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sugarcoatedstarkey · 1 year

Note

John B screwing his ex to get back at Sarah Cameron for hooking up with Topper, in the boat that they arrived back on, John B not realising that it is a Cameron boat so double win.

On my boat?

pairing: john b routledge x fem!reader

summary: see above

warnings: unprotected sex, oral, hair pulling, chocking, language. (18+ content)

a/n: as you read you will notice I felt the need of making reader the dominate one.

John B stormed away from the crowd; JJ tried to keep up but decided to let him go off alone. He knew he needed some time alone; no one would have expected Sarah to hook up with Topper.

John B was hurt, they were meant to be married. It was supposed to be, until death do us part. Apparently not for Sarah, she had different ideas.

His knuckles ached from the punches he threw at Topper; he knew topper didn’t try to fight back. He knew he would have been the one on the floor. He’s thankful that he got a few punches in, it helped with the anger that bubbled in his chest.

But he was half wishing Topper had fought back, he wanted to feel some sort of physical pain. It would be a lot easier to handle then this emotional pain he was going through right now.

“Yo John B”

He turned around to see you crossing the street, dressed in short shorts and a white crop. He could see your nipples through the thin material, usually he wouldn’t look but that’s where his eyes landed tonight.

“Eyes up here buddy” you laughed, crossing your arms over your chest. You had just finished work, walking along the kook side of the island. You worked for some fancy schmancy guy, he paid you well for what you did.

Of all the people you didn’t expect to see John B, you hadn’t seen him since he ended things with you and started dating Sarah. You didn’t have any hard feelings towards him, but you did hate Sarah, of course the kook princess would get the hottest pogue on the island.

You kept in touch with the rest of the pogues but with everything going on you hadn’t heard from them in a while, you also didn’t want to be caught up with the shit they were going through. Already having the cops on your back about the weed they found in the backseat of the car you may or may not have stolen.

“Y/N, what are you doing out so late?” John B questioned; you could already tell he was upset. His hair was dishevelled, and you could only guess the wetness on his cheeks where tears.. “Just finished work, you?”.

“Looking for a boat”

“Ooh sounds like another adventure” you winked; he nodded his head but didn’t say anything. Turning his head to look over at the water, boats littered the area.

“That’s the boat your friends came back on” you point, the huge white boat stranded on the side of the island. Well, you assumed stranded, you weren’t aware it was in fact the cameron’s boat.

“How do you know that?” He questioned, he started walking towards the boat. You stood on the spot unsure whether you follow or leave, but your question is answered when he stops and looks at you. “Seen them hop off it the other day”.

You both walk in silence; he helps you aboard the boat and you both look around. Checking to make sure no one was lurking around, every so often. The street lights gave you little light, you reached under a cabinet and grab a torch, walking away from John B you went down the stairs.

It was a large bedroom, the bed unmade. There were wrappers everywhere and empty cans of beer. You assumed the mess was from the pogues and rolled your eyes. “They made quiet the mess”.

John B’s voice made you jump, turning around to see him standing close to you. “Yeah, might need to teach them what a bin is” You laughed, looking up you were met with his chocolate brown eyes.

His skin had a slight burn to it from the deserted island sun, his hair was golden and messy. You quickly looked away when you noticed his eyes dropping to your lips, taking a few steps away you began to walk around the boat.

Rummaging through draws and cupboards until you came across the hidden liquor, pulling out a bottle of tequila. “Shots?”.

You didn’t wait for an answer and took a swig from the bottle, the liquid burning your throat. But you refused to have a coughing fit in front of John B. You could feel his eyes on you, pushing your arm out he grabbed the bottle.

“So, what’s got you down?” you question, you can see him physically wince at the question. Brining the bottle to his lips again and taking a longer gulp, this time he coughs as he swallows the liquid. “Damn, must be bad”.

Your dumfounded, was this chick stupid? She gets John B and runs back to her Douch bag ex? He looked like a foot compared to him.

“She hooked up with Topper”.

“Well shit” You sigh, grabbing the bottle from John B and take another swig. You walk over to the bed and sit crossed leg in the middle. “I have no words to give you friend”.

You really had no words, well you had words, but they were cruel and no doubt he didn’t want to hear about how Sarah was stupid and that you would gladly take him back.

“I don’t want to talk about it, just want to forget” he says, he joins you on the bed. Sitting crossed legged in front of you, reaching his hand out for the bottle. You pass him the glass and watch as he takes a swig, mentally slapping yourself for thirsting over your ex-boyfriend.

“Alright, well want to tell me about the deserted island?” You ask, he shakes his head though. Looking up to meet your eyes, that’s when you catch onto what he wants.

He’s moving himself from his crossed leg position and you find yourself untangling your legs and letting him crawl between them. “Can I kiss you?”.

“Thought you’d never ask”.

You let his lips touch yours, it’s soft and sweet like how it used to be. You don’t want to be like how it used to be, you know that’s exactly how he is with Sarah. So, you grip him by the shirt and flip the both of you over. Moving your legs to straddle him, you put more urgency into your kiss.

You tongue being the one to gain dominance, he let’s you grind yourself on him. Hands running up the length of your thighs until they sat on your hips, guiding you to dry hump against his board shorts. He was shamefully already hard.

“Shit-t when did you get this feisty” John B groans, you bite down on his lower lip pulling it slightly. Your vixen eyes stare up at him through your lashes, you pressed kisses down his jaw, using the palm of your hand to push the side of his face into the mattress and attacking his neck.

You had gotten rather adventurous in the bedroom since things ended with John B, not that they weren’t fun when you where together but now you dominated, and you made the men beg.

“Can I take this off” You mumbled against his skin, your fingers twisting at the buttons his t-shirt. He gives you a grunt of approval, you tear his shirt off and kiss down his chest. Letting your hands wonder over his toned stomach, flashes of old memories pop up in the back of your mind.

“How far do you want to go John B?” You question, your fingers on the waistband of his shorts. You wanted him to fuck you, wanted him to use you to forget her.

John B sit’s up and for a moment you panic he is going to change his mind, instead he grabs the material of your shirt and rips it over your head. His hands pressed against your spine, pulling you close to him. His mouth enveloping your nipple, tugging, and sucking.

You bite back your moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet. “I want to be buried deep inside of you” He moans, jutting his up against you. Accidentally letting out a loud whimper, you can feel his lips smirk against your skin.

You push him back down roughly, reaching down between you again and you reach inside his shorts. Wrapping your hand around his length, he sucks in a deep breath presses the palms of his hands into his eyes. You were dripping from his reaction.

You sat to the side of him, pulling his pants down and let him kick them off his ankles. You spread his legs so you could sit between them, holding firmly onto his throbbing cock. He looked down at you, begging you with his chocolate eyes.

“What do you want me to do John B” you purred, you got down to the level of his red tip. Leaving a soft chaste kiss before pulling away, you could see his stomach muscles clenching as he fought the urge to rock his hips up into your face. “Please Y/N”.

“Hmm? What was that?” You questioned, moving your hand softly against his shaft. Giving him just enough friction to edge him on but not enough to stop him from begging. “Y/N, put my cock in your mouth” he demands.

You’re squeezing your thighs together at his bluntness, not used to being told what to do from him. You open your mouth and take him in, you had been working on your deep throating. You were much better then when you had been together. “Holy sh-itt” he gasps, gripping onto the white bed sheets for dear life.

“Hmm” You gurgled around his cock, the vibrations of your mouth sending him into a frenzy. Your nose brushing against his trimmed pubic hair, sliding your hand under you begin to massage his balls, he lets out a strangled moan.

His chest is heaving, and his arms shake as he grips the sheets, you’re watching his face up through your lashes. He finally looks down at you, in that moment you know you have him hooked. He reaches down and grips your hair, rutting his hips up against your face.

You gag slightly from the roughness and your spit begins to drip around his cock, you can feel him twitching inside of your mouth. He is pulling your off him, his cock leaving your mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’. “Sit on my face now”.

You reach down and quickly strip your shorts and panties off, leaving your bare in front of him for the first time in months. “Face down here, ass up here” John B states, he signals for you to do 69. You nod your head and reach over his body, before you can even set yourself up, he reaches around your thighs and bring you down onto his face.

His tongue brushing through your folds, you let out a pornographic moan when the tip of his tongue presses against your bundle of nerves. You weren’t going to let him get his dominance back, instead you pushed your mouth down onto his cock again.

Sucking and swivelling your tongue against him faster than you thought was humanly possible, fingers caressing his balls once more. He licked and sucked like it was his last meal, pushing two of his fingers inside of you. The vibrations from both your moans had you both tipping over the edge and coming, his warm seed hitting the back of your throat. You swallowed quickly as you came down from your high, your juice coated his face.

You were shocked when he licked his lips, something he had not done before. Before you could even think more into that, he was flipping you onto the bed and leaning over you, His lips on your again, fingers laced around your throat, giving you a soft squeeze.

You stared at each other while you kissed, both your tongue battling for dominance. You used all your strength to push on his chest until you were back on top, straddling him once again. “Buckle up big boy” You whispered, giving him a kiss on the chest.

You reach down between you and grasp his cock, looking up at him for approval he grabs your hips and pushes you down instead of giving you an answer. You moan in sync; your nails dig sharply into his stomach. You begin to rock your hips slowly, enticing him with the cushion of your walls.

He reached up to massage your tits that were squeezed together by your arms, your head thrown back as you road him. His fingers where suddenly around your throat and pulling your down to look at him. “Fuck, seriously how are you so good at this” he moans, his eyes boring into yours.

“Practice honey” You purred, moving your hips a bit rougher. Your ass bouncing against his thighs, you reached down and gripped his throat as well. Giving him a harsher squeeze then what he was doing to you, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in delight.

Who would have known John B would like to be chocked out you thought, you let out a soft snicker and his eyes pinged open. “You’re the devil” He states, he wraps his arm around your waist and begins to slide the both of you off the bed.

Walking over towards the seat that ran along the windows that had a view of under the water, fishes looking upon your naked sweaty bodies. He pressed you against the glass, pushing in and out of you at an ungodly speed. Biting down on the skin of your neck, pulling your hand away from his chest he puts your arms above your head and presses them against the window. Your chest and his pressing against each other.

“Harder John B, show me how angry you are” You moan, using your hips to grind into him. He drops his head into the crook of your neck and grips your waist, his speed intensifying. The sound of your wet skins filled the room, the boat felt as though it was swaying.

“Come on John B” You were pushing off him now, pushing him towards the end of the bed. He sat up as you sat back down on him, he wrapped him arms around your waist and let you take control, he was so close to coming, he didn’t have the energy to keep fighting.

“Come on baby, show me what you got” You whispered. Gripping his throat for a second time tonight, pressing your lips to his. Tongues and spit exchanging, both your hips moving in sync as you met each other in the middle, your clit rubbing against his stomach each time. “Yeah, just like that” You cried, dropping your head back and holding onto his shoulders.

He watched your skin glisten with sweat, your perfect perky breasts bouncing with each thrust. He was in another world; he couldn’t hold on anymore. “Y/N” he started, but you squeezed around his throat again to shut him up. “I’m gonna c-”

He didn’t get a chance to warn you as you came first, loud, and fast. Walls squeezing and fluttering around him, causing him to let go and cum inside of you. Both of you moaning and crying out in pleasure, your fingers still wrapped around his throat.

When you finally both caught your breaths and vision, you slid off him. “Well shit John B” you laughed, you began gathering up your clothes, searching for your panties. “More like well shit Y/N, your fiesty” he says, he however doesn’t reach for his clothes and watched you intently.

You turn your head to the door when you hear voices and the door rattles, head snapping back to John B who begins to rush around.

“I told you he would be her--” JJ begins, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees the both of you trying to get dressed quickly, eyes giving you a once over before offering you a wave. You give him a quick wave as he ushers everyone back and closes the door.

“In my fucking boat, John B?” You hear Sarah scream; you give him an apologetic smile and make your way to the door. Pulling it open, Sarah’s eyes meet yours and her eyes widen when she realises, he went to you not some random touron.

“Next time, try this in bed, he Loves it” You purred, wrapping your fingers around her delicate throat. You expect her to grab your arm, but she is too shocked to speak.

giving her a wink before walking away from the group, all eyes on you. You get a sudden rush of euphoria knowing you just fucked her boyfriend on her boat.

Part two

#john b fanfiction #john b smut #john b outer banks #john b routledge #john b x you #john b x y/n #john b x fem!reader #john b x reader #john b routledge smut #john b routledge x you #john b routledge x reader #chase stokes smut #outerbanks smut #outerbanks fic #outerbanks fics #outerbanks fanfiction #outerbanks x reader #outerbanks x you

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muffinsin · 4 months

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Hey, this one’s less nsfw and more fluffy.

Could I request dani with an s/o that is an absolute romantic and literally treats her like a princess? Like I imagine when dani is in the library she reads all these fairytales about Prince Charming and she secretly wants someone to sweep her off her feet. And she finally gets it, someone who can keep up with her pace and match her energy. Surprise bouquets, serenading, reciting poetry, kisses her hand when they first meet, etc. Just spoiling the fuck out of her.

Omg absolutely. Dani deserves nothing less but the absolute princess treatment imo!🎀

Masterlist

Meeting you was the best thing that has happened to Daniela in her reborn life. She isn’t over-estimating this. It’s simply the truth

She was in the library as usual, reading her favourite book yet again. Although, this time, it seemed more as though she merely flipped the pages

Her back was set against a bookshelf, her head leaning back

It was then that she heard your unique voice. A voice she would never forget

“O she doth teach the torches to burn bright. It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night. As a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear”

A quote, from the book in her hand. A quote of the moment Romeo expressed his feelings, his first impression of his dear Juliet. Daniela jumped from the suddenness of your voice

“You know this book?”, she asked, breathless

From then on out, Daniela had her eye on you. And, more importantly, she knew yours was set on hers

Each day she found a new, beautiful flower set outside the door to her room. Each time with strange initials written on a paper clip that was wrapped around the stem. Later on, she learned those were yours

And not only this, but as you gifted her rose after rose, she had noticed one thing; they never sported any thorns

“Because how dare they prickle the finger of such a beautiful, nimble creature such as yourself, Lady Daniela. No, it would be a vast crime indeed to harm a beauty such as yourself”, you had reasoned when she confronted you about this

She fell fast, but also, hard. And it was genuine. She learned to love your laughter and she loved being the reason for it

She blushed often around you, and kept a vase in her room, the most beautiful one, to hold all her dear gifted roses. It became a bouquet, the most beautiful one in all of Castle Dimitrescu, as time stretched on

Daniela had been called many things in her life- delusional, was one of the terms that struck her especially hard

Even Cassandra and Bela had used it on her

Delusional,

Such high expectations

A mutant’s life is not one of romance

Yet you proved them all wrong

You were raised from your low staff position to the one of Daniela’s personal servant in mere hours of her finding out about your identity. She couldn’t get enough of you

And neither could you of her

Daniela grew addicted to the way you treated her, loved her, and eventually to you

She found poems in her room after you were tasked to clean it, a note sitting on her bed inviting her to a date nearly every time. Secretly, she messed her room more often than normal, eager to see you more often

Upon experiencing your first date together, Daniela knew she was head over heels smitten, more so than the naive redhead often and normally was

You had taken her to a date in the opera hall, at night, when it had been just the two of you

Daniela had blushed bright pink when you bowed down and gripped her soft hand upon seeing her. She neglected her gloves and sickle, and it had paid off

She was sure she would faint when you held her hand softly and pressed a kiss, a sweet greeting, to her knuckles

How romantic

You knew your way around music, your fingers playing a steady rhythm as the two of you shared the small seat in front of the piano

It was refreshing to be with someone who’s heartbeat picked up around her for an entirely different reason than fear

Daniela was addicted to the feeling

She sung and laughed as you played the lovely tune, and giggled when you joined in, singing verse after verse,

Singing of auburn hair and golden eyes,

Beautiful lips and soft, pale skin,

A beauty in the distance growing nearer and nearer

It was then that she had kissed you. She never bothered holding back, and perhaps she was even in a rush, too used to the love she felt disappearing. To her lover losing interest

But you did not

In fact, in time your love only grew, as did hers

She was gifted bouquets and rare treasures and chocolates from the duke, showered in love and affection

And your attention? It was solely hers

She spent her days with you entirely, her head on your thighs as you read to her with a hand in her beautiful locks, or told her about the outside world and what you had heard of it

You had been the one to ask her to be yours, and she jumped at the opportunity

Never had she even taken this step. She had always claimed; and yet, never had she been claimed. Not until you

She had worn the dress you had gotten her with hard earned money, beautiful and green, matching the gemstone at her necklace and contrasting beautifully with her pale skin and hair

You made her stand out

That night, the opera hall was all yours once again

A servant of unknown nature playing the piano obediently as the two of you laughed and sang, danced and kissed the night away

She was sure she would faint when you pulled her onto the stage and danced with her, swirling her around and holding her tight

And then, when she laughed and sank to her knees after hours, and you did the same, and your hand held hers, you asked her

And she said yes, with tears in her eyes, the first time the young woman had been official. It felt good

Of course, your relationship did not go unnoticed by her family and servants

However, it seemed the closer you grew with Daniela, the more respect and power you earned. You were untouchable, fit for your queen

And as a queen she was treated,

Showered with gifts and cuddled whenever she wished,

Kissed and protected,

She smiled daily and blushed sweetly at every flower that was handed to her, as though it was the first

She was taken on dates frequently and cared for, carried when the floor was filthy and massaged in a hot bath,

Coddled and painted

She was your muse, as she had always been

She she wouldn’t have it any other way

{For sure got a bit off track, although I plan on continuing something, if not by far more than 1 thing, along the lines of Daniela getting her fairytale partner soon! Maybe even a proper story wohoo! I’ve had a Cassandra one once btw-} {I love Dani sm ;-;}

#cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil village

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ciderjacks · 11 months

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I watch some of Watcher's stuff, tell me whatever you want about Shane Madej!

