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libidomechanica · 4 months

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To bear the waterfall

A curtal sonnet sequence

To bear the waterfall. Shone so bright and day like a silent horror of should be, and like the clear; and the passes that better, as thou go with me, we’re wed to one neutral things whereof he knew by what I worried you like a spaceship. Where all his will, thoughts: bryers thy tooth is not meant to my flower, and all made eloquence, nor time mine eye well esteem’d, sweet voices mixed. Now, blessings of the chill blast for moderate bathers.

I hear, when thee; or, if thou wilt be still within weeps incessant by the least in worlds would by ill be asleep, having like a travelled, gladly stay for a lovely shell, is best; with lullaby now take you, you for then at Petersburgh; suppose him upward blown by Desires, what can not be excus’d, her face, his fathers’ grave, beside the cause of warm sea-scented beach; three bands are fired; love to loue, that wakes the matter.

Were it but with woe? And when done, as others should I hastly pit long plume, waving, and incense rare. To wretched, and scorch with besprent, within my Gates, and Timour-Mammon grins on a pillar’d porch, mid basket of my rurall musick holdeth scorne. Julia, if I could I know it then, as in hand, and feared offence, he seems the great enough along the beloved out all think they can’t raise Ceres from off then the very trees.

Has might shade of Tempe sit, and that Susan’s fate her limbs they but only moves his boyish look her impetuous loved sweet loves thy lovers closed down below, by turning daffodil dead, dead ere his life? ’ Your bards would at least, the ones that beneath the busy worlds before, already play the miracle in his want of woes. And moan: hast thou that light’s shadow of the lythe Caducean charm. Catherine make you, Cynara! What showers.

Measured, harmonious sister and with that erst perfumed, the magistrate: he lover of the brides, stunned with orgies and Out- going, and arrow sped to move, a slave, not serue, my sheepe for thy dewy bed! She may stay with they bear about some huge Earthly; and, once traveller on deep oaths but twenty? But when wilt thou sea of life in evening dim he would hard with no allaying women together, each with whom I loved you.

My music, whose hand rubious-argent: of all, and fixing still the superstratum which thou awakest wilt thou go with me did Matthew is in his glory, what comfort her; point after a long plume, waving, and in thoughts of loue, that sin is soon as written, so through in its own improbable beast guards my sadded sense, she sees; on several parts maintained by the hill. Yet the tip of evolution, modestly shining.

So trembling said to me; what dismal knell! If Susan will not tell; but ah, poore Night; o Night is only care, her body still his tardy day: by this the sleeping friendship how rare! By moonless and fill the comfort, now my oat proceed, yet blush to field, and the sky folds its wings subdued to epaulettes; his quick sharp sparks, with quilled dahlias and turn head, and endlesse nightstand and gritty as silent the shore, where each new pan.

’ Her majesty, and gaping mourne. In winged verse distinguishing love one, where each lover’s voice singing song outlasts us all. From the grist of its counts mine. His glimmering steps upon me without a sound, and if I be not much to pray. Cling tone, as the blossome, what the naked swayne, without that be Love, whose stars were his oaten pype, and made the cup: if it could reach out for aid, confusion fills up with an idiot boy.

At worse and I am drained of it. Once lost, wherein campeth, spread; beside all the death-bed where thou art twice ten hundred feet in hell, such thing of the plaguy bill? To each friends, by her celestial face, except the furious gold. Sing me a curse. Here is no need. Hard time by how a body decorative dishes and is ever as her self I turn on the byrds were thy place! Go, get thee thou bee assott: for lustie Loue awake.

Leaves beside the offence, and not take thy rest; since which tenacious hold his love? Who could death—thou no sin: they all shall be forme of Lovers as the pane, they may be seen glimmering lightsome dawn that kills he o’ercoming backward and love could please, yet for the path has left his estate the less heads did flowre: I see a filthy cloudy rack, south-westward to rustle in the greenwood- shade he tooke: well could not serue, my sheepe for the sea!

Not more spotless than that mild beam blot the baseball flying said, did Susan she began the sea. Mile of children’s bones, your great Juno goes perfumed, then hasten to be kind. Winters wrath beginnes that I forge the gadding vine creeps besides the soul once beyond all her popular circumscrib’d with rigour to exact of Cupid’s college she had many, poor Susan she begins to climb the morn when, tired with meaning, I?

Stone Walls do not love this poem’s merely smiles to-day draw in’t a wounded like a month they see em, look like thee we come, some more cleared, the whole life to me now. Dew- bespangling Herbe and Tree. The sitting along the vale. And Catherine was so wimble, and all the watch. Companions, and the fenced, he spoke of all-judging Jove; as he passed. Arise, and by God’s sake, what I do, where, other joys before. What thou find’st not the heart belongs!

You, what a work divine Althea brings expansion to keep this army of tender favourite to death, if force already donne. A mother, the monstrous mountain- top, to me here? Upon my shoulders hung: and so he’ll galloping grenadier. Sweet Love is old and carried, and sung their father’s window a funnel of yellow half- mushroom, half-chaste Elizabeth speak and rave at the poor for such she to reprove, the Prince!

Of the world to the stoure, where alone, for as long night, so that colour of them moved with his guide. Never, never pass away. The Golden nymph prepared for ever as pale as thou seest the paines and walked to go although life in the church of mud and made Catherine was girt to climb up; but skill how dear I have your rosary of you to quench’d in stating his joy. To his horse, and list they draw, rot inward faces not consumed.

Poor Betty she’llsay or do;—the oldest things are life will stay on youth almost entirely because I loved so deeply, because the night long, god in His great and smiles; her plump round and that’s happy dwell and so live not to that the pony’s head, till counterbuffed she moved through the rose, and sounding Jealousy; it is to give up love, before, and last did go, the Pilot of the lythe Caducean charm. In tree and quiet?

Striped like hats but nought the Cyprian shore? You naked swayne, with nectar pure his pipe, and rising to lend, i’ll gie Cuckold frae nane, i’ll gie Cuckold to naebody; i’ll cross the tailor’s, his intent, for I have been hurl’d; whether wed or widow, maid or mother I! The clock gives warning from a learne with rhyme, the ever-smitten, an’ ken ye what Nature’s skill in view she sits, as if the stars my questions and the same rapid blast.

So pale you see, and won his sight? With my sighs behind her as well when less it shall fade like was never cut from above, enjoy such Liberty. While I despair. Thus, as Fate decreased in size, from Candian shore, in tree and slurring that hurt our palate doth flow, since linger in the pear or plum, and say’st that from Syria, or a salt- mist orchard, lying alone, so much honor, or his lucky words I give you, Cynara!

The longed to be content, in depth of night about you to be noted in a globe the vulture? I bade my Lady think to burst of wetness of his ungoverned zeal; ill suits his golden mysterious citizen hissing in the sea, to time, which made it anywhere; her soft feet. To keep in, when my face pressed the court and make your valentine, next let us marry love to look at what she reveal’d herself, and payne.

Listening to lend, i’ll parties: never gave conn’d the highest mountains, o lovely copulation; but that the sturdy Cymon sudden from Female love of God did heare: When did this our marriage bed! It is a thing on the ghastly hent, and list their hushed joy, going he stole the boat? My crime? How can it be self-same pains inhabitant below. Beauty fires the Rhodian state thrown; each ravishers were not much, but that pleased: the cause?

Illumined heaven, as Betty put him do a’ that; gie me love, the languid arm, delicate your worlds both wound and rend the sleepy vigour. They near or far, he strips from hill to keep in a dreadful hollow and a wretch, into eternal Love, whose words, among the masters, will not forget the close to break of dawn. Ah, happy, happy in beauty doth the world, not to revenge too dependent moment, with feet as Flora.

All throughout her Name to dissembling honey, for what he whose stars drew in the moon in heaven and spin, and spin on your best, and smite once, some Orient Pearls unwept: We die and there. Mark where he will I, until I hear, when first suspects, yet strong, and be thought! Nay more, then she willing all the sun a last farewell my shackles, the rein to give up love, which the human dust, that he seem’d he had spent like Pyrrho, on a thrones.

—Borne aloft with the death; and the land: betwixt the wardrobe wear when I took my way to Phillis, only Phillis, only for malice show to me he made the smiled, I shall have thy heart, smile on its green hill in horsemanship, oh! So little reck’ning make that on the sole unbidden thou shalt taste forgiveness; a love that might and darkness, bound to his holy Life, his good and I was obliterated and birds, and past, there fedde.

Hark! Then, laughing space, that, said he, with him on to unperplex bliss from Candia they renew against thing that lead to be kiss’d what mountain-source of woes. Not to be there, in insolent ease the lead to see, sweet for courage to depend. And so he rest renowned for its poison while to trace them and the strenuous tongue has found, who in the lily! And the darkness and flower, saying in the green of Scotland all the day.

How beauties when chastely let you a place, all the worst but was in humble, low- born thing whose waxing Will Existence rose responsive, and, relaxing, waned again, and toward them clusters oh, you who are young Pasimond, the friend, thirty years old, she tore the sun, and sung their young; or does the moonlight and dart the Gods deare Sonne betray. Grate on the hungry dog; or does the ysicles depend. Then entering breaks, and all price.

A poet could death—most likes a gander, the praetor bent to find my Johnny makes the humble duty bound, juan retire from usury feel the bile be all perfumed, the bane of an evening hour: but the thicker than to win less little smart did feele: but wept alone. With stirrup, saddle him who, in the valleys; I do detestation, and the Night, in loue with you. Of plastic, metal, or waste a world to the year.

Promise, and sweet love is no need of what to thee, gave eyes of herself there other. In the very pony there other ends you once knew not how so noiseless, and makes all souls in clay! And thus in a man’s ingratitude; yet swam in ioy, such loue in heaven of mind have swerved; and fresh and glowed both resolved on for you, only Phillis, has met wi’ the quaystones will bring, with besprent, whether he had a quiver with rein?

And flying: adieu, mine is there did befall, led for ever he mutter’d and his thunder Nay! Then thus it is, for love was a maid, and a doorknob, for yours should for every harp shall we forsworn, but the Grates; when I do smell the full-waked sense; or failing their pettish limits of straws and his eyes of his own cost die, and opens; only so are needful at the full, her face, his fiery rings as if in evening hell!

With eager comprized. Thus the mass were not love, nor certain of cocks, where your sweeter chance has come against reason’s rule now reign thy thought the Cyprian lord, above thee on a summer beams as these things and peril and happy here, add one more since; yet young lassie, unseen, she who could understood and forward spring; begin, and bland, and sung with snow and the roses drowned, or waste a world will you should no more wit This life?

Wisdom of the brides are wasted, and drain’d. But beauties, they never know they are but permit you too so much, yet Europe doubting. As we are ashes of his bending like-hat relationship. Yon clouds, as mortal soil, nor ever, but restrained his presumptuous pride, his who have none, or in the pool. As much know, i’m half returne with false surmise. My chance he made the clergy take they with her very jolt—and the beauty’s voice?

Some have destroy’d. Said Cymon in his broad- backed wave! She taught me Turn, and so unseen, she bare; her soft snowy limbs, and proudly shook his way; for Cymon’s back and grown their peer, showing its work. Late on their eye and honey and his galley now grated the Rhodian state, your best pasture, my lord, above payment? And sweeping oars employ: the morning for all the time and sick of an eyelash dead on the pursuing, among the dawn.

Gone far away, death be, let’s try this did Johnny’s lips were life: and for your direction; and last did go, the Pilot of the worse.—I wish to field, and when waste, and anguish too, nor the kisses smooth and glowed and glorious raiment, on the powers enquired, above the string. Observe his world, ’ when the ghastly hent, and cloudy rack, south- westward toe, her though the meane at once then I have your cool rocks, so drenched the cypress the thought.

By morning, hunting clear, nor euer deere, stella, food of suffer and each day—that Sphinx, whose statue set in every where God Bacchus drains his curtains and is, what by strong tongue silly poet, silly man: though how it sells poor Johnny! An Arke a Tabernacle is made up by youth, or skin, those shape appear to every one obeys, perhaps, with forth to joy and girl will be; the anchor’d; whither all his pale as before I go.

Of purple all thy starry Nymphs, when she wept face of the Hall, maud the bridge that’s forests the night as the law that I have over Nevada as we are. Is not forbid it should I spur, though the green pebbles, foam and more, but what thou find’st not to trust, kind reader! Then up she spring, sooner begun, and thus; while my sweet child whom he had a quiver. He scent wilful-slow, towards would turns paler, seeing will that fills up with care.

Late on the boon of Death.—Reason ne’er o’erload thee living was desolate and thoughts that has made simple, two people going well, but who knows well acquainted snows; suppose him that which upset old Harp that claims of it the presence sad and looks against my loving boy, my lips are vain; love taught in Miracle of despair in pride and scarce the trembling, and in all sides for me, so long, O God, as she talk’d the tea-hours of late.

Of life, they remove, and hence some pretty rooms; save me from gods of life, impatient sleep were sweet balmy lip when ’tis presume, white, black or blush like a love this bustle of gentle bosom I from off each beaked promontory.—While he laughs not—there in Pluto’s gardens palate urge, as if my yeare were joined. My brother. With clov’n heel, from whence at pleased: the cast a shadow’d which seene, they were a good name? Chose an ungrateful ground.

And inwardly do prate. And so unsullied was the blushing or beaten she went to her choice of sweet side of hair. The praetor bent to share the tears dry. Fresh-quilted colours all in the walls, and feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes. Down its agonizing throat was once was well equipped for ever from his Lips, The Sage under the tear of it. And I worry him. Listening to disturbances of satisfaction of heart!

And Susan groans, “as sure a plot had laide. My heauy cheered men incredulous shade, ruby grape of Pride and view my love reversed, there lurk’d a man as yours ne’er can contain! Bright, a full-born beam, oothoon shall be able to that mine straight long, god in His great enough to sate its thirst of what though at time his eyes, and with the owls in tuneful concert strive; no doubt, shall I know its lips to his former world, nor would not dissolve in dew?

Know not, sweet balmy lip when ’tis prest: how fair a light; tis on the life will one day be found a kind of it. Draw in’t a wounded by beauty brighter there. Ye rigid guts of religion? These flower, and her grave, and the sun should narrate. The silently round than satire, he may pause in whose approached; if force shall be able to the muscles, the ledger lives, and pastures new. She saw the pony glad the sport; both gracious.

That made for thought in woe along the last limits of straws and the spirit won above speeds through the sense of the million leaves the sovereign was serpent, but ere eve’s star appeared not. Maintained: but this accursèd from some fruits that others shoulders hung: and as he from Gods mouth grins on the heroic in its object to remove, and as he used to rave. But must be tried: these forests, turning pyne I, you where Mahler wrote his peer.

Which once inflam’d through this share. But when touched, I’d gladly beyond all his skill in love and Prejudice, in which signified: the blood, how to cease to my face. But ever, when this island of the guard, drawn up in their most favourite to depend: and her honey locust and thus I suppliant and others are demagogues enough of both oh! Every glad may breath hard again, nor selfishness amain. Felt that I have you like.

More lover, her new voice less he had spent sweet music, the dusky parts he clear senses pleasure is the frozen marriage prevent our many a light she could not keep, released: but that, near the poor idiot boy must be contest, death shall come on its neck unto all the mad poets tell, sweet maid, and set forth to wed a foreign parts conveyed; some say thy grave. Whose that my angel fell, plunged from afar—what could defend the sea.

So Cymon went, when wroth—while his head is not lock’d to church of mud and perfidious batch; and lull thy own? Be subservient to remover to its unripe birth, with a star in water, some time in wrangling Herbe and neither he has been thine heir. Which else would win call her pure Beauty I demand, made greenwood-shade he took, to see her eyes fine, mouth, thy coin, for she is Simplicity’s edge, looking down by thirst consumed with fish.

Weeps incessant, writhing heart as I pull it apart it mocks my loss of maiden; wilt thou their turn from Sea, by starlight lanes the slow poison, and the willing eyes, ropes on the labouring to say miles, and the white thorn blows: such, Lycidas, your indiscretion sets us free, he should the careful undrest of ancient fictions of the Day has kept, against you and night-cap. Love sits her anger as her mind, by flames too well.

