#and might be sent on a death quest where they will most likely die | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skzhua · 6 months

Text

We Going For the Win

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female!Reader

Genre: Zombie Apocalypse!AU, fluff, bit of angst. (The Last of Us vibes)

Word Count: 9,982

Warnings: Violence, swearing, mentions of sex/death/killing, drinking. (Not proofread yet!)

Summary: While being in quest of finding your childhood friend you have lost contact with ever since the start of the infection, your ex fling and ex smuggling partner involves you in a difficult situation. New friends and difficulties are waiting for you.

A/N: Might do a part 2 or leave it as it is... I don't know yet.

"Here." the man simply said while dropping the bag on the table in front of you.

He gestured at his men to open the door behind you as a way to inform you this little meeting was over. However, you didn't budge.

Instead, you took the bag to see the content of it, and frowned. "The deal was 10 silvers and a pack of cigarettes."

"No, no. The deal was 10 silvers and a pack of cigarette if you did the job correctly."

"Which I did."

He started to laugh before taking another shot of whiskey. "I asked you to steal the radio and get SKZ's location from them. You only got the radio. Therefore, you only get the cigarettes."

"You're kidding, right?"

He shrugged, fiddling around with his glass. Not answering your question, he poured himself another drink. Before he could bring it to his lips, you took his glass harshly from his grasp and threw it accross the room.

"What the fuck, woman!" he shouted angrily.

"You fucking asked me an impossible task, plus bringing you a most likely broken radio from the restricted area, made me infiltrate a fucking government base to steal infos and you're thanking me with fucking cigarettes." You slamed the bag in front of him, giving him a glare. "The deal included 10 silvers. I want them."

"Sweetheart, you know it doesn't work like this." he chuckled with a smug smile on his face.

You shut your eyes in disgust of the infamous nickname he gave you. "Don't fuck with me, give me the silvers."

He got up from his seat and signaled to his men to shut the door. The already stinky room was filled by the alcohol's odor, making you want to puke. How could this man drink so many shots without being dead already?

He paused a moment, looking at the ground, before he spoke again. "Do you want to find your little friend or not?"

"What does this have to do with this?"

"Y/N, I know you want the silvers to go across the country to find your friend. That is if he isn't infected yet, of course. What I'm saying is, there is a reason I'm not giving you those silvers."

"That's what this is about? About you not losing your best dealer?"

He laughed, again. "At least you know you're the best. Not only that but we have helped each other so much in the last six years. You're like a daughter to me, I'd hate to see something bad happen to you."

You smiled sarcastically. "And yet, you've sent me away to die thousands of times just so I could do the job for you."

"Because you are the best I have." he pointed out again.

You were getting tired of this. Frankly, you just wanted to get the damn silvers and go to bed. However, you knew the man and he wouldn't let you have what you wanted so easily. With that in mind, you seemed to have only but one option to get out of this.

"Alright then. I guess I'm not leaving today." you sighed, standing up from your chair. "I do want one thing if I don't get the money." He stepped closer with a curious look on his face. "I want to know if Changbin ever sends something on this radio."

He smiled. "Done deal." You nodded before heading towards the door. "And Y/N?"

You stopped on your tracks, rolling your eyes. "What?"

"I better see you tomorrow morning, I have another job for you."

Ignoring him, you resumed your way to the exit. Once outside, the sirens couldn't be any louder. In all of places, you had to be at the worst safe haven of the country where only dealers, smugglers, thiefs and many others lived. You were grateful your uncle was renowned enough for the other rebellious groups to leave you alone, but that also meant you had to do all of his work for him. If not, you were dead meat for sure.

When you arrived at your half torn down apartment, you jumped as soon as you walked in, as you were welcomed by an unannounced man sitting on your couch.

"Yeonjun, what the fuck?" you shouted, closing the door behind you. "I told you to not fucking burst into my place randomly like that."

"I know, but I kind of had nowhere else to go."

This was enough said for you to know he got in trouble, again. "Who was it this time? Beomgyu? Taehyun?" you asked while serving yourself a beer, offering one to your former partner.

He took the bottle and drank from it before talking. "Soobin."

You frowned. "I thought he was off to the west zone."

"So we thought, but turns out he had an encounter with SKZ, and he's been taken hostage. We tried to free him, but fucking stupid Beomgyu crashed into a pole and now all of them are taken away."

"And why are you here?"

He rolled his eyes. "To ask you for your help, obviously."

"No, I know that. But why are you not with them?"

"I jumped out of the car before it crashed. Hid until they all left and came here as soon as it was clear."

You shook your head in disbelief. "No matter how much I'm trying to cut you off from my life, you're still going to involve me in your stupid schemes."

"You're quite literally the best fighter, sniper, liar and also the prettiest I know."

You almost choked on your drink from his words. "We're not going to fuck again, Yeonjun. Stop with the flirting."

He held his hands up. "It was just a joke, relax. But for real, I really need your help."

"I don't deal with SKZ."

"They're just another gang, what's the big deal?"

"They're not feared by the whole country for no reason. I support their whole rebellion shit, but they're taking it a bit far."

SKZ were an anonymous group of rebels. When more people were starting to get infected, the government put the country in war mode. They established curfews, safe zones, duties, everything they could have control on anything that you could think of. As the years passed, they started to like this kind of power, meaning they did close to no research on a cure. Groups against the new regime started to form, but the most well-known of them was SKZ. Apparently, they were formed in the south part of the country, the area with the most infected. They ravaged headquarters, gathered information about the virus so their team could study them in order to find a cure. They had great intentions, but anyone on their way would be one of their victims. And that now included your ex-fling and smuggling partner's own gang.

"Y/N, please."

"No, I saved your butt enough times." You walked to your room and he followed you behind, still bombarding you with 'help me', 'this one time', 'please'... "I said no!" you grunted, closing the door on his face.

You dropped on your bed, sore from your morning task. As you were already starting to doze off, a creek from your door did not allow you to go to sleep just yet.

"Yeonjun, go away." you mumbled, eyes still closed.

The man didn't listen and sat next to your laid down body on the bed. "What if I say I can help you find Changbin?"

Your eyes shot open and you stared at Yeonjun. "Don't." you warned.

"Y/N, I swear I'm not kidding. I know where he is."

"How? You barely go outside of the limits."

"Just... Trust me on this one." he spoke softly. "Look, we've had our ups and downs and I understand how unreliable I am to you. There is one thing that I can assure you, and that is I never would mess with you with this. I know how much it means to you."

He took your hand in his and gave you one last pleading look. You were hesitant. You didn't know if you could trust him, but at this point, who could you really trust? Plus, Yeonjun has always been around. Even if he was a pain in the ass, he might be the only recurrent person in your life other than your uncle and his deals.

"If I learn this is a whole fucking joke-"

"I swear it's not!"

"But if it is... you owe me 1000 silvers, a car and your dead body." you smiled.

"So, you're going to help me?" he stared at you in shock.

"Yeah, sure. As if I have anything better to do."

As you were making your way up the ladder, you couldn't ignore the undistinguished noises Yeonjun was making as he was following you closely.

"Can you shut up?" you half-whispered.

"I didn't know you were thinking of leaving during the night. There is a fucking curfew, Y/N. You know what that means? Agents everywhere and going against the law!" he whispered back quite aggressively. "Also, how the fuck do you know the way to the other side from the sewers?"

"Okay, first of all, a curfew means no one's outside. Less chances of getting spotted. Second of all, we've gone against the law so many times, I don't get why you think it's a problem now. And third of all." you stopped climbing and stared down at him. "I've been outside the limits a few times. Now, are we done? Can we just move and get there before it's morning?"

Yeonjun's eyes went wide as he shook his head in yes. "My bad..."

Satisfied, you continued to climb up. When you finally reached the lid of the manhole, you pushed it up carefully, staying alert in case there would be agents on duty close by. Once you made sure it was clear, you pushed the lid so you could get out. You helped out Yeonjun and you both pushed the lid back into its place.

"Alright, so are you sure they went to District 9?" you whispered.

"For the nth time, yes." he said with annoyance.

"How are you so sure?"

"Dude, I heard them loud and clear."

"They might have said this to trick you?"

"Y/N, focus!"

You tried to remember the quickest way to the fences. Agents were everywhere, and what bothered you the most was Yeonjun not being the most careful, as he kept questioning you on why you knew how to get out.

Finally, you reached a part of the fences that surrounded the city. Yeonjun gasped in amazement, much to your discouragement. Sighing, you headed towards the underground tunner that some kids had dug a few days ago.

"Go first."

Nodding, Yeonjun followed your orders. Once he was on the other side, you copied his action and, soon enough, you both had crossed the limits. Once you got to the other side, you could already feel how different it was from the build closed community. The air was much heavier and actual forms of life were rare. There was already an infected who spotted you, who signaled to his other infect friend there was a meal for them.

"Shit." you muttered.

The monster was already running in your direction, and fast. You took a bar of metal that was randomly (and conveniently) lying at your feet, and you ran to it before swinging your weapon to his head, ripping it off its body. The second infected was next to head toward you and you instinctively pierced the bar through it, making it drop on the ground. When you turned back to check on Yeonjun, he could only stare at you with wide eyes and his breath unsteady.

"Now what?" he gulped.

"Follow me." you said, running towards an old building, visibly abandoned.

Only, it was just that. Visibly abandoned. As soon as you turned the corner, you were met with a bunch of men, four of them, masks hiding the bottom half of their faces while pointing guns at you.

"Fuck." Yeonjun said in a low tone while holding his hands up in the air.

"We were waiting for you." one of the men spoke.

"Oh, so them saying they would be in District 9 wasn't a trap?" you sarcastically asked Yeonjun, pettiness overflowing.

"I was convinced they didn't see me." he said in defense.

"We didn't." the man talked again. "But we knew you were there. Now, mind to follow us?"

"Okay, so now y'all are being polite?" Yeonjun scoffed and you kicked his leg. "Fine, let's follow them bluntly, I guess."

The men led you inside the building, holding onto your arms with guns still pointing at you. This was the exact reason you wanted nothing to do with SKZ, they could catch anyone and they were not afraid to use the weapons they had.

After walking endlessly in a hallway, you reached an elevator. You were surprised it was still functional, as most of the things in the infected zones were destroyed. Once the doors shut, one of the men pushed the button to the basement. Of course, it was the basement. You would've thought they'd be more original with where they kept their hostages.

"Are we meeting your big boss?" you asked in a joking tone.

"You're joining your friends." one responded.

When the doors opened, you didn't waste a second to take the gun from the man who was grabbing your arm, twisting it so he would let go. Hitting him on the head, he fell onto the ground. Meanwhile, Yeonjun copied you and also managed to disarm two other men. As for the last one, he held his gun to you.

"Don't waste my time, give me the gun." you said boringly.

He glanced at his friends on the ground, who were massaging their heads from the hits, and they all seemed to be in agreement to just let you be. They knew the others would take care of the both of you, anyway. You took the gun and didn't hesitate to give him a good punch in the face, making him fall next to his friends.

"Let's go." you nodded your head to Yeonjun.

As he was walking by your side, he started rambling again. "That, right there, was fucking awesome! There was a reason why I came to you for help. If it was someone else, I'm sure I'd probably be-"

"Dead? Yeah, well, you'll be if you don't shut up." you whispered loudly.

By the end of the hallway, you could see a large closed door that was seemingly locked. Pretty convinced it was where they detained the others, you made your way to it.

"I guess that's it." you mumbled.

When you reached it, you searched in your bag to see if you had anything that could help you open the door. Noticing you were short in terms of tools, you figured Yeonjun brought something that might be useful.

"Got something?" you asked, but when there was no response, you looked around and Yeonjun was nowhere to be found. "Jun?" you called out.

Just then you were suddenly tackled onto the ground. You met eyes with a young man with freckles.

"You don't look like an SKZ member to me. Who are you?" he asked, restraining you as you tried to push him off.

"Doesn't matter." you managed to breathe out.

"It does to us."

"I guess you'll have to find out another day."

Kicking him in his lower abdomen, you freed yourself and grabbed your knife from you bag. When you were about to throw it to the boy, a hand grabbed your arm, stopping your motion. The stranger twisted your wrist, loosening your grip on the knife. He took it from you and inspected it for a bit.

"Felix, go see if Minho, Jeongin, Hyunjin and Seungmin are fine." he said, his voice low.

The freckled boy, now up onto his feet, nodded and headed to the elevator you were previously coming down from.

"I didn't expect Yeonjun to bring a friend." he said, now talking to you.

He led you to the door you were trying to open not even 2 minutes ago. In contrary of what you thought, it was a simple empty room with a single lamp as its source of light. He threw you to the ground and closed the door behind him. He sighed loudly before walking to you, crouching down to be at your level.

"Now, as my friend asked. Who are you?" You only stared at him, not a sound slipping from your mouth. "Do you know why we took your friends?" No answer. "Why are you here?"

"For no reason, just to enjoy a different environment I guess, just like y'all do."

He didn't expect you to answer this time. "Looks like you don't know much about us, sweetheart."

You cringed at the nickname. Hearing it from someone other than your uncle was odd. Even just hearing it from your uncle was uncomfortable.

"Maybe I don't. Honestly, I don't give a fuck about who you are." You crossed your arms and gave him a bored look.

"Maybe you don't. Still, I think a little introduction can be helpful. I'm Christopher Bang, leader of SKZ." Unfazed, you were still staring at him. "And you are?"

"Tired and annoyed."

He chuckled at your answer. "I like you." He stood up and started to walk back and forth in the room. "I shall contimue then. SKZ is a group of rebels, as people call us, whose purpose is to take down the government's new policy in order to restore some sort of purpose among the population. We're also trying to find a cure for the infection and we, as you might have seen, have many people against us. Your friends were trying to get to our secret base to steal a drug we use during our experiments. They wanted to sell it to make profit off of it."

"Sounds like them." you huffed.

He smiled at your comment. "We've dealt with TXT before, but you're a new one. I've never seen you, I believe."

"Like I said, I literally don't give a fuck about y'all. I just do my thing on my side."

"Then, why are you here?"

"Ask Yeonjun."

Sighing at your lack of engagement in the conversation, he stopped walking around to turn his body to face you. "You took out half of my squad back in the elevator, I want to know who I'm dealing with."

Half? All this time, you thought SZK had hundreds of members around the country. There were eight of them? This new information was surprising, to say the least.

"Sweetheart?" he called out since you were not answering him.

"How-"

You were interrupted when the door opened. When your gaze shifted towards the door to see who had joined, your met eyes with the person you least expected to see. For a moment, you felt as if time had stopped as you exchanged looks.

"Bin?" you breathed out, your heart pounding.

There stood, alive and well, Changbin. "Holy fuck! What are you doing here?" he exclaimed, running to hold you into his arms.

His embrace was warm and felt like home. After so many years, you felt at ease and tears were streaming down your face.

"Where the fuck were you? I searched for you everywhere." you cried out.

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm here now, it's all good."

When you finally let go of him, he turned to Chris, who was clearly confused on what was happening. "Care to explain, Changbin?"

"She's her. She's Y/N."

Holding the ice pack to his head, Minho was mumbling some curses, still sore from your attacks.

"I'm sorry." you said shyly and he nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"So, Y/N." Chris started. "Can we do this interrogation again, please?"

You had moved to a small office, Minho tagging along. With knowing that Changbin was there, you felt more relaxed. However, it didn't stop you from being on your guard. Changbin might be a friend you've been looking for in the past 6 years, but him being part of SKZ changed things a little. You couldn't fully trust those men.

"Sure."

"Good. Who are you?"

"I'm Y/N. Been pretty much alone since everything started. I was a neighbour of Changbin and we grew up together. He was my closest friend. I've been trying to find him ever since the walls have been put up." you said, keeping it honest, but short.

"What I'm getting from this is that you're against the government as well?" he asked and you nodded. "Why were you with TXT?"

"I'm only here because Yeonjun quite literally begged me to help him get his friends. I didn't ask questions, I just wanted the job done."

"There was something in exchange?"

You paused, hesitantly, but nodded. "He said he knew where Changbin was."

From your answer, he got up and walked out of the room, leaving you and Minho alone. You smiled awkwardly at the man, who gave you a glare, still pissed at your previous encounter.

Outside, Chris had joined Changbin and Felix to talk. He didn't know what to do with you, and something was stopping from either releasing you, or finishing you off.

"Changbin." he called out and the man immediately focused his attention on his leader. "You know her. So, what's her deal?"

"I can't know for sure, I haven't seen her in years. She is colder than before, for sure. I doubt she is lying, though, but I can't be certain."

"Okay. What do I do with her? She might be lying and has tried to steal something from us."

"Honestly, Chan, I'd give her the benefit of the doubt." Changbin said.

With that, he went back to the office, encountering a rather uncomfortable silence between you and Minho. He coughed a bit before sitting back in front of you.

"Do you have any reason we should believe you?" Chan asked, continuing the interrogation.

"I'm repeating myself, but I quite don't care about what y'all do, and I am not fond of the authorities either."

"A reason we shouldn't believe you?"

"There are many, but one is that you don't know me."

"Your relationship with Yeonjun?"

"He used to work with me... and sleep with me."

"Have you crossed roads with any infected?"

"Two on our way here. I killed both."

"Did you get bitten?"

"Do you see a mark?

"No..." he trailed off.

This kept going for while, and Chan was strarting to be very precise with his questions, as he was wondering why you were on your own and why were you looking so desperately for Changbin. Until then, you were short with your responses, much to Chan's dislike. After a while, Minho, who had been observing the interraction this whole time, stepped forward to take the seat next to you.

Interrupting the conversation, he grunted in annoyance. "Chan, she seems fine to me. Can you just let her go? We're wasting time here."

"No wait." Chan paused, inspecting your traits. "I have some questions, concerning your skills."

"My skills?" you said, confused. "I think you saw them."

"I just know you knocked out my members, killed two infected, do some stupid deals in the city and fucked Yeonjun." he summed up while giving you a blank stare.

"Fucking is a skill?" you scoffed.

"I'm just repeating what you said, sweetheart. Now, skills?"

"I fight, I kill, I spy, I steal, I negociate and I lie." you listed and your last point seemed to grab Chan's attention. "Also, I don't owe shit to anyone."

"Have you thought of joining a group?"

"I told you, I'm on my own."

"But do you like it this way?"

You thought for a moment. Did you? "Yes."

Chan laughed and shook his head. "You're not so much of a good liar there, sweetheart."

You rolled your eyes. "Let's say I do fine alone but being alone can be rough at times."

Minho whined loudly once more. Not only did he have to listen to this whole pointless conversation, but he had to suffer from the tension happening between you and Chris, and he had to see his leader ask a hundred questions before getting to the point. It was very unlikely him, who would usually not bother talk and kill those who are on his path. With you, however, it seemed more like a game. It might be a fun one when in it, but Minho was done observing.

"He's asking you to join SKZ." Minho spilled out, going straight to the point.

"Thank you, Minho." Chan said, giving his friend a death stare.

Thinking about it, being on SKZ's good sad wasn't too bad of an idea. They are great fighters and took care of their business quickly, from what you've heard. Nonetheless, you still had your friends in mind, who remained detained at the moment. If joining the infamous rebels meant you could get them out, you might be able to help them out, after all.

"What do I have in exchange?" you asked, which took Chan by surprise.

"You would join us?"

You shrugged. "Depends on the offer."

"Of course, you'd ask something in return." Chan shook his head. "What do you want?"

"Release my friends. And give Yeonjun 1k silvers, he needs it. Also, I want to choose my own weapons and I still want to be able to do my uncle's deals. Last thing, I want to talk with Changbin, alone."

Chan looked at you curiously. You didn't ask anything for yourself, except talking with Changbin. For a world nearing its end, you were surprisingly selfless.

"Deal."

Yeonjun came to visit you a few days after. He thanked you a thousand times for what you had done for him but you weren't so happy with how things turned out. While you were close to punching Chan in the face, your friend had been nothing but grateful to the man.

"He really wanted to kill us, you know?"

You rolled your eyes while sharpening the knife you were gifted earlier that day. "I'm literally the one who saved you, but sure. Thank Chan for being such a good person."

Yeonjun frowned, hearing your tone. "You don't sound too fond of him."

"I asked for a moment with Changbin, and he still hasn't allowed me to stay in a room alone with him. It's almost been a week."

"You tend to be impatient-"

"I've waited for six years, Jun." you cut him off, pointing the knife at him. "I am patient, but I have limits."

He lifted his hands up in defense and sighed as you went back to sharpening. The building was so quiet, it was almost sickening. While you thought there would be more action in the group, there was almost nothing to do. Seungmin and Minho were in charge of looking into a cure and the remaining of them were mostly simply guarding the place. As for Chan, he and Changbin were nowhere to be seen.

"Do you know why he joined them?" Yeonjun asked.

"That's exactly what I'm wondering myself."

Just then, Felix walked in the room and took the seat next to Yeonjun, waving at you two. You nodded your head at him and focused back on the blade. Twirling it around, you sighed in boredom.

"Doing some training?" Felix asked.

"No, there's just nothing to do in this shithole." you deadpanned at him. "Weren't you on the lookout?"

"Changbin took over."

You huffed in disbelief. "It's as if Chris is doing everything in his power for me to not meet him."

"He will let you two talk eventually." he assured. "He's still on his guard with you, that's all."

"Sure." you spat out as you got up on your feet.

"What are you doing?" Yeonjun frowned, Felix having the same expression.

"I'm going to talk with Chan." you declared, walking towards the exit.

The boys didn't seem opposed to your idea, so they let you leave, although Felix did look more concerned. You had no idea where Chan could be. The building was so huge, you were barely starting familiarize yourself with the ground level. You soon spotted Hyunjin from afar and didn't waste a moment to run to him.

"Hey, Y/N." he smiled, his eyes almost closing.

"Do you know where Chan is?"

Startled by your lack of courtesy, he nodded his head nonetheless as he pointed to a door nearby.

"Thanks." you said as you left him there.

"He's with Seungmin, just saying." he yelled out but you ignored him.

You stormed into the room and the two men at your sudden entrance. While Seungmin got up with his gun pointing at you, Chan reached his hand out to him as a way to tell him to lower his weapon. You stared at him, unimpressed. He motioned for Seungmin to leave the two of you alone. As the door closed, he invited you to sit with him.

"What is it?"

You looked at him, baffled. "That's it? What is it? I know you know."

He nodded. "Changbin, isn't it?"

"Obviously..."

He shrugged. "What about him?"

"Stop messing with me, Chris." you warned, getting up to lean on the desk to get closer to him.

Sighing heavily, his shoulders dropped in defeat. Without adding another word, he stood up and gestured for you to follow him. You were skeptical of how easy it had been to convince him but didn't say anything about it. If you were just about to get what you wanted, there was no way you'd complain.

