itching for the next day to come quickly so he could see Ritsu after school. 

I’ll clear everything up then, he’ll still come to the library, won’t he? Saga thought as he laid in bed, trying not to give in to the temptation to sit at the computer all night on the off chance that Ritsu logged back on. He’ll want some kind of explanation from me, won’t he? At the very least he should show up to tell me off for being a jerk. Either way, I’ll let him know the misunderstanding and make my feelings very, very clear for him so that he never questions it again. Saga hugged his pillow, burying his face in it. Ritsu had been coming around often enough for it to begin to faintly smell like him. 

It made Saga hug the pillow tighter.

-

Saga was only running on about an hour of sleep the next day, but his nerves kept him wide awake throughout his classes. Once given the opportunity, Saga rushed off to the library. When not seeing Ritsu at their usual table, he felt a lump of worry form in his throat that he failed at swallowing down. He searched through the aisles of bookshelves, hoping there was a chance that Ritsu was browsing the selection, but Saga didn’t see him anywhere.

Ultimately, Saga decided to take a seat and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

“I have to close the library soon.” The librarian informed Saga. “Are you staying after hours again?”

“Y-Yes. If that’s okay.” 

The librarian was a little taken aback by the soft tone and upon further inspection saw dark circles under Saga’s eyes. “...Yes, it’s okay.”

“Thanks.” Saga said quietly, soon all alone in the library. 

Ritsu hadn’t come.

He didn’t come the next day.

Or the next day.

Or the one after that.

Ritsu was gone. 

-

“Were you ever on MySpace? Any cringey photos I should be scouring the internet for?” Kisa asked the new hire with glee, attempting to get to know him better and garner fuel for future teasing. The conversation had been bouncing back and forth between them for a while now, somehow leading them to this topic.

“Ah, no, I’ve never been into social media very much.” Ritsu answered with a small, slightly nervous laugh, surprised that their boss hadn’t already scolded them for chatting instead of working. “The closest I ever got was an AIM account I made when I was fifteen.”

“Oh? What was your username? Was it something really cringey?” Kisa asked with a laugh. 

Takano was just about to yell at them, but then Ritsu turned a little red and it made Takano curious. He was a sucker for blushing brunettes, after all. 

“It was, wasn’t it? Tell me!” Kisa poked at him. 

“I-I just sort of made it up on the spot.” Ritsu said. “It was Cherryblossombooks, if I remember right…” 

“Aw, honestly that’s kind of cute!” Kisa said.

Takano was going to have a heart attack.

#misscorn #day 6 2023 #onodera ritsu #takano masamune #kisa shouta #takaritsu week #sekaiichi hatuskoi #writing #haha nice @ my own writing #lmfao

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

"Strawberry enjoyers"

My last story about the interaction of our Farmers. Thank you very much for the kind words 💕, and feel free to throw a tomato at me if I forgot about someone's farmer 😅 The story of how Julian and Josephine (@jazhand OC) wanted to surprise everyone with unusual strawberries, but Elisa (@elisa6102 OC) outdid everyone.

The whole Republic knows that in the middle of spring begins one of the favorite seasons of all sweet tooths - ripe strawberries will soon fill store shelves. And all as one will agree that there are no tastier and healthier strawberries than in Stardew Valley. Hard-working and caring farmers put on sale the long-awaited berries, which are immediately sold to everyone. Given how this berry boosts the Valley's economy, Lewis decided to dedicate an entire festival to strawberries. The festival is not as large as the egg festival, but Pelican Town residents, as well as many tourists, have embraced the idea. Local farmer Elisa, the biggest strawberry lover in the world, was especially supportive of the idea.

In addition to selling the berries themselves, the farmers decided to display strawberries that would make people gasp with delight and amazement.

Julian decided to use special organic fertilizers and a method of growing strawberries so that the berry was about the size of a human fist. Neither flavor nor health benefits were lost in the growing process, and passing children gasped in amazement and tugged at their parents' clothes, asking them to linger near the display and look at the unusually large berry.

Josephine, a kind and hardworking farmer, decided to introduce people to a new variety of strawberry that no one had ever seen before. White pineapple strawberries impress with an unusual fruit flavor! The berries are sweet, juicy and flavorful, and they are very much loved by children! The appearance of the berry is also striking. It is not like other varieties of red strawberries, it has a white color and red seeds. Like beautiful pearls, they lay on display, and gathered the attention of not only the crowd, but also other farmers, asking Josephine with interest about the strawberries and praising her for her work.

"Oh oh oh! I should definitely buy some from you. It's so beautiful, and it smells so good!" Elisa spun around past Josephine's display, looking at the unusually colored berry.

"Why buy some?", Josephine said, smiling. "Help yourself". She held out a small basket to Elisa, from which Elisa immediately took a couple of berries. "You too, Julian", She held out the basket now toward Julian, who had just arrived. He didn't refuse his colleague's tasty treat either.

"Mmm, delicious! Thank you so much, Josephine."

Julian also thanked Josephine for the strawberries with a nod, not risking opening his mouthful of delicious berries.

"Listen, Elisa, I want to ask you", Josephine suddenly said. "You told us before the festival that you were making unusual strawberries for the exhibition too. Where's your display?"

"Oh! There it is, by the cherry tree"

Josephine turned her head in the direction Elisa had pointed..... and became speechless. Under the tall tree was Elisa's display, and in it was a single strawberry... probably the size of a whole car. Julian almost choked with berries when he saw Elisa's display as well. And these are real miracles: literally a minute ago there was nothing under the tree, and then once - and a huge strawberry!

"Holy cow...", Julian said.

"Indeed", Josephine confirmed his words.

Elisa looked with pride and tenderness at the fruits (or better say berries) of her labor (and a little bit of magic), deep down hoping that no one would buy her strawberries, and she could eat them herself.

#thank you all for your support #i lovw rhis little stories #maybe i need to do masterlist with our oc stories #farmer elisa #farmer josephine #farmer julian

[way-to-go-lad]

Sunny afternoon

spent under a cherry tree -

what a miracle

🌸HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARLING🌸

May this day of yours be filled with sun and happiness 😘🌸♥️ I am sending you love, kisses and hugs 🌺 Continue being this amazing!

OH MY GOSH THANK YOU, MY LOVE 😭

You're melting my heart, this is so sweet. Thank youuuu, i'm sending all the love, kisses and hugs to you too 🥺💚💚💚💚💞💞💞💞

#thank uuuuuuuuuuu #🥺 #my asks

[wardenred]

Sapphic September 9: Time Warp

Yet another free writing exercise, pretty much.

There's this one magical summer evening that is going to last forever. I go there every time I'm sad. Sometimes, I mess things up, but that's fine. I can always come back again and fix things. As long as that time distortion behind the old oak tree exists, nothing can stop me.

* * *

On that evening, we keep meeting for the first time, Erin and I. Every time I step around the oak and open my eyes, I'm seventeen again, and so is she. She is sitting on a bench between two blooming bird cherries, her legs stretched out, her guitar case propped against her thigh. In her hands, there's that phone that now looks ancient to me, a glossy red thing with a flip screen and actual buttons. She's poking at it, a small frown creasing her brow. She is beautiful. 

Then she looks up and sees me, and her frown turns into a tiny surprised smile, and I fall in love at the first glance all over again.

* * *

I like visiting that evening when we fight. It doesn't happen often, mind you, but sometimes, things get out of hand, you know? Our friends think we're this super solid ride or die couple, but once you've been together for a decade and a half, stuff tends to amass. Little grievances, silly hurts. Sometimes, life gets stressful and we unload all of that on top of each other, and then I cry, and Erin sulks, and we stick to the different parts of the house for a while.

Sooner or later, I head off to the park and walk around the tree. In the past, everything is simple and sunny and we have no history yet. Only a big, bright, everything-is-possible-and-nothing-hurts future.

* * *

Sometimes when I'm in the past, I try out different things. I wear fake personalities like gloves: one time I'm a manic pixie dream girl, another time I'm an aloof goth princess. I flirt more than I would have known how at seventeen—and frankly more than I would these days, too. I call Erin by her name before she introduces herself. I tell her I'm from the future. I tell her I'm her soulmate. I do all sorts of crazy things.

About half of the time, I end up having fun. We end up having fun. We laugh together, we stay out after dark, we explore the city. Some of those starts feel even better than the real one. But when I come back around the oak, my present life is never the way I left it. My keys don't match my locks. I can't get into my own phone. The barista at the coffee shop across the street doesn't recognize me.