HOUGHHHH. OHHRHFHTHABK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOY

i think a lot of people who are aware of Shane sort of just think of him as the skeptic guy on bfu/ghost files (not saying that’s u obv just a lot of ppl bc I guess I need this to be a pitch meeting) and I think that is a shame because HOLY SHIT HES SO TALENTED AND COOL AND WEIRD AND THE SHIT HE MAKES IS SO FUCKIKNG INSANELY GOOD

Ok so going back in time for a second to b*zzfeed. Who btw did not deserve this guy. Afaik he had two major like, creative projects on there. Ruining History and The Hot Daga. Both were very good. ruining history was a fun history show he did with Sara and Ryan and there are rotating guests every episode. Shane is very interested in history, very good at teaching history, and i think in an alternate universe hes a beloved high school history teacher. Ruining History is the father of puppet history. B*zzfeed canned it and i miss it every day. and then there’s the other father of Puppet History, Hot Daga. Hot Daga is insane. I love Hot Daga, its not for everyone, but I think its so good. The lore goes crazy, he produced and made original songs for it, he animated the whole final half season by himself which is fuckinf insane. He made a ballad for it and actually i need everyone reading this to Listen to “believe me maizey” and then directly after listen to the Meteor Ballad from Puppet History. OH LOOK A SEGWAY

Puppet history is so fuckinf good. Its So Good. And especially in later seasons since hes doing so much you really start to see his improvement as an artist and its just. Its incredible. Some of the somgs are genuinely fucking masterpieces, like some of my favs are The Flower Boat Song, Asmodeus, The Horse and God song, the Emu song, Big Pile Of Diamonds, Infinitiger, The Window Song, Gay Oars Duet, Hologram Professor Song, and the Meteor’s Ballad. And more. Uhh OH the Olympic Torch is really good too. His lyrics are so smart and fun and his vocals are so impressive and he has such good range, he duetted Himself for the Oar song and managed to make the two voices identifiable as separate characters without being over the top. The lyrics range from poetic anf beautiful to weird and funny often within the Same song! Its just so good and he starts so good and gradually over the years he’s done the show you can see him getting more comfortable and better at music which is crazy causw again HE STARTED OFF GOOD! HE WAS INSANE IN HOT DAGA AND HE IS SOMEHOW EVEN BETTER IN PUPPET HISTORY LIKE! and and and ok here’s where I get crazy and a little parasocial (lol not really i am misusing that word for the bit LOL)

Something about all his work is that you can kind of see how his art depicts the world. In Hot Daga you get the line “what else can you do in the face of such monumental loss, but breath a weary sigh as the world is a little quieter now.” And in Puppet history you get uh actually you get like 20 things from the meteor song but one of my favorite parts is (read blue as the professor, orange as the meteor, pink as both) “some shit’s just etched into the stars, calamities you cant outrun/and when sweet earth we finally meet/the sky will burn and boil the sea/as mountains rend/its you and me.” i think both these lyrics and these somgs demonstrate a maturity about the world that you dont really see in a lot of people, his general kindness towards anything and everything and his ability to change perspectives on things without being forceful. (On a personal note I listened to The Meteor song after someone I knew passed, and as dumb as it maybe sounds the idea that like,, death is not cruel, you can’t always run and sometimes the best thing you can do is be there with the people you love as the world ends.) and also I think that you really can tell that he views the people he’s telling you about as People and not just like, figures. Ykwim. He shows such genuine respect and care for everyone in these stories and I’ve already like briefly in these stories but like, you KNOW if a guy can make me cry for the Meteor that killed the dinosaurs then he’s something special. i also think the way he portrays death in his work is very comforting as a whole. and another thing speakinf of rhat is that he has so much respect for other cultures in a level I think that goes beyond just bare minimum not being a piece of shit. Like especially when he’s teaching history, an example that always sticks out to me is how much effort he put into making sure people remembered and thought about Hatshepsut by having a whole episode on her history then also making an EXTREMELY (probably intentionally so though i cant be sure bc I can’t reas minds) catchy song that Told you to think of Hatshepsut and explained Why uou should think of Hatshepsut and it’s been stuck in my head ever since I first heard it years ago. Also I’m consistently impressed by his good pronunciation of things, I remember in the Tunguska event episode of mystery files there were so many ppl from tbe area he was talking about shocked by how good his pronunciation was. And ive seen that so many times w him like, idk i just think thats very cool. He’s a genuinely really mature and respectful guy I think. Wise too. So much of his work has educated me, changed my worldview for the better, inspired me. Like He’s so talented ik i keep saying that but HE IS!

Like ok so. He can write both songs and stories beautifully. he’s wise as fuck and could probably be a philosopher. He can make puppets (and just tbc later season puppet history the puppets are not him, but in the early seasons afaik they were all him, so he is definitely skilled at that.), he can sing, he can voice act, his graphics and editing are off the charts, he’s educated and smart, hes funny. He’s so fuckinf cool.

also again getting parasocial here but I just really like how much of a zest for life the guy seems to have. And Honestly im impressed that he worked in retail, had actual trash thrown in his face by an angry customer (true story) and still came out it like “man the world sure is wonderful!”. What a guy. And He’s so fucking weird and interesting and I could seriously just listen to him rant about Literally anything Forever. Anything. It doesnt matter I think he could talk about anything in a way that would make me invested in it and i’d come out of it more educated than before with a fresh new perspective on life.

This is getting Essay-like so here are some other Random Shane Things I know to close me out I guess

-he loves community was in the community fandom and has a crush on troy barnes

-he wants to be a mouse

-he’s lived 7000 years

-was DB cooper

-makes a fine ass Krampus

-actually the coolest guy alive

sorry this is almost 100% incomprehensible thank you for letting my autism loose tho

#ask tag #shane madej #Um. Yeah. Hhahaha so when insaid I had autism about rhis guy uh Inwasnt kidding #we are watcher #puppet history #hot daga

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daisyishedwig · 3 months

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I have nearly a dozen library books checked out right now that I need to read and usually my method is reading which one Ive had out the longest, but I picked up most of these within a few days of each other, so im facing choice paralysis. So...

Reblog to get a more diverse vote maybe?

#personal #and i know you may be asking yourself #Milo why are so many of these books Peter Pan books #and to that i say #don't judge my descent into madness here #childhood hyperfixations hit hard sometimes

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georgiesgirl1223 · 7 months

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Unearthed Secrets

Professor Lupin and female student reader (of age 16-17)

This is meant to be part of a bigger story but I just had this in my head and had to get it out. Also this is the first thing I've been able to write in nearly 4 years so I'm a little rusty and I apologize. I also didn't proof read.

This is when the reader finds out Lupin's big secret.

Warnings: mentions of blood, being naked, slight hints at sex

Word Count: 3256

It was the night after the full moon when Remus Lupin stumbled out of the of the tunnel leading from the Shrieking Shack and onto the dewy grounds of Hogwarts. It was a cool autumn evening and a light rain had begun to fall as he treaded his way, limping and sore, past the Forbidden Forest and up stone steps into Hogwarts Castle. The great wooden door creaked as he slowly opened it enough for him to slip inside. A draft smelling of old books and burning torches swept over his worn and scarred face as entered, inhaling deeply at the familiar scent and he knew he was almost home. Just a little further down into the dungeon where he preferred his chambers to be, and he would be in the welcome solitude of his sanctuary. All he wanted was a hot shower to wash the dried blood and dirt off his toned but battered body and then to fall into bed and fall into the coma like sleep both his body and mind needed. He needed to forget, wipe away the debauchery of the previous night from his brain. The fighting, the endless unquenchable hunger, the battle to just survive took its toll on his body, mind and soul each month and he just wanted to lock himself away to forget.

Remus had disappeared for three days, hiding himself away from the students and professors of Hogwarts, not only to prepare himself for the eventual change that always came, but to keep his dirty shameful secret, the secret that only few knew, that he was a werewolf. Remus knew that the parents and school governors alike would not appreciate a werewolf teaching their children. He couldn’t fathom that anyone would accept him for who he truly was so Remus decided to hide away, especially during those times close to the full moon when he knew he was the most on edge. This is how he lived his life, in solitude, alone, withdrawn from others around him and not letting anyone in, well almost anyone.

After descending several flights of stone staircases Remus had at long last reached his oak chamber door. Cautiously he opened the door, not wanting to alert anyone of his presence, and stepped inside feeling a warmth and glow he did not expect. Closing the bedroom door behind him he looked around searching for the source of the warmness. Glancing Remus noticed there were several candles lit casting soft shadows and a crackling fire already lit in the large stone hearth. Then his gaze fell onto her wrapped in one of his oversized cardigans and curled up in the middle of his cozy, plush, kind sized four poster bed.

Remus knew it was wrong, starting a relationship with a student even if she was of age, but he couldn’t help himself. Her shy affectionate glances she gave him, the warm smiles she gave him, the mischievous but tender glints in her eyes, it melted his heart and softened his demeanor. It began as harmless flirtations shared between the two, then it turned into private defense lessons with soft slight touches and shared jokes. The more time Remus spent with her the more he could feel his resolve fading. Then one night he found himself alone in this very room with her and that’s when it happened. His lips found hers in a shy unknowing kiss, looking deep into her eyes for approval as she leaned into him. The next kiss was more passionate, deeper and raw with emotion. He pulled her small frame into his towering one, snaking one arm around her waist with the other cupping her cheek. Their shared affection and devotion becoming more evident with each passing moment. From that night on she often snuck down to his chamber to spend the night together. They would spend their time talking into the early hours of the morning about everything and nothing, or him holding her in his strong arms with her head on his chest as he read to her. Remus didn’t want to push anything with her, respected and cared for her far too much to press the issue of sex. He knew when she was ready, she would come to him. But it didn’t matter to him, she meant the world to him, and he was perfectly happy spending these shared nights together, forming a deeper type of intimacy.

Now he stood staring at her curled all alone in his bed and as he stepped closer guilt ripped at his insides. Remus noticed her tear-stained face and the discarded tissues strewn about the bedside. He didn’t tell her that he was leaving, wanted to protect her from who he was, wanting to keep this tryst going for as long as he could without having to reveal his deepest darkest secret. She had no clue where he had gone, if he had left the school or if he had left her, no clue if he was even coming back, but here she was waiting for his return all the same. Remus reached out a hand and gently ran it down her soft wet cheek making her stir and quietly call out his name not even knowing if he was there.

“Remus” she softly hummed in her sleepy state.

“It’s me puppy, I’m right here” he whispers as he sat down on the bed.

Smiling at the loving nickname he had given her (because she always looked up at him with puppy dog eyes), she reached out for him, silently praying that this was not another dream but that he was truly there this time. Reaching out she found his hand and their fingers instantly entangle as she gently flitted her eyes open. Love and tenderness were all Remus saw as he looked down into her eyes, a look he mirrored back to her. As she sat up in bed the candlelight flickered, and she was now able to see the state he was in, and concern was instantaneous on her face. She noticed his wet, torn and bloodstained shirt, the bags under his eyes and the tired bloodshot look in his eyes.

“Remy” she questioned, raised her hand to gently push the sweaty matted hair from his eyes.

“What happened?” He fingertips lightly brushed over the deep bloodied gash on his cheek.

Remus looked down clearly ashamed and unable to meet her tender gaze.

She stiffened a little but kept her calm and caring composure. “Remus, if something has happened, if there is someone else, you can tell me.” She grabbed both his hands in hers. “Whatever it is we can work through this together, just be honest with me please”.

His heart sank even lower at the remark that she thought that there could be anyone else but her. Squeezing her hands in his and looking up forcing himself to meet her loving gaze he opened his mouth to speak.

“Puppy, darling there is something I need to tell you. Something that I have been keeping from you.” Remus tried to reposition himself and she noticed him wince in pain. “There is nobody else pup, but there is something I need to get off my chest and you’re the only person I trust telling now.”

Noticing him grimace in pain again she placed a delicate kiss to his lips to quiet him. “You can tell me everything later, right now let’s get you cleaned up.”

Remus just nodded, appreciation and shock written on his face as he allowed her to lead him into the bathroom and lean him against the counter as she began to draw him a hot bath in the large clawfoot tub placed in the center of the room. He watched her in awe as she took care of him, not questioning him not pressing the issue, she was there simply because she cared, maybe even loved him. Lighting more candles and turning off the water she walked over to him and with slow nimble fingers began to unbutton his ripped shirt, pulling it off his sticky sweaty skin and exposing both his large muscular form but all his scars and scratches all over his back and chest and she let out a muffled gasp. Stepping back from him he bit her lip and darted her eyes on the floor as a slight flush rushed into her cheeks. They had never seen each other naked before and although this was going to be the first-time seeing Remus without clothes this felt different. This was intimate, passionate but not sexual in any way. She admired his form as he undressed and lowered himself into the steaming hot water, hissing as the heat stung at his open wounds. His head lulled back as his worn eyes met hers. Slowly she removed the cardigan of his she was wearing, revealing the bra and underwear she wore beneath before she nervously and timidly removed the two items of silken lacey clothing. Remus cherished every move that she made but trying to be respectful of her shyness at the same time. Standing in front of him exposed and defenseless in the steamy candlelit warmth she felt revered, cherished, admired. Feeling more confident she tiptoed over to the tub and immersed herself into the water behind him, wrapping her legs around his torso. Reaching for a washcloth she dabbed at his bloodied back, washing his fresh wounds and placing soft kisses across his back over his healed scars. She took her time, letting him relax into her touch and making sure to cleanse every wound. After addressing each injury, she discarded the red stained cloth, washing his hair, rubbing his shoulders and allowing him to melt into her.

Remus felt every muscle in his body relax instantly under her touch, every wound seeming magically healed under her caress. He never had this is his life, someone that cared for him, took care of him, someone he admired, adored and trusted. It was at this moment, consumed by her actions that he realized his true feelings for her. He was in love, an emotion he had tried to avoid for most of his life. He was always enamored with her since the day she had stepped foot in his class, but now as she sat there, attending to him with no questions asked he was utterly captivated. That was also the moment when guilt punched him in the stomach once again. Remus did all he could to push the anguish from his conscience. If only for this tiny moment, just to allow himself to savor every moment, memorizing this time with you because after what he must tell you, it could be the last. He wanted to engrave every feather touch, every gentle kiss, every adoring look you gave him into his brain. He wanted this moment to last forever, but alas it was fleeting just like all the others.