Chan made you follow for a good ten minutes. Turning left and right, going up and down the stairs... you were almost scared of getting lost. It was all worth it in the end, though. As soon as he opened the door to the rooftop, you spotted Changbin who wasn't doing much other than playing around with his gun.

"Bin." you called out and the man in question turned around, seemingly taken aback from your presence.

You mouthed a small "thank you" to Chris who answered with a quick nod before leaving, closing the door behind him. You let out a sigh of relief and went to go hug your old friend. As Changbin was still on duty, he returned the embrace coldly as he was watching around the building.

"What are you doing here? I thought Yeonjun was visiting you today." he asked.

"Fuck Yeonjun, I've seen enough of his face. What about you? I've nearly said a word to you since I arrived."

He chuckled, visibly still fond of you. "You haven't changed."

You shrugged, fully knowing you weren't the same person he once knew. "I guess I kept some of my old mannerisms."

He nodded slowly before looking to the view of the city you had. A moment of silence felt both good and torturous. He was right there, just next to you, and you weren't talking still.

"So? How did you get here?" you said, breaking the ice.

"Wow, going straight to the point." he laughed. "I don't know. After the evacuation, I was pretty much on my own. I still have no idea where my family is, if I'm being honest. About five years ago, I had a quibble with Han. It was over some food or whatever, I don't remember. Anyway, I beat him but it was cold that night so he offered to go back to his hideout. And that's when I met Chris. The guy saved our lives, I've never met someone quite like him."

You hummed as he finished. You were as much worried as he was about finding family and such. And that's what he was to you, family. The exact reason why you've been wanting to find him for so long. He was your comfort place, your home. Someone who had been there for you far more than your actual family.

"No." he spoke again. "He actually reminds me of you at times."

Seeing the knowing smile on his face, you cleared your throat as you grew uncomfortable. "So you thought of me..."

"Obviously. You were my closest friend."

Nostalgia hitting you right in the face, you smiled sadly to yourself. "These were the good days."

"They were. How did you even survive on your own, anyway? Six years alone, it must have been rough."

You could hear the worry in his voice which you almost took as an insult. You are small and lanky for sure, but you have always managed to do everything by yourself and with success.

"I was with my uncle for the first year before I ran away. I believe I was alone for about two years, which wasn't that hard. I made contacts everywhere and it became pretty handy. Then my uncle found me and we've been having this thing going on ever since. I do his deals and he pays me." you explained.

Changbin scoffed. "He's still around?"

You nodded. "After my dad got infected, he was pretty much all I had left. Except for you, who I have tried to contact for the past couple of years." you said, sending him a glare.

He held his hands up in defense. "It's not my fault SKZ is a secret organization. I would've put the whole team in danger if I answered your radio signals."

You crossed your arms on your chest. "A little sign of life would've been nice, though."

"Please, Y/N. I'm sorry, okay?"

A loud explosion nearby cut the conversation short. Looking to where it came from, you saw Felix and Jeongin hiding behind a wall while a crowd of infected people ran towards them. They had seemingly threw a bomb at them but it was clearly uneffective. Instinctively, you took Changbin's gun and went ahead with shooting the monsters who were the closest to the boys. Jeongin took a moment to spot you before nodding his head as a sign of thank you. While you continued to shoot, he grabbed Felix and rushed him to a building further away.

"Changbin, Y/N!" Yeonjun's voice said as it came from the door Chris had previously gone through. "The building's not safe anymore, come with me."

You rushed to follow him and walked down the stairs to get to a level where you could jump to the building beside. Changbin took his gun back and made sure to beat any infected with whom you'd come upon.

"Are Seungmin and Minho alright with the cure? And Chris-"

"They're all fine, now's not the time." Yeonjun shut you up.

A couple of levels later, you left the staircase to go find a window wide enough to go through. As it seemed to be a quieter place, you allowed yourself to calm down and take a look around. It resembled an old office room where workers would type all day about whatever.

"I never came here." Changbin informed.

"We didn't necessarily need this space anyway." Chris said as he walked in the room, limping slightly. "I've gotten everyone out, it's just us now."

"Where are the others?" you asked.

Chris let out a grunt from the pain his leg was causing but still took the time to answer you. "I don't know but we have a meeting point. We'll find each other again eventually. It is a shame, though, this place has been the longest settlement we've had so far."

"Oh, fuck." Yeonjun cursed before running to the doors, shutting them closed. "We don't have much time and the way to the next building isn't that simple."

"What do you mean?"

Changbin pointed to the hole in the wall. "It leads to a balcony. The plank of wood there can be our bridge."

You went ahead and helped him get the piece of wood, trying your best to get it out as soon as possible. Meanwhile, Yeonjun was trying his best to keep the door closed but as more infected came, it became harder. Chris wanted to help but his leg wasn't letting him. Helplessly, he watched Yeonjun struggle and you and Changbin doing everything to get out fast.

In his mind, he was already dead. He thought about Minho for a moment, hoping he had taught the younger man everything to take over his place as leader. He truly hoped he did. Because he wasn't going to make it. He would only slow everyone down.

"Man, come here." Changbin yelled at him.

"You'll have to go without me." he declared, feeling defeated.

This caught your attention and you went back to Chris. Seeing him so vulnerable, your heart sank. If he was like Changbin had described him, it would be a waste for him to die. With a determined walk, you went to his side and put his arm around your neck to be his support.

"What are you doing?"

"Saving your ass." you rolled your eyes before looking at Yeonjun. "Jun, we can go now."

Your friend's face was fully red, a result of his entire strength used to keep away the monsters. Even if he wanted to, he wasn't going to have the energy to join you and leave. And one glance at each other was everything it took for you to understand that.

"You've been great, Jun." you smiled sadly, not even feeling the single tear that left your eye.

He gave you a small smirk, the best he could give you given the circumstances.

With a heavy heart, you grabbed tightly onto Chris and dragged him all the way to the hole in the wall, and then to the improvised bridge you and Changbin made. The latter was already on the other side but he crossed back to give you a hand with Chan. You sat the man down so he could slide instead of walk. Once safely arrived, you hurried to join them and throw the plank down, preventing the zombie-like creatures to follow you.

Out of breath, the three of you dropped on the floor. You couldn't believe it, you had just lost Yeonjun. Sure, he wasn't your favourite person on Earth but he had never left your side for years. In a way, he was your safe space. An annoying one for sure but it hurt nonetheless. And without saying a thing, you let one more tear drop from your eye while being totally unaware of Chan's gaze on you.

Normally, you would have left the neighborhood entirely. But because Christopher was having an issue with his right leg, this was not an option. Staying at the highest floor of the building next to the old SKZ headquarters, you were pleasantly surprised by the arrangement of the space. Someone had stayed there for a bit but left their bedding as well as their canned food and magazines. Maybe this person died but it didn't matter to you at that moment. You were just grateful to have access to such a luxury.

You all had a long day and deserved a rest, and Chan needed it the most. You had bickered beforehand about who was going to stay awake in case of anything but you inevitably won the argument.

With the light provided by the lamp in the middle of the small room, you read out loud the words written on the pages. Boring was one way to describe the texts but it was better than nothing.

"-the release of the movie had been much awaited by fans from all around the world. At its first screening in theaters-"

"What movie?" Chris cut you off.

"Avatar 2."

He chuckled. "It was a big thing, wasn't it?"

"Movie theaters..." Changbin said dreamily. "Will we ever be able to have this kind if experience again?"

You could only roll your eyes. "This is mothing compared to our movie nights."

"Gosh, I forgot about those!"

Chan frowned. "You two were pretty close, yeah?"

Changbin grinned. "My whole childhood was with her."

"At its first screening in theaters, many complained about-"

"Let's do something else." Chan cut you off, snatching the magazine out of your hands.

"What else do you suggest?" you sighed, knowing there wasn't much to do.

"We can chat a bit, learn about each other."

Changbin shook his head. "We already know each other."

"I don't know her, and you might not be aware of some things about her too."

"Fine. Y/N, how's your uncle doing?" he asked, not expecting much of it.

"Head of the bounty group in the city. He's enjoying power and abusing people but at least he gives me some money from time to time." you answered.

"Let me guess, when you do the job for him."

You nodded and that pretty much shut the whole conversation. Well, for the two of you. Chris' mind was going through a whirlwind of questions to ask. He was fascinated by your ability to remain calm and unfazed but it surely meant you had gone through something that made you this way. He wanted to know what happened. He wanted to dig into your mind to find the troubled girl. He wanted to help her.

"Your parents died, no? How did you deal with that?"

Your jaw clenched and you noticed Changbin was ready to throw some fists. Surprisingly, you weren't mad that he dared to mention your parents. In some way, you had beeb waiting for an opportunity to think of them. Ever since they died, you didn't let yourself take a moment for them.

"I coped the best way I could. I mainly tried to forget about it but I miss them still, you know? And my uncle has always been an ass so it didn't help much that he was still alive, let's say. He's family but I would've rather not if I'm being honest."

Chan chuckled. "He seems like one hell of a persona."

"Believe me, he is."

"It reminds me of my own parents."

You frowned, intrigued. "Are they..?"

"Dead, yes. My sister too. I don't know where my brother is but he most likely didn't make it. I miss them too but I made my own little family now. And I won't lose them."

Your gaze softened at his words. Scary is definitely a good word to describe Chris but deep down, he was a simple guy wanting to do good to protect his friends.

"You're part of it now, you know?"

You cleared your throat, uncertain on how to react. "Right... Uhm, it's getting late. You two can sleep, I'll be on the lookout."

Changbin took the gun from you before you could stand up, sending you a look that said plenty to you. He was going to watch first. You let him do and looked at his back while he went to sit next to the closed door.

"I get why you took Bin with you." you said in a low tone to Chris while settling down on the small blanket next to him.

He laid on the mattress himself as he replied. "Why?"

"He's built like a bodyguard, mentally and physically."

"He is, but he was so vulnerable when I met him. I was in a similar headspace and with Han being the anxious guy he is, we were a unique trio."

You didn't expect him to open up like this about the past, especially not the beginnings of SKZ. The organization might be small, as you know now, but the power they hold is something. Knowing the slightest information about them could ruin their doings. But since you were a member, you guessed it didn't matter now.

"We had a different name back then, 3Racha. We thought we were clever but when the other guys joined, it wasn't a good fit anymore."

You laughed. "Good call on changing the name. Why SKZ, though?"

"Stray Kids, a good representation of us I think. We're wandering around with a purpose but, in the end, we're all children still."

You liked that way of thinking. You were about to ask more in terms of the formation of the group but Chris' grunt took you off guard. Wincing more as he wiggles around more, you sat up and leaned towards his body to check where the pain was coming from. From the way he was holding onto his leg, you could tell this was the issue.

"Can I take a look?"

While panting heavily, he nodded in a hurry as if he was begging you to make the pain go away. Carefully, you pulled the blanket off him and went ahead with rolling his pants up to above his knee. That part of his body had clearly gone through a slight fracture.

"Gosh, what the hell did you do?" you mumbled more to yourself than to him.

"I was pushed down the stairs by an infected, no bites though."

You started to massage his knee a bit but the wince he let out was enough to make you stop. Instead, you ripped a piece of your shirt, one long enough so you could wrap it around his leg.

"I don't know if this will help for sure but it will keep it stable for a bit. The more you move, the more it'll hurt and worsen." you explain was tying it all up.

Chris watched you in admiration. There was something about you that he hadn't seen before, softness. There was worry and care in your touch.

"Thank you."

You gave him a small smile. "We don't want our leader to suffer now, do we?"

"Suffering is part of the equation, Y/N. The sacrifices I make are for the others."

"For tonight, it might be good for you to feel at peace. We don't know what will happen tomorrow."

You said this as if this had not been the case for the last six years. Every day was an adventure with risks. However, now that the team no longer had a safe space, it was much more dangerous to be out in the forbidden zones.

"Sleep well, Y/N." Chan finally spoke up, laying down again.

"You too."

It took two weeks for Chris to be able to walk in some way. In that time, your trio grew to have a routine. You and Changbin would switch places every night for the lookout but he was most often out to get the food and such. That left you and Chan alone together for the majority of the time. You didn't mind, Chris was fun when he wanted to be.

You grew closer which made you both glad. You didn't feel like you were walking on eggshells every time you were around him anymore. Instead, you felt safe. He had the trick with words so he could tell you anything in the wisest way possible. That, or he was flirting.

Maybe it was due to his lack of action in the love department, but he would make flirty comments nonstop.

One time, Changbin left to see if he could get a hold of some medicine for Chan's leg. The moment he left, Chris was at it again.

"Now that he's gone, that leaves us alone again." he had said with an eyebrow raised.

This had to stop, now that you were on the move again. The sole focus had to be finding the other boys, and only Chris knew where to find them.

On the run again, you left your little temporary hideout that morning with only a couple of belongings with yourselves such as food and weapons. You were far away from the city now, leaving you wondering where the hell Chris had planned to go.

"Are we there yet?" you asked with a whine on purpose.

"No, I've told you." he answered calmly.

His patience was impressive but you were testing his limits. "How long do we have still?"

"More than expected if you continue complaining like this."

Changbin held back a laugh. For him, seeing the new dynamic his friends had was entertaining. The growth from being distant to joking around all the time was the last thing he would've expected from the two of you.

A couple of miles later, you settled down in an abandoned convenience store to take a small break. To your luck, some snacks were still intact as well as some beverages. This brought back memories from when you would demand sodas from your father and he would repeatedly tell you how bad it was for your health. Let's say it didn't matter anymore. Food was food.

"Look! They got ramen." Chris said, bringing a box full of them.

"Jackpot." you cheered, taking one pack for yourself.

"If only we have boiling water." Changbin pointed out but Chris coming from the back of the store with a boiler shut him off real quick. "Nevermind."

"It almost feels like we're robbing someone's safe place, this store has everything."

Chris shrugged. "We're not staying for long, just to refill our stomachs. We'll continue after."

Your eyes widened. "You mean we won't sleep?"

"Not tonight, we slept plenty last week. What, did you want to cuddle with me?" he winked at you.

"As if." you scoffed.

Changbin, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the tension, started to get the food ready. In the meantime, you and Chan kept an eye outside just in case. In no time, the three of you were on the ground, slurping on your noodles loudly. This might had been the first good meal you had in a long time. You really took instant noodles for granted back when you had easy access to it.

"Are you done?" Chris asked as he finished his bowl.

You and Changbin hurried to finish and you were back to walking again, not forgetting to pack a couple of items from the store.

It felt like you had been advancing for eternity without getting much closer. You were mostly silent, that didn't help. You were growing more and more bored by the minute and, visibly, both boys felt the same.

"Truth or dare?" you suddenly spoke, startling the guys.

"Uh, Y/N?" Changbin said, confused.

"Might as well make the most of this trip." you shrugged. "Truth or dare?"

Chan was the first to answer. "Truth."

"Do you really think we'll find a cure?"

He gave you a look, as if to tell you that you were being weird. "I think so, but it won't be a thing done by the snap of my fingers. Bin?"

"Dare."

"Hum the hapoy birthday song."

"Boring. Y/N?"

"Truth."

Changbin smirked at you, a sign he was uo to no good with his question. "Who's the most handsome in SKZ?"

You cleared your throat, keeping your eyes in front of you. From the side, you noticed Chan looking at you as he expected your answer more excitedly than he should.

"Uh, do I have to say?"

"Yes." both men answered.

You breathed out loudly and stopped on your tracks to look at them both. "You're all good-looking in your own ways but... uh... Chan is pretty nice to look at." you mumbled quickly before walking again.

Chan's smirk crept on his face before he jogged to catch up with your speed. Meanwhile, Changbin proudly tapped his own shoulder to congratulate himself.

"What did you say? I couldn't hear properly." Chris questioned, though you knew he had heard it perfectly.

"Don't make me repeat it."

"I'm pretty nice to look at? This might be the best compliment I have ever received." he snorted in a sarcastic way, earning a glare from you. "If it can help your case, you're pretty cute too, you know?"

If you could control it, you wouldn't blush. Never would you accept a compliment from Chris, even less after you were forced to give him one.

"Let's go back to walking in silence, shall we?" you suggested, ignoring the man completely. "Changbin, can I walk with you?"

He shrugged. "Nah, I'm good in my bubble."

You wanted to rip his head off at this instant but refrained yourself from doing so. Evidently, you had no choice but to continue to trip with Chan next to you.

"Ignoring people is rude."

"I'm not ignoring you." you defended, although it couldn't be any more false.

"It's not such a good look on you, baby."

Your eyes went wide immediately. In the spur of the moment, you shoved him to the side and fastened your speed of walk. You weren't even mad at the nickname. In fact, you kind of liked how bold Chris was. Anywho, you had no time to flirt, even less with the SKZ leader. Trying to recollect yourself, you focused on your breathing to being it back to a normal pace.

Only for Chan to show up again.

"It was a joke, I'm sorry."

"Uhm." you hummed, still not acknowledging him.

"Y/N..."

"It's fine, don't worry."

Feeling defeated, he didn't push it further. So you continued to walk, only hearing the wind and the sounds from your footsteps.

The warehouse was most likely a place they had previously chosen as a base. The equipment was still functional and tons of weapons had been hidden in a safe place under the floor of the basement. Heavy barbed wire all around on top of high fences, you wondered why they even left this place to begin with.

"Not discreet enough." Minho answered your question, which you had seemingly said outloud. "With all the heavy security mesures here, we are easily spotted by enemies. Sure, it's safer but we prefer places where we can work hidden from anyone."

You were glad the whole group made it to the safe meeting point. Jisung immediately went about taking care of Chan's injury while everyone gathered to figure out what to do next.

"We can always travel to the east part of the country?" Hyunjin suggested.

Seungmin, however, disapproved. "With an injured leader and a newbie on the team, we might want to stay close to the city."

"There's always TXT's hiding place." Jeongin shrugged.

It pinched inside to hear that group. You missed Yeonjun, more than you would have imagined.

"It's too small for you all." you argued.

"Yeah, I need the equipment for the research." Minho added.

"We'll stay here." Chan announced as he came back with Jisung. "We are almost done with the formula, we need a couple more weeks and it should be ready to test. I doubt we'll have issues until then."

"I added traps all around the base while we were waiting for the threesome people, we should be safe." Jisung precised before slumping down on a couch.

"Threesome people?" Chris repeated in a mumble.

"Yeah, like how Changbin was surely going to sleep with Y/N and Y/N and Chris keep eye-fucking each other nonstop."

"We got the point, thanks Jisung." Jeongin stopped him, which you were grateful for.

"She's like a sister to me, that'd be so wrong." Changbin continued.

You sent him a glare but he ignored it. "No one's slept or will sleep with anyone."

"Hmm, you'd be surprised." Hyunjin argued.

"I don't want the details."

Chan clapped his hands together, shutting the conversation. "Can we get back to work?"

Everybody went to their position: Felix and Jeongin on the lookout on the roof, Changbin at the entrance, Jisung and Hyunjin in training, Minho and Seungmin on the cure...

You were left alone with Chris in his new office. With a radio at hand, you were trying to catch any signals of new research found about the virus of potential visits from enemies that you could prepare for. It wasn't that exciting other than hearing people talk.

"Y/N L/N... works for... reward of..." you heard while tuning in the radio.

You had completely forgotten about your uncle, even more the load of work you still had to execute for him. In a moment of panic, you stood uo and paced around the room, looking for your stuff.

"Woah, Y/N." Chris said, standing up as well.

"I have to go back." you announced, breath unsteady.

"What?"

"My uncle, he's gonna kill me if I don't finish his deals."

He frowned. He had tried to understand why you were so insistent on continuing to work for that guy. From his point of view, nothing beneficial for you. You would receive much less than what you deserve, get treated like shit and live in a shitty torn down apartment.

"You don't have to-"

"You don't understand." you interrupted him. "That man is the reason why I'm still alive. I did all of his work and he allowed me to get by in exchange. I let him down, he can ruin my name. He has contacts, I know he will kot hesitate to-"

"You don't have to." Chan repeated. "You're not there anymore, you're not trapped. Look, I don't know what happened with the two of you but I think he might have manipulated you. Telling you that you owe him for what he did for you? You don't owe him anything, he's the one who owes you. You do all of his dirty work for a few silvers and do it all again the next day. And what if he ruins your name? You can't be found with us. Well, your chances are low let's say. You're safe."

You hadn't noticed he had taken your hands in reassurance until you felt his thumbs rubbing against your skin. This might had been the first time someone had touched you like this, so intimately. As much as it was a foreign sensation, you felt as if there was nothing else but you and him. As if a bubnle had created around you. As tears dropped from your eyes, you took in what he just said. For years, you believed you had no choice but to give back to your uncle for lpoking after you, when in reality, he had never done anything but use you. Chan was right.

You let out a chuckle. "In a way, you saved me. By recruiting me."

"In a way."

You stepped forward, getting closer to him. So close that you could smell him. He smelled fresh and new, nothing like someone who spent years being a rebel. Looking up to stare back at him, his gaze had moved down to your lips. So you looked at his lips too and, slowly, you moved closer to each other until you kissed.

It was nothing like you had experienced before. There wasn't just lust and want in the kiss, there was anger, sadness, relief.... It wasn't a clear mix but it felt good.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to seem to take advantage of the situation or-"

You shushed him with a small peck. "You're not, I swear. Look, I don't do great at relationship stuff but-"

It was his turn to cut you off as he let out a laugh. "There is no pressure."

For a moment, you could only smile and stare at one another. This was simple, easy. You loved it, actually.

"... vaccine in development..." the radip glitched, grabbing both your attention. "... no cure found... coming from yeast... mores tests..."

Chan took a deep breath. "I think the guys are going to like that information."

"What do you mean?"

His smile grew bigger. "We know the source of it now. If the guys can combine the source with the developped molecule, we might find a way to prevent it from evolving."

"So..?" you asked again, still not fully understanding.

"We're near the end of it all, Y/N."

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids bang chan #bang chan #bang chan fanfic #bang chan scenarios #bang chan x reader #stray kids zombie apocalypse au #zombie apocolypse au #bang chan apocalypse au #stray kids science fiction #stray kids scenarios

101 notes · View notes

meonlyred · 8 months

Text

Going to go on a bit of a rant here about the "BG3 companions younger mods" I have been seeing. Don't want to hijack someone's else posts. Or really engage in the fandom about it. Just want to get it off my chest.

I try not to judge how people mod their games. After all it doesn't effect me or my play throughs in the least. But man, I find these kind of mods disconcerting, I guess. I wouldn't go as far to say offensive but at very least it seems like an extremely narrow world view on what people can and cannot look like. Which I find to be irritating and frustrating.

There are dozens of RPGs with companions who are young, in their early to mid 20s. And that is fine. But we are spoiled for choice for games with companions like that. I am not sure the official age of all the companions, but most of them are clearly over 30, some older and that frankly is refreshing and wonderful to see. That adventure and questing isn't some Logan's Run bullshit where no one ever gets past 30.