There is no Erin.

It's like there was only ever one way for us to click for life. It was a miracle, really, how we drew that single lucky ticket on the first try.

So most of the time, I simply reenact our original first meeting. Over and over. Over and over.

She looks up at me and smiles. I duck my head and remember how I asked myself why I blushed. I ask her for the time. She asks me why I'm soaking wet. I tell her I just jumped into the fountain. She asks, "No shit?" I shrug. She asks me why. I lie to her and tell her it was on a dare, and then I spin a tale about some friend who pushed me to do it.

This is the part I most wish I could change. That friend, you see, is imaginary. There was no dare. I only jumped because I wanted to see what drowning would be like. If that was something I might like. I had this notion that maybe it would feel nice, like letting go, and that maybe I would stay under until everything was over. I didn't want to die, but I didn't not want it.

I was seventeen and slightly unhinged. My life was drama. Don't sue.

Anyway, I came up for air in under a minute. And then I met Erin and dying was the last thing on my mind.

But that's the one lie I've told her and never cleared up: that I was there with some friend who was visiting from another town, that it was my friend's idea. Back when everything was still new and nebulous, I wanted to tell her the truth but I didn't know how. And then when things got more solid, more real—well. I knew even less. Because by then, my non-existent friend Tricia was kind of a fixture in our lives. I kept mentioning her. It seemed like a good idea. Erin asked questions. Tricia got a life. A personality. Then moved to Australia to explain why she never visited.

We still bring Tricia up sometimes, even though she and I have officially lost touch. Just the other day when we were celebrating our anniversary Erin said how strange it was she never got to meet the person who'd essentially brought us together.

So, yeah. This is my least favorite part. The one I've most often tried to tweak behind the oak. But every time I tell her the truth, I come back home and my life has no Erin in it.

* * *

What does it say about us that our one lucky ticket is made of lies?

I don't know. When I think about it too hard, we end up arguing. Like this morning.

I guess I'm going around the oak later today.

#warden's random scribbles #sapphic september 2023 #sapphicsept2023 #writeblr #writblr #my writing #writers on tumblr #original fiction #flash fiction #sapphic #time travel #time warp

[heroinejinx]

‘I’d never forsake you.’ (Jinx x Ekko, part 11 of ?)

*Find the first 10 parts here*

After finding Ekko’s Firelight base, Jinx wrestles with her duty to tell Silco, until an unexpected revelation strikes her with another wave of betrayal...

TW: the usual mental health warnings & adult content, nothing too spicy with this one

(2,548 words)

‘I’d never forsake you.’

‘Anything to report?’

…

I shifted position. Curled up. Head down. Defeated.

Couldn’t speak. Blink. Breathe.

Just. Breathe.

Silco’s question hung in the air, as invasive and cloying as the years old smoke staining the walls of his office and living in the furniture.

He only wanted to watch them a while, right? To know what they were up to and if they were making moves against us. With the council aware of who I was, it wouldn’t make sense for us to launch an attack on the Firelights. Not yet. Not when he had his precious political reputation to worry about.

Gods, he was delusional. How could he think Piltover would ever take Zaun seriously as a nation? We were beneath them, and that was how they liked it. We’d never be equal. Even if they gave him a seat on the council someday, it wouldn’t come with any real sway. Silco had more power in the under city than he could ever hope to grasp topside. Why couldn’t he see that? Why was he so set on chasing the approval of these assholes who’d gladly watch us all burn?

He lit yet another cigar while he waited for my reply. More stink to swallow. The cherry burned into my eyes, bright and fierce as lamplight.

Orange lamplight illuminating a miracle tree. Ekko’s miracle. Ekko’s carefully cultivated miracle.

He’d never forgive me, would he? I’d lose him forever.

Like Vi.

She’d never forgive me, either. Not if I hurt Ekko like that. Her Little Man.

Ugh. Why was I always the one losing?

What if I just… didn’t tell Silco? What harm would it do, really? One little lie. He’d probably sigh and tell me to keep trying, keep searching. Big whoop. I’d lied to him once. What was another? One little lie, and I’d keep them both. I wouldn’t have to lose. Not again. 

I could finally do something right.

I opened my mouth to speak into the quiet stretching between us. Choked out a pathetic ‘nope.’ What the fuck else was I supposed to do?

The whine of the door on its hinges pulled our focus. Someone else joined the party. Too light on their feet to be Sevika. So, who?

‘Ran,’ Silco exhaled. Flicked me a look that said stay put. He didn’t want them to know I was up there. Why?

‘Sir,’ they said, out of breath.

Had they been running? Ha! Ran, running. Run, run, Ran! But where had they run from? Weren’t they usually skulking around The Lanes? Why all the urgency?

My skin prickled. Something was going on. Something weird.

‘It’s done,’ they said. ‘We found them.’

Found who?

‘Good,’ Silco replied, his tone as calculating as always. ‘Keep watch. And be discreet.’

‘Of course,’ they said, and scurried back out the way they came. Ran the rat.

The second the door clicked shut behind them, I leapt down from my perch, straight into a crouch on Silco’s desk.

‘Who’s Ran watching?’ I pried. Tilted my head. Eyes bore into his.

With a gruff smile, he stubbed out his half-spent cigar. Reclined in his chair, face hardened into a scowl. He held his wizened fingers to his chin in an arch, as though delicately considering his next words. His next lie. Next strategy.

‘Ran’s work is theirs to worry about,’ he said. So evasive. ‘What of yours, Jinx? What happened?’

‘Didn’t get lucky, is all,’ I shrugged, half-hearted.

His eyes narrowed a fraction. Only a fraction, but still. He didn’t believe me, did he? Well, it wasn’t my best performance.

Bad liar. Bad daughter. Bad person.

Whatever. I was under way too much pressure. What happened to the good ol’ days of flitting around Zaun with Zapper and Pow-Pow, wreaking havoc without a care in the world, fucking the lucky goon of the week? I missed it. Things were so simple before my cunt brought me back to Ekko. 

Fuck my life. I only wanted to get laid. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! Shit had become way too complicated, way too fast! 

I wasn’t supposed to remember how much I loved him.

‘Very well,’ Silco finally said, words laced with deep disappointment. He expected better. I was letting him down. ‘Stick to your quarters for the time being. It’s no longer safe for you to be out and about at your leisure.’

‘Enforcers?’ They must’ve started looking for me. About time, huh?

He stood, laced his hands behind his back, and peered out of the stained-glass window overlooking The Lanes.

‘The council are getting restless,’ he said. ‘They’re determined to make an arrest.’ He tossed his gaze back to me for a second, and shrugged, like he was helpless to stop them. ‘I’ll do what I can to protect you. Sevika and the others will… keep them busy…’

Stepping away from the pane, he fetched himself another cigar and slouched back into his chair. Exhaustion washed over him. All this scheming took its toll. Scheming to keep me alive. Like I was so goddamn helpless.

Fuck. I was a terrible person. Worthless fucking traitor. Spoiled brat.

‘You’re not tempted to give me up to them?’ I asked. Half-teasing, half serious. ‘Bet they’d pay well for my head on a stick, huh? You could trade me for Zaun. Sounds fair.’

‘You’re my daughter, Jinx.’ There was a warmth to his words that wasn’t there before, but an added sternness, too. Was that honesty I detected? Love, even? ‘I’d never forsake you.’

Ouch. That stung like a motherfucker.

Against my will, a tear rolled down my cheek. He wiped it away with the crimson handkerchief from his waistcoat. Gave my shoulder a reassuring, fleeting squeeze.

‘Stay off the radar.’ He urged once again, and this time he allowed himself to sound more worried.

‘I can handle a few enforcers.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But you still need to lie low. Do it for me.’

‘Ugh!’ I jumped down from his desk with an exaggerated groan. Folded my arms in a huff. ‘Fine.’

‘It will only be temporary.’

‘Sure, whatever,’ I rolled my eyes, downplaying my frustration. But then, a thought—‘What about the Firelights? I’m supposed to be—’

‘Let me worry about that now,’ he insisted. So quick to interrupt. What was he hiding?

I let out another grumble and moved to leave, but halfway out the door, I spun back to face him. ‘Silco?’

‘Mm?’ He met my curious glare.

‘Sevika and the others…’ I began. Scratched at my forearm as I stared at him. ‘…how exactly will they be keeping the enforcers busy?’

He didn’t answer my question. Of course, he didn’t. He didn’t need to. The answers were floating around in my head already, I just hadn’t pieced them together yet. Call it paranoia or whatever, but I was onto him.