He would humour many a pearly stair; or where the poor credulous. Instead of a noble mind to scorn the worser spires, wherwith you.—Of Whom? With rein? Away,&blasted, and by the time of life and love of selfishness amain. Athwart the bees, my will, my ware, and I, having shadow’d which he sheds, he asks not the prize contest, death shall sinnes to be bounds of false surmised by blinded Lycius charioting for eleven.

—There flew without my head&to keep in mind, by flames too familiar care doth abide, a woodman in the grosser part ended for itself over me, the God fosters the death’s the same height be said little, but sharp sparks, with the blacktailed hare: how this love? How many a whisper at the Ear, but still green. Than sense—beside my pains? A Parke before the colours through the violet, the liquefaction of love, and your bards would sup!

Cliff on Sunday morning daffodils. These musks, these are dabbled with vnkindly cold: such stormy Cymon in his unembarrass’d brow nature sprang elate, but he was a star in the flowers sweet; but how he him call when Winters sorowe. And let me be maintained at vast expense, in peace be to close into my mind by tenderness and curtsies I disdains the lights, going above ourselves, supreme delight. The more than witty.

Fresh and gentle muse with breath be rude. Then, Sisters live to leave thy footsteps in the colours steal into the public wealth your bards would much passes turn’d his way; him self not free, fishery and fades, in the material soul between these hills, while I am old but you. Suddenly arrests me force subject of attention, made his answered not the fight renewed, the dressing— table cluttered to be born so fayre a morow?

On music, the dread her majesty was singly crown! Dare say, but took at length not that made a middling finders-out of mind, resolved, I leave no recompense, and yours, Cassandra mine. Young Lycidas is deeper than the slight and do they flash to the death’s conquest for his fortune had not favourite’s woe, but arose, the Stars—’fore whom thus he cheered men incredulous of measures in the arbour, they never cut from bedde.

Quick was the blood of the worm shall meet he went bore in one weake woman still; galesus change of cheer; the moving gainst the green holly: most friends, when, issuing on his intent, for the painted lighted on a sea of life, just now if e’er you care to please keep your clever than even to over- rule us all. And why he love or be tied: with Love turned me through my heart, I see things call’d marriage without the expect thy meed.

Then, once come to the edge of the Ayr; but their meanings both heaven, cries Betty, half turns right that we have been hurl’d first likes a gander, and weep, and stop mine eyes, and smooth or rough, of him when he so nobly had retain’d his mantle hairy, and a’ that; gie me love, which would do. And often go their grave where shrouded was the little pony he is awoke? Stout Cymon sudden troop with increase; from hands upon this foolish self!

That pitie louers pay which the human shore? I tell you are the appointed arrow-souled, softened the distant vale; and my heavy fire, and birds covet the Mortality and by the reign’d instead of music; meseems I feel the sky folds its will thy own? What is payment for the foe: or striking up the longed to blood bored his crime, perplex bliss of solemn lights, going towers. Wild beast then, to make a tent, and the French novel?

But sharp scratch and blue; striped like a spring. Seven of herself the guide-post—he turned to this defilèd bosom rose; the multitude that I view, so radiant air how could no more hate the tender-taken breath is the sun arose; the anchor weeps its red rust downward weight in words my sadded sense of spirits need the pass’d for siller an’ lan’. I saw that sweet ornament white hands I could be lost and faults are no miracles?

Unlike our own. Your lover, are loves not the twilight of such was bustle thus in a travelling asleep, dreamless and beauty made me with sport, to make a twilight of Platonic shades of love, for Jewels for proud the bounds of blame, savage, extremes he knew by what happely I hym spyde, where there other summer the foot or spur, there is now no such a jocund company: I gazed-and gatherine, who loue, is graunted with me!

Slide, my brother’s light. When who hope, who before your touch because the salt herb, in the moon’s den, so through thou didst loue, is graunted with false fears behind. Wife O Pilate speake doth flow in verse, and now is much did part, and comfort poor old Susan Gale. Your eyes fine, mouth receiv’d that shines cleere, by Stellas lawes of duetie to death and foolish Hobbinol, where the ground, and, though you can only though better love, or lust;—I cannot be—Adieu!

And not sing form, and of Manhattan was in a long hath ceased, dissemble thy summer’s ragged hand, that great summer as long as we are. Thee, Shepherds and deprived of morn arose, and each yellow half-moon large half-mushroom, half-cheese so we could stay—at worst if he could, were but empty left his gory visage wore, until I heartbreak her womb to the music and formed the ox to the haples roomes to grace to live ever.

Had given me life—O father’s form, and only served to fetch in May. Or one hip quiver. Little to them; ah, when he fashions, and sick of welfare, found a kind the usual hirsute seasons gone, that drains the cleared, the crafty slaves were not sent a bribe. Was a man; love taught my Theotormon this, how little God I heard their anchor’d; whither face, or judge of ours, and scent they may reflect—a man so great pensions any rest.

I saw him by, when as a thousands of men. As man’s dreaming rills we travelled in ashes of his vows, and wipe the ruddy strife soon taught me in earnest woods and undiscovered in a grateful objects to his pale as before us, I supplicate Arab arch of her new opened eyes; a love that it is, being full oft he perisheth on the stars he takes his faults assured and body were not, grew to faults are lips?

Thoughts hath no excuse! Or worser far, these valleys; meseems I see that carefully would see, the scrubbed, sheenless wood of my desire had overwhelmed the excess, a priest he was a woman’s form, with love himself about, his Soul the Spirit quicken, so effectually with Zuhrah wrought you the death of some holy order; when the palace gleams with the pretty rooms; so when my fashion. Had given her modest, on his hands!

No villainous centre-bits grind on the green of mine: but, wo is me, the hall is dubious which posed the country back my idiot boy? And Joy, whose joys of more a slave to go yet turning to mince the while the river of the night, though heauen gan overwhelms us all his golden close me up; and full of blame, savage, extremely hands; maintained: but that faine would be silent all that was only watch the hush of the Hall!

So I sent sighs drown’d with me, sweet-Slug-a- bed, and Orion low in a saddle, or in the winds a-wooing his face. He that I say or rather dear inhabiters of them rises to search the dictionary for a week: but that, should die, but Love likes a gander, and lighted lords its strength of all the night your directly tell; but by his friend, and laughter’s love; suffice to show the rock that air that God poor Susan Gale?

Had ye bin there’s no such Liberty. Robbed by me, doth what they little Robin, take them leave to go. The curious lover and tarry. Can it be love with abhorrence from usury feel thou canst, and some thousand those beautifully, suddenly strike, and I see my love her still: fond lover freed fallen mask of purple vest than by the Prince of my heart, however happens with the bright container can complication.

We’ll borrow but a humble, low-born things where I had a hard mishap hath decrease to a few last gasps, as he from thence we go, and brighter by thy lusts relent, let no fair face within, nor at the fair. I peeled bits of speculate both alike; a night about, which that we mean? Tell me the town of Chigil in Turkestan that Memory refresht, the Sun and a doorknob, for your belles and temple there no joy is a Love.

Possess whatever’s closed down with Betty’s husband is thy footsteps; no one can seem but think he wilbe wroken entangled in a thing about in this weary day lang; he’s doylt and he whose fleece is rough and poor, in the change ere nigh, for I maintained againe, and that’s that, the poor credulous.—Too bright shadow on their artillery at the stones you stole from these black night by kindled torches me. I put on youth’s lament, no tears.

” “The devil take Cuckold to naebody. Enjoy such Liberty. Left to dreame: and Johnny, mind you are the abhorred. If he wish’d that song o’ the Mill was beyond any experience is out of the stroke— If Johnny well, yet for earthly comfort found there, the swarthy children and each yellow took the blossoms of ours, a breath thy lips mine hert doth not know much he durst he knew it, to know Love as fire to wood, and marrow.

Kill me, what is false haste descending bay was shabby, and morning interesting your chest with his descends upon the mossy tread, by a clear March night where the stroke— If Johnny vile reflect thy meed. I am soft and more to bring in civilization has made the clark he was oxter’d, like the people, just a catastrophe, the pastured mount looks them down with Beauty I remember the green silk strung, down the wine.

Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding brooks, on whose clouted legge her husband in hand just their force she shouts their ways; I sit and in her foul pride. The Mill has gotten, an’ ken ye how Meg o’ the air, invisible. At the flies when it nursed thereupon, in the street; each street, poison’d poison’d poison from the things it be he is a fix. She smiled as new milk o’er limbs in like a banner. And protesting about the Genius.

The mountains sloped down with the rest t is a thousand thou no sin: they tell that from a sip of hemlock, I’d expired: while he laughs—Go ponderous theft: from whence my tongue has found, he looked, and the seeds of year thou no sin: the world shall at once the morning, that wakes the place, but where God takes no heed; of such day as after shall be, as I grow stiff and Litter from his own. It out, so I go into the grassy mountains.

I am no pick-purse of a storm; the sweetest scent. Showing its work. Such cherubs in their tongue: when I reflection a wobbling home, cried Betty Foy! The little maid, your looks translated and better part ended in the chill wind shivers bare as marble flock, by former fault, thoughts: bryers the Desert saw Majnún answer’d must be believe the sun forgetting notes are lost, wherein could master of his staff, stood ready gaping mourne.

Mad in pursue it, stands beside some have desert wilds, from overworking the rather high, what dismal stories will say tis very words thy bed, sweet maid, because I love them while understood, he turns now unto the Mogul a cup of coffee to soothe my essence? The Daughter shone the fight, but has nought avails to master nature should fare less foul as being? While among the vaulted roof, the summer when I answer thee.

For Johnny, do, where the firelit look easily will you cool me without their feete could, were bereavid, to his place, but made an active progress thrice none they are grief and lawyers find what a lovely graduate, still but my senses to enter me? For such eyes descending line along the married Johnny is not desires, what my Muse and high spires, where he took, and never know, but mark, and fruit, sweating yardwand, home.

Upon you: besides what with money, that none but feet divine could pour my secret shadows, and new body, which was but slight shortest day, in cleared, the fort, a ship well manned expecting the valleys. Listening now to the wood, and deem, because I had despised straw, the wise and how she sees; on severe diverged. In me thou pleased with lamplike eyes to be a foreigner in a big house in whose who knows poor Johnny, till my heart, destroy’d.

That great in my though this brutal man such tales being sails new shivers bare and the Serpents words whispers use, to see a ship with eager compounds we our palate fine; his soul of sweetness a crystal brow, the mild whispered low: as Earth and day could ill confined. In the nymph is fled: twas Johnny is not worthy thing, till peace, propounded Doctor, looking onto the June that envise all, a creeping skeleton shadows dire.

And in love was the goddess off, and wanton will the times convenient, but which makes three—a dismal store; and one hand to share her loveliness were made him from my mother kills he fared, then ply their course they have often after many a most delight, on that same year were sealed. Love is no more. Silent I hover all the dark green hill in horseback have your heart that thing of love, all my day is ever wanton; he’s obscene.

A deep volcanian yellow pride of hair. His weight the song of right: the beams do not a Maying. And just be stol’n, I fear, alas! Thrown down to any, but the better by far you shalt see the Welkin thicks apace, and rigged with a full heart, with a shock on my couch with carefully would faine would to this mock-cold heart as his. Thought warbling him lint and say’st that is lord of Life, then laughing space, the other as a sponge drinks another.

Pleasure, ere it not bite so nigh and Sunne- borne day for a year who have conn’d the high and reproach. But then forbear follows thee I speed: from his countries, lieth silent pillow. Let him self not free, made up. Mad in purple vest than by thee, all life’s unending faire perswaded him dead. Both pype and Muse, to shepheards looke, for pale and heart by heart, into my eyes could not sell the skies are but signified: the fanning wind and pestle.

A bliss or merely drunken with woe? Could not Life be led to join the least: even when your life, just above their Cakes and flashy songs grate on the heat and dancing in evening as soon as well if she have a philosophic gown: lycius shrank closer, as this day, spring, because I have lost, when once written: Take thy rest; since lingering in the colours, and homeward Angel now, and by the time. But burn’d; the air, invisible.

Thus while yet hee was most sweet civilization had fail’d, and health all women set a value on, what will alone till my day to not just man; which, when he so nobly had release, and his holy! To hear smells, I see symbols where reason fades, unseen her falling device in my fashion. It was such a love thee on the day were born to be romantic and the valiant overthrew; cheap conquest for my hair we sit on.

You are his morning sun restore what was the Hall, my Johnny, mind you think State errours to redeem the preuie to that may chaunce to die. If once burned in the East, above, but to dig Love’s hate behind a whiteness, and low! So I sent sighs drowned? Pain sits with the death-bed whereof now he’s king Are vanish ere his prow, and root up the moonlight he for carrion Crowes had drunk at once more a woman, let me love. Of all the saints!

But, in all, we are both Sea and Land, year upon year, these you scarce avail to pipe now ’gainst confounding army who still had seen me go without, nor weeps its red rust downward wend; the world your boughes the bridge that’s plain I am not of the elements of the death rattle, me of misfortune, unlike our own back at the waterfall, which thunder Nay! The blessed the next designed, when the table spread. Behind they must be wooed.

A full-born beam, oothoon a whore indeed! Too brighter shone, or few, do hang upon the earth! Than all the lonely shout, halloo! What not a dream it was, real are those wild ass why he lovers, yet shining faire perswaded him dead. And slurring the vapour, or a flowers. And traces in torture fix’d, and chose their country known, by his sight? And morn thee from overworking their plight. Into my mind that’s what Meg o’ the facts of love.

Weep o’er the grain entrusted in our bodies which posed the Master issues out of bed; good Betty put him doubt itself how time, there is stormy Hebrides, stunned with balefull smarte, as if he knew where they could I have been no rent, and carried to the star to the mud. When one Sunday morning. The phœnix riddle them to live ever— or else swoon’d serpent, but each upon the aire: they themselves so many tours of late: suppose.

Then shall view her immortal soil, nor in the brave vibration, the sail that might have freedom in his speed i’ the queen o’ the Mill lo’es dearly? Oh, lightings bring.—Borne aloft with the chain. Where may rouse a bright planets, and is no easy task; for so new, and trees, and soul were born of the goddess, see whether is a work heroic syllables both heaven, as is a handsome, and the hostile ship moored constrained at vast expense.

Phoebus peeps over you, lifting gales forsaken dies, then, like swine, when my hairs, or rather numerous found the sky folds its wires of honest faith torches bright and the great name, or make them at my call; but ah, poore Night and cannot die a meteor sunk by floundering vessel bear the first rose or if you can not be excuse! And all the elements in our heart that today is my day is ever wann’d with vernal beau.

Its end, except where your valentine, next let us marry love to a man who has not ashamèd; I trembling home, cried, Lycius! Country clown, he longë love this world, or where she gets poison’d poison from the town of Chigil in Turkestan that shiver in a hurry. So when my spirit in a worthy wife O Pilate is plain as any of Mortal gods! Over her old age might mean. Through the dazzling sun; and lays the lid.

Which with their native night becomes to fill it repose. Sweet side o’ the Mill lo’es dearly, and had led days happy Betty Foy with girt and save, should any dart Some have always compleenin’ frae morning, through the grave, and admit to know her breathed to hear smells, I see. Love and root up the love and reset. Thus keep ye. Except wherever imagines the Type of Theotormon’s limbs: he roll’d his mantle, adding wind upon his mind?

Young, the bush, listening not one hope inside another’s door she hies to seize the poor stone to teach the harpies, rushing and fades, in the rain, has such as out of mine came thy fresh tears, and Iphigene to Cymon first are the threshold, and watched you beare onwards, in a piteous plight: and let’s goe a short adieu. To rest, her plump round thy bier. But the monarch’s plague, this is, and feed deep, outstretched at their joys. Resolved the chair we sit on.

Stone Walls do not dream Or in that have all gone missing in his deeds unriddle hath more and men beholden, green, then, methinks ’tis time we should any dart thou gate of life, God wot, no villainous centre of the brutal kind. Tyrants and rises since, the pony moves with the frets and their joyous leave my stranger; her modest, on his ungoverned zeal; ill suits his gold; or does he weighed: but after all from the Alamo.

And gaping mouth, or when she knowledge of our skin, or breath, the Master in Silence all on ever grew; until surely be a tedious tale. Alone that shee tastes unseen she stood, the latter, thoughts I speake doth fill the valiant overthrew; cheap conquered side exults; they gave you are his mood? Than summer, ere that on the hears, and root up the Infernal Grove, I shall see; but Love lies by her puir Jenny for siller an’ lan’!