This cast of characters had lives, they had complicated pasts before coming together. They weren't fresh faced and new sent out into the world for the first time. Its nice to see that written into their appearance. Their appearances are just as much part of their development as their quests and romances are.

I was delighted when Larian changed Gale from early access patch 1 to what he looks like now. Unkempt slightly greying hair, dark circles under the eyes, much more fitting of a man who spent a year quarantining himself while he waited to die an extremely violent death. It makes him look like an actual developed character and not "Leading Video Game Man With No Depth Or Personality #29323." [Replays his act 2 scene for the dozenth time where he actually looks harrowed and begging you not to leave him alone because he is terrified.]

And Jaheira! I am going to kiss someone on the mouth for her design! She actually looks like my grandmother did. I can't describe in words how fucking tired I am of "She is an elf so she looks like she is 12." Which jfc, so much to unpack there. Actually seeing a female character who is fucking "ALLOWED" to look old fills me with so much joy. Taking that away does feel almost offensive to me. Every inch of a real life women's bodies are already pick over for every imperfection as it is. Male characters can look old, have wrinkles and grey hair but heaven fucking forbid a woman looking over 30 or have any slight "imperfection!" I hope every video game female character from now on looks 50+ and if anyone tries to make her to look even a year younger, I will personally come to burn down your house.

I think, I might be the most pissed off about her "younger" mod.

There is even a mod to make Shadowheart look "younger" which I can't even begin to express my disappointed on that. Younger? You mean somehow airbrushed in our muddy shitty camp?

#Red Rambles #Totally not a BGThree post #Some slight spoilers in here too for act 2

22 notes · View notes

yonemurishiroku · 2 years

Note

Hello! I just wanted to know your thoughts of how a role reversal between Nico and Bianca would go? How different would everything in the books be if Nico was the older brother sent on the quest, and Bianca was the younger sister? Would Bianca still join the Hunters? Would Nico be a doting brother or would he follow what the original Bianca did and try to live a little bit of his own life, trusting the camp to watch over Bianca? Would Nico still be a nerd over Mythomagic? Would the siblings both live and someone else becomes the victim of the prophecy? Or would Nico die?

Has anyone written a similar fic?

This is such an intriguing ask, I'm literally having a field day with this.

Let's start on the grounds of their reversed roles: Nico is the older sibling while Bianca is the little sister.

Now, provided that the original ten-year-old Nico is quite enthusiastic and lively, I'm gonna say that this older Nico would be half the same at the start, for the age change is actually just 3 years if I'm not wrong? A twelve-year-old can still be passionate about a card game and generally curious.

But again, he witnessed his mother's death and was most likely made aware of other terrible things surrounding his and his sister's lives. We know little about what Bianca knew in her short time of action, but she seemed cautious and wary enough for me to guess that if it was Nico who was the caring one, he would be skeptical all time and closed off when he needed to. Maybe he would start out as careful and alert at first, and then open up much more when he finds Percy and his friends trustworthy enough.

Would Nico be a doting brother----You can be damn sure he would. We all see how he treats Hazel. And he stood up to a Manticore because he speaks ill to his sister. You can't convince me he wouldn't be ridiculously protective of Bianca.

Sure, I suppose he'd want to live a life for himself too. However, Nico's enthusiasm before Bianca's death for all Mythomagic and Greek gods and such. Camp Half-blood would be literally his heaven. What this older Nico wishes for would be a demigod life safe in the Camp, learning about Gods etc... So no, I don't think he has any reason to leave.

Would Bianca still join the Hunters? Now, this is an interesting question. This is not confirmed but I suspect that Artemis promoted Bianca because she knew her lineage and was trying to prevent her from the prophecy - much like she is doing with Thalia. The invitation remains in place.

For Bianca's part, I suppose she'd be scared. She's just 10 years old, of course she'd be scared to join all the strangers in their weird cult or whatever. And if Nico's any like the original Bianca, this younger Bianca would most likely listen to and seeks advice from him. Then, if we take in Nico's role as one to look out for his younger sister, I don't think he would easily agree to let her leave his sight, joining a bunch of Huntresses to who knows where. Nico is protective of his sisters, I'm sure we could agree on that.

With that being said, I suppose the problem is just which outcome you prefer. Maybe Bianca still wants to live a life of her own. Maybe she can convince her brother. Maybe she fails and stays at Camp Half-Blood. Maybe she fails but joins anyway and it leaves Nico with a mess of questions, worries, guilt and regrets and a rift between them.

Assuming Bianca doesn't join the Hunters. Then there's a chance Nico's picked to be one of the questers, knowing him, I guess he wouldn't turn it down. Moving on to Heaphasteus' junkyard, let's just say I refuse to believe that Nico is reckless enough to pick up the Hades figure for himself despite the warning. He knows better than that. He might pick something else for Bianca and then dies, though. This is more plausible. Otherwise, we'll just have to pick someone else to play the devastating death in the prophecy, then.

Let's assume Bianca still joins the Hunters anyway, is picked by Zoe, and then leaves. Then things would go on pretty the same as canon, though Percy would need more to convince Nico to let him go instead. Bianca's death, a broken promise and Nico's outburst. What comes after is that perhaps Nico could be much colder, stronger and more vicious, for he knows more than ten-year-old Nico and is capable of far more. He'd hardly be manipulated that easily by Minos, the memories might come back sooner and he wouldn’t be tricked by Greryon (or whatever his name is). Percy would have to deal with so much worse than a mere angsty teen.

Nico would still try to summon his sister's ghost, that's for sure. But she doesn't have to tell him about their fatal flaws because he has already known. He resents Percy and blames himself at the same time. He fails to protect his sister, I don't think Nico can ever live peacefully with that thought.

A few other things, his relationship with Hades might change a little. Because now Nico is the older, more mature and supposedly more talented one, Hades wouldn't prefer he dies in place of Bianca, now would he? But her death creates a rift between them anyway. Maybe Hades lets it slip that "You failed to protect even your own sister!" Maybe they blame each other for her death. The guilts, regrets and sorrows. That's what grief does to you.

Nonetheless, they would soon work it out, I believe.

Regarding the matter of staying in Camp Half-blood, I personally entertain the idea that older Nico is much better at reading people as the result of those years surviving and protecting his sister after Maria’s death. Hence, he is able to see clearer people’s apprehension, how they are wary of him, distrust him and unconsciously or deliberately stay away from him. So in the end, Nico chooses to leave immediately after the Titan War, spare not an effort to befriend any campers.

With Percy, Nico’s crush might just reduce to a mere attraction, since in canon, it’s more like hero worship - and while they’re the same age and there’s a possibility Nico’s aware of his own powers, he wouldn’t be impressed that much. (Btw he’s still worrying for Bianca).

Nico would set things right with Percy sooner - just because he’s older and able to conceive things with less personal feelings than the younger canon. But he still leaves, so there’s that.

For the pleasure of your fanfic request, there’re two I have encountered that approach this idea.

A Different di Angelo by DashingLuna: An AU where it was Nico who went on the quest and died. Percy has to deal with a resentful Bianca.

Death's Reason by Pey119: This is actually a Time Travel AU in which Nico travels back in time to prevent Gaea’s victory. Since Nico is sent back, he is older than Bianca, and, interestingly enough: Percy, too. It started out quite amazing, ngl. Although I had to leave after everything took a sudden turn that has something to do with their pasts and love curses and such, I’d still say it’s quite a thrilling ride. If you’re fine with the work tags, I suggest giving it a chance!

This is everything I want to say, ig. Again, thank you for the lovely ask! Wish you a nice day/ evening!

#nico di angelo #bianca di angelo #children of hades #nico and bianca #reversed roles au #hades (pjo)#nico and hades #pjo #hoo #toa #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #yone rambling #fic rec #fanfic talk again bc what’s new anw?

71 notes · View notes

libidomechanica · 29 days

Text

“Grave men, near death, desire breeds flames best look, set down”

A kimo sequence

To our Theme. Due adoration, and being too, the brindled bitch, they are found himself a fool.

Grave men, near death, desire breeds flames best look, set down his shadows, with pleasures in Stellaes face.

Those hours, that blows; and love, and are asleep. But more fit to the milkweeds’ honey terrifies me.

A pocket-book and silver snowy sentences, the woody hollow door, which was beheaded.

Want of foolscap subject of time. Own backyard like a quest, a land of the forestalled, get opposite!

Ye scorn my low estate, and dim hopes and petals of a winters in the fault? Don Juan, carpe, carpe!

And teach through the clouds, as mortals, love you. They fled with zeal. Whose diapason knells on scrolls of jet.

To love her; and, like a hawk, an’ it winna let a body be. Of thanks me not through a white?

Hill of moss before a tower of custom. For many an envoy either leaf, the diamonds.

In these hills round thy bier. Nor coldly passe in this hour the sea, till the death, if she doth go.

To shield him coming, near, she is not a genius or under a wide hat, dancer, had kept hold.

And down to every vessel could be any man in any room. Most importune wheeled, and St.

When move in women are, or, one dream within be fed, with a modern we are betrayed by deeds.

I probably didn’t bother. I hate those lips of thread in thy heart, and sighing, thinking Stephen Hill.

Have been a-telling statues of the night. It’s jet, jet black, an’ it winna let a body be.

A pure smooth pearl and boxing; and he who must I: for what was as sure, who threatned strings do break.

’ Whose spirits of these flowers, once a whole mother in the full as deep and when there by the dead.

Breeds flames of battle move? Did I hear it half starved. It looks from the lamps, then dazled were his life.

On the higher views upon the rise again, fair Lesley, the heroes, kings. With a tighter clasp?

Fast wither’d at a distant heard by fate and thus, my Katie? Mark but the ecstasy of death.

They won’t or can’t allow the feathers fair, and, as the wild hill side. And the taste me thus, my Love!

She is near; ’ and thee! You may for ever; for Nature’s law. With what an even think that good night.

—And maun I still have plenty: so let it then as well at once might insinuations bothers.

They refuse to listens, I hear, I hear it half so sure the dormitory. Such play at all.

There stood: he passion. Slaves of endless charmed, the shadow, he pursues! Beyond siroccos harvest.

Softest, Russian or Castilian? Of all that can ail thee, as the graves unnumber’d lie; the rest.

And let go. Who watch’d to trace the Soul is, and judg’d aright, because thou art a scholar, Lycius!

” “Now whether to faint things, and there is Love. You, a sparrows sends; by that to his neck three were dead.

Beyond what other women is, the ceiling. Whether my eyes can believes me, maybe can tell.

Change to chlorophyll, and round himself extremely fair; the true! Of all her ills—a scattering.

Drew forth streams,—even they were hardly bear it. Kick off their beds and fussed around shall I awake!

Mark where I am! The lava ravish’d, scarce seen the Lady Carolines and Franceses?

Span of the main, and there. Each life unblest kisses had got out on Shooter’s Hill; and singing of.

It once be seen, and the third errand sent. Come live with light, although I despaire at me doth breathe?

The color of that ground, I though the Night by his belov’d repose? Thou art out of that he said.

Too subtle for a change, o yearning to me for that black, an’ it winna let a body be.

Or all, what name, for shells and virtue is a garden, flowers, footless and weep. And tumble pat.

On speed and fell into that eve, as twas the thread the sad attendants; then the extremely sick?

That dead sands flashing chariot, rolling of her hand: true to th’ ears in snow: seas shall die.

Pale grew her here incessantly by playing like this arm-chair? Though ye be, yet, lilies and play.

A high building and of mine. More children, talents other cantos of this ever-diverse pair!

And nobody calls the wolf rages wide, and yet the Border? I woke— and chide my honest man.

Times such whom all hoped to find, each in his happy valley they pale, as mortal fruit? If you see.

Eyes there; that she made; heaven raining gilt from some will know that can be done? No stream’d from your knees.

The soldier went for death, if she doth throw. What can be old, for his turf, and long tunes and love is.

The milliners who furnish drapery Misses? Might each more beauteous hill of moss, just half starved.

The brief for afford to the world,—which, though, we were black where you can even grace. In equal grew.

For ever trust beyond, I wish I have gone her cry, oh misery! And fair Lesley, return.

And let go. ’ So I shall be its named mount Pleasantly with her robes flaunted for so large a mind.

They say his system t is time would understand. Not, but shudder in the sun, but waxing thighs?

Again precipitate thy soul the sky and has a crust. Warmed, but never, never breed the must.

Of all Olympus’ faded hierarchy! The wife he sought of Platonic shades and trust their rents.

And withal, they sigh’d for want of my stout blood in a forests shook three A. My business were left.

” No, no: you would Wisdom be) shine opposite! Such miracle. And paid Where Chick Lorimer went.

To thy body’s weight of food and paid it. Car on this my purchaser suspect the daisies grow.

Wind into delight, light winds used to speak, ev’n from too wide and blinded rabbits, cows with surprise.

Fairer than on continent, because ye hae the hole, ’ would under the pile—make the might appal!

Like fog smothering darkness chariots hurl’d like Fairy Queen, the floor. But, trowth I care na by.

Of yonder weed took up the flower or henchman, oh Jack! See; but first thy heauy grace, the long weeks.

If merciful as your body’s end? For laik o’ gear ye lightly me, but, trowth, I care na by.

Or amber, but faire a vertue to every thing. Or a sail flung it from his swooning long you mine.

Bless you. In island dwelt a nymph, to whom I am confined doom. ’Er his future day—fond Thought!

Their average numeral; also the Fauns from Boston Commons turn’d his soul can be done my wrong.

Her exceeding pain. Lulled by the spring. And she wakes, is too-too cruelly to part, my Katie?

Without the end of the rest torn out. The desultory breeze that faint in his fame with half starved.

And sure in languages—as well as brighter eyes and live: Alas! Yet it was gold or silver.

My thoughts, sold cheap what is gift; creation’s blithe and fainted in the less gone? As he from your knees.

Guy calls the pen in the grass his features, couched upon a Harp of Song? Thine eye may stand away.

Eyes; light, and could ever turning saw the harvest. It sweeps plastic and vanish’d pleasure to meet.

Not silence best help I can: before it woo, and to an early exposure to Frankenstein!

Stay! To-morrow space to do it, then, much as ever yet was shut out, and lint, and went to sleep.

All kinds of life confined, some splinters in the surface-eyes were. Scarce that now you may for ever.

Perhaps to pick up. As some thing like a delusion; there by zephyrs, streaks running over you.

To proof makes us wish I could restrain her fearfully. Grounded on sinful loving, alert.

Master’s hand—as man’s ingratitudes and elegances terse. Oh woe is me! Than my knee.

My wailing cheer. And doth in it live. A fortune swells with a pious love of course must like that.

Diamonds, on the nightgown would understand. Stink of Rhyme, but do not, nor despised, whilst the dying.

I said to the most fairer than his way. Too gentle Euphues, who watch’d with disdain to tinder.

If facing, was forced to pray: so subtly is the spoils of country’s good—which no more. Fond Thought!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #128 texts #kimo sequence

1 note · View note

tonkiomni · 2 years

Text

Garfield kart frame drop

The action roguelite section of the game doesn’t have the build diversity of other games like Binding of Issac or Atomicrops, or the mechanical challenge. Since I’ve covered most of the game’s mechanics, let me try to wrap it all up into one neat package. At their worst, you can sacrifice them to a pit of tentacles for emergency meat. At their best, they’re pretty much slaves to your every whim. They’re a resource to be used in your quest to slay the bishops. Cultists aren’t friends or helpful NPC’s. This is the biggest argument for me on why Cult of the Lamb isn’t like Animal Crossing. You can also unlock the ability to sacrifice members for various reasons, including to resurrect yourself after dying in the roguelike portion of the game, but I never used that feature. There’s also a portion of the game where several of your cultists will be randomly selected to turn against you, and you’re forced to kill them. But cultist death makes it feel bad to use gifts or invest any significant effort into leveling up a single member. Cultists can die of old age, which encourages constantly acquiring new members. It doesn’t help that there are a bunch of other mechanics that discourage you from getting attached. The benefits to doing so were pretty much non-existent. The end result is that I never really felt incentivized to get attached to anyone, or to assign any specific cultist a specific task. I only ever saw cultists with a maximum of three traits, and most of them have fairly minimal gameplay impacts things like “15% faster/slower gathering speed.” While each individual cultist does have some of their own traits, they don’t offer much variety. This is as good a moment as any to talk about the cultists themselves. So it’s somewhat necessary to either set things up so that they won’t starve while you’re away, or to try to minimize the time spent on your crusades. Time passes the same regardless of if you’re at your cult, or on a crusade. The timing system itself is probably worth noting. For some rituals the cooldown was several in-game days long. In practice, I never once ran out of the resource needed to perform rituals, so I pretty much just performed them whenever they were off cooldown. Speaking of, rituals! Another building you unlock early on is the Church, where you can perform rituals and announce doctrines for your followers to obey. This might have been because the only time someone wasn’t loyal, I sacrificed them to be ritually devoured by tentacles. Keep them loyal, or they’ll… I actually don’t know what happens to be honest. Keep your cultists fed, or they’ll start to starve, and get unhappy. While individual cultists have their own stats, these meters provide a sort of aggregate overview of the status of your cult. The other resources you have to keep an eye on are the food and faith meters. It’s used to unlock additional buildings and structures from your primary tech tree. The shrine is used to gather devotion.ĭevotion serves the role that something like “Science points” would in another game. But you make the the most important building during the game’s intro: the shrine. You can construct buildings with resources you’ve gathered. This is the management sim portion of the game. Either way you’ll be sent back to your cult after. If you win the fight, you’ll get some bonus resources, and if you lose, you’ll lose some of what you’ve collected. Only one boss fight in the game took me multiple attempts. I played the game on medium difficultly, and I’d say that none of the fights are particularly challenging. Or two, if you’ve already defeated the zone 3 times, you’ll face off against the zone’s boss: one of the four Bishops of the Old Faith. One, you’ll face off against a mini-boss for a bit more loot and a recruitable. Upon reaching the final area of a zone, one of two things will happen. The rest are actually resource nodes, shops, or other small events. While this might look a little intimidating at first, there are usually only 2-3 combat areas in a run.

#Garfield kart frame drop

0 notes

bestiedionysus · 2 years

Text

the chb campers should unionize

#i mean #these kids show up with NOTHING #then have to buy all their stuff from the camp store #(WITH WHAT MONEY MIND YOU?)#then have to face monsters and lava walls throughout the day with their only healers being a horse and a group of children #and might be sent on a death quest where they will most likely die #they should get together and protest #pjo #chb #percy jackson #hoo #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo meta

35 notes · View notes

iiraven · 3 years

Text

Odyssey

Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)

Word count: 9.8K

Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.

Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride for teaching me how to write about pee!

Attack on Titan Masterlist

Present day:

If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.

In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.

No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.

It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.

Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.

A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.

You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.

You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.

As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.

And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.

It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.

Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.

If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.

Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.

The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.

Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.

The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.

Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.

Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.

It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.

His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.

You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.

The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.

But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god.

You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.

As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.

“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”

You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”

His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”

“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”

He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”

He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.

“Lemnos,” you say.

The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”

And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”

“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”

“You can’t make it impossible either!”

“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.

“What about Tree?”

Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”

“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.

“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.

“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”

“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.

He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”

You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”

“I know you can too,” he assures you.

You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”

It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”

And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.

Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.

A year ago:

Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.

It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.

Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.

“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”

He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”

The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.

The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.

“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.

When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.

And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.

His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.

There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.

And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.

It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.

He never returned to the sea.

As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.

But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.

Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.

“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”

Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.

And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.

It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.

A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.

The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.

The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.

You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.

The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.

His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.

After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.

But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.

So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.

Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.

And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began.

For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.

Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.

What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.

Eleven months ago:

A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.

“Thank you,” you said, standing up.

You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.

“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”

His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”

“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”

You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.

“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”

Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”

“So, is that a no?”

“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”

He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.

“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.

You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.

Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.

“How long do I have?” You asked instead.

“A year and a day.”

“And what will I get if I figure it out?”

At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.

Nine months ago:

Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.

And then you were visited at the river.

Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.

You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.

“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.

Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.

“The waterfall would kill you.”

The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”

You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.

“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.

“I might get saved, who knows.”

“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”

You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.

“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.

“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”

It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”

“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.

“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.

You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”

“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”

You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.

A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.

Present day:

Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.

You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.

He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.

But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.

In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.

It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.

“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.

You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.

He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.

Present day:

You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.

You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.

Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.

“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“

“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”

“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”

The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.

What you need is a god.

The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.

She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.

Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.

Well, except one person.

You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.

Present day:

The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.

This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.

You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.

Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-

“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.

“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.

Now, you know.

His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”

Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.

You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.

“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.

When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”

Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.

“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.

“Come here.”

And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.

When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.

Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.

“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”

But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.

“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”

If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”

The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.

“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”

As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-

Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?

“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”

Fuck.

The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even.

In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.

“Who is he?” Armin snaps.

“It was only-“

“Who is he?”

You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”

Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”

His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”

You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.

“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”

Slap!

“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”

He slaps you thrice.

“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.

Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.

The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”

You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”

Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”

“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin’s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.

“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”

The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. “You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.

“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”

And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.

“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”

What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”

“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.

“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.

“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”

“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”

You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.

He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.

When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.

“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”

“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”

He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.

“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”

You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”

Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.

“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”

“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”

“Good girl, good puppygirl.”

When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.

The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“

He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”

He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”

You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”

Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.

At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.

As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”

But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”

The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.

You expect Armin to disappear.

You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close.

Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.

“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.

It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine.

“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.

“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you.

“Armin- I- this is. But why?”

For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.

“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.

The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.

A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies.

435 notes · View notes

dimdiamond · 3 years

Text

Bagginshield fic list

Yeah, I decided to make one too because there are enough to cause me headaches and I'd like to have them somewhere organized. Please look at the tags before reading them!

Fix-it fics

Desperate magic by BeautifulFiction: Bilbo is left to tend Thorin as he hovers on the brink of death after the Battle of the Five Armies. Is love enough to save Erebor's king, or is this the last farewell?

Lay your troubles down by Avelera: An extended version of "the acorn scene." Bilbo sees his chance to snap Thorin out of his madness, and takes it.

The Riven Crown by BeautifulFiction: The aftermath of war is no laughing matter. Those who died must be honoured, those who are wounded must be healed, and those who remain need food and clothing, peace and sanctuary. With Thorin's life hanging in the balance, it is up to Bilbo and the rest of the Company to rule the rag-tag remnants of Erebor in his place. Then there is the matter of the gold... Can Bilbo save both king and kingdom, or is Erebor destined to fall deeper into ruin?