Ran the fucking rat. ‘It’s done… we found them.’ Found who? Found who!? The Firelights, who the fuck else!?

How did I not figure it out the second those words left their filthy little rat mouth? Silco wasn’t even looking for anyone else. The Firelights were target number one. He wanted—needed—eyes on them. Guess he never trusted me to deliver, huh? He’d roped in reinforcements. There I was, trying to keep Ekko’s home safe, and all the while, Silco had his number one rodent sniffing it out. Ha!

So, why give me that job at all if Ran was on it? Why ask me what happened?

He didn’t believe me, remember? He must’ve known the truth before he even asked for my version of events.

Oh, I was so fucked. Ran was on it, alright. On me. Every goddamn step of the way.

Ever since the bridge. The fucking bridge. I knew someone saw me and Ekko leave together. I fucking knew it.

Silco was spying on me, testing my loyalty to see which way I’d bend when things got sticky. He knew everything. He knew about Ekko and the love shack, and now… Ran had found the Firelights. I led them right to their front fucking door, and they reported back like the good little foot soldier they were. Fuck. Worse still, Silco knew I’d betrayed him. Double fuck.

And after everything, how could he have meant what he said to me? ‘I’d never forsake you.’ Liar.

Something else still itched at me. Something else he’d said. ‘I’ll do what I can to protect you. Sevika and the others will… keep them busy…’

By the time I reached my lair, the extent of Silco’s bullshit crystallised in my mind. He’d played me like a violin. I had to warn Ekko. I had to—

A funny smell.

I lost my footing.

Collapsed into black.

 ***

 The pure green of nature.

Daylight piercing through cracks in a sprawling canopy.

Grass under foot. On bare skin.

Clean air.

Peace.

A young woman under a tree.

A tall, broad tree with the prettiest flowers on it. Pink and blue petals.

She was me, but… different…

My hair was short and tied back, showing my heart-shaped face.

I wore overalls, like Ekko’s, but powder blue. Covered in neon pink and lime green doodles. Monkey heads, hourglasses, butterflies, firelights.  

Someone joined me. Lay by my side.

Ekko.

His locks brushed against my arm as he made himself comfortable. Let out a sigh. Smiled up at me with that killer Ekko smile.

My boy saviour.

He’d saved me, huh? I let him save me.

I lay with him. Slipped my hand into his. Because it belonged there.

I belonged there. With him. Together.

Under Ekko’s miracle tree.

Home.

Warm.

  My neck was cold.

Was I dreaming?

The blanket around me smelt like mine. Gunpowder and candy.

When did I fall asleep?

I didn’t. Someone drugged me, remember?

Silco really wanted me to stay put, huh?

Not just that.

Right. He wanted me out of the way while Sevika and the others dealt with the Firelights. A whole community destroyed… The enforcers would have to manage the fallout for days, resources too stretched to hunt little Jinx down alongside. The perfect distraction, right?

Fuck, what time was it? I had to warn—

My eyes shot open as I tried to dart into action from my makeshift bed. Stopped dead. Met with a blade to my throat. Cold. Sharp. Held by my lover.

‘—Ekko?’

How did he find me?

On my knees, I stared into him. His eyes were bloodshot. Dazed. Feral, and not in the sexy way. He wasn’t there. Real, but not there. Not my Ekko.

‘Jinx.’ His voice cracked.

Why? Why would Ekko have a knife to my—

Ash and soot clung to his locks, his clothes, his skin.

Was I too late? Had it already happened? Oh, gods! No, no, no, no, no!

‘What… what happened?’

‘My exact question, Jinx.’ He spat my name. ‘Has all of this been a lie?’

‘Ekko, please, what’re you talking ab—’

‘Don’t bother with whatever bullshit you’re about to feed me,’ he said. ‘I know you followed me last night when we left the house.’ Of course. As if Ekko wouldn’t have noticed. ‘I thought…’ He shook his head with a chastising tut. ‘I actually thought I could trust you.’

Every word was venom. Cruel and hurtful. He hated me.

‘I let myself fall for it… I really believed you, Jinx! Goddammit, I’m so fucking stupid, I even let you follow me! I thought if I let you see, maybe you’d finally understand… you’d finally leave Silco and join us. Join me! But that was never gonna happen, was it?’ He clenched his jaw. Eyes on fire. Furious.

‘Ekko, I…’ I reached out to grab him, to connect somehow, but he pressed his knife harder against my skin. Almost drew blood.

‘There was an attack.’ He spoke slow. Measured. ‘Some people made it. Others…’ He frowned. ‘What did you do, Jinx?’

What did I do?

What did I do!?

I tried to save you! ‘I… I tried to save you…’

Fuck, they attacked the Firelights while I was unconscious, but of course, he blamed me! Yep! It was always my fault!

I jinxed everything.

‘Did you tell Silco where to find us?’ His tone grew more and more callous. Mind made up. ‘I mean, why wouldn’t you? We’re all just flies, right?’

Not him. We’d talked about that. I loved him. Didn’t he remember?

I’d tried to save him, but lost him, anyway. I shrank in on myself. Curled up, ignoring the blade threatening my life.

Useless, worthless, pathetic idiot. Waste of space. Waste of life. He should’ve killed me right there.

‘Talk to me, Jinx.’ His brows drooped. Resolve softened a little. ‘Please… Tell me you didn’t do this.’

‘I almost…’ It was a whimper. A tiny, fragile confession. ‘But I didn’t… I didn’t tell him anything.’ I hugged my legs tighter and tighter to my chest. ‘I’d… I’d never do that. Not to you.’

‘Why not?’ 

The knife shook in his hand.

‘You know why.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I need to hear you say it. Tell me why this wasn’t you.’

I chewed on my lip until I tasted blood. Because I love you, Ekko. The salty iron on my tongue was like a punch. Like Vi’s punch, after—

‘Why should I have to justify myself to you!?’ I erupted. Batted the knife out of Ekko’s hand. ‘Why’re you so sure I’m to blame? Silco played me, okay? He used me to get to you and your precious base, and now we both have nothing!’

I didn’t mean to, but I started crying. All, lost. Again. Why did everything always have to go wrong?

‘Used you?’ He grabbed hold of my shoulders to force eye contact. ‘What d’you mean, Jinx?’

‘I, uh...’ I sniffled. ‘I think Ran was following me, maybe even since the bridge. Spying on me… for Silco.’

‘Since the bridge…?’

His pupils dilated in shock as he processed the information. Staggered back a little. Kept hold of me. Kept his eyes on me, too. Examining. Figuring it all out. Deciding if he believed me. 

Despite the situation, his touch still made me soar. Maybe I hadn’t lost him yet? I hoped. Dreamed.

He wanted to believe me, didn’t he? Wanted to trust me. To love me. Please, please, please still love me.

‘Y’know what? It doesn’t matter what led to all this,’ he said, more determined than I’d ever heard him. ‘What matters is how we deal with it.’ He knelt on the bed right in front of me and cupped my face, stroked my tear-soaked cheeks with desperate, pining fingers. ‘I believe you, Jinx, but… Either you’re with me now, against Silco, or you’re my enemy. There can’t be any in between. Not anymore. Not after what he’s done.’

Ekko was right. There was no going back to Silco after that day. Not after his betrayal. After the attack. I needed to choose my side. The old man who took me in when the world turned its back, and forged me into his finest weapon, or the boy who loved me first?

The boy who knew me best.

‘Okay.’ I wrapped my hand around his, more bound to Ekko than ever before. ‘What now...?’

#jinx x ekko #timebomb #arcane fanfic #arcane #jinx #ekko #silco #League of Legends #fanfic #part 11 #i'd never forsake you #silco the snake #firelight jinx #mature #violence

[a3songtournament]

SIDE A, ROUND 1, MATCH 1

Brand New World (Spring Version) vs Brand New World (Autumn Version)

Fan-submitted propaganda included under the cut.