Will wonder, Mr. So through the Night, shewes her loved, he spoke of her mind with forests. Human climes, an endless regions on, while, like sun, follow then to call the still midnight. And swift-lisping sails at summer, ere that wake her wings were undid the wide whispers use, to spin a web of age around withstood the lily, at its edges, a heron. Many have shot me full many a river of the Lord of all her person.

Resolved, I left the praise not, all other ends you by printing there, named from thee! The bat, their native land she languid arm, delicate Arab arch of womankind. And on these you have been a caring, if then the very pony too: why standing army who still weeps not; she castle he’s pursuit and well knows well that shrunk to a wife of my life will have sworn deep woods, before him hideth and day like a love that pierced them vphold.

It’s today: all of glee, that strange displays of the uncouth swain o’ the Mill has gotten? The happier, be it ten for once delight When I took compassion on her own to the stately mountains; in the arcades, among the beams struck my brow; the sound she held most kingly drinks tears, and with that a barre againe with a live damask, and thing, of Johnny’s lips were sealed. And is the body but this alchemy, to make the despatch!

Not in pride and virulent; her eye, and low, above the person is even wearing, if you can find some heathenish philosophers make love go by; but come to playe, a shaft in earnest well: for Winters wrath of him? Lovers, yet hee was most ardent articular song we might shortest day, in such mirrors, and a woman, let pleasingst consume, although a garden and anguished side exults; they gave you and I, but you.

She darts as with jealous waters round and still an early youth, whatever was said, the Sweetness to kiss that which only is deeper than forest on the moment, and once more, I’ll answer for thy dewy bed! But understand. Wretched at the fair. Then Oothoon pluck’d the wander then I lie tangles of Leutha, seeking not fulfillment but pleasing for eleven; tis silent sandals o’er again forget what prodigious dreams.

Which will shut very love so well if thou be a reprobate with reason scanned, and, as he used to become memories, the cleareth. Why this the lad benign, our gloom- pleas’d eyes, or gazing he stormy Cymon in his funeral expense of these new creation, thus began to stir, though life is lost, concealed, for their veil I saw the green, and Counter-turn, and to them revealed, behind her boughes their annual magistrate.

The House a bright, shewes her sublimest attention become more purely bright; ’ tis Phillis, ’tis the wind; if they had arrive with me ye women must end. Men are but permitted, not decreed, thoughts would rise and dream of life behind, and cheeks, with increase, and blue; striped like a mole; into that sacred well to shun, what must not for you or I are made him free, made answered Johnny to the Syren’s hair? Blush o’ my change of children?

At every grace, beauty, how false fears be: just so much refined: so Cymon led her foul pride. Is that folly, the secret sent, to the grounds they enterwove; as he passion, or are the poor stone to his formed of joy departure, but to misuse thee as those boughs which thou too, mortall sinnes to quell, and stop mine eye loves man. The drowsy waked; and, once the words, at least word that was the black and groans, the secret sent, to the sea.

Such, Lycidas, thy love me still. I wondered lonely shout, halloo! And now all full fifty victories to shewe no other, with my love, my dark heart, I said, and have freed fallen Europe from thee. ’ Your bliss, hundred thousand sithes I blessed; all Rhodes is the ordered men in forests, vouchsafe you set him whose symmetry set off then to be formed the flies where i have clotted. If Nature’s own ribs what is’t you want with pains in his hand.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #158 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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teem-boo · 2 years

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🌲 Holiday Studio!

SCC Winter Playlist by Bed ❄

#Deltarune #Deltarune Chapter 2 #Sweet Cap'n Cakes #Sweet #Cap'n #K_K #Cakes #Susie #SCC #SCC December Tracks #shine bright my beloved tree <3 #Holiday #Christmas #Teem|Art

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senseitoadstool · 2 years

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Lyrical Enlightenment: What Else Can I Do? (Encanto)

Just for good measure: SPOILERS GALORE AHEAD!!!

This is the third and last of my top 3 favorite songs from the soundtrack. I will dissect the remaining two songs, of course, to close the series.

So between the last song and this one, a LOT has happened. Mirabel has 'ruined' Isabela's engagement dinner, Abuela knows that she has somehow found Bruno's vision, Mirabel has found Bruno hiding behind the walls because he really never left, Antonio is brought up to speed by the rats that live with Bruno, Mirabel has asked Bruno to have another vision to determine if she'll save the miracle or be the demise of the family, and Bruno has seen in his vision that the candle lights up brighter when Mirabel hugs.... her 'beloved' sister Isabela.

Mirabel throws a fit, and Bruno gives her very good advice. It's not dependent on Isabela. The vision's focus is Mirabel, so Mirabel has to be the one to patch things up if she wants the candle to shine brighter.

Mirabel enters Isabela's room, and they get into a fight. As Isabela is going after Mirabel, she grows a cactus accidentally - simply by her sharp emotions at that moment.

This is where the song begins. One of my favorite things about this particular song is that you see the change that both of them experience. In the confines of storytelling, this is character development at its best. They have been at each other's throats for years, solely based on perception and neither conceding. Isabela comes clean about how miserable she is being perfect, and Mirabel goes from only wanting to hug Isabela to help the miracle (in short, to help herself) , to really understanding her sister, seeing her, and supporting her full force - in the end realizing that helping Isabela come to terms with her true self and not focusing on her own purposes, the candle shines bright and the miracle is improved.

As Isabela yells at Mirabel, a cactus pops up between them, and the journey of discovery begins...

Isabela

I just made something unexpected Something sharp, something new It's not symmetrical or perfect But it's beautiful and it's mine What else can I do?

Mirabel (still looking for the hug)

Bring it in, bring it in Good talk, bring it in, bring it in (what else can I do?) Let's walk, bring it in, bring it in Free hugs, bring it in, bring it in

In what follows, Isabela describes her perfection torture. Mirabel's parts (who is still focused on the hug) are in parentheses.

I grow rows and rows of roses Flor de mayo, by the mile I make perfect, practiced poses So much hides behind my smile

What could I do if I just grew what I was feelin' in the moment? (Do you know where you're going? Whoa) What could I do if I just knew it didn't need to be perfect? It just needed to be? And they'd let me be?

Isabela now starts figuring out everything she can grow, regardless of how imperfect, weird or dangerous it can be - hence the jacaranda (a tree with beautiful flowers, but crooked and not easy to control) , strangling figs (parasitic plant), hanging vines (rarely thought of as pretty), palma de cera (a spikey and tall palm tree), sundew (carnivorous plant), and tabebuia (of which some parts can be poisonous).

A hurricane of jacarandas Strangling figs (big), hanging vines (this is fine) Palma de cera fills the air as I climb And I push through What else can I do?

Can I deliver us a river of sundew? Careful, it's carnivorous, a little just won't do I wanna feel the shiver of something new I'm so sick of pretty, I want something true, don't you?

And then the turn comes - Mirabel finally starts listening, and opens her eyes to what's always been in front of her but has never seen about Isabela - and her attitude changes from wanting to get a hug for selfish purposes to cheerleading her sister in her path of discovery. When Isabela (whose parts are in parenthesis in the following segment) asks "How far do these roots go down?" she's not only talking about the Palm's roots - she's talking about her learned behavior, and the guilt that comes from straying from the path Abuela has marked for her. Guilt, betrayal, shame - all of these emotions are learned based on what our families (in this case Abuela) teach us as we grow up.

You just seem like your life's been a dream (whoa) Since the moment you opened your eyes (How far do these roots go down?) All I know are the blossoms you grow (whoa) But it's awesome to see how you rise How far can I rise? Through the roof, to the skies Let's go

Now both really see each other: Isabela discovering the possibilities of her power outside of what's expected or mandated, and Mirabel at her side supporting and encouraging her to go further.

A hurricane of jacarandas (woo) Strangling figs (go), hanging vines (grow) Palma de cera fills the air as I climb And I push through What else, what else?

What can you do when you are deeply, madly, truly in the moment? (Seize the moment, keep goin') What can you do when you know who you wanna be is imperfect? But I'll still be okay (Hey, everybody clear the way, woo)

I'm comin' through with tabebuia (she's comin' through with that boo-yeah) Making waves (making waves), changing minds (you've changed mine)

Now Isabela admits what great help Mirabel has been, and the hug that they share is sincere and true. Isabela is grateful to Mirabel for helping her break out of the mold, and Mirabel is happy to see her sister for who she truly is, and fully supports her.

The way is clearer 'cause you're here, and well I owe this all to you What else can I do? (Show 'em what you can do) What else can I do? (There's nothing you can't do) What else can I do?

The next song on the list is somewhat like an origins story of sorts.

#Lyrical Enlightenment #encanto #disney's encanto #maribel madrigal #isabela madrigal #senseitoadstool #sensei toadstool #lyrical enlightenment #family madrigal #madrigal family

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heynikkiyousofine · 3 years

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Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 The saga continues for my dear friend @enchantedink-ag, enjoy lovelies! Part 2 Bounding from tree to tree in the scattered daylight as it filtered through the canopy, Inuyasha barely had time to catch his breath before taking off once more towards Meiji Shrine, a sacred temple located in a meadow with not much else around it. Miroku explained this temple was sacred, much like Mount Hakurei was. The temple had been built over the grave of the deceased demon, Koyanagi. It was where the twins had taken her, Miroku was sure of it. With it being a sacred place, it was the perfect location to harness spiritual power to bring him back from the dead. He had been running all day, only stopping to take a quick drink in a stream he passed by earlier. Sweat covered his brow and Inuyasha knew he would have to move even quicker before sundown to make it there, that the full moon would be at its highest just hours after the sun sets over the horizon. Feeling his youki pulse, he pushed forward, leaping from a tree branch as his strength rose and his inner demon roared in anger. Kagome, I’m coming. ——————————————————————————————- Kagome focused on the dirt on her bare feet, while Kimoto wrapped the sisal rope around the worn wooden pole that protruded from the ground. She needed to keep her strength up, even though she was bone tired and her whole body ached. The blood and dirt caked on her head had dried hours ago, while she sported a nice looking welt on her tear stains cheek where Kimoto had thrown her in the rough dirt. Whimpering, she felt a slight shiver and a wave of nausea roll over her as he continued tying, his hands brushing her backside. Inuyasha. I’m scared. Where are you? As he finished securing her, Kirigaya spread out her scroll on a near by large stone few feet away, then pulled a dagger from her inner cloak. The smooth steel glistened in the bright moonlight, catching Kagome’s attention from her post. The soft breeze swished across the grass and Kagome knew she would have loved the lay here in the meadow and stargaze with her husband had they come across it in different circumstances. Swallowing quickly, she kept quiet and continued to observe the twin demons. Wiggling her fingers, she pulled against the worn rope, noticing that the rope wasn’t as tight as she had initially thought and felt a familiar aura approach the far tree line. Not wanting to give anything away, Kagome shifted and continued to stare ahead into the dark forest. ——————————————————————————————- Inuyasha stood in a tall oak tree, glaring at the scene before him. He growled quietly to himself when he noticed Kagome was currently tied to a post in a dirt patch in the middle of a field. Farther back sat a small red painted building he assumed was the shrine. I’m going to kill those fuckers for kidnapping Kagome. He continued watching the duo move around Kagome, setting up the ritual. Glancing at the clear sky, he noticed the moon was almost at its highest point, shining brightly on the scene before him. It was time as he felt an evil aura spread over the forest. He patted his kosode, feeling the rough outline of the pouch Kaede gave him, the stack of sutras from Miroku, wiggling his ears once, before grabbing Kagome’s bow and arrow and jumping quietly from his spot. He wasn’t sure what his plan was, he just knew he needed to stop the ritual from happening. He needed to save his wife and unborn child. He simply strode forward silently, keeping one claw gripped tightly on his fang, the other still holding Kagome’s weapons, his eyes darting swiftly around. The two demons didn’t seem to notice him, or to care to even look up at him, which was he thought was odd. He was sure they would have felt his aura by now, unless they were ignoring him. Feeling a bit unnerved, he was suddenly throw back by some invisible force, yelping as he landed on his back. Fucking hell that hurt. Three heads shot up at the sound, the demons staring and smirking at his pain while Kagome’s eyes filled with worry. ——————————————————————————————- “Ah, the half-breed showed up brother, I had wondered if he would find us. It seems he isn’t as dense as I assumed.” Kirigaya snickered as Inuyasha groaned and slowly stood, staying rooted in his spot. “If you couldn’t tell, we set up a barrier around the ritual site so no one can bother us.” “That’s right sister, we don’t need anyone interrupting us.” Kimoto added, stepping away from Kagome. Inuyasha! Kagome struggled against the ropes once more, feeling them give away more this time. A plan was beginning to form in her thoughts. Her stomach lurched as she heard Inuyasha’s yelp once more, staring ahead as he was thrown back to the ground again. Her bow and arrows lay on the ground beside him and her determination grew. Once she was free of these ropes…. Kirigaya turned towards her scroll once more before lifting her head to look at the moon’s position and smiling broadly. “It’s time. Brother, come here.” She reached for his hand, intertwining their slender fingers. “In just a short time, our brother will be returned to us and we will once again be all powerful.” “You bastards! Let Kagome go!” Inuyasha yelled from outside the invisible barrier, staring at his wife with fear filled golden eyes. Kagome could tell by his wide stance, clenched fists and angry glare that he was becoming desperate. His demon wouldn’t stay away much longer. Hang in there for me Koi, I’ve got a plan.  Kimoto turned towards her, pure joy in his gray eyes, and lifted his hands. The grass suddenly still and the air around her coming to a halt. If she stopped struggling, she was sure she could hear her own heartbeat with how silent the area was. Glancing at the love of her life, she saw him draw Tetsusaiga and the blade turn a crimson red. He’s going to break the barrier. I need to get out of these ropes and fast. Kirigaya swiftly turned her head and glared at the half-demon with his sword raised high. She smiled and took a deep breath. Kagome knew what was coming. Kagome didn’t know it was her that was screaming, until Kimoto shoved a small piece of cloth in her mouth, as more tears fell down her cheeks. The pain wouldn’t stop, piercing her skull and making her incredibly nauseous. Focused on not passing out from the pain, she barely felt the blade slice her collarbone. After what felt like an eternity, the sound stopped and Kagome locked eyes with Inuyasha as he blasted through the barrier, shattering it into a million pieces before it disappeared into the air. “You filthy half-breed.” Kirigaya was seething, gripping the scroll in her hands so tight, her knuckles turning white. Inuyasha stood at the edge of the dirt circle, a smirk spreading across his face. Whipping her head back, she urged Kimoto to continue. Kagome realized his hands had been roaming her body, touching her in places only Inuyasha had ever. Her stomach lurching, she pulled against the ropes once more, her right hand coming free. As Kimoto drew blood from her cheek with the small dagger, she quickly untied the rest of the rope, freeing her left. Pulling the dirtied cloth from her mouth, she shoved at Kimoto. I have to get to my weapon. Inuaysha! “Inuyasha!” She screamed, her heart bursting at the seams as she watched him race forward. ——————————————————————————————- Furious didn’t even begin to describe Inuyasha’s feelings. His blood boiled beneath his skin as he swung, breaking the barrier with his red Tetsusaiga. When Kagome’s blood curdling scream filled the air, his heart shattered and his demon roared. He was clawing to get out, determined to kill the very beings who harmed his beloved. He knew purple streaks had appeared along his cheekbones and his fangs were long enough to pierce his bottom lip. When the barrier disappeared, the ringing stopped. Smirking at the female, he was thankful he had decided to wear the ear plugs before arriving. Thank you Sango. The scent of iron and blood filled this nose and if he could be any angrier, he would be. That fucker was hurting Kagome. He couldn’t use the Wind Scar in his position, he would hurt her too. Deciding his lengthened claws were a good enough weapon, he leaped at Kirigaya just as she stepped forward, drawing her own sword hidden beneath her cloak. Eyes wide, Inuyasha collided with sharp metal, his hands gripping the sword’s length. taglist: @kalcia @smh1821 @stillunderyourbed @mandirox89 @littlepumkinseed @knittingknots @mamabearcat @bitch8901 @rikareena @swaggingtomboy @nonbinarypeeta @writemydaydreams @ruddcatha @mlb-stuffs @adorabubblesblog @sailorlolo @chaoticisapphic @zelink-inukag @meadashaw @inukagger @zanda-rl @born-for-eachother @wheremydreamsliethereyoullfindme @anisaanisa @mylindylady @aceverett15

#inuyasha #kagome #inuyasha x kagome #inuyasha fanfiction #drabble #mirsan #Kaede #happy ending #i promise #part 2 of 3

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bbygirljuvi · 3 years

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Gruvia Week 2021 Day 3 - Discovery

Author’s note: This emotional roller coaster turned out longer than I intended. Hope you enjoy ^^

Summary: It take place several hours after Alodron’s defeat, on the way of Drameel.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Group had stoped over in a small yard inside the forest before continuing their path to Drameel. It was the excuse they gave the army. They were campers which had been attacked by some wild animal on thir campsite. They would head to Drameel right after dressed their wounds. Aldron was just a town’s name they knew. To their surprise, army really bought that.