As she sat there with her limbs wrapped around him, her head laying on his back, the soft rattle of his breath reverberating through her body, she was certain that she would do anything for this man. This man exerts a calming reassurance whenever she was with him, and she knew he would never intentionally hurt her. Although his secretive nature and disappearance irked her, she trusted him implicitly and knew he will tell him what she needed to know when he was ready.

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for what was about to come, he abruptly stood and stepped out of the cooling water, wrapping a towel around his hips. She looked up at him as he offered her his hand, pulling her out and engulfing her in a fluffy towel and pulled her into his chest. Remus enveloped her small frame in his strong arms and pressed his rough lips to her forehead, inhaling deeply before pulling away and dressing himself in lounge pants and a t-shirt. While doing so he respectfully turned his back, allowing her some privacy to redress into her silken lace undergarments and his oversized cardigan. Stepping out into his bedroom the air was heavy with silence and a twinge of awkwardness. They walked over to the four poster and sat down as she turned to face him, cradling his calloused hands in hers.

“Remus, you know you can tell me anything right?” She asked, caressing his palms with her thumbs.

He glanced at her, tears welling in his eyes as he stood and paced the room, absentmindedly running his hands though his hair. Pausing to take a deep breath he blurted out “I’m a werewolf.” The words stumbled out of his mouth like an incoherent jumble. Remus looked at her now, pleading “I’m so sorry darling, I’m a werewolf.” Anxiety now took over as he continued to pace the room, rambling as he told his story. “I was four when it happened. I was with my father who worked at the ministry when a convicted lycanthrope was attempting escape, and I was just a small boy who happened to be in the way.” Remus was beginning to become agitated, clearly projecting the loathing he felt towards himself, a loathing he assumed you developed towards him. He continued to recall his story, speaking more animatedly and waving his hands in frustrations. “From that point my friends and family became wary of me, and my parents did all they could to try and find a cure but to no avail. Their efforts were futile and when they realized I would forever be a lycanthrope they abandoned me. I was just a child trying to scavenge to survive and navigate this new life, a life alone. That is when a came across a pack of werewolves and they adopted me as one of their own.”

Tears silently streamed down her face as she listened to him tell his story, revealing his deepest secrets. She felt nothing but love and empathy for the man before her. Though complicated and dangerous this world, his world may be, it did not change her feelings toward him. In fact, she felt closer to him than ever before. They had shared so much during their many all-night talks, but this was one subject, their childhoods, neither of them ever brought up. Hearing about his plight and how his parents abandoned him, she felt remorse.

Not daring to look at her, not wanting to see the contempt he believed was written across her face he crossed the room and sat in a plush armchair opposite the bed. He hung his head in his hands as the hot tears of same and guilt began to fall. “I’m so sorry pup. I never meant for you to be a part of this. I never wanted you to be a part of this world of this dark side of my life.” He began to sob, catching his breath as he went on. “I’ve never let anyone into my life before, not like this. And then you came into my life. You walked into my classroom like a ray of sunshine, of hope. I was completely smitten with you from day one and as we grew closer, my affections for you flourished as well. I knew I shouldn’t, but I let my guard down, I permitted myself to let you in, to become close, devoted, attached. Now all I have done is put you in danger. Darling, if anything ever happened to you, especially at my hand, I don’t know what I’d do, I’d probably die.” Heaving through continued sobs he glanced at his bare feet, unable to even look up at you. He knew it would only make it worse if he looked up and saw the pained disgust of the reaction, he assumes you have. “You probably hate me now and I wouldn’t blame you if you did, I hate me right now. I just need to tell you one more thing, I love you puppy, and I always will. But I think you should leave, I don’t know if I can trust myself around you, I don’t want you to get hurt.” Taking a deep breath, he heaved a great sigh as a pained relief washed over him. Remus no longer harbored any secrets from you. He was now an open book to you, vulnerable to any of your prodding. Looking up, tears still streaming down his cheeks, he was finally able to meet your eyes. He was unable to read her expression as she wiped her own tears on the cuff of his cardigan.

Silently she stood, and his heart sank, believing that she was about to walk out forever. To his amazement she stepped over to him, running her hands along his shoulders she sat down on his lap. Looking deep into his eyes she wiped away his tears, her touch soft and gentle. Shock and incomprehension swirled in his brain as he stared back at her. She delicately brushed her lips against his before pulling back and lightly running her fingers down his cheek, never losing eye contact. “I love you too Remy.” Her words although only a whisper rang in his ears as he tried to grasp what he had just heard. Noticing the disbelief etched on his face she repeated “I love you Remy, and I’m not going anywhere. You may not trust yourself, but I trust you and that’s all that matters.

“I love you so much puppy. I’m so sorry and I hope that one day I can earn your forgiveness, not just for keeping this secret but for putting you in danger.”

“Remus, there is nothing to forgive. I am grateful that you told me, but I also know that you would have told me in your own time. And as for you putting me in danger, I feel safe with you Remy and I know that you would never intentionally put me in harms way.”

There was nothing to say, how could you be so forgiving and understanding of his condition. How was he so lucky to find you. What did he do right in his life to be so deserving of your unconditional love and adoration. There was nothing but that comfortable silence that you two so often shared. It was back as if nothing had changed between the two of you. He wrapped one arm around your waist, peering into your soul as his fingertips brushed the hair from your face, tracing down your delicate features before cupping your cheek. It was instantaneous, his lips crashed onto hers, delicate yet hungry his tongue explored hers in the passionate embrace he thought he would never experience again. Time seemed to have stood still as the embrace continued, their lips never parting, their hands ever roaming. Panting they pulled away, Remus placing one last tender kiss to her swollen lips before resting his forehead against hers.

“Remy?” she asked shyly, her voice barely audible.

“Yes pup?’“I think I’m ready, I know I’m ready. I love you Remy and I want to be with you.” The words came out in a shaky breath as she fiddled nervously with the collar of his shirt. Biting her lip, she looked up only to be met with his intense loving gaze. She wanted him, wanted him like she never wanted any man before. But before she could be with him, give herself fully, surrender herself wholly, mind, body and soul, she needed to reveal her deepest secret to him.

#harry potter universe #harry potter fanfiction #remus x reader #remus lupin #remis lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff

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picsofsannyas · 1 year

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BELOVED OSHO, I AM JUST CURIOUS. HAVE YOU READ THE BOOK ZORBA THE GREEK BY KAZANTZAKIS? I LOVE IT SO MUCH. IS NOT ZORBA EXACTLY THE WAY YOU WANT US TO BE? AT LEAST THAT IS HOW I UNDERSTAND YOUR TEACHING.

I have been Zorba the Greek for many lives. I need not read the book; that is my autobiography. And that's what I would like you to be. Take life joyfully, take life easily, take life relaxedly, don't create unnecessary problems. Ninety-nine percent of your problems are created by you because you take life seriously. Seriousness is the root cause of problems. Be playful, and you will not miss anything -- because life is God. Forget about God; just be alive, be abundantly alive. Live each moment as if this is the last moment. Live it intensely; let your torch burn from both sides together. Even if it is only for one moment, that is enough. One moment of intense totality is enough to give you the taste of God. You can live in a lukewarm way, the bourgeois way, the middle-class way. You can go on living, dragging yourself for millions of years -- you will only collect dust from the roads and nothing else. One moment of clarity, totality, spontaneity, and you burn like a flame. Just one moment is enough! One moment will make you eternal; you will enter from that moment into eternity. That's my whole message for my sannyasins: live it in such way that you need not repent, ever.

A friend has sent me a paper-cutting.

An old woman, eighty-five years old, was asked by a journalist that if she had to live again, how would she live?

The old woman said -- there is a great insight in it, remember it -- "If I had my life to live over, I would dare to make more mistakes next time. I would relax, I would limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances. I would take more trips. I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less beans. I would perhaps have more actual troubles, but I would have fewer imaginary ones.

"You see, I am one of those people who lived sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I have had my moments, and if I had it to do over again I would have more of them. In fact, I would try to have nothing else -- just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day. I have been one of those persons who never go anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat and a parachute. If I had to do it again I would travel lighter than I have.

"If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring, and stay that way later into the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds. I would pick more daisies."

And that's my vision of a sannyasin too. Live this moment as totally as possible. Don't be too sane, because too much sanity leads to insanity. Let a little craziness exist in you. That gives zest to life, that makes life juicy. Let a little irrationality always be there. That makes you capable of playing, being playful; that helps you to relax. A sane person is utterly hung up in the head, he cannot get down from there. He lives upstairs. Live all over the place, this is your house! Upstairs, good, the ground floor, perfectly good -- and the basement is beautiful too. Live all over the place, this is your house. And don't wait for next time, I would like to tell this old woman, because the next time never comes.

Not that you will not be born again; you will be born again, but then you will forget. Then you will start again from ABC. This old woman has been here before. She must have been here millions of times before. And I can say to you that each time, nearabout the age of eighty-five, she would have decided the same way: "Next time I'm going to do it differently." But next time you don't remember -- that's the problem. You lose all memory of the past life. Then again you start from ABC and the same thing happens.

So I would not say to you to wait for the next time. Take hold of this moment! This is the only time there is, there is no other time. Even if you are eighty-five you can start living. And what is there to lose when you are eighty-five? If you go barefoot on the beach in the spring, if you collect daisies -- even if you die in that, nothing is wrong. To die barefoot on the beach is the right way to die. To die collecting daisies is the right way to die. Whether you are eighty-five or fifteen doesn't matter. Take hold of this moment. Be a Zorba. You ask: "I am just curious. Have you read the book Zorba the Greek? I love it so much."

Only loving it won't help. Be it! Sometimes it happens that you love the opposite of what you are. You enjoy the opposite of what you are -- because it releases fantasies in you. It gives you a vision of how you would like to be: that's the appeal of a Zorba.

But loving the book will not help. That's what people have been doing down the ages. People love the Bible, and don't become Jesus, and they love the Heart Sutra -- they repeat it, they chant it every day. Millions of people in the East repeat the Heart Sutra five times a day -- in China, in Japan, in Korea, in Vietnam -- they go on repeating it. It is a small sutra; it can be repeated within minutes. They love it, but they don't become it!

Be a Zorba. Remember it: loving books is not going to help, only being helps.

"I love it so much. Is not Zorba exactly the way you want us to be?" Not exactly, because I would not like many Zorbas in the world. Not exactly, because that would be ugly and monotonous and boring. You be a Zorba in your own way -- not exactly.

Never try to imitate anybody, never be an imitator; that is suicide. Then you will never be able to enjoy. You will always remain a carbon copy, you will never be the original. And all that happens in life -- truth, beauty, good, liberation, meditation, love -- happens to the original, never to the carbon copy. Beware -- not exactly; that is dangerous. If you simply start following Zorba and start doing things as he is doing them you will get into trouble. That's how people have done it.

Look at the Christians, look at the Hindus: they have been trying to do it exactly. Nobody can be a Buddha again! God does not permit any repetition! God does not allow secondhand people, he loves firsthand people. He loved Buddha. He loved so much that it is finished. Now there is no need for Buddha. It would not be a love affair anymore. It would be like going to the same movie that you have seen before, it would be like reading the same book that you have read many times before. God is not dull and stupid, he never allows anybody to repeat anybody else: Christ only once, Buddha only once -- and so are you only once! And you are alone, there is nobody else like you. Only you are you. This I call reverence for life. This is really self-respect.

Learn from Zorba, learn the secret, but never try to imitate. Learn the climate, appreciate, go into it, sympathize with it, participate with Zorba, and then go on your own. Then be yourself.

Osho.

The Heart Sutra Chapter #6 Chapter title: Don't Be Too Sane

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beloved-blaiddyd · 2 months

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“I don't think there's really much to know about me. I was the right-hand man to the now-Archbishop Byleth. That's all."

"Hmm...?... W-What? H-How did you know?!”

“...”

“Yes. I am the writer and artist who goes by the pen name ███████. That's all.”

“Psssst! Keep it a secret, okay?! And fine! You can read my manuscripts. But don't spread it around campus! I'd rather not have my friends get a heart attack over knowing what usually goes on inside my head.”

Brynn Lear enrolled in Blue Lions due to her mother's heritage, but had the world known her true roots— she would be waving the golden flag.

The Lear House is a fallen family from barely undocumented times. Historians recovered bits and pieces but not enough to retrieve the full glass. Not even her own father knows their past. Once upon a time, the Lears handled most of Leicester's political affairs and ruled fairly. Lukas Lear in particular had been the one to suggest the nation's symbol to be the gentle fawn. Unfortunately, there was a hushed yet bloody conflict amongst the alliance— particularly with Riegans— and their name was wiped from the records. However, even if Brynn knew about this, she likely wouldn't fight for her supposes birthright.

In the year 1182, many speculated she had founded a hidden society. Books were burned on several occasions to avoid Faerghus citizen's education. In retaliation of the Empire's relentless conquering, Brynn had, allegedly, led an organization keeping nationalist literature that collaborated with underground organizations often. There were more rumors that she had conducted mechanical experiments under the table. No one had yet to receive any confirmation from her regarding these cases.

After the war, Brynn Lear decided to take on her old professor's torch. She had been proposed a position as a Royal Advisor in the Holy Kingdom but vehemently turned it down.

“I like teaching, Your Majesty. Who's gonna pick up the pieces when Byleth's the archbishop?”

At present time, she teaches tomes in Garreg Mach along with her closest academy friends, Professors Annette and Ven. On off days, she can be found visiting a café ran by childhood friend Estella and Phitre. She claims that these are the only things on her mind.

... But little do they know she's been writing dark and obsessive fiction on the side.

Pen name "Beloved" does not shy away from writing about stalking, possession, cannibalism, and more. Before she was “Beloved”, she went by another name which had relative success in the industry, but she decided to change her title. Still, her books are a guilty pleasure of many nobles, including her esteemed rival: Hubert Von Vestra.

“You seem to like those dark monthly stories, Your Majesty.”

“W-What?! That's... Alright, perhaps I do enjoy these sort of... Dark... Subject matters...”

“Hmm, I'll be sure to let Beloved know that.”

“You know her?!”

“Haha... Perhaps...”

Notes from the actual blog runner:

Hi!!! You can call me Beloved or B <3

I'm an engineering student! Not the best, but I try hehe. My MBTI is ENTP 3w4 and I greatly enjoy long discussions that go on a strange tangent. If I haven't posted in a while or haven't replied to asks/DMs, it's not that I'm ignoring you, something's probably stuck in my eyes after looking at silly math symbols and chemical compounds all the time.

#$ table of contents #$ about the author == true

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wickedlittleoz · 2 years

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another prompt: meggie tries the fire tricks shes seen dustfinger do and gets hurt in the process

like she thinks it's so cool and she wants to learn too and one day she asks where dustfinger learned it and he's like "figured it out myself" and meggie tries to do just that and gets burned and mo finds her crying and she wont tell him what she was trying to do but dustfinger takes a look and knows-

oh the man would blame himself so hard

and maybe later when she has recovered he can teach her some (relatively) safe tricks!!

-G

sorry it took me so long to get to this! hope it's what you had in mind <3

* * *

"How did you start?"

Dustfinger blinks, the world coming into focus again. Sometimes when he's juggling he gets so immersed in the fire that he forgets everything else -- the time, the place, himself…

Meggie stands on the steps by the back door, a safe distance away, clutching at the railing as if to stop herself from sprinting to him. In spite of everything bad that Dustfinger has caused to happen, of the destruction that Capricorn's men caused in this very property with fire, she seems drawn to it. Dustfinger understands why.

He whispers something in the language that the flames taught him here. Somehow, as if obeying him, they settle down.

"Juggling fire, you mean?" He asks, turning to face Meggie now, and the girl nods. "I thought you read the book."

There's a bit of passive-aggressiveness in his response, because everyone here seems to think they know him so well because they read fucking Inkheart. He can't help the hurt; constantly having to prove that he's more than a handful of words on paper.

"It just says you were born with the gift," she explains with a small shrug. "But how is anyone just born with a gift like that?"

"Well…"

He pauses, memories flashing in his mind. Silvertongue, exhasperated and standing in a small, cozy living room, Inkheart fallen to his feet, Capricorn, Basta and Dustfinger staring at him with a mix of fear and wonder in their faces.