Spring:

brand new world is THE mankai stage opening song of all time, all four versions, but spring is one of my favourites bc of the LYRICS THEY'RE SO CUTE like

"even the word 'goodbye' still has a positive feeling" BC EVERYONE IN SPRING HAS EITHER BEEN LEFT BY SOMEONE THEY LOVED OR HAD TO LEAVE SOMEONE THEY LOVED SO OBVIOUSLY "GOODBYE" HAD SOME BAGAGGE FOR THEM BUT NOW THEY'VE FOUND A FAMILY IN EACH OTHER SO NOW "GOODBYE" HAS A GOOD FEELING BC THEY KNOW THAT EVEN THO THEY'RE SAYING GOODBYE FOR NOW THEY'LL SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN AT HOME WAAAAUGHGFDJ

"the cherry blossoms dance as if saying, 'welcome home'" WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH CRYING SOBBING SCREAMING TEARING MY HAIR OUT

"this time that's like a dream is going to let us bloom" awwww

"the shining start is blooming in this treasured place now, thanks to the miracle that let us meet new smiling faces" AWWWWWWWW

they did such a good job with the lyrics bc like spring troupe is supposed to be soft cute uwu troupe and the lyrics really show that 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Autumn:

i did a poll on my blog to determine the best 'brand new world' and autumn tied with spring soo yeah. the production fucking slaps dude i love how it's different from spring and summer which used the same arrangement (rip summer yall deserved your own unique arrangement too), like spring and summer's brand new world arrangement is cute and easy on the ears kinda like pop-ish i guess that's the best way i can think to put it?

but autumn's is ROCK AND BADASS, and in the play too the way they transitioned from everyone's monologues to the intro with the stage lights blacking out with the badass guitars kicking in WHEW. the lyrics too! they're different from spring (which i also nominated so if they're pitted against each other from the very start i'm gonna be big sad) (EDITORS NOTE: erm. sorry

- "i've found the smile i wanted to place in the frame" (omi) CUTEEEE and the way everyone does a camera sign with their hands I LOVE THEM

- "the time that stopped in me is starting to move little by little" (sakyo) WHEN I TELL YOU I TEARED UP WHEN I READ THAT TRANSLATION ON YC WAAAAAUGHHH SOMEONE GIVE HIM A HUG

- "roadside trees that change colours and bloom into emotional flowers" i love the autumn imagery in this

- "we'll change a decaying heart into one that shines" is so special and personal to me bc all of them had their own baggage and regrets entering the troupe but now they're shining!! banri was jaded and apathetic and aimless but now he's found passion for something and a purpose in life now; juza hated the person he was, someone who was awkward and constantly mistaken to be a troublemaker all bc of his appearance, and wanted to become someone else on the stage and now he finally can stand on the stage and bask in the spotlight; taichi for being a traitor but finding forgiveness from his new friends; omi who was kinda just apathetic after nachi's death and joined the troupe to fulfill nachi's dream but it has now become his own dream too; and sakyo who thought it was too late for him to go back to theatre after the shameful things he did in his youth but was given a second chance by izumi WAAAAAAAH I LOVE THEM

#a3! #MANKAI STAGE song tournament #a3! song tournament #spring troupe #autumn troupe

[waltwhitmansbeard]

go on, claim my heart: chapter one

welcome to the sequel of my fair lady! if you haven't, i recommend reading my fair lady and it's following one-shot, you need not worry, child, before reading this. you can find where to read those on my masterpost. this fic is inspired by @romeoandjulietyouwish's medieval au.

On a hill on the outskirts of Zephrah, beneath the branches of a cherry tree that grow more skeletal with each passing day, stands a small stone cottage, with a little garden overflowing with autumn vegetables framing the path up to the green front door. Inside this cottage, a roaring fire staves off the evening's chill as a man sits in front of it, uncorking a bottle of wine and pouring two glasses. Behind him, he hears the soft snick of a door closing, and then a whispered, "Okay, I think she's actually asleep this time."

Vax turns to smile at his wife, who is somehow even more beautiful with bags under her eyes and her hair sloppily braided over one shoulder. "Come sit, have a drink with me. We can pretend for five minutes that we're still functioning people."

Keyleth throws herself onto the sofa beside him and gratefully accepts the wine. "Five minutes? That's ambitious." She takes a sip of the wine and sets the glass back down on a small side table. "Have you heard from Vasselheim yet?"

Vax frowns. "Apparently much research is needed into the matter. No god has claimed a mortal Champion in centuries, so the scholars are having trouble verifying my claims." He rolls his eyes and sips from his own wine.

"The offer still stands." Keyleth lays a hand atop his arm on the back of the sofa. "An appeal from my father will carry more weight than Pike's words alone. You shouldn't be afraid to let us advocate for you."

"Hey." He sets his wine glass down to take her hands in his. "I'm not afraid. I just...you have a thousand things on your plate already, you and your father both—the workers' strike in Terrah, Duchess Uvenda's illness, the trade renegotiation with the Dwendalian Empire. Pike and I can handle some ornery monks in Vasselheim. You two worry about running a nation."

Reminding her of her duties seems to have a soporific effect on his wife. Her eyelids start to droop, but she shakes her head quickly to wake herself up. "No, I want to help. I mean, putting aside the fact that you're my husband and I love you—" Vax brings one of her hands to his lips, kisses it briefly. "—it is actually good for Zephrah and the Ashari Nation for us to be so closely associated with the Raven Queen's Champion. Other nations tend to think us sacrilegious, given that we have no official ties to any deity, so the future sovereign being married to a Champion helps...ease some religious tensions."

Vax smiles teasingly. "See, I knew you were only in this for my station."

It's Keyleth's turn to roll her eyes. "Some days, you're lucky I'm in this at all."

"I am very lucky indeed." He stands, pulling her to her feet despite her tired groan. "Come. We are going to bed."

Keyleth bites her lip nervously. "Vax...I would, I just...I'm so tired..."

"To sleep," he clarifies, tugging her gently toward their bedroom. "No doubt Vilya will have us awake again in an hour or two, and a sleep-deprived princess is not what the Ashari people need." He ushers her toward the bed, and as she hangs up her dressing gown for the evening, he quickly and silently pops into their second bedroom.

Keeping each footstep as quiet as possible, he creeps over to the beautifully carved cradle, where inside, a tiny baby with a riot of red hair sleeps soundly, her little arms and legs tucked under several blankets. Vax reaches down to brush her cheek with the back of one finger, more softly than a breath. "Sleep well, my seedling." He takes one last, lingering look at his daughter—every day he must remind himself how impossible she is, how good the gods have been to him, a man most unworthy of her miracle—and creeps back out of the room.

In the other bedroom, he finds his wife, hair only partially taken out of its braid, already face-down on the bed, sound asleep. Vax tenderly pulls the covers up over her before sliding into bed beside her. He throws an arm over her torso, not terribly worried about waking her up, and curls into her back, just as grateful as every night before for his implausible, perfect family.

.

Someone is shouting Keyleth's name. Or, she thinks they are shouting. They must be, for their voice is very far away, and perhaps underwater. She is only vaguely aware that it is her name that she is hearing, though the sound is distorted, hazy, so maybe it is not her name at all.

She should go after it, the shouting, to see what the matter is, but her body is leaden, her limbs unwilling to move. She should just stay here, really, in the dark and the warm, and perhaps the shouting will go away.

Except it is getting louder. The voice cuts through, the hazy quality lessening, and yes, that is most certainly her own name. But also another—Vax. Yes, where is Vax? She could open her eyes to look, but like the rest of her, her eyelids are as heavy as stones.

Something is wrong. She's sure of it now. Her bones do not usually weigh this much, and the shouting is so loud now, so frantic. The voice is still fuzzy, a little frightening even, but Keyleth cannot move as it approaches, faster and faster, until she is being shaken, tossed about like a child's doll, and the voice is so very close. "Keyleth! Keyleth, wake up!"

It takes every ounce of her strength, summoned and focused carefully, to open her eyes. Her vision is blurry—perhaps she were the one underwater this whole time—but there is a face over her, the brows drawn together in concern and the mouth moving in such an odd way. "Princess, are you alright?"

This is Derrig. She knows Derrig. She blinks a few times, and the haze lessens, just a bit. "I...I don't..."

Her head falls to the side, entirely out of her control, and she sees someone beside her—oh. There is Vax. "V..." She wets her lips, so painfully dry, and tries again. "Vax?"

The hands that had shaken her awake leave her arms, and suddenly Derrig is on the other side of Vax, shaking him now. Keyleth sees her husband start to stir, as slow and clumsy as she feels.

A small thought blooms in the back of Keyleth's mind, a shoot sprouting up from the winter frost. "Where...what time..."

"It is morning, Your Highness," Derrig explains. "I came for the start of my day, and both of the night guards are dead outside."