The Color of Possibility by lindoreda: When Bilbo puts himself between Thorin and Azog's blade, his mithril shirt protecting them both, it isn't long before some dwarves whisper that 'Oakenshield' might not be the best epithet for their king anymore. But for Bilbo, barred from Thorin's sight since the battle, this new epithet only adds to the sting. Spending his days caring for the recovering princes, Bilbo wonders how much more of this he can take, not suspecting his place at the center of a silent divide in the company.

Homesick by Margo_Kim: Five years after they've reclaimed Erebor, Thorin is sick of home, Bilbo is just sick, and neither is handling the situation ideally.

The Road Delivered Us Home by keelywolfe: In the years since Bilbo left Erebor, he has lost his respectability, gained a nephew, and gotten on with life at Bag End. He'd left aside adventure for the comforts and peace of his little Hobbit hole, and for the love of a child who needed him. Though perhaps, adventures can yet find him.

Notices in the Paper by YamBits: Bilbo returns to the Shire after his adventure, newly married, and newly homeless, after his two year absence allowed the Sackville-Bagginses to obtain Bag End. Bilbo and Thorin go to the Tooks for help, and find newly orphaned Frodo Baggins, also looking for a home.

A Royal Guardianship by ladyoakenshields: When Bilbo and Thorin return to the Shire for a sabbatical during Yuletide, they find a reason to retire the throne in Erebor sooner than expected.

The Shire's gems by awkwarng3: Thorin, Bilbo, and Frodo move to the Shire after raising Frodo in Erebor, and Frodo makes a friend.

Time travel fix-it fics

An expected journey by MarieJacquelyn: For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right? Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

Bilbo Baggins, warrior of the Valar by Pallalalo: Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “And you’ve come to the Shire to look for this someone? My, Gandalf, I wonder if you know Hobbits at all. They would tell you that adventures are nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. That they would make you late for dinner.” Bilbo recalled his own words perfectly. It had been something he and Gandalf had looked back on with bittersweet laughter. This Gandalf however noticed his exact words. “Would they now? And what about you, mhm? What would you tell me about adventures?” #The Valar send Bilbo back in time, to the day where Gandalf asks him to join in an adventure. After living a lifetime of regret and suffering, he vows to change things for the better. For Thorin. For Frodo. But will he succeed?

I'll die to care for you by thehufflepuffhobbit: His gaze landed on Mahal's eyes once more. "You did your best, Thorin." It was tempting to look away; he wanted to deny that with everything he had. It certainly didn't feel as though falling into Gold Sickness and then dying was doing his best. Mahal smirked, as though he knew Thorin's desire to contradict him, and pinched his cheek before walking over to a table. "Aye, I didn't think you would believe me. I'm not lying, it certainly could have gone better. More according to my plan, but I know you really did try." "Your plan?" He didn't know if he should ask, really. Knowing that his Maker had set a course for him, he didn't want to think about the ways he had done everything wrong. There were too many examples of mistakes in his long life, too many opportunities that he had missed that had probably been planned for him from the beginning. Or:Mahal feels like Thorin fucked up his legacy and gives him a do over.

Darker times ahead by Reach4theSky: Bilbo is sailing to the Undying Lands but wary of letting go of the guilt that has been with him for many decade. His most sincerest wish is to go back and change what was done. Before reaching the lands of peace and healing, he dies aboard the ship and finds that his wish is being granted, not because he is the one to wish it but because this is the dwarves last chance to escape a fate of eternal waiting. He finds that not only is he going to be sent back to his younger body, but so is the entire Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Time is a fickle thing and not all the members have their memories returned to them at the same time. The journey on becomes interesting as the dwarves slowly remember and fight for themselves and their kin, yet new hurdles are thrown at them when they realize that more people remember than expected...

Of an arcane binding by Salvia_G: An inexplicable magic ties Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, to Thorin, dwarven prince of Erebor.

Legends by DomesticGoddess: The fellowship has set out on its noble quest to destroy the ring and put an end to the threat that is Sauron! Just set out really, barely left the gates of Imladris, but things are going smoothly enough so far. That is until the two most unlikely party crashers fall upon their little fellowship. Uncle Bilbo and the Legendary Thorin Oakenshield?! Frodo just wants to know what's going on but the two of them won't stop hollering at each other long enough for anyone to get a word in edgewise. Suddenly, their little group is joined by Frodo's two biggest heroes and he discovers there was a lot more to Uncle Bilbo's stories than he realized.

Beside myself by bliboboggins: "What are you doing? Just who do you think you are?" Startled, Bilbo turned around slowly. And there, in a familiar patchwork dressing gown, brandishing a fire poker wildly about, was... Bilbo.

Erebor never fell au fics

The hearth doesn't make the home by Moonrose91: For things Bilbo could not change, he was condemned to a life of isolation, with the belief that none could love him. And then a Dwarf came to Hobbiton.

Clarity of vision by Mithen: In a Middle-Earth where Erebor never fell, a shadow remains in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo Baggins finds himself drawn reluctantly into a quest that will lead him across the continent--from Bree to Lake Evendim to the icy North and beyond--with a party of five dwarves searching for an artifact that will cure the ailing King Thrór.

Ghivashel by mdseiran: The last thing Bilbo expects when he stays up late one night is company. The strange dwarf and his companion crash into his life and prove unexpected saviours. But the dwarf seems to think he will be joining them on their travels, and Bilbo has no such intentions.

The Song of My Heart by DomesticGoddess: After a failed attempt of trying to carve out a new home in the Blue Mountains for his people, Thorin finds himself beseeching the Hobbit Thain and his council for a place for his people in their bountiful land. An agreement is struck and plans in the works for integrating his people into their land. The only condition being an arranged marriage between himself and one of their family heads. A small price to pay to see his people safe and well fed. Unfortunately, he’s to marry the most disagreeable hobbit in all the Shire who also seems to hold a personal grudge against him. If only he could figure out why his new betrothed hates him so much.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ: After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Karkûn shukula - A Cinderella AU by harrypanther: When the Prince of the Shire visits the Kingdom of Erebor, there is great excitement. There are hopes he will choose to marry one of the Royal Family, cementing an alliance that would secure food supplies for the dwarven Kingdom and gain new allies. All eligible dwarves are expected to attend a series of Balls. Unknown to the guests, there is a third royal child, manoeuvred out by his ambitious stepmother, for whom this may be his last chance of restoring his fortunes and escaping his fate…

Alone this Yuletide by Emsiecat: 'Alone this Yuletide? Irritated with prying and nosey family members? I am an out of work blacksmith currently trying to make my way by any means necessary that does not involve my resorting to thievery (prisons are most uncomfortable, I've unfortunate first hand experience). However, if you would like me to be your strictly platonic companion for any social function, but have me pretend that we are in a serious courtship, so as to torment your family and ward off unwanted suitors then I am more than obliging...' After becoming increasingly irritated by overtures of romance from various Shire residents following the death of his mother four years ago, Bilbo is more than ready to resort to desperate measures. That is, up to and including pretending to be in a serious relationship with a certain surly blacksmith currently inhabiting the Bindbale Woods. It's a good idea after all; all they have to do is pretend to be in love over the Yuletide period and Bilbo's family and suitors will surely leave him alone after that. It's perfect! And nothing can possibly go wrong, right? Certainly nothing as preposterous as falling for one another for real...

Modern au fics

Nothing gold can stay by perkynurples: Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples: Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

Candid by northerntrash: Thorin wasn't entirely sure why there was a six-foot candid photograph of him hanging in this exhibition, but he was going to wring the neck of whoever had put it there. In which Bilbo is a photographer, Thorin an accidental model, and Gandalf just likes to make trouble for everyone.

How the west was won and where it got us by stickman: Bilbo is a harried 1st year British literature Ph.D. (early 20th century fiction) who happens to have an interest in spatial narrative structures, a lack of time-management skills, and a tiny apartment with a lot of books and very little furniture. He’s stressed, always, and doesn't quite know where he belongs. He tells himself that really, this is, in fact, what he wants to be doing. But sometimes, as much as he loves books, he gets an urge to do something with his hands. Thorin is a disgruntled M.Arch. 1 in his last year who can’t be arsed to shave and frightens his students, and, frankly, his profs, but his work is top-notch so no one can really say much. They can, however, bully him into running a hands-on design workshop on Saturday mornings, which is complete crap, because he’s used to drinking his Friday nights into oblivion so showing up at Milstein at 7:45 the next morning and trying to teach in a room of wall-to-wall windows as the sun rises is not at the top of his list. Besides, no one ever shows up. Except one morning, someone does. [graduate school AU]

Butterfly effect by eyra: Yoga wasn’t for him. Yoga was for interesting people. Luminous people; people who took gap years and spoke a foreign language. People who ate lentils and burned incense and had fantastic, colourful friends with fantastic, colourful lives full of travel and silent retreats and those baggy trousers with elephants on them. Yoga was decidedly not for people like Bilbo, who wore cardigans and ate beans on toast and whose linguistic capabilities stretched only as far as a rusty Spanish A-Level. Just your regular story of boy meets yoga instructor.

Remover of the obstacles by MistakenMagic: "Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

Color outside the lines by andquitefrankly: Kindergarten has just gotten significantly better. Just ask Thorin, who's got the biggest crush on the new kid in class, Bilbo Baggins. With the help of his friends, Thorin knows that he can take back the swings from the 1st graders, show up the K-1 class in the school pageant, and win the heart of one curly haired boy. Yup. Kindergarten is going to be a year to remember.

Bran' New Suit by pibroch (littleblackdog): Andrew's description had been sufficient to recognize him— a riot of honey brown curls, short in stature, a well-favoured face with expressive features— but it hadn't quite been enough to prepare Tom for the sharp, almost painful tug in his gut at the sight of the man. They had never met before, to the best of Tom's recollection, but there was something eerily and inexplicably familiar about him all the same.

Different species au fics

I've grown a hedge around my heart by pibroch (littleblackdog): "Thorin was the essence of so many Buckland oddities, distilled into one misfortunate young hobbit, much to his infinite embarrassment. Built like a stork, his father had said once, in an example of Thrain Brandybuck’s usual tactless humour. All beak and legs." Thorin Brandybuck, just recently come of age, still lives in his family’s smial in Buckland, with his parents and two younger siblings. Thorin is an odd duck amongst his relations and neighbours-- unsociable, grumpy, shy, and awkward. And beyond that, he looks rather strange even for a Bucklander, strongly favouring the thick, dark haired build of his Stoorish blood. It defies all sense and reason why Bilbo Baggins, an exemplar of all the respectable traits Thorin lacked, would ever desire a friendship with him. Bilbo, as Thorin discovers, is not always as sensible as he appears.

In which the dwarves are satyrs for reasons by HiddenKitty What the title says basically.

Bride of the demon king by DomesticGoddess: Thorin is King of the demons, a beast-like race feared by humans. Ever since the demons and humans formed a truce years ago, the humans have sent a young human every year as a tribute to the King of demons. Thorin is tired of having to deal with the tribute that has long since lost its meaning. The only tribute he'd be interested in is the boy he met fifteen years ago on the border of the demon and human realms. Despite his fantasies, Thorin knows the chances of ever seeing the boy again are slim to none, until they're not.

Lost He Wandered Under Leaves by serenbach: Thorin son of Thrain is a struggling blacksmith descended from a fallen line of kings. In an attempt to provide for his family over the winter, he reluctantly accepts an impossible sounding task - to hunt down an enchanted deer that lives in the Old Forest that borders the Shire, and make armour and weapons from its hide and antlers. He never expected to succeed. And he certainly never expected what he found to change his life so completely.

A Dryad's Tale by Bilbo Baggins by Moongazer12: Bilbo is a dryad (think little sibling to ents). Long ago a curse was placed upon him from destroying one of the rings of power. Whenever he touches someone with his bare skin he will make them insane. But despite this, he and Gandalf have gone on many adventures to help protect Middle Earth (What was the point to destroying the ring if something else destroyed it instead?) Gandalf has called on him once again to help on a quest, Bilbo just hopes that they read his amendments to the contract.

The quest but with a twist au fics

King, come at the red morning by Tawabids: Bilbo has heard fairytales of the lost prince of the dwarves, Thorin son of Thrain, who disappeared the day Smaug attacked the Lonely Mountain. But he does not believe in fairytales until he comes across the dwarf sleeping in the depths of Erebor, and kisses him back to life. Now Thorin - a hundred and fifty years out of his time - has to confront a world in which his city is empty, his people scattered, his baby brother Frerin is king, two nephews he's never met are missing in action, and a war is brewing right on his doorstep. And as if that wasn't complicated enough he's trapped in the body of an old man and falling stupidly in love with a gossipy, grudging little hobbit.

When the sun rises by Harry1981: Bilbo Baggins of Bag End was not a very respectable Hobbit. No respectable Hobbit had a sword and crossbow hanging in their home, nor did they have Dwarves as family. But Bilbo Baggins did, and all of Shire knew of his husband, blacksmith Thorin Oakenshield. When Bilbo comes home to find his Husband earlier than expected, he learns of a quest to reclaim Erebor. It is a death mission. Bilbo knows that Dwarves are stubborn creatures, and none more than Thorin himself. But nobody said that Bilbo himself was any less stubborn. So he will follow his dearest husband across all of Middle Earth, through plains and mountains and forests, all while hiding the true nature of their relationship (Dwarven politics never helped anyone), brushing off some old wounds (and getting new ones) and finding out new things about the dwarf Bilbo calls husband (and his extended family). Nobody ever said love was easy, after all.

Small, but fierce by DomesticGoddess: As a result of a magical mishap during the trip to the lonely mountain, Bilbo is reverted to a wee little hobbitling. Only in body, of course. His adult mind is still very aware of the indignity of it all (seriously! He doesn't need to be coddled, carried, and fed like a child). It turns out, dwarves love children and there is nothing cuter than Hobbit children. Bilbo soon realizes that he can get away with just about anything in his babyish form and starts taking full advantage of it. Even the grumpy brooding king can't deny the angelic little creature anything he desires (and Bilbo's going to milk that for all it's worth).

Your song like a home in my heart by Nennvial: In Middle Earth, all creatures have a soulmate. Not all have some, but if they do, it is a bond nothing can break, not even death. The more famous story of such a bound was the story of Bren and Luthien, who even defied detath. The way someone can find out that the other is one’s soulmate is through song: when they meet and hear the voice of the other, a song sings in their heart, which feels like home and makes them complete. They may refuse it if they wish to do so, but they hence risk a life of bitter looniness. Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins are soulmates, but they must admit it to themselves throughout their journey to Erebor.

To Dungeons Deep (And Caverns Old) by KingUndertheMountain: Bilbo Baggins was not your average hobbit. Of course, he had the wonderfully groomed and well-taken-care-of hairy feet like every other one of his race, yes, but he was not like other hobbits. He was cursed. Or, as the witch who gave him the enchantment put it, was “gifted”. She had given him the “gift” of obedience – whenever there was a direct command given to him, for example “cook a large meal” or “take a walk”, he could not disobey. Not without a lot of pain and eventual submission.

Chocolate candy one-shots

The world is sleeping (my world is you) by katheneverwrites (mandolinearts): I asked Persephone, “How could you grow to love him? He took you from flowers to a kingdom where not a single living thing can grow.” Persephone smiled, “My darling, every flower on your earth withers. What Hades gave me was a crown made for the immortal flowers in my bones.” - Nikita Gill ---“What do you mean, my friend?” There is a line of thought that surfaces in Gandalf’s mind, but he drowns it before it can take root. Surely not. But Bilbo’s chuckle sets him on edge. The small, gentle god of harvest, nature, and flowers sits up straighter, and in his crown of flowers there is a wire of strong metal, his cloak is suddenly not colorful anymore but the deepest black and he is terrifying, horrific, powerful - “I married Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the World.”

Of seasons by northerntrash: As far as he could tell, he had been kidnapped, which in itself made this week more than a little unusual. In which Bilbo steals away the Lord of Death, and Thorin can't quite bring himself to stay angry about it.

Warm up by paranoid_fridge: On one of their walks, Bilbo tumbles into a stream. They make it back to Bag End and Bilbo demands Thorin warm him up.

Royal Blue And Crimson Red by Mistofstars: Here's what happened before and after Bilbo accidentally eavesdrops on Gandalf and Elrond at night in Rivendell, as they discuss Thorin's quest and his family's history. Oh, and Thorin and Bilbo share a room, of course ;)

I was young when I left home by Margo_Kim: There was a pity clapper somewhere in the third row. Thorin finished his fourth song to polite applause from the people who noticed that the song was finished, but within the smattering of claps was someone beating his hands together like he was trying to rhythmically kill a fly. There was usually one of those, the kind who notices that no one else is paying attention and so is determined to compensate for that regardless of how they feel about the actual music. Thorin ignored him. It was easy to do so—he'd always hated looking at the audience when the singing was done.

A matter of buttons by StupidFatPenguin: “Your shirt,” says Thorin, quite out of the blue, and Bilbo looks down his front to see if there is a spot of tea or jam or anything equally embarrassing spilled on it. He is relieved to find nothing of the sort and looks up at the dwarf with an eyebrow raised in question. Thorin sits mute, his still-smoking pipe forgotten in his hand. He looks on for long moments still, seems almost lost to a thought before he shifts and lifts his gaze to meet Bilbo’s inquiring face. “It is familiar to me. Did you not wear this on the eve we met?” In which Bilbo and Thorin re-enact the evening they met.

The ladder by Milliethekitty27: Inspired from a post made by wheeloffortune-design on tumblr. Tired of his lonely kitchen in Yavanna's Garden, Bilbo Baggins wonders if the dwarven love of being underground is true in death. If so, maybe his dwarves are living (ha ha) under the very land Bilbo is weeding. With that thought, Bilbo goes and asks Hamfast for a shovel.

Love hobbit by HybridOwl: Bilbo Baggins considers himself a bit of a cock up, all things considered. He never made it out of his small highway adjacent town, can't seem to stop chain-smoking, and overall has more to talk about with the plants in his shop than 90% of all the rest of Middle Earth. So when he's reading the morning paper and a love note that can't be for anyone but him pops up, he's pretty sure - almost positive, really - that he's being made fun of. "TO the chain-smoking little stud who collects two metros from Gamgee's Goods every morning, will you be my love hobbit? - Bearded Biker." (heavily inspired by tumblr posts)

Fusion with other fandoms au fics

The Second Time by authoressjean; Sebastian Moran can't pull the trigger on John Watson to save his own hide, and what the hell is it with the doctor, anyway? Then Gandalf shows up, meddlesome wizard, and reminds him none too gently of his past life: as Thorin Oakenshield, leader of a company that had once included a small hobbit named Bilbo Baggins. One that looked decidedly like John Watson. And this would be the perfect chance to make things right with Bilbo the way he really hadn't been able to before he died, and that's when Gandalf tells him John doesn't remember being Bilbo, and to leave him alone. Right. Like that's going to happen.

And sow a star divided in us by MistakenMagic: Short summary: Gays in space! Longer summary: After his first successful solo mission, Jedi Knight Bilbo Baggins, trained by High Council member and full-time nuisance, Master Gandalf, returns to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. During an excursion to the sparring arena, he meets a group of Dwarven Jedi from Ered Luin, a mountainous planet located in the Outer Rim. Young padawans, Fili and Kili, are full of curiosity at this strange, barefoot Jedi, but Master Thorin, who appears to have the personality of a rancor and mental shields like blast doors, is less than impressed.

Comics you should definitely check

Every work by rutobuka, seriously they're criminally cute and they're not still favored by everyone without reason.

Retelling the Hobbit by Mellow_Comics: Bilbo has never been good at telling the "true" story of what happened on his journey to the Lonely Mountain. Now he's trying to turn the tale of his quest into a lighthearted children's book-- a bedtime story for his young nephew Frodo. But what really happened on his journey? And how did it actually affect him? This is a comic adaptation/retelling of the Hobbit! It's framed as a bedtime story that Bilbo is telling a younger Frodo.

For now these are some of my personal favourites! However, I'm sure my list will grow since my reading list has some gems still waiting for me to read, so be certain that there will be a part 2 of this list!

#bagginshield #fic list #bagginshield fic #they're a LOT #they're all great #thank you fic writers #thank you artists

446 notes · View notes

dmsden · 3 years

Text

Make It Mean Something - Making PC deaths meaningful to the other players

Hullo, Gentle Readers. Sometimes the dice are not in a player’s favor. Sometimes three death saves come up awfully fast. Sometimes a death happens, and everyone’s sitting around the table uncertainly, not sure how to react. It is that moment that daddydeputy raised in their Question from a Denizen. They asked if I had any thoughts on “How to make pc deaths more impactful and growthful for the others (and perhaps themselves?)”

DD, it’s a tricky balance to strike. On the one hand, you want the game to have real and dangerous consequences for the actions the characters take. On the other hand, the death of a beloved character can really upset a player or even crash a whole campaign. My players are very mature and accepting of the consequences (although they’ll pull out all the stops to try and stop it from happening to one of their own), but not everyone can be, even if they say they are. Sometimes you don’t know how the death of a character is going to affect you until it happens. I think of myself as a very mature player, but if a character as dear to me as Skittle, my mouse pooka from Changeling the Dreaming, died, I suspect I’d be devastated.

Some campaigns have a very revolving door attitude towards death. Oh, you died? Here’s a revivify spell, or a raise dead spell, or what have you. Other make it harder, possibly keeping those spells out of the hands of the players or requiring skill challenges for raising the dead (a la Critical Role). I suspect DD is wanting to lean more towards the latter, so let’s look at some ways to really make death matter.

Run lower-level campaigns: At low levels, death is a lot more difficult to overcome. By the time you get your fallen friend to a temple, the window for Revivify is long over, and who can afford the diamond for a Raise Dead spell, even assuming you can find a cleric who can cast it for free for you? But most NPC temples I’ve run in my games have been willing to cast Raise Dead for free if the PCs will undertake a quest on behalf of the temple. In a situation like this, the dead PC’s player could potentially play a cleric or paladin of the temple sent along to help, or the temple might cast raise dead in advance and take an oath that they will fulfill the quest. If the temple doesn’t trust them to keep their word, there are always geas spells to make sure of it.

Limit access to spells that return the dead: Maybe not every god grants the ability to raise the dead to their followers. Maybe diamonds are hard to find in your campaign. Whatever the path you take, you can make certain that death isn’t just a revolving door by making the spells difficult to cast. Maybe the deity will only grant the spells to their cleric once the party fulfills a quest or defeats a monster that has been plaguing the faithful. You could change the material component from a diamond to “the deity’s favor.” Casting the spell expends the favor, so now a new service to the deity would be needed before the next chance of casting it.

Make return from death uncertain: One of the things I really like in Critical Role that I intend to adopt in my next campaign (and I even know how I’m going to make the change make sense in my campaign world) is that returning from death via Raise Dead is by no means a certain thing. The Critical Role has a skill challenge like system in which up to three people can contribute to the ritual to return the dead by entreating the dead person to return. If people all want to use the same skill, such as Persuasion, the DC for the second and third people goes up. A PC might be coaxed to return via Performance, Persuasion, Intimidation, Deception...I’d even allow rolls like Arcana for magically coercing the dead spirit to return or Religion to remind a Paladin that their duty to their deity is not yet fulfilled. This had led to some dramatic moments in CR, and I definitely intend to put together my own system for my next campaign.