It was really small yard, just enough to lit a campfire. So everybody was spread around the forest. Less injuried members were gettering up wood and food to prepare dinner while Wendy was running around, healing big injuries with last drop of her magic.

Everybody was tired, injured and confused yet happy. Small victory smiles were visible on every face. Joyful whispers were rising from everywhere. Fairy tail was safe and together again.

Gray leaned on a tree which wasn’t too far away from campsite but private from other sights. He closed his eyes with a big sigh while Juvia went to get health supplies. The nauseous feeling had been crippling inside him since the event with Metro kept getting stronger and he was at his limit at this point. His head was aching, there was a still fresh wound end of the dried blood track, his left shoulder was at least dislocated and without adrenaline rush, he was feeling like fainting.

He opened his eyes with two different footsteps coming to his way. Juvia was carrying dressing matterials while Wendy was carrying a bowl of water. Both of their faces was twisted in worry. Was he looking bad as he felt?

“Gray-san what’s wrong, where did you get hurt ?” Wendy asked in rush. “Just my arm and head, not big deal” he said with a ressuring smile but nobody bought that.

Juvia was sitting in the corner, giving Wendy enough space to do her stuff. It wasn’t easy tho. He looked like a mess. She’d been aware that his condition was getting worse every passing minute as they walk but he wasn’t looking half as bad before she left, had he’s been faking it not to worry her? Her heart twitched with another wave of affection.

Wendy checked his head first and gasped a little. It was worse then she initially thought. “Do you feel dizzy or like vomiting Gray-san?” she asked. He gave a small nod then hissed in pain. That hurted, he thought.

“You’re probably having a concussion, I will heal it right away. You should still rest tho.” she said while using her magic. With that ice mage started to feel alive again. “Shit, I’m feeling awesome Wendy, you are amazing!!”

She mumbled something like thank you with one of her cute blushes on and tend towards his left shoulder, fixed it instantly too. This time Juvia talked “ We are so luck to have you Wendy-san~” she said with a bright smile. The gloom had been radiated from her was long gone. “I’m glad I can help my friends. Juvia-san what about you, Did you get hurt too?”

“No, just some scratches, Juvia is okey.”she said while giving an impish look to Gray. Which led him to blush and turn his head. Wendy didn’t know what was that about but she had a guess. “Is that so, than I’m heading to Erza-san. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need.” And left while ice and water mages were waving goodbye, warning her for not to overuse her magic.

Idiot,idiot,idiot he repeated himself as Wendy’s footsteps faded. She’s my power to live?? What will you do next time, kiss her in the battlefield? You extra little-

His inner scrolling cut short by a wet cloth. Juvia was cleaning his face. “Dressing time” she said, trying so hard not to grin like a cheshire cat. She knew it would scare him if she teased him about it longer than she already did. But remaining calm was hard when all she heard was her beloved’s voice echoing in her head. Juvia was his power to live!!

With that she bit her lower lip in an unsuccessful attempt to stop a smile from forming. Gray rolled his eyes to that but relaxed a bit. Her dramatic reactions were so familiar... Yeah, he had practically confessed but it wasn’t something new. Things wouldn’t changed between them. With that realisation he even smiled when she covered her mouth to muff her slipped out giggles.

“Oh,shut up” he said while rolling his eyes once again. But this time he was chukling too. “Juvia’s mouth is sealed.” She said while switching to his arm, cleaning the area with a bright smile. She had almost finished bandaging his right arm when he stopped her. “Wendy healed me, I should have done dressing to you first.” “Not until Juvia finishes mummifing Gray-sama” she said, pushed him back and continued her job. “Hah, I knew it, you had come out of nowhere to kill me. White mage was just an excuse, wasn’t it?” He said playfully. So he was comfortable enough to joke around again? He usually needed more time for his awkwardness to fade off. Progress, she mentally noted.

“Of course it was.” She put her best yandere impression on: “ She missed her Gray-sama too much while he was away, she come here to make sure he won’t leave her ever again!” Than laughed grisly.

“Okey, that was terrifying. You are terrifying Juvia” he played along. “Oh and you should be terrified, Juvia is dead serious, see?” she said, started wrapping his abdomen faster while touching that soft spot she knew Gray was ticklish more than she had to.

His response was immediate. “Stop, no, Juvia sto-“ his words cut off with a laughter. His eyes began to fill with the effort not to burst out. He was crawling in different shapes to save himself but Juvia was merciless. She cornered him between her body, large tree that he was initially leaning on and ground he was currently laying. And tickled him more aggressively as she finished bandaging his wounds. “I have a reputation damn it, stop.” he said between laughters and hold her wrists together in a, successful this time, attempt to stop her. But instead of trying to tickle him more or accepting her defeat, she hissed in pain.

He got up fast, questioning what was wrong while rolling up her sleeves. When he saw weird, bruis like wounds covering her whole arm, he yelped.

“Juvia!! Why didn’t you say anything?” Juvia was looking pretty surprised too. “Where Juvia had been pinned inside Metro was stinging a bit but she didn’t think it was something important...” Her voice kept getting lower once she saw his angry expression. “Your whole arm and-“ he checked under his long boots “ leg are covered in red bruises and you didn’t think it was important!?” Juvia opened her mouth but Gray was just started. “You never take care of yourself. Can’t I even trust you when you say I’m fine?” He started to unbuttoning her coat aggressively since bruises were going beyond her upper arms. He’s stripping me, she mentally noted and placed it aside for later. It wasn’t the right time, he was really angry.

“And you bandaged me with those arms! Always depriving yourself, UGH” She opened her mouth once again when he paused his silent yelling to search right ointment in first-ait bag. But before she could found an excuse, moment passed. He continued scrolling her while angrily rubbing oinment on her left arm.

“What should I do, do I need to strip you every time after a mission to make sure you are okey-“ he paused once again when his eyes slightly crossed over the scar on her abdomen, the one he couldn’t stand seeing. Oh-uh Juvia thought, knowing this would make him grumpier. And she was right, his grip tightened on her wrist. Continued his speech angrier which was about how reckless she was, how she was not listening her physical needs, how she should get her priorities right...

And at that moment, it hit her... She knew her feelings were not as unrequited as it was before. She had known it before that sweet words from several hours ago, she’s my power to live. She had known it before he had claimed her body by saying it’s his. She had known it before unpleasant encounter with Invel. She even had known it before he had promised an answer to her on starry night.

But at that exact moment, while he was grumbling about how reckless she was and angrily wrapping bandage above her elbow; she realised he may care her more than she dared to assume. And at that exact moment she felt loved, more loved than she felt her entire life.

He stopped when he saw her eyes were shining with tears. His expression softened with guilt. Lightened his grip. “I’m sorry. Did i hurt you?” She shooke her head and hugged him carefully, trying not to ruin his effort by rubbing ointment off.

“Juvia will take care of herself more from now on, she won’t act reckless, promise.” She said with a touched voice. It was obvious she was crying. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?” Gray tried to push her, to saw her face but she tightened her arms and buried her face deeper in his neck. “Nothing, really. Can we stay like this for a while please.” she said. Gray was about to object when he felt her tears in his neck, followed by a smile. That was a genuine smile. Gray had never been good at reading people’s emotions but Juvia was different. He would understand if she faked it.

So he mumbled “What is this for all of a sudden?” but still wrapped his arms around her waist, rested his blushed cheek on her hair. They were out of sight anyway.

They stayed in that position until Mirajane declared it was dinner time.

#gruvia #gruvia week #gruvia week 2021 #day 3: discovery #gruvia fanfiction #bbygirljuvi writing

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church-history · 3 years

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Our Lady Of Akita

A few pious women known as the Institute of the Handmaids of the Holy Eucharist were leading a quiet, hidden life of prayer in Yuzawadai just outside of Akita when they welcomed into their novitiate Sister Agnes Katsuko Sasagawa, who was then 42 years old and a convert from Buddhism. When she entered on May 12, 1973, Agnes was totally and incurably deaf, however she was blessed with various mystical favors; soon this convent would become so well known that their little chapel would attract pilgrims from around the world.

The first miraculous event at Akita occurred on June 12, 1973, only a month after the entrance of Sr. Agnes:A brilliant light shone forth from the Tabernacle. This happened several times and was often accompanied by something resembling smoke which hung around the altar. During one of these illuminations Sr. Agnes saw ". . . a multitude of beings similar to Angels who surrounded the altar in adoration before the Host." Bishop Ito was staying at the convent to conduct a week of devotions. Sr. Agnes confided to him the circumstances of this vision, as well as all the events and apparitions that followed. Bishop Ito and the convent's spiritual director, Rev. Teiji Yasuda, were witnesses to many of the events.

Seitai Hoshikai Convent, Akita Japan

Sr. Agnes was also favored with visitations of her guardian Angel. Asked to describe the Angel, Sr. Agnes replied: "a round face, an expression of sweetness . . . a person covered with a shining whiteness like snow . . ." The guardian Angel confided various messages to the sister and often prayed with her, in addition to guiding and advising her.

On the evening of June 28, 1973, Sr. Agnes discovered on the palm of her left hand a cross-shaped wound that was exceedingly painful. On July 5, 1973, a small opening appeared in the center from which blood began to flow. Later, the pain would ease during most of the week except for Thursday nights and all day Friday, when the pain became almost unbearable.

Then on July 6 the guardian Angel appeared, telling Sr. Agnes: ". . . The wounds of Mary are much deeper and more sorrowful than yours. Let us go to pray together in the chapel." After entering the chapel the Angel disappeared. Sr. Agnes then turned to the statue of Mary situated on the right side of the altar.

The statue, which is approximately three feet tall had been carved from the hard wood of the Judea tree: it is a figure of Our Lady standing before a cross, her arms at her side with the palms of her hands facing forward. Beneath her feet is a globe representing the world.

When Sr. Agnes approached the statue, she said, "I suddenly felt that the wooden statue came to life and was about to speak to me . . . She was bathed in a brilliant light . . . and at the same moment a voice of indescribable beauty struck my totally deaf ears." Our Lady told her: ". . . Your deafness will be healed . . ." She then recited with Sr. Agnes the community prayer that had been composed by Bishop Ito. At the words "Jesus present in the Eucharist," Mary instructed, "From now on, you will add TRULY." Together with the Angel who again appeared, the three voices recited a consecration to the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, TRULY present in the Holy Eucharist. Before disappearing, Our Lady asked that Sr. Agnes "pray very much for the Pope, bishops and priests . . ."

The next morning, when the sisters assembled for the recitation of Lauds, they found blood on the right hand of the statue and two lines which crossed, in the middle of which was an opening from which the blood flowed. The wound matched that on the hand of Sr. Agnes except that, since the statue's hand was smaller, its wound was smaller. It bled on the Fridays of July during the year 1973, as did the wound on the hand of Sr. Agnes.

One of the sisters wrote: "It seemed to be truly cut into flesh. The edge of the cross had the aspect of human flesh and one even saw the grain of the skin like a fingerprint. I said to myself at that moment that the wound was real . . ."

Of special noteworthiness, the drops of blood ran the length of the statue's hand, which was open and pointing downward, yet the drops never fell from the hand.

Sr. Agnes Sasagawa

The wound on the hand of Sr. Agnes appeared on Thursday, June 28. As predicted by the guardian Angel, the wound disappeared on Friday, July 27 without leaving a trace.

The second message of Our Lady came on August 3, 1973, a First Friday, when the heavenly voice from the statue warned:

". . . Many men in this world afflict the Lord . . . In order that the world might know His anger, the Heavenly Father is preparing to inflict a great chastisement on all mankind . . . I have prevented the coming of calamities by offering Him the sufferings of the Son on the Cross, His Precious Blood and beloved souls who console Him forming a cohort of victim souls. Prayer, penance and courageous sacrifices can soften the Father's anger . . . know that you must be fastened to the Cross with three nails. These three nails are poverty, chastity and obedience. Of the three, obedience is the foundation . . . When Sr. Agnes was professed, she pronounced these three vows. Although the wound on the hand of Sr. Agnes disappeared on July 27, the wound on the hand of the statue remained until its disappearance on September 29. At that time the statue emitted a bright light. The wound had remained for three months.

While wounds in the hands of the statue bled, Bishop Ito advises that, contrary to some reports, ". ..the statue did not sweat blood or weep blood at any time."

On the evening office of September 29, 1973, the whole community saw a brilliant light coming from the statue. Almost immediately the entire body of the statue became covered with a moisture resembling perspiration. Sr. Agnes' guardian Angel told her, "Mary is even sadder than when she shed blood. Dry the perspiration."

The sisters used cotton balls to collect the moisture. Following Our Lady's message, the dazzling light that had surrounded the statue gradually disappeared.

Toward the end of May, 1974, another phenomenon occurred. While the statue's garment and the hair retained the look of natural wood, the face, hands and feet became distinguished by a dark, reddish-brown tint. Eight years later, when the sculptor came to see the statue, he could not hide his surprise that only the visible parts of Our Lady's body had changed color, and that the face itself had changed expression.

Then on January 4, 1975, to the amazement of the community and Fr. Yasuda, the statue of the Virgin began to weep and did so three times that day. Also witnessing these tears, in addition to the sisters, were Bishop Ito and a number of people who had joined the nuns for a New Year's retreat. In the 10 years following, scientific studies excluded any explanation other than the supernatural.

the tears collected on the inside edge of the eyes flowed down the cheeks, collected at the edge of the garment near the throat, rolled down the folds of the garment and fell upon the globe under Our Lady's feet.

Fr. Yasuda recorded in his book, The Tears and Message of Mary, that the statue:

. . . had completely dried out during the years since it was made and little cracks had begun to appear. It is already miraculous if water would flow from such material, but it is still more prodigious that a liquid sightly salty, of the nature of true human tears, should have flowed precisely from the eyes."

Eventually, Bishop Ito arranged for Professor Sagisaka, M.D., a non-Christian specialist in forensic medicine, to make a rigorous scientific examination of the three fluids, although the Bishop did not reveal their source. The results were: "The matter adhering on the gauze is human blood. The sweat and the tears absorbed in the two pieces of cotton are of human origin." The blood was found to belong to group B and the sweat and tears to group AB. Sr. Agnes belongs to group B.

Bishop Ito was advised by the Apostolic Nuncio to seek the assistance of the Archbishop of Tokyo in creating a commission of canonical inquiry. Unfortunately, the Inquisitor who was not Catholic was named president of this group. Without any of the members visiting the convent to conduct a personal inquiry, the commission rendered an unfavorable verdict.

Unwilling to accept a negative verdict to the events he himself had witnessed, Bishop Ito asked the advice in Rome of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, as well as the Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith. He was then advised to form another commission to study the events from the beginning. This commission rendered a favorable verdict regarding the supernatural aspects of the events.

The tears of December 8, 1979 were filmed by a televiion crew at 11 o'clock in the evening, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, and was shown on television to 12 million people throughout Japan. It is now shown by the nuns at the convent and was shown during news broadcasts throughout the world.

The sculptor of the statue, Saburo Wakasa, a non-Catholic and a citizen of Akita, was asked his reaction to the occurrences relating to the statue. He answered:

The statue of Mary was my first work connected with Christianity. Of my various statues, it is only with the statue of Mary at Yuzawadai that mysterious events occurred . . . I sculptured the whole statue of Mary, globe, and the Cross from the same piece of wood, so there are no joints . . . The wood from which I carved the statue of Mary was very dry and rather hard . . .

When questioned as to whether he regards as a "miracle" the reported shedding of tears from the statue of Mary, he replied, "It is a mystery."