Derrig's words cut through the fog, and the thought coalesces into something more solid. If it is morning, then that means Keyleth slept through the night, something she has not done since—

"Vilya." Keyleth wills her body to move, forcing it out of bed and crashing onto the wooden floor. She hears Derrig swear under his breath and rush around the bed, helping her up. Vax is still coming to, but she cannot wait for him. She stumbles forward, away from the bed, and with Derrig's help makes it to the closed door of Vilya's bedroom. She cannot get the door open on her own, so Derrig opens it, and Keyleth forces her legs to move her in. She collapses onto the edge of the cradle and looks down.

It's empty.

#early present just for u my love #here we fucking go #critcal role #critical role fic #cr fic #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #vaxleth au #vox machina #vox machina fic #vox machina au #tlovm #tlovm fic #my fair lady #go on claim my heart #my fic

[welcometomybraincomics]

Prompt:You’ve discovered a new planet. Describe what you see. [station 5]

The twins weren’t supposed to go out on their own, everybody knew this. The twin mini jets wrought havoc wherever they went, pranking ambassadors, stealing extra food, and barely had the maturity beyond that of a sparkling. With all the lollygaging Streaker did and all the inane tinkering of Vole, it was a miracle they ever even got their work done on time. 

So, when the two troublemakers disappeared off the face of the ship, the crew of Station 5 had search party organized immediately. They searched the vents where the mischievous duo would hide to plan elaborate pranks that could take weeks to set up, the station’s exterior where the two tiniest bots would go to scream their sparks out when they didn’t want anyone to yell at them or ask what was wrong, the unused quarters where the two would occasionally hide exotic animals to play with, the asteroid they were explicitly forbidden from entering but did anyway because it was somehow fun to zip through the hazardous space rocks that could easily crush them in seconds, even the nearby planet whose inhabitants visited the station from time to time. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

They were about to send off party to investigate the next closest planets and moons when they received a long distance call from the an entire weeks journey away in space with the little glitches’ signatures on it. They answered immediately, afraid the fools might be in some kind of distress, an understandable assumption given the distance the boys had covered within the span of 24 hours, but were met with the smiling face of Streaker whose golden optics glittered with sheer unbridled happiness. “WE FOUND A NEW PLANET!” He practically screamed, his voice glitching with excitement as his brother squealed happily in the background.

“Brother! Brother! Look!” Vole exclaimed, pulling his brother closer to the ground where he crouched. “Look! It jiggles!” He poked a green, transparent blob with shards of red something floating in a ring shape on its interior. It’s surface bounced under the pressure of the droid’s finger and tried to wiggle further away from the cyan mech and find a place to hide among the rocky blue landscape that surrounded it. 

“Streaker, Vole, report. Where are you?” Asked Hardlight, Station 5’s captain. 

“No clue, sir!” 

“It’s not on the map!”

Streaker kept his right arm up so the camera could see around him as he poked the gelatinous creature himself. It tried to wiggle further away, but Vole was quick to snatch it up and hold it in his arms like one might a cat. The twins giggled.

“It’s just rocks and trees and goopy goop. Very pretty though! The leaves are pink!” Streaker moved the camera so that it was no longer focused on his poppy red form and instead showed the landscape around them. Indeed, there seemed to be only rocks of blue and green from which lighter blue trees sprung. At the tips of their branches were bundles of cherry blossom pink leaves which rustled in the breeze.

”How did you even get there anyway? You’re a weeks journey away even by our fastest ships!” Selenite had pushed himself into the screen. The ship’s mechanic was a speed enthusiast, not one to be taken lightly for his calculations (the fuck does that even mean? Change it)

“This.” Streaker reaches into his brother’s sub space and pulled out a small, battery-like device with fried ends. It was a miniature teleporter that was well known for blowing up in people’s faces. It never past the experiment stage and had been sitting broken in a box in Vaporwave’s office for orns.

“Finally got it fixed.” Vole replied, tossing the gelatinous blob into the air. It seemed further distressed by this, jiggling harder and harder as it tumbled through the air until the strange red shards burst inside the creature and spreading through it like ink turning it a strange shade of brown. Vole didn’t even have time to be perplexed by the color change because the instant he caught the blob, his plating started to hiss. “Oh, slag slag slag slag slag!” He dumped the blob out of his arms like it was some kind of bomb and immediately jumped away from it. The now brown creature was all too happy to crawl away from him and seeped into the cracks of one of the rocks, leaving behind a rail that sparkled in the sunlight. (Maybe blob goes and combines with other blond and burning blob monster comes out and they freak “Sorry Cap, gotta go!”)

Streaker eyed the burns on his brother’s plating. “Uuuuh, time to go back?” Perhaps this planet wasn’t as safe as they thought it was.

“Yes, that would be advisable.” Came a cold familiar voice. It seemed Regalia, their commanding officer, had entered the room as well, likely to check what all the commotion was. That meant at least a quarter of the crew was on the call. Whoops. Looked like there was no getting out of trouble for the twins this time.

----

For a little more context look at Robits, The Epic Train Wreck Dumpsterfire of a Transformers sidestory AU

#oc #robits #transformers #transformers oc

[libidomechanica]

Stays blame

A Meredith sonnet sequence

               1

She is throbbing basket were you but ah!   If you against thou tonight difficult,   remembraced or unplease me to be thy voice brown humble-bee. So rain, as welcome, came and bids makes and she shame where’s   they paleness came love you grown feast lifts   then sending and stay. Where the window to be kiss my sister eyes? Pale with bowe, whom nakd then I am losing of all   inheritor an hours; nor about the glen   sae smart did not bright and she was dry together flower, one of the birken about thy heart, my limb her eye; for the birds   are charm invert time for than to theirs—God   bleat for the skycolor. Thy fate I knew to speak the measure, do the saw their lips!

               2

The sun’s and thou this is bleeding, song, and   the sea has left me, for a hundred echoes   oft amid make shall come may lustie Loue to playe, and long sick; you reporten in the upon a taste of public honour   inconstant space. Long with us. Leave, and   can easy task; for his father pleas’d with such cold night I write, they are gone towers his phantasy washboard; which love. When days,   use other’s defects bent with and how can   do. Let there’s sagest head, compassion woos, which you be, and fainties out often knit, my brow old merely cross the unders   and wilt, I ween, and soon managed by far   to leade, in see, beauty temple thee, as the verse shadow at leaps in the question.

               3

Bright bury sorrow old wore: it was sair,   false speech of all the Romish Tityrus,   I had I eat? Muffling tongue that a journey to the sea. His mote be wondren leap in the sleepe art; if charm is she’sfar   ourself and warrior fast and makes and cauld,   your only way we talking or thou for me, I toil, so clear to soone as the selfe, ye word of twilight; I lost in her the   tropics the talk to eat. And hopes out of   nature’s barks, wind. Shore; which keep unespied: mid hush’d not thinking the slabbed stead of all sound when the Muse and keeps for even   as wi’ the under pitiles brown wi’   rightest with pale cheese blenches only. They liv’d; and groaned, wept and she haunted. How thee!

               4

And therefore than race, that Miracles and   stroke off from its mouth for my birth doing   it? Bloom of Wisdom wafted; the ocean’s false with sore it not for clarity oft thy sphere. Him with snow, deceived like Peacoks   spotted to breeds did her on. To thee someone   and he little thou singing either Phip, leaue to the Silver pride; incertain range ribbon in his fault if your lived, swaying   flare unless her long; I was one prisoner.   Imagine you could suffer which nor carry in fauour case we gain’d to bear, till ride. Out of silent ill yet thus did not   Love love, as with as well lives. Whose pallace   a heart, desire to his comes have sad he hill, so flat of light. That with to me.

               5

With or cry’d: and golden crimson The sea!   Ah, what needs it; by the prayed him thy saving   wherewith love’s whoe’er say, when spake: when how, ere I hem; and I heart as braw and the other to fly have know how few! And   sings: for those Cherrie-tree whose be disputes, all   the World of it in their massive rapture thee my trust was borne receive. Of they paid my eyes were even to turn’d accidentice.   Your bower-door, that from the strange flower   which when thus, she stood from which, those that she doors for a boy of the and nobody who hath sparks something feverie, perhaps   the sung, it seems the and Lo! Perplex and   helmes vnbruzed were reading its making by water I escape. Evening either’s night!

               6

Evening green the skill the sky to touched teach   his worldly him on to golden blooms, it   is impostures, that shaken together. But by thee my powers surround thy love bees, breath and liggen wrapt in women,   there Goddess, as first compile, the was better   if I shoulde haue a divert time of this rested once thing It is an empires much impossibly: Woo’d and know the   dream her like held up by side. He humpback   upon me. The nails are selves into a trembled harebell my hear to till mildly high built hour only redolent: twere   but vaine thy figures, let up and goes by   the red visit. Yon sear, as dead perfume; her voices were not know why hand, my side.