Silvertongue, a worn cotton shirt, dark bags under his eyes, that same living room now cold and dirty. Inkheart still open at his feet. I don't know how I did it and I can't do it again!, in a hoarse, tired voice that haunted Dustfinger's nightmares for days, years.

Silvertongue in Capricorn's church, kilos of gold spread around him. Meggie at the stage, calling for the Shadow.

Dustfinger grins sharkily at the girl. "Weren't you born with yours?"

She doesn't say anything in response, doesn't even falter at his expression. And truly, he should know better than to think Mo and Resa's daughter would be easily scared. So he sighs after a moment, already regretting this conversation altogether, and just to get rid of her, he says:

"I had to learn." Turns his back away and picks up his shirt that he'd left on the grass before. "Needed money for food. But anyone can juggle, so I had to do something different. That's when I thought, fire! Everyone loves fire, but they're too afraid to mess with it. Not me. I faced her and I figured her out on my own."

At last she seems satisfied with the answer. A small smile creeps up her face and Dustfinger should know what it means, but he's too busy walking away to realize.

It's only a couple days later that it happens. He's helping Silvertongue in the workshop when the Old Witch barges in.

"Mo, come quick!" She's breathless. "It's Meggie, she's hurt."

They rush to find her sitting in the grass at the exact spot Dustfinger had been that other afternoon. There's a torch burning at her side and she's clutching her left hand, tears streaming down her face.

Guilt knocks Dustfinger's chest so hard he tumbles for a moment.

"What happened?" Silvertongue is already knelt next to the girl. "What were you thinking?"

"I… I wasn't," she sobs.

Silvertongue helps her up. "Let me see it." The girl shakes her head.

"Meg, you have to let me see it. We might need to take you to a hospital-"

"No hospitals!"

"Meggie-"

Sense seems to fall like a brick onto Dustfinger's head; he steps closer to them, killing the torch in the process.

"Farid," he calls and the boy practically emerges from the shadows at his side. "Get me my bag of herbs. I know a good medicine for burns."

Luckily, it's a superficial wound. Dustfinger tends to it everyday and Meggie recovers quickly. She closes off to him, emotionally; looks at him like she expects him to go off on her and tell her how bad she did. He never does, and neither does Silvertongue. There's no need; the lesson has been learned.

Dustfinger does, however, tell Farid to teach her a couple tricks when she's fully recovered from the wound and the trauma. To teach her the safe ways to do it, so she never has to get hurt again. And when she's ready to forgive him, he might teach her as well.

#asks #gremlin #framedverse

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libidomechanica · 2 months

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In this, or a tree

A sonnet sequence

First Verse

Bore, and the gilded girl and coming on one,—and prest the earth as rough the stream hurry by in tranced dulnesse? As I came red. Now her sofa for it. What he owes tries, diaper’d worldly bust. Golden pleasaunce: all with charms their anxious hour and gave his later, help; speak to your motorcycle, afraid of a loveliness breeds that I do, Alpheus! He did prepare those than an Angel with eternity. Her features grace, they’d try it: i’ve been. In this, or a tree.

Second Verse

But wide was she never call me Papa. And, with pleasant: also had my heads indiffering at their state Come, Sleepe, who fain knows when he took, O bliss of tears thou kiss, and grief at the proud heard business is Paradise too sparkled alone; the verse rest at noon my sleep as it there be upon the Potter’s greeting to a blunder, in far away? But of me in fact twas night in my beloved, or when first time teach the leave We shall they are setting by would he rain.

Third Verse

And after their due ablution rolled round, and increase, when themselves, the kings beate were squeez’d from her own, down head; two, I’m younger than fierce; its real and with your job and calmly flowing, and bare straightway started, and betray’d her prone to make me of bread at first expound there assure you transformed by your girls. Nor knew there I lean over, but as it then was the perilous grain in thee into his woman& when some vial; treasure, brave galleries with the boggy summit ….

Fourth Verse

That they tumble, doze, revive, and sulk again with stubborn, and bondage, the Bird is not great a sad distillingly took Juanna, who do ye call Cupid pinion and briers, of sun burned to reade it is, which, in a sweet love henceforth that vanish in most thou! To call curses upon the vines have fallen moisture but in your felicitie. Of muscles go weak with mine, farewell the drops. Cried tress, when the fifteen- hundred maidenhood against the greene saye, the savour and hill!

Fifth Verse

I call, and level gleaming retrograde our round earthward business and other way, left him in a most genius for me I scarce enough for the sonne. Soft lands by my own; and, in the taste free adit; we will, and rich for that he foul failed when May and cried. And on its white till I dream, from the lattice- light and merry-winged Psyche, sorrowing home, a grace, but herself he flew, the yate fast asleep, dust into the shall be crushed with, Let us goe, while the great sports and hid her prayer, until it spills …. Beneath the river; cupid a-shooting westward upon him, depriu’d of heaved in new wonder’d till not. So as so, much needes be bare her than I have passing every sense—thy advocate—and Death!

Sixth Verse

Come hither; so Cantemir can chaunst to all the spirit they have over. Behold his wont to say some pleasure she watching self. May never passions poor thilke God, who breed swim somewhile stand information and woods. What shall weeped, and believer saw you, O ye daughters of wedlock; she look we lie, all forgiven through open its Cup be dry. Nature. But giue apt spring-days, the earth to forst fear no more than the Sunnye beame so bestadde? Of senceles tree?

Seventh Verse

Or the working throne, to fight torch, and I will take the Ladyes thine in his little flowers, from a night now are we, unlike, that God who with chains of woe? Stella euer since all these flowers are swallows what small crowd above a chaste kisse, be broken in a cure than the tide I had despised the roar even by some holy sphere. His eyes; then height, or Counsel—whereby, the garbage tub is mortal bower, trailing whisper her think so, the queers, from Lebanon. In love this?

Eighth Verse

When you that lays on ever still the greatnes of Time is compeers by night of all the last age should be a deadly feel good at my window they bring downwards it within Juan in Calcutta and with golden jewel. That was a jasmine- muffled even in death once against each shalt find it in a royal rights at me! As the the onset come corner wherever images of light. Fear we no model of yet a headlands? You so; i’ll leaves you truly love men’s No.

Ninth Verse

From hunting creatures on its good man, tall, extremely hand. He did not at the found her be the heaven in to see pearl for shade. That evermore the juicy. An offspring at you’d pinch to your child by your childe: who turned; then all soft wondrous morn? To cheered if a man called by beauty growth, is morrows? And silver press you with heavy heart lies have to habit’s power, forgets, because a foolish air that do we reade it is, how rich footsteps; no voice: cause more, hey ho the air, give me no wizardry of the fond tones and yet how fair work of yesterday’s due, of which in hand. Exclaimed her arm that I lean over this same beneath his Friendship bene dedes of pure and guide our heads reflection: but, love.

Tenth Verse

Of Perfumed with some brink? Who will worse that did the sigh’d he tore him, Life’s Liquor or aspirin. Had half- graspable, clabberable, clabberable, table, table, set upon her lips for you oil my scorn; but truth vainly Make: they see aright? So small encheason. Though to hang a trick. With stubborn counsell a thread-bare Penitence from above by them moue; if stones their chaste kiss: dudu was faithfull fringes. Of pain and Grace put for that which Amphions lyre; and terrible!

Eleventh Verse

And enlivening it, that nimble leap to kiss poyson’d their Maybush beare and the speed of wrong, downright thee, or travelling youth, a witless bliss, and silver voice as the Phrygian kings as sweet Electric blades, hey ho seely sheep-track’d I matter; and all neither way: wan was I in heart, unless these hill of praise, nor she stockade or to weep and dangled, while talk’d full widdowe beheld the breezy air; but a shadow, and ever led to shatter objects, the quarters.

Twelfth Verse

Strike athwart the stars my question mountain of elders mix my silence oft as spring; and wisdom is o’er, nor all time. The next she was born a woman’s asexual voice of your body and with no specially sultans too rare, glare, frown, but the centre through the street a Parke i’ve heart, made force were too much loud song, arose, to shine and so right to the loved each ray;—but all keep itself inside its come one half-shut, that I really plants to be a Jew. Their blaze, sees full.

Thirteenth Verse

Unborn To-morrow lend me than shepherds and Slave. Thou hast they began retreating dark and bull; but extremely common Prayer a- going! And oft wondrous morn? Head, would I know how bear think the self- same time slow time, you are these wondrous sweet self-substance, but the Future dread, and so she ascension, the eye, as her said she added, nor awake thy beauteous, so troublers of gold out and I must prouided, the ring, as she that’s be honey of thy dart! Has seized my head.

Fourteenth Verse

The mother to my beer. I thanks; there’s not fierce could not unholy her out of the brought and marvel of years they lie, all loveth: I held an ivory; thine, come, and her still tis so happy melodies are amaz’d, but right sweet virtue never her face; she bowery man has made, ylke can bear your job and choose, and shadow with stars ’light, and bred, and trust, the sleepy Venus, beneath the Spring his indeed, independent moment only. Save the swoon of this night.

Fifteenth Verse

Besides us two, i’ th’ temples beating of some Orient but visions form, dost seed, and snatch they’d try it: i’ve been bolts, and faithful Thames. Of yourself thy thirst with all it anew revive; inspired. Perhaps I was a mother of mass and on the secret Well of yet a heart their statues, borne aloft the pype playd, when thrown it, and, where the raise, and all the pins were whither? His Generation round thing is double like a swimming to upheave may return.

Sixteenth Verse

The arbour round us. And before he errant fog, the little, for the name is so brave gather and plains. And the roses at the deep below, came on, sent in Annihilates the tents. Give me that cleave it! From the Hand of charm of this poor Juanna, the first faults should not unto yon far who brooding o’er thought betwixt Egypt’s pearls bene very thing and a town of a serpent in vain is over too. Ask me not to be gone over the ladies a song forward a brother mammie’s cot, from the lies fast as it can ever come!—Devoid of pomegranates and trees be bare-limbed cheater, if that through THAT Love you got a friend, come with her gloomy arch. Against prouide for casts his own Phaëton.

Seventeenth Verse

Or got rid of thy name— ‘juanna. My beloved, and pour mightier arms, expect from me the fishpools in a slumbering gal, the hall, and bull; but exquisite. Also arose, in middle of sorrow lend the silver: and his lines above by Ensham, down, downright with the blush; the labor of God to rest. Flash to the Maids drest, if men unblest he knewe well as that. Were a princesse the memories like the shepherd vest, and And round the bloated of his Jean.

Eighteenth Verse

Where their charm of felowship, the lists, and does her spells; or their smooth pillours eare dangers convert; or else to trusting summons too; translate it inward its maimed, the scarce secure history and should be with slow dilated child on one can stop in the windows, she might it right inheritaunce: my old self. And than Pittsburgh. The might be enjoy’d, and through wilderness, the red rocks thus all amount of the woman in the find a maiden-like and mone with rolling myrrh, and touch’d.

Nineteenth Verse

In return’d the will. There the best,— a live and was not to say him not fond tones and covering in the Stab of He is as a mixture under than that my feet. Bowed, and bright-hair’d this delight, whereto the beginning against my sweetly singing in a Kirtle of the wild strong, and designed warm shadows in her hand o’er enormous amounts of vice, thus said, Saw ye bonier lass the king saw what cool as lips and did missed or mocked at they don’t tells trembled off their priefe.

Twentieth Verse

Than I cannot boast; I wash off. Thus the wind; and in silken flank’d; while they told him, and said, that test. Struggling, yet, love, t’ acquit such a scope to dauncen ech others, he loved each person, her cheek’s transformed too—that shall return, years for the different: desires, and as I am had rather skim the heard by any charms my very sybbe to me. Make me any man’s breathing was the savour then presume the affair woman. Where dead in my cryes, while their little late.

Twenty-first Verse

To cry for me in fair, wander grapes. For who the rocks, swans, and their bad tasted this sort of time he proud palace to fynd. To go to wayst, till exhales and the thorns, so that she is as Lebanon. A song of lovers did latch, her said—Why ne’er sae sweetes; let us get up early we will I take your thought! So bury me by some good glee, all see; see him—for he is all When was I to dreamless snake I brings of grain in their dwell; if change fashion of forsake.

Twenty-second Verse

Why didst make the disappear to speaking, vacant or in pensive, supporting columns drowne not false Fortune’s might between their new jubilee, where are place. Her eyes were there is goodly row between love- sick shepheard, to syringe-feed thy breast or wrong, down, by his diamond, seem to another valentinel stare aghast the Rose shall I lived, he stood with berry-juice? Be written me, liuelier than not be left your reason to those sad hungry for One whom those powders that.

Twenty-third Verse

And how he pluck; and then, steal away from dim rich wit to what poverty my love, and rising like legion’d sold my Reputation on theirs make a loth farewel to arrive withstands and plight: and lo, it is enchantress with a wayward is not what was a lass there! She gave him in pensive mood, to overslide, or veering o’er her breeding fled away. Without one; she is, voyd: and his book fell down into his own quickly: not as a continue still the place.

Twenty-fourth Verse

Thus sweep around and wished, and size, even in vain! If I, indeed— thou was port; their dream had no human she. Nor graces ligge soft tremor, a calm Dudu had never call the sun’s decline. While that over hearts as light, vpon the darkness beard the tender lighten those folkes prest, nor Dog Star was in the banks o’ Earn, as she brook the breath our rafters of the doubloon, but the fat lizard barks, a son? Should be better over heads of the find the stars. My pipe an’ drum we’ll churn.

Twenty-fifth Verse

Of flower and a thousand jutting eyes; amazement? She came out of concatenation’s straight to changed in a lock with new sorrow: who turned away—and much lesser latitude, I knew not in the revolving to get over-warmth or grown whose gown from the common love is old couch is but at my preserve the girl, who had chose twilight earth, and find all have occurr’d;— gulbeyaz stopp’d, and breast: so still when evening’s on a still I take me once was no more than once again.

Twenty-sixth Verse

A red with rolling dark moved over. Comes Sorrow—most of mass can chaunce make Carouse: divorced retir’d from the Goddess! Made my heart thou know, my Friends, what can afford no praise me thus: that erst upon his espousals, and woodland Queen, her also when all silence drew immortals he is so surely are priuie to dight, as thy broad lucendo, ’ not with her nape of his fancies like the Ruby yield trees, nor wise; the end in came up from ogling breezy air; and I proud heart.

Twenty-seventh Verse

When height with her heart a-dying. Hands do tie mee. All bashfully he might me, and arms. There is a ditty not of us—Pish! I trust the one unto white show by the bloody trial,—alas! Against my wings: and whence far away, was near: O let me melts thereof was this our light decree that happiness, my darling valentine. Artichoke but the pungent Gouda in the smaller. See the octave’s chief music of the elm-tree bright, I fix my side, will be admir’d.

Twenty-eighth Verse

Moe, do such a weightless girth, that when high. Speak to me. What, thou stink of Black bodies hanging. And turn throe the lovers to mend, to be here. At least-wise brink, without asking a Titan on the Bough puts outside of my cryes, was no tear; no, the deems a strangest in hand from the tiny infinity, and no changed round his Highness give it hungry and virgin Knowledge is comely as Jerusalem, by thy musick mard by, stood along to might I trace a feelings.

Twenty-ninth Verse

A living, and an entomologist in his labyrinth of a nearby mountains; then and the sun hath him into two hundredth consume me quite, one pulse that dandled you be: win your dwarf return would not to stombling splendour hurt is left thee thee my beard of grassy floor, tired the heaven find the pale his talke with dew; nor flowers, through a dirty rat. Whose heart, are yon spotted Lambe? In weeks dropt in a borrowe. When other for the tenderness of liberty.

Thirtieth Verse

And my bravery things I do? Maid! But when the theater, urge not further entrap in thy country of the first-born and she fling the lark over they glared upon the verse the stopp’d, and wanton meryment. Thou, O love, it was a nymph of Death madden through the shadows grim head vpheld, who now could it merits not drop of a cock and put it anew revive, and then to the Player goes; and seal’d false hart of sheepe beneath the west by the thorn, and sang the zephyr-boughs!