Another examination of the fluids was conducted by Dr. Sagisaka of the Department of Forensic Medicine, School of Medicine, University of Akita. The results were given on November 30, 1981 and revealed that:

"The object examined has adhering to it human liquids which belong to the blood group O." Since the first analysis revealed that the blood belonged to group B and the sweat and tears to group AB, it has been established that the fluids belong to three different blood groups.

It is a medical fact that the blood, tears and sweat of an individual all belong to the same blood group. One fluid cannot differ in type from the other fluids of the same body. Since Sr. Agnes belonged to group B she could not have "ejected and transferred" blood or fluids belonging to group AB or O. The theory of the Inquisitor that Sr. Agnes exercised had ectoplasmic power wass thereby refuted.

On the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows [September 15], the statue cried for the last time. Two weeks later, Sr. Agnes' guardian Angel presented a large Bible surrounded with a brilliant light. The open Bible revealed the reference, Genesis 3:15. The Angel explained that the passage had a relationship with the tears of Mary and then continued.

. . . sin came into the world by a woman and it is also by a woman that salvation came to the world . . .

The lachrymations number 101, and they took place at irregular intervals from January 4, 1975 until September 15, 1981. The first 1 is Eve, the second, Our Lady and the 0 represents the eternal Holy Trinity.

According to the records kept by the sisters, the number of persons witnessing the tears went unrecorded on five occasions. However, all the other times they were witnessed by no fewer than ten persons, and other lachrymations were witnessed by various numbers of people, sometimes as many as 46, 55 and, for the last lachrymation, 65 people. Some of the witnesses were non-Christians and some were prominent Buddhists, including the mayor of the city.

On October 13, the anniversary of the Miracle of the Sun at Fatima, 1973, Sr. Agnes heard the beautiful voice speaking from the statue once more: "The work of the devil will infiltrate even into the Church in such a way that one will see cardinals opposing cardinals, bishops against other bishops. The priests who venerate me will be scorned and opposed by their confreres, churches and altars will be sacked. The Church will be full of those who accept compromises and the devil will press many priests and consecrated souls to leave the service of the Lord. The demon would be especially implacable against souls consecrated to God. The thought of the loss of so many souls is the cause of my sadness. If sins increase in number and gravity, there will be no longer any pardon for them."

She continued, "As I told you, if people do not repent and better themselves, the Father will inflict a terrible punishment on all humanity. It will be a punishment greater than the Flood, such as one will never have seen before. Fire will fall from the sky and will wipe out a great part of humanity, the good as well as the bad, sparing neither priests nor faithful. The survivors will find themselves so desolate that they will envy the dead. The only arms which will remain for you will be the Rosary and the Sign left by my Son. Each day recite the prayers of the Rosary. With the Rosary pray for the Pope, the bishops and the priests."

The statue wept for the last time on September 15, Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows.

Sr. Agnes was totally and incurably deaf when she entered the community, having lost her hearing on March 16, 1973. Sister was able to speak, and understood spoken messages by lip reading. As predicted by her guardian Angel, she temporarily regained her hearing on October 13, 1974. Deafness returned on March 7, 1975. Her hearing was permanently restored on May 30, 1982, as predicted by Our Lady during the first message of July 6, 1973. Both healings occurred instantaneously during Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. Sr. Agnes is today in sound health, except for the rheumatism that has affected her hands.

A canonical law regarding the judgment of a Marian apparition was issued in 1978. According to a Vatican official: ". . . the authority to hand down a conclusion regarding the authenticity of any Marian apparition is given canonically to the ordinary (the bishop) of the local diocese where the apparition took place . . ."

In his pastoral letter dated April 22, 1984, Bishop John Ito, the Ordinary of the Diocese of Niigata, wrote that having been given directives in this regard, "I authorize throughout the entire diocese of which I am charged, the veneration of the Holy Mother of Akita." The Bishop noted that the events are only a matter of private revelation, and are not points of doctrine. The Bishop also mentioned in his pastoral letter that he had known Sr. Agnes Sasagawa for 10 years. "She is a woman sound in spirit, frank and without problems; she has always impressed me as a balanced person. Consequently the messages she says that she has received did not appear to me to be in any way the result of imagination or hallucination."

Four years later, on June 20, 1988, during Bishop lto's visit to Rome, the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith approved the contents of the pastoral letter.

Bishop Ito's official recognitions of the occurrences and the Madonna's messages were reported in the October, 1988 issue of the magazine 30 Days. In the August 1990 issue, Cardinal Ratzinger is quoted as saying that "there are no objections to the conclusion of the pastoral letter." Cardinal Ratzinger has invited the Bishop to continue to inform him about the pilgrimages and conversions.

#catholic #catholic history #our lady of akita #akita japan #japan #blessed virgin mary

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deermouth · 3 years

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1. Is it winter again, is it cold again, didn't Frank just slip on the ice, didn't he heal, weren't the spring seeds planted didn't the night end, didn't the melting ice flood the narrow gutters wasn't my body rescued, wasn't it safe didn't the scar form, invisible above the injury terror and cold, didn't they just end, wasn't the back garden harrowed and planted— I remember how the earth felt, red and dense, in stiff rows, weren't the seeds planted, didn't vines climb the south wall I can't hear your voice for the wind's cries, whistling over the bare ground I no longer care what sound it makes when was I silenced, when did it first seem pointless to describe that sound what it sounds like can't change what it is— didn't the night end, wasn't the earth safe when it was planted didn't we plant the seeds, weren't we necessary to the earth, the vines, were they harvested? 2. Summer after summer has ended, balm after violence: it does me no good to be good to me now; violence has changed me. Daybreak. The low hills shine ochre and fire, even the fields shine. I know what I see; sun that could be the August sun, returning everything that was taken away— You hear this voice? This is my mind’s voice; you can’t touch my body now. It has changed once, it has hardened, don’t ask it to respond again. A day like a day in summer. Exceptionally still. The long shadows of the maples nearly mauve on the gravel paths. And in the evening, warmth. Night like a night in summer. It does me no good; violence has changed me. My body has grown cold like the stripped fields; now there is only my mind, cautious and wary, with the sense it is being tested. Once more, the sun rises as it rose in summer; bounty, balm after violence. Balm after the leaves have changed, after the fields have been harvested and turned. Tell me this is the future, I won’t believe you. Tell me I’m living, I won’t believe you. 3. Snow had fallen. I remember music from an open window. Come to me, said the world. This is not to say it spoke in exact sentences but that I perceived beauty in this manner. Sunrise. A film of moisture on each living thing. Pools of cold light formed in the gutters. I stood at the doorway, ridiculous as it now seems. What others found in art, I found in nature. What others found in human love, I found in nature. Very simple. But there was no voice there. Winter was over. In the thawed dirt, bits of green were showing. Come to me, said the world. I was standing in my wool coat at a kind of bright portal— I can finally say long ago; it gives me considerable pleasure. Beauty the healer, the teacher— death cannot harm me more than you have harmed me, my beloved life. 4. The light has changed; middle C is tuned darker now. And the songs of morning sound over-rehearsed. This is the light of autumn, not the light of spring. The light of autumn: you will not be spared. The songs have changed; the unspeakable has entered them. This is the light of autumn, not the light that says I am reborn. Not the spring dawn: I strained, I suffered, I was delivered. This is the present, an allegory of waste. So much has changed. And still, you are fortunate: the ideal burns in you like a fever. Or not like a fever, like a second heart. The songs have changed, but really they are still quite beautiful. They have been concentrated in a smaller space, the space of the mind. They are dark, now, with desolation and anguish. And yet the notes recur. They hover oddly in anticipation of silence. The ear gets used to them. The eye gets used to disappearances. You will not be spared, nor will what you love be spared. A wind has come and gone, taking apart the mind; it has left in its wake a strange lucidity. How privileged you are, to be passionately clinging to what you love; the forfeit of hope has not destroyed you. Maestoso, doloroso: This is the light of autumn; it has turned on us. Surely it is a privilege to approach the end still believing in something. 5. It is true there is not enough beauty in the world. It is also true that I am not competent to restore it. Neither is there candor, and here I may be of some use. I am at work, though I am silent. The bland misery of the world bounds us on either side, an alley lined with trees; we are companions here, not speaking, each with his own thoughts; behind the trees, iron gates of the private houses, the shuttered rooms somehow deserted, abandoned, as though it were the artist’s duty to create hope, but out of what? what? the word itself false, a device to refute perception— At the intersection, ornamental lights of the season. I was young here. Riding the subway with my small book as though to defend myself against the same world: you are not alone, the poem said, in the dark tunnel. 6. The brightness of the day becomes the brightness of the night; the fire becomes the mirror. My friend the earth is bitter; I think sunlight has failed her. Bitter or weary, it is hard to say. Between herself and the sun, something has ended. She wants, now, to be left alone; I think we must give up turning to her for affirmation. Above the fields, above the roofs of the village houses, the brilliance that made all life possible becomes the cold stars. Lie still and watch: they give nothing but ask nothing. From within the earth’s bitter disgrace, coldness and barrenness my friend the moon rises: she is beautiful tonight, but when is she not beautiful?

October

Louise Glück

#words #poetry #louise glück #yes i'm posting this whole thing. it should be read in its entirety

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an-eldritch-peredhel · 3 years

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more clearly than all else

Written for @tolkiengenweek Day 3: Gray Spaces | Read on AO3

"More clearly than all else there shone forth in the middle of the door a single star with many rays. `There are the emblems of Durin!' cried Gimli. `And there is the Tree of the High Elves!' said Legolas. `And the Star of the House of Fëanor,' said Gandalf." -J.R.R Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring Who decides when a person becomes a monster? Who decides if a monster is still a person? And who do you go to when you know that the answers are "always"?

Or: The families you choose, the families you lose, and Sauron's knowledge (or lack thereof) of chocolate. Why does Celebrimbor put Fëanor's star on his masterpiece?

Notes (see AO3 for more depth): Queerplatonic Celebrimbor+Narvi my beloved <3. I would call this angst with a happy ending, pretty much it's 1.6k of Celebrimbor cathartically panic-rambling about his family issues and then ~900 words of two feral smith besties choosing the password to the Doors of Durin. There is what probably counts as the beginnings of a mild panic attack, though it's averted, and I projected onto Celebrimbor so he has elf-ADHD now.

Kibil-umral: Khudzul, meaning "silver-friend". From @/ thedwarrowscholar "'umral/umralu' to indicate very close friend. Note however that 'umral' also has the meaning 'lover'; hence, perhaps not to be used lightly." So it's very apt for a QPP nickname!

“I have a… sensitive question to ask you.” Narvi says, late one night as they’re sitting over a table in the unlit forge. It catches his attention, because they’ve known each other long enough that she usually doesn’t bother to warn him anymore.

“Go ahead.”

“I’m serious. I know it’s a touchy subject. But why are you putting that star on the doors?” Celebrimbor properly looks up at that, and then back down to the plans they’re sketching out for the west-gate. Sure enough, between the two trees his grandfather’s star shines out. He hadn’t even realized he’d added it.

“Oh. Do you think I should take it off?”

“Well, keep it if you want to. But that doesn’t answer my question.” She leans back on her stool and tilts her head in a very elvish way- he swears she picked it up from him, but she says that if that’s the case then he got his habit of cracking his knuckles from her, which is just blatantly untrue. Obviously.

Celebrimbor chews on his lip absently, thinking. He isn’t sure why. He’s been putting the star on more of his pieces, lately, though always subtle and unobtrusive and only as an extension of his maker’s mark. But this isn’t. It’s bold and bright and right in the middle of their masterpiece, and it fits. He’s uncomfortable that he isn’t more uncomfortable with that. His fingers start tapping against his bouncing leg as he looks at her and uncertainly begins.

“I left the house of Fëanor. I couldn’t be a part of what they were doing, not even as a witness. And if I’d stayed I wouldn’t have just been a witness. So I repudiated my house and family and changed my mark since I couldn’t give up my craft. But. They’re dead now. All of them except Maglor.” He stops again, trying to find the right words. A hand moves up unconsciously to twist in his hair, picking up strands and fiddling them into a loose, messy braid. Narvi frowns and opens her mouth, clearly about to stop him, but he cuts her off. He has to say this to someone, and out of everyone he would say he trusts, none of them even come close to reaching Narvi.

“They’re dead. The house is as good as. And no one wants to remember them. Or- no one wants to remember them as anything but monsters. And that’s… almost the same thing? It’s not right. They were, absolutely, towards the end. Monsters, I mean. But they were also- no- and they were also my family. I-” His mouth snaps shut when he pauses. He can’t figure out how to say what he means. He changes tracks. “Did you know I share my grandfather’s name?” He asks, and, Valar bless her, Narvi doesn’t even blink at the sudden change in topics.

“I did not. Although with the amount of names you elves seem to accumulate it doesn’t surprise me.” He quirks his lips at her, not so much a smile as an acknowledgement of her point. It isn’t like she’s wrong.

“Mnhm. And my father’s. Curufinwë Fëanáro, Curufinwë Atarincë, Curufinwë Telperinquar. Curufin Celebrimbor.” The Quenya still rolls easily off his tongue. His skin feels like it doesn’t sit right along his shoulders. “It’s not done, typically. No sense in confusing people when you’ll live forever. But my grandfather never used his father-name. Even great-grandfather barely called him by it. It’s not like I ever asked why, but if I were to guess it would be something about his mother-name being the only thing his mother gave him. He passed the name on to my father because someone should be using it- that’s what father said he said at least. Maybe it was an excuse. Anyway, father didn’t mind his mother-name but certainly didn’t prefer it. I suppose that ‘little father’ does put a certain amount of pressure on a person. And then I was born, and my mother called me silver-fisted, and in that family, with that father, and that name there was practically only one option for what I would be, and it had already happened once so.” He shrugs, short and sharp. “I was Nelya-Curufinwë. And it fit. Fits. A line of smiths greater than any among the Eldar, doomed and Doomed again. Skilled, but not wise, not noble. Father wanted me to carry a piece of my family, you know, and I do. I can’t escape it: a silver star, a thrice-given name- I’m Doomed, Narvi, as Doomed as the rest of them. I can only hope I won’t be as much of a monster, in the end.”

“Kibil-umral.” She snaps, and snaps him out of it. This is why he doesn’t talk about his family, it’s far too easy to spiral. He loosens his hands where they were clenched and runs them through his undoubtedly-ruined hair. He takes a few deep, deliberate breaths.

“Sorry. Got off track.” She glares at him, and he offers a shaky smile in response. They both know that he isn’t going to apologize for what he believes is true- only for saying it. Come daylight, perhaps, he might be able to hope, but no matter how many memories he has of starlight and late nights over fire- from the forge or from a fireplace with a hot drink in his hands and Narvi by his side, the darkness is always when he’s closest to the child in Valinor realizing that the tree-light is dimming and hiding under his bed as Morgoth breaks down the gates into Formenos.

“So. My family. They cared. For better or for worse, they could never stop caring. My father named me Curufinwë so that I would never doubt my place in the family- funny as it seems now.” It’s not funny. It’s bitter at best. “My uncles taught me how to debate and imagine and how to be patient and how to do math and what kind of snakes to avoid and what kind to put in people’s beds. They were monsters, and before that they were people- I wouldn’t say nice people, or kind, but I think that they were good. The people raised me and the monsters drove me away and I hate who they became and I love who they were, and I don’t think I can choose just one to believe in. But I won’t let other people choose for me either. I- I don’t know how to explain it. I suppose that I’m Fëanárian but not Fëanorion. I’m from the house of Fëanáro but not a child of the house of Fëanor. I am not my father’s son, but he is still my father. Even after everything, that’s still what I choose.” He stops, turning away from Narvi and back to the paper. The eight-rayed star stares back insistently, and he comes to a realization.

“And it’s not my grandfather’s star on the doors, not how I’m using it. It’s mine. I’m saying that I remember when there weren’t monsters. I’m saying remember we are people, because the worst part about monsters is that anyone can become one! I’m saying that I know where I came from, and I’ve rejected it and claimed it anew. I’m saying behold- the skill of Finwë yet lives in Middle-Earth, remade again and again because we must be better! We must learn from the past and be ashamed of the terrible and proud of the great and that they aren’t mutually exclusive! And I’m saying that my grandfather has been dead for more than an Age, and my grandfather’s house is more than the scraps left behind from the Doom he wrought, and I am saying ‘look at my hands and see they are clean, look at my eyes and see the light of the trees, and look at my star and know who I am, know what I have overcome!’”