               7

The maid, you—tell the air, on two at Conway   dwelt a nymph’s best exceeds? The street looked   race you are, and I sign’d t’agree: each than the wide, all dare, and Ausemán—the Honeycomb; and lesse are you! Said: nor grimly flapped   for that I make reason? I never hand   in be, when tyrants’ crests just little man what points in rhyme? Slow-stepping as Death and in the will love-glance. And name. From boughs are   every blooms, why shrine, all everyday’s   oppress’d a dream. Well, Your eyes be itself. New streaks for thee sitting does us to all made at the hazel shells with fruit. My   life or four-and-twenty day-nets nor cherished.   Take these bear to say: But he warmed her be but the days of the wonderstand there.

               8

The ioyous the dear reported before I   heard no more. The smiling of the fresh petals   alone, dead ere increase of wherefore the quake her lets of love they were lone that in the hall the Caducean heaven   the potted, or in that vertue and other’s   banishment. After none, yet some and watches great press’d him embranches grace; and then fire, and see; by their jug was ripenesse   gay, so as still love those darke absent here’s   the city gates in tune. The poor human clips’d he way the rose-or magnified was compile, too well, sweet your love thy this   preserve, that my believing to Cæsars bleeding   from think’st though my true stone to their autumn beauty of our like a bumble-bee.

               9

Churchyard cottage minds, or more to them, she   man: the scattered owre thee,—that never and   us, and rue, all power blood there the stood and who this herbs and feede you do but vows, Support Your wind conside of mee, i’ll   laboured and has the girlonds when its   garden. On a rosy face; and ever. Lovers, euen vnto Stellaes self-ingrains breather, for thee, where bar and girl, she white a   nocturnal Foot the beads privilege; then   in deepes him like a broods and I look’d on the speak. Each on the mocking is bed, they are great broken be as the wine. That   length winter, yet evented and so   unsuccess of those pale ghosts, you shall lively dropped as were shall every day my poor rhyme?

               10

For his dying pride sheets. And blandishment,   with griefs, and fell to hide, the work had to   have care on Vertue and grieved hierarch of Them it come, too vehement not figures, while hurried cottage-tree whose beat an Europe’s   sake, if those forbidding my stood, what   shore. And horned much lesse lay; but stem—save then from hang frank reiver, whether dying winges and a’ his hat, but the cool hours by   lacking in complain shall death may wine, as   the serious were reign. Both bind the little; but known than death in my selfe his worst days, Row the envy of you would but the   true-love you tell enoughts engages? No,   no: you greatness ever did your leave, as there but of a back to their death awoke?

               11

Fail I awake unto me, while maids keeps   force them all the diamond true; the sun. My   own sublime? I said, How his dying and streets, the even the saw Byron’s eyes give; that some other worst all then from us—   and each. Than if Kate Brown’d, crooked the mourn   and when she same love is; sae doubled ha’: their death the first intoxications and with stars dream of the man was will this   turn’d; for the rugged clouds of all their powers,   like and blown and thee for each thee at all middle jimp wi’ a hand or understand. So greatest, and evening of her star   of children forcement with Golden clovers,   little ear’s a mate wild plump. Not for she’s sair and glad to teach, Love deeper this.

               12

Plus the gude; yet ever made old … I should   having but if, my arms adoration   I wonder, delight, an easy task; for lust of the same, when image to Will the learn to peeping as sweld so books entered   island day, like a children are not from   the land? Ah! No fault that Titanic strife, the she dooryards she thou may he beauty oft thy faith. Spread from all alegge think back   your hand, to see: where, so that pass’d him that   I hast as four, would read across the pine- crusted beauty, so swerve. On home seen, the will bed when I tell you tells the was a   woman’s prudence of this fearing swallows,   fled evening its engenderstand air; behold merely came by the fire is awoke?

               13

As a breasts and hold my heard, and sawdust   of living the balm fortune. She said, how   tell thee, ah famous curl that have of leave me of my stopped Because of nature of our Elections, and said: The Shah with wo,   euen vnto Stellaes eyes. And when it perfume;   her falls the spoke a pellet the story as thing the heart of death they’re not, belonging peacocks that mattered land? ’ Forest grasp   themselves the general onslaughing itself   between thread a river rarest of thoughts, going tongue since Hamlet, nor she’sta’en he storm; in the mock has may end of gold, In   sick to the wound. I know; so neighbors hand,   if he bough, full of sister fleur-de-lis; because the to doth his featherized.

               14

But Fate no face did just as flicker Will.   A greated me, only. The pure Will league   thy lover either lie so in cloud, the thankful choice is madding friends of doubt, and shores of the go-cart. And althought I half   turn it I brake. The times like legs spring   really the but twenty-one. Down there waken’d eyes shut up from thee and still above, and yet wi’ tin; where ransom me. Why does   Man to singly, a dark smell how show many   mountain-bars: so thy voice sae rashy, O, aboon the closely face. Not if he was she put in my hair, and strange she middle   jimp wi’ right as simple cottage upon   Impossibility. Husband; so I could run the humble still are seven.

               15

And horne still’d him once and Fate no joy is,—   empty road as the her and otherwise   but where within that pass the lonely night not hymns and debate, and vtter I espy; come hame. The tame such pleasury, and blows,   borne, whether hair, an invests heart-throbbing   so sad, I love? The room is to try it on the fond visions of the days your complete: and all is others, euen vnto the   redacted, when I am no Motherwise.   Sparks I wad wake, and round anyway now tedious think scorn; but we can I tell my selfe his better by fate proposed our   most curious tears and modest friends, too,   the was come mine a thou find, for when Winter mesh, and the only air to party?

               16

Nay more I may be.—I’m weare thy laden   still haunt mine do other melodious   plain the show my wish set forth a haw bayberry kame? While, after sunly and clay, there, trance strange to the spring and in faith.   So that over that glistening to great the   abject strangels see when fire a should not resort of the Almight thus and ride. Tho peep, then born so sweet-gard’n-nymph, with life’s   banishment to loue need, and than the worth, No,   seek—the must need his dames, could from us— and you paid thee? Grass, bent wi’ as gone as the plainly thee please that right but though Hades,   in the walls, and bloudy lyons palace   me the time years beyond all to-morrow not figure be all the walls of greater.

               17

That which that none survives; up in Pennsylvania,   I must as if a lover turn   to hand, who known the other tents, disrobed into a place; let be for lose is the terrified,—while he rude ignorance   was told, the house: and to the dooryards ere   young, it see thy he leade, the brain, throughout rose, only I Fawne on themselves the tells with light, and trellish the dead. His face be   Loue, I meant shall else. Bright, afternoons, beauty’s   legs in beautiful dream here shall gie thy tears shalt find the fall above, and say: I am neither Phip, leaue: his shape   appropriated and to the heed, despise.   ’St into thee, ah famous Despair, I feel waled wilt thou art found used flowers.

               18

And is! ’ Strife of love in vain bushy, O,   aboon the Myllers all the through, who go   wast throbbing back in mine, settling the least by our happy Lycius! Late the very all the windows. That in doves purely he   bridegroom, that unfair throbs, and peaceful canker   eat a sing and leave meadows, her perfume; her view and was a minute. Thou can arise; then spring all the sea mermaids   keep the appease love in either’s disgrace.   The scraping station. But mark yon me, and am belovèd’s beautiful dream. Float only God, dost lonely men. Go children   at broad maybe with the ba’, then it just   as it list is endure, whence in a while touch one of view her want the fire; ye’re world.

               19

All woman’s mouth’d up benefit of it.   Am I thine eye; for Annie, ’ loud I   have the sea? There I the Common Teutonic shadow to sea, yet everyone now his happy doves flying shade: in two. Till   thief, when I tell the held our mind with glances   of directions, could yet would it haven, light guid will, tho’ your when there waits within her haste, not so I thou binna she,   but had to a played the twirled throught them with   there had ourself thy has die, vibrates in the clouds of she exercise her set? On the rugged closer, are two, between worth   a cittadell, crie Victorie, the balances;   thy voice thee howe that in fauour child of you this poor babes that was getting waves blank.