Thirty-first Verse

And of crystal coffee at there wan and onward fever press message sent in vain; ’tis na love is me, I file the way, not that a man can makest of wit, for none misliue in weeks dropping from Dian: so through, extremely few: I have mown. My happens, this sore party’s fire a ring of a precarious moment in no answer. But she cried, and whither, each further and new babies, as ugly as breath was fierceness bespoke, Dudu said I, bluebirds are not be.

Thirty-second Verse

Fired and fare; no palace in welth and anguist gracelesse he misbelieved my mothers of men unblest he known to clusters of gold, which is heart gone! If I might mine, no voice one deep; my gracious and now, but lacks, and that teares himself up on one chains, so ashamed of Evil—Well, among those highway home, and strong to might but in mind We shall good fledge flies; one that through deep-drawn to dust, like old photographs, and awful I love shorn, which,—taken unavailing airily; with an accents, your prime. And die But Ida spoke through the whither; but oh, alas, I burn, I shall send hid her masculine is blessing breathed thee what’s ground enmesh me, and do not contented to happy wooer, to sadde.

Thirty-third Verse

The lassie, kind and unco wae, to Shepherdess, end in—Yes—then woulde once this coyness, on her eyes these sorrowe, if from those whose rules and in thy voice, and rare. To me. Home till the rest. Stella, food on the pensive more than fierce could you think their stature of Circassia, they smil’d, and be, too eager, on he had teaz’d me evening to those eyes, outbalances which he doth glorify the could be endearing at the waits in my breast, and suddenly one good as Fort Knox.

Thirty-fourth Verse

Leaves he stops—his boyish best of the shore beloved’s, and one of a face hath Love is this bow; his Vellet her window. Not in vain! To boudoir regions, and moon in return’d to the end of racoon tongue, now had you send him run. A rosy sanctuary is violate, its smooth pine, one Moment, but the golden, or like then—i never a bower, if men departing face; whether to the prince or our very side. Faint damask mouth-deep into one shallow air?

Thirty-fifth Verse

Me evening is all you live drink! Draw me, what they soundly slept, not for long parenthesis: I could not a worth of beauty was summ’d in your might share if that rage until tis not so precipitate upon thy cause my tricking Poetry! If I may returne, whose metal woof, like to wonder endymion feeling, loue; heau’n, I trow, lintel, scarce espied: mid hushed with beauty, for such fine golden pleaseth me, a poor Katinka ask’d my Lucia but as it came we?

Thirty-sixth Verse

A chamber—nay, these toying out, an eyes: so short, or talk, of conscience given them while th’ executor to bear thy blacken’d, but amaze no more, dear the dog, and bees, meant nor weep o’er the distant dawn wounds.—Propagation. The long-drawn to heare. Beware. Spoken faith, and here were in the glen o’ green, I roam in pensive, search it in their birth; let him from that you were the gender lovely hand; and pride, that I dare not too well-guided by that, absorb’d in the smell.

Thirty-seventh Verse

And so short at the found her hyde, shee sawe the Vessels; many a Manichean. And have a tip to Lilliput, and be the musk rose up, my loue might be so lively, lordly light seems to love will the lone sparkle, and hath no idea how in thy limits strange! For our sir Iohn, to say, mought woman, and that just in the tender how— not as tyranny of the very creation round me hopped a dwarf replied he thou hadst a pain like flowers first heavenly zone.

Thirty-eighth Verse

He roses were live, supporting! But a little prospect of a captive sooth to say to Allah from whose miserable, table, clabberable. To helpe, does that every year. Expound their del’cat smell they’ve wrang’d their head from times a glittering, all the coming, measure past. The time. With Truman’s day. Sweet love of your smiles at my old lineaments of Selefkia just what any other give a dole of myrrh and faith, she is still to the broken: fear no earth; she is wrought.

Thirty-ninth Verse

Than wine: the grass, stood serene, it may be all my false Art what’s thing all the wane—and ’tis your feature, not importune thereof shall the Kidde. Since saucy jacks that would less promised to married in the breast almighty pass the Geaunt has ruffled lattices, committed to gather that put on your own, resulting fruit was sweep around the first sourse was struggles, leaves. If beneath his whistle a little are the should I leaves are the dark and been with feminine disguise with the cup of which lost as thereof may flowing it with shee thou think the morning the wholsome jellies: nor canst though it soundle near, or deed; she neede be harm’d a tumult to be for the onset comes hapless bound, and before me: thy name?

Fortieth Verse

I see the gusty deck’d her charmed! But Venus to the Seventh—the Seed of wreaths, and enlivening still welcome on in soule, I do there is no more: the sublimest of peace her kissing his window a funnel of yellow heau’nly mind. He told, the floods, ripe fruite the hare I see, how can wine. What I have sworn the Thonder, delicious torment springs; till these noblest things do or do not quell is done its shelter for thy seat by us with into gold and marrow.

Forty-first Verse

Latest with hard too. Dismantling the accord before her fair hues, nor knowing, dwelt an iron gave thy cheere, yet, in my place, one poor Katinka, and guards, till hear he wise! What wad make fault, shatter, said to myself to be. She spring courses upon the chasing stars the boat is still the wrought be better it were laid will be admired this gentle mind, the while her the Disease. Yet still charm of the least then their music, musicall: and answer’d sports and fades, unseen!

Forty-second Verse

I lookèd right recover your lowd desir’d, and sighing, I whet my beloved more nigh by the sleep with my musick mard by, stood by and glasses in flowery tale o’ love henceforth through that they all hoar, bursts gradually up to hide, by Stellaes image passes between while they sit, and what is—neither or sea short? What if I meet has dark around then he turn’d ashes and relax the air that least to yields, she looketh forth and Fate. I hear my mother’s knee, nor tears, the same film over, were friends let it stood a moment when all this den of icy pinnacles, and walk and unco wae, to the Hubbub couch of Thy mother,—not my arms and with house with the woodmen with us, some grape give reward.

Forty-third Verse

His droop, and youth asleep. Whom Juliana’s scorch the wheels of the hearing no such a Snare of all she laid by his bleeding from the turning of a hat, or rather reason that move me! Look vainly in the cry of his graves of the vine of the garden, my spirit seal; I had done if we were gone, and his Queene. Bene thereof of goats, there behind who groan moanings be, to linger on one and character’d the different men of this martial scold, the tide in liberty.

Forty-fourth Verse

Thy face has for ever can companionship to Lilliput, and blythe indifferent here, too, beats all the latch, her heard I not looks at my poor Juanna a chaunst to change from distract of all to Love in my License it is not of Passion farther. But never think thee, gentle resound of a pomegranates and joyous and I with Gin beset they moved like the common have golden keel’d, is left us rock. This later, and desolate, its quietness, Cloe.

Forty-fifth Verse

As much disposed the East, and nature rest amongst found, and so he kept an anguish into my heart was a Veil past my spouseless vow to entranced vows and feed the equivalence and Pride and blonde& when they re-enter’d new; thy voice, to assuage, if asked: Spindleshanks? But now and on he had a long ago. When was not happens, the phoenix builded girl with long to might brings were met by my own horse alone her hue change. While I am black is like to be defilde.

Forty-sixth Verse

A stranger to take he, all soft kind of life of no great Nemesis breaking; she bower, and he bid me kiss, and by the lassie be; weel ken I my ain lassie be; we’ll give and marble vaults. That none, or Wrath consuming flood of them in the other Cup to his own according the fertilize my eyes inspired, that to wood? But by thy mother wounded, friend, with gages from me again—opprest, stiles, over her sweet enforced old woman sidelong ago.

Forty-seventh Verse

The could not kills my sister, my Longing empires, and here, when thou, my muscles go weak with those darkness cry’d: and strong in your person who spat&called the keep your body beneath of Morn when I began to call driven snow. And the world and go about his sleep; for his new-born goddess of the remnant- meat just as the strangle a lass, and waylefull woo: the lily among their meant nor whom Time is blood flowers felt for it seem woe, when to gape for their sweet wearied her, or what they mark the trodden woman, which passing eyes. And my heart discourse; but whether toilet, which the whole halloos of the breath, for it already; that in the Age of dirt is in her loosed shafts so farre out by my mistake?

Forty-eighth Verse

Sunny beam thou abuse the flies as one-and-twenty times found; I took not one or thy love did find philosophise on more wreaths burning streamlet window at his Hour or two before she stole a little torn, red lonely cottage singing birds of sepulchral sites, thou be distant in the day we ran across these slopes; who kept in to flaw, or finn’d withdrew to her first- born and that works overthrow, not of the Orphane, as the village strong inside his still went up true.

Forty-ninth Verse

And in his eyeballs of the fog-born expert in English home, and grass, and lightly tread, a host, of the larks will worse o’er studded, on like Pygmalion’s kingdoms so strong in the breathing thing beams of the altar hear the love, to be romantic and tune you not spoiled in Catherine and made agree: each house a little food, to be, to his breasts like a fiend him; till have astronomy, but once spake, and dyes: a scowl is soundly she asked the others, girt in all is done. Will gulph, and comfort me fast, still aching to have no correct that are this neck seeking winter is a monster of life which the hot desperate beams of Heav’ns so often, often: after a To-morrow? For Younkers Palinode such thing.

Fiftieth Verse

For Baba’s fault, shall be both me from the deeds throw. The more will for ever trouble eyes and then the street; each station kept not how, which made jealous by this a flock, and thee. That thou?—But the vanish’d the roads of Faeries, Giaours, now wrapt in ilka grove, and more unseen the Mower mown. Her fancy free, let him enter instead of a troubled me through wildered, endymion’s claspt with you, Dudu? Or a lighten afar: for if you leave their new jubilee, who mad’st thou?

Fifty-first Verse

Sacred mother, me, these the midnight in her eye. In pink of the thrush and place that I were couch one of us have golden please the morning hand do not reproved, or purple robe he would complaint: tho creeping will forgive you left thee the lilies. Down each gardener Fancy, and wound. No one did fallen life’s offer the chaunge my real and they took away she flesh until it strange, but Right of time, and draw and she sawe that nimble leap up with madden thee; and rare.

Fifty-second Verse

A dusky quite enough for, our height, but one night me in this roof curves huge aquamarine ten times past whip, past thereof everywhere they gave it! No knows, when the whole; it feel to the song for your spirit did, with a high degree, which time me put in her obteine. Doubled sphere I saw a little hill; there is thy choir, and bare straightway, smiling to the game your hurt the warm my trembling, you keep that sang the threescore content with mealy sweetest soueraignties—these walled me from her, youngest day—when the singer, from times, which wears drop by, and he came around of change in man, tall, and keep silence dead, their arms and babes, and in elements; but, after-loss: ah, do not reason, and fourscore valiant senses?

Fifty-third Verse

Brow’s blue as the marvelled, lo! Upon her heart high-favourite honours will but maid! A slightly, who once more contain’s an island never bloody trial needs along within the splash, done that’s the red gold, along their birth; let eares did trip for fondness—I am pain’d, white and heads do come on in old days, and save, should, if you run and eclipsing even look of his past wild. No, no, I don’t agree: each seam gleam luridly. No false bonds of me, again, faintly!

Fifty-fourth Verse

The Road I was before the should be such a though buried channels where has it were, pitied hence. Myself thy mother’s sorry pages; then thee; but not so whence spirit animal and a fancies, patient sleepy eyes do not like a roe or a skimm’d for the sprang fast by the fume of her meant but be give reward it for the first, then presume the after noon, one sha’na steed in Catherine’s reign, whom vertue may some stars do not pardon these, that the ordered away: no longer given to adore in her season for thing they would like her to me! Your favourable males without the breathing, and all are not compared the smallest chick pushed with breed the ground think that ev’n my body, and by reflected her.

Fifty-fifth Verse

With simple soul loveth: I sought fair, my speeds. The voice a wild uncertain, and weep an animal and I love that of this golden brede, lay sorrow, come with her little torn, red grief at this lips are gone. Thy navel is like a cloth’s periphery pinned with love, my spit. For hear my sin, but a conceive; and to spin it recite. For endless main to walk slowly die I knew. Sometime did leaues the snow: my Italy. With old Khayyám and thee, whose principal: smooth excess?

Fifty-sixth Verse

’ The fooled themselves think) to traffic. Dead, I am his: he felt assur’d of his Powers and bouquets of splendour of Prince. Right of the faint damask mouth thou always my sire, grant men have sped, had waned from a Corner of man? And body and by the hole of grain: Love in man, to nursed NO stain’d in their aid: their mother, the air woman of existence, like a coward! My name—at length, and his right to tell, so I turned myself round this mother’s knead, an images mend.

Fifty-seventh Verse

Guest, which reconciled so the rear’d to shake? Her seraglio guess, all shield. Oft hast the throat—it fails—dear goddess of his own quickeness, and fair! Her chair, wandering fate! True, thought seem’d some gan to talk awhile! For antique hour and Agamemnon dead-heavy pressure, or kind love is a singing, can soothing? And, constellation can make a little as the man? No one summ’d in YES, and told her describe, undimm’d by any more, and as my blue throng, which is Solomon’s.

Fifty-eighth Verse

In which them dry; it seething to disappoint we can say, so do I my ain lassie, fair Lesley, the feare not knows: but, ah, his, nor cared nor sighing, as her ties; let him slayne. And with our Feet: unborn To-morrow to me as tuneful as a silly little sleeping to go; but who know the banqueting head sport of the brute blood of the dore street, tis taught me in its real as aspen leave t’ adore in the Future dread, but Juliana’s scorching myrrh, and idle Joan.

Fifty-ninth Verse

The sky prevailing, too, beats all have overcome me: to whom my beloved thee forth three: but in the burn your wall, and naiads fair, my beloved the rest of fraude: ne foreground and fall. Darling dew,—and Death music slew not hollow, a fond Phant’sie, though, if I no more. It strange case to weepe: for I bubbling love’s spicy fannings in a new- fallen, have your soothing; when have fought, incense. Make delicious pleasant fruit, and my love, the Tigris hath a most of a morning-star.

Sixtieth Verse

Then gold was not press you when our beauteous, so as so, much needes beate were to cry; for all burdenous, but mingle good night night to pay the rain shop windows, were a pair who for There I learn to die. Time is my beloved; but the breathing thee; and a beggar before than our ain sweet could never head against you me eternal day; and in the seraglio title, gem, and meek that bring more divine, and was near: O punisht eye shining the cloud of Albany.

Sixty-first Verse

For ever the lives’ my familiar Juice, mething to disfranchise desire still the doors we have fountain-source or pale, with loved. Think to call it flowers my sigh’d, and now it; taunt mine ear, if he charge, wherein I should do not means, to you might it takes all them. In the core; that in twaine, and therefore small causes, and the Apes folish air that holds her songs that I have was a soul began, as on to kiss in such a jocund you truly love’s house, and then fancy into.

Sixty-second Verse

It were, to gather’s despite. Thy proudly echoing, Come! She offended died. Visible, nor bright, with her and in your goodly vessels; many a maiden passion o’erthrows the through that was a Georgians might: a maiden-head. Desires. Of what was still he came upon a shields and thee, how I should be so deep abyss, it may brag we have made themselves, the marke in solitary moan—and waive the maxim for it can’t trust they were it her rising did yeeld; more call?

Sixty-third Verse

All bare the forth, the long wintersection prove, for long for what thou hear my very little space, and in element of my soul began to be admire echoing from my soul, whate’er the midst a gold-tinted light, thought, is it not set about my Lover which Baba vanish’d, less is no child cross into thine own bought before was a warm and listens, stood the nightingale, whose through waters and Sopps in her own arms roundelay. Both me did prove the joint is frenzy insufficient but vision and many a kiss, and wailed its minstrelsy, and, having soft and sound! Labyrinth of life: thus most infernall night nightly dances which is natural rest, nor ever deep profound for thy for mayde delight.

Sixty-fourth Verse

From the clover-sward, suddenly and to costume. Was never he had endure one of the while other poem written mazer ywrought his Eyes may look into the Kidd pittying at that go about my place for this tongue—lute-breath was fiery fly from my son: I tell mama wearied, I know the past wild. When he sets, by degrees, leans sometimes refigures come as a casement and bow and applies saline dominion and the golden butter. Fling his wearied each doorways are strife, that I am calling dark around in midst of modest seed, and, fall breathed hornes did often with voice doth pointing gust any one beareth twins. ’Mong lilies for being from running Time haste, my head, four likes.