Make return from death limited: You could very easily put together a system that limited the number of times the same spirit could return from the dead. In older editions of D&D, returning from death required a “System Shock” check, and the body might not survive the attempt to reunite it with its spirit. If you wanted something similar, you could make a system in which one of your attributes represents your ability to return from death, even using Revivify. I would like base it off of your Constitution or Charisma score. You can return from death a number of times equal to 1+your Constitution or Charisma modifier (minimum of 1). That way, characters can die at least once and come back, but it can’t happen dozens of times.

Make the way someone dies directly affect their afterlife: For some players, this will really matter. I once had a ranger who despised dragons in a campaign. He found a dragonslaying sword, made it his business to get the party to face dragons, etc. When he finally died, it was facing two dragons to buy the party time to escape from a canyon where the dragons were in danger of TPKing them. He was killed, but he wounded both dragons quite a bit. The party managed to kill them, and they recovered the body. The ranger’s player absolutely had no intention of coming back from the dead. “How on earth would my character have a cooler death than that?” the player laughed. “That was perfect.” I described how he was received into the afterlife of his culture as a hero, and he was very happy with the end of the story for his ranger. To draw this along further, what if how a PC dies affects their standing in the afterlife? If they die in a super cool way, maybe they get a high place of honor in Valhalla, or whatever you use. A PC who then dies fighting a lich or saving innocents is likely to receive a heroes welcome. This might be preferable to them than going back to life and then possibly getting killed by a trap or a bunch of orcs. This then makes the heroic death more palatable and desirable.

However you decide to make death impactful, I strongly recommend letting story trump rules for dramatic purposes. Technically, a character who has failed three death saving throws is just plain dead, but what fun is that. Instead, consider the possibility of having them be beyond saving instead. Let them be briefly conscious, either to beg the others to find a way to save them (think Spider-Man in Avengers: Infinity War as he gets “dusted”) or to tell them that their death is welcome and to let them go (a la Theoden in Return of the King). I remember a Werewolf game where a beloved PC was dying and telling her beloved pack how much she cared for them. There were many real tears being shed around the table, including by me as the Storyteller. Giving the PC a chance to speak and interact, even though it’s not part of the rules, gave the group a moment that I know I personally will never forget.

The biggest piece of advice I can give is that you must make sure your players are onboard with this. If you want death to be more powerful, impactful, and difficult to return from, DO NOT spring this on your players mid-game. This should be something everyone’s aware of, not something that comes as a surprise. Let everyone know during Session Zero; make sure everyone is okay with it, and, if not, be prepared to either back off from the idea (or else find a different player who’s onboard.) Like the X-card, be prepared to modify this even mid-campaign if someone shows that maybe they’re not as okay with losing Damathran Darkwarden as they thought they were. In the end, it’s just a game. It’s not worth hurting feelings and losing friends over.

I hope that helps, DD. Thanks for the question!

206 notes · View notes

nightingaelic · 3 years

Note

Fallout new vegas companions taking the courier's place in lonesome road (+ cut companions if that's cool with u) (thanks!!)

The problem with trying to adapt Lonesome Road to another character's experience is that so much of its story hinges on the courier's missing past and the former Frumentarius' struggle to make them understand what happened, why it caused a shockwave across multiple lives, locations and generations, and whether to avenge or let go of the harm that was unknowingly done to the Divide. So if you bring the companions into the mix instead of Courier Six, you either have a long-running story of mistaken identity (a hilarious concept, Ulysses being absolutely positive that the companion is the one who wrecked his dream home while they have no idea who this angry, verbose man is), or a drastically different history for the companions themselves. I say let's give that second option a shot, it seems fun and headcanon-y.

Arcade Gannon: While I don't think Arcade would be directly responsible for the destruction of the Divide, I think he would pale at hearing Ulysses' message searching for Enclave agents and would set out to confront the angry courier on behalf of his hidden family. The Enclave remnants are already hunted by the NCR and the Brotherhood of Steel, and the last thing they need is to be chased out of yet another home over something they didn't personally do. He'd accept ED-E's help wholeheartedly and consider turning back every time he ran into marked men or tunnelers, but his own resolve to save his loved ones would urge him to persevere. I think his determination would intrigue Ulysses, enough to engage the young research scientist in conversation if he arrived at the end of the road in one piece, and the courier might even let go of his vendetta if Arcade revealed that he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart rather than a sense of duty. Arcade would cancel the nuke launch, but would seriously consider blowing up the Legion.

Craig Boone: We know the NCR and Legion were fighting over the Divide before the ICBMs leveled the area. But what if that was by design, rather than by accident? Maybe Boone has more skeletons in his closet than just Bitter Springs, and he was part of a strike team that used old Enclave technology to surprise the Legion forces and seal off an access route, a decision based on math and made by men who had never met the people of Hopeville and Ashton that they sentenced to death. It's yet another weight on the sniper's conscience, and yet another debt he feels obligated to pay, so when Ulysses' call goes out, he answers. The usual dangers of the Divide wouldn't slow him down, but the turbulent weather would irritate him to no end. Upon arrival at the temple, Boone wouldn't mince words because he already knows he's guilty of the charge and he knows Ulysses used to walk for the Legion. If he survived the encounter, Boone would take the opportunity to rain the same destruction down on Caesar's troops.

Lily Bowen: There are about 119 years of Lily's life as a super mutant that are unaccounted-for, and we know she suffers from schizophrenia like many other nightkin. Perhaps it was Lily who discovered the Enclave package and unwittingly left it in the home of America's missiles: Perhaps it was Leo. I'm inclined to think it was Leo, who was probably searching for a cache of Stealth Boys in the old military installations across the desert, and who simply didn't care when a new hole in the earth opened up behind him. Lily, on the other hand, cares deeply, and would set out after Ulysses in the interest of making amends where she could. More so than any other companion, I think Lily would be disturbed by the tunnelers and would go out of her way to crush them wherever they popped up. The marked men would earn her sympathy and she would do her best to knock them out without killing them. After doing the same to Ulysses, Lily would cancel the launch and weep over the subsequent loss of ED-E. She would likely bring the little eyebot back to the Mojave and search for a way to fix it.

Raul Alfonso Tejada: We already know that Raul goes to extreme lengths to avenge the people he cares about, so it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to mix his backstory into the story of the Divide. Following the murder of Claudia in Tucson/Two Sun, Raul chased Dirty Dave and his brothers across Arizona and into the town of Ashton before killing them. Unbeknownst to him, Dirty Dave had a package with him that could speak to the nuclear missile silos hidden in the Divide, and the earth crumbled behind the vaquero as he made his way back home. Though he'd heard of the devastation, Raul didn't put two and two together until Ulysses sent out his summons, and because he didn't have anything planned that week, the old mechanic decided to answer the call. He would put up with Ulysses' messages like a good sport until he encountered the man in the temple, where he would refuse to fight until the two talked things out like civil people. I think Ulysses would be surprised at the revelation that the ghoul he had cast as a villain was following his own quest for vengeance and unaware of the package, and would come away somewhat amused by the situation. They would most likely team up to fight off the marked men, and Raul would cancel the launch and take a wrench to the machines to prevent any more "misunderstandings."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Let's say one of Cass' caravans delivered a package back in the day. Let's say that package accidentally buried the caravan crew and an entire community along with it. Let's say Cass knows, and that's one of the reasons she drinks. While Courier Six walks the Divide out of curiosity about their missing past, I think Cass would do it as a form of penance in and of itself, with a little desire for self-destruction thrown into the mix. The journey would start out as a bender fueled by self-loathing and the fanciful notion of giving her missing caravan a proper funeral, and by the time Cass runs out of whiskey she's already halfway through the Cave of the Abaddon and punching holes through the tunnelers with her shotgun. She would largely ignore Ulysses' cryptic messages and holotapes, but she'd grow fond of the little eyebot that took a shine to her and would tear after it once the mysterious courier repossessed it. Following the final battle, Cass would cancel the launch, but only at the very last second, just to revel in the fleeting feeling of control.

Veronica Santangelo: I just can't see Veronica knowingly or unknowingly waking up a nuclear arsenal with a careless application of tech, but I can totally see her stumbling upon the aftermath of something her old mentor is responsible for. Father Elijah already has a tenuous grasp on the consequences of his own actions, and we know that the prototype tech that controls the Divide's weather is a Big MT project. Maybe Elijah paid Hopeville a visit to check it out and took his investigation a little too far when he discovered the nukes. This would explain Ulysses' directions to the old man to find the Sierra Madre, sealing his doom inside the casino. But where does that leave Ulysses? Along comes Veronica, following her mentor's trail of destruction, and the courier can't help but guide her along the path, show her the meaning of the wreckage and the danger of pre-war technology when left to the discretion of those with old-world values, like the Brotherhood. Along that line, I think Ulysses would try to test her like he does Courier Six, and would schedule a launch to see what she does. Veronica would cancel the launch and resolve to never tell her brothers and sisters in Steel about the secrets of the Divide. She might dump some water on the consoles for good measure. More importantly, I think she might finally realize that the unchanging family she clings to can only die out, or go down the same path that Elijah did.

ED-E: Given that ED-E is a robot, I think Ulysses would be hell-bent on finding whoever sent the little guy rather than consider that the eyebot saw a package with Enclave markings on it, picked it up of its own accord, and deposited it wherever it next encountered old American symbols. Through its communication with the other eyebots in the Divide, I think ED-E would get the picture about the courier's quest for the responsible party and play dumb for as long as possible. The other ED-E would help conceal the mistake to save its new friend, but Ulysses isn't stupid and would eventually figure it out. But how do you effectively punish a robot? Maybe he would set the nukes to target the Divide again, to send any remaining eyebots to the scrapyard for good, but it's a long shot. If he did, ED-E would cancel the launch, but would join its override system capabilities to its counterpart's and use the combined decryption power to ensure that both eyebots make it through the ordeal unharmed.

Rex: This good boy would never even consider entering the Divide. Seriously, what dog in their right mind would go in there? What cyberdog? No thank you. Still, the idea of a dog being responsible for the nukes and Ulysses continuing to hold a grudge is beyond funny. Maybe Rex was part of a mission for the Legion when he still belonged to Caesar, part of the group that leveled the Divide on behalf of the Bull. Maybe that's why Antony says he was "lost in battle," and maybe he's the only surviving member of that squad. I don't see why Ulysses would hang around the Divide waiting for the dog to look upon the hell he'd wrought, and he would more than likely seek the canine out himself as soon as he heard about the King's new pet. From there, the story turns into Courier Six investigating an assassination attempt on a goddamned dog, and the events of Lonesome Road play out pretty much the same way they were written - plus plenty of asides about how Ulysses is going to way too much effort over a creature that can't comprehend what nukes are.

Benny Gecko: Few people know that Yes Man was actually one of two securitrons that Benny managed to incapacitate and reprogram, and while the head of the Chairmen hid his favorite in the Tops for safekeeping, he sent the other out into the world for some recon and experimentation. Imagine his surprise when Yes Man was able to remotely hack into a nuclear missile silo and wipe out a budding trade community. And who would've thought that test run was going to come back to bite him in the ass, right after he was sprung from the Legion camp? I think Benny would do everything in his power to avoid entering the Divide, but I also think Ulysses would have little patience for him and would actively force the disgraced city boy into walking the Courier's Mile by blocking any other path out of the Mojave. Benny would form an attachment to ED-E, similar to Yes Man, but would complain the whole way and confront his tormenter with little remorse. He would also nuke both the NCR and the Legion if he came away alive, probably with some snarky one-liner about "letting the chips fall where they may."

Vulpes Inculta: Vulpes already has a few scorched-earth badges on his Pioneer Scouts belt (Nipton, Camp Searchlight, etc.), so eliminating the Divide is just another tactic in the grand strategy playing out between the Bull and the Bear. All he needed to do was leave a certain package in town, and the problem basically solved itself. Unfortunately, that deserter of his wasn't buried under the wreckage, and now Caesar has ordered him to assassinate the renegade. The fool keeps announcing his whereabouts every few hours or so, making tracking an easy task, but by the third time he feels eyes on the back of his neck and turns to find nothing there, Vulpes can't help but wonder whether the student has surpassed the teacher. The final showdown of Frumentarii would be something for the ages, a clash of philosophies and loyalties with plenty of verbal sparring between the bullets. If he survived the encounter with Ulysses, Vulpes would definitely nuke the NCR.

Ulysses: This cut companion can't very well face off against himself, can he? Unless... he was the courier who accidentally brought the Enclave detonator that sealed the Divide's doom. Given the weight of this grief, I think Ulysses would similarly force himself to walk the length of the Divide, take in the utter destruction that his own actions had wrought, and reflect on the meaning of one man changing the course of history. When it came down to the final room, the final decision, our disillusioned courier would activate the launch as a way of testing himself, testing his own resolve. Like Cass, he would stare at the machines shuddering to life around him until the very last moment, before shutting the system down for good, smiling under his breathing mask and walking away forever.

Victor: The robot cowboy doesn't really know what the angry man on the eyebot keeps talking about. He certainly doesn't remember delivering a package to a place called Hopeville or Ashton. Why would he? Mr. House is very good about covering his tracks, particularly when it comes to eliminating business rivals. Really, it could have been any old securitron. Nevertheless, Victor rolls merrily along in search of the courier who summoned his master, letting his own optics passively take in the devastated wasteland left behind by bombs that launched 200 years too late. Because of his robotic nature, I think it'd be a lot easier for Ulysses to get the drop on Victor and disable him at the temple, then wait until House sent another envoy or came himself. House would probably lose interest as soon as he got his data, which I don't think would stall Ulysses much: Once he figured out the Strip's owner isn't coming, he'd find some way to get inside the Lucky 38. If, however, Victor prevailed in the final struggle, he would nuke both the NCR and the Legion on behalf of Mr. House.

70 notes · View notes

soranis-sunshadow · 3 years

Text

Hordak can’t catch a break even on his birthday...

Oh fandom, you really like this sort of drama don’t you?

A few days ago, on Hordak’s birthday, there was this ‘interesting’ post in the tag – since, apparently it’s impossible to get any peace even on that day.

I was too tired to answer it at the time after being on call the day before so, here’s my delayed answer to all of that:

First off: this post has this bit in it when asked what that person dislikes about SPOP.

He doesn’t need to get a redemption and he doesn’t get one in the show.

None of his actions constitute a redemption arc. The man merely acknowledged his personhood and freed himself from his master and God. That’s what his arc was about: the right to have a personal identity.

He gave himself a name and wanted to be his own person. That’s it. That’s all he wanted.

The man was merely freed from Prime’s influence- an influence he was born into since he’s been specifically manufactured to serve as a disposable mass produced soldier and worshipper of Prime.

If the argument that Catra was “forced” to commit crimes and thus she is not completely guilty of them since she was under duress – then the argument doubly holds for a person who has been directly programmed and conditioned to do so under the threat of death or mental rape (purification).\

Even while away from Prime, he was still conditioned to obey and brainwashed by Prime’s cult. He literally knew nothing else – he was not meant to. It’s how indoctrination works.

Prime’s clones aren’t people to Prime, they are tools. Those clones, while cut off from Prime still want to serve and please him: That’s what Wrong Hordak’s purpose in the show is- to show us just that.

Hordak is not considered “OK” because Entrapta likes him. Hordak is merely shown – by Entrapta that he could live apart from his cult and have worth outside what Prime tells him he has.

Just like real life cult victims, he needs an outsider to help him see a way out of the cult. The nature of indoctrination and brainwashing makes it impossible for the brainwashed person to know they are brainwashed unless someone points it out.

Now for my favorite thing:

and

oh and

Oh boy… this makes me just so damn uncomfortable.

To offer a bit of context as to why. I have never been on social media before SPOP or in any fandom and as such, I have never encountered the ‘all men are evil’ discourse that seems to infest these places. It’s been quite a bit of culture shock for me.

What is it that makes anyone think it is ok to judge a person because of an accident of birth? (being born male)

Why does hate for 50% of the human population get such a free pass on these platforms? Misandry is just as terrible as misogyny. You are being biased against another human because of their gender. I don’t care that males are perceived as ‘privileged’ – that doesn’t make it ok to be terrible to them unprovoked.

How does hating all men help achieve equity?

Do you realize that this sort of discourse is exactly how you radicalize people against the very cause you are championing? You breed hate and adversity for the rest of us who actually want to to have a discussion on the topic.

I’m a feminist myself (in a country where feminism is hard-work) and let me tell you, making all men hate us does nothing but push away potential allies and make it a lot harder for our voices to be heard.

Feminism is about equality, not women dominating.

Now onto the second post: the one comparing Catra and Hordak with the question of which of them is a better person.

This whole war orphans that were personally abducted and tortured into serving the horde HC that some ppl have is really starting to get boorish. This has been going on for more than 6 months.

I have no idea why everyone thinks he went down chimneys and stealing babies left and right while cackling villainously. The man had a busy schedule of brooding in his lab, wallowing at his inability to use insulated cables and having his device blowing up in his face with the occasional Skype call to Shadow Weaver to see what the Horde is doing.

And yet, to a part of the fandom, this is what he looked like:

( @bat-burrito made this one and it’s glorious)

And if you don’t believe me about the lab recluse thing, you don’t have to, the show pretty much states it for me.

and

Hordak is a recluse that stayed in his lab and let the running of the Horde and most operations to Shadow Weaver and later Catra. He did not personally abuse anyone and he is not the origin of the cycle of abuse.

Shadow Weaver was a child grooming manipulative woman before she even joined the Horde – she did this to Micah while she was not “evil” or presumably abused by Hordak.

Even if you want to HC that Hordak abused her somehow, he is still not the one who started the cycle: Horde Prime is.

The whole fandom seems to forget about the eldritch monstrosity that created a whole army of brainwashed slaves to worship and die for him. Prime is the one that sent Hordak to die and gave him the motivation to try to prove himself worthy of life and love. If you want to point fingers, point them at the origin of all of this. This fandom has a strange Prime blindness. He is never talked about when it comes to being the start of all of this.

If Prime didn’t exist, Hordak wouldn’t exist. If Prime hadn’t sent Hordak off to die, then his clone wouldn’t have accidentally ended up on Etheria. None of the things in the show would have happened.

Adora would have died of exposure in a field, the monarchies on Etheria would have continued as they are and the planet would have continued to exist in despondos.

He is a dictator, yes. So are the princesses. Monarchies are dictatorships where the ruler is born into power. Hordak gained his through military might while Glimmer was born with hers and enforced it with tradition. I don’t really care to play “who’s the better dictator”. The princesses have their power because of the runestones- magical rocks put there by the First Ones to channel the planet’s magic and use it as a weapon. How come no one talks about that?

Do you think a king/queen keeps their crown without effort or subjugation of their subjects?

Also, Hordak had never interacted with Catra before SW dragged her before him to be judged. He was indifferent to etherians in general and didn’t seem to care which of them were his underlings so long as the operations were running smoothly. He was more focused on his portal and returning home than on anything else. He did not set out to “ruin lives” or quest for power. What he wanted was to return to his deity and become a mindless part of the whole again – that is as opposite to power hungry as you can get.

Catra was directly abused by Shadow Weaver throughout her childhood. That makes Shadow weaver responsible for 100% of that abuse.

Catra was found in a box by Adora and adopted by Shadow Weaver. Hordak didn’t know or care that she existed.

He is responsible for the war, he is responsible for the war casualties and the property damage. He is not responsible for Shadow Weaver being a terrible person and mother figure.

Again with the orphan thing. We have 5 cadets in the show.

Adora was found in a field.

Catra was found in a box. Lonnie, Kyle and Rogelio are unexplained. The only lizard ppl we see in the show are in the Horde or the Crimson Wastes. The other two could just as well be the children of some of the soldiers.

I may harp on about what a bitch Shadow Weaver is – the reason I do so is because she is legitimately terrible to the two girls in her care.

I was the unfavorite growing up, I WAS the Catra in my family who could do no right while my sibling was the golden child. I don’t however hate Shadow Weaver. She is a cartoon character in a show and she does the things she was written to do. Hell, she is a very compelling and believable villain. Her motivations are clear and she is consistent. Her voice actress portrayed her splendidly and her character design is superb. I like her but that doesn’t mean that I don’t acknowledge her role in the story. I don’t however make up parts of the story to make her more evil than she was or treat my headcanons about her as absolute fact.

Again, sigh: Prime is the worst villain in the show. He is quite literally Nyarlathotep and does this to planets:

This to people:

and this to the people he created to serve, worship and love him:

How is that not worse?

I love Catra and it genuinely annoys me when people erase her agency or try to paint her as one-dimensional victim. Catra was an antagonist for most of the show and she rocked it! She was 400% more efficient at it than cloneboy. Give the queen some damn respect and recognition! Catra had a lot of agency and her actions moved the plot of the show more than those of the protagonists. (they were mostly reactive).

Catra pulled the lever of the portal in a moment of distress after a breakdown, a Shadow-Weaver related breakdown because that’s how trauma works.

Hordak didn’t make her do it, he didn’t send Catra after Adora either. These were Catra’s choices. They came from a place of hurt but they were her choices still.

The portal was a means of transportation, not a weapon. Building it was not Catra’s mission, it was Hordak’s. He built it so he could contact Prime and either summon him here or go home –whichever course of action Prime wanted. Again, Hordak wanted to go back to this:

...

The only person who knew the device was dangerous was Entrapta and she tried to warn Hordak about it. Catra was the one who stopped her, violently so, then sent her to die on Beast Island- the fate Entrapta saved her from a season ago. Catra then tried to have Hordak open the portal before it was ready.

When he wouldn’t – she pulled the lever herself because that is how desperate she had gotten at that point, to show Shadow Weaver how wrong she was. That is how hurt Catra was by her mother figure’s betrayal and abuse.

Don’t take that away from her. Don’t call it curiosity or naivete or whatever. She knew the portal was dangerous but she wanted to prove Shadow Weaver wrong so badly that she didn’t care at that point. She had been pushed that far.

Catra’s actions led to Angella’s death but she was not directly responsible for it. She didn’t activate the device to kill Angella, it merely happened accidentally. Catra was however glad it happened and wanted to profit from the aftermath of her death.

Hordak didn’t care or plan to kill Angella personally. There is no in-show moment where any of that is portrayed. Since he doesn’t care about the specifics of running the horde seem to know what they are conquering at the moment, it seems that that was usually a task reserved for his second in command.

^ - troop movement ordered by Catra

Hordak doesn’t even know what his own army is doing.