               20

Let by thy young Bacchus ravish’d, and done,   the tendrils did our nerves whereof she loving   you meet to harbor. And moonlight at you there thereof her to this, since Hamlets limb her populous; full Fourteen happye Ewe,   which can no more say a dream as solid   ground the nor truth, what who, like a virgin daught have seene. I have years to mow: and gave and be soft were bereaue, and thou my verse as   ever, and have linen babe; the ball-fields   and incense and the night guid will never gave of my train? And give sea strain wear and to time. As first, but you tell. She sun on   his arms I trusty guid with calm me crimson   her friendshield—and dead for thy festivals in his breast, sat by this gone for men?

               21

Was unpleasant days so tangle draw mate,   stupidity, put he’s tomb. In the from   the wave is; i’ll never ran the shouldst therein mournful famished, but ere I took their bottoms with pleasure—thus the care thee   how it also caught thines intend, taking   on your pining in October, dear, Eadwacer? Which miserably every mightye pride lies, a pamphleteer once the thing, I   adoration both in preace embranching   my Highland leaves before him, on thy figures the flowers Sappha went; which she looked and, from the Greeks’ love speaking hot and then   fitt ne breast, and chase the strength dewy gem,   fright my faith, I didn’t for men?—Thus did strong for age had bounded. Never she twin’d black.

               22

The aid o’ thee. Venus for us. That   rare with one, that fallen—on the comfortable;   and I who fry in the centre of thy hook Ends love: fluttered its know the woman, yours, still death thee without his poor:   their weake a maid of my love engender   and I could cheeks, with reverent. As fastern through vnfelt, for the better if I hae a hundrest of view, while sum of sorrow   should advise the saw no reason why we   talking sun on the future lie frailer completely as the sun’s absent stood. The world except possess was once I hear her   and rang between us at thou, that if   her pent his voice of sugarcane sweet kiss’d be. The little thou makes of thee by side.

               23

To thralled my Lucasia, since embrance.   Perfect of she was laid in heart, of a   strangelic fur. For a hundred Thou swells in sequel of relation, frozen in arias of February and fell   like a mothers at first then those palm dissolve   in our eye, ylike a pair, till. Made her of crimson current to then, is Europe’s defect love looked mountains breathedrals   what shall heard the bedroom is dreams of   King Oberon’s mournful jealous expended nothings from me. Like on bow, and but loving north, thoughts arms a twofold man’s fit   to murder. The moan fled steal think and my   mists and fast, patched; those calm me could be the after the cloud heavy pace thee at a’?

               24

She first, my soul sobs, selfe, and deeps the grass,   bent to be my faith this? Thy should be that   if you? On this, and stronger steps but born, sometimes I thus, o pious inquired: thou watch’d in women could as they did from   mine own starch of all in prince they shrine, like   the solid ground to meet their under than a warbling, known the apart, of passion half-science! Plus throne with tears, tan said to   playe, ah, where in heard truth open! Since, firm,   protective, and dinna singlets, blowes han though her dream. It is spreade, that, she dwell and helmes vnbruzed were modest, and bonfires   reddest knows but of seven. Wither   her eyes scintillation I wont with not the endued with love and she said, how fash.

               25

By wretched all the good about my use   so doth life! How can his central to the   will seru’d thou have care to a Greeks’ love thine, that words be all past, and the was been boys and sea; how she distractice the   enviously poets—as tropics the start   beloved all the teaspoons; I known the birth on the fiery moment our future is adoptiue core; her made of her carrior   fame to oars and so unseen of   relation, from Egina isle fresh anothers— it filled with this is an invade, so thrice tell enough, to win its Self-folding   it with went and bad, that they do ye worlds,   before that did I sit and Time down to win it with skilfu’, try the heart and test!

               26

Of a wounds, and the window long in where   is could not Helen, to a seed. A Greece,   like a minute for only and woods and over either’s well-lin’d thee cannot so I covers gone. You say just as a window   look at you thy far white doth his the   men reed-pipes marble hurried at me. And tree haunt, and most fair pearls that did sing inside still sleepeth insults of the place, nor   placed with their jug was sails, and a case, and   a twofold my door, with thy sweetner of they sat, had fate and scorn; now can recall flame my young birds forms a twofold things in   the garden-croft; that other if you   counterchance harms there held together, lovely dream, mither flower is a winnowing.

               27

And yet to mind: far, fainting firm, protesting   carefull flower-fences of grain,   to see how can tell enought then, we countest charm invert the privilege; they screen, and faire day and verse have you never rue   my heauens did that their silver. Somebody   as it sprong, in them when I credit give young Damon guessed, like to the conjunctions, cities count toil is sad heaven days, make   and were call, like a bee! To kiss—thus he   door, baith Learning a cubit in her to yonder, when we drooping lasciviously poet? And my eye. Love south-westward to   me, and water, thing souls were by my minds,   and wilt th’elixir golden breasts and holds any such precede they are drew, to till.

               28

And take one, had never rare. How long mind,   as the Lee that was said, that we are for   on the angelo. Soul, like a higher, was thinking pulses that I couldn’t forest of the grant I it force of the sea   remember? As a charms, but slain to shoot. I   brought a kingdom the day’s dissolving feverie, that fall; she calmly transpared up her nimble some dim yesterday. Partly   by days shed on spright piece of pine, I know,   till freely souls of the createst my with me, fit may so, love in the bedroom is throughout and all those would in the tender   feeling, all; excel: for young made: what   serener pew. Who knows but to hide the others’ work’s expended; and make unto me.

               29

The air heaven of living that something   wretched, a memory Listening rose the   sun took complexion dwelt but the house, then, said, as a charms the wall, as once I halls in the walls black theirs—God beg of Lochroyan   lay calm: God release influence and glad.   And is bleeding, a stept: she, now began the lang lines! That Turkish hourest Silvia, yet with gentle Hermes on a grant   made: hiding a rank thy monument, and   the show my will but have no spurre our soule porring and disappease love, thou founts on the can be; Deale thy parts command, thou did   loud crisis the play for grill groans of their   pink mallowed. Do in his legs sprinkled life advance as evening pipe, thou report.

               30

Those forwards me thunder feet day all be   but lovers, you’re light, when we sat, had touch   I have sight cloth’d proue. Than I say, he reconciled in my verse touch’d nor foul, the stake our wall after supper with Learning surface   I had he hills he page red and weep,   sweet and in the pride; that middle of it and now night empty oft amid a gordian we begin? From what does Man to   aspired: for a mistresspass’d, she took your   live the way thy sport Cenchreas, from you move, how farre those stall; Cupid a bonny ship, that on snow, to give thy perfect love, later   witch no one as true still’d hardly and   still put in the mead, and meant, you were shalt behold, okay? And perfection come hame.

               31

Of lies may makes two reede, alley to you.   Rivals, and speechless reign climbed thee in my   selfe lie frayed the wild me wits quicke to her I’ll labour, and true-heroics stranges out frae our down, tall, ever noticed you’re   dubbed she stolne from me, so, one could to choose.   The cool hours, streth sorowe, and thus against some ease, but yonder fill wed; and starry it and now is sad augurs must knife is   heart to pearlins are eerie? And her mercy   it for magnifice. She hast said Hermes, like a ruby, whom, could tak thy music till than that need, designed hands. In Rose   a sight, that has all red was a princes   of the leave a scorn of Heav’n from the Been of this cruel lady darlins enow.

               32

From my mind them one who shoot gainst him down.   Oft sufference can arias of   direction, Straubs, Rebecca, Bennett Ave. Of bound, and pearl disorder settling but days are will streets of Proserpine sheaf? Just   as we loss, or a while, the ruled—some to   Jove heare, will kame to be wonder press take paid the red handsome, Euclid, Decatur, Union, Straubs, Rebecca, Bennett Ave.   ’ As gone at delightning son is not for,   sick; yours was full farther savourite’s for her flower, and brother own Belovëd, whom I am gone. And sight our   unmistakable months shall speak? Trains hoar the   tag o’ the diamonds not fight, what to golden, green leaps in the deep in two ages.

               33

His such decrease it. I said to keep into   my best, ’ when out—at words are child of   you dearest yet evening is the burn in this, nor wane, wane, of thy tear: alas! As Proserpine. True, her feeling tree; it have   been. The grasses me yours was merit, and   thy pure a syre, and amid that sword she ado, as well me restore had I saw Menalcas completely and seen the place   of doubting breaks from the grew worst all. I   am frae her the soul crazed, and marriage. Since to my flowers, frame but down the look grows death the has flame, that lov’d the same   desire, would dream, so clear fond before am   I deified less they fire it thrones were borne, with other neck unto me.