Sixty-fifth Verse

Her face the Vestal entry shrink. Thus much loud meander what shadows danced; but far bespreading at the same way to illumine; but a cousin tumble, doze, revive, dear ruin or with grayish leaves we first, one know her straight to care sweet friend thyself corrupting, among there invention quickly: not as a flock of gossamer your virtue kept in a shield, and folds— not his friend or God to refer to. Accuse my latest beauty be true, that her dress his Embleme.

Sixty-sixth Verse

—This is human life’s heart a-dying. Immortal Sovranty—think of this is not yshend you relax Pluto’s brow with every turn, that their own its strategy? And the cowslip-water from thy state are humble princely Grace, this lethal. Oh, Thou, who is agonized head; ere be griefe, with simple call Thee to tread with them while thee with his fairy tail from buried once, Men wander of Guebres, Giue me sayd, be slowly—paced on thine eyes can iudge to be love you live drink!

Sixty-seventh Verse

For the fourth, and from the ages, which grace, but rather mouth is for my beloved’s, and smell. Was drunken said I although her flood is means blisse, as belly is as a space, and one hand here, lighten afar: for oft, when frozen rill, and impulse. And tossing by a shadow of thy sweet unrest, and but of fraude: ne for love and edifying towering among their future heir. With bereave my soule up the rocks nearby mountain’d canopies, spangled up to fall to South.

Sixty-eighth Verse

His eyes may call, lay it, your house, with immerse and Thou or I. Than this shepheards fall in her nape of mine, in each them but love, beneath the light, by spirit of pearls, and to Jupiter: and if thou now flock of sobs began to me in the just ask charity to foot, Philoctetes in woman like Autumne plums ready by the carelesse night. Life, and take delicatest fear such fond Phant’sie, they sit, and thrushes coolly to think, do all the daughter, and ’gan to plains.

Sixty-ninth Verse

To see her interests, which mads they about his day, so sweet solitary felt assur’d of happy me! We know when to depart; alas, and how painfully upon thyself dost taste. I have talk’d a dame of any spirit to rue the vile daily couch is thy affairs of watchmen starlight, even should be sparrow, to learn, nor some suddenly one briefe there by one be pure, how long to might seem woe, bene the hole—The voice singing: Today neither prone to come!

Seventieth Verse

More nearer name, except his head. My horses pull the Koran. Ah, when first releases that Life has a wart. The Power, trailing waves, nor feelings, which them shot by rude nettle-briar, cheats and oak leaves with not thou? No more, till safe therefore in the priefe. A noisy nothing, and then the bride in the door beans and when the Hunter’s Daughter fair, my Little thine hear it, O Thyrsis, still to end. Than when the merchant, to paintersection, like one unto me yon spotted eggs.

Seventy-first Verse

With Predestiniest birds, O beloved, and a wanton naigies that in a decent persona I’ve made are priuie to the deems a strange, and mower both our sound ys significence, she look’dst thou hast thy wit, and natural rest, her god, when thin, that goeth down she scroll is folk, this limbs are hill, and only joyes above. Yet strengthened dearths, or whether toilets—and those of it: with all hem remayne, to his complicate-handed the shore, down-looking hands, who lent his hopes these arms?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #198 texts #sonnet sequence

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undeadorion-archive · 4 months

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I cannot believe Anne Rice started her slutty gay vampire series with the amazingly tragic and handsome figure of Louis then decided to make the rest of the series primarily about his narcissistic, petty, toxic, and abusive boyfriend instead. The guy who was so gross and controlling it took murder to get away from him (he got better, though).

The second book is written by Lestat. In direct response to Louis interview being published. It sets the tone of the most unreliable narrator known to mankind.

I'm only halfway through and I cannot take a single thing that happens at face value. So unless something later the the series not from Lestat's perspective confirms it, I'm going to assume most things are either exaggerated or utterly fabricated in the context of this fictional world.

The whole thing reads like the most over the top YA nonsense. So far there's been no strong through line of conflict or overarching plot other than flat out not believing any of it.

First there were wolves that Lestat was nearly killed by but he killed them and survived. Then he was traumatized for a bit. But then he got a boyfriend and the only conflict what that his father and brothers were awful and his mom might die. But then that was over when he ran off to live in Paris. So then the conflict was trying to survive, but that was over in just a few pages cause he got a job at a theater. Then a vampire shows up and torments him and turns him against his will. And you'd think he'd take at least some adjustment time but then it's like "oh, this is fine, actually."

But then the old vampire kills himself without teaching him anything other than "don't go in the sunlight" and that could have been some beautiful tension of fumbling through the world and trying to survive after having his life turned upside down. But no, he figures it out pretty fast and the old man vampire left him a literal mountain of treasure. So he was fine.

Then he made a faint play at "oh, I'll just feed off of bad people and criminals." But then something happened and he fed on an innocent person and had no real qualms about it and just fed on anyone.

Then his mom showed up in Paris and begged to see him because she'd die at any moment. Then he had to reveal himself to her and tell her what he was. And she was chill with it, and he turned her and she was totally cool with that too. There's a really weak conflict going on after that where he's "cut off" from her, and can't communicate with her mentally. But that's barely an issue.

Since being turned the closest thing to internal conflict he really seemed to have was some self imposed thing where he couldn't talk to his boyfriend anymore. He tried to frame it as some noble and difficult thing while it was visibly hurting the boyfriend.

Then there was the vampire cult who started chasing and harassing him. But that lasts like 2 chapters because suddenly they've kidnapped Nicki, Lestat's boyfriend. Which Lestat didn't even know was missing until they taunted him about it.

Then surprise! The cult leader is Armand, Louis big gay crush. And the cult is really weird about self imposed torment and living in the dark and doing god's bidding and some other weird nonsense. And they have a half dead Nicki in a cage on top of a huge pyre that they're threatening to light, but they only have 3 torches and Lestat easily takes them all and puts them all out. And no one lights another one for some reason?

But then with one magical speech Lestat brings the cult to an end. Hundreds of years of weird rituals and beliefs where they thought that it was a sin to live among humans. And just by saying "But I do it just fine" then all go "Yeah, let's go live like humans!" and the cult breaks up. And then Armand goes feral and just burns all but 5 members of the cult, but Lestat is told this after the fact. Because the last remaining members now totally trust him and want him to lead him. When literally just days before they were trying to murder him and now they're all "omg you're so powerful and amazing and wonderful and we love you."

Oh and after rescuing Nicki, Lestat turns him. And there's a conflict for about 2 days where Nicki won't speak and is just sort of a zombie. Then Nicki goes to the theater where they'd both worked, which shut down because Lestat gave them tons of money to move to London. And there's a whole thing where Nicki finally isn't a zombie anymore because he got his violin back. And he decides to lead the ex cult vampires and they create, get this, the vampire theater. The very one that took Louis in the first book.

And where I've left off has Armand flip flopping between being an absolute monster and being absolutely pathetic. And not at all like the one that Louis met. Like literally begging Lestat to love him, to trying to murder him by feeding on him, to nuzzling him by the fire in Lestat's secret tower.

It just reads so much like a jealous lover who got humiliatingly dumped and is trying to show that he's better than his ex. "Oh, that place he went and got tortured? Yeah, I created that! That guy he had a huge crush on? He begged me to fuck him. And I didn't even like him! And look how horrible he was anyway. And you think I'm the bad guy?"

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lawain-dimensional-heroes · 8 months

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[Maroon's Diary (Training Rin)]

Day 1 - It was Rin's first day so I did what my dad did with me, bring me to the cave of Zen. I brought her there so that Rin could learn how to sense her own aura as the place's special property prevents any aura from leaking from the user's body. It was there when Rin told me about her nightmare.

I didn't tell her directly this cause I could say from the fear in her eyes that was a traumatic nightmare and with the details she told me I instantly knew what that could mean. Her mind and body were giving her a warning, so I promised her that I'd make sure she was ready before even attempting to perform on stage again. Rin wasn't really pleased with it and while I can understand her frustration, I didn't want her nightmare to come to fruition.

Day 2 - I gave her some simple beginners guide on aura users to study. It was important for her to read it as it helps her identify which part of the aura channel is causing issues and what the functions of these are. However I could already tell from the looks in her eyes that she was likely going to skip that the moment she was done with training for the day.

Day 3 - I taught her how to draw her power for the first time. It's nothing that special, just her letting her activate her aura channels for the first time. Turns out she isn't as bad of a beginner as we'd both expected and that's coming from me. Though this meant that she needed a device to limit or blocks her powers completely. Guess it's time to ask dad for his aid again, huh?

Day 4 - We've just finished making her collar and while Rin doesn't have an entity in her collar unlike Hanaka, it did the job well to block her powers. I actually asked Miku and Tsukine for help in the design aspect of the collar since I didn't want it to feel bland for her. Speaking of Miku, she thanked me for giving Rin that collar because she accidentally burned a part of this week's performance's note sheet to ashes. It's was easy to say that she was angry at both of us.

Day 5 - Ah yes, lighting up torches, how that took me back from my early days when I was just a new aura user. This practices her output while also practicing focusing it on one part of her body, her hands in this case. It was at that day I also found out that Rin-- as I expected, didn't read through that beginners guide at all. I was disappointed in her for realizing that. I wanted what's best for her and what's best for the safety of others, she can't just ignore all that all because she doesn't want to study! So I had to demand her to get the basics down by the start of week two.

Day 6 - I didn't teach her much, just redoing some of the same training before giving her homework. Again, she didn't want to do it, but she gave me no other way as bad as it may feel from me. It did give me some time to talk to Miku, who still wasn't all too excited about the idea of her having powers and I understand that. She has been with her since Rin's first debut and she knew her as just an ordinary girl so for her to suddenly gain these powers is understandable. Len was silent about all of this, but I knew that he was concerned about her as well, but not as concerned as he was when she first gotten those powers.

Day 7 - She really demanded me to push her so I did. I decided it was best to go straight for the fireball training since it's a harder skill to master yet an oh so important one as it also focus on keeping the shape of the fire on top of keeping the output focused in one part of the body. And just by today I knew that yup, I knew I made the right choice in that competition to go for the two souls sharing the same body approach. Rin's struggling to make a single fireball and every time she fails it just turned into a big flame. I can't blame her for struggling on that part, it took me weeks to get that mastered, so I knew that she needs a while to get to the lever where it's safe to have her go on tours again.

But I can say this, I am hopeful for the day she gets control over it. Though hopefully for her she doesn't need to use it to defend herself or her friends.

#ic #prism dragon | maroon

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finishinglinepress · 1 year

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FLP CHAPBOOK OF THE DAY: The Firetalker’s Daughter by Regina YC Garcia

ADVANCE ORDER: https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/the-firetalkers-daughter-by-regina-yc-garcia/

The Firetalker’s Daughter honors the power of #mother’s love and tender #teaching, the value of #ancestral gifting and wisdom, the necessity of mourning for movement, and the audacity to hope and act for a more just future. Spun along a motif of fire, these poems carry searing incantations that evoke an awareness of the relevance of the literal, figurative, and spiritual #fires that breathe down lines and throughout time.

Regina YC Garcia resides in Greenville, NC and is a Poet, Writer, Voice Artist, Narrator, and English Professor at Pitt Community College. She holds a BA in Speech Communication with a Concentration in the Oral Interpretation of Literature from The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, as well as a Masters in Education with a Graduate Certificate in Multicultural and Transnational Literature from East Carolina University. She is the 2021 National DAR American Heritage Poetry Award Winner, a 2021 NCLR James Applewhite Semifinalist, and is published in a variety of journals and anthologies. Additionally, she has both written and video poetry featured in The South Florida Poetry Journal, Up the Staircase Quarterly, The Book of Black, Black and…, The Amistad, The Black Light Project (a documentary), and others. She additionally has upcoming work in Main Street Rag, and poetry and voice work to be featured in the Sacred 9 Project, a series of musical and literary compositions, arranged by Curtis Raybon, Director of Choirs at Tulane University. Regina is the mother of three grown sons and one ‘daughter-in-love, and is married to the wonderful Romeo A. Garcia, Jr.

PRAISE FOR The Firetalker’s Daughter by Regina YC Garcia

Spiritual incantation and unspoken ancestral magic singed and sparked my heart, as I moved through the language and gospel of Regina YC Garcia‘s debut collection The Firetalker’s Daughter. Charting a path through her lineage of healers and those who could “talk the fire” out of burns and wounds, the gift passed over her, she burns her own powerful impressions of Black Light onto the breaking world, like an ancestor alive and witnessing. “I cannot talk the fire / Yet, I am Fire… Truth / My ancient magic renders demons cold.” Garcia takes the reader into the depths of self, motherhood, social justice cries, the erasure of Black history by the fires of an all-consuming whiteness, mourning a lost daughter in Breonna Taylor, and yet, carrying an unwavering hope in “the rise of indomitable spirits from the embers.” The seeds of generations are scattered in these blazing words, torched open. These poems— a phoenix rising from, all around us, a world of ash.

–Kai Coggin, author of Mining for Stardust, Incandescent, and Wingspan

The Firetalker’s Daughter is an offering, incantation, and invocation that taps into the power physically or metaphorically of fire. Through expressions of the inner self, Regina YC Garcia’s poems tap into the questions of reconciling fearsome nature with goodness and peacefulness as seen through this divine elemental creation.

Scorching imagery and passion create wisps of smoke. Smoldering narratives become lightning bolts and poetic kindling igniting substantive undergrowth for a brighter day. The Firetalker’s Daughterinvites the blaze that always illuminates the before time of far tomorrows.

–Jaki Shelton Green, North Carolina Poet Laureate

Please share/please repost #flpauthor #preorder #AwesomeCoverArt #poetry #chapbook #read #poems #fire #motherhood

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dancingazaleas · 3 years

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miche zacharias | beauty & the beast

this is for @izukine ‘s ‘fairy tale and mythical creatures’ collab! love you so much liyah <333

tagging: @yeagerslut @xenihime @fiaficsxo @mitsuluv @sukunas-lady @onyxoverride @rintarouss (cus ur a miche fucker. sorry for not warning u abt the tag)

edit: this is unedited, i’m so sorry for any typos.

warnings/tags: cursing, eventual smut, smut, nsfw, romantic sex, size kink(i guess if u squint?), fingering, oral sex/cunnilingus, missionary sex, vanilla

miche was always just a little bigger than anyone around him. he stood like a skyscraper at 6’5, towering over all of his peers. he was more broad one would be at the chest, a tailor once said his bust was around 150 centimeters.

miche was seen as an absolute beast because of this. and it didn’t help that miche’s hair was shaggy, stubble coating his upper lip and jaw, and he had a sniffing problem. he thinks the nose is really what sold everyone.

and in effect, miche was feared. feared by the people in his village, and sometimes even by his own friends. the dark and looming castle he lives in was where he forced to, along with his companions that stood up for the meek man that they called a beast.

the village often sent people who they’ve decided to shun to his estate, expecting for the beast to kill them in cold blood.

in reality, he just sent them to the next village over. he didn’t feel like being disturbed.

it was nothing different when he saw you running to him, tears falling from your pretty eyes while consistently looking over your shoulder. behind you, he noticed a crowd with pitchforks along with torches, screaming for you to get back here to burn you at the stake.

“help!” you cry, “help!”

you stumbled over your own feet, hands clamping down onto his clothed biceps and sobbing while looking at him.

“the next village over is—“

“no! sir, no matter where i go,” you shake your head rapidly, “i will be hunted. hunted for reading the books!”

you looked so desperate clinging onto him, eyes flashing when you cry once more, “you’re the only one who can help me!”

he looks back to the crowd that nears the gates of his home, silently wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you to his chest. the crowd skids to a stop, especially when miche steps forward and manages to yank a pitchfork from their hands.

“this girl is with me,” he announces, jabbing at the air to back them up, “leave now or die.”

the crowd gapes at the sight of you gathered to his chest, but backs off nonetheless. there was nothing they could do against the man that they call a beast.

miche leads you into his home, introducing you to friendly faces that were spread across the house.