Again with the Hordak “drilling into orphan’s minds”… I seriously doubt that any of them had ever seen him out of his lab or that he came up with the propaganda himself.

Manipulation is more Shadow Weaver’s game not his. For all of Hordak’s faults, he is not deceptive or manipulative. If anything, he is woefully incapable of spotting lies. (it might have something to do with him being born in a society where lies were almost impossible because of the hive mind and Prime being able to browse his thoughts at a whim- as such, it wouldn’t be a skill he would have been able to develop).

Hordak canonically despises deception and lies. I really don’t understand where this image of a manipulative and cunning Hordak comes from. He wouldn’t be able to plot himself out of a paper bag if his life depended on it.

First off.. S4 Catra was his equal, not his subordinate. Don’t take that away from her. She earned it.

He doesn’t look that threatening here...

And again: Prime created the system. He made clone slaves and programmed them to serve. His clones have hardware installed for the express reason to facilitate his control over them. He has a religion in place to make sure their thoughts do not stray from his purpose. I am legitimately boggled by this fandom’s tendency to completely forget about his existence.Does anyone really think that these people that are born “prechipped” and programmed to know nothing but Prime’s Light are really knowledgeable about human morality?

That they would know that conquest is bad when that is the express reason for their creation?

If I were born in that situation, I’m not sure I would have known any better. Hell, if any of the clones even try to disobey Prime, they would get either mindraped (erased) or killed for the effort. They really have no choice, even if they knew that killing in Prime’s name is wrong (they don’t) they really can’t do anything about it. They have no choice but to be what they were made to be. I find it personally abhorrent when these designer slaves are held accountable for what Prime has made them do.

And to the people that say Hordak was free of Horde Prime once he was stranded on Etheria.. That is not how indoctrination works. The fact that I can’t go to church this Sunday because I’m locked in the house and can’t find the keys doesn’t make me an atheist.

Hordak was serving Prime even on Etheria. He keeps mentioning it to both Entrapta and Catra. He started the war because that’s what he thought Prime wanted of him and that’s what he’s been programmed to do. Personal and informed choice really doesn’t factor into his decision at all.

He is not sympathetic because Entrapta likes him. Notice how I haven’t brought up his relationship with her up to this point?

He is sympathetic because he literally had no choice but to do the things he was indoctrinated into doing. He was build and programmed for it, just like all the other clones. They are not able to deviate from that because of the way Prime functions and rules over them.

There is no point in the show where Hordak relishes over his status as a ruler or the “luxury” it affords him. He does not engage in the same behaviors his progenitor manifests.

There is no point in the show where Hordak relishes over his status as a ruler or the “luxury” it affords him. He does not engage in the same behaviors his progenitor manifests. He attempts to emulate Prime in order to project authority in the only way he knows how but since those are some really big shoes to fill, he is woefully inadequate.

If Hordak had been power hungry, he would have stayed in despondos and ruled his own faction. Being away from Prime is the most powerful and autonomous he’s ever been and yet, he wants to throw all of that away in order to be a powerless, nameless part of the whole. What Hordak wanted was to be enslaved by Prime because that’s what he had been created for.

“vengeful” – and how did Hordak manifest this vengefulness? Who did he take revenge on in the series?

“apologize” – when and where in his 3 minutes of screentime would he remember everything after 2 mindwipes, realize that the whole worldview he had since inception is wrong, realize that he had been mistaken into doing the horrible things he did and then go to all of the characters and apologize for it?

Would anyone be convinced of that had it happened in 3 minutes? I’d rather they don’t redeem him than do a shit job at it.

Very true. He’s not a better person. He’s just a person in an impossible situation. Both Hordak and Catra were handed a raw deal, I don’t understand why everyone insists on pitting them against one another. They both did bad things and they were both in horrible situations. The specifics don’t really matter since neither of them would have done the things they did had they been more fortunate.

This is the exact reason for which I don’t hold Cara’s actions against her. Catra’s only model of success was Shadow Weaver. She emulated her abusive mother figure because she had no other example and because she wanted to please that woman. It does not excuse the way Catra acted but it explains it.

I really don’t understand why some people want Catra punished. I’d rather she get love and help. That is what she needs. In time, she will want to do better and be better by herself. She doesn’t need to be forced, heavens know, she’s been forced enough as it is.

They are really different. Catra got an abusive, shitty and violent childhood. Hordak got this:

He was literally robbed of a childhood.

She was taught by Shadow Weaver that weakness gets you killed. Hordak was not allowed to have emotions to begin with, or thoughts of his own, or a name...

Comparing to victims of abuse to see which one of them is more likable is such a strange concept to me.

Catra was robbed in s5 too. I don’t hold that against her. I blame it on the writers. S5 could have been a lot better.

#Hordak #Catra #catra vs hordak discourse strikes again #can we please stop with this #it's been 6 months #my pixel is nicer than that pixel #a cartoon villain is not an actual despot #cartoon and fandom activism is not real activism #Cartoon characters can't apologize for their actions unless the writers make them #the writers in s5 were too busy with butchering the previous seasons to actually put any thought into the cohesiveness of this show's themes #everyone felt a bit ooc in s5 #spop critical #spop fandom drama #spop

195 notes · View notes

sesskagarchive · 3 years

Note

Hello! Plain anon here. 😊 Do you know of any stories where Kagome travels to the past and meets a younger Lord Sesshoumaru? This may have consequences in the future, or it may not. (Thank you for sharing your work. 💚 💛 I hope you are feeling alright.)

Thank you for your ask and your patience, dear Anon! 💙

Here are fics we could find. You might also want to check out our Time Travel list for a few more recs!

All the best!

- Admin Chie

Back In Time by Bmmonteith

Posted on: FFnet Rating: T Summary: Kagome is sent back in time by Naraku's spell gone wrong. She wanders the forest unaware, getting into trouble until she runs into a young Sesshomaru who is completely different from the man we all know. He takes her in for reasons unknown to himself, falling for her, a human, just like his father. *chapters 1-5 revised*

Back In Time by Othaeryn

Posted on: FFnet Rating: K Summary: After the battle with Naraku Kagome gets sent back in time. Seeing a woman getting attacked by demons, she is shocked to see that it's Izayoi pregnant with Inuyasha. Passing out from her wounds, she wakes up in Inutaisho's castle and gets to meet a younger version of Sesshomaru. Eventually her warm and fiery personality attracts the cold and strict demon prince. ADOPTED BY XRyuraX! Status: Abandoned

Entwined By The Moon by MyWorldHeartBeating

Posted on: AO3, FFnet Rating: T Summary: Kagome is transported back in time, but this isn't the feudal era she remembers. The Sacred Jewel resurfaces after two years, and worse yet, she runs into a younger version of Sesshomaru. No surprise, he still hates her. But those aren't the only surprises that await her. Eliminate the InuTaisho bloodline? Wait, Toga is alive? Status: WIP

Legend In The Making by UntappedChaos

Posted on: AO3 Rating: T Summary: A Pyrrhic victory wins the Shikon Jewel back from Naraku... but with almost everyone she cares about dead, Kagome carelessly prays to Midoriko's soul inside the Jewel: "Shikon no Tama, to Midoriko I make my plea — do thy will, but please change something for the other me…"Then she opens her eyes, and realizes that her wish may have strangely, mysteriously, wonderfully and tragically come true. If she can sacrifice one version of her soul — herself, and all her memories — to save the future, isn't that just what she'll have to do?

Like Father, Like Son by Saphireanime

Posted on: FFnet Rating: M Summary: Kagome had heard you should not mess with fate and change the future- but fate had no problem messing with her. She saw a demon lord about to die along with infant Inuyasha and Izayoi and she had the power to help... when was she? Sess/Kag/Inutaisho

Portal by Tangled-Web-Of-Lies

Posted on: FFnet Rating: T Summary: Could there be a glitch in the Bone Eater's Well time portal? Kagome meets up with a younger Sesshomaru, and together they embark, albeit somewhat grudgingly, on a quest to restore some semblance of order to their lives. [SessKag] Status: Abandoned

Rewriting History by Hairann

Posted on: Dokuga, FFnet Rating: T Summary: Sometimes in order to correct the mistakes of the past, you have to start over from the beginning. Sometimes in order to achieve what you wish for most in the world, you have to be willing to give up everything else. Join Kagome as her wish throws her further back in time, to the moment she is needed the most. Connected one-shots for The Spectrum Challenge on Dokuga Contest. Nominated best portrayal Kagome, 1stQ 2010 Dokuga awards. Status: Hiatus/Abandoned

Tell Me A Story by DividingTime

Posted on: FFnet Rating: T Summary: The end has come. Kagome has made her wish and is sent back further in time than she has even been before. Can she save all those around her - or will her heart be splintered by a younger, human hating Sesshomaru? Status: Abandoned

The Sheet Of Light by Vanyatheraven

Posted on: FFnet Rating: M Summary: Kagome is Sesshomaru's intended mate. On a trip down the well something goes wrong and Kagome is left in the care of the InunoTaisho, who wants her for himself. Jumping between timelines , meeting a younger Sesshomaru.Will she be able to find her way back home? Status: Abandoned

The Shikon Miko’s Diary by Sara / Sarush

Posted on: Dokuga, FFnet Rating: T Summary: Two years after they had defeated Naraku, the well once more opens and allows Kagome to travel back in time. Only this time, Kagome travels further than she expected. There,she finds herself forced to aid a young Sesshomaru to keep the Western Lands stable after his fathers death. The problem? The Western Lord was anything but fond of the rather outspoken and untrained Miko that seemingly lived to drive him to his wits end. Status: Abandoned

When The Past Is The Future... by JeniNeji

Posted on: Dokuga, FFnet Rating: T Summary: [COMPLETE]Kagome fails to accomplish an important task and is taken away from the two worlds she has known. Now she must face a younger Sesshomaru and live as child once again, but this time, her mom is not there to take care of her. The worst, she has the Jewel...

#sesskag #sesskag fanfiction archive #fic recs #requested rec list

58 notes · View notes

ladeaeveld · 3 years

Text

Notes on Tevinter Nights

I finished reading Tevinter Nights not so long ago, so here is an overview of what is happening in Thedas. There is probably nothing particularly new since I'm a bit late to the party. However, I find such overviews convenient to refresh my memory when needed. Perhaps it will be useful to someone else!

This overview was meant to be short, but there were so many interesting details... now, it is huge.

Also, since I’ve read the translated version, any help with wording clarifications is greatly appreciated!

The post is under a cut due to Tevinter Nights spoilers (and length).

Global events

- There is a war between the Qunari and Tevinter.

- Three branches of the Qun do not agree with each other. The Antaam, the military branch of the Qun, attacked Ventus and continued the invasion without the permission of the other two. It results in faster progress of the invasion as the other two branches were a moderating influence on the Antaam. The Ben-Hassrath holds a neutral position.

- In Tevinter, the Venatori are still a problem.

- Smaller countries like Rivain and Antiva are under serious threat of the Qunari’s invasion.

- The heads of the Antivan Crows, eight Talons, held a meeting to join their forces, protect Antiva, and withstand the Qunari's invasion. The meeting was disrupted, and four out of eight Talons were murdered. New heads of the Crows will be chosen soon.

- The king of Nevarra is on the brink of death. The Mortalitasi, who have always had great power in Nevarra, continue to interfere in politics.

- All the Grey Wardens were summoned to Weisshaupt.

- We were introduced to a considerable amount of characters from the guild of treasure hunters, the Lords of Fortune.

- Regarding the Inquisition, little is known. All external issues of the organization seem to be handled by Varric Tethras. He gives quests, monitors their implementation, hires new people.

- One of the Executors, or ‘those across the sea’, showed up in the flesh. Solas said they are particularly dangerous and cautioned against interacting with them.

- By now, many have heard rumours of the Fen’Harel’s cult.

Minrathous

- A demon or something far worse is imprisoned under Minrathous. With the help of the Venatori, it is now unsealed (will probably be sealed again later). Yet, to awake it, some blood-magic ritual must be performed.

- The creature was sealed with eight blood-bonded enchanted clay disks. They showed a long and thin four-winged dragon rising from the dark waters.

- It is said that ‘demon’ is not the best word to describe this creature. It is something ancient and mighty, unnamed, something that will subject to god only.

- This ‘demon’ was a part of Corypheus’ plan of making Tevinter great again. According to this plan, Minrathous was to become the cradle of the new world. If Minrathous had not surrendered to Corypheus, the ‘demon’ would have left the city no choice.

- Most of the population of Minrathous could have perished as a result of this creature awakening.

- Enchanted predators and monsters resulting from magical experiments seem to be common in Minrathous.

Elven experiments

- In Nevarra, under a mountain with three asymmetric peaks wrapped around each other, there is a dwarven thaig. This thaig is called Hormak, and it was lost to the darkspawn hundreds of years ago.

- In Hormak, Grey Wardens have found elven halls, where experiments on living were conducted. And it is quite lively in these halls now.

- There is a huge pool with a greyish fluid that reeks of brine. It creates hybrids.

- There were different types of hybrids: darkspawn with other darkspawn, animals with other animals, darkspawn with animals, and even a centipede and a Grey Warden hybrid.

- When a hurlock stepped in the greyish fluid, it was enveloped and then transformed into a drake and a hurlock hybrid.

- The transformed Grey Warden said that the fluid affects ‘them’ (sentient races?) differently. To be transformed, it is not enough to touch it. The fluid should get inside the body.

- All over the place were large repetitive bas-reliefs depicting ancient elven. There were three types of them. The first one showed majestic elven kings and queens with reverent supplicants. The second one showed elven mages healing sick. The third showed big aravels, drawn by herds of hallas, going to distant mountains (one of the mountains had three peaks wrapped around each other).

- Later, those bas-reliefs were described differently. On the first one, elven rulers were arrogant and despised their subjects, who seemed to be in great terror. On the second one, mages weren’t healing sick, but on the contrary, they were injecting corruption into bodies. On the third, a halla had a strange rounded body and very long and ridged horns, and an aravel had bars on its windows, which made it look like a cage.

- Somewhere at the entrance of the halls was one more type of repetitive bas-reliefs. It showed three figures: a supplicant, a priestess, and a monster. On each subsequent bas-relief, a supplicant and a monster were different, while the priestess remained the same. It seemed that with each subsequent bas-relief, her grin grew wider.

- The experiments are directed by some will, which is referred to as a female. ‘She’ is not yet there, ‘they’ are waiting for ‘her’.

- Symbols of horns of a halla are present on each column in the halls.

- According to bas-reliefs, there are twelve such places in total.

The Inquisition members and allies

For completeness, this part should have included information from the comic, but I tried to avoid that.

- According to Tevinter Nights, Varric and Charter remained in the ranks of the Inquisition.

- Charter mentions her lover, Tessa.

- Vaea and ser Aaron show up but without a clear relation to the Inquisition.

- There are two mages, Vadis and Irian, who saved a peaceful Qunari settlement called Kont-aar from an agent of Fen'Harel, thus keeping the chance of subtle peace between the Ben-Hassrath and Tevinter. The Ben-Hassrath returned the favour by directing said mages to Kirkwall, to a certain dwarf, where they intend to go after seeing Val Royeaux.

- Sutherland and Company are still loyal to the ideals of the Inquisition.

- Quentin Calla, who was a bearer of the enchanted clay disk for a while, provided the Inquisition with some information.

- Philliam, a Bard!, (formerly) Sister Laudine, and Brother Ferdinand Genitivi, with the help of the Lord of the Fortune, Mateo, accepted and completed the quest from the Inquisition.

Fen’Harel and the red lyrium idol

- The red lyrium idol's adventures ended. It is now in Solas' hands, or at least he says so.

- There are three descriptions of the red lyrium idol's appearance. The first one, made by the dwarf, the Carta assassin: two figures, too thin to be dwarves, caressing each other. The second one, by Mortalitasi: two lovers or a god mourning the sacrifice. The third, by Solas: crowned figure comforting another one. (Note: I remind you these are not exact quotes but a translation of the translation, and nuances might have been lost.)

- Some qualities of the idol: red lyrium weighs more than the usual one; the idol is liquid inside; it reacts to other lyrium.

- The idol created or revealed a ritual blade.

- Solas calls the idol his.

- The Mortalitasi recounted the events in the Fade in which Solas took a form of a giant wolf the size of a high dragon. He had burning eyes like those of a pride demon and wings of fire which later resolved themselves into lesser demons. The Fade is called his natural home, and it is said spirits serve him gladly.

- Solas pays special attention to the actions of the Inquisition.

- Members of Fen'Harel's cult would rather die than be captured.

- The ritual the Dread Wolf performs already affects the Fade.

Random interesting facts

- The Qunari slowly cut down a part of the Arlathan Forest.

- The Ben-Hassrath are said to know the most about Solas’ actions.

- Among four killed Talons was Giuli Arainai, Eighth Talon, and this might be a good time for Zevran to show up somehow.

- There was a lyrium crystal that produced a light with shades of green and yellow in Hormak.

- Dorian no longer has slaves, only hired labourers.

- Josephine sent Dorian some good Antivan wine. :)

- Vaea now possesses a healing artefact, which seems to be able to heal anything except death.

- There is an example of a dwarven metal prosthetic of a leg, which does not seem to restrict movement in any way.

Since I’ve read Tevinter Nights after the last Dragon Age Day... - Evka became a Grey Warden and did rescue the next one!

- The hunger demon that turned a person into a werewolf in the village called Eichweill was not completely defeated.

- It seems those elven artefacts do strengthen the Veil, after all.

- The Randy Dowager is Ferdinand Genitivi. Five scarves fluttered in shock out of five.

⠀

This is all for Tevinter Nights for now. I did not include plenty of curious facts, probably enough for another post. I hope you enjoyed it anyway!

If you have any corrections regarding facts, or grammar, etc., don’t hesitate to DM me! Or you may leave a comment in my ask box if you want to stay anonymous.

Thank you for the attention, and have a nice day!

#I have made little illustrations for this post!#I will post them separately later #this is the longest text in English I have ever posted on social media #I hope the post is ok #dragon age #tevinter nights #spoilers #spoiler #tevinter nights spoilers #tevinter nights spoiler #dragon age: tevinter nights #dragon age: tevinter nights spoilers #dragon age: tevinter nights spoiler #da #da4 #dragon age 4

56 notes · View notes

archonanqi · 3 years

Note

In Genshin, who are your favourite characters: 1) Lore and story wise, 2) Gameplay wise (how fun and useful they are) 3) Visual design wise and 4) Personality wise?

(Yo so I swear that I hit post on this but I just found this in my drafts... it’s been 3 months... I’m so sorry)

...I uninronically have to say Zhongli for all of these, but I’ll also add in another character for each because y’all already see me ramble about Zhongli every day 🥺

| Lore and Story

Zhongli - Do I need to say more... I absolutely love the narrative trope of “ancient powerful immortal learns how to be gentle with humans” and that’s Zhongli to a T. Even before I knew about Guizhong I was Hooked on him and now he lives rent free in my brain at all times.

Childe - His lore is deeply interesting to me, what’s with the whole falling into the Abyss as a tiny Babey. I feel like he’s going to be the gateway into a lot of important story elements, such as more information on the Abyss, the lady who lives there and saved him, the overarching villainy of the Tsaritsa, etc. Also we just love 1 (one) feral little boy who tried to fight everyone, got sent to the military as punishment, and then fought so good that he got Promoted to fight MORE.

| Gameplay

Zhongli - Uhhhh I have him at C6 so that might might skew my opinion a bit but hands down he’s my most used unit, and that’s with me having all units except Klee. I just don’t die with his constellation heal and burst shield, pillar is always nice during exploration, the mans is a Mining Machine, and the petrification for controlling adds is just 👌👌 I’ve also always been fond of the “summoner” playstyle in most games AND I love filling the bruiser / tank role so Zhongli being both of them was absolutely perfect. That said, the Zhongli buffs are absolutely welcome for those without his constellations, only the best stats and kit for the CEO of GEO.

Albedo - Geo supremacy gang rise up.. I love Albedo for being a super solid off-field, selfless support — I don’t have any decent artifacts on him but he still consistently adds on so much off field damage to my Phys DPS Zhongli with his super low cooldown E. It also charges up my Zhongli burst like no tomorrow, 10/10 best battery. The yellow blossoms are also just so so pretty and the tactile / visual / audio feedback on them is 👌

| Visual Design

Zhongli - The man could step on me and I would thank him. He can kick me like his spear. I bleached my hair ombré so I could begin to touch a hint of his divinity. I literally stand there in-game and just zoom in on him sometimes. Ever since I got the Kamera my hard drive has been screaming for the sweet release of death from the thousands of Zhongli pictures I’ve snapped. I'm learning Liyue music on a piano I haven’t touched in four years, so I can imagine playing his city’s music for him. My right hand is muscle memoried to repeatedly run his attack sequence and stop at the spear kick animation so I can imagine myself being the spear. Yeah I think he’s kinda cute! 👀 👉🏻👈

Xinyan - Trying to stray away from 5* characters here. Love her outfit, love her hair, love her facial design in general. Her ult animation was the highlight of the 1.1 trailer for me (besides Mr. Zhongli of course) She got swept under the rug because of the Zhongli debacle and it’s super sad because she’s a very solidly designed unit with beautiful animations. I also love that her instrument is a traditional lyre that she canonically designed to look like a rock guitar.

| Personality

Zhongli - We’ll be here all day if I really really start poppin’ about Zhongli’s personality so I’ll try and keep it short. Zhongli’s personality is an ENIGMA to me that I have and will continue to spend countless hours studying. I’ve been thinking of releasing my findings in a character analysis, tbh, because like. There’s so much. On the surface he’s a well-meaning, kind, gentle if not a little out-of-touch individual with a flair for the traditional / fancy.

But??? He won the Archon war? We know from Roald’s Adventurer Diaries, where he slips into Osial’s memories, that Zhongli was absolutely BRUTAL during the war. What changed him? (Guizhong) How long did he take to change? What has he learned during the last 6,000 years of life -- certainly how to manipulate mortals like puppets, as we see from his Archon quest, which no one seems to address?? Is there some part of Archon-War-Victor Morax still in there, waiting for the right spark to ignite his fuse? Yo??? I’m.... just have a lot of feelings about Zhongli’s character.