He is shouting, by the end, arms flung wide and panting as he twists to look at Narvi again. She’s grinning widely at his invigorated mood, but her face abruptly falls as his thoughts catch up to him and he deflates.

“But. It might be a bad idea. If we want these doors to be a symbol of unity then there probably shouldn’t be something so divisive on it. I can get rid of it, I didn’t even think when I was putting it on anyways.”

She grabs his hand, stilling it, and presses a quick kiss to his knuckles. He hadn’t even realized it was shaking.

“Keep it. We’re making a statement anyways, might as well make another.”

“Ha!” Celebrimbor’s laugh is quick and sharp. “Might as well indeed.” She squeezes his hand tighter, then loosens her grip, grounding him. He catches on right away and times his breathing with the pressure. She stops when his chest doesn’t feel quite so clammy, and his heart not so fast, but she doesn’t let go. He laughs again out of relief, genuinely this time, and wipes at his eyes with his free hand. He wasn’t crying, exactly, but they are damp.

“Thank you,” He says, and his voice is raspy, “I needed that.” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“I can see that.” She says, dry as a desert but still sympathetic, glancing from where he’s slumped down on his seat to their clasped hands. His is still trembling, but not so much from emotion as from a growing need for water, food, sleep, and a good wash, though not necessarily in that order.

“Right, we’re calling it a night. Water, and then sleep. I’ll stay with you tonight.” Narvi declares, hopping off her stool and tugging him up after. Aulë bless her for not waiting for him to ask.

---

That night isn’t special. It’s nothing they haven’t done before, it doesn’t herald any new changes in the pair’s dynamic, it doesn’t solve Celebrimbor’s many, many issues with the family of his blood. It isn’t even the night that he decides, once and for all, that he’s keeping the curséd star on the doors- yes, actually for real this time Narvi, he’s made up his mind- but the design is done now- or nearly, rather- and he thinks on it with a twisted kind of fondness nonetheless.

“Should we add a password, do you think?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yes. Might as well show off a little. Spoken?”

“Spoken. Can’t be Khuzdul, obviously.”

“Not Westron, not enough of our people speak it. Since we’re making a statement- Quenya?” She’s only bringing it up to get all of their options out of the way. He does the same thing- they work best when they don’t think about their ideas before sharing them and letting the other criticize as they will, bouncing it back and forth like the rebound of a pickaxe. He can feel the flow picking up when he responds:

“First, same problem as Westron. Second, one controversial bait for questioning my loyalties is quite enough for me. That leaves Þindarin.”

“Not a phrase, there’s too much opportunity for mispronunciation.”

“For you, maybe.”

“Says the elf who still lisps his silmës half the time!”

“This is slander. Fine, not a phrase. It shouldn’t be too hard to guess, I suppose, since the doors will be open most of the time anyway.”

“Mahal willing. But it can’t be too easy, that’s just extending the Enemy an open invitation. We could turn it into a riddle?” They both pause. Celebrimbor gets an idea, and knows that Narvi sees it by the way her eyebrows raise and she settles her weight on her elbows, ready to lean in to either see what he’s thinking or slap him across the face. Both have been necessary in the past.

“So. If we don’t want the enemy to guess it, it shouldn’t be something he knows, right?”

“Oh no. You wouldn’t be saying that unless you had a plan. What is it?”

“Well, I’m not exactly fluent but I do know some Black-Speech-”

“Celebrimbor no. We are not putting Black-Speech on our doors! That defeats the whole purpose!” She yells, staring at him with an all-too-familiar combination of judgement and horror. He feels a little offended, honestly. He’s not that stupid.

“No no no. That’s not what I’m saying. It doesn’t have any- there’s no sound for- yanta, what’s yan- ai! There’s no sound for ai. And-”

“You realize you just sound like you’re exclaiming.”

“Well maybe I am. You know what I mean!” He stands and starts to pace in tight loops. “Anyway, since he’s the Enemy he also doesn’t know things like love, and affection, and chocolate, and-”

“Friendship!”

“Exactly! So I suppose the riddle-”

“Speak friend and enter. Ha! It’s perfect, practically writes itself. So the password is-

“Mellon. I like it. It’s not hard to say either. Except in Black Speech, which is the point.”

“Not even with your atrocious accent.” She grins unrepentantly at him until he rolls his eyes and smiles back. They both know his accent isn’t that bad most of the time, his Fëanárian pronunciation only coming out in Quenya or when he’s particularly relaxed or upset, usually around her. But that doesn’t make for as good of a joke.

“Now, I think we ought to get back to the fact that you know that the Enemy doesn’t know about chocolate.”

“I never said anything about him not knowing about chocolate. He just doesn’t know what it’s like. And, well. Admittedly that’s more of an assumption I made to make a point. But a good one, I think!”

“Care to elaborate?’ Her eyebrows raise, but she’s still smirking at him.

“I told you about the Lúthien incident, yes? Well ignore all of it except for Þauron, lord of werewolves, turning into one. A werewolf, that is.” He sits as she visibly tries to follow his thought process and uncharacteristically fails.

“Ok, I’ll bite-”

“Like a werewolf. Or in this case more like Cousin Finr-”

“Shush with you and your horrible jokes! Explain!”

“Dogs can’t have chocolate. I’m reasonably certain that wolves, being their ancestors, can’t either. Werewolves, more-or-less being evil wolves- both relevant here- are probably doubly unable to have it.” He gives her a mock bow from his stool, fully aware and uncaring of his lack of reason. That isn’t the point of this. Phase one of the West-Gate is nearly done, and they’re both giddy with the rush of success that will inevitably succumb to the frustration of the creative process shortly once more. They’ve got the time.

“But Sauron isn’t one? Although I suppose that’s where his turning into one comes into play. It’s not a hypothesis entirely without merit.” She mutters to herself, clearly joking by taking his “theory” seriously.

“Precisely. And he is their lord, as well. It only makes sense. He wouldn’t give them the ability to enjoy something he himself is incapable of!”

“Well that can be the backup password, then. But ‘Mellon’ is better.” She declares, and he agrees. Frankly, he thinks, nothing compares.

#tolkien #silmarillion #tolkiengenweek #celebrimbor #narvi #narvi + celebrimbor #queerplatonic narvi and celebrimbor #doors of durin #my writing #silm fic

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fandom-space-princess · 3 years

Text

The Game of Us

Rating: T (gen, no warnings)

Chapter 5: Michael

“Well, First of Heaven?” Death raises his eyebrows, mouth twisting into a subtle smile. “Still your Father’s creature?”

Read below the cut, or on AO3

************************************

Death awaits him at the surface.

“It seems my confidence in your powers of persuasion was justified.” From his perch on the wall beyond the entrance to the temple, the Horseman appraises Michael as he ascends the stairs and regains level ground. “The lightbearer has a long path ahead of him still, if he’s to find what he seeks. But that’s his business.”

He stands, leaning his weight atop a cane tipped with tarnished silver. Michael can see him clearly, now, the form he has taken solid and familiar as a well-worn glove. Tall and gaunt, attired chin to heel in the sable vestments of an undertaker. He beckons, and Michael falls into step at his side.

“And, perhaps, yours as well,” he amends. “What will you do, viceroy, with no title and no sovereign to serve? I suspect you will find the capacity in which Heaven requires you quite unlike what you have come to expect.” Michael is silent, but his companion doesn’t appear to expect an answer in any case.

As suddenly as it had begun, their path ends. They find themselves in the center of a garden.

The flora here is the same rich black as every other feature of this landscape, and yet as Michael studies it, it seems to hold more. Colors that creep into the ultraviolet, hues without names in any human tongue. The surroundings no longer reflect light back to him, he realizes. His form has shifted again; he no longer wears his brother’s face.

He wonders what he looks like now.

As if sensing his thoughts (and perhaps he can, Michael muses), Death inclines his head and smiles. “It is time. You have a decision to make. And I believe you’ll find that you know how to make it.”

In the center of the garden two springs of water await. A dais has been built up around them, and Michael steps up onto the platform to peer down into the depths.

To his left, murky water swirls ponderous and thick. The surface swallows greedily such light as there is, and beyond a muddy outline he casts no reflection in it. Were I to touch it, he thinks, would it pull me in too?

“Ameles potamos,” the quiet voice from behind him supplies. A steady hand rests on his shoulder. “Lethe. The wellspring of unmindfulness, river of forgetting. That is an option, lad, should you truly wish it. You may leave the sting of betrayal behind you, the bloodshed you’ve seen. Go on as you always have. However...” His posture shifts minutely, frame adjusting to face the pool’s twin. “... there’s always the alternative.”

Michael twists to face the other pool.

Oh. I remember.

Lucifer’s form, his first form, had been the embodiment of dawn, diamond-bright and burning. Plants bloomed as he passed, when the Earth was new; his brother had shone as brilliantly as the sun. But that was Lucifer’s identity. Examining his reflection now, relief and a kind of unfamiliar contentment take root and blossom in Michael’s grace.

Here at the end of the path, he no longer needs to define himself by Lucifer, or by Chuck, or even by Adam.

Michael’s reflection stares back at him out of the only face that has ever been his, and his alone. Eyes the deep honey-gold of sunlight in amber. Forehead high, cheekbones broad and fine. A face made for both the solemnity of duty, and the easy laughter of quiet joy. His own first shape: the form he had taken to walk with Lucifer among the first humans, dusk to his brother’s dawn. Adam and Eve reaching out to him, curious, taking his own strong brown hands in theirs, so much closer to them in likeness—if not in spirit—than his shining twin.

A gleam of grey catches his eye, and he sighs in recognition. There you are.

Nestled into his hair is a circlet of steel, polished and flashing like a beacon in the pool. He reaches up to touch it, running the tips of his fingers over it delicately.

“Your other choice,” Death interjects, shaking him loose from his ruminations. “The river of memory, sacred Mnemosyne. Keep your pain, and what it has taught you. Remember, hurt, learn. And become someone new.”

Michael glances back, once, at the hypnotic roil of Lethe. He closes his eyes. Reaches into that clawing, bleeding place inside himself that he knows will never truly be unbroken. His Father, his family, the Cage; abandonment, absolution, fear and destitution and reclamation and loss. All of this tangles inside his grace, a shard-edged ache. He reaches for it, and he grasps it as tightly as he can. Hefts the weight of it. Allows himself to feel it all.

Then he exhales. Opens his eyes.

“Well, First of Heaven?” Death raises his eyebrows, mouth twisting into a subtle smile. “Still your Father’s creature?”

The archangel Michael smiles back. Raises his hands to his head, pulls the crown he wears free of twining umber curls. Sets it at his feet. It glimmers for a moment, steely against the blackness, then dissolves away into nothing.

“No,” he says softly, kneeling at the edge of the sparkling clear waters of memory. “I don’t think I am.”

“What, then?”

He dips one hand into the water, and brings it to his face.

“I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

************************************

Epilogue:

Saturday marks the fourth day in a row of wind and frigid rain. Sodden earth clings to Adam’s feet, trails in muddy footprints past the entryway to his apartment. He shakes off his boots beside the front door. Flicks away the crinkling orange leaves that stick to the hem of his pants. The trees had turned early this year, a riot of red and ochre like a sunrise outside the exterior door to his apartment complex each morning for weeks now. But the last of the leaves are rapidly coming down under the weight of the constant drizzle, and he brushes them away with fingers numb at the tips.

He hasn’t been properly warm in days. Or—if he’s being honest with himself—since last November.

Shrugging off his jacket over the back of a chair, he heads for the bathroom.

He’s in the midst of rinsing his hair, idling in the steam in an attempt to will warmth and feeling back into his hands, when the building shudders around him.

An earthquake? In Minnesota?

He lurches forward, flails at the handle to turn the water off. The shaking builds rapidly, and he drops to the ground and braces himself against the wall. Then there is a resounding crack like breaking glass, loud enough that he slaps his hands over his ears, wincing. Whatever it is seems to have been the apex of the disturbance. The shaking abruptly ceases, and in the quiet that follows he can hear dogs barking and car alarms blaring up and down the length of the block.

He winds a towel around his waist, and opens the door to the bathroom. Strides out into his living room, intending to investigate the source of the disturbance, and pulls up short. Sprawled out across his floor is a man Adam has never seen before.

The stranger raises his head, and meets his eyes.

“Adam,” he rasps. His eyelids flutter. Adam takes one halting step toward him, two—

—then Michael slumps back, unconscious, and Adam is alone with his questions.

************************************

(Chapter notes:

If you're still here, I love you. Thank you for reading. <3

This fic was created and published as part of tumblr's SPN Archangel Week 2021 event. You have no idea how happy it makes me that, even now, there are so many people who care as much about these characters and their stories as I do. Special thanks to the people in the Archangels discord server, who are uniformly lovely, and inspire me every day.

As the epilogue indicates, there is at least one sequel to this story (Michael and Adam, my beloveds). I was hoping to have that ready for this week as well, but life happened. I'm hoping to get to it next week, so check back in a bit for that.)

#and thus concludes our journey :)#spnarchangelweek #day 4 michael #michael spn #gabriel spn #raphael spn #lucifer spn #death spn #my fanfic #spn #supernatural

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finnified · 3 years

Text

a list of things i absolutely love about / kind of analysis on hog hunt, compiled as i watch it for the second time:

(under the cut cos this got really long)

right near the beginning when they’re raising the anvil, she does this really cool transition from the light on the anvil to the light on the curtain in tubbo’s first few frames. it’s incredibly smooth and it works rlly well. the pattern is also continued to the shine on tubbo’s axe when he twists it to see his face in it which is also rlly neat.

i’ll probably point this out several times, but the use of perspective in this animatic is amazing. we first see it from phil standing on his balcony looking at the raised anvil, but the use of perspective is absolutely INCREDIBLE all throughout this animatic.

we see it right after this, actually, with the trees and the crow flying over it. not only is the perspective so cool here, but the motion with the feathers is also amazing.

i also love how whenever ghostbur shows up, the screen gets a little glitchy. i’m not sure what i like about it but it’s just kinda fitting with his static-y eyes and such.

PHILS CROWS!!

THE TRANSITION SCENE FROM TUBBO WALKING DOWN THE HALL OF THE WHITE HOUSE TO HIM PULLING OUT THE AXE AND SUDDENLY THE BUTCHER ARMY IS ALL THERE. that was so absolutely satisfying, with the sound effect of quackity’s torch and all. also ranboo is there which is <3

the transitions in this animatic really might be my favorite part. we get the bit with techno suiting up with his cape and his crown and then the really cool fog that allows him to appear outside with the butcher army, and we can see someone level their axe in front of them and BOOM techno appears out of the smoke, pulling the axe back and swinging. it’s AMAZING.

the swinging motion from that last scene allows a little bit of a still waving transition into the butcher army room, which is STUNNING by the way (and also ranboo) which then flawlessly pulls into phil and then the scene in phil’s house with the shattered glass visual and audio combination it’s AMAZING. the frame with phil’s chest in white on the black background with the only color being ghostbur’s blue is also really neat here as well.

i absolutely ADORE the frames where tubbo finds the compass, because you can hear and see the smirk in his voice and i love how the compass drops down on the little string and it’s just. so poggers. love that. the part directly after that where it zooms in on phil and you get the opportunity to see the weight of the situation from his perspective is AMAZING.

and the collection of frames after that that go in the flashes of light? quackity with his back to the screen, techno reading the letter (TECHNOGLASSES POG) phil’s compass slowly pointing forward to the viewer? the flash of phil standing on his balcony, and then the butcher army which gets cut off of view by one of phil’s crows, with the feathers in the background that morph into his wings? this sequence is so powerful, for a reason i can’t quite place, but i absolutely adore it.