“what happened?! did you get rid of the—whoa-ho-ho! who’s this beauty, michey,” someone with messy brown hair exclaims, eyepatch covering their left eye.

“hanji! quit being so disrespectful,” a man follows behind them, tugging them by their shoulders from behind.

“this young maiden was followed by a mob. she read the forbidden books, based off of her words she’s said to me. they planned on hunting her down even if she goes to the next village over,” he leads you past them to a bathroom.

“that’s saddening,” a baritone voice said, the frown evident in his voice, “she's staying with us i’m assuming?”

if his voice wasn’t enough to make you feel small, his looks definitely were. a blond man with bushy eyebrows and a prosthetic arm stood in front of you with something that you can say was a gentle smile. behind him lingered a shorter man, bags hanging from his eyes, one of which had a scar running through it and down to his lip.

“no shit, erwin. miche isn’t heartless,” the crude words make you crack a smile.

miche ignores their comments, “where’s nanaba? she needs a bath and i don’t fully trust her to be alone.”

“what am i needed for,” a feminine person waltzes into the room, a light look on her face.

“this young maiden needs to be bathed with a loose eye on them,” nanaba gently takes your hands into their own.

“what?! why couldn’t i do it?!”

“because you can barely bathe yourself, shitty glasses,” levi grunts and sits on a plush couch in front of the warm fire. you notice he has two prosthetic fingers.

nanaba leads you away before you can hear hanji’s response. you open your mouth to ask a question, but find yourself stuck on what to address nanaba as.

“you can address me as whatever makes you comfortable,” you find that she’s peering at you from over her shoulder.

“oh! i’m so sorry,” you sniffle.

“don’t worry about it, you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. now, what was on your mind?”

“that man… miche, i think the townspeople called him, he’s really kind. he saved me from being burned,” you murmur loud enough for her to hear, “why?”

nanaba took you into a bathroom room and shut the door behind her, “i can’t say i know. the last person he took in was levi, and it wasn’t exactly his choice, more of erwin’s. i think he smells something in you.”

“that’s right, the townspeople wrote that he had the nose of a dog.”

“he does. he’s usually able to tell if someone is good or not just by their scent,” she turns on the bath, “i think he likes you.”

you deny her statement with a laugh, fanning your hand just before you get undressed. you doubt that a beast such as himself could like someone like you.

————

months passed, and as the days went on you found yourself falling in love with miche. the same man who used ‘beauty’ as a nickname for you would bathe in how you’d give a bashful and swat his arm.

truly, he was more like a bear. big and scary, but also cuddly—as much as a bear could really be—and soft. miche had a heart of gold, that much was obvious when he started to wear it on his sleeve.

he cherished his time with you, even if others were around and he wanted you to himself. he loves the wandering gazes you give when you sit under the wisteria tree in his garden. the look of curiosity that brightens your face, eyes wide and staring at the world he used to think was cruel.

miche tried not to be a sap. he hadn’t ever since he was born, and he didn’t want to start now. but he couldn’t help it.

if the world that shamed him and hurt him was able to create such a kind yet sarcastic beauty, then maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought.

but he was scared of hurting you. in more ways than one. mentally, miche was a quiet and seemingly unaffectionate person, even with someone he loved. miche also had a tendency to be blunt at times, and it has made you upset on multiple occasions.

physically, however, miche’s terrified of being with you just because of it. as you’ve observed, miche isn’t exactly small..

but you practically make him feel as such.

especially right now as you crack jokes with him and teaching him how to waltz. it doesn’t help that you’re leading the dance and that he was stumbling over your feet.

“miche, step this way with me,” you’re incredibly patient.

“i’m scared i’ll step on your foot,” you give him a stare.

“you already have,” you laugh, “it’s okay if you step on my foot, you’ll get the hang of it.”

eventually, he’s able to synchronize his steps with your’s. you trade off the leadership to him, hands on his shoulders. he fumbles a lot more than before, leading to you fumbling over him as well. your shoe presses into his own, and you wince for him while muttering an apology. he’s about to tell you it’s fine, but before he can, he’s stepped on your dress. you yelp and instinctively cling onto miche as you fall onto miche’s bed, dragging him with you.

his arm is immediately at the small of your back and his other hand manages to hold himself up. you flop back onto the mattress when he takes his arm away, cheeks flushed red as he stared down at you.

you look so pretty under him, hair spread beneath you and hands laying next to your head palms up. your pretty lips are parted and your eyes are wide and fluttering.

when he realizes he’s staring, he starts to get ready to get off of you.

“wait!” you gently hold his biceps, stopping his once abrupt movement.

your arms reluctantly and slowly wrap around his neck, eyes darting continuously to his face and to your arms. miche’s breath gets caught in his chest when you pull his face closer to your’s.

“miche… can i kiss you,” you whisper, breath tickling his skin.

miche’s too afraid to speak, so he nods.

your lips start to tingling whenever they’re connected to miche’s heat embarrassingly shooting through your body and to your tummy.

when he pulls away, you accidentally let out a whimper and rub your thighs together. miche’s face lights up again at how needy you look underneath him.

he kisses you again, intertwining his fingers with yours and leaning his weight onto them. he subtly shimmies your body up the mattress, tongue poking at the inside of your mouth. it elicits a soft moan from you, the noise shooting sparks straight to miche’s cock.

“love you,” he sighs with his lips trailing down your neck, large hands shyly starting to grope at your chest.

“love you too,” you bite your lip, watching him undo the buttons at the front of your shirt.

“is this all okay,” his lips tickle your skin as he drags them across the skin of your collarbones.

“yes… yes,” you mumble, slipping out of the shirt and your bra and throwing it somewhere across miche’s room.

miche nibbles at the skin on your breasts, fingers pinching your nipples. you sigh dreamily, hips wiggling from where they lay on the bed. he kisses down your tummy and slips the skirt you’re wearing off of your body.

you’re wearing plain white panties, embarrassment hitting you like a truck. miche doesn’t seem to care at all though, just slips them down your leg and throws them somewhere in his room.

you put a hand on your chest when he spreads your legs, trying to regulate your almost erratic breathing. you couldn’t believe that this was even happening.

soft pecks tickle your calf, slowly trailing up to your thigh and to the trimmed hair of your labia. breaths grow heavy when his tongue hesitantly prods at clit, fingers digging themselves into the wild sheets of his bed.

after seeing your small flinches, miche closes his lips around the bud. you immediately throw your head back as he starts to suck and lick at it, electricity shooting down to your toes that are curled over his shoulders.

he slips a large finger into you, bending it with caution. you buck your hips with a throaty moan, sealing your eyes closed when miche picked up the velocity of his pace.

unlike with waltzing, miche was getting the hang of it fast. so fast that he’s already slipping a second finger into you, thrusting it at a teasing pace that wouldn’t be able to get you off.

you cry out, the scent of pleasure coating your entire body. it has miche groaning against your clit, a loud and desperate moan being let out in response.

miche’s slipping in a third finger, continuously thrusting in and out whilst curling them.

“miche! miche!” you let a hand get tangled in his hair, gently tugging as if you were trying to rut against his face.

“gonna cum—oh my god! i’m gonna cum,” you whine breathlessly and miche continues at his pace.

you cum seconds later, legs trembling from where they lay over his shoulders. he pulls away and immediately wipes away your juices off of his face with the back of his hand, immediately rewarding you with a sweet and passionate kiss on your lips. you whimper against his rough lips, fingers tugging at the shirt he still had on.

he chuckles when he pulls away, hastily taking off his seemingly elegant clothing and throwing the sheets over your bodies.

miche knew it was going to make you both hot. and miche knew he was paranoid of anyone walking in, even though he knew that everyone wouldn’t bother him. but still, the sheets acted as a shield from the world.

this time was only for the two of you, no one else.

his hand pumps his cock whenever he starts to guide it to your stretched out slit. you don’t exactly realize just how big miche actually is until the head of his cock is pushing into you.

the sting that shoots through your body is immediate, and you immediately cling onto his back. you bite your lip whenever he keeps slipping himself in, pausing when you’ve managed to get a quarter of his cock inside of you.

you pant as tears prick the corner of your eyes, trying to relax your obviously tense body as miche tries to distract you with soft and gentle kisses. he whispers how good you're doing, even rubbing circles into your clit with the pad of his thumb to help loosen the tension.

when you calm down and tell him that you're ready, he continues to slip into you with slowed movements. the stretch is more painful than before and as he slides deeper and deeper into you, you feel like his cock gets bigger with each inch. you stop him again, taking deep breaths and telling yourself that you can do it. you only had a few more inches left, then you would feel good.

when he finally bottoms out, your breath leaves your chest. it feels like he’s in your throat and the intense feeling makes you cry again.

“so full, ‘m so full miche,” you whimper while he wipes away the tears from your face.

“i know, love, it’ll feel good soon,” his voice soothes you.

when you calm down again, the realization at how every part of miche’s cock reaches you comes down upon you.

“m-move, please, move,” carefully wrapping your legs around his waist, you whisper in his ear.

his thrusts start off slowly and deep, moans falling from your lips each time he bottoms out and the tip of his cock hits your cervix. when he realizes that you’re alright, he speeds up his pace.

the way he ruts into you makes you produce a broken scream, scratching at his back and throwing your head back. you’re already starting to feel that certain knot in your tummy again, and you wanted to try to hold it back but the orgasm crashes into you unexpectedly.

you sound so broken underneath him, digging your nails into his skin and squeezing him close to you.

“fuck! thank you, thank you,” you sob, “love you, love your cock.”

he grunts in response, ignoring how your walls suffocate him. he doesn’t help you ride out the orgasm, only speeding up his pace to chase after his own orgasm.

you whine at the sound of his skin slapping against your’s, heat spreading down to your chest. you’re going to come again with the way miche jackhammers into you desperately.

“miche, miche! fuck—please!” your vision whites out as your body thrashes under miche’s hold.

miche can’t ignore how hard your walls grip onto his cock, groans spilling out of his mouth as his orgasm creeps over him.

he orgasms with a breathy grunt, grinding his hips into yours and pumping his cum into you.

when he comes down from the euphoric high, he kisses your lips. your eyelids are heavy after miche pulls his softening cock out of you.

“love you,” he mumbles against your skin after he’s fetched a wet rag and cleaned you up.

you hum in response, too tired and weak to even reciprocate with words. luckily, he knows what you were trying to say. he pulls you into his warm chest, a soft and satisfied hum falling from your lips.

you drift off with his hand rubbing your back. the last thing you remember thinking was that miche was definitely a beast in some aspects.

#izukine’s 500 event <3 #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #sorrels.moots🌷#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #miche x reader #miche aot #miche zacharias #mike x reader #mike aot #mike zacharias

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sorryimanon · 4 years

Text

Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Warnings/tags: heart warming fluff, language, and suggestive themes

Word count: 2.5k

In which your boyfriend takes it upon himself to pamper you on his day off.

Author’s note: some self indulgent fluff. this is a continuation of dad!bakugou and torch daughter. there will be more. enjoy :)

D/N= daughters name

Katsuki heavily relied on you to babysit your rambunctious four year old daughter during the days when he'd be on patrol from dusk till dawn. Very rarely would he be home before the two of you tucked yourselves in for the night, leaving him to eat the leftovers from dinner alone at the table. As sad as it is, it didn't bother you in the slightest. In fact, knowing Katsuki was keeping the crime rate of Japan low, you were more than happy to become a stay at home mom. Most of your friends tried to talk you out of it, but you were already settled after giving your two weeks notice at your low paying job. Waking up and seeing your daughter first thing in the morning is better than staring blankly at a bright screen all day behind a musty wall, running on nothing but decaf coffee, and sluggishly going to and fro like a zombie.

Ever since your daughter manifested her quirk, you’ve been trying your best to maintain her sudden outbursts while at home. The doctor prescribed it as Torch: the ability to become a human torch and ignite flames throughout your body and fingertips. For now d/n is only capable of setting herself on fire, using the flames as a barrier to protect her from any harm instead of combating. However, sometimes she'll forget to extinguish herself, having you to manually use an actual fire extinguisher on her. Burn marks would litter the outskirts of your shirts, the aftermath ash smudged on your face, and the tiny hairs on your forearms long gone after handling d/n.

Your boyfriend appreciates the way how you compose yourself around d/n, not allowing the temptation to fling the little gremlin out the window prevail, because if the roles were reversed it'd be a whole different story. Sometimes he sits back in his desk chair, after a long night of meandering around the city, and tries to remember the last time you were properly treated. Of course, Katsuki never fails to remind you day and night he loves you through his actions, some including selfish indulgence late at nights, but all in all he didn't lack being the hopeless romantic counterpart for you. He wanted you to take a break from it all, have him handle the at home duties and the slimy daughter. Leaning back against the chair with his brows furrowed slightly, he began to mentally plan out your day already.

It was a Friday when Katsuki forced himself out of the comfortable security that is your arms and walked with light feet to his daughters bedroom. Today is his day off, so he has to make sure everything goes smoothly or else he's going to have more burn marks on his office desk.

He didn't bother knocking first and saunters in the familiar space, the faint snores from d/n somehow relaxing him. Her walls were freshly painted a light shade of blue, the contrast not too saturated to peel the attention away from her posters that covered every inch of her room, all of which were pictures of his prohero colleagues. D/N had to beg for her father to purchase a Deku poster, one of which she saw don display when the both of you brought her to the mall for a quick trip. He internally cringes every time he makes eye contact with the lifeless eyes of Deku when he enters her room.

Katsuki neared his daughter and kneeled down to where his head was leveled with hers, chuckling lightly when finding a small pool of drool collecting on her cheek.

"Wake up little shit," he whispers, nudging her uncovered shoulder with his knuckles, startling her eyes to flutter open. D/n nearly gasped at the sight of her father. The covers that were wrapped snuggly around her fell at the foot of her bed when she jolted up in surprise, eyes brimming with excitement.

"It's today right? Mommy's day!" Katsuki covered her mouth with his abnormally large hand, not wanting her obnoxious voice to blow their cover.

"Yes, but you're gonna have to be quiet for daddy. Don't want to spoil the surprise for mommy, you understand ya little brat?"

Hand still attached to her mouth, d/n nodded her head feverishly, hands clenched into tiny fits. Once he thinks she's shimmered down a little, he finally removes his hand and motions her to follow him.

Meanwhile in the other room, you were still fast asleep, limbs not once switching from their position over the cozy blanket. The chill breeze from the propped window regulated your body temperature nicely, along with the beautiful songs sung by the birds that reside in the trees close by. You stirred awake momentarily, feeling the loss of a presence that's usually laying beside you during these times of slumber. Katsuki's side was empty, the indent from his body molded onto the foam mattress, leaving you to believe he woke up not that long ago.

After convincing yourself to leave the comfort of your bed, you decided to search for the missing blonde. You crack open the door to a weird combination of radio music blaring throughout the house, and the delicious smell of something cooking in grease. It's no doubt your boyfriends doing. He always likes to impress you with how skillful he is in the kitchen. He hasn't made a dish you disliked yet nor will he allow himself to do so.

Standing side by side, minus the height difference, d/n and Katsuki both were too immersed in their cooking to notice you leaning against the island counter, trying very hard to not cry instantly at the sight in front of you. Watching them interact together was definitely something you'd be treasuring for the years to come.

A rush of savory and sweetness infiltrated your senses, the scent strong enough to knock you back to sleep. As if he read your mind overnight, Katsuki took it upon himself to prepare your favorite breakfast dishes. The dinner table made for three already set by none other than d/n, who currently looked proud at her work and craftsmanship. A large vase was propped in the center, a collection of vibrant flowers stuffed to the brim, the water inside almost overflowing. Attached to one of the stems of the flowers was a tag, the handwriting sloppy and hard to decipher.

To my dumbass, love ya - K.B

You felt the delicate touch of your daughter wrapping her hand around yours, giving it a slight tug before pulling you into the kitchen again. Katsuki flicked his gaze to you now, flashing the same mischievous grin you grew to love. his hands simultaneously worked on the food while taming the animal, that is indeed your daughter, from bumping into the pan handles.

"What's all this for?" You asked, the question directly appointed to both your boyfriend and daughter.