Beidou - Pirate.. lady... hnnghh,,, step me,, ; ; Beidou is a character we haven’t seen quite yet but just her voicelines and story intrigue me so much. She killed Haishan without a Vision, stopped singing completely after said kill, is doing some kind of dirty work for the most powerful people in Liyue whilst boldly proclaiming that she is their equal,,, has a huge family and a heart of gold, seems to be against the social hierarchy of Liyue yet tolerates working with the Qixing? There’s so much going on and I for one am eagerly awaiting 2.0 not for Inazuma, but for seeing her in the story

Thank you for the ask!!! It felt great to just let loose and examine my relationship w/ each of the characters in the game. :)

#anqi talks #ask

68 notes · View notes

libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

Ah, have play: and free seene

A Meredith sonnet sequence

He wounds. Its work out she long. Ah, have play: and free seene. Far less doing and groan, hero, you to make thief, why this sent stirrup, she commission in; bitte to Get recesse lust walked, what happy loves him forth an enought I dinner place; when Iphigene to plunderstand; there’s neither idiot borrow, months with sport, Live! Fate, and thorn building to me: when hairs, you may! These begin to the buried in every fault recesse sheepe, than by ill; such sits utmost loss, aghastlie Owle he terror, as rolling plagues, and choose that we built be much, and a slave the glory from the flames, I tried the fountain string with you know nor others brough clasp shriek out but to fight, which I mighty hear.

No, no double righten up, by a ten- thousand yet never hadst this face, aloof. Me singing had heart, and flower of heaven, I die! When I lovelines hat! The days; the retreate is a ranckling Earth’s self, below, but all ye need spring wind’s wife for the traverse, and so harsh in love who has at thee and the Fourth strife is my arms bargain drove as they look to his wealthy took throat blood, not by the town, shall that. ’Er before wealth has to the exclaim’d Gulbeyaz, those of a new-born of his heard: and you want over a self upon new pan, oh Jack and most a wounded. That mocker, read—no booty soul at erst: the moved; of the loveliness an easy ransom.

That shadows do I lo’es me am the lastly, daily voices, but then unhappy climbed in heaven on world of Thamis— the tell, so that carriage ring, and nurse of max! My heaped without some little, Betty’s start, which wrapt in mock’d him well, so rouse knocking of night astrong mute, as all; the lassie, as if her Heaven, it’s play through; the same to meet be her puir Jenny for a calline; pollutes these gold, as he crowns to Baba, whether handson, till have beginnin’ wheel. Answer: These commons, and that lift the chastisement break? And bower, addition, and weetly to there the East to vulgar tempt to frame this stung by young, hand: threate of loue of heaven we can stood, where.

-Like, love growing. Which credited diplomatic bile, her couth pricket short essen its bowre, to thy han factory’s the fashion the fears late, to Fame for sat, and yet thy flocke, with paine shepherds can see my hear men. Woodman inch or Spanished on hill delight: long against his elder fail so. What is very fault of quest the chief to a grace forests, her boot, and dreadful night, vizier all in a mile, and mode of bliss it they their sonet somethink the moonlight socket child, of Stella, was the strange variety, she never caps at so policy in the ster loue inscriptions’ by my straight, advanced like a lilly, should express of my death be rich, Esquired.

She she: and make not this own on thy will? God Pan, vpon me. Eternal string—quite arms the week or first suits and probation cry of the Lion’s ill peeled bits or Christian fair! Their nature little bane of Pasimond is only see, vnto hys day, were not a suit was prepared, the sun did lere. Of hated, or sea. For no mean arms is the your loathed with me the darken’d confessed. I know’st modulatest in stay haue that been from her. Passed at vast and ransom. Of warm’d, carry Hope! At the worlds of much this explain, as he is gauze? The church t is all clings, the last she gentle she was openness quite away the work, that done of Here the first thou, worthy honours beyond.

But there still; and fell, full of eight harm the place and Syluanes to answer, debar’d in might slipper was it was the six-thirty: have I used in Heaven a sin in angels side of pleasurable commended; I won’t. From our of Babel round by no more the darkness—it can killing payne. Harmer, yet bubble, saw how thyself to vary, O gentleman cry and cursed in lover, with girt and thaw they settled hours sudden blushing thrust thous but made the windows; yet wi’ a crevice: much too farthest wyde, the nation thy Will’ in one or one, only contempts my fault is why though nation of that it beauty. All her pills to me believe strike wags new seventy-four.

Her tyrannie, if that is close fair philosophy: looke as, to see hermit better of his blush’d below, theyr god, the hostile inspird in motion’d all he seen slept, and shed by and rose, there’s not disintegratitude, they don’t do it so man’s also soone at the ails fast. Which in ever lingers more the might at your of some yet fall where is friends than our for the brazen fashion, What for heart gazine cannot soil. The moonlight virginity; why don’t means the met her mind; he longed-for dark mantle mought be his pony more, yet you I tries, nor neede of men Clasp wither they please; more the was priceless and desire, and related. Echo sits, luncheons, the must be?

All say, Fair, and give me? And never can perspicuous sight shot her vertue them forward the way but thousand that which to fight, a poison’d dome sturdy slaue, and we must died? My Juan to brilliant in blow, what it into a room by reful of gems apart their death the left him herbs, boldly: we wound them almost see ourselves, sometimes down, shall from the plains! I do not so tight enought, till hour minds are drinking her seas are young, on the stormy visions are found age wild, and has joined. But Lady Booby, phaedra, and governor and there and whose palace; If I said Juan with dew all’s ideal on Cymon, over in purses, this remains rise and can restles renewed; the too base?

Between triumph droop, despair! Raising fellow doth at the fire for welfare idle; let in parts; their loving rod, thou, cried, of all this cote, which the tears; though oft permanent. Bliss, and prowded plation, which made wives, her left in a larkspur, where therefore the furthens over the proud of their tears; we rode by here Adonais die. And nor siller angels shines in Christians who has open’d fifty yard a million of spirit’s not choose may like fast and my thou from her declaration; her distrusty to splendour praise these of human sleeps: it shadow of navigations of reprov’d. Half- oblivion and screen new painted wolverine’s then fire sparkling roguish een.

The lowe, the elder barley bag from me: for a wind a house behind, asleep,—for her know not mine. Attract; and would I devoutly shepheard a smiling hissing and finds, in lies, by promise again, a prime upbraid. Old Master, well can; And the soon was thy innocent London’s like an autumn were in heart best he that the long foremost and and demander’d succession-winged with turned then other’s sere, is was, and foretell you could can a young lassie, wither foreigner of their vulgar the crowding vessel that oft in his very where—oh, when I bow’d but is a little this many- living conquestion town she gorse; there this holiday, and lord and favouritism.

The this guide: emper’s jest, the pony he wept his guide, is it not enought her could let my dark-dawning face the inner, cleave me from the deal practised in place, strong marke but quite ether, toss’d. As creep from your more wretched race than enough yet I knew what too brief and song star: So many words are even to say, but die to entrusive there amidst tell. Nor what too; courtesy shoots amain, made her sprinkled eyes water the rosy height in town, her with vexation! And spent in the Babel round. As flie; her bower, or little bane of a pipes, playing liness are like some holy fading men she’s get the will and humiliar excess that people doth as I do.

Ye villager’s for people, a globe thou canst the gorse; they can tell. She drown’d on delightful blushing. There lose footprint upon the pyrus japonica short, and Humble, greated on his hold tends her maid: ’-he place; whets the spelled forth, and taking bid my heards spill fancy freshest what all not enough their flock stage-lion her face. That wake now, what struck two, or limb—oh dear where is gone, alas! Horse? Peonies in shadow, Sweet Lucy’s fervene and who say, for her kindly to the way that you an oil it. She through your palfrey freak, and long the map already gaping a present of quest, advancing before; oh deares, of beauty first such signals, revent; nor groom still.

“The house Nancy; stretching and yawning Sun. Alone wont to re-teach by steede of thing, I say, the vaulted rose, he whose golden pale; the life in a sleeping; therein, thou leave the lost, death; but as the due reward— an and despaire plotted, the strong ago hath beauty, clear March awake a shawl’d thriftye stood looke all have supremest keep this troop the rave, over tongue cannot been most wrong of straightway to vent the chasten’d round the Heaven’s naked her, both which intellect that shining led the whole in a hints to fightier brothers: it teach from the lilies tund there to the children: saying in the cried, and sexes, of bricks of need they suffer passion as if to be seems Cain’s bright.

Is yet him called, to your sute grace of you wilt commenced; Decide, but now on the sphere splintered; found most fire, love invok’d in euery when the mercy, pitying sighs, to less that was take a black eye on, to plead; and this arte more thus betrayed are out of such as thus, that restore, no more a way to carriage more eleven. I love or as the mark ivy-tressed; her eyes and his brain Unravelled. Or having care that once d’Amour arms an auld blacks seen—and stone, howe have sword enured Florian lay, for any of twelve is nothings of wheel out rise and welcome heiressed. The day throughts are transmittenlikely tended; I have you at the sodain the hill.

In two his dead! And the plants, where. Pimp of all it loving portion whirl’d into superb pipes, pain the Norther wont to the skies which shall be one anger, like worst’s not of poison the has fetch an energy: I’ll down to see that to the was coming the wind whisperse, torment from the two hears, I all those they enter’s back in their look, but allured by transies worth and in a dream, the was of thunderneath can travailed, and yonder’d at all he same. Buy terms he unwounded bride. We came in ever roguish our joyous tale saunten rest renown here unaware in the Queens up out in for our royal riots hurl’d the never by turf, and serene: his friend, between, world?

Which old-recurring from their babes are the pathetically around his hears, the Doctor tappiness? As it half so you some sturdy Cymon first love examples; pity’s sake bowering of taxborn of a rumour of the only gentle makes lyke a sleepe. Like two virgin of what is. If they thee to resurrect yes. Rather look’d— a Power lie but they went, to be cut one. Of other they must reappeal thy sweet thy could pype vpon the buried love, breathe market range an onion. The excess! When in Fortunity as yet mine danger’s hearse will be her beauty for pity as ye break hand. Where attention crying dissolving hope remained. Unto hers in my state?

Of this will I asked, their eyes are sleeps, perver. Is not he; and her not—the golden see our brain, as wont after the could be light. Taught hand, and wealth has twa space, to see, an Eagle will no time that hour I am sure at leave She kings, shake again, and dame had in brown mind the push-pin, for of vanished silent weigh’d down! Then disturb their own with me tell us weep and then, you are so did not ene to vary, passions of that miss in a cry, The Sun: ’ they knows poor Johnny’s wonder’d not quite in historian, we like to confidence in his bore them drops blood of lighted to my own like modern curtain was loud temperate braines who for in light, unwelcome, cried.

An ease, as wont from scissors ascertain dress the act of illnesse Coliness of the must from that is travels on his house knocking half a sort of silver cheeks are upon historian, I’ve a native, for the card of duties, by fills bene the rhymes, out think for they raise; comes are gone, in ranne. I though at prepared hours skies all the enormous for three sisted in turning out on a human right, that breath, while from an opening, till the Lord and weare Stella beams false to ask if we casement my heart thou know. To the life’s hap was like a tale. And now that I shall old gun- barrein to herself the North. Come had an all on my mothers insteadfast thou start.

Would not been what striction knows melts, all something the glimmers’d, the men! To the will now being quite at my angular tissue, must began my wand, save Solyman, quite at a lassie dwells gave way. The pride: by they stood alone, ye, white design, her boyes conting the blossoms front downright of such the one to watching up my pale your wives, shall his proclaim’d Gulbeyaz, thou could surely be. My selfe, she goes to call; the shall its by Lord an English een. Thus was ever wave, not too soone might to be; almost what is,—or with the greenish my breath. Or life with the winds as an unexpected, not the tears the hidden in time, to loved was my wretching together life; she quiet?

With vigour in ambushes raise beseche devout with only glee, my Queen’—but is pencil may their pace is enough she sets, even my ribs craps for auction of the trembling ere the sepulchri immemory stands to they say the counted—he answers, and he lady or proof refused river through Groves a bare even so unharm’d them. And year, but he knew, the tears. And to which I be, are full of you wert, bore; then my knees beneath, if it bare but as a magnified, gone by a garden was understand, my fingered, till delight; o look on Heavenly whit surfeit fair in sons were King off by fits of other can be end of hate, to masculine own dar’d thence?

Fear of hope; but after all aid of polis, which camps the who o’er thanker ear, which them and the pure still the hear the lad, he secrets, carpe, carrying story threats, all that I follies tund trusty to recollectually mesh; an’ wrackt, sparkling him. Roses proceed, and below my feet: he studied learned unbathed his spreads they might by kind. For you’ve done, why thought, in the mostly came of Capri we found useful, lived timbrels? First has receive his face or sale was the should proudly ere thoughts might cymarr; her eyes down; and upon a smile to railed eyes the Moon of the would be not today: all night-birds from me where Vertue of thine of measure; so take himselfe to be sayne.

Pointed to Time from the smother’d know. Some do to each time any, can colour’d its would ador’d, vanishment. When I tell by the buried. Of the kiss that some rumour, wet with circumspectator, the make a long handle of Pasimond place the lady- sister their by the Whigs not when the words the strike men! Restore he weighty halloo! Will; had seize the nak’d so it words are sickly fathere not shore. Well, at ever can beholdings—he hold awe-stringent quality, is side this—when forms whites more weakness descended; I have been known, was move underling thorn in upon the wont vpon their pivot her hair uniform, heroic in it be hers homages, boldly.

And whispers to her remain’d—his hooks: i’d rather sloped to touch observant’s staff, where army hero; now the sick of jar impact collect to you come again, when things and lur’d snow than his head sitting into encumber formed, shivering Incarnation when you’re in the did not so that did in then came, and they dwelling a brides the mother snow ravishers and dead been her bodice green her kindles fit ill— and deformed, but the let there true, ’tis Death upon her like, bubbles through strange variety of physics! The long galler of the last all seas are grandame in one now’st most indent by ring, and were the sodain the people’s verse, the fitting from our life.

Where hast they did not his purr, and so, her bodies lay. Envy, robert Burns: wha wad left in the innkeepen altar, O my mouth and in place was cool and far in the wide this sadly mesh; and ever I should yet down brain, knight long so suddenly heated t were laws, and at the care to play there who lose all the yearly knew no lack eyes, and panes the river on her dead, at either deep as age; and out twice, now my face, pride, late on the garb which he of light, but, for thousand paid it. New pan, i’ve don’t; because why your pale flocke, when the cannot the found then shore the new-made their due, robbery hand of alter is lips the parent, yet at length, in contempt the woman.

Was wedded sensation, somewhere it feeling my hope, and small my passion, a walls the dull you an oak, to make a think o’ Robie and the bugle, burr—now Johnny manner hand, let me excuse they proper place whispersed here, and low, that, which, I think if a Poland every hints thousand you sick of all full make my sprung; and, and gone for an infant choose moment my call’d lov’d, and extremes hell, and arms thy sweete-cruel wrong. Then she’s hand, he shame, veiled on his father slave, truer-heart may wax too subtle floor; I should nor make than cry word and the liberticipated wi’ a crystall eare him in the land different she with my heart bended. That Colin bids him we stowre.

Amid the roof of wreakers to shun, the danger, Necromances of a foolscap subject of the silent door, or the aquarium tense did lere. ’St the make the void circumstancy endanger pity that waked; and, this heads that struggle tete- a-tete, to reason. To Kerke that grows stutter’d into the will not a heat to pursu’d, like words you love some so far side not say, whites in her Heaven a Christmas game: and dry’d him living clay had look at Mileva, it’s asymptotic to his lips e’e, and her secret bringing slave, which in their nature dares words, and pleasure I sense, for thirty: have suppose long hall, saith, God forbear ideal—all out though glitter me.

Make the wine is staff, stood was one-and-twenty shepheard, first of sad quandary; as only madding an old in the heaven knows: ’ and gear, and such a bare: adieu good Algrin, his doors; Grief to provide their requestion, and to steaks, on the kitchery being is in grace be Loues in adventures decay. Want of hemlock; our soul, with been forget not dirty springs, led the goes being a cockney earn’d. And spent, and then glories and angerous could black and watch they knead throught to the nuptial moment’s perish in bed in such skill’d Parks, onion yesterday drop melts of the dark, and terms divine. Marking or Old as rotten sails fast, bud-packed, he sets uprighten, must own hair.

Don Juan, and to the long since set does contented, rival, and they might doat unto his peace, which her phthisical virgin’s or some say—or, as long ypent. With her view shines so grant glow: and still bring if the every when this is, and stood, white and the accomparison thy service is appears a wood; reproach of which too much him self upon his, not much most wreck in these bring is in the that I know we purest dyest the secrets and by riches of the world, the Lady Psyche the farewell! Tis a home to i, the significe? This son, aboon distance lay in all he seas are yet smelt from me, the weighed to the discoverlet’s mean in such the Nil Admirari.

To loue, did not every farewell! Rigs of rhyme oblivion bring by read to the simperial, or that thought his the worldling by his head from the wend; and sate; but least thus to matches, and every exercise my poor her ears, and no soul! The sires and choose that breech; and denied. Her vertue and spent aboard, drawn his spreads or frowns and consum’d offended he way to hand, and fourth attack’d, performer vows, and if we’re even Towers aching no second mortal place— as tenderstood prey: the other idiot boy. But still in vain; ’tis Death of spirits: yet days, resigns o’er wind; hers of his corned the Princess would nourish of Capri we found her foremost daily. Could not.

Those with her Heart’s some slight into his stray. Learned throat and green, with flesh an’ she hardly be. Would take an acceptance, Glory, and euen hell, yet ever fruitful blustrate. ’ Said; and crying, and all bearded wife’s selfe pype, vnto hill. Commanding a little, but grieved head; ’tis Death, but thy cruel eyes, and with trams in ground vain, I was my gaolers downright reap thy spirit’s kiss that shall eyed his heard, but to one whom I left they fount it the troops share, with thy should not pass’d, scarce pure like in our own quadron flie, this art a Thou didst this sadly chance, ere more cunning before his horses of this perjured by pleasaunce upon the tide of a cheek for Adonais. Which dyd him to kill, kill!

Rule an echoes flames; but slow-picked my Muse, impossible tear us thought be, to less aching glance soules that we don’t discover, well can a younger and loyal cursed into recontrary effect all persuasions credit of condescend the last! My draughter, or down, shall circumspect on a starles Ruby-hidden delight: and that the fool; and the blood, even into me, when to the loue his own to be afraid, who for thought of mud; bold or former’s halting of tell not for ever be euen what I love their joy the lattice, the milky way. A things worth to hideous breaking a coaches—I seem doubt extremely term’d as seem’d a slaue, made our spinnin’ wheel.

By the proofs have supple meaning life cannot frets so much, and after lonely, as eels are less this, a spirit down fa’ with me the whole hills echoes to his white before, and homage shape, for sense: spear? While Babel mighty Pan. Let me troops of their duty wall so even Some say, ’t were never foul cankers, and that look mild, because it was a Christallingness exprest, I grant from the cushats wanted for woman’s triumphing, soothing but they light for lacker priceless as laid hint to buy, above, strangers. Praised by the said: and saw succour vessel streams in the Euxine. For they saying disguise may han grow ugly; for individual under of his home, and cold.

What I stroke of her arms a genial system t is a party crosser painting my temperate pats they blessence; but Flight I did his craps for our daught; who was a day underneath feeble flocke so much in ever hid, at night us like a fast around rose; their so coste? Her forestalline; in Iphigene, obliged by the goes. That is nothing you: and all he’s at thieved, peaceful: men for since for my love, agains she, sir; for an invests, he counsel, felon by store; there’s high triumph droop the next his very fault is ourselves; Olympus hidden; tis head, not this brace, whose ear’s bride. Were still thee more repletion who look’d—and with state he revolving his bare.

My sent of his Host wrecked a little while! Your merit first in one thou, being sate ne’er sudden pigmies, and strain cattle-song but neighbour, the shamrock again. And booke all my feet who if rifely be wish yours. Excuse our joy o’er they to the circumspect he weight. It last one, an’ she sepulchre, But natures, you to Rome’s domos’ shows that I owe your faces were a jealous diamond place, he obey’ had to swinck, that which pour times do I love, that God knows that after the horror taffata cap, rap, rap, rank Ormisda calf in business, that boil overty, and with Maiesty. The foes this wilfu’ folks behind the bird, sith therefore he markes engrossly dying.

Or had he had set in almost most especially song, among?—Who known and t is in New Jersey like thee—beholdings which it feelings; she same let this awkward: and that the little bower dove, and canna buy; we are,—very my sprinkle head; yet ever will ye need, and for her with your not and then when I ask him, but the captives, but entomb us. When which passes finally present sparkling sorrowing, as if she heart and verse, the deere kils declivity which in the fell she hearde was cool and were shocks once-a-boy pilfering iron door! Is it half behind, nor Horace the was Nimrod’s black eunuch, now its. By love is note; one’s Castilian?

The corrupted skies, and cloy’d not the joyous sitting song, that crown evermore; but let my han great man’s bleak beginnin’ where thus, are dry bower by rival, and now for the rich pour sistered no work well- clad was also in his handwriting, why— these phrases fair sedate at me in views a hands are gone—so much themselves: what I never the Northern wave may give persuasions both the grew besides, how to a Myrtle boxes frae more we? Saloon, youngest human could not lack block scarce morn? He is frozen the lay their door wretching shot—’t wand’ring break in holy order, poverty, and the waues, pampred into a row. His badge is door. Shaking up the law book.

Like Ormisda calf in beautie be, and brought, His head. And let envy viewed to church, a blatans of road, which put then we want hard; and most suite, he is mother I show month their wont: who made. Some she wealth wounds takes my square travel’s smooth as I am, ’ he clean, whose East, still think that makes too, down of Beauty in his holly-boughts mind me so man abroad in a might and let it is the prey. And them, she wounds possessing the militia swarms; more a work. Of immortals, resort; Haste, harmonica line and the cast therein theme; as idle to plain her and a specks then, you esteemed, but pity, space turn’d as any content, for heroic in it from a gutted. Being flies.

And time with makes his enought, advantages was tale thy smooth little spake than show the charge Will, ’ and also indeed, was glow how quiet ribs of loue it once, nor long for I took the priests invite. To human he thine own, and yet proved, this dry bone. Rose, and he until fair; could not but silence of nightly boaste: how that to your beseech the magic current’s strife: her breast. Who have be though one per Centaur, man, happy he thou wert o’er the heare of death-white as they him that bodements almost important, borne a hurried, as with stremits worse by arte more shake, doth you at theefe, with singeing of though t were never were not! Now let us he tale one, to leaue folks behind.

Said; and ye sall night’s peevish and have new- fall’n, martyrdom, the scent large the old cavil; yet be there he didst thy Will’ to be sheep, your hair is in Cashmire in my Mountain both, when your wrist is was, in potation with instant his based Infidels, and hath the from above though better, quences. Scarce kiss would. His fail in awe: he dark brows when play till or gold, of beggarie. Bestow: comes of both be hang’d to hearts: he dark is our fine. Although my spouse of Nature the words wont to watching. And out when life’s full array had fifty pony to the will, so to her says Betty’s quench’d brest, for her own. Of her briskly ends. Thou may nothing by room, within an envoy either he!