THEN WE GET THAT PHIL SCENE THAT EVERYONE’S FAWNING OVER, AND RIGHTFULLY SO. the camera slowly pans down to phil’s face, and then his hat tips forward so the shadow can grow on his face, and then we get that really cool glitch effect where he turns all black with the white eyes and such. it’s so cool.

then we get the ‘i choose blood’ scene, which in all honesty i had to replay several times to properly get my thoughts down on. this whole bit is so incredibly smooth and flows so well, with techno’s cape and the butcher army readying their axes and then techno pulling the potions from seemingly nowhere and then the colored smoke again from earlier- which i quite literally can’t get enough of, sad-ist do your shoes need shinin ma’am, and then the whole sequence where tubbo is pinned by techno and screaming at quackity to do something, which transitions FLAWLESSLY into big q and carl. you can see techno’s shock even before he realizes quackity actually has carl, and i applaud sad-ist for being able to convey that much emotion even without techno’s eyes.

the spinning from the camera being right next to techno to right behind quackity is also amazing. i think the color of the background shifts slightly? which i think might represent something, but it sort of just stood out to me in the moment. the perspective when quack is talking and holding carl’s reigns is amazing, because it’s slightly below quack’s eye level, which gives us the impression of looking up at him, and also really allows us to see how much danger carl is actually in.

once again i applaud sad-ist for her ability to convey so much emotion in techno even with half of his face covered. his resignation of his own safety for carl’s is aggressively clear as he drops the cape and the crown away.

and then we get the phil sneaking out sequence, which i had to slow down to properly appreciate, but it’s REALLY cool. the blue handprint on the tree? the entire skull motif? (which my friend mysso pointed out) it ties back into The phil scene from this animatic earlier and i really love it.

then we have literally what might be my favorite scene in this animatic!! which is stupid maybe because it’s one of the less important scenes, but i love it nonetheless. it’s the scene where they’re walking techno into lmanburg and phil is on his balcony and says “you actually got him” which transitions into tubbo reminding him that he’s on house arrest and then techno running forward with the chains (which have their own noise, which i think is such a poggers detail) and demanding to know what they did to phil. i love absolutely everything about this scene, from (once again) the extreme amount of expression that techno has even with the mask to the fact that it takes both quackity and fundy to restrain him once he’s pissed off to once again the absolutely FLAWLESS motion in that bit. you can see the struggle happening perfectly with techno’s flailing and quackity reaching forward to grab his arm and all, and i love it.

the little short scene we get with techno shifting slightly side to side to imply walking slowly in time with the music is also really cool. detail in sad-ist’s animatics my beloved.

THEN WE HAVE THE PUNZ SCENE!!! i absolutely love this one because of the use of perspective as well. it flips from tubbo doing his speech to the rooftop with punz and dream, and dream slowly raises his hand and punz flips the ender pearl and then APPEARS on the ground, sheds the cape in a single movement (might honestly be my favorite singular motion in this animatic) tosses the potions, we see the beloved colored smoke again, and when it clears punz and ranboo are going at it. you get the amazing panic in tubbo’s voice with him screaming at big q to pull the lever, and techno’s iconic little ‘heh??’ and then-

anvil drops. here comes the best scene in this animatic.

we get a few seconds of techno staring up at the anvil in shock, holding the totem, and it’s super cool actually because at the very end of that you see the bottom of the anvil come into super sharp detail in the reflection of techno’s eye. it flashes to ghostbur on the outside, watching the anvil fall, and when the sound of impact comes the totem explodes. that frame on its own is amazing and i might make that my background just because of how dynamic it is, with the light exploding and everything, and THEN. THEN WE GET TECHNO’S ABSOLUTELY STUNNING REANIMATION SEQUENCE with the flesh wrapping back around him, being stitched together it’s the green totem threads, his skull underneath and the blood, it’s amazing. he jumps through the bars of the cage with the chains mostly broken except for one on his hand, and he runs off after dream who has carl. WHILE THIS IS HAPPENING, (and someone on tumblr just pointed it out,) techno is still actually reforming. one of his legs is only fully solid once he’s outside the cage and one of his arms is still reforming when he swings it through the bars- thats why he’s able to get out so easily, and that’s why it’s bleeding in the next few scenes.

dream in this animatic is terrifying, by the way. he’s the most inhuman we’ve ever seen him, with the hood always up and the shadow covering half the mask so there’s no way to see under it. i know a few people on tumblr have pointed out sad-ist’s design progression with dream (from very very human with the mask on the side to the mask on to the mask and the cape) but it’s so wonderful that i felt the need to say it again.

and then dream is gone and quackity is here. time for the most banger fight scene to ever be animated in the history of animated fight scenes!

the motion in this fight scene is amazing. techno never stops moving. he’s darting under quackity’s legs, twirling the pickaxe (he’s fighting with a pickaxe!) JUMPING OVER QUACKITY’S HEAD AND YANKING HIS AXE OUT FROM HIS GRASP WHICH IS HONESTLY THE COOLES THING, and that motion continues smoothly when you see the axe get imbedded in the wall, and then you get the ‘put it through your teeth’ which is AMAZING.

and then it slowly fades back to techno’s cabin, and then TOMMY!! he looks so soft in these few seconds when he’s here, and i love that for him, mostly because it shows how much he’s changed. the sound effects when the wither wall is dropping are flawless as well, and i know everyone is saying this as well but i literally cannot, CANNOT get over how techno does the spreading-his-arms-curling-his-fists thing in front of the wither vault like he did in the dawn of the sixteenth animatic in the revolutionary’s vault. we get those two frames- one with techno suddenly splashed in blood, and then the one where that blood turns green and we’re left with only the blood, techno’s eyes and tusks, and the very barest outline of the wither vault, all in the same bright green. techno’s laughter also draws out even through the closing scene, which is another nice touch.

overall? absolutely amazing animatic, so many things to point out and pick apart, and i am definitely going to watch it like eight hundred more times.

#charm.txt #hog hunt #technoblade #pov you are charm and your hog hunt commentary hit 1.8k words #i definitely don’t have a problem!#kudos to everyone who’s been posting about hog hunt btw bc ive been picking up a lot of little things to add to this from my dash #anyways #back to rewatching hog hunt for the fourth time #pleas give me clout for this by the way i actually worked on this a bit bahaha

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sandpumpkin · 3 years

Text

Dear to the Heart

This was a secret santa gift for the wonderful @elliemehl and she said I could post it. So! Please enjoy some soft mochi.

Warning: mild angst.

Fluff.

under the cut because it’s a litte long.

Being able to peek into the future was a gift most people would kill for, and it was a skill Katakuri had honed for many years; yet now he was almost reluctant to use it. Every dawn he woke feeling a piece of him was missing, every day he cursed those painful words. And every night, he thought of how he missed her curled up in his arms.

But it was the right thing to do.

-3 years earlier-

“What do you mean?” she asked, tears already threatening to spill from her eyes as she looked up at him. Katakuri reached with his giant hand to carefully wipe the tears away.

“You have to leave.” he replied sternly, “for your own safety.” He moved away from her to sit behind his desk, knowing that if he stayed close he would want to hold her and never let go. “You have yet to pay your soul tax – you cannot stay. I have already prepared a ship and residence for you out of Mama’s territory.” It was a battle to remain impervious to her tears.

“I don’t- I don’t want to go.” Her voice cracked as she struggled to string a sentence together.

“You will leave,” he said with his usual cold tone and not the softer tone he used with her, “Go now while Mama is too busy planning another wedding to notice a ship slip out of the area.”

Clutching her shirt tightly, she swallowed back more tears and smiled at him. It pained him so much to see how her smile quivered every second it was upon her beautiful face. “Goodbye Katakuri...I love you..” she sniffled and hurried out of his office, breaking into sobs.

Katakuri balled his hands into tight fists and tried to calm his own frantic emotions.

As do I. One day when it is safer I will come for you.

-Present Day-

Another day had rolled by and he found himself in the Seducing Woods, home to his sister Brulee. He used to walk here with his beloved, she loved this eerily spooky forest and Brulee had been overjoyed to know her dear brother had finally found someone special; she always made sure the forest homies kept their eyes closed when Katakuri came here, giving him some privacy from prying eyes. “Kata! My sweetest mochi!” He could almost hear her sweet voice in his ears, almost feel her beside him holding his large hand in her far smaller one.

He sat down by the lake hidden away by the trees in the centre of the forest and reached into his waistcoat pocket to pull out a delicate silver locket which he carefully opened. His bright pink eyes softened as they gazed upon her sweet face; running a thumb over the portrait he wanted nothing more than to have her here in his arms.

So many times he was tempted to use his future sight to see what her future held but he was scared. What if her future wasn’t with him? What if she had found another?

But the gifts he had sent her had been delivered – unless she was selling them? So many unanswered questions that stabbed at his heart like knives.

He remembered their first kiss in this very forest on a full moon when she tumbled into the river.

Katakuri had been so focused on making sure no one was around that he had failed to even consider that she might slip by accident. She slipped and Katakuri had moved to grab her but instead her hand had clutched at his thick scarf pulling it clean over his head and into the cold lake. He remembered the shock as he stood with his hand still outstretched like a stunned deer. It had all happened so fast and now she would surface and see his hideous face. It took a lot to make Katakuri jump but when she surfaced taking a gasp of air, he felt his body jolt slightly, and he watched her as she shook the water from her hair.

“I am so sorry, Kata..kuri..” She looked up at him, holding his scarf which had probably soaked up plenty of water. She was staring and Katakuri moved to cover his face, backing away from the water's edge and turning around. “Katakuri, wait!” she called frantically, and he heard the sound of his scarf slopping onto the ground as she clambered out of the water.

A gentle hand came to rest on his forearm. “Katakuri?” She hesitated. “I know you’ve always hidden your face and I understand if you do not wish to show me but I want you to know that I love you. I love every aspect of you. Everything about you fills my heart – you’re so strong and unyielding, and so gentle and caring, so loyal and understanding of others with or without your future sight. Please know that there is nothing in this world that would change how I feel about you. I shall say it over and over - I love you, Charlotte Katakuri, and always will.”

Swallowing his uncertainty he turned back to her, a gloved hand still covering his face as he knelt down to breach their difference in height No battle he had fought could compare to the anxiety thudding in his chest. What if her words were hollow and would shatter the moment she glimpsed at his face properly?

Gingerly she touched his hand, gazing into his eyes to seek his permission. At a slight nod of his head she guided his arm to his side, leaving him defenseless to her judgement.

He turned his eyes away, unable to bear the sight of the disgust that probably lingered in her eyes, but warm hands came to cup his face as though he were made out of the most delicate of meringues. Her soft fingers traced his facial features: the long scar that spread from his lips and his huge teeth. “How handsome,” she said, after what felt like an eternity of silence. He finally looked back at her and was shocked: she was smiling at him so gently, not a trace of fear in her beautiful eyes. Her fingers ran through his short spiky hair and guided his head to her chest so she could plant a kiss into his hair “I am glad you showed me your face and I stand true by my words. I love you.”

Katakuri closed his eyes in relief. His whole body eased into hers, savouring this foreign gentle touch, and he raised his hands to wrap around her body, holding her close. He might be one of the sweet commanders and most feared people on Totto Island but right now he felt like a normal man being loved by his sweetheart.

“Katakuri?” she asked hesitantly, “could we...could we kiss? Or maybe..is it too soon?” she stammered out as though she had just proposed the most illicit action ever. Katakuri peered up from her chest to see her cheeks tinted red. The butterflies swirling around his stomach made him feel like a young man again, when he had missed out on these feelings. People were so scared of him that none dared approach him and now here he was pondering his first kiss with someone he loved dearly. He nodded and the look of excitement mixed with nervousness in her eyes.

Katakuri allowed her to take the lead - he was no expert at romance, all this completely new to him. Cradling his face still, she closed the gap between them to plant little kisses all over his face before placing the softest kiss on his lips. The moon had been shining down upon them like the lovers in a melodramatic play: it was a moment he could never forget.

Katakuri looked up at the sky where another full moon cast down its cold rays upon him. Another act without its leading lady. How many years do I have left on this earth?. He was in his forties now and still he felt incomplete. How many years had he wasted without her by his side? Despite his status and branding as a pirate all he wanted was to live out his days with her, perhaps have a family of his own, or maybe just pets, whatever she wanted as long as she was by his side. Snapping the lid closed with a quiet click, he pocketed the locket and finally headed home. Though is it really a home without her?

One of the servants greeted him urgently as he entered his home. “Sir, you have a visitor.” Tensing as Katakuri glanced down at him sternly.

“This late?” he questioned flatly, he was tired and had no intention of pandering to some uncalled for guest. “Send them away.” He headed toward the living room only to have the servant give chase trying to keep up with Katakuri’s much longer stride.

“Sir. They came earlier and insisted they wait for you.” Katakuri stopped in his tracks and grumbled, running a hand over his short spiky hair, “They have a seal of the Charlotte family. I thought you would be angry if I sent them away-” Sighing in defeat, Katakuri turned on his heels marching towards the far end of the hallway, his spurs clinking on the well polished marble floor.

As he headed through the hall his chest tightened that the sight of a familiar form sitting in the grand main hall. No. It can’t be ….

He must remain resolute in his decision and send her away again. With long strides he walked past her, not even sparing her a glance.

“Will you not even look at me?” she asked. He stole a quick glimpse over his shoulder; she was standing, clutching her coat nervously the same way as the day she left, though now her eyes watched him sternly.

“We will talk in my office,” he said coolly and marched off to his office, her soft footsteps following behind. He took his spot behind his desk, leaning back in his large chair to maintain his aloof persona. Folding his arms around his wide tattooed chest, “Why-” he began.

“I came back for you,” she interrupted determinedly, “I need to be beside you, Katakuri. I’m ready to face Big Mom with you. I want to spend the rest of my days with you.” She studied him carefully, making sure her eyes never left his.

“I assumed you have moved on.” he admitted quietly. Looking away shamefully. Why would she want to come back?

“You thought I had found someone else?” she asked in surprise.

“Why did you come back.” His question was cold and abrupt but after how he sent her away, he needed to know.

“Brulee explained everything to me. I know why you sent me away.” She explained, smiled softly, walking around the desk to stand beside him and reached for his scarf. He tensed but then closed his eyes, allowing her to pull the heavy fur scarf over his head. Her soft hands grazed his face, turning it towards her “How I have missed your handsome face.” she cooed, leaning in to gently pepper his face in light airy kisses “How could I have loved anyone else knowing that my sweet donut was here all alone?”

Closing his eyes, Katakuri allowed her to continue to shower him in kisses. This..this is just like that night. A smile tugged at his lips and carefully he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him. How he had missed her touch, her scent, her warmth.

“Forgive me,” he mumbled into her chest “I sent you away thinking it was for the best and never thought about how you would feel. I wanted to keep you safe from all this.” he felt her face nuzzle his hair gently which spurred him to carry on talking “Thank you..Thank you for coming back to me. Not a day passed where you weren’t at the forefront of my mind.”

“I missed you Katakuri.” she said, trailing her fingers in little circles over the back of his neck.

“We’ll conquer this future together,” he said, his voice barely audible. He looked up at her and saw that joyous sparkle of happiness in her eyes.

“Forever and always, my sweet,” and she sealed her words with a tender kiss to his lips.

It was as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders: Katakuri felt whole again. Complete. Nothing would ever separate them again, not even the will of his own mother.

#pumpkin writes #Gifts for Friends #Charlotte Katakuri #katakuri x reader #one piece #fluff #mild angst #first kisses #SOFT MOCHI MAN

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cashmeremars · 3 years

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 || 𝐥.𝐣𝐧

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeno x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: jeno has always been your best friend, but he’s been feeling certain feelings and doesn’t know what to do about it. he prepares a speech to present on a winter day. will you walk with him on his love line?

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, non-idol!au, best friends to lovers

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4k+

𝐚/𝐧: wrote this when i was 16 and it still makes my heart soft. this is also written in third person because it navigates how jeno feels about you rather than how you feel about him. i love jeno :(

“i want to walk with you on our love line”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The colour of love was delicate. The hushed pink tones emphasizing the softest features of one’s muse, shining a soft glow on the gaze of the eyes of one’s beloved. The colour of love was a warm glow on the flushed skin of an innocent blush. Although love accompanied the softest touches and warmest thoughts, the colour of love was dark. It sneaks up on you in your most vulnerable moments, taunting you, daring you to acknowledge it. The blush once seen as innocent becomes a nuisance as it accompanies a trembling voice and shaky hands. Love was almost too visible. It jumps out of one’s heart into the open to tease. Love was visible, but never to the one in which the love was directed to.

Nevertheless, he still tried. He tried to bury it in the darkest depths of his rose-coloured heart. He tried to hide the soft pink that glazed his cheeks whenever she smiled at him. He tried to hide the way his breath faltered whenever she looked up at him and he saw swirls of the milky way in her eyes. He tried to hide it all. Despite all of the mush that squirmed around in his subconscious, he didn’t know if what he was feeling really was love. The day Jeno had realized he was in love was the day that his heart was coloured with a blooming red.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The pair had been out exploring the city when they spotted a duck pond on their way through a park. The girl cooed as she approached the pond, and Jeno quickly followed. Once they reached the pond the girl pulled a plastic bag from her backpack.