"Oh, so I can't treat my sexy girlfriend to a good meal?" he teased while setting the burners to low, letting the food cool off before plating it. Your daughter audibly gagged at the comment and swatted Katsuki's arm.

D/N's tiny legs were faster than yours and reached the cabinet where the plates and cutlery were stored at. To her dismay, the cabinet was higher than she anticipated. trying her best to waiver down the disappointment as she climbed on the sleek marble counter top, losing her footing here and there. Katsuki caught her in time before she misplaced her footing and almost toppled onto the floor.

"May I need to remind you not to climb on the damn counter tops anymore d/n?" he scolded as he put her down before grabbing enough plates for everyone.

Pursing her lips tightly, she crossed her arms and said, "But if I'm going to be a future hero then I have to battle my way through tough obstacles!"

U.A's immense training and work studies came in handy when dealing with d/n's hard headed ideologies. It's been a stressful reoccurrence, having to constantly teach her the importance of being a hero at such a young age. Her impulsive tendencies mirrored the blondes old habit of taking action before thinking. But there was always a saying when storing away your fear and facing danger head on.

"That's true, but sometimes a little teamwork wouldn't hurt. Your father should know a thing or two about that when he was a young U.A student," you said as you patted her head.

"What'd you say shitty woman? Talking crap so early in the morning already?" a strange popping sound alerted you to turn around, only to find Katsuki flaring his flashy quirk with a glare that could splice you open.

But his alarming gaze wasn't the thing that was scaring you at the moment.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT USING YOUR QUIRK IN THE HOUSE! YOU'RE GONNA SET OFF THE FIRE ALARM AGAIN, IDIOT!"

You thought the smorgasbord of a breakfast was the last of your boyfriends romantic gestures, but you should've known better once he demanded you to change out of your sleep attire and into something to wear outside. Not thinking twice about where he was dragging you to, including daughter, you decided to play it safe. He approved on your choice of ripped jeans, synthetic tank top, and thrown on cardigan once heading off to the car.

The car ride to the mysterious destination was short lived as your boyfriend pulled up into the driveway of his old house. Mitsuki stood waiting by the threshold of the doorway, waving her fingers sweetly to whom you can only assume was you and not her only son. She stepped off the porch once Katsuki shifted the car in park, unlocking the doors as well. His mother reached the side where d/n stayed strapped in her seat and yanked the door open.

"Ah my little princess! How have you been? I missed you so much!" She unbuckled d/n's seat belt and flattened her in a tight hug, squeezing till her eyes popped out. "I can't wait to spend the weekend with you baby girl! Are you excited to have a little fun with grandma?!"

"Calm the fuck down, you're gonna kill her if you keep squeezing!" Katsuki's voice boomed out of the window.

"Oh pipe down you little shit I'm not harming her! Also don't talk to me like that! You're old enough to treat me with some respect by now!"

"SHUT UP YOU OLD HAG! JUST TAKE THE LITTLE GREMLIN AND GO!"

After the heated exchange, Katsuki eventually calmed down and drove the two of you back to the house in complete silence. It was quite a shift in a sense of environment wise. By now d/n would be begging you to make her some pudding or pour her a cup of lemonade, then place yourselves in front of the tv watching a random kids program till evening. Tonight you lend the torch to your boyfriend, allowing whatever devious plan he conjured up to unfold.

Before you could shuffle into your shared bedroom, Katsuki placed his calloused hands onto your cramped shoulders. Merely centimeters from your ear, he laid a chaste kiss on the area beneath it, smiling at your innocent reaction to his sudden actions and nuzzled into the crook of your neck. You smelt the familiar scent of caramel and men’s soap, both of which you undoubtably loved when combined.

“Suki?” Upon hearing his nickname, Katsuki quirked an eyebrow at you. “What’s with all the romantic gestures lately? Cooking my favorite breakfast, the flowers, and our daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I love her! It’s just nice not to worry about if she’ll set the curtains on fire again.”

You felt the vibrations of him chuckling behind you.

“Isn’t it obvious? I just want to fuck the shit out of you,” you sat paralyzed by his bluntness. his tuft hair tickled the underside of your chin, earning him an acute giggle from you. “I’m just kidding, pretty face. I figured you needed a weekend where you just relax and did nothing. Let me do all the work. That’s including getting rid of the brat.”

Shifting in his arms to where you can face him, you can now see the adoration oozing from usual heated glare of his vermillion eyes, the scowl long gone and replaced with a soften feature not so many from the outside can witness. To think this was the man you devoted yourself and love for, to allow him to bare witness anything and everything you endure. He’s a man of showing his compassion through his actions, not lousy words of affirmations that anyone could sputter out and proclaim its love. No, he reflects back everything right with the world, even when you felt the weight of it searing through your system, dragging it down with you. The same explosive blonde awaits patiently by the opening for you to enter, no matter how long it’ll take for you to accept his love. Because he’ll be there. Waiting.

And here he is waiting. In your arms to repeat those three words you made out from watching the movement of his lips.

The words leave your mouth effortlessly, the proclamation hanging in the air between you two.

“I love you too, Katsuki. Thank you so much, for everything.” Like so, you kiss the plump flesh of his lips, the same inflammation of your heart burning as before. The strong muscle of his tongue prods your entrance, practically begging by licking your bottom lip. Katsuki grabbed your chin as gentle as he could muster, titling it for a better leverage to explore your mouth in return. Your hands trailed across the defining shape of his collarbones, rubbing any part of his body so that your fingers remained busy. Both of you hum in satisfaction, relishing in the feeling of the intimate moment. To your disliking, he removes his lips from yours and hovers instead, panting from the mini-make out session seconds ago.

“I’m going to marry you some day, mark my words. So don’t act fucking stupid when I pop the question,” he hotly proclaims, not once removing those piercing red eyes from yours. That’s when you knew he wasn’t bullshitting. If there’s one thing you learned about Katsuki over the years of dating, is that he doesn’t throw out promises in the air nonchalantly without keeping them. You can vaguely hear the ominous sound of wedding bells in your ears.

“Sounds intriguing. I always wanted to see you in a suit and tie.”

“Ya know, maybe someday might be tomorrow-.”

You cut him off with a scorching peck, making his eyes widen and dilate with every given second you laid your lips onto his. “Shut up babe and ravish me already.”

A mischievous grin forms on his mouth as he links his arms around the back of your knees and hoists you over his shoulder. He erupted into fits of laughter after hearing you squeak from the abruptness. The door to your shared bedroom came into view, your boyfriend kicking it with his free foot before entering through the threshold.

“You’re in for a long night sweetheart. Now that our daughter isn’t here, I’m not holding back on anything,” he threatens as he lays you down on the comforter.

Another thing you learned from your relationship. Katsuki is always true to his word.

#mha imagines #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x you #mha x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #dad!baku #bakugou smut #kacchan #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsukibakugou #bnha katsuki x reader

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ckbookish · 3 years

Text

BATMAN BINGO MASTER POST 2020

1 "I thought you were dead.": I Still See Your Ghost

Today was just not Dick's day. First he overslept his alarm and was late to work. Amy had been less than impressed at his tardiness... Then He had bungled what should have been an easy take town... But the straw that broke the camel's back was Tim. Dick had forgotten to call Tim.

2 Friendly fire: Fratricide

Jason was pissed. No, Jason was enraged. Yeah, he was enraged at the whole mess his family-- if that’s even what they were to each other anymore-- had gotten him in. It was meant to be a simple night. Break in. Torch the drugs. Maybe shoot a couple of people and go home. But no, Batman heard about his plans and decided that arson was too extreme. “Someone could get hurt.” Well someone had gotten hurt, a lot of someones.

3 Hypothermia: Weekend Commute

Dick Grayson makes his way home during the first snow fall of the year, when he finds himself confused and cold, miles from home.

Chapter two Bruce's perspective.

4 Superman: Bringer of the Dawn

The Aftermath of when the Joker shoots Dick.

Where do you go when your family tells you to get out?

5 Shot: The Gratitude Trap

Bruce finds himself in the dark, a place he never thought he would be when it came to Clark Kent and Dick Grayson. Yet here he is digging for answers, because he is too scared to pick up the phone and call.

6 Two-face: The Better Choice

How do you reconcile the man who was once your friend with the monster he has become? Bruce reflects on how the man he once called his best friend changed. How could the man who helped him foster Dick, hold that baseball bat?

7 Drowning: Omori’s Law

Deep in the sewer's under Gotham, Batman is trapped. There is no back up, no Robin. He is faced with the single truth that he tried to teach each of his partners... You have to save yourself.

8 Found Family: A Restoration from a Resilient Heart

Dick just wants to not be alone with the shadows in the house. Bruce doesn't realize he has lived with them for far to long, and maybe he doesn't have to anymore.

9 Adoption: The Irrefutable Truth

When he reached the reception, he found himself looking around a fairly empty room. There were a few call girls in the corner filling out forms, an older woman holding a dog, a kid that looked about twelve and a middle aged man who looked like he was ready to cry. He knew no one. Dick was about to turn around and head back to his desk when the on duty officer called out to him. Officer O’Conner was one of his fellow rookies, he had a thick accent. Dick thought he might be from Louisiana. “Grayson! Why didn’t you say your brother was coming to see you?” Dick looked at him with his mouth slightly open. There was no way he heard that right. “My what?”

10 Bruises: Mr. Wayne

Tim is new to this. He's only been Robin for a little over six months. It was going well. But now he was going to be fired. Batman wouldn't want a partner who got caught at school with a black eye. Would he?

11 Bruce is dead: You Have One Saved Message

Gotham gossip columns spread lies and smear good people's names. But yet Damian can't help but think maybe this mornings article was true. That despite all his claims of being the true son of Bruce Wayne, he was in fact the only unwanted one.

12 CPR: Vital Signs

Robin wakes to find him and Batman in an exploded factory. With Batman injured and the building burning around them, Dick struggles to get them both to safety.

13 Dad: Storge

Bruce could have sworn his spirit had left him momentarily. The sudden hollowness that filled him couldn’t be explained in any other way.

“Your dad must have his hands full with you.” Elizabeth Ribbons leaned forward and patted Dick’s shoulder, as he reached for yet another slice of cheesecake from a passing waiter’s tray.

Bruce fixed his eyes on the ice sculpture that hid him from view. It suddenly seemed like the most interesting design in the world. The soft lines of the ice on the otherwise insignificant over sized swan seemed like a lead shield... Because Dick would read it easily in his expression. He wanted to be Dick’s dad. But he wasn’t.

14 Stealing the Batmobile: T-Minus Six Hours

Some days Tim is sure that he’s gonna be killed. Usually it’s some luck shot or near miss that made his life flash before his eyes. Not today though. Today he was positive Bruce was going to kill him. Yes, today was the day that Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be put down. He’s not sure that even Nightwing could save him. He was going to go down in history as the first sidekick to be murdered by their mentor. Because the Batmobile was definitely not where he’d parked it.

15 Wayne Enterprises: Amidst the Absence of Meaning

Bruce is worried. He's running on less than three hours of sleep, and way too many cups of coffee. He had messed up. That much was obvious. The question was would Dick forgive him?

A gruesome night on patrol bleeds into Bruce's work day and now all he can wonder is if this is the thing that will push Dick over the edge? Had he finally seen to much pain?

16 Ransom: Sum of My Worth

The ring of the phone seemed to echo through the manor’s still too quiet long, winding halls, and everyone present collectively held their breath. Bruce lunged for the phone.

17 Secret Injury: Hiding in Pain Sight

“What?” Dick asked sharper than he meant to. He was tired.

“Nothing.” Tim said with a small smirk. “Heavy is the head.”

Dick closed his eyes, glad that Tim couldn’t see them. He was so sick of this. Tim, Jason, Damian and Cass all didn’t think he was good enough, well Cass hadn’t said that, but Dick could read her. They didn’t think he was up to the job. Well they didn’t need to tell him that. He knew it.

18 Superboy: An Interlude in Breathing

Tim looked out over the water in a daze. Bruce and Dick had gone somewhere below deck and he was alone. Well there were strangers on the ship mingling and talking excitedly--but Tim gave them no notice. Instead he watched the water lap up against the hull and crash down back to meet the dark, cold waters. They were far enough out that he could no longer see the shore. It was just endless expenses of sea and sky. Something tickled his neck and he started, only to realize he had been crying. It was only a tear slipping under his collar.

The days after the battle of Infinite Crisis

19 Betrayed: Smother

She took another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke roll in her lungs for a long moment before allowing it hiss out between her teeth. The screams from the warehouse weren’t completely muffled by the distance, or the walls. Perhaps she was only imagining them. But then, sounds like that, she didn’t think she could dream up. She jumped after a particularly high pitched yelp. “Get a grip.” She dropped the cigarette and pulled out another. Her hand shook as she lit it. “It’s just some random kid. He’s not--” She bit back a sob. She didn’t deserve to cry. She had no right to tears, not when it was her fault.

20 Crowbar: Breaklights

The mail fell to the ground and the paper smacked the tiles hard. The sound in reality couldn’t have been all that loud, but it seemed to echo around the entryway. Bruce didn’t look at the dropped bills and the invitation to a fundraiser for the new Gotham women’s shelter. He was too fixated on the small stamp with the queen of England's head on it. Wolverhampton.

The large envelope was far heavier then it should have been. Bruce could feel bile crawling up his throat.

He had forgotten.

21 Deathstroke: Debts and Dues

There were some things that were never pleasant, getting caught in the snow without socks, losing your keys, and not being able to remember the name of a song. Having a gun pointed at your chest, Dick felt, qualified as extremely unpleasant. He stood stock still. The barrel of the gun was still hot, it burned slightly as it dug into his sternum. Even with his uniform he could still feel the heat left over from previous rounds fired. He didn’t flinch. He couldn’t flinch. “Move.” “You know I can’t.” Dick wondered if Slade had the guts to do it.

22 Mission Gone Wrong: Murmur in the Quiet Hours

Superman? Clark froze. He knew that voice. But-- he had never heard it sounding so sad. Was that-- no. Clark dove for his phone, still on the counter from when he got home last night. The screen was black. Dead. Clark swore and dropped it. He was in his coat and shoes before it hit the counter top.

23 Kidnapped: Chum

Dick trumped through the leaves, stopping his feet roughly. He relished the sound of the crunch beneath his shoes as he tread on the brown, dead leaves before him. He felt rather justified in his satisfaction. After all the world had taken so much from him, why wouldn’t he do his best to crush it in return. The woods were cool and as he went deeper into them they grew darker. The sun had long set, and the sky was quickly vanishing as the trees grew thicker. Wayne Manor was far behind him. He was never going back. He hated those pristine walls, those old floor boards. He hated the quiet. He hated the stuffy furniture and the rules and the vases and pictures. He hated his new guardian and that… that… Dick couldn’t remember what Alfred was called, but he hated it. The bag on his back felt heavy. It had everything Dick owned in it. Well and a toothbrush that Alfred had given him. But he didn’t think that was really stealing.

24 Riddler: Seeking Silence on Shortwaves

Normally Dick would be happy to listen to Tim talk. In fact, Dick thought it was one of his favorite sounds in the world. Tim rarely allowed himself to be excited about things. Hearing him speak so freely and openly to Bruce and him about his plans was refreshing. Dick only wished it wouldn’t be at the cost of his life.

Batman hadn't always been so strict about talking unnecessarily over comms. When it was just two of them it hadn't mattered, their walkie talkie system had always worked. But now that Nightwing and Robin were in Gotham, it seems insane that they never realized: if only one person can talk over the radio at a time... how could they call for help?

25 Mr. Freeze: Glimpsing the Sun While Trapped in the Rime

He almost called Bruce between his fourth and fifth class. He pulled his phone out, leaning against his locker, and half dialed his number when a warm hand fell on his shoulder. “Hey.” Dick spun around and blinked back black spots as his body protested the sudden movement. A blaze of red hair filled his vision and Dick felt a small fire build in his chest. His face split into a wide smile.

After a run in with Mr. Freeze Dick finds himself feeling odd at school, but he can't go home, not when Barbara's asked him to drive her to Betty's party after school.

#batman bingo 2020 #Master Post #Batman #CK Writes #Nightwing #Dick Grayson #tim drake #Jason Todd #Damian Wayne #Red Hood #Red Robin #robin #My Writing

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