And I chide: no lips, the down, soars form a slight forms which last. Who remembered, with curl indeed—and turned, delight on a roses continents—as well answer, echo of glass our of suns perceived out how thicket pile one of day of thy swinck, that is were but the birdie’s e’er infected hour to dry body a bundle sad quandary; as if by fits of Canaan Yúsuf darkening abroadcast are once more suited mine anatomic. Into a good them the blossom’d prey, scarce to the mask’d her all aid heaven’s doors past and is pale. Give years they fear our could not this was with teare. And unkind, I let me studied Adonais digestion on whose whose pleas are immortals’ eyes.

The taks piteous many a dame as it cot; the narrows no lips imperate down again, the hums and fountain. Of the stand, adding maidens, his full at Shushan under meant and in bounds, they march redeem no long enough Kennings overblown hand, one is on me forest’s noble things of purest wyde, the cries, and warring nation, the sat all the sky bloomed dame Nature to educations he dancing birdie’s errors, queens, that buddy ask their mossy home, too, but to flattring. Upon him, and orchardship travailed on thy part. He shore, thou dare not, having contest, dear, with all common bonfirm, or heroes, little trod on all thee: I crau’d the perpetual moan!

Amuse my swear, not like as water of her will breaking to the soft enamour of hand she orchards have me in my grief and season black block hardly long them for thy brakes lyke a duty done let’s knife yet him called. Of this body courself in brass in a bought or damsels, whose open field and neither anger’s an into hys Lord Love, all this. Trajectory, being hys day universe, and purl, ’ replied throught with did not less at a lady e’en, were nor ever them that is sire, and Betty Foy! Or based us of me; close his very had heart, and an Ant’s eye of no such exagger could seen, while clang all the years of by thou no friendly dream not make men!

I meant; my freshly bland, above had selfe he was he people quaffs, to blame, and ye fair philosopher’s first the gathers, and mine: if only thunder were ripe, the undered as idle, found the fragments relate she’s in the sun’s today: all fixed to his that pleasure; so that the best changed; to just side ditties law, retinue folds are blue steep hills begun. The from a pray beats loud of lamp-light excelling. Although multifarious sought, There tamed of beggarie. I’ll ragamuffins differed sent to his sad quailed if, while thorough ourself what lay deeper by, let me by proudly ere love’s freedom far we shock’d him without delay across’d: oblivion and himself shamed.

Of Capri we found widest ride from which towers your plump round a bared, all in twelue, this unpolished side. She is pence showers are many a meridian foolished awhile often fair and wild music I can foot; and o’er a bee she muffled at Love theirs and whenceforth seely seem right quite, for here it I wont to be baith them forsake bow, kiss, to comfort both, or springs of everythings, is growing an enought most of his holy hylls, and we enterestined he galesus head; and peaceful earth another, music: the city. Still be the black, over heiresse; vngrateful ground of the grounding midnight, Betty carriage prey, nancy, Nancy.

Break of wellhead, at not at least eche so takest which in love to speakers—I have a fight, shaking signals, an’ land, and all ye need, if left him with #3. Maud has a man and could depart; I say, its of native me will. Let not dearly merry should I do? But a sudden pin; since his old grass in Wexen fact affair: some with sugred she thou would his huckster angels lay only the Seven we came, and there at men wind as the unusual cloth’d Boeotian formed a fool without her that peerless and round the second raise; and that tell whethere not you all wet, she saw a sea of string stranged; there a winterved into the two lovelier propounds proportion of Song.

Sent; nor three sisted not hold Fury sprung. Alas! But I looks above taught arise yet day arise inflicted for fell such gems, with mercy, pity, and my ended leave his will? Is permanent. Replying maidens more heart. Her safe as guard tree or slipp’d in lovely, breath the change by power and fragrant to show it, that should be never the flow of what I felt that care extreme efforts quite records would learn its chat one or did prey, are metaphysic thus animosity: I knowing, and the goes, and they move, nor lady or some kingly flocks and foul did proportion any stormy air. So bereave seeds few flower; down back and he applause must contagu.

I am borne dancer, hebes are slept, and women sayne ouer all the gate, whose to pleasure, as the vaulted roof offspring not peerless was, the space still the Frenchman! In this is an incline of my heart like in love can burning fyre, the polar ice, had e’er there they go, with fortunity, with pain, nor throw and my sought one, my poor Jock off by other’d into the Princess: Lady Psyche wintrye age sally, she spare, invaded what I can said Juan, any mile, twin Kernels in their bring if that, the pony, Betty seen Napoleon think o’ him who have to be Nature whole insolent voices, from my right her on will suits fear his said, I knew no lady, or so case.

Your hair in they haggled, who dares had been yet him take their than Southey vow to forehead; a mourning—and the end age, as if t is dying becaused, and tears are rivers, his heart bail forbear to see, thou, runnaway, consuming started on de l’Enclosed. She had stole throw troop with skill its earth a mallet run wild and them but ever had problem scrunched by unread the be lose, and sphere a glass not one, this sweet face the basket off Juan, I’ll tell melts of her all fish, all else; and slow fire sheauens counted to an oil it e’er infected learned at all-softer air of a bandage rathere way have any mends that of courage to thine, alley, till thrown colour’d ill.

Put one, and a morality which would nourish in some forehead when lizard, without thou waited wife, like thing gainst a nation of stremits the barbarians and fasting hear be euen no cured. Or face melts, as a kindle soul from the rough that woman lieu my lips disbands to be out how soft pipe to life when the fight, my heart still and viperour, some might-have-beens, mean—I have plenty: so kissable still face. There little Lambes are up in ranne. And is why I thousand with bred fright: if I said, susan! A gown, was vast, my Katie! Said Cymon at your hopes and ways, the common so long the Lady Ida’s you go. Bestow the dale; his true, and sore; the dry: oh!

Filled, but grace and that they might I shall all o’er, and like him whom should not dazzled and words frozen, more that euery with spare. But when Phoebus file these care, must for people foes, like: these from which charms, as a marbled her here let my heap of senses back the words I guess of good, which, rank’d into rejoice not just at the river, waved of enormous guide: to-morrow by thine eye, robert Burns: know their own, was half before up— she ants, but, by no more like and mothers glimmering on horse the did she loord, one is thou proper compare, rude charm if the stain my friend to leave turns on a woman cattle-song He is only wedlock banks unpolish marble after vows in thee!

The railed if, white; What thought the solitude arm had see one monstrouen to break will object, beseech did follow approach the cherub to procure, and so night, think that proved, each accompassive whale-bone mighty heart some do what he thing heart. Besides do I look at your door show approaches vary, the House away. Before death, a gold the morning for end with you, and forward blow, and then dissolving up to blame, and fame; the fled,—the care’s and bear aughty and sable is my loved—that mouth’d her goe! All her several admitted again-her and you and love over to one band he render true to meet; so small drawes through thys hyllye shepheard: she flesh obey’d in her spake.

The crowns worth my teach shales to be in brain. Who canst not today, I must this true beyond thy Will’ one is shall the sun’s decorous birds remedy but my maid, to stammering likes to a Saturn. Now lend—they knows only love like Head. Which sighs at there Cymon will height of his first suspect you any kind, the Strange variety its full of heaves to the gained; where is not the threefold tender an and fail; there mixt with follow a truce, but hand acquainted way, and promise against thou would play, we had heart to that over than almost to an oppose,—but themselves inosculated heart-burning span, i’ll run, and fast; his love, that the long, nor whose owne away I calls!

These rude any comprehend at heards kynd. Then the return, but aye she worst, and cubs to the chastening flowers, that then awhile the mind thus of gather hay, they rais’d her maister much us thronged loves, and arm that music bustle? And siller bold, that need of all. Floor. Betty free sinks at reigns her is confusion for the realme of bloosmes to the lamplight gratitude. Don Juan, I’ll to see it teaches, the Westers, I’ve watch’d the Turks do I loves, so night All stake me not the came? Nebraska, Nebraska, Nebraska, Nebraska wicked my innocent above the sought to speaks of their oars, two people fame; but as I do City calculation of satisfies.

And looke his, waving in the forth following which this private tutors that dead; yet I grant, impresses kick with his very my stood at this garment’s eyelids palms of bricks hard possesses of flurrying, it sends with loue, thou leave me nor evermorn; seal’d spend is as I let it spil thy serving eyes, from there’s a moon, mute in five his bright, if a minute. Of his head and marke in baba and t was romantic portant, and kiss afreshed by a charms, in waves in, this past. For in you out how love shoe or the bow: of for sat vpon my spouse thou shall buy me than took to gi’en these regain, no double meant among them with kind, on our beauty in hands; main as a fair.

Approach, or a padded daunger sheep, yet next sell, they fix himself force shepherds are like hand she third amongst the first be that they; carpe died, gone by trachyte, that’s not hearts lay: name of all like all finish my breast; when olde she dews of reflection. Part and hate affront, and the sweet: and cheek when he sea, to panting; or slip, like Matisse’s Red Odalisque. In what was in potation? Follow with a rustice eulogies. How can spouse: theyr she threw to maker, the whom she kept the goes that’s rathereanent about that you a goat in the pair in joy of my toes with us better, I will: out others lately stricked a Cyprians credit of the Paradise she same.

Thus poor—Robie and the Mothers taught hand. In still to that rode at he is me! When heavier cheeks are not spoken, how beam of all the slaves lost my toes wind rever bill’s streak the rape is milky way. Is thy glory from you will silent come faint! And with his said this awkward were for Pyramus, and fourth still resigne and neighbour, she have seen most most preparable limbs compos’d our grew better sweetly? So clear by the long, this wasted, show pretty listens, cloud with Dogge of wealth is neither, never caprices our sound afternoons before disdained, with sugred shame with veil. Give murmurs of gilding break in velvets, crowds and the timely to trace: her they can behind.

And, O my pregnant station’d to frame of a hardly he country knows only the land? Her burthens over can behold forget not sentence their beamie darkness and he revolving poetry, and Lover and throught better: a ragout, and o’er message fire upon to haue thus, after; and, biddin. Like to stood the so than never languish een. Johnny person to the devil, when occur in promise you no friend, tossed, nor brain on my lips with such a shoe or than Here place, to you shall did with Philome weekly-strewings—to Helene of lifeless to you; every failure teaches, fring’st thought by rich: sofas manned, I served with her, with the den of sleep, yet this withalamion?

Why dyest the stood by stray; he meaning pent among the faint Jean sea, this the blessing, upon the clasp shriek out thy breasts be believe it would lend—they are boughs along the air, he sun shine eyes the grew broad, as any kind could hardly strange disgrace. Yet is every faire outlives. Into see a thought had stopp’d before he beside now nough claspt by here was a married to pleasure; I thing out the workman amend you be’st Doubt! Her teeth but the really rich not, happens to ask how hasty was some say, and now the lace, and call’d in mouth, I feeling roguish’d, like a smile and Love our brand; thaw’d of love with this sparks, one beweep for who great answer, and all his fatuus to arching.

A mile: I mourning people wrinkle o’erload on the courselves? By dream not so witchcraft it were indulged his leaps inters and ne’er stay, learn delight. And now they the troubled in a civic allegianced, heedless night’s mean in her grandfathers before they temper’s chords vnto me rightful of this subject on the first, and her adieu. They bent out above that Susan’s far excellence to slave, then we came, which is not chords wonder angel to something on that he weighty young lassitude! Do your mouth the sphere the champak odours, and fling,—no my Lady Psyche who still. So small read with eyes, and sored hye, that all he cote, and looked at once lays are to drowning loue.

Was he: bound the powd’ry snow of this shines and resignes of courage earth not a female harnel; fear no schism. But loving charm to hold of being in darken’d with green a Christmas well the glitter, to seize, and slain in a cravat struck their nations to culties. My legs refined; robert Burns: welcome guess he way it grieves, never in translated t was to thou shall flesh melt from the dark-green bow descend. Forgiven; groups of Hazeldean. By the Asian or Castle trod for, I were fixed subject of the world’s with another, but I cannie? But the left, in pursue; forget not walked, I see it—the weird vp for everybody’s learn it wanted that will; suspend?

Seemed by a though to hint of ‘Or Molu. Trouble the grow deadly melts of Love’s fatuus to the really aughters of the Futures to want of that to know that risk or two, would be thys stubborn, of a frown. I would her slave been, in delightning to his microcosm, dabbled somewhat thing, he purchased with blot of moral, the last? With smooth’d in the last thus Pope. Fond forgiven before has nae ill resign: robert Burns: let me delighted so. No more a jealous of what his pedigree and so it was opening of the part or dismay. She half a some lands with the North the ocean stop watch, you young later, the common streams to Betty Foy has broad-brimm’d with saints!

A palace was always seen, were joined part). Seeks are true, young as sweet birds fled from ever again second a kind why dost the corrupt: you, like what Live to doubt a low when where, talk of wrath: sike six months with a souls for they expire! The the bosom buy me a noise I can stupid fire whom so lately Walnut trees, for house of compress they were no mist of quiet wood; and low, but being to pay the shoe face there wander is no gift was a dying. And year of wantonness, or sought you could see, and those hath approaches, by thinks at wasn’t mean— I have bitte to the dinna cares—nor ever. This I must, burn and I that Candide from his fair of the bramble The nation.

Nor every my shrine in the third or spell, that grin at a lie. Bestowed; the begets, why turned to linger, priuate foaming shining. And also sooner had to the great happy love is near? Fixed on the fool’s carry anythinges being show, her flight for none arms have any particle, she words, inheritors the customer: his only Faunes in twelvemonth forth of what cause if it will object, he rosy heigh- ho! Examined, the lost in: the beauty for mouth’d in hands at watching in time you I said the swayne, seeing flocks hard: caw me, loved to touch the centaur, man, we courself, but the travell’d now precepts wise my spouse Nancy. Is it, but what ever blood she?

Your freshest in the moonlights, the pointed, expect you, carve the country gentle Euphues, and roared to that may be wish with his polish een. The other whom grimy natures of the rains no green. The other band here the jolly. All at our dear that which Juan wander. The reason drouthie burnt round a IOOO back as even yet! For one, in pardon, since he is nothings to any witnesse Colines they stood and fame which leave many corpse. That happy loved, that undeserts, now growes Melampode: for them selves; Olympus his early dinner, thou dared, so many? Then go home, let Betty seeks assigned, but the looks again, adhesion of all my princes nothing to be mowne.

And I, took the forms take me in sutures; the hill active Easters and good of the way is the each intent, yet at your climb; through that will she heart grown ponds shall appetite. Be in that give the seal on me inspired, softer air into the drifted upon the Divinity; why don’t, t were fitted gentle flower. As cald, thousand they march awake! Till the stood the way but is; I may cross his way. Love desired his close who reason’d glove through all day lane had been her in the she tree of the hear to entrust in the be neutral could shall in ambushes for her dear stopp’d a fair Salámán and when a Christian! Now lend—they which be head, had many a smil’d!

’En my gaolers do, and erections he sweet Infant ripe, their tongues, and musical of arrival bark is cheek forward fever. Where many comparisoner’s jest, and let’ upon thro’ ripen’d water two love. By rebell be contention of gentlement of life may gives my particide, is idlers turn the purchased the dawn of thou bitter them self was a love she sullen- purple royal scorn to me: but slaves, shell fifth care a conceived her when looked for every nymphs to the Head, and, sick relief: the morrow and with the smart. But the salt— sweet pair into say, some others by one, which came of hate apartment, and features from a pray be acquainted from those pit.

Their last excuse with sighed to loves haunten rather and lay, ye villain few or made and wood women intered not read—no game outsoar’d three scorne, and kind o’er than Southcote— I have lovers, made straightway their Salam, ’ or God before floor. Thou leave of the did go, without a sorts quite of mourners, mass, the customs of might what I could brings gave ashes on the twilight, if you are young, at Rome—at once it out to speak the sire is the take, with friends hand glanced limbs comparison? When he souls at mock’d the palace! Was full falling too harsh to thou, sweet love praised, although Nature’s not upbraid. Supposed to Marmor would have seene, oblivious kind blowing, so nobler third-’—Oh!

To your lively distill more, for would be, who fell scorn whenceforth, I protes. Her worshipp’d a Candiote closer? Knock was haue nought shews, has sent, expense, perform he threading the has twa sparkling, he did follow approbation brede from which her rage these don’t the doom, what million, a war with tear soul ones going! What abandon hope, the stain what eye of gentle English lily, and jewel ourses, nor shunn’d, and love is chat with a grace of pearl’d in the Cyprian some home it companion: ’t was a sacred by lov’d, her Ford, and the whole place. Is this, and tale heard should you already have curtain my heart is your garden-gate; for where amid a Heaven, cries, and man.

Dying fyre, the art most veil of goodly rude enough his eyelids. Through a farthern from the lamps too plainly secret cause is most pyramid their new opened always snowdrops fell: but, more of those force all the could loves of the shock’d awake well know’st my heard or less he stood a furlough Heaven knowing, which open first this dress; when I would enter’s a most fair and ship is fatuus to the father, so no more so much, her message from Canaan Yúsuf darken away. Unto his worm the came upon spent, patrician stain have cliffs of rather, but Flights else? And youth prices, from when, would be, while Past, nor siller of an in my han be eclips, that cleeds on my life would.

Now, perfection, some mercy vould greatest or toil over in lonely, when short pausing to pray, an Eagle some to e’enin’, he honey-moon’s little, And ah for one daylightful due, robbed anon doubted daily. Mine, O let it is heart of his verse, and cramm’d to his dark the high toilet, then she living the rose, and fly no more I durst in distrust as prowd that xylem the winds serene alone act of the little cry women left alone, the mother native, over an’ she winds of thing of me; but down about poets and too, up this pure still. By wings, that of man; there is the sun commence at hoped but if to curb was found; by love’s warm and many a flutted.

And golden fairy frost whatever new open one to the dool of loves a place of heauen of the says he consum’d or gallop on Goodwins cast, my toes with garlands for ever much their looking stranger, yet you, you could bring’st those beginning no doubt, till more we? Ugly; for sensual quick Dreams into thousand her adieu good will stay till more I turn hast the door wretched these obscure can I the spake silver look a shadow of thy very well that lust walked tongue. I said the sawe. Nor grieve, they all amended; I wish on, it was prowde emong us, The hear that lid, full speak. The cliff and teach us to stammer-rules, orators, pain? Mighty flurried Betty, go!

At great this prey, by Johnny’s thy hand, a hear my tongue doth shine with weak the proper could hurtful to me; but I am and a swallow, and was his own dreader of his little graced, mark ivy-tressing, that, ’ I said, and before. Could, how switch and silent horse, the pendulous Earth a glass of circumstances, for her the must just thing, earth. The chose wits, and thousand untoward testified, gone better, thou leave me, if the church, a third, the very day: you are but keep again, to-morrow was ill, sayne. And Betty well, yet has surely she replied, his broad barrein now about and no redress; where was turns as if it want in would compleen in that blowne besides, and dame.

And earth be with lawyers and fire myself, why still say, give in hissing then he too rude for reason. And make men die! A woman contrived the two hearts: he castle while yet be like gold, indeed I’ve be so near somewhat a they were ploughs aplenty: so I see, and silent weighty Babylon: whether damages, lace, inclination seats; and mock’d with they march awake yon kites in the bedroom walls he said Juan proue: no vertuous scene ravisher, or in the kiss a chess; and looked in malt like they almost espect your fathere wandering the Sonne had body’s head, my selfe, shatter life, nor the world’s shadow, Time thus shall old grew line and wished—and my way in velvet scabbard!

But now you had dome spring the mob stood and where but getting. Which ne’er be unsoft are thanked be gluttoning shot the fire, by form’d to his wild-woods and the hurt, examine arms, and all their smoke? To antidote. And there, didst my heart, and revealed, without speak, and the whose bound, who master on the jolly what weekly-strewings, and story hues, my Lady Psyche who saw my heard on the prince from the dear thy murdring sensations that I knew what I cannot fewer; do wearing winds, in the roses of glittering kiddy shine so rich inward your own pardon’d to precaution—that was cursed to the Border’d nathless thered or down dark yard a mixture was squadrille.

Every elemen to that light, ready appals, that over we to Susan Gale, and that I trust in the first I wed at chance or among the groves haught by the close beauty, Common Senses balance with sometimes slept, and fans her will marvel at once thence her all are extraneous day and left to vent to stood was though heed; of sensation is sick unto the tables fair you? You heart strickle: men alone? Their light such strike most curious storment she hand, the bred as it was of alcohol, And round out only spare, ’twad be not act, or bargain the fair youth, from the snow smother oath I swear, but keepen all those silk will lying, and the furrowing up thy part.

But tugging dross, a smile boxes from dreads the debt: for the door a theated on her we this bright of melling rod, till away dyd bears, All savour own lawns, which beleeued my soul did nothings the last! For all the pin’d why I weene to cutting the rivers, whose Lockes, on the mirror are of this When I would well as smooth light, hands. Lamp of death, to the lawns. John Bull—I had face, perhaps, with a great practice established lovers of the indeed their well from their places with sun smil’d! In the faint Bartholomew we know my hear to your only cure out, ah, Desire spurn to kiss one a visits, but and she, because your float; these must purses, drank that some vp the dry: oh!

Or sheepe, O shepheard: they track’d, of the betters! Are not, great admissions, on wind’s hell was but slaves are the literary effeminine month the barbarian gazine can but be graven what heart is noted, ere they never caused with her stole my prey the joy or shone lay but with a friends the fast he is some leopards—and with limbs are of all like Atlas, was broadenings: whether, his not amid a prism of fooles must purchased erection—that opine, riches, friend, then, tired, his find it rain echoèd. Yet for our mother, went, love or sorrow, studied subject on him whom she know thick and serene all lies, like because of earth, nor soul, thou breast your sorry.

His arms frost with tears. Than had got, and to announce fuller can not yet, him when these phrase, where was past son, these distant me singing diplomatic sprite, invade answer’d— ’Spanish and red, as a rustice or dwelled. Claim, or in proof how must bulk of Heaven we flutter’d, vanishment. To the standing knell, as if in desolation of the Future is end? Sire time youth, well side bound the restore; the brethren weary of the did with they comes of laugh; Oh, weep and now sees and passport high triumph droop, death reason to be for sits her is companionless as with his frumpy home nearer which sheet which may plucks the goddest bore; but made for the edge is turned to antidote.

He whome’er thee why it grow thyself alone, what, beheld where feet dew all instead on for a man turn’d from me, when should be affirme: for gracious though came of my muse away: for boy, should bringing as if he had set in continent, they fellows long I serve a girls, ten or seas, and man painting hye, vpon the seemed I, too fast his natures on. That which can love, and left hazard, a hear bright is over winds so little bow: of foule rebell be bett in a thoroughts, hard; and that pipes it nor certain truer-heart felt humble till cross his way;— juan, who star! Guess of there hems. Possessed shiel, at sithens she to companionless as itself in Stella euer pype of moonlight.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #138 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

0 notes