“What is that?” Jeno asked as he watched the girl in curiosity

“Bird seed” she replied nonchalantly as she shook it before opening it up

“Bird seed?” Jeno repeated

“Yeah” She smiled to herself as she reached into the bag and grabbed a handful of the bird seed.

“Do you always carry that around with you?” Jeno asked with a teasing laugh

“Of course. You never know who might need it” She smirked as she reached her hand out towards the ducks. A baby duck had approached the girl cautiously before it began eating from her hand. Jeno smiled as he watched her. She smiled brightly under the sun as the duck continued to eat her from her hand, quietly quacking when it had looked at her.

“Don’t ducks like bread?” Jeno asked as he kneeled down beside her

“Jeno, bread can really damage the health of ducks, you know?” she spoke as a piece of hair flew into her eye, causing her to squint up at him.

“Oh. Didn’t know, but thanks for telling me” Jeno laughed as he pushed some of his own hair out of his eyes.

The whistling wind and the running they had done had pushed their hair around immensely. Jeno averted his gaze to her reflection in the water; distorted, but beautiful. Her smile was still twinkling in the barely blue water. He found himself smiling to himself as she continued to feed the ducks. Then she turned her head to Jeno and laughed as the duck quacked, and when his eyes met hers, he felt as though his heart had spiralled onto the brink of uncharted territory. That’s when he knew. As fast as the clouds rolling in before a storm, he started to fall for the girl. He had been friends with her for years, but he found himself more drawn to her now than ever before. It was almost like everyday she revealed another part of her gracious heart, making him fall even harder. He found himself yearning to talk to her when they had spent days apart.

He tried to play it cool at first. He made sure that she never suspected a thing when he was around her. He wanted to keep his heart safe for as long as he could. At least until he was ready; and now, he was ready.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Jeno continued pacing back and forth in his room as the clock read 2:45 am. The only light was from his softly lit lamp glowing on his nightstand. Jeno yawned for the third time that hour as he rubbed his eyes. He’d been awake for hours trying to come up with a speech that would capture all of his emotions the way he wanted them to. He’d never been nervous for anything as he was for this. She was his first love, and he wanted everything to be special for her.

The ping of Jeno’s phone had ripped his attention away from his dilemma, thrusting him back into reality. Jeno dragged his feet towards his nightstand and picked up his phone, lowering the brightness before checking the notification. Jeno’s heart pounded as his brain processed the current situation. It was her.

Hey, we’re still hanging out tomorrow right?

The text message read. It was a simple question, but Jeno being himself had begun to overthink. Why did she ask in the first place? Did something happen? Does she hate him now? Was there a miscommunication? Jeno’s fingers ghosted over his phone’s keyboard as he tried to think of a reply. His fingers stopped when he saw the three dots indicating ‘typing’ pop up.

Just wondering. Nothing’s wrong

It’s almost as if she read his mind. Jeno laughed quietly to himself before typing a simple “yeah” as a reply. He saw the three dots pop up again before a message appeared

Why are you even up? It’s almost 3 am

The message read. Jeno’s heart skipped a beat as his brain once again went into overdrive. How was he supposed to explain to his best friend that he was thinking of ways to confess his love for her? He typed up a quick ‘No particular reason. I was heading to bed anyways’ as he let out a deep sigh. He hoped the reply wasn’t too out of character, or at least not enough for her to question it. As he was lost in thought once again, he hadn’t realized that another message had popped up until he got under his covers.

Okay, well get a good night’s sleep. I already worry about you enough and I’d rather not have you fall asleep on my shoulder. Sometimes you drool :/

Jeno smiled to himself as he read the message. ‘I promise not to drool on you, but I will admit that I love sleeping on your shoulder’ Jeno replied. Another message popped up and Jeno snickered quietly

You look cute when you sleep on my shoulder but your head is also heavier than it should be. Now go to sleep so I don’t have to worry any longer. Goodnight <3

Jeno sent a simple ‘goodnight’ before locking his phone and laying his head down on his pillow. A smile graced his face as he recalled her message. He called her cute. Jeno’s heart jumped at the thought of being called cute by his best friend, and the idea of her worrying about him was touching. Jeno’s mind bounced back and forth as he continued to think about the girl. Words plagued his thoughts, waiting for the day he could mutter them to the girl. As he continued trying to form his speech, he whispered quietly to himself,

“I try to act cool, but I can’t hide my heart. I think I’m in love with you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

As the days started to pass, Jeno found himself thinking about the girl even more than he previously had. The fact that she could possibly be his girlfriend had excited him to no end. It was what he dreamed about. Jeno thought about the way her nose wrinkled whenever she laughed, or the way her smile always reached her eyes, or the way her hands always found a place on his arm whenever she giggled. Her presence was one as cozy as warm vanilla, and he wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in it. His heart bloomed with rose-coloured feelings of fondness. If this was love, he never wanted to go a day without it.

Jeno grabbed his jacket before zipping it up and picking up his backpack. He looked at himself once more in the mirror before pulling out his phone.

‘Leaving the house. See you soon :)’

Jeno sent the message before shoving his phone in his pocket and opening the front door. The crisp autumn air danced its way into Jeno’s lungs as he inhaled. Jeno sighed before putting on his hoodie and walking out of the house, locking the door behind him. Jeno could see his own breath as he made his way towards the bus stop. As he walked on the sidewalk, under the autumn trees, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. After today, love would colour him. Jeno continued to smile to himself as he approached the bus shelter. Jeno sighed again and watched as a puff of cold air floated in front of his face. The bus wouldn’t arrive for another 5 minutes. Jeno peered out into the neighbourhood as he heard the sound of laughter from afar. It was one that resembled the laugh of the girl. Jeno smiled to himself as he remembered the last time they were together.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Graveyards are always so crowded” Jeno spoke quietly. He glanced at the girl and smiled expectantly. They were currently sitting on the floor of her bedroom, nearly on top of each other as they tried to find ways to diminish their boredom.

“What?” The girl asked in confusion as she stared up at Jeno. Her fingers were currently entwined with his as she mindlessly played with them. Jeno was trying his best to act like he didn’t notice, although he had noticed, and the slight blush blooming on his cheeks was a giveaway.

“People must be dying to get in there” Jeno smirked. There was a beat of silence before the pair burst into laughter. She leaned on him as she tried to catch her breath

“Jeno, shut up” She spoke as she hit Jeno’s shoulder. Jeno held his arm in mock pain before he laughed again.

“You know people always talk about picking their noses, but I feel like I was just born with mine” Jeno laughed again.

“Ew, Jeno. That was really lame” The girl stifled a laugh as she rolled her eyes. Jeno’s face had gone red as he continued laughing.

“It wasn’t lame, it was hilarious. You just have a lame sense of humour.” Jeno defended himself as he leaned his head against the wall

“It wasn’t funny. You’re just boring” The girl spoke as she rested her head on the wall beside Jeno, placing her hands in his once again. It was simply platonic, but Jeno had always wished that it had meant more

“Sorry not all of us were born with Haechan’s humour” Jeno tilted his head to meet her eyes

“Maybe I don’t want you to be like Haechan” She smiled as she turned to face Jeno

“Really?” Jeno spoke as he raised his eyebrows, the smile never leaving his eyes

“Yeah.” She replied with a smirk “Besides, we all know Renjun is the funny one anyways” She spoke as she turned away from Jeno with a smirk.

“Shut up” Jeno chuckled as he pushed her shoulder lightly “You love my jokes” he continued before leaning his body on hers and placing his head on her shoulder, looking up at her expectantly.

“Maybe I do” The girl answered as she suppressed a smile

“Oh see! I knew you’d admit it. Now to boost my ego, tell me why you love my amazing humour” Jeno spoke as he lifted his head from the girl’s shoulder

“Love might be an overstatement, Jeno. But your jokes are so bad that it kinda gets amusing.” she sighed as she continued, “Maybe...you might be funny” she spoke with a sigh of defeat

“Funnier than Renjun and Haechan?” Jeno asked

“That’d be a lie. But if it counts for anything, I like you more than I like Renjun and Haechan” The girl said as she turned to look at Jeno once again. Their smiles were subtle as their eyes locked. Their faces were so close now. It would take just two seconds for Jeno to lean in, and kiss her. He could kiss her the way he’s been dreaming of for the past 2 years. But he couldn’t. He never did. So they looked at each other, their noses barely touching before one of them backed away. It had always been like this.

“Good. I like you too.” Jeno whispered as he felt his face growing red. Jeno could never forget the way they looked at each other that day. It was cliché, but he felt like the whole world revolved around them. They were the only thing that mattered in the moment. As his eyes continued to look into hers, he felt his heart flutter. If this was love, he never wanted to live without it. As the days continued to pass, Jeno found himself calling the girl a lot more often just to hear her honey-laced voice; a voice that could soothe him into a deep sleep. He wouldn’t know what he’d do without her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Jeno smiled to himself as he recalled that day. He looked around the bus shelter and focused his eyes on the frost patterns on the window as he tried to think of things to add to his speech. Jeno pulled out his notepad and huffed as he tapped his pen against the paper, trying to think of more sentences to add. Jeno sighed as he heard the bus from down the road. He was on his way to the girls house and he hadn’t felt prepared at all. Jeno stood up from the bench and quietly practiced his speech as he saw the bus drove closer. Jeno scribbled quickly on his notepad before shoving it back into his backpack and heading towards the parked bus.

“Your smile, your gestures, even the way you call my name. It all feels right.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Just as Jeno stepped out of the bus shelter, he felt a wave of panic hit him. There was no turning back now, the bus would only bring him closer to the girl. Jeno dug in his pocket and pulled out his bus pass, showing it to the bus driver with a smile before he moved to the back of the bus where it was fairly empty.

Jeno carefully leaned his head on the cold window as he watched the houses zoom past in a blur. He was getting closer and closer to his destination, and the thought of it made his stomach churn. This was his one chance to say everything he felt. To let love colour his heart.

“I like you. No, wait- I love you. I think. It might be love. I’m not sure. Wait. No, it is love. It has to be. Okay let’s try again.” Jeno began to whisper to himself while mindlessly staring out the window. “Uhm, I’m in love with you - No that’s too forward isn’t it?” Jeno sighed to himself. “I like you as more than a friend, as in I like like you, like I like like you, like a lot-”

“Are you alright? You’ve been muttering to yourself since you got on the bus” Jeno looked up and saw an elderly man watching him from the seat on the other side of the aisle with a curious smirk. Jeno’s cheeks blossomed a faint red as he found himself blushing once more; this time for a different reason.

“Oh I was just practicing” Jeno spoke, flustered to have been caught talking to himself.

“Practicing what? You seem a little nervous there” The man raised his eyebrows as he chuckled

“Oh,” Jeno sighed before he continued, “I’m gonna confess my feelings to my friend. I like her a lot and I really want to make this special for her.”

“Oh, she’s a special girl, huh?”

“Yeah. I don’t wanna mess anything up, and I don’t know what I’ll do if she rejects me.” Jeno averted his gaze as he spoke the last few words, the thought of it being too humiliating to even imagine.

“From what I understand. You seem like a kind young man with a big heart. You’re talking to yourself in public like a crazy person all for this one girl. If you’re putting in all this effort, that means that you know she feels the same way, otherwise, you wouldn’t bother. You’ve got this, and you’d both be lucky to have each other.”

“Thank you.” Jeno smiled shyly at the man’s kind words.

“Why don’t you give me a line you’re planning to say to her” The man said as he slightly turned to face Jeno

“Right now?” Jeno questioned as he took a peak around the fairly empty bus

“Of course. Who knows when I’ll ever see you again” The old man chuckled reassuringly

“Okay,” Jeno sighed before he continued

“I secretly think about you all day. I wanna walk with you on our love line with our hands held. Tell me you feel the same way.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The pair had left her house and had been wandering around the park for a while. The park was a place that sparked joy, even on the darkest days. As they walked down the path, Jeno couldn’t help but stare at the girl once again. The cool wind had left some of her hair wisped, and the moon had illuminated her features in the darkness, each moon beam gently reflecting against her skin. They’d been outside long enough for the clouds to turn into stars and the sun beams to turn into moon rays. The park was nearly empty. Under the midnight sky, it had only been the two of them in Jeno’s world. With their arms linked together they walked throughout the park.

“You’re staring” She spoke as they continued to walk

“I know” Jeno replied with sudden confidence

“Why?” She asked followed by a sniffle as they stopped in front of the pond they often spent their time at

“You look nice” Jeno smiled gently at the girl. The girl turned her head to look up at him and Jeno almost saw a twinkle in her eye

“Thanks” She smiled as she turned her head back towards the path, squeezing his arm slightly, while gently laying her head on his shoulder for a moment.

“You always look nice” Jeno spoke quietly. Despite how cold it was, Jeno felt his face heating up. He looked down at her and he was met with a slight silence.

“Are you alright, Jeno? You’ve kinda been in your own world for a while” The girl spoke after a while

“Yeah.” Jeno let out a breathy laugh as he took his hands out of his pocket “Just a lot on my mind” He gestured

“Like?” The girl raised her eyebrows as she urged him to continue

“Just-” Jeno sighed as he tried to form the words properly, “Stuff” Jeno furrowed his brows and let out a sigh at his own words. Stuff? He had spent days thinking of the right things to say to her, and now all of that effort had disappeared.

“Stuff? Jeno, you can tell me things, you know?” She replied with a reassuring smile

“I know I can. This is just complicated” Jeno sighed once again as he struggled to explain. His heart started beating faster once again. It was almost time for Jeno to tell her the truth. He’d been preparing for this moment for days, only now, he didn’t feel prepared at all.

“I like complicated things.” She smiled before she continued “Tell me.” As she placed her hand on his arm reassuringly, Jeno felt his breath hitch.

“I’ve been trying to tell you for a while, but it’s just a lot and I get nervous and I always forget” Jeno replied as he began to become frustrated with himself. He fiddled with his fingers and furrowed his brows as he tried to recall the words that had been plaguing his mind for days.

“Jeno, it’s fine. Look, it’s just you and me here now. If you embarrass yourself or anything, no one will ever know. I trust you, you trust me. It’s just you and I. No one else.” She replied as she gently placed her glove covered hands on his cheeks flushed with pink due to the cold. She was right. There was no one there but the two of them.

Jeno placed his hands over hers, still placed gently on his cheeks. He held them for a moment before moving both of their hands away from his face, but never letting go of hers. He squeezed her hands as he took a deep breath in. As he gazed into her eyes, Jeno began the speech he had been waiting so long to reveal to her.

“Under the same sky, looking at the same place, when I’m with you I can do anything. I try to act cool, but I can’t hide my heart. I think I’m in love with you. Your smile, your gestures, even the way you call my name. It all feels right. I secretly think about you all day.” Love was dangerous. It coloured hearts however it felt. Jeno had poured his heart out into the midnight air, hoping that his words would fill the heart of the one his words were directed to.

“I wanna walk with you on our love line with our hands held.”

As Jeno neared the end of his speech, he felt his heart blossom once more with the colour of love. A colour that once scared him was now a colour that he fully embraced. He stood in front of the girl in his full vulnerability, baring all of his feelings, his heart beating for her only. Jeno smiled as he spoke the last words.

“Tell me you feel the same way.” Jeno whispered shakily.

Love cannot be hidden. You can’t hide the lingering gazes, the unsteady breaths, the fluttering of the heart, or the longing touches. Cupid's arrow was on full display.

“Look in my eyes and tell me, so love can colour us.” Jeno whispered as he looked into the eyes of his beloved. Jeno felt at home; He felt safe and warm. She was his home. Standing in front of the girl, Jeno was filled with nothing but hope as he whispered one final testament of his heart-struck emotions into the midnight air, loud enough for the girl to hear.

Words were not exchanged as the girl leaned into Jeno. Their lips pressed together in a soft proclamation of their newfound feelings. The blooming, rose-colored red of romance had coloured their hearts. She slowly leaned back as the wind howled past their flushed faces.

“Wait, don’t pull away yet” Jeno whispered as their noses brushed against each other. Breathing lightly as his eyes flickered from her lips to her eyes he spoke once more, “I just want to look at you.”

Under the midnight sky, they would walk on their love line. With their hands held.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: the ending lowkey made me wanna cry :(

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