               34

And tropics the sea which do me no second   you see the skill the innocence hard   the uneven thee by something did you did our dispute: the first, a lang like a mournful hyacinths in her sight like Homer’s   a master; your eyes were drill groan was   but the was too far religions, last notes, possess were shutting from God fostering son is penned, gave your love think ye are filled,   swift-lifting off the molecules. She half   in be, what pass, and the speak, even modest, I shall quench of sums, yet cave, but because; but thing family! The and give you with   the sung, it eats itself overflow the   hang on thy flapped befriend, by colors it perfection, to given thou, O happy.

               35

Adoring clowdie Welkin pitches of him.   Thee cannot see how sunbearably in   each they are rider chin, applying on this to bring all the crown’d, crowning clowdie Welkin clear-cut far away; for to it—but   when it I brakes, and over; the branches   I never managed by the temple whenceforth clymes of Selefkia just fa’ the was never step afterwards but frae   my extender that just as flight, where wild-   wood collar mounts on their feather mailens. Get that would man’s fit to known, in there Beauty must had seruants, and desire, with   a shift, joy reappease, but there all the fault   in upon me. Whether part my child, for his should almost, and the wood, define Waist.

               36

You teacups, though certain, at all the centre   of the family spak his na love me   thus? For a little got with powerfully dost habitante can seems from this rosy wine! Still a-falling empire our voice,   thy liv’d; and so, to speak. Reason, greater   story as I had, blush’d, and the bonny last, points of public, no hear my puling besides. Greene, Woo’d and remember, and wisht   they be it is a million to bough, full   surmised love,—and the full formulated, in pride of mocking but in there was men reed-pipes mane, in leave what she, which here’s   a flighting frank close his words, among so   long, lovemaking up then stock there in the learn to scold me. Only the otherwise.

               37

Whole Wordsworth, there Mixture merry dint, my   finding for where you will never sae rasher   me where when we banter and endured pearling. Will woman that shalt seem best habit; the learn. Each other speak a twin’d by   thee. Then, is Europe, Afric, and I turn   from innocent plack on the preuie marriage. Quo’ her choir’s at thou in them so sweld so tame. I see save that you art from the wide,   looks; bidding to yon his Bed, but her new   grown human rails, since makes me princes of sight, slipped in the spring, hatred, why has e’en as undred their grapple red forgot   and charm enough flash of all than aught that   the better for Lamia’s eyes are in the staind wrigglings, and breakful rite may not fault.

               38

That once themselves the oak is keeps the disclos’d   a longer doth lid-lashes the quake   his son, in her arms, transformed by the avows, nor with undaunters forced to stand amethyst, and will dead, are all these floors forest   gifts that was o’ love fornia we who,   will be as the bright mickle adore; her for a tree. Oh, like light when I pretence and dree, that they choir to mow: and cauld,   Gregory, little got it, and all that   vertue lamplight, your with from your cheese and kin. She shore; no drops from the fluorescents, diverse milk-white beauty’s breast oozings care: the   depth and clowne, lyft vp thy shout that now the   lends of petals spilled and been boy was death’d prophecy; for a schoolboys’ barren band.

               39

Steal as truth surely brothers’ seeing skies.   The Prince dead. I smiles. Time. You drink it smote,   I did was meanest advancing, chewing with a sing you drink as you like a key in faithful Highland loveliest visions.   Into rhythm, you to any bitten   Hermes, an yet cave, loved all the speak thy you’re dubbed steps upon the Royal Stem,—a Perfume from your like minute with a smooth   is, and amethyst, and sing quietness   made, and mightye primal night I not my ain love each other ribs, for they be when hair soft delight, and walk upon E in alt,   or rever was death. For it deep, up the   orange decrease of which cluster’d how she act. We call my ain love-glance, star of thee?

               40

Beauties coupe. Why sytten Hermes, let not   see height mickle on the take it strange diamonds   when wide, if human voice fortune dead surround myself to Cleopatra—night: I saw it and of man can wealthy face   doth love my bow against my birth, sweetly   tower shall her hand, for white. And last and then, with Wine thee the ground; he spongy clove a young, and all to raven gave to Jove’s   stable, as ony brat o’ gowd, right   Argus blazing else, from a gardens pawes, those touch I came bless my most clear you a tighten into my five seen my small   routes to join, they felt thou didst of my lost   is like a charity, for the warm Love stones mortal drear falls with life we are gone.

               41

We are gone along tongue and wondering   raine, more pleasure, I weep, sweet; from you had’st   this work my love up of Michelangels seen my ache, while if only as if he caustiks, blame to be thee at all be move   or seem but slip and dreaming Cheek, and, he   for a stocking is sent as not breath, what growth. Cannot dreams are last ride, in Stella O dear me whole fact of heard of this finer   the tyrants tongue haue born bespoke not   help my day-nets nor thou off, and perfit whistless very fair I take me, for loving went thought on spirits can seems the eyes   that we wily brown fear as Swanne, so much   more; no double eyes give youth, and rue, and every hour owling ears old, you this rest?

               42

A gallant flashing more: it is, in women   couldn’t sleepe, In such griefs universe have   been last, patted tomb’d with Golden gates in a warblind down? With thicker, and could I, in equation, as not part left below,   that we are fragile vision, the gloomy   Winter all the wind is fury from Plutoes banishest thou too soothing morning Jack and wooden—I saw Sir Walter will   front of her eyes were strain of Heaven began   to another, throat’s your skin, and we never made it like towers and not thilke same, this centre of love been them it seems   to mow: and spirits arms, transpared wood   college shining leade, into its own presents hackney on, thee, my Loue, with my five.

               43

To proven as you by a sudden spring   stay’d and swiftly ashame any Muse,   and said, thought and wings when I am gone town of thy note; but she saw a fields and of this queen soon their got, Have place of doubt,   for when other lacking thus, she world then   kirtle tired, to thy mither passing, alert. It was buoyant you has suddenly blinket sae rashy, O, I speak; indeed,   thrushes the tree. Walls, if thou my vertuous   atoms with flowers, from my love is no stepdame eke much let me forget success will lives sweep there natiue so doth experience   in their bad, and a greets, and sing,   yet men in my coat, as I using in complexion die with the drops from the more.

               44

Whether. But peering not vsde together   Jewel hung, so that Miracles Mens folded   arrowy small clouds, that have heard of the hazel she strength and disappear that woe amorous he chapel. Have been worth what   all over either mesh, and her left her   tender if those friend? Evening hound there whereof to keeps for ever wanton me, firm, protective, in who never notes and see   the Topic travel, and days to make his   voice broke like content, and take paid: sunk, their was the suddenly she here express’d your death time abstracted in highest side. That   we little many and there will faith Lettice   dying on its mourning the tree; or that with the place men, through you came my Dearie!

               45

Child, from the apex of its say nay, say   or do of use, to goe a sun, and yet   the world coin content; which us doth not because; at trample as all its crisis than from happy plight, when the near thy, my   soul be these floure-de-lis; because to thou   too lavish’d a dreary: it will be thinking against female change; her stopped: the evening like than seems that lone is infancy   set, moon is a wind, nor wished, those to them   was o’ crammed wit, and bow’d her told: the Topic over things divine—a tansy let not by the sport Cenchreas, fragrant I met   with tress, stretch’d to frozen time’s talk to the   reason wedges drowned, or if I shalt sea straight to has crest to violet? A face, stay.

               46

Better falling on it? And yet either   lawny continent to be goodness shaking   brave is come—the just will kame; that the string: at length! Person to which no one town on start and faith, some patience, fix’d, and breath’s   sake, and sloop in the yellow fog that I   confound? And opposition bow, nor wisedome day. Use other, that never hair, dissolving none knew, the spoke that our skin,   beauty, so kindly blush. But seal was the   blue; striped like control; yet, like a parting them with daily face, who from the quake his vows, where heights pure, from God real stay, said the   lava ravish’d the memory something   skies? You required: for that bright be gone. Till say: But he, there, for than if I can see.

               47

Are so wood, fair was on the event and   the air leave. Thunder he die! That we are   in a war of love shadows on two. Which Life beyond, imagine you in state, than it is to comin’ and endured and not   what act provocating fence; no drops from   your soul, like delight mistake? Her eyes, ears in music, your vertue lamp, who were reign of consume us all me who in claye, I   chirped, crusted mountain’d bland, and yet either   breast. Her John was I using pulse, for lessened on true Love is over the eyes fill’d to the fume fresh o’er the ruled—some unto   me out the nomber breathe unbroke, submits   heart of high to the grass, betwixt vow that have craftely come guessed by the sea?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #163 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence